Review of Lafcadio Hearn's Japanese Tales (Oddly Modern Fairy Tales series)

(Review written by Leigh Smith)

“I have pledged me to the worship of the Odd . . . the Strange . . . the Monstrous… ”

~Japanese Tales of Lafcadio Hearn

“Strange.”

If I had a digital file of Lafcadio Hearn's Japanese tales, I'd be curious to run a search for how many times this word appears amid his 28 tales. This before-his-time multiculturist’s dark fairy tale work foreshadowed an entire body of unsettling art. 

He anticipated the so-called automatic writing of practitioners such as André Breton, opened receptive minds to Cubism and Surrealism movements of the 1920s and primed the public imagination for the fantastical tales of  H.P. Lovecraft. Lafcadio Hearn successfully navigated multiple cultures, transforming himself from Other to revered father figure/folklorist/historian. In short, he became the hero of his own fairy tale life.


As a fan of the macabre and fantastical, I was drawn to this book as a soul to the quintessentially Japanese cherry blossom (sakura)*. The collection's obsession with strangeness is also why I think it’s accessible to our own generation of culturally fluid, proudly freak flag-flying readers. 

Patrick Lafcadio Hearn, aka Koizumi Yakumo. 1889
Photo by Frederick Gutekunst / Public domain

Japanese readers in 1900 may have been steeped in the Buddhist and Shinto teachings about life’s vagaries, but in 2020, we have our ‘disappearing’ social media to remind us of our impermanence (Snapchat, TikTok, etc.).

Plus, modern readers will appreciate the bite-sized nature of Hearn’s stories. The tales are just that: short “tail ends” of Japanese legends and folklore, which can be quickly digested and enjoyed. Even the opener, which is the longest story in this anthology-of-sorts—“The Dream of a Summer Day” and its Pandora-like box—is only 17 pages. Most of the stories clock in at only a handful of pages. As a whole, they transcend their time, but for a couple zeitgeist themes or tropes that I'll mention later.

Hearn's “Exotic” Tales

These stories, selected by editor Andrei Codrescu, originally introduced the Western mind to Japanese culture, as seen through Shinto and Buddhist lenses. The cast of colorful characters and tropes readers encounter include:

• A man who saddles and rides his corpse-wife by clinging to her hair.
• An enchanting screen maiden (an artist's depiction of a woman on a screen) who becomes real.
• A shark-person (Samébito) who weeps blood that turns to jewels upon the ground.
• A samurai-beloved young woman named Aoyagi who experiences a metamorphic twist of fate.
•  A priest who is transformed into a Golden Carp.
• An unwitting entertainer for the dead, in the oft-cited ghost story, “The Story of Mimi-Nashi-Hōichi”.**

If one thing prevails in this collection, it is this: all is not what it seems, for everything is changing. Constantly. And because everything is in a state of flux, all does not necessarily end well. So, dear reader, do not expect the happily-ever-afters of heavily modernized and Westernized fairy tales. Hearn had his finger on the pulse of the unsettling. Let's briefly explore why that might be.

Lafcadio Hearn: Other from Another Mother

Hearn and Koizumi Setsu.
Unknown photographer in Japan pre-1904 / Public domain

It is not a surprise that Patrick Lafcadio Hearn (1850 – 1904) wrote from a position of Other, considering how he became entangled with his parents' inner demons as a child. He bounced from his mother’s homeland of Greece to his father’s home in Ireland. Both parents eventually abandoned him. 

At age 7, he became a permanent ward of his aunt. By the time he was 19, he was virtually penniless but on his way to America. After spending some time in Cincinnati, Ohio, and a decade in New Orleans, he finally settled in Japan for the last 14 years of his life. He married a Japanese woman and started a family.

“[Hearn] never returned to the womb of his mother's Lefkada [Greece] but found himself at home in a patriarchal world where he was a Father, unlike his own genitor.” 

