{"title":"A Friend in Need: Esther B. Rhoads, Quakers, and Humanitarian Relief in Allied Occupied Japan, 1946–52","authors":"Marlene J. Mayo","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2016.0006","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2016.0006","url":null,"abstract":"","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"23 1","pages":"54 - 92"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-12-06","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"81502835","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Hansen’s disease has a long history in Japan, but it was not directly targeted by legislation until Law Number 11, the “Law Concerning the Prevention of Leprosy” (Rai Yobō ni Kan Suru Ken), was passed in 1907.1 The main object of the law was the confinement of Hansen’s disease sufferers with no family or residence, such as itinerants who begged at temples and shrines.2 Thus patients who received care at home were exempt from quarantine.3 To treat vagrant patients, Law Number 11 divided the nation’s prefectures into five groups and established joint-prefectural public hospitals that began accepting sufferers in 1909.4 Mitsuda Kensuke (1876–1964) was Japan’s most influential leprologist and a proponent of isolation policies. Originally employed in a small isolation ward in a Tokyo hospital, he later worked at Zensei Hospital (Zensei Byōin, today Tama Zenshō-en), at the time one of the prefectural hospitals in Tokyo. He lobbied the Japanese government to establish a national facility on an island, based on similar quarantine hospitals in the Philippines and Hawai‘i. At Mitsuda’s urging, the Japanese government established the first national sanatorium, Nagashima Aisei-en (hereafter Aisei-en), on an island in the Inland Sea. Mitsuda became the first director of the institution.
麻风病在日本有着悠久的历史，但直到1907年通过第11号法律《麻风病防治法》(Rai yobhi ni Kan Suru Ken)，才成为立法的直接目标。该法的主要目的是限制没有家庭或住所的麻风病患者，例如在寺庙和神社乞讨的流动人员因此，在家接受治疗的病人可以免于隔离为了治疗流浪病人，第11号法令将全国的县分为五组，并建立了联合的县公立医院，并于1909年开始接受患者。三田健介(1876-1964)是日本最有影响力的麻风病专家，也是隔离政策的支持者。他最初在东京一家医院的一个小隔离病房工作，后来在当时的东京县立医院之一的禅生医院(Zensei Byōin，今天的Tama Zenshō-en)工作。他游说日本政府以菲律宾和夏威夷类似的隔离医院为基础，在一个岛上建立一个国家设施。在三田的敦促下，日本政府在内海的一个岛上建立了第一个国立疗养院——长岛爱生院(以下简称爱生院)。三田成为该机构的首任院长。
{"title":"For the Purity of the Nation: Ogawa Masako and the Gendered Ethics of Spring on the Small Island (Kojima no haru)","authors":"Kathryn M. Tanaka","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2016.0007","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2016.0007","url":null,"abstract":"Hansen’s disease has a long history in Japan, but it was not directly targeted by legislation until Law Number 11, the “Law Concerning the Prevention of Leprosy” (Rai Yobō ni Kan Suru Ken), was passed in 1907.1 The main object of the law was the confinement of Hansen’s disease sufferers with no family or residence, such as itinerants who begged at temples and shrines.2 Thus patients who received care at home were exempt from quarantine.3 To treat vagrant patients, Law Number 11 divided the nation’s prefectures into five groups and established joint-prefectural public hospitals that began accepting sufferers in 1909.4 Mitsuda Kensuke (1876–1964) was Japan’s most influential leprologist and a proponent of isolation policies. Originally employed in a small isolation ward in a Tokyo hospital, he later worked at Zensei Hospital (Zensei Byōin, today Tama Zenshō-en), at the time one of the prefectural hospitals in Tokyo. He lobbied the Japanese government to establish a national facility on an island, based on similar quarantine hospitals in the Philippines and Hawai‘i. At Mitsuda’s urging, the Japanese government established the first national sanatorium, Nagashima Aisei-en (hereafter Aisei-en), on an island in the Inland Sea. Mitsuda became the first director of the institution.","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"31 1","pages":"114 - 93"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-12-06","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"74066360","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
