Izumi Hoshi
Born in Chiba prefecture in 1967, Izumi holds a doctorate in literature and is a professor specializing in Tibetan language and linguistics. Since 1997, she has been working at the Research Institute for Languages and Cultures of Asia and Africa, Tokyo University of Foreign Studies. While continuing her research in the Tibetan language, she introduces Tibetan literature and films. She wrote and edited the Dictionary of Tibetan Pastoralism. She translated works such as Tales of the Golden Corpse, and Sunlight on the Path, Waiting for Snow by Lhacham Gyal. She co-translated Fantasy Short Stories from Tibet, Here Too Is a Strongly Beating Heart by Döndrub Gyal, The Search by Pema Tseden, A Story about Raising a Pet Dog by Tagbum Gyal, The Valley of Black Foxes by Tsering Döndrub. She is the editor-in-chief of Sernya: Tibetan Literature and Filmmaking.

Izumi Hoshi, a Tibetan researcher and translator, says that Tibetan literary works are very effective in capturing the feelings of people living in the contemporary era. It is often difficult to understand the daily lives of Tibetans because news reports are never sufficient to understand what people are feeling and what they are doing in their daily lives. On the other hand, Tibetan literary works skillfully depict the sentiments of people and many Japanese readers say, “Tibetan stories transcend religious and racial boundaries. We can relate to these stories as they give us clues on how we can deepen compassion, humor, and understanding of others. It’s something Japanese people living in today’s busy world tend to forget.”

Izumi translated several works of Tibetan literature into Japanese, including White Crane lend me your wings: A Tibetan Tale of Love and War, a full-length historical novel by writer and exiled Tibetan doctor Tsewang Yeshe Pemba, and, Sunlight on the Path, Waiting for Snow, a collection of works, published only in Japan, by Lhacham Gyal (aka Lhashamgyal), a leading figure in contemporary Tibetan literature. The short story “Faraway Sakurajima,” set in Japan, and included in Sunlight on the Path, depicts the anguish and struggles of a second-generation Tibetan woman living in exile in Japan who has never set foot on Tibetan soil. In the afterword to the book, Izumi writes, “This work has a powerful message that calls out to lonely young people living in cities for higher education, employment, or migrant work, which is a growing trend in Tibet in recent years.

Lhacham Gyal’s works are introduced as a kind of foreign literature that Japanese people are eager to read these days. However, many Tibetan writers remain unknown, including quite a few female writers and poets. When exposed to different cultures, Tibetan literature demonstrates an intellectual approach that is based on ideas cultivated by the history of persecution and oppression, which are essential for people today living in an era of diversity. We asked Izumi about how Tibetan literature gained the world’s attention and its uniqueness. We also discussed emerging female writers and how Tibetan writers intentionally use Mandarin and Tibetan in their creative process.

On the frontline of creative work, writers carry on the rich oral tradition

–Since the 2010s, Tibetan literature has been translated and published simultaneously in many parts of the world, including Japan. How did this happen?

Izumi Hoshi: Firstly, I’d like to highlight two significant figures in the discussion of contemporary Tibetan literature: Pema Tseden and Tsering Döndrup. This is my assumption, but I believe their engagement with scholars and translators in Japan, France, and the U.S. led to Tibetan literature being translated into different languages around the same time.

Pema was a writer as well as a world-renowned filmmaker. In the late 2000s, he started to work in the film industry, and his work was instantly highly regarded, which led him to work internationally. When I met him at a film festival in 2011, he gave me a copy of his novel. Since it was such an interesting piece, I felt that I wanted to translate it and share it with more people. Initially, I wasn’t planning to translate the book, but Pema contacted me and said, “Someone has started to work on the English translation, and it will be published next year. What about a Japanese translation?” It was my first experience where a writer anticipated a translation from me. I became close enough to him that we would contact each other casually, which led to the translation of his book being published in Japan. I assume the translators, who had received his book at film festivals in France and the U.S., were also drawn to his work and personality. He was the kind of person who brought joy to people around him. When he passed away last May, it was very sad.

The novels of Tsering Döndrup have been translated in New York and Paris. Whenever he releases his latest book, he contacts me. Additionally, he facilitates opportunities for me to meet with Tibetan researchers and translators, whom he knows, in other countries. This has led to expanding my network around him. Whenever I consult with him, he is very cooperative and responds instantly. He shares valuable information about Tibet. Thanks to these two individuals, who have worked behind the scenes with translators all over the world, we saw books of Tibetan literature being published simultaneously.

In addition to that, alongside the accumulated knowledge and translated books from past Tibetan research, it became much easier to communicate in the Tibetan language in the 2010s. This enabled writers to easily share their work with the world.

