＜論文＞

Poetic Justice in Aki Shimazaki’s 3rd Pentalogy− L’ombre du chardon −Steven Urquhart

Introduction
In 2018, with the publication of Maïmaï, Governor General award-winning
Quebec-Japanese author Aki Shimazaki completed her third pentalogy of Frenchlanguage novels entitled, L’ombre du chardon.(1) Having previously published Le
poids des secrets (1999-2004) and Au cœur du Yamato (2006-2013), Shimazaki’s

novels, known for being“minimalist, simple and direct”(Amyot, 46), have givenrise to considerable academic scrutiny over the years
including the publication of an edited volume entitled Le Poids des identités:mémoire et traumatisme chez Aki Shimazaki (2010).(2) Inspired by several authors,notably Hungarian author Agota Kristof, as well as Japanese writer Osamu Dazai,
associated with the Watakushi shōsetsu or“I”novel, her works have been read interms of their memorial nature, Japan’s past and present, the pressure of social conventions, personal and collective identity, sexuality, the role of mothers and fathers,
secrets, taboos, and betrayal.
Indeed, in Lucie Lequin’s various articles which primarily examine Shimazaki’s
first pentalogy focusing on Korean-Japanese War time relations, she highlights theimportance of consensual lies and the“public-private knot”(2003, 42) at the centreof the novels whose universality (2005) resides in the battle against conformity.
Having described her own works as dealing with“ individual human tragedy ”(Amyot, 47), Shimazaki plays on Japanese contexts in a personal way, using
different narrators in each novel, and explores“unspoken”individual and family
secrets. While“polyphonic”(37), her stories according to Sonia Musella recall thedelicate work of a“sculptor exposing his subject from a block of marble”(42). Fullof word games and subtle symbolism, Shimazaki’s works leave nothing to chance,
as Joëlle Cauville shows by exposing in the first pentalogy maternal archetypes
and their relation to Mother Nature, embodied in each of the novels’ titles bearing
the name of flowers. Sober in style, Shimazaki’s use of the French language gives– 33 –

her critical freedom according to Peter Schulman for whom her works are haunted
by“a quest for the missing father”(22) within a maternal context. Insisting on the
mirroring“layers”of her works, Schulman sees Shimazaki’s works in terms of a“mise en abyme”(15), as does Gabrielle Parker (306) in her 2013 comparative studyof Ying Chen and Shimazaki’s“critical detachment vis-à-vis the presented subject”(311). Examining Shimazaki in terms of the Japanese monogatari tradition, Parker
describes the social critique in both authors’ works in terms of Roland Barthes’“poéthique”(323). Having primarily focused on ethical, historical, and identity

issues in Shimazaki’s first pentalogy, literary critics have not yet extensively studied
her second series of novels, which delve into the trials and tribulations of Japanese
corporate business men, or her latest stories, entitled: Azami (2014), Hôzuki (2015),
Suisen (2016), Fuki-No-Tô (2017), and Maïmaï. Subject at present to only newspaper

and magazine reviews, these two pentalogies constitute a literary treasure chest
waiting to be explored in terms of previously investigated topics, and new aspects,
such as the one I propose to study here in Shimazaki’s third literary cycle: poetic
justice.
Defined in terms of an“outcome in which vice is punished and virtue rewarded
in a manner peculiarly or ironically appropriate”(Merriam Webster), poetic justice– an expression coined by Thomas Rymer(3) – manifests itself in Shimazaki’s third
pentalogy via the ironic reestablishment of a certain harmony or wa at the endof each story making up this series which explores, in the context of redemption,
topics such as physical needs, deception, narcissism, sexual orientation, and starcrossed lovers. In other words, readers are witness in each of the novels composing
L’ombre du chardon to a“fitting”(Baldick, 197) or ethically just resolution of thepsychological and real conflict at the center of the novels’ plots, which play on
missed opportunities, happenstance, and twists of fate. At the conclusion of eachnovel, which can be read separately, readers have the impression that there is acertain“balance of nature,”a“compensatory equilibrium”(Dimock, 166) or“karma”
at work that ultimately rights wrongs in a commensurate fashion. In other words,“earthly rewards and punishments”are distributed“in proportion to the virtue orvice of the various characters”(Abrams & Harpham, 299-300).
Operating outside the legal context, poetic justice functions on ethical and moral premises and searches for something“better than the truth”(Kertzer 11) or the
finality sought out by the judicial system. Similar in this way to the Buddhist concept of inga ōhō (105),(4) according to Daniel Crump Buchanan, poetic justice in Shi-

– 34 –

mazaki’s works is retributive to a certain degree, but is ultimately restorative in nature and functions in ways that recall the reparative Japanese art of kintsugi. While
this term refers to the repairing of broken pottery with gold, it is also a metaphor
for“the ability to discover deep values and qualities in flaw, without hiding them,but on the contrary highlighting them”(Lorenzetti, 41).(5) This is precisely what one
finds in Shimazaki’s latest pentalogy, a healing via the exposition and subsequent
acceptance of underlying problems. In the novels, damaged and flawed characterswho“crack”as well as“broken”relationships are eventually mended or repaired toa large extent. The characters’ lots in life are made better in the denouement of thenovels through a form of reconciliation with the past and mistakes made during thistime. This mending and making amends by characters echoes the fragmented but
interwoven form of the separate stories composing each pentalogy, which ultimately“fit together”to form a restored whole. Associated with the aesthetics of wabi sabior the acceptance of transience and imperfection, kintsugi characterizes the reparative mechanism or poetic justice at play in Shimazaki’s novels. Each novel stresses
an appreciation of the“unconventional”and“cosmic order”(Koren, 57)(6) in a resolutely poetic way, emphasizing natural processes and the importance of confronting
life’s aleatory nature in order to move forward and prosper.
Characterized by“ simplicity, simplicity, ”(Tremblay, D1) and described interms of a“haiku”(Amyot, 46) in prose, Shimazaki’s works have however not yet
been analyzed in terms of the aforementioned corollary concepts and ideas. As
such, we propose to examine the novels composing her latest pentalogy in terms of
poetic justice, a notion implicitly already present in Japanese culture and one thatmanifests itself“literally”in her stories via letters, notebooks, poems, popular tales,
and references to literature. Part and parcel of the redressing of initial wrongs andthe making of things as they should be, these literary symbols render the restorative
justice at work in the novels“poetic.”They contribute to the deconstruction of
objective or perceived rules and laws in Shimazaki’s work and insist upon subjective
ways of being that are in harmony with one’s own nature and“natural”truths that
we can paradoxically all understand due to the imperfections and differences weshare.

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1.