-Andrei Codrescu, Editor of Japanese Tales of Lafcadio Hearn

It’s impossible not to view these stories through a modern lens. And that lens uncovers glaring threads of patriarchy and age-ism. And while Hearn’s position as an esteemed member of society was hard won, his privilege is reflected in his many elitist characters.  I don't doubt that Hearn (called Mr. Koizumi while he wrote these stories) was a product of his time. But it’s still problematic when the women who appear in these tales exist along a binary. If they’re human, they’re generally preternaturally beautiful, young, graceful, and self-sacrificing—like any “good” Japanese wife of the Hearn’s time. Conversely, they can also be ugly, vain, unpleasant hags. The non-human women are supernaturally monstrous “Yuki-Onna” (White Witch) and often violent.

Yuki-onna by Sawaki Suushi / Public domain

A perfect example is the farmer's wife in “Of a Mirror and a Bell.” She covets the return of her bronze mirror, which had been given for melting down to make a temple bell, but it, alone among the mirrors, would not melt. In short, it was magically imbued with the woman's anger and covetousness. Hearn even reminds readers of the supposed old saying, “a mirror is the soul of a woman.”

One positive tale in which the woman's value is not dependent on her beauty, but perhaps her duty, introduces a milk nurse named O-Sodé who asks a divinity to trade her life for that of the now-sick girl she'd nursed 15 years earlier. In her remembrance, the family of the saved girl plants the best cherry tree they can find (“Ubazakura,” or “Cherry tree of the Milk Nurse” which has flowers of white and pink).

Men, in these tales, especially those of the samurai or priestly class, were generally treated more favorably, with wider character variation among both human men and divinities or magical beings.

Lafcadio Hearn in the 21st Century

Beyond the aforementioned shortcomings, however, I see much to enjoy in this cross-cultural experience of reading Hearn. In some ways, I can vicariously commune with Japanese culture through him. I was also pleasantly surprised to see parallels between the myths and legends of other cultures. Here are a few I picked up:

• “The Story of Aoyagi” (Aoyagi means green willow) could find (new/old) fans of Edith Hamilton, Bulfinch et al, in its parallels with several Greco-Roman stories such as those of the united-in-death lovers Baucis and Philemon, or oak and linden.
• “The Story of Kwashin Koji”: In this tale, a religious painting seems to undulate and show real, flowing blood. This recalls stories such as Wilde's “The Picture of Dorian Gray” or the Greek myth of Pygmalion and Galatea.
• In “Hi-Mawari,” a boy and his older friend (Robert, age 8) search for Welsh fairy rings but instead encounter a harper. The harper's music is said to be witchcraft. Fans of Greco-Roman mythology will quickly be reminded of the magical musician, Orpheus, who used a song to win his wife back from Hades.

All is Unreality—Even Us

Woodblock print of cherry blossom
"Thirty-six Views of Mount Fuji"
by Hiroshige / Public domain

It would be too simple to reduce Lafcadio Hearn to a purveyor of the strange, predicting the 20th century’s modernism and political upheavals. I like to think of Hearn's work as living and breathing, even in its preoccupation with the impermanence of life.

The collection will appeal to all lovers of uncanny short stories, from Poe to Neil Gaiman. Furthermore, the curious black and white illustrations of flying severed heads, faceless women, samurai, etc. will appeal to fans of anime and manga, I think. This volume also could draw in readers who appreciate the reverence for nature beyond simply the national symbol of the sakura (cherry blossom). “The Story of Aoyagi” is tailor-made for those who decry the cutting of forests.

Read the tales within Japanese Tale of Lafcadio Hearn. Even its foreword (by Jack Zipes) and introduction (Codrescu) are accessible to non-academics. Just remember—in the words of 14th century Buddhist priest Kenko: “All is unreality. Nothing is worth discussing, worth desiring.”

Japanese Tale of Lafcadio Hearn can be purchased on Amazon or via the Princeton University Press' website. It's part of Princeton's "Oddly Modern Fairy Tales" series.

Read our review of another book in this series: Workers' Tales: Socialist Fairy Tales, Fables, and Allegories from Great Britain. 




FOOTNOTES
*Modern novelist, Hanya Yanagihara, wrote in a recent essay in The New York Times Style Magazine, that “Japan without the cherry blossom is like a person without a head: The image is wrong, inconceivable.”

