Twentieth Century Surrealism Tempered by Literary Discipline

Beneath the Sleepless Tossing of the Planets: Selected Poems by Makoto Ōoka
translated by Janine Beichman (Kurodahan Press, 2019)

Review by Christopher Blasdel

The title of this magnificently translated volume of poetry by the recently deceased Japanese poet Makoto Ōoka immediately conjures a sense of the surreal. Even a cursory look at the individual poetry titles in the table of contents reinforces this feeling: “Daybreak Leaf Alive,” “Cerebropolis,” “Comrades–the Earth is Cold,” and the enigmatic title poem which in many ways forms the nucleus of this collection, “Song of the Nuclear Submarine ‘Thresher’, Its Sexual Sea Passage and Suicide.”

One does not normally associate Japan with the surrealist movement that was an integral part of soul searching that defined 20th Century western thought. Nonetheless, surrealism in contemporary Japanese writing is not without precedent. When I was an early student of the Japanese language, I discovered the works of Taruho Inagaki (1900-1977). His One-Thousand-and-One-Second Stories (1923) is a collection of fantastical, unrelated stories that defy logic but at the same time are perfectly attenuated to the times in the way they poked fun at the monolithic, inflexible thinking that was prevalent in the nationalistic group-think of Japan in the 1920s. But even now, post-war, post-modern and post-bubble, Inagaki is a liberating read, and his writings are as profound and thought-provoking as any of the absurdist fiction by Edward Albee, Samuel Beckett or Franz Kafka.

Like Inagaki, Ōoka deftly blends and conjures words that are a reflection of his fantastical thoughts, his profound scholarship of traditional Japanese literature, and his love of language together with a highly sensual approach to the physical world. The result is a wonderful and entertaining journey through an extraordinary mind with thought processes informed by both the total immediacy of the present and the rich traditional literary heritage of Japan.

To quote from the book’s preface written by one of Ōoka’s contemporaries, the poet Shuntaro Tanikawa, Ōoka’s attraction to surrealism “lay not only in a personal affinity, but also in surrealism’s resonance with the dominant pantheism at the heart of the traditional Japanese sensibility.”

Reading this passage, I recalled a conversation I once had with Ōoka-san while attending one of his famous New Year’s Parties at his house in Chōfu. These parties were attended by visual artists, theater folk, musicians, writers and publishers, and oftentimes they included impromptu performances, readings or musical performances. Somehow Ōoka-san ended up giving a poetry reading while I accompanied him on the shakuhachi. Though I forget the poem’s title, what struck me about the work was its clear and pure sensuality, and that his words made me feel as if I were being seduced by a lofty, almost deific force. After that small performance, the topic turned to Shintō pantheism and how fluid and unalloyed the Japanese kami deities seem in their sensual and sexual proclivities.

It is the role of the artist to reflect the actions and thoughts of the gods. For Ōoka-san, this meant celebrating the love for his wife (and by extension, women in general), and for Inagaki it was an aesthetic love and appreciation of the young male (Shōnen Ai no Bigaku). Both are honest and valid expressions of the same primordial principle of existence.

Tanikawa calls this approach “paneroticism,” and writes that it is Ōoka’s salvation, “which saves him from the abyss of abstraction.” Indeed, Ōoka’s poems are written from the heart, overflowing with love but fully informed by the intellect.

“Cerebropolis”

—Leave tomorrow’s wind to tomorrow, you say?

Something terrible was going to happen.
Every room in every house felt it.

Some people were already secretly building shelters.
Some had already drowned in the sewers, trying to escape.

From the town’s first cell-room to its fourteen billionth,
shock and tension at the slightest change in wind pressure.

And yet the sounds of music echoed, and there was love.

Lovers walked together tenderly.
but they too held their breath and waited.

That voice for which everyone was waiting
was within each of them:

“Oh, let’s just tear it all down already.
I want to breathe easy again. Easy.”

To let it out:
That was the most terrifying
thing of all.

Translating contemporary Japanese poetry is a herculean task requiring precise scholarship, linguistic prowess and an ear tuned to the innate musicality of each word. (It is telling that the Japanese word for poem, shi,is a late 19 th century construct. Before that, in Japan all poetry was simply referred to as song, uta, signifying the importance of the human voice and musicality in recitation.) The translator must essentially recreate the poem in English, which means that each word of the original, imbued as it is with significance and inner cadence, must ring with the same resonance in English.

Janine Beichman does this with great success. Her translations are fluid and deeply informed by her long personal association with Ōoka and her knowledge of the subject matter. It is also helpful that all the poems in this volume are included in the original Japanese as well, which makes it invaluable for students of Japanese literature or students of translation. I found myself referring to the original just to satisfy my curiosity, and oftentimes I was pleasantly surprised to see how certain Japanese phrases and words could be rendered in English so clearly and artistically. Another helpful aspect of this book are the reproductions of Ōoka’a inimitable calligraphy of his own poetry. Beichman thoughtfully includes the reading and translation of the poems, thus enabling the reader to have another peek of this man’s extraordinary creativity.

About the reviewer

Christopher Blasdel is a shakuhachi performer and Adjunct Lecturer at the University of Hawai’i, Mānoa.

About the Translator

Janine Beichman has written and translated various other works including Makoto Ōoka’s Oriori No Uta: Poems for All Seasons and Masaoka Shiki: His Life and Works.