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Lonely Planet Journeys: Lost Japan
An enchanting and fascinating insight into Japanese landscape, culture, history and future.
Originally written in Japanese, this passionate, vividly personal book draws on the author's experiences in Japan over thirty years. Alex Kerr brings to life the ritualized world of Kabuki, retraces his initiation into Tokyo's boardrooms during the heady Bubble Years, and tells the story of the hidden valley that became his home.
But the book is not just a love letter. Haunted throughout by nostalgia for the Japan of old, Kerr's book is part paean to that great country and culture, part epitaph in the face of contemporary Japan's environmental and cultural destruction.
Winner of Japan's 1994 Shincho Gakugei Literature Prize.
Alex Kerr is an American writer, antiques collector and Japanologist. Lost Japan is his most famous work. He was the first foreigner to be awarded the Shincho Gakugei Literature Prize for the best work of non-fiction published in Japan.
Originally written in Japanese, this passionate, vividly personal book draws on the author's experiences in Japan over thirty years. Alex Kerr brings to life the ritualized world of Kabuki, retraces his initiation into Tokyo's boardrooms during the heady Bubble Years, and tells the story of the hidden valley that became his home.
But the book is not just a love letter. Haunted throughout by nostalgia for the Japan of old, Kerr's book is part paean to that great country and culture, part epitaph in the face of contemporary Japan's environmental and cultural destruction.
Winner of Japan's 1994 Shincho Gakugei Literature Prize.
Alex Kerr is an American writer, antiques collector and Japanologist. Lost Japan is his most famous work. He was the first foreigner to be awarded the Shincho Gakugei Literature Prize for the best work of non-fiction published in Japan.
269 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1993
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December 6, 2018
It’s a shame that readers looking to gain an insight into Japanese history by way of a good non-fiction book are likely to pick up this short title with the powerful market endorsement of its orange Penguin spine. Packaged as an insight into Japan’s sacred and artistic traditions by one of its foremost Anglophone experts, Alex Kerr, it’s actually a polemical diatribe against modern Japan and the disregard with which the country allegedly treats its own past. Kerr, a ‘Japanologist’, does impart titbits of historic knowledge sporadically throughout but not without then reaffirming that the Japan he speaks of is the old, lost, near-dead Japan, apparently abandoned by its own citizens. In fact, whilst this is title can often be found in the history section of bookshops, it reads more like the memoir of a disgruntled interior designer.
Kerr grows to love Japan early on in life and decides to spend the majority of his adult life there, preserving ancient buildings and furnishing them with his collection of traditional art. The Japan he loves is that of tea ceremonies, Kabuki theatre and beautiful wooden houses with calligraphy scrolls adorning the walls. Unfortunately for our author, Japan has moved on.
Now, I would be interested to read an even-handed critique of the modernisation of Japan, but this isn’t that. Kerr goes so overboard in railing against the concrete structures, overhead wires and fluorescent lighting of modern Japan (who are they to want lighting, electricity and earthquake-proof housing?!) that he says silly things like: “Japan has achieved a position as one of the world’s ugliest countries.” It isn’t. I was there last month, it was stunning.
He’s also inconsistent, reminiscing at one point of his earliest memory of Japan’s beauty: twinkling neon lights. I’m pretty sure they didn’t have those in the Edo period. However, it’s as we learn more about Kerr’s life that his more questionable attitudes towards Japan become apparent.
We are told that the author moves to Japan as an impoverished student but he manages to scrape together enough money to buy a sublime ancient house in a remote village. These old rural houses, abandoned by the Japanese for modern homes in the city, no doubt with unnecessary luxuries like running water, are like treasures to Kerr, last glimpses of life in old Japan. It’s strange then that (whilst still an impoverished student, remember) he then buys another ancient house and demolishes its roof to mend the thatch of the first.
The locals are incredibly helpful in the renovation of his home, seemingly without gain, yet Kerr’s retelling of this is tonally weird. He seems unsurprised that they would want to help him, indeed, in a way it is him that is helping them to reconnect with their culture. Kerr expects to be able to walk into a village, buy a house and have the community help him restore it. This sense of entitlement betrays an old-fashioned orientalism that colours the whole book. When Kerr professes his love for Japan he is actually only talking about certain cherry-picked aspects, when actually he seems to hold modern Japan as a whole in contempt.
Worse yet, it is revealed later in the book that Kerr spent ten years working for real estate entrepreneur Trammell Crow in Japan, so he was most likely profiting from the demolishing of old houses and raising of concrete tower blocks he elsewhere laments and admonishes!
Kerr doesn’t write for me, or I imagine, a lot of people who love Japanese culture. Indeed for recent generations, the neon metropolises of Tezuka, Otomo and Murakami (both Haruki and Ryu) are just as beloved the Zen gardens and Shinto shrines of old.
On my recent trip to Japan, I visited the town of Kamakura, home of some of the country’s most important Zen temples, as well as a huge bronze Buddha. Despite the pouring rain, the place was overrun with tourists (myself included). In an attempt to find some of the shrines hidden further afield, I wandered off up the mountainside that bordered the town, only to find myself lost in a glistening rainforest studded with wabi-imbued wooden houses. Despite being disorientated and soaked through, I loved this unexpected exploration. Kerr would have you believe this kind of experience doesn’t happen in Japan anymore, but he’s wrong.
What is the motive for writing such a book? The reader feels almost dissuaded from visiting and wreaking further havoc in the author’s precious Japan. Perversely though, the real villains of the piece are those that welcomed Kerr from the start, Japan’s “bland and obedient” citizens. He seems to resent them for, in his view, either letting their country go to the dogs, or worst yet wilfully destroying everything that was good about it.
The irony is that Kerr’s Japan is an orientalist fantasy. The real thing, in all its complexity, is far more exciting.
Kerr grows to love Japan early on in life and decides to spend the majority of his adult life there, preserving ancient buildings and furnishing them with his collection of traditional art. The Japan he loves is that of tea ceremonies, Kabuki theatre and beautiful wooden houses with calligraphy scrolls adorning the walls. Unfortunately for our author, Japan has moved on.
Now, I would be interested to read an even-handed critique of the modernisation of Japan, but this isn’t that. Kerr goes so overboard in railing against the concrete structures, overhead wires and fluorescent lighting of modern Japan (who are they to want lighting, electricity and earthquake-proof housing?!) that he says silly things like: “Japan has achieved a position as one of the world’s ugliest countries.” It isn’t. I was there last month, it was stunning.
He’s also inconsistent, reminiscing at one point of his earliest memory of Japan’s beauty: twinkling neon lights. I’m pretty sure they didn’t have those in the Edo period. However, it’s as we learn more about Kerr’s life that his more questionable attitudes towards Japan become apparent.
We are told that the author moves to Japan as an impoverished student but he manages to scrape together enough money to buy a sublime ancient house in a remote village. These old rural houses, abandoned by the Japanese for modern homes in the city, no doubt with unnecessary luxuries like running water, are like treasures to Kerr, last glimpses of life in old Japan. It’s strange then that (whilst still an impoverished student, remember) he then buys another ancient house and demolishes its roof to mend the thatch of the first.
The locals are incredibly helpful in the renovation of his home, seemingly without gain, yet Kerr’s retelling of this is tonally weird. He seems unsurprised that they would want to help him, indeed, in a way it is him that is helping them to reconnect with their culture. Kerr expects to be able to walk into a village, buy a house and have the community help him restore it. This sense of entitlement betrays an old-fashioned orientalism that colours the whole book. When Kerr professes his love for Japan he is actually only talking about certain cherry-picked aspects, when actually he seems to hold modern Japan as a whole in contempt.
Worse yet, it is revealed later in the book that Kerr spent ten years working for real estate entrepreneur Trammell Crow in Japan, so he was most likely profiting from the demolishing of old houses and raising of concrete tower blocks he elsewhere laments and admonishes!
Kerr doesn’t write for me, or I imagine, a lot of people who love Japanese culture. Indeed for recent generations, the neon metropolises of Tezuka, Otomo and Murakami (both Haruki and Ryu) are just as beloved the Zen gardens and Shinto shrines of old.
On my recent trip to Japan, I visited the town of Kamakura, home of some of the country’s most important Zen temples, as well as a huge bronze Buddha. Despite the pouring rain, the place was overrun with tourists (myself included). In an attempt to find some of the shrines hidden further afield, I wandered off up the mountainside that bordered the town, only to find myself lost in a glistening rainforest studded with wabi-imbued wooden houses. Despite being disorientated and soaked through, I loved this unexpected exploration. Kerr would have you believe this kind of experience doesn’t happen in Japan anymore, but he’s wrong.
What is the motive for writing such a book? The reader feels almost dissuaded from visiting and wreaking further havoc in the author’s precious Japan. Perversely though, the real villains of the piece are those that welcomed Kerr from the start, Japan’s “bland and obedient” citizens. He seems to resent them for, in his view, either letting their country go to the dogs, or worst yet wilfully destroying everything that was good about it.
The irony is that Kerr’s Japan is an orientalist fantasy. The real thing, in all its complexity, is far more exciting.
