A book a day: Aki Shimazaki: Suzuran

Idioma original: French

Original title: Suzuran

Translation: Robert Joan-Cantavella

Year of publication: 2019

Valuation: Alright

“Los Temerarios” is a Mexican band that plays grupera music and romantic ballads, the kind that drunks start drinking to when the party is already over. They are one of the most famous musical groups in Mexico… for 30 years. In Mexico, no one listens to them anymore, but their agenda is full of concerts in the United States. Why? The answer is simple for those who know the immigration situation in Mexico: those Mexicans who crossed the border illegally and cannot return to their country, continue living in the Mexico they left behind.

Aki Shimazaki was born in Japan, but has lived in Canada for over 40 years. I am surprised that most of his novels are written in French, his second language (as it is difficult to write in one’s own language). Unlike Ishiguro, who some consider too “Westernized”, Shimazaki’s novels are about Japan. You only have to look at the titles to realize that Shimazaki misses his homeland. But, like those Mexicans who listen to “Los Temerarios” with nostalgia, Shimazaki lives in a Japan that no longer exists.

Suzuran is the story of two sisters. The eldest is ambitious, hedonistic, calculating. The youngest, the protagonist of the story, is sensitive, empathetic, very close to her family. The latter, Anzu, leads an indolent life, far from passions. She dedicates her life to raising her son, and to her vocation since childhood, pottery. It seems that the process of molding and firing clay allows her to give shape to her ideas, her feelings, her frustrations. Each piece has a name. Her favorite vase, Suzuran, will be a kind of fetish, which will serve as an anchor for Anzu to avoid being dragged down by the overwhelming past with her sister.

Despite having spent decades outside of Japan, Shimazaki retains a deep connection to his homeland, evident in his sensitivity to the subtleties of human behavior. Through his characters and his metaphor-filled narrative, Shimazaki presents us with themes of identity, family, and the passage of time. This ability to keep his cultural heritage alive, while expressing it in an adopted language, is testament to his literary mastery. However, to return to my introduction, this country Shimazaki refers to is a world artificially altered and beautified by its nostalgia. The way of life and traditions of this world seem like something out of a dream, with the characters seemingly driven by external forces, let’s call it fate if you will, although at times they seem adrift. I have to accept, however, that the mixture of this idealized nostalgia and harsh reality is what makes his works, if not authentic, so moving.

Rant: Why do publishers insist on pushing Japanese novels down our throats as if they were exotic, avoiding translating certain words? ofuro It’s a bathtub, the start It is the oven where the ceramics are fired, yakimono It is nothing more than ceramics, and the list goes on. In my opinion, it only makes the text lose focus and ends up being another “Japanese novel”.