The Japan Society Review 68
Book, Stage, Film, Arts and Events Review

Issue 68 Volume 12 Number 2 (April 2017)

Dr Carmen Blacker (1924-2009), scholar and teacher ofJapanese religion and folklore, was an important figure in
the field of Japanese Studies in the UK. The book Carmen
Blacker – Scholar of Japanese Religion, Myth and Folklore:
Writings and Reflections, reviewed for this issue of The
Japan Society Review by Jim E Hoare, offers new insights
into her research and life. This tribute volume not only
includes texts written by family members, friends andcolleagues, but also reproduces excerpts from Carmen
Blacker’s diaries and some of her writings giving ‘afascinating picture of a very full life’.
Like the pioneer work of Carmen Blacker, the books
and films reviewed in the April issue of The Japan Society
Review continue to examine a wide-range of topics inJapanese culture and history. Our film reviewer Roger Macy
looks at two very different films dealing with unexplored
war-time relationships: the activities of a poets’ group in
occupied Taiwan (Le Moulin) and the experiences of an Irish
prisoner of war in Japan (A Doctor’s Sword). Also involving

the military past of Japan and its legacy in the presentday, Sir Hugh Cortazzi reviews the English translation of
Kumagai Naoko’s work The Comfort Women: Historical,
Political, Legal and Moral Perspectives which discusses indetail the controversial issue of female sexual slavery in theJapanese colonies during World War II.
In terms of Japanese fiction and literature, this issue
brings you reviews of the latest translation of celebrated
writer Kawakami Hiromi (Record of a Night Too Brief
reviewed by Harry Martin) and the second novel of theyoung author Shibasaki Tomoka (Spring Garden reviewed
by Eluned Gramich), both recently published by Pushkin
Press. And to better understand and contextualise theseand other works of Japanese modern and contemporary
literature, The Routledge Handbook of Modern Japanese
Literature. reviewed by Alice French, could be a useful andstimulating resource.
Alejandra Armendariz-Hernandez

Contents
1)

Record of a Night Too Brief by Kawakami Hiromi

2)

Spring Garden by Tomoka Shibasaki

3)

The Routledge Handbook of Modern Japanese Literature

4)

A Doctor’s Sword directed by Gary Lennon

5)

Le Moulin directed by Huang Ya-li

6)

The Comfort Women: Historical, Political, Legal and Moral
Perspectives by Kumagai Naoko

7)

Carmen Blacker – Scholar of Japanese Religion, Myth andFolklore: Writings and Reflections

EditorAlejandra Armendariz-Hernandez
Reviewers
Sir Hugh Cortazzi, Alice French, Eluned Gramich, Jim E Hoare, Harry
Martin and Roger Macy.
(Photo: Carmen Blacker at temple, 1974
Courtesy of Renaissance Books)

Record of a Night Too Brief
by Kawakami Hiromi
Translated by Lucy North
Pushkin Press (2017)
ISBN: 9781782272717
Review by Harry Martin
Kawakami Hiromi’s writing is well known for its original
and detailed descriptions of everyday life portrayedwith splendid artistry and trade-mark, off-beat style inher most famous novels, The Nakano Thrift Shop andStrange Weather in Tokyo. Her fascinating explorationsof secret lives and relationships and the often nocturnaland crepuscular activities of her characters capture theimagination and draw readers into a world unique to
Kawakami’s work. Record of a Night Too Brief is a lateaddition to her translated works, having only beenreleased to the English speaking world in 2017 despite
its Japanese publication in 1996, over 20 years ago!
Originally released under the Japanese title Hebi wo
fumu (A Snake Stepped On), the book incorporates three
short stories of an abstract and surreal nature which thetranslator Lucy North has managed to capture in thiswell thought-out and ambitious translation.
The three stories are distinctly different fromone another but follow a unifying theme of yearning,
desire and longing in the minds of young women inthree very different states. The first story (Record of a
Night Too Brief) is a surreal, complex journey throughthe dreams and subconscious thoughts of a young
woman who follows a mysterious and ethereal being
through interwoven dream worlds where animals
talk and objects and people have no defined mass orstate. The delicate textured prose transfers the reader
from dream to dream with seemingly no relevanceor connection between them other than the driving
force of the protagonist’s lust and desire. The second
story (Missing) explores the complex emotions andeffects of grief, focusing on a sister’s desire to see herlost brother again; and the third (A Snake SteppedOn) is a profoundly unique story of a girl’s relationshipwith a shape-shifting snake who infiltrates her life,