January 30, 2010
This is about as irritating as a book can get. Kerr majored in Japanese Studies at Yale. However, his handle on historical facts is almost non-existent, seemingly learned by watching movies, and reading 'Shogun'.
His observations are accurate, but his handle on historical facts is shaky at best, and his analysis is nearly psychotic in its disconnection from reality. An example: He talks about love for traditional ways in his dream house of Chiiori. 'Of course, getting electricity and running water and sewage' came first for his 'traditional house', blithely ignoring the fact that concrete is needed to run the power lines and poles, and lay the pipes of for the water and sewage. Apprently, he think that the infrastructure for public utilities magically appears before the houses of those who need it, rather than being a part of a necessarily invasive system. If you live in a house in Japan without sewage and without running water, you soon realize that there is nothing beautiful about the smell of feces.
This is not a book about Japan; this is a book about an American who suffers from yearning for the 'good old days' that never were, spreading that lie over a culture he simply does not understand. He does not understand the culture because he simply does not know the history. Everyone is sentimental about the past, and his mistakes that sentimentality expressed by older Japanese people for a thought that these Japanese people are powerless to stop change. He rides a Shinkansen to Kyoto, then drives his car an hour and a half to his house, only to complain about the fact that there are train tracks and roads everywhere. And he lives half the year in Thailand, flying on a plane to to get to Japan, landing in an airport whose construction he criticizes.
He needed a better copy editor to catch some of his blatant mistakes. But his factual errors, as many as they are, are actually the least worrisome part of the book. His analysis is just beyond redemption.
"The whole of Japan is a pure invention," said Oscar Wilde. This book is proof that even in the modern age this is true.
His observations are accurate, but his handle on historical facts is shaky at best, and his analysis is nearly psychotic in its disconnection from reality. An example: He talks about love for traditional ways in his dream house of Chiiori. 'Of course, getting electricity and running water and sewage' came first for his 'traditional house', blithely ignoring the fact that concrete is needed to run the power lines and poles, and lay the pipes of for the water and sewage. Apprently, he think that the infrastructure for public utilities magically appears before the houses of those who need it, rather than being a part of a necessarily invasive system. If you live in a house in Japan without sewage and without running water, you soon realize that there is nothing beautiful about the smell of feces.
This is not a book about Japan; this is a book about an American who suffers from yearning for the 'good old days' that never were, spreading that lie over a culture he simply does not understand. He does not understand the culture because he simply does not know the history. Everyone is sentimental about the past, and his mistakes that sentimentality expressed by older Japanese people for a thought that these Japanese people are powerless to stop change. He rides a Shinkansen to Kyoto, then drives his car an hour and a half to his house, only to complain about the fact that there are train tracks and roads everywhere. And he lives half the year in Thailand, flying on a plane to to get to Japan, landing in an airport whose construction he criticizes.
He needed a better copy editor to catch some of his blatant mistakes. But his factual errors, as many as they are, are actually the least worrisome part of the book. His analysis is just beyond redemption.
"The whole of Japan is a pure invention," said Oscar Wilde. This book is proof that even in the modern age this is true.
February 9, 2008
Alex Kerr is one of those writers you have to end up reading when you live here. There's this book and Dogs and Demons, which invariably tend to signal the end of the Japan Honeymoon for any long-time resident.
To explain - for a lot of people who come here, Kerr included, there's a kind of romantic idea of Japan that keeps people here. It's the Zen and the temples, the red torii gates, the yukata and the festivals. It's the Japanese Mind and the Far East attitude, so different from our own, that entrances us and keeps us here.
Then along comes the moment you realize that, as with so many things in this world, the romantic ideal doesn't match the reality. That's where Kerr comes in.
He's lived here for many years, and spent all of that time getting to know Japan and its culture, and like so many people who study Japan's culture, he mourns its demise. He longs for the simplicity of hidden valleys, of wabi tea bowls and the days when you could buy really good calligraphy cheaply at auctions. He has en entire chapter entitled, "Kyoto Hates Kyoto," about how the city, so desperate to be a Modern City, is tearing down everything that made it the cultural center of Japan. He sees Japan in a state of flux, and he's really worried that it'll go the wrong way.
This book is a series of essays about his life in Japan, the things he's seen that he doesn't see so often anymore. It's pessimistic, to say the least, though not quite so pessimistic as Dogs and Demons is. This kind of harsh eye has led to Kerr being labeled as a Japan-basher, which is a very odd thing to say about someone who's spent most of his life studying and living in Japan.
As he notes, though, there are certain fundamental forces in Japan that resist change, and not the least of those forces are the Romantics who refuse to admit that Japan, the land of philosophy, tea ceremony and Zen, is royally screwing itself up.
He is hopeful, though. He believes that this is another age of transition for Japan, and knows - or at least I think he knows - that no age, however glorious, can last forever. Many of the things he loves about this country will indeed be lost, in the fullness of time. All we can really hope for is that amazing things will arise to take their place.
To explain - for a lot of people who come here, Kerr included, there's a kind of romantic idea of Japan that keeps people here. It's the Zen and the temples, the red torii gates, the yukata and the festivals. It's the Japanese Mind and the Far East attitude, so different from our own, that entrances us and keeps us here.
Then along comes the moment you realize that, as with so many things in this world, the romantic ideal doesn't match the reality. That's where Kerr comes in.
He's lived here for many years, and spent all of that time getting to know Japan and its culture, and like so many people who study Japan's culture, he mourns its demise. He longs for the simplicity of hidden valleys, of wabi tea bowls and the days when you could buy really good calligraphy cheaply at auctions. He has en entire chapter entitled, "Kyoto Hates Kyoto," about how the city, so desperate to be a Modern City, is tearing down everything that made it the cultural center of Japan. He sees Japan in a state of flux, and he's really worried that it'll go the wrong way.
This book is a series of essays about his life in Japan, the things he's seen that he doesn't see so often anymore. It's pessimistic, to say the least, though not quite so pessimistic as Dogs and Demons is. This kind of harsh eye has led to Kerr being labeled as a Japan-basher, which is a very odd thing to say about someone who's spent most of his life studying and living in Japan.
As he notes, though, there are certain fundamental forces in Japan that resist change, and not the least of those forces are the Romantics who refuse to admit that Japan, the land of philosophy, tea ceremony and Zen, is royally screwing itself up.
He is hopeful, though. He believes that this is another age of transition for Japan, and knows - or at least I think he knows - that no age, however glorious, can last forever. Many of the things he loves about this country will indeed be lost, in the fullness of time. All we can really hope for is that amazing things will arise to take their place.
June 22, 2011
In preparation for a vacation to Japan, my mother gave me this one to read. Its main themes are about the loss of important Japanese cultural traditions and the uglification of both the body and the soul of Japan. The author is an art collector, calligrapher, Japanologist and long time resident of the country. Kerr decries modern Japan as filling with concrete, electricity poles, neon pachinko parlors and ugly rooflines while her inhabitants have become conformist, dull and unimaginative.
I found the book quite interesting in parts. His stories of finding and buying an old house in a secluded valley, of the inner workings of kabuki theatre, of unappreciated artworks and of the history of tea ceremony and zen are everything from fascinating to merely eye opening. Unfortunately Kerr does give a strong impression of being the kind of luddite who wishes for all old things to be preserved. By the end of the book, I had somewhat amended this initial impression. I think he does appreciate the need for change, even encouraging it. But he does not understand why there should be change for its own sake if the change only leads to worse things. As an ideal, there is of course nothing wrong with that. But in reality, things don’t really work that way. Change happens and decades or even centuries later people figure out what the actual causes and effects were.
One particularly annoying thing about this book is the constant name dropping. All the people described in the book seem to be maverick geniuses in their fields and Kerr is a close personal friend of every single one. It comes off as not a little pompous. Kerr has certainly led an interesting life, and it is through his life experiences that he can describe his “lost Japan” so deftly. However, this reader felt a bit put off by the tone.
I was also left wondering why, among all this horror at the disappearing culture of Japan, he does not spare even a moment for one of Japan’s most vibrant forms of modern literature, manga/anime cartoons. This art form is lauded the world over. One could even draw parallels to the kabuki described by Kerr, with its emphasis on single moments of resolution as opposed to the narrative continuitiy more emphasized in the west.
The episodic nature of the book works against it. It was originally a series of articles, and the disjointed nature of the whole is unfortunately quite glaring. All in all, the book gave me an eye opening view of Japanese culture through anectodes and strong opinions. I may not necessarily agree with the author, but I suppose that is as it should be. The text should serve as a brief and good introduction to Japanese culture through the eyes of a foreigner who has made it his own.
http://www.books.rosboch.net/?p=880
I found the book quite interesting in parts. His stories of finding and buying an old house in a secluded valley, of the inner workings of kabuki theatre, of unappreciated artworks and of the history of tea ceremony and zen are everything from fascinating to merely eye opening. Unfortunately Kerr does give a strong impression of being the kind of luddite who wishes for all old things to be preserved. By the end of the book, I had somewhat amended this initial impression. I think he does appreciate the need for change, even encouraging it. But he does not understand why there should be change for its own sake if the change only leads to worse things. As an ideal, there is of course nothing wrong with that. But in reality, things don’t really work that way. Change happens and decades or even centuries later people figure out what the actual causes and effects were.
