Mr Shintaro Ishihara was the Goethe of Japan. I was his pupil, someone in the same profession, and his escort runner. In this chapter, I have woven together more of my private recollections, spanning as long as twenty-plus years, and "my unfulfilled promise" to him. ー Shin Ushijima
Chapter 4.1: Poetry ー The Start
Read other chapters in My Mentor, Shintaro Ishihara
I dined with Shintaro Ishihara many times. We would sometimes have lunch at the City Club of Tokyo, but more often, we had dinner together.
Fureika, a Chinese restaurant in Higashi Azabu, was where we first had dinner together. Mr Toru Kenjo of the publishing house Gentosha invited us to the restaurant. Was it our first encounter? Then it must have been at that restaurant that he kindly corrected the spelling of "Nathaniel" to "Nathanael," carefully by hand on my calligraphy sheet with a passage from Fruits of the Earth by André Gide.
Checking again later, however, it seems that the first time we shared a meal was at the City Club of Tokyo. If so, that must have been where Mr Ishihara corrected my spelling error on Gide's poem.
Perhaps it was then, or possibly a little afterward, that Ishihara remarked, "Ushijima-san, you're charming." Am I charming? I had never thought so. Instead, I was oddly embarrassed by his remark. In what way did I seem charming to Mr Ishihara? Whatever the reason, I heard the word "charming" coming out of Mr Ishihara's mouth many times.
Close to ten years later, I was invited by Mr Ishihara to a Japanese restaurant called Kikukawa in Ginza. Tadao Sakamoto, a well-known, highly-skilled editor at Shinchosha, joined us. However, I still wonder why Mr Ishihara invited me. Did he want to introduce us? I was likely not informed of Mr Sakamoto's presence beforehand.
The Three-Year Age Gap
Ishihara and Sakamoto coauthored and published the book titled Those Were the Good Old Days: A Memoir of Friendships in the Literary World (昔は面白かったな回想の文壇交友録, 2019). Shinchosha was the publisher.
Checking, I found that Mr Sakamoto was born in 1935, while Mr Ishihara was born in 1932. There was a gap of three years between the two, which I hadn't cared about at all at the time. Therefore, I hadn't asked about it.
It was while writing the Preface for my book The Only Way to Survive for Japan (Gentosha Inc, 2022) that I realized the significance of this three-year age gap. There was a one-year age difference between Sukehiro Hirakawa, born in 1931, and Shintaro Ishihara, born in 1932. They knew what Japan was like before its defeat in the war, when both had already reached the age of 13.
I had read in some psychology books that 13 is a very important age in the formation of one's identity.
In the Preface to "The Only Way to Survive for Japan," I also wrote about Ishihara at the age of 13, saying: "At such an early age, Mr Ishihara already recognized Japan as a proud homeland, which existed in him as a part of his identity."
I followed with my impressions of Professor Sukehiro Hirakawa and Mr Ishihara, on the one hand, and the younger Kenzaburo Oe and Shuji Terayama on the other.
Dinner in Ginza
The dinner at the Ginza restaurant Kikukawa took place on Thursday, October 4, 2007. Two days earlier, at 1:54 PM on October 2, I received a fax with directions to the restaurant. The fax gave the address: 6-4-12, Ginza, Chuo-ku, and the telephone number. However, somehow, the simple map had handwritten names added, such as Café 25, Rim, and Restaurant Takamatsu. Meanwhile, the restaurant ー Kikukawa ー was properly printed on it, so perhaps it was a map with directions provided by the establishment.
I thought so because the restaurant was located at the end of a narrow lane, so narrow, in fact, that my driver only tentatively said we must have arrived. There I found a time-honored, dignified, and beautifully structured Japanese inn.
As the last to arrive at the restaurant, I remember vaguely apologizing for being late. In those days, I must have been as busy professionally as I am now. If I remember correctly, I was delayed by a scandal at a large financial institution and, therefore, was not able to make it at the appointed time of 6:30 PM. But neither of them cared a bit about my late arrival. Instead, Mr Ishihara said instantly, "Anyway, please be seated."
The room had only tatami mats. There were no trendy sunken kotatsu (tables with heated leg space) or standard tables. Instead, a small zen (low dining table) was placed in front of each of us.
Naturally, Mr Ishihara seemed to be a regular customer, I gathered from listening to a conversation between him and the middle-aged female proprietress.
That Type of Japanese Restaurant
Suddenly, for no particular reason, I recalled a passage from his book, Season of the Sun (Shinchosha, 1957).
At the beginning of Season of the Sun, Ishihara writes, "Tatsuya was as strongly attracted to Eiko as he was to pugilism." (P 8) I had not heard the word "pugilism" for a long time.
The story follows Tatsuya Tsugawa, the protagonist, who goes to Niigata for a boxing training camp. After a while, he returns to Tokyo, where his lover, Eiko, comes to Ueno Station to meet him. At the time ー until just recently ー trains from Niigata to Tokyo arrived at Ueno, not Tokyo Station.
Eiko asks Tatsuya to spare enough time to talk with her, but he replies, "No, let's grab something to eat somewhere," and takes her to a Japanese restaurant that his father used to frequent. After returning from Niigata for the first time in a while, the hustle and bustle of Tokyo feels nostalgic…
They were ushered into a room, where Tatsuya, leaning on an armrest, asked, " Is everything okay? How is my brother doing?" (Pp 69–70). The story continues with similar scenes.
When Mr Ishihara invited me to Kikukawa, I thought perhaps this was the type of Japanese restaurant that Tatsuya's father frequented in the story. An armrest was likely placed beside each customer. The protagonist, Tatsuya, is a high school student. Mr Ishihara may have written the novel based on the adolescent experiences of his brother, Yujiro, or one of his friends.
I read "Season of the Sun" as a junior high school student, and this scene left an unusually strong impression on me.
'True Colors of the Man'
Mr Ishihara gently told me to be seated. As I apologized for being late for the appointed time, I knelt and bowed with both hands on the tatami. Mr Ishihara immediately introduced Mr Sakamoto to me, and then our dinner started.
Of course, I knew who Mr Sakamoto was. He was a famous editor, and Mr Ishihara had previously mentioned that he would like to introduce us. But it was at Kikukawa that I met him in person for the first time.
Later, I sent my book The True Colors of the Man (あの男の正体, by Gentosha, 2016). And in return, he kindly sent me a thank-you postcard saying that he had read the Afterword first, and that it was characteristic of Gentosha to have chosen the commentator from among business acquaintances.
After consulting with Gentosha, I had intentionally asked Mr Hiroshi Inagaki to write the commentary. Various reports indicated he had sold the most records and CDs in Japan. I had met Mr Inagaki for the first time as an attorney for an overseas parent company, when I had to face off against him, the top executive of its subsidiary. After that, we served as directors of Avex Inc, and had been on good terms for a long time.
Mr Sakamoto's postcard contained warm words for my writing activities and said that he was much moved that Mr Ishihara "still has ingenuity to create novels."
Twinges of Regret
Unfortunately, Mr Sakamoto has joined the majority. His death came just before that of Mr Ishihara. I really regret not having returned their many favors.
"You've written a good read."
Even now, I wonder how my life would have differed had I never earned that smile from Mr Ishihara. What should I have done to show my appreciation for his efforts? I still feel a twinge of regret.
Find the Table of Contents
(To read the book in Japanese, please visit the publisher's website.)
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Author: Shin Ushijima