Azami and the sexless couple: physical needs and wants
Published in 2014, Azami, whose English equivalent is“wild thistle,”tells

the story of a“thorny”(7) situation, one of betrayal and reconciliation involving
Mitsuo Kawano, a 36-year-old editor-in-chief of N magazine (10) from Nagoya andhis wife, Atsuko. Involved in a“sexless”(18) marriage, Mitsuo ends up cheating on
his spouse with Mitsuko Tsuji, his childhood first-love (52). The result of a chanceencounter with Gorô Kida, a former elementary school classmate and president of
the liquor importer, Sakaya Kida (11), the relationship develops after Mitsuo visits
Bar X, where Mitsuko works as a hostess on Friday evenings.
In the novel, each character’s existence is determined and associated with aform of injustice and the reparation of a certain self-betrayal. Mitsuo, for example,
has physical urges and, as a city-dweller, is not in his element in the countrysidethat his wife enjoys and frequents on weekends after inheriting her father’s farm.
Having contributed to the couple’s lack of intimacy due to work commitments (19),
he is reticent to fully explain his desires and sentiments to his wife and confront
the situation (20); Mitsuko is in reality a well-read intellectual and single-mom wholives with her own mother and longs to own a used bookstore (119) and sell works ofphilosophy. She only works as a hostess in Bar X on Friday evenings to earn money
to send her deaf and mute four-year-old (76) son, Tarô, to a special school. As forGorô, he embodies injustice, despite having been nicknamed“the gentle one”(27)as a youth. Having lost his mother as a child (118), he compensates for feelings ofabandonment by means of philandering exploits and abuses the prestige associatedwith his position as shachô (President) of the company he simply inherited from hisfather.
In the case of each character, the story dwells on their respective natural
lot and the ironic nature of their respective realities via multiple references toaspirations noted in a grade school year book. Having aspired to be a“cameraman,”(36, 72) Mitsuo has surpassed his disengaged dream, but is disappointed with his
marital reality and dreams about Mitsuko when thinking back to his youth. In his
mind, she is someone like him(8) and represents a missed opportunity or destiny
and the fulfilment of desire. While neither Mitsuko’s aspirations nor his photo (35)is present in the year book, Mitsuo recalls on two occasions that she wanted to
become a“veterinarian”or“zoologist”(24, 36) and reflects on the gap between her
current job that“has nothing to do with her dreams.”(9) This is also the case for– 36 –

Gorô, who dreamt of becoming a kyôju (36, 44) or a tenured university professor. Far
from this noble, socially conscious, intellectual aspiration, he pursued the personal
profiteering path of least resistance in order to obtain monetary success andauthority.
The source of considerable reflection by Mitsuo in the story that plays on
nostalgia and the notion of chance, this grade school yearbook together with his
literary profession highlight the poetic dimension of justice and injustice in thenovel, the title of which is an ironic symbol. Referring to the prickly situation at theheart of the story, Azami is Mitsuko’s nickname in Bar X, and the one that Mitsuo
secretly used for her in grade school (83). The name of a“lullaby”(8) that Mitsuo’s
grandmother sang and that he repeats while thinking of Mitsuko, azami is also andparadoxically similar to the burdock plant (la bardane) that his wife, Atsuko has
decided to grow in her garden (41). A coveted object in the lullaby associated with“dreams,”azami is described as the“flower that sings the night to sleep.”(10) Likea poem of sorts, this lullaby alludes to the soothing of darkness or the importanceof sexual relations to sleeping well and ultimately righting what is wrong or“quinuit”(which harms). The rocking movement evoked in the lullaby emphasizes theimportance of balance, of give and take, and alludes to the idea that Mitsuko’s
affair with Mitsuo, like Derrida’s pharmakon, is at once a poison and a remedy.(11)Both a wild flower and sort of weed, azami which Mitsuo’s daughter associates with“independence,”“rejection”and“vengeance”(100), summarizes the artfully crafted

ethical dilemma in the novel, which plays on the subjective nature of justice or what
is right and wrong.(12)Representative of the word games or hanakotoba, the Japanese language offlowers that Shimazaki uses in her previous works, the term azami is symbolic of
the not only deconstructive, but also reconstructive aesthetic at play in the novel.
Indeed, Mitsuo’s affair is not purely destructive or a gratuitous rebellious gestureagainst his wife, but rather a self-healing, cathartic one and an act that while
initially fragmenting his rapport with Atsuko will ultimately bring them together
in terms of understanding each other. In this way, azami recalls the Japanese
art of ikebana,“the art of arranging cut flowers”(15), associated with kintsugi
by Lorenzetti, who describes the practice in restorative terms. Arranged in atriangular scheme,“[h]armony and balance”are created among the three elements,
which represent the sky, the earth, and mankind. Considered“an appropriate art
for meditation and the research of the inner Self,”(15), ikebana described in this– 37 –

way recalls the rupture and the transformation in the novel of what is dead or cut
into an object of beauty. Placing mankind in the middle like the ikebana artist,
Shimazaki searches in this novel and the others to establish harmony between
characters’ aspirations and the reality of life, bound by social conventions, notably
divorce.
In Azami, where Mitsuo reflects on the shame associated with divorce, justice isironically restored when he becomes involved with Mitsuko, a situation that comes
about when he fortuitously prevents Mitsuko’s money-filled handbag from being
robbed upon exiting a bar after a late-night outing with his colleagues (62). Acting
like a knight in shining armor in this serendipitous scene, as he had done years
before when he defended Mitsuko against Gorô’s unkind words toward her (89),he is subsequently rewarded by becoming her lover. While the affair contravenes
the rules of marriage and social practices, it is rooted in circumstances, bothongoing and unexpected, and appears“just”in this way. Mitsuo is not trying totake revenge on his wife, but simply filling an emptiness in his life and making
up for a previously missed romance that should have occurred in the past. This isalso the case for Mitsuko, who truly liked Mitsuo as a 12-year-old, an idea that isconveyed when she first meets him as an adult and says:“Editor-in-chief, that suitsyou. Better than a cameraman.”(13) Having remembered the yearbook inscription,
Mitsuko had inscribed Mitsuo in her memory and seemingly her heart, as well.
The“poetically just”nature of the relationship is established when Mitsuko gives
Mitsuo a“fountain pen”(stylo-plume, 82) for saving her from losing her moneyfilled bag and when he later gives her his grade school diary (83). The exchanges,
which take place in Mitsuko’s“office,”covered wall-to-wall in“books”(93) where
they make love, are symbolic of a restorative justice and their mutual appreciation
or love.
While bringing up the question of“love and criminality”(94) following a lovemaking session, Mitsuko also raises the question of justice in the legal senseof the term when she tells Mitsuo her mother was imprisoned (89) in the past
for committing a minor“crime of passion,”or accidently wounding her lover ’s
mistress(14). Ironic, this background story, which plays on both the just and unjust
nature of Mitsuo and Mitsuko ’ s relationship, highlights the imperfect natureof both characters’ childhoods in Nagoya and the idea that right and wrong are
relative terms, subject to law, but also and more importantly human understandingor subjective reasoning. While legally criminal, Mitsuo and Mitsuko’s adulterous– 38 –