How are mass publics persuaded to accept new gendered roles? The capacity of popular media to influence our understandings of the roles available and appropriate to us has proved a fascinating topic for researchers across a wide range of disciplines, and for academic and nonacademic writers alike. The case of early postwar Japan is particularly engaging in terms of this question because a booming popular press, rapidly increasing cinema attendance, and occupation censorship of mass media productions combined to create a complex nexus of factors that influenced popular understandings of how to be a post-defeat Japanese citizen. Gendered roles were publicly scrutinized as Allied occupation agendas clashed with grassroots understandings of gendered performance. Mass media productions were co-opted into the project of reforming the roles and identities available to the Japanese public during the early years of the occupation (1945–52). The Japanese cinema and its surrounding print media generated alternately seductive and disciplining affects (emotions or desires) around these new gendered roles. The role of full-time professional housewife was not only one of the more highprofile roles under discussion in the popular press of the postwar era but continues to inform how Japanese home life is understood, both domestically and internationally, today. This role has been imagined alternately as an import from the United States, as a continuation of the gendered behavior of Japan’s recent past, and as a modern way of living in the new highrise housing developments (danchi) that visually confirmed Japan’s postwar rebuilding.
{"title":"How to Be a Domestic Goddess: Female Film Stars and the Housewife Role in Postwar Japan","authors":"J. Coates","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2016.0005","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2016.0005","url":null,"abstract":"How are mass publics persuaded to accept new gendered roles? The capacity of popular media to influence our understandings of the roles available and appropriate to us has proved a fascinating topic for researchers across a wide range of disciplines, and for academic and nonacademic writers alike. The case of early postwar Japan is particularly engaging in terms of this question because a booming popular press, rapidly increasing cinema attendance, and occupation censorship of mass media productions combined to create a complex nexus of factors that influenced popular understandings of how to be a post-defeat Japanese citizen. Gendered roles were publicly scrutinized as Allied occupation agendas clashed with grassroots understandings of gendered performance. Mass media productions were co-opted into the project of reforming the roles and identities available to the Japanese public during the early years of the occupation (1945–52). The Japanese cinema and its surrounding print media generated alternately seductive and disciplining affects (emotions or desires) around these new gendered roles. The role of full-time professional housewife was not only one of the more highprofile roles under discussion in the popular press of the postwar era but continues to inform how Japanese home life is understood, both domestically and internationally, today. This role has been imagined alternately as an import from the United States, as a continuation of the gendered behavior of Japan’s recent past, and as a modern way of living in the new highrise housing developments (danchi) that visually confirmed Japan’s postwar rebuilding.","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"130 1","pages":"29 - 53"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-12-06","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"79221609","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
On October 18, 1945, the U.S. Women’s Army Corps (WAC) disembarked at Yokohama to participate in the U.S. occupation of Japan (1945–52). Sharply dressed in uniform skirts and wearing aviator glasses, these white American women provided a stark contrast to the majority of Japanese women who, after the horrors and deprivations of World War II, were emaciated and shabbily dressed in wartime workpants. In defeated, bomb-destroyed Japan, where 9 million of the country’s 72 million people were homeless, the division between occupier and occupied was visible not only in terms of race but also in the material affluence of the conquerors.1 Some of these American women, or “occupationnaires,” led by Lieutenant Ethel Weed (1906–75) of the Civil Information and Education Section (CIE) under the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), were assigned to formulate policies to “liberate” Japanese women. In this context, white American women were to be bearers of democracy, while Japanese women were to be subject to “liberation” and tutelage at their hands.2 The occupation highlighted this cultural construction of American and Japanese women, including the economic divide between them, to justify the imposition of policies that purported to offer the Japanese a better life—that is, a more