–In recent years, it seems that Tibetan literature has been garnering more attention in Japan. What are the characteristics of Tibetan literature?

Izumi: In Tibet, there is a culture that emphasizes storytelling. Tibetan literature was mainly passed down orally, and for the general public, stories were not meant to be read but to be listened to and enjoyed. Because of this background, people highly appreciate storytelling done by individuals using a voice with persuasive words.

I made an online Tibetan-Japanese dictionary with my colleagues called the Dictionary of Tibetan Pastoralism. In this dictionary, there is a term that refers to the nine abilities that men must possess. It lists that men need to be strong, good at swimming, agile, knowledgeable about the history of the land, skilled at telling funny stories and engaging in discussions, knowledgeable and intelligent, patient and brave, and articulate speakers. Five of these abilities are related to speaking. It demonstrates that if a man acquires a deep knowledge of the history of the land and can speak about it, he is considered a fully grown adult.

The Tibetan script is ancient, having been created 1,300 years ago. Due to a long tradition of classical literature being supported by Buddhism, there was no culture of ordinary people reading and writing literature. Instead, they preserved their experiences in their memories by passing them down orally.

Educated in turbulent times, the rare female writers who crafted stories

—One of the fascinating aspects of Tibetan literature, which was introduced in Japan, is the skillful use of proverbs. I hear that proverbs are an integral part of the Tibetan people’s lives, and being able to use them appropriately is a sign of maturity.

Izumi: In Tibet, proverbs are often used in fighting or resolving problems when they arise. In novels, proverbs frequently appear during scenes of conflict. For example, there’s a proverb, “An arrogant dog barks a lot, and an arrogant person speaks a lot.” This is used when you want to assert dominance and defeat your opponent. Essentially, proverbs, which encapsulate truths and outcomes accumulated over time, are used as a basis to justify that what you’re saying is correct. It’s used as a cover to support your point.

Another use of proverbs is as a tool to organize and simplify complex issues that are difficult to understand. When encountering unreasonable events and struggling to comprehend them, it can be overwhelming. In such situations, quoting an old proverb can provide a clue to understanding these events. Proverbs could evoke thoughts such as, “These words have been passed down for many years, so they must hold truth,” or “Similar things happened in the past, so I suppose it’s a common human experience.” This could help people understand the reality that they are facing.

–In Tibetan Women’s Poetry Anthology, which was published in Japan last year, I learned that it has been 40 years since women began publishing contemporary poetry. The book includes poems by seven leading Tibetan female poets born between the 1960s and 1980s. I understand that you consider the works of poets born in the 1960s to be very important.

Izumi: People who were born in the 1960s experienced drastic societal changes during their school days in the late 1970s. Women, who endured the Cultural Revolution in China spanning a decade from 1966, were prohibited from attending school in the 1960s. It wasn’t until 1976 that they were allowed to enroll. However, even then, only a handful of women had the opportunity to attend school, often with the support of their parents. Therefore, anything written by women from this generation is considered extremely precious. For instance, during that time in Tibet, where most Tibetans were engaged in cattle farming and agriculture, parents needed to pass down household skills to their children for survival. Mothers had to train their daughters in household chores so that their families thrived as cattle farmers and survived in the village. To ensure they didn’t miss out on this training, girls were not permitted to attend school.

Moreover, people believed that nothing good would come of it if a girl attended school. Dekyi Dolma, a poet born in 1967, caused a stir in her village when she expressed her desire to attend school. Rumors began to circulate that she might be possessed by a goblin for wanting an education, greatly saddening her. Her father took pity on her as she was determined not to abandon her aspirations. He escorted her to a boarding school on horseback and she could eventually go to school. The girls from this generation had to endure tremendous hardship and make extraordinary efforts to pursue an education.

In terms of creative writing, writers born in the 1960s, both men and women, faced numerous challenges due to the lack of predecessors who composed poems and stories in Tibetan. This was primarily because Tibetan was fundamentally a language for religious purposes and not for expressing the emotions of lay people.

–What was it like to write in Mandarin under circumstances that made it difficult to write in Tibetan?

Izumi: Although they are few in numbers, there are Tibetan women, who received education in Mandarin in the 1960s and 70s, attended secondary schools to universities, and were exposed to Chinese and foreign literature just like men.

In those days, one thing to note is that children of high-ranking officials were given priority to receive school education with the expectation that they would become bureaucrats. Both girls and boys could go to school, which led to Tibetan students enrolling in Beijing University. Among them was a female student who loved storytelling. After graduation, she wrote a novel in Mandarin. At universities in China, they teach the basics of classical Chinese, which probably helped her write a novel. With many predecessors having written novels in Mandarin, it must have inspired her that she could also do the same.

