Passage J: Fukushima

Riku and the Kingdom of White is my translation of リクと白の王国 (Riku to shiro no ōkoku), Randy Taguchi’s urgent, magical realist tale of childhood innocence lost in the wake of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami disaster. Rates of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) among children of the affected areas continue to run high, as Ms. Taguchi confirmed in the course of her extensive research interviewing the children and parents who continue to live in Fukushima to this day. The story, inspired by the interviews, reveals a soul-searing picture of how children, and even their parents, continue to cope and remain undaunted, finding hope in the midst of so much uncertainty, hopelessness, and tragedy.

After Fujisan, this is the second work by Ms. Taguchi I have had the immense honor of translating. I highly recommend it not only for those who are keen to learn about life in Fukushima for children today, but for all those who are fond of YA novels as well. The book is out from Balestier Press, an exciting independent publisher based in Singapore and London, focusing on Contemporary Asian literature.

The author of Fujisan, Randy Taguchi, recently held a launch party for the release of her new novel, “In the Zone (Zone Ni Te in the original Japanese).” The title is a reference to the 20km evacuation zone around the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, decommissioned due to the meltdowns that follwed in the wake of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami disaster. Populated with characters based on Ms. Taguchi’s probing, personal interviews with the displaced, the novel sold more than two hundred copies within three days of its release.

The launch party took place at a newly opened airy restaurant-cum-library called Waterras, located in the vicinity of a number of Japan’s major publishing houses in Tokyo. Ms. Taguchi was dressed in a flowing cotton ensemble and a bead necklace, making her reminiscent of a benevolent new age mystic from the island in Lost, the TV series. Petite in stature, she began her talk perched on a stool before a sizable audience of her devoted fans like Ms. Mie, who had come all the way from, as it happened, Mie prefecture, wearing her two little boys in baby slings; one strapped behind her and the other in front. Moments later though, Ms. Taguchi stopped speaking and jumped off the stool to stay true to her Earth Mother persona. “I need to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground,” she said before moving on.

In the course of her lively talk, she announced her tie-up with a local bookstore to help revive more of its kind in this day and age of one-click convenience, introduced “Deserted" by Toshifumi Taniuchi (a vivid photgraphic account of life [or the lack therof] in Fukushima's danger zone), presented a slide show of package tours (led by Ms. Taguchi herself) to destinations such as Sri Lanka, and introduced Chita Grandy, her fan club. With this enterprise, she hopes to not only build a community of fans but also co-author works of literature with them. As if to commemorate the beginning of such an experimental, grass-roots, artistic collaboration, one of Ms. Taguchi’s assistants--an animated young man--appeared on stage and performed a dynamic, improvisational dance. Incidentally, yours truly ended up providing rhythmic accompaniment and had a great time reliving his rock-band days, banging away on a lectern with his bare hands.

The highlight of her talk, however, was an anecdote about her meeting with her late idol, the prominent Jungian, Dr. Hayao Kawai, whose renowned works include, “The Japanese Psyche: Major Motifs in the Fairy Tales of Japan.” Ms. Taguchi's agent was also present at this meeting of the minds and he dropped the question, “How did you like Fujisan?” The psychologist's response indicated that he was more interested in Randy Taguchi the daughter than in Randy Taguchi the author. In fact, he remained terse throughout the sesstion until it became clear that Ms. Taguchi's relationship with her father, an alcoholic, was a tumultuous one. For some reason, this revelation, along with other stories about her father, fascinated the reflective scholar and prompted him to convey one rather enigmatic tip just before parting company. “When you go out meeting people for your research and such, just let your mind get hazy, my dear,” he said to Ms. Taguchi, leaving her annoyed and puzzled.

But many bestsellers later, and after meditating over the years on Dr. Kawai’s message--long after he had passed away--she concluded with teary eyes that she finally understood what the doctor had meant, and that she was truly grateful to him for the wisdom he had shared that day.

The Japanese word the doctor had used for hazy was “bonyari.” While this could also be translated to “vacant” or even “absent-minded,” the word also implies “out of focus.” If a writer’s life could be about gaining a lateral perspective on reality to arrive at resonant truths, Ms. Taguchi has most evidently mastered the art of shifting her mind out of focus from time to time--of slowing down to stop and smell the metaphysical roses.