{"title":"Cold War Manifest Domesticity: The “Kitchen Debate” and Single American Occupationnaire Women in the U.S. Occupation of Japan, 1945–1952","authors":"Michiko Takeuchi","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2016.0004","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2016.0004","url":null,"abstract":"On October 18, 1945, the U.S. Women’s Army Corps (WAC) disembarked at Yokohama to participate in the U.S. occupation of Japan (1945–52). Sharply dressed in uniform skirts and wearing aviator glasses, these white American women provided a stark contrast to the majority of Japanese women who, after the horrors and deprivations of World War II, were emaciated and shabbily dressed in wartime workpants. In defeated, bomb-destroyed Japan, where 9 million of the country’s 72 million people were homeless, the division between occupier and occupied was visible not only in terms of race but also in the material affluence of the conquerors.1 Some of these American women, or “occupationnaires,” led by Lieutenant Ethel Weed (1906–75) of the Civil Information and Education Section (CIE) under the Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (SCAP), were assigned to formulate policies to “liberate” Japanese women. In this context, white American women were to be bearers of democracy, while Japanese women were to be subject to “liberation” and tutelage at their hands.2 The occupation highlighted this cultural construction of American and Japanese women, including the economic divide between them, to justify the imposition of policies that purported to offer the Japanese a better life—that is, a more","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"23 1","pages":"28 - 3"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-12-06","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"73190466","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Along with significant demographic change caused by declining birthrates and an aging population, Japan is facing a labor shortage. The government has tried to implement labor market reforms, setting two objectives—women’s job continuity and promotion—as major strategies to increase the total labor force (Kantei 2014). The Act on Promotion of Women’s Participation and Advancement in the Workplace (Josei Katsuyaku Suishin Hō) was put into effect in April 2016. This legislation encouraged firms to boost women’s active participation in the workforce through measures that included an increase in the number of female managers (Gender Equality Bureau 2016). These reforms have cast a larger spotlight on women’s employment. I argue that these government actions, however, may make little contribution to women’s promotion in the workplace because of the tenkin system: the established business practice of various kinds of personnel transfer that require the employee to move house (JILPT 2005: 64).1 In most corporations, both blue-collar and white-collar regular workers (seishain) are trained and promoted using personnel transfers (Cole 1979, Sugayama 2011, Gordon 2012). For blue-collar workers, these transfers are a means by which they acquire new technical skills and receive employment security, even in the case of plant closures (Yamamoto 1967, Koike 1977). For white-collar, career-track employees, transfers facilitate promotion by helping them develop their managerial skills and thereby ascend the corporate hierarchy (Hatvany and Pucik 1981, Pucik 1984, Koike 1991). But transfers
{"title":"Tenkin, New Marital Relationships, and Women’s Challenges in Employment and Family","authors":"N. Fujita","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2016.0008","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2016.0008","url":null,"abstract":"Along with significant demographic change caused by declining birthrates and an aging population, Japan is facing a labor shortage. The government has tried to implement labor market reforms, setting two objectives—women’s job continuity and promotion—as major strategies to increase the total labor force (Kantei 2014). The Act on Promotion of Women’s Participation and Advancement in the Workplace (Josei Katsuyaku Suishin Hō) was put into effect in April 2016. This legislation encouraged firms to boost women’s active participation in the workforce through measures that included an increase in the number of female managers (Gender Equality Bureau 2016). These reforms have cast a larger spotlight on women’s employment. I argue that these government actions, however, may make little contribution to women’s promotion in the workplace because of the tenkin system: the established business practice of various kinds of personnel transfer that require the employee to move house (JILPT 2005: 64).1 In most corporations, both blue-collar and white-collar regular workers (seishain) are trained and promoted using personnel transfers (Cole 1979, Sugayama 2011, Gordon 2012). For blue-collar workers, these transfers are a means by which they acquire new technical skills and receive employment security, even in the case of plant closures (Yamamoto 1967, Koike 1977). For white-collar, career-track employees, transfers facilitate promotion by helping them develop their managerial skills and thereby ascend the corporate hierarchy (Hatvany and Pucik 1981, Pucik 1984, Koike 1991). But transfers","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"42 1","pages":"115 - 135"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-12-06","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"73744730","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Written and published in 1895, Higuchi Ichiyō’s (1872–96) celebrated short story “Troubled Waters” (Nigorie) centers on Oriki, a beautiful prostitute who serves as the major attraction at an illegal brothel called the Kikunoi. The power of the story lies largely in its effective portrayal of this complex heroine, who is tormented not only by what her profession requires of her but by the family history that drove her into prostitution in the first place, even as she flaunts the façade of a cheerful and willful woman of the pleasure quarters. The centrality of Oriki’s anguish in the narrative has also shaped studies of “Troubled Waters.” In recent years, Timothy J. Van Compernolle has offered a compelling rereading of the text in this vein by analyzing how Oriki’s psychological portraiture is constructed by combining two literary paradigms—(1) shinjū-mono (love-suicide plays) of the early modern period, made canonical by Chikamatsu Monzaemon in the early eighteenth century; and (2) success stories of the Meiji period that center on the ideology of risshin shusse, the modern ideology that lauds worldly success, which had already firmly established itself in the popular imagination by the time of Ichiyō’s writing.1 Van Compernolle’s reading situates “Troubled Waters” at the intersection of the two literary genres and the social mores of the two respective historical periods. This has been a welcome addition to readings that challenge the problematic tendencies that plagued earlier studies of Ichiyō’s texts: (a) overemphasis on Ichiyō’s classical style, which led some critics to overlook her
通口一井(1872-96)的著名短篇小说《乱水》(Nigorie)写于1895年，以Oriki为中心，她是一个美丽的妓女，是一家名为菊野的非法妓院的主要吸引力。这个故事的力量很大程度上在于它对这个复杂的女主人公的有效刻画，她不仅被她的职业要求所折磨，而且被最初驱使她卖淫的家族史所折磨，尽管她炫耀着一个快乐而任性的女人的外表。Oriki的痛苦在叙事中的中心地位也影响了对《浑水》的研究。近年来，Timothy J. Van Compernolle通过分析orki的心理肖像是如何通过结合两种文学范式(1)shinjū-mono(爱情自杀剧)来构建的，这两种文学范式在18世纪初被Chikamatsu Monzaemon确立为典范;(2)明治时期的成功故事，这些故事以“事理”的意识形态为中心，这是一种颂扬世俗成功的现代意识形态，在一益健写作的时候，这种意识形态已经在大众的想象中牢固地确立了自己的地位Van Compernolle的阅读将《浑水》置于两种文学类型和两个各自历史时期的社会习俗的交汇处。这是一个受欢迎的阅读补充，它挑战了困扰着一益井文本早期研究的问题倾向:(a)过度强调一益井的古典风格，这导致一些评论家忽视了她
{"title":"From the Margins of Meiji Society: Space and Gender in Higuchi Ichiyō’s “Troubled Waters”","authors":"M. Manabe","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2016.0002","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2016.0002","url":null,"abstract":"Written and published in 1895, Higuchi Ichiyō’s (1872–96) celebrated short story “Troubled Waters” (Nigorie) centers on Oriki, a beautiful prostitute who serves as the major attraction at an illegal brothel called the Kikunoi. The power of the story lies largely in its effective portrayal of this complex heroine, who is tormented not only by what her profession requires of her but by the family history that drove her into prostitution in the first place, even as she flaunts the façade of a cheerful and willful woman of the pleasure quarters. The centrality of Oriki’s anguish in the narrative has also shaped studies of “Troubled Waters.” In recent years, Timothy J. Van Compernolle has offered a compelling rereading of the text in this vein by analyzing how Oriki’s psychological portraiture is constructed by combining two literary paradigms—(1) shinjū-mono (love-suicide plays) of the early modern period, made canonical by Chikamatsu Monzaemon in the early eighteenth century; and (2) success stories of the Meiji period that center on the ideology of risshin shusse, the modern ideology that lauds worldly success, which had already firmly established itself in the popular imagination by the time of Ichiyō’s writing.1 Van Compernolle’s reading situates “Troubled Waters” at the intersection of the two literary genres and the social mores of the two respective historical periods. This has been a welcome addition to readings that challenge the problematic tendencies that plagued earlier studies of Ichiyō’s texts: (a) overemphasis on Ichiyō’s classical style, which led some critics to overlook her","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"32 1","pages":"26 - 50"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-04-18","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"84991405","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