relationship is rooted in true“love”(93). There is history and chemistry between
them; they are honest with each other regarding their respective lives and mutuallyrespectful, which makes their relationship genuine and thus justifiable.
This being said, both characters realize that the relationship is temporary andthe result of serendipitous circumstances, which a well-known Japanese proverb
about“azami”reveals: Azami no hana mo hito-sakari or“thistle blossoms last but amoment”(Buchanan 4). Having come together in a way thanks to Gorô, an unjustman, the couple is also undone by this vengeful person who seemingly informs
Atsuko of her husband’s affair (115). An injustice of sorts, this breaking of Mitsuo
and Mitsuko’s secret is dealt with by Shimazaki via poetic justice. This is clear
when Mitsuo, after recognizing his wife’s“letter”(109) regarding an unfaithfulhusband in the proofs of the advice column of his own magazine, breaks off his
relationship with Mitsuko, confesses to Atsuko, and subsequently moves with hiswife to the countryside where he founds his own cultural magazine. Influenced
by public shaming regarding divorce, his own moral compass, and the advice
columnist’s response (110), Mitsuo’s concessive gesture at the end of the novel
swings the pendulum of justice back and officially rights his and Gorô’s“wrong.”
Like the lullaby that Mitsuo recalls on the last day in his office (163), he seesthat his holding on to Azami or Mitsuko has done harm and that he must makeup for betraying his wife and the mother of his children who he“still loves.”(15)
His decision to found his own journal while his wife pursues her goal of sellingorganic vegetables poetically reestablishes“harmony”or wa within the couple andmends what was essentially“broken”in his marriage. In effect, his gesture can becharacterized as“golden”in the sense that he helps his wife cultivate her“garden”
or world (as Voltaire in Candide would say) while allowing him to pursue his dreamof founding his own review. In other words, there is a meeting or joining of theirindividual differences and aspirations at the novel’s conclusion, which is both“just”
and“poetic.”
The novel’s ending which occurs in the symbolically-charged Fall and ultimately
foreshadows the eventual dissolution of the couple in Fuki-no-tô plays on the idea of“karma”in a poetic way. This is clear when Mitsuo discovers a copy of the N mag-azine with a wilted azami flower in its pages in Mitsuko’s abandoned apartment
which he visits after clearing out his own office. Symbolic of the end of his relationship with Mitsuko who suddenly moved out without telling him, the flower has beenpreserved in the review, the name of which can refer from a phonetic point of view

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to“fate or karma”in Japanese. Supposing that Mitsuko no doubt read Atsuko’s letter in the September edition of the magazine, Mitsuo understands via this discovery
that he must turn over a new leaf, as it were, like his former lover. Ending on the
opening of what can be considered a book of sorts, the conclusion of Azami refers tothe beginning of a new chapter in the lives of both characters, whose respective desires end up being satisfied in a fitting way.

2.

Hôzuki, Suisen, and Fuki-No-Tô: Selfishness, narcissism, homosexuality

and redemption
Present throughout Azami, poetic justice is also manifest in the other novelsof Shimazaki’s pentalogy, which we can see by briefly examining the second, third,
and fourth works. Narrated by Mitsuko, Hôzuki (2015) – a lampion flower andground cherry associated with the deity protecting women – relates her story asa secondhand bookstore owner, specializing in philosophical works, and how she
became a mother to Tarô, her now seven-year old deaf and mute son. Having had
an abortion in the past following an accidental pregnancy with Shôji, a postdoctoral
philosophy student (21), Mitsuko discovers Tarô, as an abandoned baby in a locker
at the train station in Maïbara and decides to keep him as her own. This incredible
story is revealed at the end of the novel when she is confronted by Madame (Kako)
Sato, (16) a client at the bookstore and Tarô ’ s birthmother, who after becoming
pregnant following a one-night stand with a former Spanish teacher (122-126)
panics upon giving birth and leaves the baby in the locker. While Mitsuko neveradmits to taking the baby, Kako Sato who tries to befriend Mitsuko realizes that
Tarô is indeed her son and that her“crime”(128) has been righted thanks to
Mitsuko’s“illegal”(79) action. The result of social taboos, this strictly unlawful
situation deconstructs the moralizing statement whereby two wrongs do not make aright and shows the natural justice at work in Shimazaki’s second novel.
By saving and caring for Tarô, Mitsuko redeems herself in terms of her past,giving life after taking it, and thus making amends to a certain extent for what
her previous lover called a“grave”(21) act. This is clear when she says to herself:“‘We came across each other in this way, you who were abandoned, and me who

had an abortion.’”(17) This can also be said of Kako Sato who restores life to what
was essentially dead by accepting that Tarô is now Mitsuko’s unofficially adopted– 40 –

son. She moves on with her life as a diplomat’s wife, her initial goal before becoming
accidently pregnant, and assumes her role as the mother to her legitimate daughter, Hanako, whose name ironically means“flower child”(67). The poetic nature ofjustice at work in the novel manifests itself when both women reflect on their acts
during their last discussion in Mitsuko’s used bookstore, a wabi-sabi-like space
where imperfection and the exchange of“used goods”are considered precious. Relating the conversation to a comic book called Le gros chat et le petit serpent (The Fat
Cat and the Little Snake), Mitsuko plays on the tentative nature of the meeting andthe idea that she could be swallowed, as in the story, by Kako Sato who graduallyputs together the broken pieces of her life. Indeed, in the novel, Târo whose nameis associated with Urashima Tarô (87) and Momotarô (126) or“Peach Boy,”is a sortof golden boy, a“kintaro”or superhuman hero of sorts.(18) Associated with Japanesefolktale heroes, he is a treasure, a glorious find to both women and the“light”in
their darkness. He is like the full moon that is associated with seijin(19) or the 15th ofJanuary, the day he was abandoned by Kako Sato and discovered by Mitsuko.
Set against the background of philosophical and practical questions concerning
Christianity and Buddhism that Tarô asks Mitsuko (94), whose mother is deeply
Catholic, the story insists on self-redemption, about being saved by saving andor giving to others. Selfishness becomes selflessness in Hôzuki, which champions
imperfection via Tarô’s handicap, his hybrid identity as a“métis,”the ambiguityof the name of Mitsuko’s boutique – kitô, written in“hiragana”(16) and meaning,hôzuki , prayer, and then“ lie ”(96-97). Indeed, white lies (like the light of ahôzuki , associated with ikebana , 96) permeate the story that embodies a non-religious confession of sorts, this act of contrition and pardoning of past mistakes.
(20)