Storytellers thriving between different cultures

–I have heard that there are many full-length novels in Tibetan literature written in Mandarin. What are the reasons Tibetan writers use both Tibetan and Mandarin?

Izumi: Firstly, most Tibetans are bilingual in Tibetan and Mandarin. They cannot survive without using Mandarin, and there are no schools that solely teach Tibetan. Nowadays, thanks to television and the internet, it’s much easier to learn a language. However, Tibetan people were already bilingual before these advancements. Regarding reading and writing, it depends on the type of education you received.

When we look at the writers, some write only in Mandarin or only in Tibetan, and some write in both languages. Those who write in Mandarin typically attended Mandarin secondary schools in China, even though they might have grown up with their parents speaking Tibetan when they were young. In such cases, it was likely that they didn’t have opportunities to learn Tibetan, unless their parents made a concerted effort to teach them. Consequently, they might proceed to university without knowing how to read and write Tibetan. However, their identity remains Tibetan, and they write stories and poems about Tibet in Mandarin.

While this is not a common instance, most writers, who write in Tibetan, went to local schools for Tibetan, located in each prefecture, which teaches Tibetan. They received higher education in Tibetan, enrolled in the Tibetan course at the local university for ethnic minorities, and became writers. The writers who write in Mandarin and Tibetan are Pema Tseden and Tsering Döndrup, whom I have already mentioned. They also do translation between these two languages.

–Even if they are born in the same place, it seems that not only the language but also the knowledge varies greatly depending on the educational paths they chose.

Izumi: The input would be different depending on whether you are educated in Mandarin or Tibetan at a Tibetan school. Especially the exposure to classical works is totally different. The study of the classics creates the groundwork for a person’s education. Even if you grow up in the same location, learning reading and writing through the language education provided by your parents would lead to learning completely different types of expressions.

Pema, whom I have mentioned, attended a Tibetan school but wrote his first novel in Mandarin. This work was published in a literature magazine in Mandarin in the Tibetan Autonomous Region in Lhasa. After receiving high praise, he began to write in Tibetan. However, once he started shooting films in Tibetan, he returned to writing his novels in Mandarin to reach a wider readership among Mandarin speakers.

–Why did some writers insist on writing in Mandarin?

Izumi: Writing in Mandarin would lead to an increase in readership. Due to the educational environment, many Tibetans can only read and write in Mandarin. By writing in Mandarin, writers can reach these readers. Additionally, Tibetans tend to perceive stories as something to be listened to rather than read with their own eyes. I’ve heard that there are radio programs that read novels. During the extended lockdown period of the COVID-19 pandemic, many readings were uploaded on the internet, and a lot of people listened to a wide range of Tibetan classics and contemporary literature. Writers contemplate how to use Tibetan and Mandarin when writing a novel, while readers can choose whether to read or listen to the story. This is the current situation in Tibet.

As a culture that cherishes storytelling in literature, Japan also has similar traditions when it comes to reading classics, such as rakugo. I believe Tibetans enjoy literature in a manner similar to how the Japanese enjoy rakugo. I am considering whether I should adopt the Tibetan way and begin reciting Tibetan literature translated into Japanese.

—In the novel White Crane lend me your wings: A Tibetan Tale of Love and War, which was originally written in English, the term “green-brained” is used in the story. While in English it means environmentally conscious, in Tibetan, it is used to denote ideological corruption or backwardness based on what those two words mean in Tibetan. I understand that you translate a mixed language and words created by writers while also taking into account the conversion between Tibetan and English.

Izumi: Not limited to White Crane, Tibetan writers use parentheses for emphasis and also incorporate Tibetan words that were derived from English or English words influenced by Tibetan. They also treat Tibetans similarly to the English language, freely adopting various linguistic methods. We refer to this as the deterritorialization of languages. It’s not about the Tibetan language being overtaken by the dominant English language, but rather a way of expressing that Tibetan exists within the dominant language.

For example, similar language adaptations are observed in Singaporean English and Indian English when spoken. It demonstrates how a minor language can influence a dominant language. Therefore, even though the book is clearly authored by a Tibetan writer, it contains many expressions that would never be found in the writing of someone who only speaks English.

ーーI learned that there is a plan to publish a full-length novel by a Tibetan woman writer for the first time in Japan soon.

Izumi: In April, a long-form novel titled Flowers and Dreams by Tsering Yangkyi, a female writer, will be published. It tells the story of a sisterhood among four prostitutes working in a nightclub, living together in a small apartment. Despite their traumatic pasts and the sorrowful destiny that awaits them, the novel is written with a warm, protective gaze. Their dialogue is lively, making it feel as if they are right beside you. The novel will be published by Shunjusha Publishing Company as part of the new series Asian Literature Library. I hope readers look forward to it.