Facebook’s Chief Operating Officer Sheryl Sandberg briefly met Japanese Prime Minister Abe Shinzo in May 2013 on her tour to bring the “Lean In” movement, based on her women’s empowerment book of the same name, to Japan. The would-be hero of the contemporary American women’s movement met the conservative would-be hero of Japan, and found that they had a common solution to the divergent problems set before them—namely, women’s empowerment in the workplace. Sandberg asserts that women’s success in top professions requires them to renew commitment to their careers and invest in themselves, while Abe argues that breaking out of Japan’s economic doldrums requires a jolt of energy to be obtained by putting more women in corporate boardrooms. If Japan has ever needed a postwar hero, surely the time is now. Abe, serving his second term as prime minister, faces a host of challenges: national debt level over 200 percent of GDP, low economic growth rates in a stubbornly deflationary economy, and an extremely low birthrate that seems to pose an existential threat to the Japanese nation itself—not to mention the challenge of recovery from the devastating “triple disaster” of the March 2011 earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown. These challenges seem all the more daunting against the backdrop of a rising China that seems, at least to many of Abe’s associates, to be set on reshaping the regional order and pushing Japan into the background. Across these very different but interrelated debates about Japan’s economic and social challenges, the slow pace of Japanese women’s progress is frequently posited as the central problem of the country’s modernization and development. Women’s social advancement is represented as capable of unlocking all of Japan’s problems, from lack of alignment with international norms to economic development to national renewal of
{"title":"Will Japan “Lean In” to Gender Equality?","authors":"L. Coleman","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2016.0001","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2016.0001","url":null,"abstract":"Facebook’s Chief Operating Officer Sheryl Sandberg briefly met Japanese Prime Minister Abe Shinzo in May 2013 on her tour to bring the “Lean In” movement, based on her women’s empowerment book of the same name, to Japan. The would-be hero of the contemporary American women’s movement met the conservative would-be hero of Japan, and found that they had a common solution to the divergent problems set before them—namely, women’s empowerment in the workplace. Sandberg asserts that women’s success in top professions requires them to renew commitment to their careers and invest in themselves, while Abe argues that breaking out of Japan’s economic doldrums requires a jolt of energy to be obtained by putting more women in corporate boardrooms. If Japan has ever needed a postwar hero, surely the time is now. Abe, serving his second term as prime minister, faces a host of challenges: national debt level over 200 percent of GDP, low economic growth rates in a stubbornly deflationary economy, and an extremely low birthrate that seems to pose an existential threat to the Japanese nation itself—not to mention the challenge of recovery from the devastating “triple disaster” of the March 2011 earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown. These challenges seem all the more daunting against the backdrop of a rising China that seems, at least to many of Abe’s associates, to be set on reshaping the regional order and pushing Japan into the background. Across these very different but interrelated debates about Japan’s economic and social challenges, the slow pace of Japanese women’s progress is frequently posited as the central problem of the country’s modernization and development. Women’s social advancement is represented as capable of unlocking all of Japan’s problems, from lack of alignment with international norms to economic development to national renewal of","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"11 1","pages":"25 - 3"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-04-18","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"84177573","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