The novel insists on the idea that the hazards of life are to be interpreted in aphilosophically mixed fashion, that is to say, in a relativistic and non-absolute way,a notion communicated via Mitsuko’s interests and her cat’s name, Socrates. The
conclusion of the novel communicates that redemptive unspoken (like Tarô) gestures
outweigh judgements based in law, religion, or doctrine and that within words (motsin French), we can understand and empathize with suffering (maux), a human trait
that everyone experiences despite their differences.
This is clear when considering the“sage-femme”(79) or midwife, who helped
Mitsuko register Tarô’s birth in the koseki (80) or the Japanese family registration,
and who seems to be the same person having helped Kako Sato give birth.
Dwelling in an area formerly associated with prostitutes, who ate hôzuki to abort– 41 –

pregnancies, (81), this nurturing, Mary Magdalene-like figure embodies a sage
femme or“wise woman,”first identifying Târo’s handicap, and then recognizing thatwhile Mitsuko’s act is undeniably criminal, she will ultimately offer the boy a better
life than he would have as a disabled, métis orphan in a fairly intolerant society (82).
Having understood the constructive nature of Mitsuko’s desire to bear this burden,
she tells her to come back in“three days”(83) and effectively allows Mitsuko andthe baby to be reborn or resurrected. Like the maternal archetype that Joëlle
Cauville examines, the midwife in Hôzuki subverts legal authority and embodies
a form of poetic justice, which according to Ralph Grunewald“is not bound byprocedural rules and as a concept works within an individual text, within a specifictime but not as a system”(55). Indeed, the poetic nature of her gesture, which
recognizes that motherhood is not just a biological function, becomes apparent in
the lullaby that she invents as she rocks Tarô in her arms. Referring to hozuki as a“love in a cage”and a“light,”(21) she indirectly describes the baby boy within thelocker and insists on the bright and living side of what is a rather dark and“horrible”
situation.
Based, like Azami, in restorative justice, Hôzuki relativizes right and wrong
and ultimately highlights the redemptive powers of love and goodness in the face ofadversity and past mistakes. Insisting on the need to redeem oneself, these stories
tie into Suisen (2016), which is characterized by retributive or punitive justice andthe subversion of the“law of the father”or superficial and teleological ways of
being. Referring to a daffodil and Narcissus, Shimazaki’s third novel signals the“yellow”or cowardly and hypocritical disposition of the narrator and protagonist,

Gorô, whose arrogant and egotistical behavior, as both a father, husband, and loverends up being punished. Dumped by both his mistresses, a movie star Yuri K (eureka)
and a former employee’s widowed wife,“O,”Gorô end up being dispossessed of his
title as the president of Sakaya Kida by his step-mother and finally abandoned
by his loyal wife and children. His injustices are thus duly and commensurately
punished.
The novel plays on the idea already present in Azami that Gorô, at 51 yearsof age, is a narcissistic“play-boy”(134) and opportunist, who abuses his inherited
power and wealth. In the opening scene, he describes himself looking into a mirror,
admiring a yellow striped tie given to him by Yuri K, and then, recalls being called
a“wounded child,”(22) by a Sayoko M, a jilted former girlfriend (125), who also
gave him a tie with suisen on it during their time together.(23) Due to the loss of his– 42 –

mother to cancer when he was 3 years old (13), Gorô sees people as dispensable, like“pieces of clothing,”(24) a means to an end, and objects that he uses and discards

when better opportunities, associated with prestige and money, present themselves.
Characterized by an inferiority complex and jealousy, Gorô repressed artist talents
in his youth as a“pianist”(138) to pursue power and wants his children to follow in
his footsteps. For example, he wants his son, Jun, who wishes to study psychology,
to become the next president of Sakaya Kida. As for his daughter Yôko, a thirdyear University student in music, he tries to choose her boyfriend. In terms of his
wife, he believes that she should be grateful to have such a husband (17), and thus,
tolerate his infidelity. Having undeservingly obtained his power and prestige, Gorôgets what he deserves or his comeuppance when everything is taken away fromhim.
With an intertextual reference to Narcissus as its background, as well as Yuri
K’s film, Ne me quitte jamais, maman ! (Don’t ever leave me, mom!), a“story abouta child having lost his mother”which evokes Gorô’s own childhood, the novel playson the repression of natural interests and the ultimately destructive nature ofself-imposed, power-hungry behaviors. The concept of“poetic”justice appears in
the novel via references to the film, music, the arts and important letters. Gorô’s
mistress,“O”abandons him via a“letter”(107-109), as does his wife (113), who also
leaves him with“divorce papers”(115) to sign. In this way, Gorô, just as artfully as
he has seduced and tricked everyone else like an actor, is himself suddenly duped.
This being said, the conclusion of the novel is not vengeful or dark, as Gorôultimately confronts what he has repressed, his lack of“self-love,”(25) his failings,
and seemingly changes for the better. Deciding to go for a drive to Kanazawa (marshof gold) after being abandoned by his family, Gôro embarks on a memorial journey,“back to the mother”in the Freudian sense of the term, which fulfils him. We see

this when he goes to see Don’t ever leave me, mom!, a movie he initially refused towatch and whose soundtrack recalls yet another lullaby involving a field of suisen.
(26)

In this scene, the“silver screen”represents a sort of poetic or ironic“mirror”for

Gorô, who comes face to face with what is at the origin of his troubles and the costof repressing psychological wounds. This is clear when he associates the film withthe loss he experienced due to his mother’s death:“I see the boy’s face as if it were
my own, and that of the woman, as if she were my real mother.”(27)Gorô’s redemption is also further accomplished by saving an injured black cat
he discovers following his return home near the garbage storage room of his house.