Spring Garden
by Shibasaki Tomoka
Translated by Polly Barton
Pushkin Press (2017)
ISBN: 978-1782272700
Review by Eluned Gramich
2

incorporating an almost biblical theme of temptationand enticement.
Fans of Kawakami’s other works may find thesestories somewhat removed from her more familiar
focus on the everyday and often mundane aspectsof suburban life, as these seem to draw much moreheavily on traditional Japanese folklore, mythology
and superstition. The notion of shape-shifting is very
prominent in Japanese myths, as is the personificationof animals and natural objects which play recurringand important roles in this work. In all three stories
transformation, whether from human to animal,
physical to abstract or large to small, features heavily
and contributes largely to the intangible nature anddreamlike feel of the book.
A Snake Stepped On seems the most traditionaland endemic in its inspiration, as snakes adopting female
form is a widespread mythology through much of Japan;
however, its setting in a contemporary Tokyo context
creates a delightfully anachronistic aspect and contrast.
Missing adopts a far more universal theme and canperhaps relate to a wider audience as it covers grief andlonging in a way which transcends cultural boundaries.
The loss associated with the change in human state fromphysical to spiritual may be universal, but Kawakami still
manages to infuse a uniquely Japanese slant by setting
the sense of loss among the complex negotiations of
traditional wedding arrangements between families.
The first story is perhaps unique in this theme, as there
is a multitude of shapeshifting beings which seem tohave been drawn from Japanese mythology yet also
Kawakami’s own imagination. There is somethingalmost Alice in Wonderland-like about the abstract anddisjoined fantasy and anthropomorphism of horses,
moles and monkeys.
In some ways this is a typical Kawakami work, withthe expected eccentricities any fan is likely to enjoy; but
in other ways the work stands apart from her others,
and with characters continuously changing form, shapeand size, this is a truly fantastical story which requires
thorough reading, yet rewards with rich imagery thatwill challenge anyone’s powers of imagination.§

Spring Garden is the second novel by Osaka-born
Shibasaki Tomoka, having had her debut, A Day on
the Planet, adapted into a successful film in Japan. Thisnew book has also garnered the young author great
acclaim, earning her the national Akutagawa Prize in
2014. Beautifully and subtly translated by Polly Barton,
Spring Garden centres on twenty-something Taro.
Issue 68, Volume 12, Number 2 (April 2017)

Recently divorced after a short-lived marriage and stillreeling from the death of his father, Taro lives on his own
in a one-bed flat in a condemned apartment block. The
story follows him and his two neighbours who remainin the emptying building; the ones left behind, without
much in the way of family. The unusual friendshipthat unfolds between Taro and Nishi, the womanfrom the top floor, leads him to surprising discoveries
about his neighbourhood. She spends her timespying on the magnificent family house opposite theirconcrete block of flats. After discovering a coffee-tablearchitecture book featuring the house called Spring
Garden – reminiscent of an art and lifestyle magazine– which she shows Taro, the two of them become
fixated on the building’s sky-blue walls, décor, gardens
and, eventually, even the family who move in. ‘Spring
Garden’ becomes a symbol of everything that the two
wish for in life: style, space, independence, wealth,comfort and, most important of all, companionship.
The interest in urban living and the narratives thatarise from so many strangers living in close proximity
is not new, especially for contemporary literature set
in Tokyo. However, Shibasaki succeeds in creating aunique atmosphere, poised between mystery andsympathy, violence and kindness. It isn’t just a storyof loneliness in a big city; rather, Shibasaki shifts thefocus onto the aesthetics of living, and the important
relationships that may form by way of art andarchitecture. Although the novel takes place in a very
real, specific place – Setagaya, a middle-class suburb ofTokyo – it is also a dream world. Both Nishi and Taroare big dreamers, walking the world with their headin the clouds, and this is partly what makes them such
sympathetic characters. Taro, in his laziness and lack