**From Hearn's Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things (1904)


ABOUT THE REVIEWER:
Leigh Smith writes strange tales herself, mostly under the pseudonym Leigh Ward-Smith. In the real world, she writes marketing copy, curates/manages social media for an architectural firm, and does research and editing for a retired professor. She occasionally blogs at Leigh's Wordsmithery (https://leighswordsmithery.wordpress.com/); likewise the occasional tweet @1WomanWordsmith.

The Mattress Tests Of Lords and Tinkers, Shrews and Peas

'The Princess And The Pea' by Louise Montillio

A passage from the ballad-folktale "Lord For A Day" caught our eye this week and, though it's not meant to be an important part of the text, it got us thinking about mattresses and peas; that is, tests of nobility or worthiness. Here is the passage, with a little context:

... the Khalif went in to the women of the palace, who came to him, and he said to them, "Whenas yonder sleeper awaketh tomorrow... say to him "Thou art the Khalif." ...
Then the rest of the women of the palace came all to him and lifted him into a sitting posture, when he found himself upon a couch, stuffed all with floss-silk and raised a cubit's height from the ground*. 

*That is, a mattress eighteen inches thick.

*** 

So in this tale, a man sitting on a pile of mattresses, or a very high mattress, is supposed to be 'proof' of royalty? (Even if, in this case, it's set up falsely.)

Where is the next step of proof with the 'pea'? Why is it girls in tales always have to provide the pudding whereas men just get to eat it?

In The Real Princess, the bedraggled girl is immediately assumed to be falsifying her identity, to be common, and must prove she is royal - at physical cost to herself. In Lord For A Day, the ruse is getting a beggar to believe he is rich, then not, then rich again by turns. He is released from this weird torment because he makes the nobleman laugh. Despite being the butt of the joke, he ends up wealthier than he ever was and becomes a part of the noble's household. In The Real Princess, she is "black and blue" before she is accepted to be the person she says, and actually, is - a princess. She is "tamed" before being able to resume her station and be eligible for a new one (royal bride). The man is "freed" before bring raised to his.

Taming of the Shrew by Willy Pogany

Interesting that the Lord For A Day tale/ballad is considered one of the folkloric sources for The Taming of the Shrew. All of the other folktales that this play of Shakespeare's is based on are difficult to read because they are so very cruel; actively, sometimes viciously, stripping a woman of all individuality, autonomy and agency (not dissimilar to what happened to the Real Princess, by some interpretations). Why Lord For A Day, came back around to be used as commentary on suppressing the rights of a potential wife, is worth considering all by itself. The contrast between a man and a woman being raised/accepted in their station, gives great pause for thought, especially as Shakespeare uses a good part of Lord for A Day at the opening of Shrew; a direct set-up for the plot to come.

It's also interesting that most readings of Katherine have her as "feisty" (a word which in essence means the weaker, underdog naturally fights against convention and against the odds), even bawdy, and Hans Andersen's tale of the rain-soaked princess can also be read as feisty and (very) bawdy too.

An interesting note on Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew:

Stephen Roy Miller argues that “Shakespeare was not adapting the folktale straightforwardly, but ironically” (1998, 14). He points to the changes that make Petruchio less of a violent ogre than the folktale husband, and concludes that “Shakespeare overwrites the ‘old testament’ of Type 901 with the ‘new testament’ of domestic relations,” a humanist emphasis on eschewing domestic physical abuse (Miller 1998, 14). Shakespeare alters the traditional shrew-taming tale, like and through Katherine (and Petruchio, who is constantly performing as tamer), by following it closely and overenthusiastically, caricaturing it. (Extract from paper by Charlotte Artese 2009, quoting Miller, The Taming of a Shrew: The 1594 Quarto, 1998)

Petruccios Hochzeit (Petruccio's Wedding) by Carl Gehrts

Given the connections between Shrew, Real Princess and the folktale sources for Shrew, and the fact that Shakespeare is generally thought to be running social commentary on old and new relations between men and women by use of parody and exaggeration, it makes us wonder if Andersen was making (subconscious?) reference to this story group Shakespeare's play used in Taming of the Shrew, to do his own form of 'story taming'? Or, was he, in complete contrast, making his own caricature of these still entrenched conventions in society, having his own commentary safely hidden within a 'proper' tale of correctness and the required fragility of noblewomen?