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The cat, which Gorô eventually adopts and calls“Suisen”(153), is at once a symbolof bad luck in the West and good luck in Japan and symbolizes how he assumes
the dark part of his personality and his“bêtises,”a French word referring to animal-like idiocies. By caring about the cat, Gorô shows selflessness for the first timein the novel. Reflecting also in the final part on his previous mistreatment of Sayoko
who gave him a tie with suisen on it, an object he associates with another striped
yellow tie given to him by Yuri K, Gorô shows regret and becomes conscious that
his selfish ambitions are at the heart of his undoing. Coming back home and to theorigins of his problems, he visits a supermarket (157) where Sayoko worked in thepast as a student and discovers that she has become a well-renowned psychologist.
According to an employee, she is a specialist of“adult behavioural problems”andthe author of“books”(158), notably one called: L’enfant blessé et l’adulte raté (The
Wounded Child and Failed Adult, 159). Deeply ironic, and metadiscursive, this title,

which highlights the importance of literature, obviously refers to Gorô’s situationand signals the poetic nature of his change of heart.
Seated in his car in the last line of the novel with the idea in mind that he will
retrieve Sayoko’s tie with the suisen on it from his step-mother, Gorô is literally on
the road to redemption and ready to move forward in terms of reconciling himself
with his past. The ties, both Sayoko’s and Yuri K’s, are a golden symbol in thenovel that like kintsugi literally“tie”or bind together all the separate elements ofthe story while fully exposing Gorô’s narcissistic flaw. They expose Gorô’s hubris,while constituting a mending element, one that helps fix to a certain extent what isbroken in his life by reconnecting him with his past and true self.
Having as a message the Greek aphorism,“know thy self,”expounded upon by
Socrates, for whom the“unexamined life is not worth living,”Suisen leads perfectly
into Fuki-No-Tô, published in 2017. Referring to the giant butterbur plant, whose
flowers are both female and male(28) (12) and whose“toxic”(13) stems remain
underground, the title alludes to the nature of the story in which we see the returnof the repressed. Harking back to Azami, the novel tells Atsuko’s story in which she
literally“unearths”her buried or repressed homosexuality, after fortuitously hiring
a former lesbian high school sweetheart to help her grow her organic vegetablecompany. At her parents’ farm“Tomo”(meaning companion in Japanese) that she
inherited, Atsuko is confronted by her true“nature,”in the form of Fukiko Yada
who has also had a family and been a mother. Having always dreamed of having a“farm”(36), Fukiko, whose name recalls the giant butterbur plant, discovers what

– 44 –

she has been seeking out for years in Atsuko, who paradoxically finds herself in asituation similar to her husband’s in the past. Confronted with a former lover, wholooks ironically like Mitsuko, Atsuko’s decision to pursue the relationship is just,despite lesbian relations being strictly taboo in Japanese society.(29) Far from being
vengeful, the relationship is rooted in natural dispositions and rights the inherent
wrong that is the repression of Atsuko’s true sexuality. The relationship between
the women allows both people to cultivate their garden as in Azami and get in touchwith their true or“biological”nature, a synonym for“organic”in French.
The poetic nature of the unexpected turn of events at the heart of the novel issymbolized by the fact that the two used to exchange a cahier or“notebook”(33),
embroidered with the image of a fuki-no-tô on it (79), in which they would eachrecord“thoughts about life, philosophy, comments on a film or book. And especially
feelings for one another.”(30) Similar to the grade school diary that Mitsuo kept in
Azami, the book symbolizes the bond between the two women who fully reconnect

during a trip to Sado Island together, an excursion that Atsuko was initially totake with her husband. Filling in for Mitsuo who is receiving a prize for his article
writing on the exact weekend of the planned trip, Fukiko shares the notebook with
Atsuko, who subsequently exposes several letters (79-89) to the reader. Beginninglike a memorial journey, the trip reunites the two women in a kintsugi-like fashion,
which we see when considering the significance of the destination. Associatedinitially due to its remoteness with banishment,(31) a notion which recalls thetaboo regarding women being lesbian in Japanese society, the island is also known
for its“gold mine.”Indeed, the island, whose name recalls the term used for theJapanese tea ceremony“sado, chado and chanoyu”(Koren, 31) at origin of wabisabi, represents a golden opportunity for the two women to literally treasure eachother. Isolated and alone, they make love together (111-112) and ultimately takeadvantage of a previously impossible and missed opportunity to be a couple.
At the novel’s conclusion, the poetic justice already at play becomes fully visible when Atsuko gives Mitsuo a“letter”(139) explaining her decision to leave him
for Fukiko and the need to be true to herself:“The problem is me not having been
sure about myself.”(32) While upset, Mitsuo, who thanked his wife in his acceptancespeech, understands Atsuko, as she made efforts to make sense of his affair andneed to find personal satisfaction. He implicitly seems to comprehend that you ultimately“reap what you sow”(inga ōhō) as he confronts Atsuko when she returns to
the house from their vegetable field. This idea, which corresponds to the novel’s ag-– 45 –

ricultural context, is indirectly communicated by the last image in the novel – a fullmoon (143) – as the two members of the couple return home in order to feed theirchildren. Referring to a good autumn harvest, the full moon here designates at once
the hole or emptiness in Mitsuo’s life and the idea that his wife, Atsuko, is whole
now, a fulfilled person returning to her true nature. As the golden middle groundbetween the sun and darkness, the full moon represents at once communion andtransformation. It is a kintsugi-like symbol reflecting the light or hope at the“center”
of this novel, while referring to the cyclical or back and forth nature of life where,
ultimately,“what goes around comes around.”3.

Maïmaï: gains and losses, endings and beginnings
Narrated by Tarô, who has become an adult in Maïmaï, Shimazaki’s last novelof L’ombre du chardon explores the idea that life is cyclical and that losses can begains, beginnings, endings and vice versa. Revisiting a secondary and somewhat
enigmatic but key character who was four years old in Azami, Shimazaki ties up
what constituted loose ends in this novel and Hôzuki while further exploring thequestion of sexuality and importance of the unspoken. Bearing a title which refers
to the onomatopoeic, child-like term for“snail”or katatsumuri in Japanese, the novel alludes to the relationship between living creatures and nature through a complex story in which Tarô, who has become a painter, discovers that Mitsuko is not
his biological mother and that the woman he loves or Madame (Kako) Sato’s daughter, is in fact his half-sister.
Breaking with the plant motif, the title – Maïmaï – plays on the question of
doubles in the story and Tarô“seeing”what he had previously been“sheltered”
from, following the sudden and unexpected death of Mitsuko in the first pages ofthe story.(33) Unpredictable from the reader’s point of view, the disappearance of
Mitsuko, who had invented stories about the circumstances of Tarô’s birth andsupposed Spanish father, allows nature to take its course and the return of people
who were previously excluded from his life. While unsettling for Tarô, the events
that unfold in the novel are framed in a poetic context, one established when herecalls the poem his mother recited to him in a garden when he was seven, as theyobserved a snail on a leaf.

– 46 –

Maïmaï, maïmaï,Maïmaï, maïmaï

Où vas-tu si lourdement?

Where are you going so heavily?

Que portes-tu dans ta maison si grande?

What do you carry in your large house?

Un chagrin ou un fardeau, ou bien les deux?

Sorrow or a burden, or is it both?

Ah, tu ne peux qu’avancer, comme la vie!

Ah, all you can do is go forward, like life!

Bon courage, maïmaï! Adieu ! (11-12)

Best of luck, maïmaï! Until we meetagain!