The Routledge Handbookof Modern Japanese
Literatureedited by Rachael Hutchinsonand Leith Douglas Morton
Routledge (2016)
ISBN: 978-1138792296
Review by Alice French
As a student of modern Japanese literature, it is seldomthat I have anything affectionate to say about literary
handbooks. I invariably associate them with essay
crises and revision, and so was very surprised to findmyself picking up the new Routledge Handbook of
Latest reviews: www.japansociety.org.uk/resources/reviews/of ambition, spends most of his time dozing in his flat,reflecting and wondering; Nishi is an anime artist andlives through, and by, her imagination, which includes
her passion for the blue-walled house next door and allthat it represents. In some ways it’s a modern story for an
instagram-age. Like Kinfolk magazine, ‘Spring Garden’shows off the seemingly ‘better’ life of an artist couple: awoman doing yoga within perfectly decorated rooms,
a man digging in an enviable garden. Nishi clings to thebook like a bible: it doesn’t matter that these images
don’t reflect the complex and unhappy episodes of thecouple’s actual life.
Shibasaki’s writing is measured, understated andpoetic at the right moments. The language comes alive
as she hones in on the grotesque details of plants andanimals, the details of a potter’s wasp and Japanesesnowbell, for instance. Taro’s grief at losing his father
is portrayed in physical, tangible terms: he grinds hisfather’s remains in a pestle and mortar so that they arefine enough to scatter, leaving traces of his father’s bodyin his kitchen. The way that Shibasaki pulls together
the threads of Taro’s family life and colleagues without
turning the focus away from the condemned building
is deftly done, deepening a reader’s sympathy with him
and making the novel difficult to put down.
When a new family with young children moveinto Spring Garden, Nishi befriends them and pulls
Taro into the circle too. The events of the novel reacha fraught climax with the apartment block about to be
demolished, and Taro forced into making decisions
about the future that he has spent years avoiding.
Spring Garden is a brief, compassionate tale about loss,
friendship and architecture, and the many ways we canlive our lives.§

Modern Japanese Literature to read for pleasure. The
conveniently short chapters make it very easy to dip
in and out of, and the eclectic mixture of themes andwriters covered means that there really is something toplease everyone. From Tanizaki to Twitter novels andfeminism to Marxism, this handbook skilfully conveys
the extensive scope of modern Japanese literature, in
only 341 pages.
The Routledge Handbook is particularly refreshing
because it does not tackle Japanese literature froman exclusively chronological perspective. Instead, theessays are grouped thematically, creating sections
on space and time, gender and sexuality, identity,
technology and several others. The first chapter,
Stephen Dodd’s Space and Time in Modern Japanese3