One particularly annoying thing about this book is the constant name dropping. All the people described in the book seem to be maverick geniuses in their fields and Kerr is a close personal friend of every single one. It comes off as not a little pompous. Kerr has certainly led an interesting life, and it is through his life experiences that he can describe his “lost Japan” so deftly. However, this reader felt a bit put off by the tone.
I was also left wondering why, among all this horror at the disappearing culture of Japan, he does not spare even a moment for one of Japan’s most vibrant forms of modern literature, manga/anime cartoons. This art form is lauded the world over. One could even draw parallels to the kabuki described by Kerr, with its emphasis on single moments of resolution as opposed to the narrative continuitiy more emphasized in the west.
The episodic nature of the book works against it. It was originally a series of articles, and the disjointed nature of the whole is unfortunately quite glaring. All in all, the book gave me an eye opening view of Japanese culture through anectodes and strong opinions. I may not necessarily agree with the author, but I suppose that is as it should be. The text should serve as a brief and good introduction to Japanese culture through the eyes of a foreigner who has made it his own.
http://www.books.rosboch.net/?p=880
January 21, 2018
A good travel book should make you marvel at the world. It should restore your faith in the unknown. It should show you that adventure can be found any and every place. It should make you feel like a child again.
Lately, some of the most remarkable travel books I've read (Road to Purification, Arabian Sands, Seven Years in Japan) have also been meditations on the destructive effects of globalization and modernization on the unique and magical in the world. In these books, there is a lament against the homogenizing effects of chain restaurants, easy information technology, and the rest of globalization's ilk. For Alex, it's the monstrosities of telephone lines, concrete, mono-cropped cedars that are replacing the natural beauty of Japan. But what is remarkable in each is the way a persistent traveler can discover magic in even the most mundane or seemingly globalized of places.
In this series of essays, Alex Kerr takes us through his own personal journies in Japan. These essays mix the joy of buying and reclaiming old houses in villages that are slowly dying out with meditations on Kabuki, and tales of what it is like to be an art collector during the bubble period in Japan. In each of these chapters, one gets a sense of what it is like to live an adventurous life in a foreign land, but also, to live that life in a way that tries make Japan home.
Alex's writing on the Iya Valley is a standout for me, just because of how personal his bond is with the place and because of his concern for its vulnerability.
The language is simple, yet evocative. Smooth and easy to digest. The book was written in Japanese and then translated into English -- and yet, the English sentences are so smooth and beautiful. The narrative tends to start with a theme, wind around and around, and eventually return to that theme. Progress is never a direct didactic line; instead, it is something earned through pondering and travel.
This is the kind of book you can take with you in a backpack on a long walk and read over and over again.
Lately, some of the most remarkable travel books I've read (Road to Purification, Arabian Sands, Seven Years in Japan) have also been meditations on the destructive effects of globalization and modernization on the unique and magical in the world. In these books, there is a lament against the homogenizing effects of chain restaurants, easy information technology, and the rest of globalization's ilk. For Alex, it's the monstrosities of telephone lines, concrete, mono-cropped cedars that are replacing the natural beauty of Japan. But what is remarkable in each is the way a persistent traveler can discover magic in even the most mundane or seemingly globalized of places.
In this series of essays, Alex Kerr takes us through his own personal journies in Japan. These essays mix the joy of buying and reclaiming old houses in villages that are slowly dying out with meditations on Kabuki, and tales of what it is like to be an art collector during the bubble period in Japan. In each of these chapters, one gets a sense of what it is like to live an adventurous life in a foreign land, but also, to live that life in a way that tries make Japan home.
Alex's writing on the Iya Valley is a standout for me, just because of how personal his bond is with the place and because of his concern for its vulnerability.
The language is simple, yet evocative. Smooth and easy to digest. The book was written in Japanese and then translated into English -- and yet, the English sentences are so smooth and beautiful. The narrative tends to start with a theme, wind around and around, and eventually return to that theme. Progress is never a direct didactic line; instead, it is something earned through pondering and travel.
This is the kind of book you can take with you in a backpack on a long walk and read over and over again.
October 19, 2019
I've (temporarily) relegated this "insightful" memoir to my Abandoned shelf.
"Insightful"? Very much so! "Insightful" regarding Kerr's huge ego and narcissism!! There's not a shred, an iota of humility in this author that I found half way through reading this! Got as far as the chapter "Calligraphy". Turns out all the calligraphy throughout the book is Kerr's. Which is okay, but droning on and on about how he initially studied Chinese kanji (or whatever the Chinese call those characters) at 5 or ten years old, whatever, then switched to Japanese because his dad (high mucky muck in the military) and family were stationed in Japan during the '60s... Well, guess what! You're not the only one, bud! You stayed for TWO years, we lived there, exact same time frame for four! ~Sorry, getting carried away here, I'm so incensed!
Is this book actually about Japan or is it really about Kerr? I couldn't tell! Everything regarding Japan (so far as I read) is surface stuff. Yea, he mentions the history but it's all in context of him, people he knows, where he's been etc etc. Irritating!
Hey, Mr. Kerr~~~ There are reasons the Japanese don't seem interested in Noh or Kabuki. It's part and parcel of their heritage! It's part of who they actually are! Not to mention attending a play is cost prohibitive for most, requires travel since most plays are held in one area and also requires a lot of pre-planning. And think, WHY were you regulated to some upper balcony seat way out of view?? Because YOU would be a DISTRACTION! People aren't interested in seeing YOU! They're there for the play! Hello! ~~~And where is a mention of Sumo?? (Maybe he mentions it further on but we'll see... if and when I attempt a re-read.) To add: The fantabulous Tea Ceremony... Everyday locals just don't do it! The exact same reason they don't attend Noh or Kabuki. Way too much work, making arrangements, getting all dressed up, on and on. But they DO drink ocha every single day with every single meal. Sometimes even chilled in summer!
One thing after living in Japan I did notice: No thrift stores, no consignment shops, no second-hand stores. There's this thing about the Japanese: They are extremely superstitious. Anima mundi. They believe that everything, especially used, treasured items carries the previous owner's (or current owner's) spirit. They would much rather burn the items than sell them to strangers. This character Kerr and his tight bud David Kidd have not a problem going through ancestral homes' storage and on the assumption the stored items are "abandoned" (they are not!), taking what they want, essentially STEALING, and reselling for profit! Shame on you both!!! ~A side note: The Japanese will never ever steal (except Westernized politicians with money. Money to the Japanese is dirty, soiled, so it doesn't much matter). There's this saying by locals: Batchi Ataru 祟り (we would say in our dialect), If one steals there are consequences; you're literally cursing yourself. So people just don't do it! But these two YABANJIN 野蛮人 have not a problem ripping off the locals to benefit themselves! Disgusting!!
Something I did learn, though. The Japanese are willing to sell property and real estate to foreigners. This is very sad imo. The total landmass of Japan can fit within the state of California. There's not much land there to sell. And Kerr doesn't mention that he rents/leases the house Chiiori, again to profit himself. Ugh.
Okay, I'm done with my rant. Unless I think up something else. After I force myself to finish this book.
A Disclaimer: Me. I was raised Japanese since I was three by an Issei Mamahaha with family over there. Gichan (Granpa) had a house in the country we'd stay at as much as we could, summers, vacations, etc, helping out in the fields, doing the country festivals, tending the family graves during Obon, mochi making with the whole village, etc etc. We lived in the city, too, off base. All my friends were Japanese. It was GREAT! Wonderful memories being a kid in Japan. BUT! Mr. Kerr does not have any of that. What it's really like to be a kid living a normal life in Japan. ~His writings are surface, from an outsider's point of view and sadly, he'll never be privileged to live as a local, an insider in Japan (most, if not ALL foreigners won't, even if one marries in). I feel for him but, Hey! He's made a name for himself and profits by it!! So, good for him...
Okay. Done for now. Rant over. And out. じゃあまたね!!
"Insightful"? Very much so! "Insightful" regarding Kerr's huge ego and narcissism!! There's not a shred, an iota of humility in this author that I found half way through reading this! Got as far as the chapter "Calligraphy". Turns out all the calligraphy throughout the book is Kerr's. Which is okay, but droning on and on about how he initially studied Chinese kanji (or whatever the Chinese call those characters) at 5 or ten years old, whatever, then switched to Japanese because his dad (high mucky muck in the military) and family were stationed in Japan during the '60s... Well, guess what! You're not the only one, bud! You stayed for TWO years, we lived there, exact same time frame for four! ~Sorry, getting carried away here, I'm so incensed!
Is this book actually about Japan or is it really about Kerr? I couldn't tell! Everything regarding Japan (so far as I read) is surface stuff. Yea, he mentions the history but it's all in context of him, people he knows, where he's been etc etc. Irritating!