While the exact sense of the poem is unclear, Mitsuko seemingly anticipates
her unexpected passing here and speaks indirectly to Tarô about the burdens of life
and the need to take them in stride. Philosophical in nature, the poem indirectly
relativizes what Tarô learns about his mother after moving in with his grandmotherand into his mother’s apartment above the bookshop, which he subsequently turns
into an art gallery.
Having encountered Hanako outside the gallery (31) after she discovered
Mitsuko’s death in a notice published in the Azami review, Tarô renews the bond
between them described in Hôzuki and falls in love with her at the same time
he discovers many secrets about his mother. His grandmother, who eventuallyconfesses having spent time in“prison”(74), bears no shame with respect to herdaughter ’s independent, free-thinking, and spirited behavior (34) and tells Tarô
about his mother’s past, as he goes through her personal belongings. She brings
up Mitsuko ’ s job as a“ hostess ”(39) when Tarô finds sexy, brightly coloured
dresses (38) belonging to her and explains that she had several lovers, including
Mitsuo Kawano (51). As in other stories, the reader is witness to the return of therepressed, especially when Tarô discovers his mother’s“passport”(37) and that
she had not been to Spain, where she was supposed to have met his father (FelipeSantos – a painter, supposedly killed in a car accident before going to Japan) andbecome pregnant around the time of his birth. Missing entry and exiting stamps (100,126), the blank in this“book”of passage raises questions and ultimately reflects
the relativizing effect of other books in Maïmaï, in which the colourful nature of thepast is exposed and ultimately embraced.
This is clear when Tarô discovers the book Urashima Târo (58) that Hanako,
who becomes his fiancé, gave him as a seven-year-old boy. A famous Japanese 8th
century tale describing the loss of childhood innocence and the cost of maturity,(35)the book is associated with the“theory of relativity”(60) by Mitsuko and ultimatelyreflects what happens throughout the novel, and especially at the end of Maïmaï.

– 47 –

Like the story’s young fisherman or“pêcheur”(59) in French, a homonym for“sinner,”who ages immediately after exploring a secret casket“Tamate-bako”(60)given to him by“the princess of the sea,”Tarô discovers via Hanako’s reappearancein his life that she is his half-sister and that Kako Sato is his biological mother.
While the exact meaning of the tale is not perfectly clear, the secret casket
which has given rise to the Japanese stock phrase akete kuyashiki tamatebako or“opened to his regret (mortification),”recalls Pandora’s box in Greek Mythology,

associated with chaos, but also hope. In Maïmaï, this is what the reader sees: Taro’s
life story is deconstructed and turned upside down and yet ends, however, on a
positive note related to the unforeseeable, but marvelous“spectacle”(172) that isnature. Having first discovered his mother’s passport and then that she had herovaries (136) removed following an abortion after querying(36) Mr. Taki, one of his
mother’s former clients and the doctor who issued her death certificate, Tarô isfinally confronted in the novel’s conclusion by what appears to be madness.
Indeed, this is what we see at the end of Maïmaï when Tarô is invited to
speak privately with“Kako”(169) in her room at the psychiatric hospital in Kyoto
where she is recovering from mental illness.(37) Having initially been brought onafter discovering that her daughter wanted to marry her biological son, Madame
Sato’s unraveled state paradoxically allows her to clear the air in a dignified way,
confess her criminal act (164), and explain the mysteries that Tarô indirectlydiscovered about Mitsuko following her passing. While deeply disturbing, Kako
Sato’s seemingly crazy confession puts a stop to a legal injustice, Hanako and Taro’splanned marriage, and establishes the truth, which is seemingly reassuring for
Tarô:“She is mentally ill, but I believe everything she told me.”(38)The poetic nature of this discovery, that Tarô associates with a“fairy tale”(139) his mother invented,(39) and others in the novel, is conveyed by references
to the communication abilities of Madame Sato and Hanako, who both speak
sign language. In Hanako’s case, Tarô says“I have never seen anyone use [signlanguage] in such an elegant way as you”(40) and insists on her natural ability
throughout the novel. In Kako Sato’s case, he describes her hand movements upon
meeting her as“gracious”(161) and learns that she secretly learned sign language
in“hope”of meeting him again“one day”(162). Insisting in both cases on thefinesse and subtlety of their language skills, Tarô, whose silence is the backgroundto the novel, highlights here and elsewhere the importance of communication toseeing and understanding others. Part and parcel of Freud’s talking cure, expression– 48 –

– be it through words, signs, or drawings – conveys not only explicit messages, butalso implicit or unspoken ones that, while potentially unsettling at first, contributeultimately to our personal and collective well-being.
In the novel’s conclusion, the unspoken is extremely important, communicatinga certain“hope”and optimism. Having told Hanako and Madame Sato’s parents
what could be called white lies when asked about his private conversation with hisbirthmother, Tarô mentions the“snail”brooch (151) Hanako has worn since meeting
her, mentions his mother’s painting that looks like his own (169), but protects these
individuals from the entire truth that will eventually come to light in the future.
This idea is clear as he exits the hospital with them, following a dinner, and notices
that“[t]he rain has stopped and the light of the sun peeking out between the whiteclouds.”(41) A metaphor for the three parties involved in this scene, two of which(Hanako and Madame Sato’s parents) remain oblivious to the truth, this moment ofpathetic fallacy is followed by another involving the appearance of a“rainbow”(172)that alludes to the complexity of the secret yet to be revealed by Tarô regarding his
identity and relationship to Hanako.
Described in terms of its five separate colours (red, orange, yellow, green, blue)that seem to correspond to the flowers of the novels’ titles, the rainbow recalls“hydrangea plants”for Hanako and represents a prism of light, exposing what

is invisible. A symbol of luck in western culture associated with a pot of gold, therainbow embodies hope here, but also the complexity of what lies ahead for thecharacters. Indeed, the rainbow echoes the ominous beginning of the story, asTarô also notices this natural phenomenon on the day Mitsuko dies:“These lively
colours remind me of hydrangea flowers […] Captivated by this spectacle of nature,
I momentarily forget the seriousness of the situation.”(42) Broken down into its
separate parts at the beginning and end of story, the rainbow’s colours, called iro inJapanese, conjure up the notion of“sexy,”one bending over the other, and thus thereality that haunts the end of Maïmaï, whose name evokes the idea of coupling.
Having slept with Hanako after she asks him to marry her, Tarô not only
takes his sister’s virginity (he“deflowers”her), but also alludes to the potentiallyproblematic situation their love-may provoke:“I can no longer hold back. She
clutches me. I ejaculate.”(43) While Hanako is said to have been in the“‘sure’”(94)part of her feminine cycle and the two lovers did not know they were related at thetime, the fact remains that doubt arises with respect to Hanako’s future state at
the novel’s very end and that the pair have committed in part an incestuous act.