We never made a connection between The Taming of the Shrew and the Princess and the Pea before. Now we cannot disconnect them.

Note: We are currently reading Shakespeare and the Folktale: An Anthology of Stories by Charlotte Artese. We hope to put up a review of the whole anthology soon, but at this moment we can tell you that this is a very interesting read so far and great food for thought. Obviously, Andersen's The Real Princess a.k.a. The Princess and the Pea, was written many years after Shakespeare's time and has no bearing on the Bard's writing. The speculation above came out of reading the book below (and a little further afield) and wondering if Shakespeare, in turn, had an influence on Andersen for the famous mattress tale. The two short extracts below sum up extremely well what we are enjoying about this book and why it's worth a read for people who love fairy tales and folklore - even if you're a little rusty on your Shakespeare.

From Charlotte Artese's Shakespeare and the Folktale: An Anthology Of Stories:

Folktales often served as common ground in Shakespeare’s theater. The playwright and some members of his audience would have read literary versions of a play’s folktale source, and those who could not read might have heard those tales told. In our own culture, when a movie or television show (or short story or novel) adapts a fairy tale, the creator knows the expectations the audience will bring, and the audience knows that the creator knows. The audience waits to see how this version of a well-known story will conform to tradition and how it will vary. Will Red Riding Hood fall in love with the wolf? Will the evil fairy repent and rescue Sleeping Beauty? When we learn the folktale traditions that Shakespeare adapts, we can join this interplay between playwright and audience. 

Belsey+ concludes that the resemblances between Shakespeare’s plays and folk narratives help to explain Shakespeare’s place at the center of the Western literary canon. By absorbing the narrative traditions on which Shakespeare drew, we may peer into the heart of what makes him great: a profound connection to his audiences through the centuries and around the world.

+Catherine Belsey (author of Why Shakespeare? 2007), quoted in Artese's introduction to the volume.

Review: Workers' Tales (Socialist Fairy Tales, Fables, and Allegories from Great Britain)

(Review written by Tahlia Merrill Kirk)

Most people don’t associate fairy tales with political agendas, so you might be thinking, "What the heck are socialist fairy tales?!”. But when you think about it, it’s not that big of a stretch. If I started telling you about how some fairy tales have been used as serving spoons for moral ideology, you’d probably nod along knowingly. It seems to me like a natural next step for them to be turned into vessels for political agendas. But what does that even look like? Well, you’re about to find out!

Before we go any further, let’s define socialism, since it has the potential to be a little controversial.

There are many kinds of socialism. But in all types, the workers of a society own the means of production (if that sounds vague, click the link for a more detailed description).

Now, there are lots of different flavors of socialism. Probably the most famous is communism, which has no state, money, or social classes. Other variations mix socialism and capitalism by having the government collecting tax money to spend on public services like schools or roads.

This particular collection of stories was collected roughly between 1870 - 1910 from magazines and newspapers printed in Great Britain. And in case 1870 - 1910 doesn’t mean much to you, here are some historical reference points:

• 1850 = Marx’s The Communist Manifesto published.
• 1865 = Early Days of Women’s Suffrage Movement in the UK (right to vote won in 1918)
• 1870 = The death of Charles Dickens.
• 1887 = First Sherlock Holmes story published.
• 1901 = Death of Queen Victoria
• 1912 = Sinking of the Titanic (and the start of Downton Abbey)
• 1914 = World War I starts.

Got it?

Don't worry, Ron. We're getting to the fun stuff soon.

Alright, now we’ve gotten that out of the way, let’s talk about the juicy stuff. Like how jarring I found some of these tales. I’d been expecting magical adventure stories with subtle winks about governing quietly slipped in. Maybe a Hansel & Gretel style tale where the Gingerbread House is a state-run orphanage that needs reforming.

Evil moustache-twirling Monopoly is coming out to get you!