Hey, Mr. Kerr~~~ There are reasons the Japanese don't seem interested in Noh or Kabuki. It's part and parcel of their heritage! It's part of who they actually are! Not to mention attending a play is cost prohibitive for most, requires travel since most plays are held in one area and also requires a lot of pre-planning. And think, WHY were you regulated to some upper balcony seat way out of view?? Because YOU would be a DISTRACTION! People aren't interested in seeing YOU! They're there for the play! Hello! ~~~And where is a mention of Sumo?? (Maybe he mentions it further on but we'll see... if and when I attempt a re-read.) To add: The fantabulous Tea Ceremony... Everyday locals just don't do it! The exact same reason they don't attend Noh or Kabuki. Way too much work, making arrangements, getting all dressed up, on and on. But they DO drink ocha every single day with every single meal. Sometimes even chilled in summer!
One thing after living in Japan I did notice: No thrift stores, no consignment shops, no second-hand stores. There's this thing about the Japanese: They are extremely superstitious. Anima mundi. They believe that everything, especially used, treasured items carries the previous owner's (or current owner's) spirit. They would much rather burn the items than sell them to strangers. This character Kerr and his tight bud David Kidd have not a problem going through ancestral homes' storage and on the assumption the stored items are "abandoned" (they are not!), taking what they want, essentially STEALING, and reselling for profit! Shame on you both!!! ~A side note: The Japanese will never ever steal (except Westernized politicians with money. Money to the Japanese is dirty, soiled, so it doesn't much matter). There's this saying by locals: Batchi Ataru 祟り (we would say in our dialect), If one steals there are consequences; you're literally cursing yourself. So people just don't do it! But these two YABANJIN 野蛮人 have not a problem ripping off the locals to benefit themselves! Disgusting!!
Something I did learn, though. The Japanese are willing to sell property and real estate to foreigners. This is very sad imo. The total landmass of Japan can fit within the state of California. There's not much land there to sell. And Kerr doesn't mention that he rents/leases the house Chiiori, again to profit himself. Ugh.
Okay, I'm done with my rant. Unless I think up something else. After I force myself to finish this book.
A Disclaimer: Me. I was raised Japanese since I was three by an Issei Mamahaha with family over there. Gichan (Granpa) had a house in the country we'd stay at as much as we could, summers, vacations, etc, helping out in the fields, doing the country festivals, tending the family graves during Obon, mochi making with the whole village, etc etc. We lived in the city, too, off base. All my friends were Japanese. It was GREAT! Wonderful memories being a kid in Japan. BUT! Mr. Kerr does not have any of that. What it's really like to be a kid living a normal life in Japan. ~His writings are surface, from an outsider's point of view and sadly, he'll never be privileged to live as a local, an insider in Japan (most, if not ALL foreigners won't, even if one marries in). I feel for him but, Hey! He's made a name for himself and profits by it!! So, good for him...
Okay. Done for now. Rant over. And out. じゃあまたね!!
February 16, 2021
Yeah, no. This book is old and it shows. Actually no, wait, it was revised in 2015, so I take it back. Or maybe – since old is GOOD, according to the author – maybe even more of the démodé stuff got put in? It is so full of absolutely bizarre statements and plain colonialist, paternalistic attitudes towards those ungrateful Japanese bots who only care for pachinko and 101 ways to use concrete – who certainly don’t understand their cultural values and should not be trusted to run their own country without the highly refined Western overlords. I can’t even. He literally says that the Japanese had two revolutions, one brought by Admiral Perry in the middle of the 19th century, the other by the GQ after the Pacific War, but now they have to do it all themselves.
This author studied Japan and China at Yale, Harvard, Keio etc, lived in Japan for years, had access to lots of resources and mentors that a regular Japanologist can only dream of, and produced this… incongruous, whiney catalogue of generalizations? Only things and people he saw, possessed, or knew personally, have any value, case in point: his friendship with long-suffering Tamasaburō. Yeah, Tamasaburō is immensely popular, he has a huge fan base, he is (or was, I haven’t watched kabuki for some time) beautiful, but to state that “there was never an onnagata as beautiful as Tamasaburō” is ridiculous and frankly, offensive. Does he know what Yoshizawa Ayame or Iwai Hanshirō looked like? No, right? Then how about, let’s say, Onoe Kikugorō V or Sawamura Tanosuke – since there are photos left? Nah. He knows Tamasaburō, who is beautiful, and that’s the end of the matter.
The author’s understanding of kabuki, as presented in this book, is a bit suspicious. It doesn’t seem like he knows the repertoire all that well; the title of the play with the courtesan Michitose is not Iriya, Michitose’s lover is not a samurai anymore (his nickname “Naozamurai”, which is not mentioned in the book, is ironic). The synopsis of the main conflict of the play Kumagai Jinya is completely wrong – Kumagai is not sacrificing his own son for the son of his lord at all. He is supposed to present the head of Atsumori (House of Heike) to his lord Yoshitsune (House of Genji). Kumagai is protecting Atsumori, because he is the son of a lady who once had helped him and his wife. Sacrificing one’s child for the child of the lord is indeed a popular kabuki trope, but this scene is not the example of it. (Maybe is has been confused with the famous “Terakoya” scene from another play.) And the comparison of the country of Japan to the hideous revenant Kasane –
There is an anecdote in which the author misses a one-in-500-years occasion to show his clients a Buddhist statue which is normally unavailable for view. He says something like “oh, it must have been a punishment for the time when I worked for a Shintoist organization, the Buddhist deities must have been offended at me.” But he should know that in Japan Buddhism and local religions were coexisting for centuries. The concept of honchi suijaku 本地垂迹, according to which shinto gods were in fact manifestations of buddhas and bodhisattvas, was prevalent in Japan up to Meiji period. There was very little bad blood between local cults (which were gathered under the umbrella of Shintō relatively late) and Buddhism, and what there was, was mostly political. This involuntary projecting of Western religious attitudes onto a culture to which they are so very alien, betrays a perplexing lack of elementary knowledge and insight.
I couldn’t trust or take this book seriously after that, or even enjoy it. There were some nice descriptions of gardens, but not much more, and every time something interesting cropped up, it was undermined by the smug attitude of superiority rooted in money and privilege. Japan is treated like a theme park whose inhabitants should act their part, and if they intend to simply live their lives here and do with their culture whatever they want, since it, y’know, belongs to them – these rich tourists will clutch their pearls, whine and complain. They will definitely shut their eyes to anything more complicated and lively than sanitized and selective examples of “ancient Japanese traditions”. Look at how Osaka is described as basically un-Japanese. Dude, there is such a thing as a popular culture in Japan, and it is not new, and it is not a “relict of the influence of ancient South-East Asia” just because it’s "colorful", either.
The Polish edition is beautiful, I mean the pictures and the cover. The translation is really bad; strasznie mi przykro, ale przydałaby się konsultacja japonistyczna… “akuba”, femme fatale teatru kabuki, przetłumaczona jako “złośliwa mieszczka”? Postaci kobiece – np. dama Iwafuji albo Kasane – występują w tekście jako mężczyźni. Zdarza się, że samisen jest zapisany jako “sarnisen”… Ludzie kochani, postarajcie się. Macie drugą gwiazdkę na zachętę.
This author studied Japan and China at Yale, Harvard, Keio etc, lived in Japan for years, had access to lots of resources and mentors that a regular Japanologist can only dream of, and produced this… incongruous, whiney catalogue of generalizations? Only things and people he saw, possessed, or knew personally, have any value, case in point: his friendship with long-suffering Tamasaburō. Yeah, Tamasaburō is immensely popular, he has a huge fan base, he is (or was, I haven’t watched kabuki for some time) beautiful, but to state that “there was never an onnagata as beautiful as Tamasaburō” is ridiculous and frankly, offensive. Does he know what Yoshizawa Ayame or Iwai Hanshirō looked like? No, right? Then how about, let’s say, Onoe Kikugorō V or Sawamura Tanosuke – since there are photos left? Nah. He knows Tamasaburō, who is beautiful, and that’s the end of the matter.
The author’s understanding of kabuki, as presented in this book, is a bit suspicious. It doesn’t seem like he knows the repertoire all that well; the title of the play with the courtesan Michitose is not Iriya, Michitose’s lover is not a samurai anymore (his nickname “Naozamurai”, which is not mentioned in the book, is ironic). The synopsis of the main conflict of the play Kumagai Jinya is completely wrong – Kumagai is not sacrificing his own son for the son of his lord at all. He is supposed to present the head of Atsumori (House of Heike) to his lord Yoshitsune (House of Genji). Kumagai is protecting Atsumori, because he is the son of a lady who once had helped him and his wife. Sacrificing one’s child for the child of the lord is indeed a popular kabuki trope, but this scene is not the example of it. (Maybe is has been confused with the famous “Terakoya” scene from another play.) And the comparison of the country of Japan to the hideous revenant Kasane –
There is an anecdote in which the author misses a one-in-500-years occasion to show his clients a Buddhist statue which is normally unavailable for view. He says something like “oh, it must have been a punishment for the time when I worked for a Shintoist organization, the Buddhist deities must have been offended at me.” But he should know that in Japan Buddhism and local religions were coexisting for centuries. The concept of honchi suijaku 本地垂迹, according to which shinto gods were in fact manifestations of buddhas and bodhisattvas, was prevalent in Japan up to Meiji period. There was very little bad blood between local cults (which were gathered under the umbrella of Shintō relatively late) and Buddhism, and what there was, was mostly political. This involuntary projecting of Western religious attitudes onto a culture to which they are so very alien, betrays a perplexing lack of elementary knowledge and insight.