In Ogawa Yōko’s Mīna no kōshin (Mena’s procession, 2006), the adult narrator Tomoko regularly gazes at a token from her past: a photo taken in 1973 when Tomoko, aged 12, spent a year with her wealthy aunt, uncle, and cousin in a spacious mansion outside Ashiya.1 Glancing down at the photo, Tomoko moves along an odd cast of characters: Mena, her cousin, whose chestnut-colored eyes and brown-black hair testify to her partGerman heritage; Mena’s mother, father, and her brother Ryūichi; and Rosa, her German Jewish grandmother. Next to Rosa stand the faithful housekeeper, Yoneda, and Kobayashi, the groundskeeper, who guards Pochiko, the family pet, a pigmy hippo who once lived in the wealthy family’s small zoo. Gazing at the photo, Tomoko utters the reassuring words to herself, “Every time I look at the photo, I whisper, ‘Everyone is here, it’s OK, no one is missing’” (Mīna no kōshin, 197).2 Tomoko’s use of the present tense serves as a hedge against reality: in her mind at least, Ashiya remains unchanged over time. At the beginning of the novel, Tomoko also seems unable to shake off the illusion of stasis: “In
在小川Yōko的《梅娜的游行》kōshin(2006年出版)中，成年叙述者智子经常注视着她过去的象征:1973年，12岁的智子和她富有的姨妈、叔叔和表弟在秋谷外的一所宽敞的豪宅里度过了一年。1智子瞥了一眼照片，沿着一组奇怪的人物移动:她的表妹梅娜，她栗色的眼睛和棕黑色的头发证明她有德国血统;米纳的母亲，父亲，和她的兄弟Ryūichi;还有罗莎，她的德国犹太祖母。罗莎旁边站着忠诚的管家米田和饲养员小林，他负责看守家里的宠物Pochiko，这是一只曾经生活在这个富裕家庭的小动物园里的侏儒河马。智子凝视着照片，对自己说了一句安慰的话:“每次我看着照片，我低声说，‘每个人都在这里，一切都好，没有人失踪’”(Mīna no kōshin, 197)友子对现在时的使用是对现实的一种规避:至少在她的脑海里，秋叶一直保持不变。在小说的开头，友子似乎也无法摆脱停滞的幻觉:“在
{"title":"Angels and Elephants: Historical Allegories in Ogawa Yōko’s 2006 Mīna no kōshin","authors":"Everett Zimmerman","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2016.0000","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2016.0000","url":null,"abstract":"In Ogawa Yōko’s Mīna no kōshin (Mena’s procession, 2006), the adult narrator Tomoko regularly gazes at a token from her past: a photo taken in 1973 when Tomoko, aged 12, spent a year with her wealthy aunt, uncle, and cousin in a spacious mansion outside Ashiya.1 Glancing down at the photo, Tomoko moves along an odd cast of characters: Mena, her cousin, whose chestnut-colored eyes and brown-black hair testify to her partGerman heritage; Mena’s mother, father, and her brother Ryūichi; and Rosa, her German Jewish grandmother. Next to Rosa stand the faithful housekeeper, Yoneda, and Kobayashi, the groundskeeper, who guards Pochiko, the family pet, a pigmy hippo who once lived in the wealthy family’s small zoo. Gazing at the photo, Tomoko utters the reassuring words to herself, “Every time I look at the photo, I whisper, ‘Everyone is here, it’s OK, no one is missing’” (Mīna no kōshin, 197).2 Tomoko’s use of the present tense serves as a hedge against reality: in her mind at least, Ashiya remains unchanged over time. At the beginning of the novel, Tomoko also seems unable to shake off the illusion of stasis: “In","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"25 1","pages":"68 - 96"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-04-18","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"73816960","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
This essay begins at the end, with the question that brings Hasegawa Junko’s (b. 1966) novel Kodoku no ii nari (Prisoner of solitude) to a close: “Hey, wanna have some fun?”1 The novel’s protagonist, Mayuko, who is not yet adjusted to her life as a streetwalker, chooses an unlikely interlocutor. With a hunched back and bird-like face, he does not fit the profile of a typical john. But there on the street, she is inexplicably drawn to him. The man seems burdened by loneliness, the narrator explains, just like Mayuko. So she calls out to him. But the novel ends before he can respond, a fitting conclusion to a narrative concerned with the ways in which Mayuko has been betrayed by intimacy’s empty promises. This essay is concerned with Mayuko’s story, and the critique of gendered institutions of intimacy that is embedded in her descent from being a woman who aspires to love and affection to one who has settled for picking up men on the street. Rather than exploring the possibilities of streetwalking as a vehicle for female and feminist agency, Hasegawa uses Mayuko’s turn to the street to ask why some women feel worthless without men, why women’s bodies continue to be of critical social importance. Mayuko does not find streetwalking exhilarating or empowering. Instead, it is an expression of her powerlessness and invisibility: only by reducing herself to a body is she able to draw the attention of men who otherwise have no interest in her. Thus Hasegawa interrogates the instability of emotional intimacy and human connection in the face of sex with no strings attached.