– 49 –

A recurring subject in Japanese manga, incest raises the question of genealogicallines in Japan and elsewhere where cousins frequently married in the past and thecomplexity or colourful nature of human relations, concealed within the white ofsperm that Tarô’s evokes in his ominous description.
Polysemous and ironic in nature, the rainbow is a kintsugi-like bridge of sorts
between heaven and earth, the past and the present, which brings the reader fullcircle in the novel. It is a poetic symbol reminiscent of the colours of a painter’s
palette and one that alludes, as such, to the need to not lose“perspective”on thisparticular situation. Recalling furthermore the colour of Tarô’s mother’s dresses,
the rainbow symbolizes the spectrum of life and that what first appears“stormy”
or scandalous and dark, like incest, adultery, abortion, homosexuality, needs to beunderstood in“light”of the context. As Irène Oore explains when talking about
incest in Le Poids des secrets, such scandalous behaviour in North America“canrepresent a rapport that is fusional, natural, and innocent”(44) for other readers. In
the description of the rainbow, it is important to take into account the comparison to
the hydrangea plant, as it seems to restore Hanako’s innocence (flower) and nuance“gratitude,”
the interpretation of the scene. Associated varyingly with“apologies,”“immortality”and a“fickle heart,”(45) the hydrangea, a flower indigenous to Japan,

designates the unfortunate and fortunate nature of the situation in which the two
characters are separated as lovers, but reunited as half brother and sister.
Indeed, the flower, which is mentioned in terms of the rainbow by Tarô at the
beginning of the novel and then by Hanako at the end alludes to their bond while
implicitly signaling that a change of heart has occurred. They are“kin,”according
to the English expression used to designate blood relations and will remain close,
but in a“different”way in the future. Finding themselves like orphans, tied only totheir grandparents,(46) Tarô and Hanako recall at the end of the novel the parts of abroken heart, but that will ultimately heal with the passage of time. While this goesunsaid in the“silence”(172) evoked as they contemplate this spectacle of naturethat follows a storm, it is clear that life will go on and that what has been gained
outweighs the loss. Wabi sabi in nature and filled with“reverberating images thatseem‘larger’ than the small verbal frame that holds them”(Koren, 54), this scene
plays on the question of resolve, the cyclical nature of life, and speaks to the poetic
aesthetic pervading Shimazaki’s novels in which she literally attempts to write/
right wrongs or injustices.

– 50 –

Conclusion
Having written against“injustices”(Amyot, 48) in Japan before moving to
Canada,(47) Shimazaki’s fiction is preoccupied with this“universal theme”(49) andappears to be an extension to her prior social engagement. Political in many ways
like her previous works, L’ombre du chardon, as we have seen, deals with various
collective social taboos, but focuses on individual issues and their resolution in
ways that are fitting or poetic in“nature.”In the novels, works of literature andarts participate in the renewal process of the characters who ultimately confront
questions related to nature. Indeed, in Shimazaki ’ s novels, we are witness toa dialogue with natural processes and the idea that life ’ s unpredictable anddisquieting tendencies are to be embraced and not rejected, as it is the case withkintsugi, and that a compromise between rationality and impulse is the key topersonal and ultimately collective fulfilment.
In Azami, for example, Shimazaki insists on natural sexual needs, but also onlove and respect for the other. In Hôzuki where the notion of forcing nature andmotherhood is questioned, the author insists that bonds are based in caring and notnecessarily blood and the need for forgiveness. Playing on the nurture/nature debate, this novel highlights the interaction between the two as does Suisen, in whicha lack of self-love, the respect of one’s natural disposition, and artificiality causes
heartbreak and betrayal. Cultivating nature is the main theme in Fuki-No-Tô andthen is an important idea in Maïmaï where the author cautions against giving inentirely to it and the need to keep things in perspective. While the novels all criticize the taboo surrounding“divorce”and stress the importance of obeying one’s nature, the pentalogy emphasizes striking a balance. Like the snail in Maïmaï, who isultimately associated with Madame Sato (172), perched on a leaf, it is important tounderstand how to bear one’s burdens and know that while nature can protect us, it
can also make us fall or lose our balance.
Favouring a balanced philosophical stance with respect to nature and life ingeneral, Shimazaki points repeatedly to the importance of love, human expression,and sensitivity in L’ombre du chardon and the need to confront what is repressed. In
the novels, this occurs via lullabies, which speak to the give-and-take nature of life
and the need to embrace its highs and lows. Associated with rocking and back-andforth movements, these cradle songs represent the poetic and carefully weighted
nature of justice at play in Shimazaki’s world where characters suffer, become lost,– 51 –

but eventually find their way and personal redemption. These soothing words, while
haunting the characters, ultimately guide them along a winding introspective path
towards a deeper understanding of themselves and others, allowing them to rightwrongs.
In the end, Shimazaki nurtures her troubled characters in the sense that theyfind a“juste milieu,”a happy medium in their lives, and their place in the world.
They grow with the changing environments they find themselves in and are renewed, like the seasons, which we often use to describe life. In this way, the relatively happy endings characterizing the novels composing L’ombre du chardon do
not stem from a naïve belief that things always turn out, but rather life’s regenerational capacity, its ability to rewrite itself, and create a new story. Poetic in thisway, nature’s cyclical patterns are at the base of the balance or wa established at
the end of each novel and have seemingly inspired all Shimazaki’s literary endeavours. Working in cycles, Shimazaki is constantly bringing characters back, renewing
aspects, and alluding to others in an attempt to do justice to the poetic nature andcomplexity of life.

Note(1) All English translations from the original French are mine. I have not given the
French equivalents largely resembling the English, but have provided the pages
to specific references and moments within the novels.
(2) Consisting of ten articles, this volume covers a vast range of topics dealing withquestions of identity, resilience, eroticism, intertextuality, traumatism as wellas the role of historical context in Shimazaki’s works, which are ultimately partof Quebec’s migrant literature.
(3) The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Literary Terms defines poetic justice as“themorally reassuring allocation of happy and unhappy fates to the virtuous
and the vicious characters respectively, usually at the end of a narrative or
dramatic work. The term was first coined by the critic Thomas Rymer in his The
Tragedies of the Last Age consider’d (1678) with reference to Elizabethan poetic
drama: such justice is‘poetic’, then, in the sense that it occurs more often in thefictional plots of plays than in real life. As Miss Prism explains in Oscar Wilde’s
The Importance of Being Ernest,‘The good end happily, and the bad unhappily.
That is what Fiction means.’ In a slightly different but commonly used sense,
the term may also refer to strikingly appropriate reward or punishment, usually‘fitting retribution’ by which a villain is ruined by some process of his own
making”(197).