Hah! Nothing could have been further from what I found. Out forty-seven tales, nearly all of them were didactic to the point where I questioned if they even fit the definition of a fairy tale anymore. Some had such heavy-handed economic messages that they felt akin to reading a political cartoon. Others were pure allegory, like an economic Pilgrim’s Progress. These threw subtlety into the rubbish bin, and stuck their characters with names like “Capital” and “Fair Trade”. About halfway through the book, I started noticing a pattern…

Here’s the gist of several stories: A hardworking everyman (ie “Labor”) meets a smooth-talking villain (ie “Monopoly”) who tricks the simple man into becoming a slave. Often, the plot is drawn out by the protagonist’s attempt to nicely voice his complaints. The villain always pretends to listen, and will offer him institutionalized religion or a complex government as a way of pacifying him. But these are all mere tricks to prolong his enslavement. The endings vary, but any solutions the writers propose lack nuance to their logic.

Now, it might sound like I’m complaining, but actually, I found this whole collection highly entertaining and genuinely thought-provoking. Yes, I'm criticizing, but not with the intention of discouraging readers. I’ll make sure to delve into this collection’s many merits later, but I can't resist giving them a good-natured roasting first!

Do all frogs go to heaven?

So, on top of being overbearingly pedantic, these stories also have a cringeworthy sentimental streak.

For example, in “Chips”, a homeless child works as a street sweeper. His only companion in the freezing winter slums of London? A pet frog, of course! Well, until the frog dies from hunger and cold. Our poor destitute boy dies shortly after--with many flowery descriptions of his pitiful state. Cue an angelic spirit, floating down from heaven. The spirit teaches the dead boy a lesson about God and love before the boy’s soul ascends to heaven. It was all very Tiny Tim meets The Little Match Girl.

Similarly, in “Nobody’s Business”, a poor old man dies alone from hunger in a bustling city. After he dies, his soul flies to heaven and God frowns upon the city. He points out that the city is prosperous and builds many churches, but the citizens are hypocritical, greedy, and don’t help those in need. Now, I'm not saying the message isn't a good one (it totally is), but both these tales feel like someone used a mad-libs list of story elements that provoke emotion and plugged them into a sob story writing machine.

Worse, they blatantly romanticize poverty, as if being poor and elderly, or an orphan, are sacred states. Chips is an innocent youth and "Nobody's Business" goes to great lengths to paint a pitiful picture of the old man’s innocence and suffering.

Do these writers think that poverty somehow purifies the soul? Because that’s how it comes across. Maybe the logic goes like this: Power and riches always lead to corruption, so therefore, poverty has a cleansing effect on your character? After all, a simple life is the best life--

Wait, stop. Let's stop trying to transform being poor into some inspirational poster. Nobody who has ever been truly poor would ever describe their experience as sublime or purifying. Sure, being poor might make you grateful for the little things in life, but sheesh, let’s not full on glamorize something that just plain out sucks.

Besides, I feel like we should help the poor because they’re fellow human beings, not because you believe they're paragons of virtue, right?

*sigh*

This review is becoming more difficult to write than I anticipated. I swear, I’m trying to balance the topics’ complexities without rambling too much.

I'll be honest: I had a whole rant prepared about the romanticization of the country vs the city. And I also had some strong words about the treatment of the female characters (they're always beautiful angelic figures of grace and piety). But I don't think it's necessary. I've ranted enough today.

Instead, let's take a step back. I think this quote does a pretty good job of summarizing what's going on in these fairy tales:

“This is socialism at its most hopeful, perhaps at its most innocent, untouched by world war, Stalinism, or the Holocaust.”

Every time I started getting frustrated with these tales, I found this sentence running through my brain. Despite their flaws, these tales are earnest and are written with a sincere intent to make the world a better place. And let's not forget that fairy tales aren’t usually designed to be complex. That is part of their charm. So many of my complaints are simply a tied to the nature of the genre.

This collection is a great example of how the very thing that makes a fairy tale problematic, can be the same thing that makes it so fascinating. While the fairy tales in this collection may have an agenda, the modern editors who collected them do not. If you already have opinions on socialism, this book isn't designed to reinforce or change them. Instead, this book will make you think, and it will make you want to share it with your friends so you can discuss it.




You can purchase a copy of Workers' Tales: Socialist Fairy Tales, Fables, and Allegories from Great Britain directly from the Princeton University Press website or on Amazon. There is also an excellent audiobook version (which is what I used for this review). A free copy of this book was provided in exchange for an honest review.