这篇文章以长谷川纯子(生于1966年)的小说《孤独的囚徒》(Kodoku no ii nari)结尾的问题开始:“嘿，想找点乐子吗?小说的主人公Mayuko还没有适应自己的街头妓女生活，她选择了一个不太可能的对话者。他驼背，像鸟一样的脸，不符合典型的嫖客形象。但在街上，她莫名其妙地被他吸引住了。叙述者解释说，这个男人似乎被孤独所累，就像真子一样。于是她大声叫他。但小说在他做出回应之前就结束了，这是一个关于真子被亲密关系的空洞承诺所背叛的方式的叙述的恰当结论。这篇文章关注的是真子的故事，以及她从一个渴望爱和感情的女人到一个满足于在街上勾搭男人的女人的堕落过程中对性别关系的批判。长谷川并没有探索街妓作为女性和女权主义中介的可能性，而是利用真子走上街头的机会来追问，为什么没有男人，有些女人会觉得自己毫无价值，为什么女性的身体仍然具有至关重要的社会重要性。Mayuko并不觉得走街令人兴奋或充满力量。相反，这是她无能为力和隐形的一种表达:只有把自己缩小到一个身体，她才能吸引那些对她没有兴趣的男人的注意。因此，长谷川质问情感亲密和人际关系的不稳定性，面对无附加条件的性。
{"title":"Topographies of Intimacy: Sex and Shibuya in Hasegawa Junko’s Prisoner of Solitude","authors":"D. Holloway","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2016.0003","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2016.0003","url":null,"abstract":"This essay begins at the end, with the question that brings Hasegawa Junko’s (b. 1966) novel Kodoku no ii nari (Prisoner of solitude) to a close: “Hey, wanna have some fun?”1 The novel’s protagonist, Mayuko, who is not yet adjusted to her life as a streetwalker, chooses an unlikely interlocutor. With a hunched back and bird-like face, he does not fit the profile of a typical john. But there on the street, she is inexplicably drawn to him. The man seems burdened by loneliness, the narrator explains, just like Mayuko. So she calls out to him. But the novel ends before he can respond, a fitting conclusion to a narrative concerned with the ways in which Mayuko has been betrayed by intimacy’s empty promises. This essay is concerned with Mayuko’s story, and the critique of gendered institutions of intimacy that is embedded in her descent from being a woman who aspires to love and affection to one who has settled for picking up men on the street. Rather than exploring the possibilities of streetwalking as a vehicle for female and feminist agency, Hasegawa uses Mayuko’s turn to the street to ask why some women feel worthless without men, why women’s bodies continue to be of critical social importance. Mayuko does not find streetwalking exhilarating or empowering. Instead, it is an expression of her powerlessness and invisibility: only by reducing herself to a body is she able to draw the attention of men who otherwise have no interest in her. Thus Hasegawa interrogates the instability of emotional intimacy and human connection in the face of sex with no strings attached.","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"7 1","pages":"51 - 67"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-04-18","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"89678306","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
The concept of a modern literature in Japan and Korea, much like the concept of modernity itself, was an inherently gendered one. And nowhere was the gendered nature of emergent modernity more explicit than in portrayals of women in prose fiction. Canonical novels such as Yi Kwang-su’s Mujŏng (The heartless, 1917) and Tanizaki Jun’ichirō’s Chijin no ai (A fool’s love, 1924) were clear examples of the manner in which this new guise of womanhood was received as a corollary to the creation of a modern nation-state. In Mujŏng, for example, Sheila Miyoshi Jager suggests that the protagonist Hyŏng-sik’s “obsession with the state of