I couldn’t trust or take this book seriously after that, or even enjoy it. There were some nice descriptions of gardens, but not much more, and every time something interesting cropped up, it was undermined by the smug attitude of superiority rooted in money and privilege. Japan is treated like a theme park whose inhabitants should act their part, and if they intend to simply live their lives here and do with their culture whatever they want, since it, y’know, belongs to them – these rich tourists will clutch their pearls, whine and complain. They will definitely shut their eyes to anything more complicated and lively than sanitized and selective examples of “ancient Japanese traditions”. Look at how Osaka is described as basically un-Japanese. Dude, there is such a thing as a popular culture in Japan, and it is not new, and it is not a “relict of the influence of ancient South-East Asia” just because it’s "colorful", either.
The Polish edition is beautiful, I mean the pictures and the cover. The translation is really bad; strasznie mi przykro, ale przydałaby się konsultacja japonistyczna… “akuba”, femme fatale teatru kabuki, przetłumaczona jako “złośliwa mieszczka”? Postaci kobiece – np. dama Iwafuji albo Kasane – występują w tekście jako mężczyźni. Zdarza się, że samisen jest zapisany jako “sarnisen”… Ludzie kochani, postarajcie się. Macie drugą gwiazdkę na zachętę.
July 17, 2019
so according to this book japanese people are such dummies that they don't understand their own economy, their own culture or even how to light their houses. good job this one american guy is here to show them how!
incredible generalisations, pig headed orientalism, plus the author decrys the uglification of japan with concrete and wires while letting us know he definitely put a toilet in his japanese house (which he sees as saving traditional architecture even though he admits he torn down the roof of another house to 'restore' it)
plus he refers to okonomiyaki as do-it-yourself pizza (!!!)
incredible generalisations, pig headed orientalism, plus the author decrys the uglification of japan with concrete and wires while letting us know he definitely put a toilet in his japanese house (which he sees as saving traditional architecture even though he admits he torn down the roof of another house to 'restore' it)
plus he refers to okonomiyaki as do-it-yourself pizza (!!!)
May 17, 2019
Przyjemny zbiór zasługujący na 4,5 gwiazdki. Raczej nie dla osób, które chcą w Japonii widzieć romantyczny kraj samurajów, popełniających seppuku na jedno skinienie ich pana. Albo ulotny świat gejsz, herbaciarni, świątyń shinto i buddyzmu czy pełnych pokory perfekcjonistów. Ani też dla osób, które wyobrażają sobie Japonię jako odległą ojczyznę Pana Miyagiego z Karate Kid.
Zbiór tych esejów jest pewnie już dość mocno zdezaktualizowany, ale z drugiej strony jest też istotnym ogniwem, łączącym "Japonię dawniej" z "Japonią teraz" i pozwala lepiej zrozumieć przemiany jakie zaszły w tym społeczeństwie. Bo w gruncie rzeczy Japonii, którą widujemy w filmach Kurosawy czy w Wyznaniach Gejszy już dawno nie ma, a jej relikty ukrywają się pod powierzchnią z betonu, szkła, aluminium i plastiku.
Japończycy, ogólnie jako społeczeństwo niewiele interesują się swoją przeszłością i kultywują tylko nieliczne z tradycyjnych sztuk, ale czy nie dzieje się tak w wielu krajach w Europie? No właśnie. Sądzę, że jest to jeden z powodów sympatii Polaków do Kraju Kwitnącej Wiśni, chociaż pewnie taki, z którego nie zdajemy sobie sprawy.
My też, podobnie jak Japończycy, kultywujemy tylko niektóre z naszych "narodowych" cech i sztuk, w między czasie rozpaczliwie starając się nadążyć za Zachodem i wpasować w trendy. Podobnie jak Japończycy zamiast dbać o przyrodnicze dziedzictwo kraju zakładamy leśne plantacje, a w miastach próbujemy wyrugować zieleń i ograniczyć ją do minimum.
Z drugiej strony, w wielu narzekaniach autora na "zanik tradycyjnej Japonii" uśmiechałam się kącikiem ust, bo to trochę tak, jakby narzekać na to, że ludzie na polskiej wsi nie mieszkają już w drewnianych chatach krytych strzechą i nie orzą pól tak jak dawniej. Autor najwyraźniej nie zna pojęcia "mono no aware", a sądzę, że bardzo by mu się przydało. To pojęcie ciągle żyje i ma się dobrze w Kraju Kwitnącej Wiśni, zarówno w literaturze, filmie i w anime, ale też w codziennym życiu. Japończycy doskonale wiedzą, że nic nie trwa wiecznie i wszystko przemija - nie ważne, jak bardzo chcielibyśmy zachować przy życiu urokliwe wąskie uliczki z domkami krytymi dachówką, szkoły kabuki, gejsz, ikebany, drzeworyty, kaligrafię czy dojo, w których naucza się judo czy karate. Wszystko się zmienia, idzie "z duchem czasu" lub zostaje zapomniane. Ludzie w Polsce wieku Kerra i starsi z rozrzewnieniem wspominają muzykę dawnych lat, ceramikę z Włocławka czy Ćmielowa, kolekcjonują stare szalkowe wagi czy szable albo kieliszki czy wazony z kryształu. To normalne. Przeszłość zawsze wygląda piękniej kiedy patrzy się na nią z perspektywy czasu. Ale wszystko przemija i się zmienia.
W czasie, kiedy powstawał ten zbiór esejów anime w Japonii dopiero raczkowało, a zainteresowanie autora sztukami walk jest raczej niewielkie, nie znajdziemy tam więc słowa o pierwszym, a tylko nieliczne o drugim. Kerr skupia się głównie na parawanach, ceremoniach herbaty, kabuki, kaligrafii i architekturze. Sztuce bardziej wysokiej niż niższej. Nie wspomina o mandze. Kilka razy przewija się w jego esejach kimono, ale bardziej jako ubolewanie, że coraz mniej Japończyków wykorzystuje ten ubiór na co dzień. Autor najwyraźniej nigdy nie miał na sobie żadnego kimona i nie wie, jak może być ono niewygodne.
Dużo przyjemności sprawiły mi natomiast fragmenty, gdzie Kerr opisuje przygody z pokrywaniem dachu strzechą, odnawianie domu w Tenmangu i spędzanie w nim czasu. Chwile, gdy jakieś zapomniane dzieło sztuki odzyskiwało swój dawny blask i historię. To było ciekawe. Dobrze czytało się kawałki o świątyniach buddyzmu i chramach shinto. I o przepełniającej te miejsca obecności bóstw i duchów. Opisy kabuki też były fascynujące, chociaż w pełni można docenić je dopiero gdy chociaż raz oglądało się wymienione w eseju przedstawienia.
Nie można odmówić Kerrowi pewnego zmysłu literackiego. Jego eseje jednak są dla mnie wypełnione smutkiem człowieka, który pragnął zachować Japonię z okresu Heian czy Muromachi, sprawić, by była ciągle żywa i niezmieniona. Owszem, jej elementy ciągle żyją, ale nie będą trwać wiecznie i chyba z tym autor nie umie się pogodzić. Zobaczył zachód słońca i ubolewa nad tym, że nie trwa on wiecznie. A przecież właśnie w tej przemijalności tkwi piękno wszystkich wspomnianych przez Kerra sztuk. I kto wie... w końcu przecież i kryształowe wazony i kieliszki wracają w Polsce do łask, a w Japonii na pewno niejedna Sztuka przeżyje swój renesans w nieco odnowionej formie. Słońce znów wzejdzie, ale dzień, który wtedy nastanie nie będzie taki sam jak poprzedni. I to jest piękne.
Zbiór tych esejów jest pewnie już dość mocno zdezaktualizowany, ale z drugiej strony jest też istotnym ogniwem, łączącym "Japonię dawniej" z "Japonią teraz" i pozwala lepiej zrozumieć przemiany jakie zaszły w tym społeczeństwie. Bo w gruncie rzeczy Japonii, którą widujemy w filmach Kurosawy czy w Wyznaniach Gejszy już dawno nie ma, a jej relikty ukrywają się pod powierzchnią z betonu, szkła, aluminium i plastiku.
Japończycy, ogólnie jako społeczeństwo niewiele interesują się swoją przeszłością i kultywują tylko nieliczne z tradycyjnych sztuk, ale czy nie dzieje się tak w wielu krajach w Europie? No właśnie. Sądzę, że jest to jeden z powodów sympatii Polaków do Kraju Kwitnącej Wiśni, chociaż pewnie taki, z którego nie zdajemy sobie sprawy.
