Review by Ian Josh Yates

Within A Passion for Japan: A Collection of Personal Narratives, John Rucynski has collected varied and intriguing snippets of life from the authors who have all come to live and search for a passion in the Land of the Rising Sun. The writers themselves come from all parts of the earth, with all slants of backgrounds, and overall, only share two commonalities: One, that they have landed, either momentarily or eternally, at some spot along the string of islands that creates Japan, and two, that they want to share with others what Japan is to them, and through doing so, who they are. Any reader will find it hard to deny that who each author is and what Japan is to them, is very much the same thing.

Even with such widespread focuses, from the countryside life to the noisy city, from Buddhism to indie rock and local literature, it is undeniable that all the writers have found a wonderfully normal yet uniquely fascinating passion in Japan. It also appears universal that along with finding such passions, they uncover the happiness of knowing who they really are.

With such a large selection to choose from, how can a reviewer fairly choose which parts to focus on in such a sparkling ensemble? Well, why not follow the advice that pops up in a majority of the tales within the book itself: Find what you love and find your love of Japan, or in this case, find your love in a book about Japan.

For this reviewer the choice was obvious: sports.

Of the thirty one stories, five focus primarily on sports. Two take a look at sumo, and the others examine Japanese baseball, tennis, and volleyball. These short tales follow beautifully in the tradition of authors like Robert Whiting by using a game many already are familiar with to explain the similarities and differences between Japan and elsewhere.

Tim Craig with “Sumo and Me” and Katrina Watts with “A Pushover for Sumo” approach the traditional Japanese sport from very different angles. Craig falls in love with the sport, as an audience member soaking in the culture on display during and between the fights.

For Craig, as with many others, Japan presented him with a conundrum of sorts, but one that with the help of a little drinking was a joy to attempt to solve:

I love Japan, and have now lived here for 25 fun years and counting, but in many ways that first year in Iwate was the funnest of all, or at least the most interesting, because it was like constantly trying to solve a big puzzle.

Watts, on the other hand couldn’t keep her distance from the sport to simply enjoy it and found herself diving straight into providing translation for the wrestlers, serving as an NHK TV commentator and becoming very much an ambassador for the sport overseas. She presents a spellbindingly inside view that almost no other could, especially with a female and foreign point of view. At times it took a sumo style of guts for Watts to bear the trying challenge of being so different in Japan:

Takamiyama (the first Hawaiian in pro sumo), when he was scolded for the tears running down his face as he was trying to do matawari (sumo splits) encouraged me: “it is sweat, not tears” he had responded. I too could keep trying. Patience and perseverance in sumo and in life.

In “Baseball, Blogging and Belonging,” Trevor Raichura paints a picture of his struggles to find his true purpose in Japan. Life seemed dull and uninspiring despite the exoticness compared to his Calgary upbringing. It wasn’t until he found a spark of inspiration while sitting in Koshien stadium watching baseball that he realized that if he could bring the Tigers to an English audience, he could develop the community that he longed for. Even if it wasn’t hockey, seeing the crowd at Japan’s oldest stadium gather into a single purpose of cheering together was a fire of life that Raichura hoped would bring heat to every aspect of his days here.

Greg Rouault, another Canadian who ventured across the pond, writes in “Who, me?! Volleyball Refereeing and Japan” about his times working as a referee for the Japan Volleyball Association. Without speaking a word of Japanese Rouault jumped straight into his life in Japan by implementing a simple stance of watch and learn. This approach worked quite well for sports and everyday living:

Back in Canada, as I was developing as a referee, and eventually in my teaching of other refs, I had always emphasized learning by observation. So in my new context, that is what I did. I believe this made having me around a bit less troublesome than it might have been otherwise; I was able to observe the local customs and fall in step quite well.

The final look at sports comes from Dr. Haru Yamada, described as a “global nomad” and the one writer on sports who might be expected to have a Japanese perspective. However, in “The Inner Game of the Japanese: Going Back Home with Tennis” Yamada, as an elementary school kikoshukijo (returnee) from New York city, shares with us her own feeling of disconnect and sadness at being in a country where despite one looking like a local, being different can crush the spirit. Yamada, with her New York pride, found it demoralizing when a coach forced her to pick up the tennis balls of senior students. As a tennis player, she felt she should be playing tennis, not picking up after others. However, despite the differences in Yamada’s experience, she finds that with a bit of acceptance, and a focus on the love of the sport, she too was able to grow and live happily in Japan.

Anthologies have the great ability to show us the pros and cons of life. Each sport, and more so, each passion of the twenty-five authors given a voice in this volume shows us again and again that life in a foreign land isn’t always a walk in the cherry blossom park. However, again and again these authors, with hundreds of combined years of life in Japan, come to similar conclusions: It is tough, but worth it, especially once you find your passion, your reason for being here. A Passion for Japan is well worth a read.

Listen to the BOA podcast: Japan in 31 Passions with John Rucynski.