– 52 –

(4) This expression is explained in terms of cause and effect in Japaneseness and isassociated to the saying“as man sows, so shall he reap”(104).
(5) Kertzer sees poetic justice as“true to what is irregular in human experience andunaccountable in the convolutions of thought”(15), an idea that corresponds tokintsugi’s valorization of damaged goods.
(6) Koren’s book evokes kintsugi (67) and poetry (54-55) in his purposefully nonabsolute definition.
(7) In the novel, Atsuko describes the flower as“épineuse”(42).
(8) Mitsuo reflects on the similarities between their names (66) and signals thatthey are both from Nagoya (67), while Mitsuko explains that they both have aremarried father (117-118).
(9) “Son métier d’aujourd’hui n’a rien à voir avec ceux de son rêve”(36).
(10) “A qui rêves-tu ? Viens, viens vers moi. Je m’appelle Azami. Je suis la fleur qui
berce la nuit”(32).
(11) See“Plato’s Pharmacy”in Derrida’s Dissemination.
(12) Citing Derrida’s“Force of Law”in which he says“Deconstruction is justice”(14-15), Kertzer declares:“Formulated in this way, Deconstruction is poetic
justice”(17).
(13) “Rédacteur, cela te va bien. Mieux que cameraman”(52).
(14) This episode in the Mistuko’s mother’s life is covered in more detail in Hôzuki
(88-89).
(15) “Et ce drame chaotique m’a enfin amené à reprendre une vie normale avec ma
femme que j’aime toujours”(123).
(16) Mitsuko relates the meaning of Kako Sato’s name: excellent or beautiful childand village/country (12).
‘Nous nous sommes ainsi croisés, toi qui as été abandonné, et moi qui me suis(17) “fait avorter’”(118).
(18) Kintarô is an extremely popular folk hero in Japan. His image adorns
everything from statues to storybooks, anime, manga, to action figures.
(19) Seijin is a Coming-of-Age Day in Japan, celebrating adulthood. In the past,
it was associated with the first full moon of the Chinese lunar calendar year
(koshogatsu).
(20) Mitsuko’s mother speaks to Tarô about her faith. He speaks to his mother about“confession”(33-35).
(21) “Hôzuki, hôzuki, l’amour en cage / Orange comme le lis tigré, / Éclatante commele soleil. / Quelle joie ! Tu es ma lumière !”(83).
(22) “Ses paroles me reviennent :‘Gorô, tu es un enfant blessé’”(12).
(23) The letter“ m ”that is Sayoko’ s last name evokes“ e-mu ”which can mean
“blessing”and“dream”in Japanese.
(24) In a conversation with Gorô, Sayoko says:“J’ai l’impression que tu changes
d’amante comme de chemise”and that“Les êtres humains ne sont pas des vêtements”(135).
(25) Gorô ’ s wife relates what their son said to her:“’ Papa ne changera pas deconduit. Je crois qu’il est toujours blessé par son enfance malheureuse, qu’il n’a– 53 –

pas pu developer son amour de soi”(114).
(26) “’Dans le champ de suisen, tu danses en me berçant / Dans tes bras tendres,
je regarde ton sourire doux. / Ton visage est comme un soleil. / Ne me quitte
jamais, maman !’”(25).
(27) “J’observe le visage du garcon comme si c’était le mien, et celui de la femmecomme si c’était ma vraie mère”(146).
(28) “Je commence la cueillette en lui expliquant que les fuki portent des fleurs soit
males, soit femelles, comme celle des épinards”(12).
(29) Fukiko tells the story of her cousin, a lesbian who committed suicide (59) due topressure from her lover to“come out.”Atsuko says that while people are more
open to homosexuality, it is still a delicate topic:“Néanmoins, ce sujet est encore
délicat dans la vie privée”(60).
(30) “Dans le cahier, chacune notait ses pensées sur la vie et la philosophie, descommentaires sur un film ou un livre. Et surtout ses sentiments envers l’autre”(33).
(31) Exile to Sado in the 8th century when Japan assumed control of the island
was a very serious punishment, second only to death. The earliest known
dissident condemned to the island was a poet, Hozumi no Asomi Oyu in 722, forsupposedly having criticized the emperor.
(32) “Le problème, c’est moi qui n’ai pas été sûre de moi-même”(141).
(33) The idea that Tarô eyes are opened in the story is confirmed when Hanako sings asong while preparing breakfast with him:“Escargot, Escargot, où sont tes yeux ?”(where are your eyes) (109).
(34) Tarô’s grandmother says that Mitsuko was“Trop belle, trop sensuelle, trop
intelligente pour appartenir à un seul homme !”(85).
(35) See McKeon’s book on this topic.
(36) This event that Doctor Taki or Taki-sensei explains to Tarô via a written
message that recalls a letter is mentioned in passing in Hôzuki. See 45.
(37) Having returned from Belgium with her husband, who is unfaithful, Kako Sato
faints in the kitchen of their house (120) while preparing tea after meeting Tarô
who Hanako presents as her“fiancé”(117). She is subsequently hospitalized in
Kyoto where her parents live.
(38) “Elle est mentalement malade, mais je crois tout ce qu’elle m’a raconté”(171).
(39) After meeting Dr. Taki, Tarô imagines how he and his mother legally became
mother and son and imagines the circumstances in terms of a story beginning
as follows:“À Kanazawa, une jeune fille vivait seule. Un jour, elle rencontra un
bel Européen”(139).
(40) “Je n’ai jamais vu quelqu’un l’utiliser avec autant d’élégrance que toi”(49).
(41) “La pluie a cessé et la lumière du soleil pointe entre des nuages blancs”(170).
(42) “Ses couleurs vives me rappellent les fleurs d’hortensia […]. Captivé par ce
spectacle de la nature, j’oublie un moment le sérieux de la situation”(9).
(43) “Je ne peux plus me retenir. Elle m’agrippe. J’éjacule”(96).
(44) “Une fois de plus, un lecteur nord-américain pourrait être scandalisé, mais ce
comportement peut signifier un rapport fusionnel, naturel et innocent à d’autres– 54 –

lecteurs”(57).
(45) Called Ajisai in Japan, the hydrangea is known as“nanahenge”(the flower ofseven formations) as it changes colour according to the acidity of the soil. The
flower is featured in Japanese poetry and is varyingly associated with apologies,
immortality, and gratitude.
(46) Hanako explains at the end of the novel that her mother, due to her mental
illness, can now divorce (168-169) her father, who is a play-boy diplomate andwhose first wife committed“suicide”(107) in a mental institution, due in partto his infidelities. This is mentioned in passing in Hôzuki (60).
(47) See Shimazaki ’ s interview with Linda Amyot (48-49) where she explainsthat that she used to send letters to newspapers denouncing injustices andconstantly battled unjust treatments by people in power.

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