My też, podobnie jak Japończycy, kultywujemy tylko niektóre z naszych "narodowych" cech i sztuk, w między czasie rozpaczliwie starając się nadążyć za Zachodem i wpasować w trendy. Podobnie jak Japończycy zamiast dbać o przyrodnicze dziedzictwo kraju zakładamy leśne plantacje, a w miastach próbujemy wyrugować zieleń i ograniczyć ją do minimum.
Z drugiej strony, w wielu narzekaniach autora na "zanik tradycyjnej Japonii" uśmiechałam się kącikiem ust, bo to trochę tak, jakby narzekać na to, że ludzie na polskiej wsi nie mieszkają już w drewnianych chatach krytych strzechą i nie orzą pól tak jak dawniej. Autor najwyraźniej nie zna pojęcia "mono no aware", a sądzę, że bardzo by mu się przydało. To pojęcie ciągle żyje i ma się dobrze w Kraju Kwitnącej Wiśni, zarówno w literaturze, filmie i w anime, ale też w codziennym życiu. Japończycy doskonale wiedzą, że nic nie trwa wiecznie i wszystko przemija - nie ważne, jak bardzo chcielibyśmy zachować przy życiu urokliwe wąskie uliczki z domkami krytymi dachówką, szkoły kabuki, gejsz, ikebany, drzeworyty, kaligrafię czy dojo, w których naucza się judo czy karate. Wszystko się zmienia, idzie "z duchem czasu" lub zostaje zapomniane. Ludzie w Polsce wieku Kerra i starsi z rozrzewnieniem wspominają muzykę dawnych lat, ceramikę z Włocławka czy Ćmielowa, kolekcjonują stare szalkowe wagi czy szable albo kieliszki czy wazony z kryształu. To normalne. Przeszłość zawsze wygląda piękniej kiedy patrzy się na nią z perspektywy czasu. Ale wszystko przemija i się zmienia.
W czasie, kiedy powstawał ten zbiór esejów anime w Japonii dopiero raczkowało, a zainteresowanie autora sztukami walk jest raczej niewielkie, nie znajdziemy tam więc słowa o pierwszym, a tylko nieliczne o drugim. Kerr skupia się głównie na parawanach, ceremoniach herbaty, kabuki, kaligrafii i architekturze. Sztuce bardziej wysokiej niż niższej. Nie wspomina o mandze. Kilka razy przewija się w jego esejach kimono, ale bardziej jako ubolewanie, że coraz mniej Japończyków wykorzystuje ten ubiór na co dzień. Autor najwyraźniej nigdy nie miał na sobie żadnego kimona i nie wie, jak może być ono niewygodne.
Dużo przyjemności sprawiły mi natomiast fragmenty, gdzie Kerr opisuje przygody z pokrywaniem dachu strzechą, odnawianie domu w Tenmangu i spędzanie w nim czasu. Chwile, gdy jakieś zapomniane dzieło sztuki odzyskiwało swój dawny blask i historię. To było ciekawe. Dobrze czytało się kawałki o świątyniach buddyzmu i chramach shinto. I o przepełniającej te miejsca obecności bóstw i duchów. Opisy kabuki też były fascynujące, chociaż w pełni można docenić je dopiero gdy chociaż raz oglądało się wymienione w eseju przedstawienia.
Nie można odmówić Kerrowi pewnego zmysłu literackiego. Jego eseje jednak są dla mnie wypełnione smutkiem człowieka, który pragnął zachować Japonię z okresu Heian czy Muromachi, sprawić, by była ciągle żywa i niezmieniona. Owszem, jej elementy ciągle żyją, ale nie będą trwać wiecznie i chyba z tym autor nie umie się pogodzić. Zobaczył zachód słońca i ubolewa nad tym, że nie trwa on wiecznie. A przecież właśnie w tej przemijalności tkwi piękno wszystkich wspomnianych przez Kerra sztuk. I kto wie... w końcu przecież i kryształowe wazony i kieliszki wracają w Polsce do łask, a w Japonii na pewno niejedna Sztuka przeżyje swój renesans w nieco odnowionej formie. Słońce znów wzejdzie, ale dzień, który wtedy nastanie nie będzie taki sam jak poprzedni. I to jest piękne.
December 15, 2015
I have been involved in teaching Asian studies in high school for almost 10 years, and this has to be the best book on Japan I have ever read. It is very accessible to westerners because it is written by an American who has spent most of his adult life living in Japan and Asia. Kerr is an admitted Japanophile, a guy who has been fascinated with the country since he was a boy. However, what is extraordinary about this book is that even though he loves Japan and has bought two old houses in Japan and renovated them, he very pointedly tells his readers what is wrong with the country. Many admirers of Japan can only talk about its admirable qualities: the orderliness, the technology, the booming economy. Kerr, however, sees something terribly wrong with the country. He loves it so much he is not afraid to criticize it.
Japan may be orderly and efficient, but the culture is so driven to be modern that it ignores its own culture and history. Kerr has made a good living being an Asian art dealer because most people in Japan have no interest in their own cultural artifacts. He was able to buy items very cheaply and sell them to westerners at a great profit. Kerr also notes that Japanese society is so intent on order and efficiency that they ironically forget about both innovation and preservation.
This book is almost a love poem to the things that Kerr loves about Japan and the sadness he has about watching them disappear because the Japanese people are focused on other things.
I highly recommend this book to anyone who wants to learn about Japan or get a different perspective on this fascinating culture.
Japan may be orderly and efficient, but the culture is so driven to be modern that it ignores its own culture and history. Kerr has made a good living being an Asian art dealer because most people in Japan have no interest in their own cultural artifacts. He was able to buy items very cheaply and sell them to westerners at a great profit. Kerr also notes that Japanese society is so intent on order and efficiency that they ironically forget about both innovation and preservation.
This book is almost a love poem to the things that Kerr loves about Japan and the sadness he has about watching them disappear because the Japanese people are focused on other things.
I highly recommend this book to anyone who wants to learn about Japan or get a different perspective on this fascinating culture.
May 8, 2023
A fascinating look on Japan as a country and culture, as seen by an American who has spent most of his life there and examined through a variety of essays that were informative and enjoyable.
Lost Japan was first published in the 90s and looks back on thirty years the Japanologist Alex Kerr has spent in the country. Through a series of unrelated chapters he examines his growing love for the culture, draws comparisons to other Asian countries and shares his knowledge on things like Kabuki and calligraphy.
As someone personally interested in Japan, it's just great hearing of it from times before I was born. I only know the Japan of the 21st century, an industrialised place with tourism and business deeply rooted within it. It's a beautiful place for sure, but Kerr has known it before all these things became so important to the country's growth. His depictions of how the landscape and natural areas have changed over time were particularly thought-provoking.
Everything needs to be taken with a grain of salt though, because not all his facts are correct. There are just a couple of things I know he didn't get right – he names Japan as the only industrialised county that has placed its power poles clumsily out on the open. He suggests that this proves how quickly cities like Tokyo have started to grow and how there wasn't a masterplan for it in terms of construction, but power lines aren't buried underground just for financial reasons, but for practical as well – Japan has huge troubles with earth quakes, after all. There were several moments where Kerr seemed to just assume things and I didn't mind much, since this is a personal collection of essays, but it's probably good to be aware that this isn't a classical history textbook.
His examination of Japanese life and culture were filled with interesting thoughts. I enjoyed the comparisons he draws between Japan and China for example, calling the former "a sort of cultural pressure cooker into which many ingredients went, but from which none came out". It's a curious relationship Japan has with its other South Asian neighbour after all, being influenced by and sharing a history with them, while also clearly being its own things – both culturally, as well as geographically. Speaking of which, I also liked Kerr's pondering on the Japanese way of things; as an American, he must have experienced wildly different mannerisms in Japan.
This book is starting to show its age, feeling outdated on some accounts. Kerr's generally negative attitude towards changes in the country surprised me, as I was expecting more of a love story. He's definitely more on the critical side of things, if not even pessimistic. Readers should keep in mind that this is the account of an outsider's experience of a country and we're really seeing Japan through his lens here – it's by no means a substitute for a history lesson.
Lost Japan was first published in the 90s and looks back on thirty years the Japanologist Alex Kerr has spent in the country. Through a series of unrelated chapters he examines his growing love for the culture, draws comparisons to other Asian countries and shares his knowledge on things like Kabuki and calligraphy.
As someone personally interested in Japan, it's just great hearing of it from times before I was born. I only know the Japan of the 21st century, an industrialised place with tourism and business deeply rooted within it. It's a beautiful place for sure, but Kerr has known it before all these things became so important to the country's growth. His depictions of how the landscape and natural areas have changed over time were particularly thought-provoking.
"In the West, modernisation, while drastic, did not wipe away every single reminder of what life once was. But in Japan, cities and countryside alike have been bulldozed. Even the trees and rice paddies painted on backdrops are fast vanishing from day-to-day surroundings."
