PositiveAsymptoteYū Miri brings the periphery of tragedy into focus in dreamy, kaleidoscopic visions, intertwining Kazu’s past, the history of Ueno Park, and the state of modern Japanese society. Tokyo Ueno Station is a shattered mirror of prose, made of misshapen shards that don’t always connect but together reflect an image of a lost life and inevitable misfortune ... As Kazu’s story is unearthed, the prelude poem becomes imbued and enriched by the melancholic life it represents ... Rather than solely exploring what it means to suffer at the hand of fate, Miri asks how that must feel in a world where those in power coexist in seemingly uncaring prosperity with the powerless ... By weaving the park’s history into the narrative, Miri successfully evolves the setting of the novel into a character in its own right. Ueno Park arises from the background as a complement to Kazu’s character—a partner in pain, a sympathetic place to rest his head ... The intertwining of narrative styles can be disorienting at times. Though the novel is technically told from Kazu’s first-person perspective, his voice often dissolves into the background in favor of a history lesson from Shige or an observational perspective of present-day Ueno Park ... Translated by Morgan Giles from Miri’s original Japanese, the voice of the English text has a certain vague, indistinct quality to it. Though the novel begins with a tangible first-person narration, that voice and its personality become diluted in descriptions of mundane activity around Ueno Park and its history. Even when the first person style returns to the forefront, some phrases feel distinctly non-idiomatic ... It’s possible that Giles chose to favor linguistic accuracy over literary embellishment, the former being a formidable challenge in and of itself. And that is not to say that there aren’t some standout quotes in this translation as well ... Miri is experimenting, abandoning a more defined narrative structure and style for something more poetic, loose-fitting, and juxtaposing. One loses track of the distinct and disjointed pieces and instead perceives the poignant whole, the tragic story of a man living under one of the many blue tents of Ueno Park.
Yoko Tawada, Trans. by Margaret Mitsutani
RaveAsymptote\"Part of what makes The Emissary a distinct and timely work is its focus on the dynamics of language, imagining how language can be warped in extreme social circumstances. Translator Margaret Mitsutani succeeds in preserving much of Tawada’s play of Japanese linguistics into English ... In the exposition of The Emissary, Tawada remains remarkably subtle and restrained. The story reads like a nightmare unfolding in a fog. Rather than direct description, Tawada reveals little pieces of the world through subtle remarks and allusions ... In Mumei we see resiliency, tenderness, and an unbridled imagination. The Emissary urges us to keep that imagination close to our hearts and put it to work, to envision a better future for ourselves and the generations to come.\