Literature, sets the stage perfectly for what is to follow,
taking the reader back to the Meiji period and Nagai
Kafu’s 1909 work The River Sumida to explain Japanese
literature’s unique relationship with the concepts oftime and space, rooted in the “particularly problematic”
notion of the Japanese “home.” Chapter two, Jon Holt’s
essay on modern haiku and tanka, complements
Dodd’s ideas well by exploring “the Japanese sensitivity
to time” in poetry. Along with Freedman’s chapter
on Kawabata Yasunari and Seaman’s discussion ofisolation in women’s literature, the handbook succeeds
in providing an effective overview of some of thefundamentals of modern Japanese literature.
However, the book does not dwell for too longon these, and its true merit lies in its focus on theless talked about themes in contemporary Japanese
literature. Section two, for example, covers gender andsexuality, with J. Keith Vincent offering a detailed insight
into queer reading in Japanese literature and both
Hartley and Hutchinson providing interesting takes on
Japanese feminism. In fact, the Routledge Handbook
as a whole really gives female writers the exposure
they deserve, but are often deprived of, with Angela
Liu celebrating the work of Mizumura Minae, Kendall
Heitzman musing on the rise of women writers, andJonathan E. Abel giving a nod to the “empress of thecell phone novel,” Naito Mika. As Rachael Hutchinsonand Leith Morton aptly argue in their introduction, itis this inclusion of significant sections on queer andfemale fiction that differentiates this handbook from its
predecessors and makes it truly up-to-date.
This is not to say that this handbook is only usefulwhen researching contemporary literature; it also
includes comprehensive sections on the works of early
20th century writers and pre- and post-war fiction.
I found Chapter Nineteen, The Akutagawa/Tanizaki
debate: actors in bundan discourse, especially helpfulwhen writing an essay on Tanizaki’s naturalism last term.
Section Four, which focuses on writing war memory,also acts as a useful, interesting and tactful summary of
the effect of World War Two on Japan’s literature, butdoes not dominate the book, avoiding the temptationof defining contemporary fiction purely as a responseto the war. The final section instead focuses on Japan’s
crowning achievement of the post-war period: its
technology. Hansen, Saito and Abel provide fascinating
perspectives on everything from cell phone novels toTwitterature, bringing the reader’s journey into modern
Japanese literature right up to the present day.
Overall therefore, perhaps disappointingly, I haven’t got
one bad word to say against the Routledge Handbookof Modern Japanese Literature. It is well-organised,well-written and, above all, not boring. I could not ask
any more of a literary handbook, and can therefore
see myself forming a firm friendship with this one as I
persevere with my studies of Japanese literature.§

A Doctor’s Sword
directed by Gary Lennon
Screened at the Bertha DocHouse (18 March 2017)
Review by Roger Macy
Does an Irish documentary film deserve space in theJapan Society Review? Only in that it was partly filmed
in Japan and the makers have sought to make some
generalisations about Japan after its screening in
London.
A Doctor’s Sword had the potential to explore aninteresting, off-beat topic – the relationship of Ireland
to Japan during WorldWar II. In my own researches into
the period, I have noticed that Japanese-sponsored,
English-language material on culture, even tourist
promotion material, is likely to turn up in Ireland –the only English-speaking country in the world withwhich Japan did not engage in warfare. I have also
noticed the intense annoyance of the British Foreign
Office at the tardiness of bringing to heel the Japanese4

representative to Dublin at the end of the war. The
complexity of the subject expands when one considers
the 50,000 Irishmen who served – for their old colonial
masters – in the British Forces in WorldWar II.
Aidan MacCarthy was a newly qualified medical
doctor from County Cork when he signed up in
London in 1939 with the RAF, “for the money”, hisfamily report in the film. When caught in the fall ofSingapore, MacCarthy’s troubles and journeys begin.
The film duly recounts the well-known maltreatment
Issue 68, Volume 12, Number 2 (April 2017)

of prisoners of war (POW) by Japan in WorldWar II, but
completely overlooks the much worse treatment of
those without POW status. Having got in so deep, one
can surely forgive MacCarthy when we catch sight of
his Japanese POW record as ‘Joseph MacCarthy, British’,
but it’s a detail the film accidentally gives us and is notcommented on.
The real Aidan MacCarthy lived an honourable life
as a doctor in Ireland after the war but, unfortunately
didn’t write of his experiences until the 1990s, after astroke. We hear his recorded voice on the radio fromthat time, presenting himself as purely a “Catholic
Irishman”. Even 40 years later – and even now, wellinto the third millennium – the dual identity of manyof those in Ireland cannot, it seems, be openly faced.
It’s not just that the border-crossing between Irelandand the U.K. in 1939 is invisible to the viewer in thisfilm, the heroic fight against the Axis powers, in which