Everything needs to be taken with a grain of salt though, because not all his facts are correct. There are just a couple of things I know he didn't get right – he names Japan as the only industrialised county that has placed its power poles clumsily out on the open. He suggests that this proves how quickly cities like Tokyo have started to grow and how there wasn't a masterplan for it in terms of construction, but power lines aren't buried underground just for financial reasons, but for practical as well – Japan has huge troubles with earth quakes, after all. There were several moments where Kerr seemed to just assume things and I didn't mind much, since this is a personal collection of essays, but it's probably good to be aware that this isn't a classical history textbook.
His examination of Japanese life and culture were filled with interesting thoughts. I enjoyed the comparisons he draws between Japan and China for example, calling the former "a sort of cultural pressure cooker into which many ingredients went, but from which none came out". It's a curious relationship Japan has with its other South Asian neighbour after all, being influenced by and sharing a history with them, while also clearly being its own things – both culturally, as well as geographically. Speaking of which, I also liked Kerr's pondering on the Japanese way of things; as an American, he must have experienced wildly different mannerisms in Japan.
"Japan, with its social patterns designed to cocoon everyone and everything from harsh reality, is a much more comfortable country to live in. Well-established rhythms and politeness shield you from most unpleasantness. Japan can be a kind of 'lotus land', where one floats blissfully away on the placid surface of things."
This book is starting to show its age, feeling outdated on some accounts. Kerr's generally negative attitude towards changes in the country surprised me, as I was expecting more of a love story. He's definitely more on the critical side of things, if not even pessimistic. Readers should keep in mind that this is the account of an outsider's experience of a country and we're really seeing Japan through his lens here – it's by no means a substitute for a history lesson.
August 13, 2021
Review to follow
March 13, 2018
Resulta sorprendente la sensibilidad, tan nipona a veces, de las que hace gala Alex Kerr a lo largo de los diferentes textos que componen este libro, la cual nos otorga una visión, bastante alejada de los tópicos comunes, de alguien que demuestra, en cada una de sus acciones y palabras, estar total y completamente enamorado del País del Sol Naciente.
Pero, y he aquí lo interesante del libro, al contrario de lo que sucede ahora, donde hordas de enamorados de Japón se fijan única y exclusivamente en la fachada tecno-lúdica que este país muestra al mundo, Kerr fija su mirada (siempre en base a sus vivencias personales) en ese Japón ya casi desaparecido, rural, tranquilo, no presa de la uniformidad rampante que asola hoy día al país; en definitiva, ese "Japón perdido" que da título al compendio de mini-ensayos que nos ocupa.
Libro, no quiero decir imprescindible, pero si muy recomendable para todos aquellos que, como yo, sientan auténtica pasión por el país nipón, más allá del manga, el anime y los lugares comunes en los que se suelen mover los aficionados a "lo japonés" estos días.
Pero, y he aquí lo interesante del libro, al contrario de lo que sucede ahora, donde hordas de enamorados de Japón se fijan única y exclusivamente en la fachada tecno-lúdica que este país muestra al mundo, Kerr fija su mirada (siempre en base a sus vivencias personales) en ese Japón ya casi desaparecido, rural, tranquilo, no presa de la uniformidad rampante que asola hoy día al país; en definitiva, ese "Japón perdido" que da título al compendio de mini-ensayos que nos ocupa.
Libro, no quiero decir imprescindible, pero si muy recomendable para todos aquellos que, como yo, sientan auténtica pasión por el país nipón, más allá del manga, el anime y los lugares comunes en los que se suelen mover los aficionados a "lo japonés" estos días.
October 22, 2019
The topics covered by this book are very interesting but it’s all marred by the fact that the author comes across as an insufferable person who’s clearly very fond of himself.
September 17, 2022
Lektura tej książki była niesamowitą przygodą, a obraz Japonii, który się pojawił w jej trakcie, zapiera dech w piersiach. Kerr przekazuje swoje długoletnie doświadczenia z życia w Japonii i obcowania z jej kulturą, opisując między innymi historię kupna ponad 300-letniego domu w odległej dolinie, poznania wielu interesujących postaci ze świata kultury, a nawet pracę w amerykańskiej korporacji (podejmującą współpracę z Japończykami), gdzie uczył się podstaw ekonomii. Ilość odniesień powala - co chwilę musiałem przerywać lekturę, by poszukać w internecie, jak wyglądają te wszystkie miejsca i obiekty, dowiedzieć się więcej o opisywanych tam osobach.
Autor miał dużo szczęścia, gdyż doświadczał tego wszystkiego w bardzo specyficznym momencie dla samej Japonii - dużych powojennych zmian kulturowych, które z upływem czasu tylko nabierały rozpędu. Z tego też powodu obok pasjonujących opowieści o sztuce kabuki, ikebanie czy świątynnej architekturze, znalazło się także sporo gorzkich słów na temat niszczenia krajobrazu przez chaotycznie stawiane linie wysokiego napięcia i systematyczne wycinki tysiącletnich lasów, kompletnym braku planowania przestrzennego miast, czy też westernizowania się japońskiego społeczeństwa. Nie oznacza to jednak, że Kerr uważa, iż Japonia nie jest miejscem wartym odwiedzenia, a jej dziedzictwo kulturowe już stracone. Autor wyraźnie podkreśla, że japońska kultura intensywnie reaguje na wszelkie zewnętrzne nowinki i wytwarza własne rozwiązania, co też jest zgodne z jej wielowiekową tradycją.
Książka Alexa Kerra jest bardzo przyjemna w odbiorze, styl niezbyt trudny, ale też nie jest infantylny. Zdecydowanie polecam wszystkim zainteresowanym kulturą japońską i tym, którzy kiedyś chcieliby ten kraj odwiedzić.
Autor miał dużo szczęścia, gdyż doświadczał tego wszystkiego w bardzo specyficznym momencie dla samej Japonii - dużych powojennych zmian kulturowych, które z upływem czasu tylko nabierały rozpędu. Z tego też powodu obok pasjonujących opowieści o sztuce kabuki, ikebanie czy świątynnej architekturze, znalazło się także sporo gorzkich słów na temat niszczenia krajobrazu przez chaotycznie stawiane linie wysokiego napięcia i systematyczne wycinki tysiącletnich lasów, kompletnym braku planowania przestrzennego miast, czy też westernizowania się japońskiego społeczeństwa. Nie oznacza to jednak, że Kerr uważa, iż Japonia nie jest miejscem wartym odwiedzenia, a jej dziedzictwo kulturowe już stracone. Autor wyraźnie podkreśla, że japońska kultura intensywnie reaguje na wszelkie zewnętrzne nowinki i wytwarza własne rozwiązania, co też jest zgodne z jej wielowiekową tradycją.
Książka Alexa Kerra jest bardzo przyjemna w odbiorze, styl niezbyt trudny, ale też nie jest infantylny. Zdecydowanie polecam wszystkim zainteresowanym kulturą japońską i tym, którzy kiedyś chcieliby ten kraj odwiedzić.
January 12, 2021
An outdated, snobbish, self-absorbed old man's trip to his memories of Japan that HE lost. Very egocentric, arrogant and full of generalisation non-fiction piece that tells you almost nothing interesting about the country - instead, you can find out how the author has built his house in Iya, how many antiques he has and how many people he knows. Hell, one of his professors even talks to dalajlama himself and one of his friends received some letters from Virgina Woolf herself! You'll also find out that Japanese people don't think about stuff like human rights or consumer's rights because, surprise suprise, they only think about tea brewing ceremony or their work routine. And that chapter about Trammell Crow? I would like to forget that.
February 16, 2017
Although the Japanese history woven throughout the book is interesting, the manner of delivery is sub-par and whiny. Kerr boasts about his accomplishments while living in Japan rather than telling the readers about his cultural experiences. It feels more like a promotion of himself rather than the changes that have taken place in Japan throughout the past few decades.
July 5, 2024
Autorowi zarzuca się, że jego książka jest zbyt sentymentalna, ale to się świetnie składa, bo ja też jestem sentymentalna, także zero zgrzytów na tym tle.
Mnie się bardzo podobało, ale japoniofilom już nie za bardzo, także ostrożnie z tą pozycją.
Mnie się bardzo podobało, ale japoniofilom już nie za bardzo, także ostrożnie z tą pozycją.