Yŏng-chae’s body and its ambiguous purity is a central focus of the novel and plays a central role in Hyŏng-sik’s struggles with his (and the nation’s) identity.”1 But while works by well-known male writers have already been the subject of countless detailed studies, we have yet to elucidate fully how women writers, as women who were themselves subject to the gendered ideologies of modernity, may have comprehended their own positions in the turbulent periods of transition that characterize the first half of the twentieth century in East Asia. The discussion that follows looks at how proletarian women writers in both Japan and Korea became disenchanted with preexisting identities for women, denoted by labels such as “New Woman” (atarashii onna; shin yŏsŏng), “modern girl” (modan gāru;
{"title":"Women Educating Women: Class, Feminism, and Formal Education in the Proletarian Writing of Hirabayashi Taiko and Kang Kyŏng-ae","authors":"Elizabeth Grace","doi":"10.1353/JWJ.2015.0006","DOIUrl":"https://doi.org/10.1353/JWJ.2015.0006","url":null,"abstract":"The concept of a modern literature in Japan and Korea, much like the concept of modernity itself, was an inherently gendered one. And nowhere was the gendered nature of emergent modernity more explicit than in portrayals of women in prose fiction. Canonical novels such as Yi Kwang-su’s Mujŏng (The heartless, 1917) and Tanizaki Jun’ichirō’s Chijin no ai (A fool’s love, 1924) were clear examples of the manner in which this new guise of womanhood was received as a corollary to the creation of a modern nation-state. In Mujŏng, for example, Sheila Miyoshi Jager suggests that the protagonist Hyŏng-sik’s “obsession with the state of Yŏng-chae’s body and its ambiguous purity is a central focus of the novel and plays a central role in Hyŏng-sik’s struggles with his (and the nation’s) identity.”1 But while works by well-known male writers have already been the subject of countless detailed studies, we have yet to elucidate fully how women writers, as women who were themselves subject to the gendered ideologies of modernity, may have comprehended their own positions in the turbulent periods of transition that characterize the first half of the twentieth century in East Asia. The discussion that follows looks at how proletarian women writers in both Japan and Korea became disenchanted with preexisting identities for women, denoted by labels such as “New Woman” (atarashii onna; shin yŏsŏng), “modern girl” (modan gāru;","PeriodicalId":88338,"journal":{"name":"U.S.-Japan women's journal. English supplement = Nichi-Bei josei janaru. English supplement","volume":"11 7","pages":"3 - 32"},"PeriodicalIF":0.0,"publicationDate":"2016-03-16","publicationTypes":"Journal Article","fieldsOfStudy":null,"isOpenAccess":false,"openAccessPdf":"https://sci-hub-pdf.com/10.1353/JWJ.2015.0006","citationCount":null,"resultStr":null,"platform":"Semanticscholar","paperid":"72493292","PeriodicalName":null,"FirstCategoryId":null,"ListUrlMain":null,"RegionNum":0,"RegionCategory":"","ArticlePicture":[],"TitleCN":null,"AbstractTextCN":null,"PMCID":"","EPubDate":null,"PubModel":null,"JCR":null,"JCRName":null,"Score":null,"Total":0}
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