MacCarthy took part, is implicitly owned by anyone of
MacCarthy’s identity. With so much history suppressed,
the film devotes itself to the titular sword, residing since1945 in County Cork, together with a photograph of aJapanese officer, wearing same sword, offering ‘this’,i.e., the photograph, as a token of friendship. Of course,
the surrender of swords was the outwardly and bodily
token of a hundred thousand surrenders and more.
The evident fact that, when jailer became prisoner,
this particular sword did not make its way up the chainof command, is a misappropriation long since timebarred. For this film, however, its ‘gift’ was a uniquetoken of everlasting friendship, worthy of far more timethan MacCarthy ever seemed to have spent on it.
The film’s director, Gary Lennon, was present for a
Q&A at the Bertha Dochouse. He had been to Japan. He
wanted to tell us how “the Japanese” are not facing up
to their WorldWar II history.§

Le Moulin

Filmmaker Huang Yali has told his story entirelyin the Japanese words of
his subjects. Much of the
162 minutes of this film are
devoted to the poetry. Most
are narrated by a Japanese
speaker,withwrittentranslations on screen in
Mandarin and English. A few
were presented in written
Japanese, also with translations. But a story was told,
because these members had also been vivid letterwriters, often reporting from Tokyo to their distantisland.
Whilst the spoken word is the driving mediumof the film, Huang manages to construct a film withsome strong visual imagery. He is helped by many ofthe poems that use household objects as metaphors.
These poets were of a modernist hue so Huang could
relate their subjects to contemporary newsreel footage
as, more easily, he could do with the letters.
Reaction to individual poems is a very personal
thing and the combination of Huang’s aural and visual
imagery that I liked might not, I accept, appeal to others.
The combination of translations and imagery gave me asense of understanding of the Japanese that would not
be justified by my linguistic ability. I was helped further
in this respect by a Hokkien-speaking maid, who has
to learn Japanese in order to address her employing
family in acceptable manner. I was offered a ladder up

directed by Huang Ya-li
Screened at the ICA in the Essay Film Festival (29March 2017)
Review by Roger Macy
There are all sorts of banners under which a Japanesefilm might be screened in the UK, and a recent banner
was the Essay Film Festival, now in its third year in
London. However, Le Moulin, might seem a strange
choice for a Japan Society review – arriving undera French title in London, changed from its original
Mandarin Chinese title. Nevertheless, the film’s
language, apart from translations for the listener, wasentirely Japanese and its subject was very much about
Japanese culture.
Le Moulin comes from the name of a poetry society
in Taiwan in the 1930s. Its authors, like most educatedpeople in Taiwan at the time, wrote entirely in Japanese.
This particular society wrapped itself in a modernist
banner and tied itself overtly to metropolitan France.
Its members continued to write and publish after
wartime print restrictions closed Le Moulin. Abruptly in1945, Japanese language was suppressed and a sliceof Taiwanese cultural history became unavailable tosubsequent generations, until recent scholarly interest.
Uncovering the unknown is, of course, the businessof documentary film. But there are no known moving
images of the members of Le Moulin, and this work isof a rarer genre – that of the poetry film.
Latest reviews: www.japansociety.org.uk/resources/reviews/

5

to the poetry, aided further by a recreated programmeof ‘let’s practise Japanese’ on a made-believe radio.
The film has passages of recreated footage shotby Huang, some in Tokyo. It also has a post-war coda,
when several of the members found themselves verymuch on the wrong end of the White Terror. Alas,with poetry and historic images for this period being
unavailable, it makes for a bleak ending. There’s very
little more that I should or could say. In reviewing
those other select members of the poetry-film genre,
I can at least pull down the translated poem of, say,Tarkovsky’s father, write it down, and conjure up his
son’s imagery in Mirror. But Le Moulin’s poems arestill to be made readily available. It’s possible that thetranslation was part of the appeal for me, as it could
equally be for Taiwanese Mandarin-speakers now:
unlike the only book published so far which renders
the poems into Mandarin without benefit of theoriginals, Huang makes a point of serving up a courseof Taiwan’s linguistic history as it was spoken. This is
all the more remarkable, as Huang is not a Japanesespeaker, but used collaborators. So, will the poems
measure up to the ears and eyes of today’s speakers
of Japanese? Fortunately, Huang is taking his film toJapan this summer so at least the topic can be opened
to scrutiny.§