June 4, 2024
obrzydliwy dziadersko-orientalizujący wyrzyg
Kerr w jednym rozdziale: LUDZIE, NIE MA JUZ NATURY W JAPONII, TYLKO BETON BETON, SWIATLA, SLUPY Z KABLAMI JAK BRZYDKO
Kerr w kolejnym rozdziale: oczywiscie, ze pierwszymi udogodnieniami w moim wiejskim domu na odludziu byly scieki i elektrycznosc :3
Kerr w jednym rozdziale: JAPONCZYNY W OGOLE SIE NIE INETERSUJA WLASNA SZTUKA I KULTURA, WSZYSTKO WYPRZEDAJA I NIE ZNAJA WARTOSCI
Kerr w kolejnym rozdziale: i wtedy zaczalem pracowac dla amerykanskiego giganta nieruchomosciami i wywozilem dla niego sztuke z Japonii :3
dawno nie bylem swiadkiem takiego dziadocenu, wszystko zle, wszystko nowe brzydkie, kiedys to byly czasy, teraz nie ma czasow, przyjechal wielki pan z Zachodu i teraz bedzie ocenial co jest zdegenerowane w Japonii, dlaczego Japonczycy sa zagubieni, ktore miasta toczy choroba, dajcie spokoj
Kerr w jednym rozdziale: LUDZIE, NIE MA JUZ NATURY W JAPONII, TYLKO BETON BETON, SWIATLA, SLUPY Z KABLAMI JAK BRZYDKO
Kerr w kolejnym rozdziale: oczywiscie, ze pierwszymi udogodnieniami w moim wiejskim domu na odludziu byly scieki i elektrycznosc :3
Kerr w jednym rozdziale: JAPONCZYNY W OGOLE SIE NIE INETERSUJA WLASNA SZTUKA I KULTURA, WSZYSTKO WYPRZEDAJA I NIE ZNAJA WARTOSCI
Kerr w kolejnym rozdziale: i wtedy zaczalem pracowac dla amerykanskiego giganta nieruchomosciami i wywozilem dla niego sztuke z Japonii :3
dawno nie bylem swiadkiem takiego dziadocenu, wszystko zle, wszystko nowe brzydkie, kiedys to byly czasy, teraz nie ma czasow, przyjechal wielki pan z Zachodu i teraz bedzie ocenial co jest zdegenerowane w Japonii, dlaczego Japonczycy sa zagubieni, ktore miasta toczy choroba, dajcie spokoj
October 7, 2022
I still don't know whether it is three stars or four - I actually enjoyed his Kyoto book more - but I got two copies of this book after I finished, for the literati essay alone.
June 20, 2022
Bardzo zajmująca pozycja, jednakże widzę, iż niektórych może znudzić i zrazić do siebie. Raczej dla pasjonatów, niż ogółu.
May 20, 2023
4 i 1/2 *
Trochę nostalgiczny, ale też surowy w ocenie opis przemian zachodzących w Japonii na przełomie XX i XXI wieku. Po części autobiograficzny, ale z ciekawymi wtrętami filozoficzno-estetycznymi.
Trochę nostalgiczny, ale też surowy w ocenie opis przemian zachodzących w Japonii na przełomie XX i XXI wieku. Po części autobiograficzny, ale z ciekawymi wtrętami filozoficzno-estetycznymi.
February 21, 2019
This book was painfully boring to read. While I learned a little about Japan, I couldn't help feeling like the book was more of an homage to Kerr than it was to "lost Japan." The whole text had an air of "I'm not like OTHER people, I LOVE nature!... as if appreciation of beauty and nature isn't a trait shared by many people. I couldn't shake the feeling that Kerr thinks he's some kind of innovative genius, when in reality he's just a foreigner who happened to be in the right place at the right time.
I can't read Japanese, so I can't compare the English version of this book to the Japanese one, but I wonder if further target-language adaptation could have been done to make it a friendlier to non-Japanese audiences. I found the descriptions lacking, but they would have been appropriate to the original audience (who likely would already be familiar with the places/things being described). I also wonder if my annoyance at Kerr's attitude is the result of us having grown up with similar values - maybe he really was innovative in Japan, but to another North American, his ideas are run of the mill.
As a final thought - the book was originally published in 1993 and doesn't appear to have been updated much in the latest version. Kerr mentions several locations that weren't frequented by tourists then, but they most certainly are now. I imagine a lot of other (non-historical) information in the book is outdated as well.
I can't read Japanese, so I can't compare the English version of this book to the Japanese one, but I wonder if further target-language adaptation could have been done to make it a friendlier to non-Japanese audiences. I found the descriptions lacking, but they would have been appropriate to the original audience (who likely would already be familiar with the places/things being described). I also wonder if my annoyance at Kerr's attitude is the result of us having grown up with similar values - maybe he really was innovative in Japan, but to another North American, his ideas are run of the mill.
As a final thought - the book was originally published in 1993 and doesn't appear to have been updated much in the latest version. Kerr mentions several locations that weren't frequented by tourists then, but they most certainly are now. I imagine a lot of other (non-historical) information in the book is outdated as well.
March 23, 2019
"Japan" lost is worth your time, even though it has some issues. Alex Kerr is a bit too sentimental and picky but he comes from a place of love for a disappearing culture (or his vision of it). However, if you will not treat this book as a comprehensive picture of the society, it can become a passion filled presentation of selected parts of Japan and its culture. And the Polish edition is great!
September 10, 2020
Ooh, can anyone hear what else Kerr's got to say from all the way up there on his high horse? No? Me either. I have a big problem with this account of "lost" Japanese culture through the white gaze. It's like a memoir of Kerr's 'good deeds' to preserve Japan's fine, ancient arts and architecture because the Japanese, apparently, are all oblivious to their country's treasures and are too busy turning their beautiful nature into Mordor. I'd be more open to hear out his dramatic criticism of East Asian modernity if he'd at least acknowledge some of the perks of modern technologies–like when he installed a toilet and electricity in Chiiori. He also basically looted the thatched roof of another old house to fix the one he'd bought to save money...doesn't that contribute to the destruction of traditional buildings which he is so critical of (?!) Also, isn't it odd that he invented the name Chiiori by using an old Chinese (!) character and then is disgruntled about the fact that the Japanese don't pronounce it the way he intended, since nobody uses that archaic character?
All in all, too much nostalgia for a romanticized Japan that probably only exists in this white American's imagination.
All in all, too much nostalgia for a romanticized Japan that probably only exists in this white American's imagination.
April 29, 2018
I've always been somewhat fascinated with how different Japanese culture seems from the Western way of life and one day hope to travel there. I think this must have stemmed from my love of the book and film Memoirs of a Geisha which I enjoyed growing up. Recently I watched an excellent BBC documentary about Japan and I have been wanting to read more non-fiction so I was delighted to find this book in my local library.
What a disappointment. Despite learning a little bit about kabuki theatre and Japanese art the narrative voice of this book totally irritated me. Kerr makes the most arbitrary comparisons between Japan and China and he colludes in the destruction of the traditional Japanese way of life, going about with a mad need to consume and purchase Japanese houses and art. One of the chapters was about how Japanese business is so bad because they (how Kerr adores to generalise) don't understand business like Americans. Rather than a book about Japanese culture, this book was a complete egocentric romp through Kerr's art collecting and house buying and doesn't really teach you much at all about Japan.
What a disappointment. Despite learning a little bit about kabuki theatre and Japanese art the narrative voice of this book totally irritated me. Kerr makes the most arbitrary comparisons between Japan and China and he colludes in the destruction of the traditional Japanese way of life, going about with a mad need to consume and purchase Japanese houses and art. One of the chapters was about how Japanese business is so bad because they (how Kerr adores to generalise) don't understand business like Americans. Rather than a book about Japanese culture, this book was a complete egocentric romp through Kerr's art collecting and house buying and doesn't really teach you much at all about Japan.
April 20, 2018
Growing up in SE Asia, Japanese culture had a big influence on my upbringing. I came upon this book, thinking it can give me more perspectives on culture, heritage, and identity. It did, but not to the extent that I thought it would.
The book is interesting in parts. Descriptions of the author's journey and experience in settling in Japan are captivating at times. But the constant name dropping throws me off. The underlying tone of skepticism towards change is also quite skewed. I acknowledge his in-depth knowledge of Japanese culture, and his interesting encounters, but I don't necessarily agree with his perspectives on its transformation and evolution. Nevertheless, for those who are interested in simply getting to know more about the Japanese heritage, you may enjoy this read.
The book is interesting in parts. Descriptions of the author's journey and experience in settling in Japan are captivating at times. But the constant name dropping throws me off. The underlying tone of skepticism towards change is also quite skewed. I acknowledge his in-depth knowledge of Japanese culture, and his interesting encounters, but I don't necessarily agree with his perspectives on its transformation and evolution. Nevertheless, for those who are interested in simply getting to know more about the Japanese heritage, you may enjoy this read.
August 20, 2017
Sólo voy a citar un haiku de Bashô que se me vino a la cabeza al terminar de leer el relato de un europeo que intenta conocer un país cuya identidad cultural a veces queda diluida, pero no lo suficiente como para que la fascinación por él desaparezca.
Hierba en verano:
restos de sueños secos
de unos soldados.
Bashô
Hierba en verano:
restos de sueños secos
de unos soldados.
Bashô
April 23, 2019
refreshing read.
made me think a lot
also connected some dots and filled some blank spaces i have wondered forever about such as why boring ass pachinko is so popular or why there is almost no wild nature to see in a country advertised partially as one of the most picturesque in the world and what happened to it ect.
made me think a lot
also connected some dots and filled some blank spaces i have wondered forever about such as why boring ass pachinko is so popular or why there is almost no wild nature to see in a country advertised partially as one of the most picturesque in the world and what happened to it ect.
October 13, 2019
3.5 stars. Very interesting in parts, but also a little preachy in others. He could do with getting off his high horse... 🏇
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