The Comfort Women: Historical, Political, Legal and Moral Perspectives

The Comfort Women:
Historical, Political, Legaland Moral Perspectives
by Kumagai Naoko
Translated by David Noble
LTCB International Library
Trust/International House ofJapan (2016)
ISBN: 978-4 924971-42-4
This book is an English
translation of Ianfu mondai, originally published by
Chikuma Shobo (2014)
Review by Sir Hugh Cortazzi
The ‘Comfort Women’ remain a contentious issue
especially between Japan and South Korea. This
book, which looks soberly at the various perspectivesof the problem, is a valuable contribution to ourunderstanding of the issue. Kumagai Naoko first sets
out the ‘points of contention’ and goes on to discuss
the facts that can be firmly established. She asks ‘howmuch free will did the comfort women have’ and theextent of coercion exercised by the Japanese military
authorities. She looks at the problem in the context
of sexual violence in war and occupation. She also
considers the historical background and officiallylicensed prostitution in Japan.
In Chapter Three, she considers where
responsibility for the suffering of comfort women liesand ‘why Japan’s military regulations did not prevent
rape and enforced prostitution’. This leads on to a
discussion in Chapter Four, of the Asian Women’s Fundand Japan’s moral responsibilities. In this, she compares
Japan’s response with the German Foundation’Remembrance, Responsibility, and Future’. Chapter
Five concentrates on the evolving concept of women’s
6human rights. In the Final Chapter she seeks for a way
to achieve genuine reconciliation.
The author notes that the comfort womenissue first emerged as a political controversy at the
beginning of the 1990s. Why did it take so longafter the end of the war to become contentious andwhy has it remained so hot a subject compared for
instance to the treatment of allied prisoners of war
or the misery and destruction caused by Japaneseforces in China and the territories occupied by Japanin the Pacific War? Kumagai Naoko does not confront
these questions directly, but one reason was surely thelegalistic approach at first adopted by the Japanese
government in order to limit its obligations to pay
compensation. This was compounded by Japaneseinsensitivity to what was a highly emotional issue
especially for the Korean women who had been
coerced into becoming sex slaves for the Japanesemilitary. Feelings in Korea were also incensed by theattempt of Japanese historical revisionists to rewrite
the history of the Japanese aggression in Asia.
Kumagai Naoko notes (page 6) that when theissue was raised in House of Councillors in June
1990 the Japanese ministry of labour asserted that
comfort women had been recruited by private sector
entrepreneurs and it was ‘beyond its capacity toinvestigate the matter’. This was not accurate. There
had been comfort stations operated by the Japanesemilitary. The women were supposed to be paid fortheir services but it seems clear that many ‘did notactually receive the money they were owed’ (page 29).
The majority of the comfort women were Korean
or Japanese although people of other races andnationalities were involved in occupied territories.
Kumagai rejects the argument made by some Japaneseconservatives that comfort women should be equatedIssue 68, Volume 12, Number 2 (April 2017)

with licensed prostitutes. She also contests arguments
based on Japanese military regulations, which paid
scant attention to adherence to international law.
The crucial statement of 4 August 1993 by Kono
Yohei on comfort women (reproduced on pages 98
and 99) acknowledged the involvement, direct andindirect, of the Japanese military in the establishment
and administration of the comfort stations as well as in
the recruitment of the women involved. She notes thatJapanese prime ministers Hashimoto Ryutaro, Obuchi
Keizo, Mori Yoshiro and Koizumi Junichiro issued lettersof apology which expressed personal remorse andcontrition, but these were not regarded as a sufficientacknowledgement of the Japanese government’s

responsibility for the comfort women system andhence of a legal obligation to pay compensation.
Kumagai concludes (page 178) that the Koreandemand for ‘sincerity’ from Japan stems from thefact that they do not sense integrity and consistency
in Japan’s apologies, because ‘it is unclear what theapologies are for’ and because they are sometimes
accompanied by ‘controversial remarks appearing
to justify Japan’s past actions.’ She understands the
Korean demand for ‘uncovering the historical truth’.
In order to achieve a fundamental resolution of the
comfort women issue she urges that it should ‘beunderstood as an issue of individual human rights’.§

Carmen Blacker – Scholar of Japanese Religion, Myth and Folklore: Writings and Reflections

Carmen Blacker – Scholarof Japanese Religion,
Myth and Folklore:
Writings and Reflectionsedited by Sir Hugh Cortazziwith James McMullen andMary-Grace Browning
Renaissance Books (2017)
ISBN: 978-1-898823-56-8
Review by Jim E Hoare
I only met Dr Carmen Blacker (1924-2009) once,
towards the end of her life, when she was already very
ill. Although our only previous contact had been asomewhat scratchy exchange of letters over a possible
contribution to a volume of Biographical Portraits that
I edited, I found her easy to talk to and charming. Our
main common ground was her first book, on Fukuzawa
Yukichi, which had been published in 1964, as I started
my own far less distinguished career in JapaneseStudies. Reading this fascinating mixture of her diaries,
more formal writings and reminiscences by those who
knew her makes me wish I had known her better. Her
companion and later husband, Dr Michael Loewe,
and several former students and friends contributememoirs. These inevitably overlap, but they bring out
the many formative influences that made her what
she was.
Clearly important was family life and school. It was
through school that she met Julia Piggott. Carmen was
already interested in Japan and the Japanese language
but the meeting with Julia Piggott was to provide astrong boost to that interest. Julia, who had actually
lived in Japan, was the granddaughter of F. T. Piggott, alegal adviser to the Meiji government and the daughter
Latest reviews: www.japansociety.org.uk/resources/reviews/of his son, Major General F. S. T. Piggott, twice militaryattaché in Tokyo. The friendship would last until Julia’s
death, and the encounter would consolidate Carmen’sinterest in things Japanese and eventually lead to hercareer in Japanese studies. General Piggott, perhaps
recognizing a fellow enthusiast, encouraged her andprovided her with formal training in the language. He
was something of a controversial figure, who could
see no wrong in the Japanese, but Carmen clearly
regarded him with affection and benefitted from his
training as her account of “Two Piggotts”, published in
1991[1], makes clear.
Piggott’s tutoring and her own efforts meantthat by the time war came with Japan in 1941, shealready had a good command of Japanese. After someintensive training in military Japanese at SOAS, shejoined Bletchley Park. It was not a happy experience.
She felt undervalued both in terms of salary and thework she was given. However valuable it might havebeen as war work, she did not enjoy the monotony ofcarding Japanese words that might just be useful in
decoding. She was much happier when she moved
back to SOAS as a special lecturer in Japanese, a movewhich also allowed her to enrol in a Japanese degree
course; her fellow students included other futureleading lights in Japanese studies, including Ron Dore.
Although in those days her first in 1947 would havequalified her for a university post, she preferred tospend another two years studying the quite different
field of Philosophy, Politics and Economics at Oxford. A
scholarship at Harvard followed. But whatever else she
was doing, her interest in Japan did not fade. A Treasury
Scholarship finally took her to Japan soon after the fallof General MacArthur. Japan was still under post-war
occupation and MacArthur, the Supreme Commander
7

of the Allied Forces, had hitherto refused to allow
such visits. In Japan, she worked on the thought of
the nineteenth-century thinker and educationalist,
Fukuzawa Yukichi, founder of Keio University. This
would become her SOAS PhD thesis and her first book.
She was however, moving into more exotic
areas of study. In Japan she did not confine herself tolibraries or the study of documents. She travelled andrevelled in what she could do and see. More and more
she was drawn into what would become her life’s
work into the realms of orthodox and esoteric religion,
and myth. These were not abstract studies. She began
visiting temples and shrines, participating in services
and ceremonies, some most rigorous. It was a practice
she followed well into her advancing years. It gave hera real insight into the more remote parts of Japan.
It also revealed how much the country hadchanged over the fifty years from her first arrival. Once
pilgrims had travelled in decrepit trains and then hiked
far into the mountains to reach their sacred destination.
By the time of her later visits, all this had changed.
Air-conditioned trains and buses provided modern
pilgrims with a pleasant and comfortable experience.
With the lack of sheer physical effort went some of theold beliefs. It was not necessarily a change of which
she disapproved; after all, she took the air-conditioned
buses herself, but her diaries record a clear sense ofregret at the passing of the old ways.
Each reader will have favourites among
the materials included. For me, Carmen’s diaries,
supplemented by autobiographical extracts from otherwritings, are the best part of the book. They take up
about a third of the whole and the extracts have been
largely limited to material related to Japan, including
her wartime experiences. This is understandable, but
it perhaps gives a somewhat distorted picture, for she
clearly had many other interests that went well beyond
Japan. Nevertheless, what we have gives a fascinating
picture of a very full life. There is much on two esotericsects with which she was involved. These were theTen-sho-kotai-jingu-kyu, or “Dancing Religion”, andthe Ryugu kazoku, both ran by formidable ladies, thefirst by Kitamura Sayo (1900-1967), and the second by
Furata (later Fujita) Himiko, the “Dragon Queen”, as wellas on more conventional religious groups. The diary isfull of casual encounters – meeting T. S. Eliot on a bus,
for example – and strange experiences, among themvisiting a clearly unexciting ‘sex museum’ in Shimoda
with Hugh Cortazzi. The diary section also includes a
selection of photographs; Carmen making friends witha cow was my favourite, while the last one, showing
her with Michael Loewe after she had received theOBE in 2004 is the most poignant.
The third part of the volume reproduces some ofher writings. For me, the most interesting were a seriesof pen pictures drawn form a variety of publications.
These included three pioneering scholars of Japan,
Chamberlain, Aston and Satow, Marie Stopes, Arthur
Waley, and Christmas Humphries, as well as two very
different Japanese, the eccentric scholar Minakata
Kumagusu and the writer and painter Yoshio Markino.
In deft phrases, she brings these very disparate figures
to life. They also show that if she had stuck to intellectual
history rather than religion, she would probably have
had an equally successful academic career.
Sir Hugh Cortazzi in his notes to the preface,remarks on her failure to become a professor. As hesays, she might well have done so when the Universityof Cambridge created a chair in 1984, but she preferred
to concentrate on her research and teaching, which
she preferred to the administrative tasks that thentended to fall to professors. Now she would probably
have been offered a personal chair but it was different
then. All the evidence is that she could have copedwith the administration; it was largely due to her efforts,
aided by Cortazzi, that Cambridge did not abandon
Japanese Studies altogether. That they now thrive
is a testimony both to her vision and abilities as an
academic infighter. She did not need the professorial
title. As this handsome tribute shows, her talents andabilities were clear.
[1]Carmen Blacker, “Two Piggotts: Sir Francis
Taylor Piggott (1852-1925) and Major General F. S. G.
Piggott (1883-1966)”, in Sir Hugh Cortazzi and Gordon
Daniels, eds., Britain and Japan 1859-1991: Themes andPersonalities. London: Routledge 1991, pp. 118-127.§Interested in writing for the Japan Society Review?

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