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（Left to Right)
Yuriko Mori
Yuriko is a journalist and essayist specializing in Nordic countries. She has written guidebooks, travel essays, and articles about interior design and lifestyle covering five Scandinavian countries. She is the author of『3日でまわる北欧』,『北欧のおもてなし』,『日本で楽しむ わたしの北欧365日』and many other books. She also runs Sticka, a store that sells vintage Scandinavian tableware and textiles.

Junko Aoki
Junko teaches the Norwegian language and also works as a translator, interpreter, and lecturer. She studied at the Volda National College and the University of Oslo in Norway. Since 2000, she has been running the community website Norway Yumenet to provide information about Norway. Junko authored many books including,『テーマで学ぶノルウェー語』,『ノルウェー語のしくみ＜新版＞』,『ニューエクスプレスプラスノルウェー語』,『「その他の外国文学」の翻訳者』. She is a translator of Me and My Moulton and Threads among many other works.
https://www.norway-yumenet.com/

Goedele and Simon
They founded the design studio SAK design and publishing company trykkSAK. As graphic designers, they are involved in the production of books related to art and design. Their goal is to provide opportunities for people to think about current social and political issues through books. Their office is located in the suburbs of Stavanger, Norway, which is also known for its ceramics.
https://trykksakforlag.no/

Turi Gramstad Oliver is a prominent Norwegian artist who has been active since the mid-20th century. Last summer in Norway, a design book Turi was released, chronicling Turi’s lifetime of creative work. The book includes over 500 illustrations and photographs, along with archival images, anecdotes, and insights into her personal life shared with fellow creative collaborators. It was written by Torunn Larsen, a writer and art historian.

In November, Goedele and Simon, the head of the Norwegian design studio and publishing house trykkSAK, which handled the design of the book, visited Japan. Yuriko Mori, a journalist who specializes in Nordic countries, hosted an event titled “Welcome to Cute Norway: The World of Turi and the Enchanting Nordic Design” at her store Sticka, known for carrying Nordic merchandise. Junko Aoki, a translator specializing in Norwegian, joined the event as the interpreter and moderator.

Hugely successful work and the untold agony behind the scenes

The book turi is the result of five years of work by Goedele and Simon, who curated the content from a massive collection of Turi’s works and photographs. They compiled the book while listening to stories from that time, including untold struggles that Turi experienced. With a wealth of life experiences, she still has so many stories to share that there are plans to publish several more books.

At the event, the speakers discussed the history of Turi from the time she was an in-house designer for a traditional ceramics manufacturer Figgjo, which is located in a town with the same name in southwestern Norway. Turi designed the Lotte collection, which became a long-standing bestseller all over the world after it was launched in 1962. They say the popularity lies in the designs featuring charming girls and plants, which evoke scenes from a novel. However, Turi didn’t intend to create a story out of her design work. After the product line was launched, an enthusiastic fan wrote a letter asking, “What kind of story exists in Lotte?” Turi replied, “I am not trying to tell a story. I just want people to imagine dreamy places filled with birds and flowers and relax.”

After the full-scale overseas export of the Lotte collection began, the Figgjo brand quickly gained recognition in Japan, Canada, and other countries. While the brand became known worldwide, Turi left Figgjo in 1975 due to conflicts with branding strategy that prioritized sales. She created the prototype of the Elvira collection, which gained popularity over the objections of the sales department, and although sales were strong, it was not well received within the company.

Although crafts were not highly regarded as fine art in Norway at the time, Turi continued to produce handicrafts. After leaving Figgjo, she worked with local artists and produced a number of works in an effort to improve the value of handicrafts. As a result, the textiles she produced in her atelier were recognized as crafts.

Turi also worked energetically as a feminist, along with potters and teachers. According to the book, Sandnes, located in southwestern Norway, is known as where many feminists in this movement emerged. The Sandnes chapter of the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (WILPF), the oldest women’s peace organization in the world, founded in 1915, displays a sign by Turi, “Release a Peace.”

Discovering Mingei in Japan

On her first visit to Japan in 1978, Turi, along with 23 other Norwegian artists, participated in the World Crafts Council General Assembly and International Conference in Kyoto. The conference featured 25,400 crafts exhibits, seminars, and workshops with 2,400 experts from around the world. In her diary, Turi wrote about a garden party attended by 2,000 people and her visit to the Shigaraki Pottery Village in Shiga Prefecture, where she was welcomed with two tons of clay.

The most exciting part of her trip to Japan was a visit to the Mashiko kiln of Shoji Hamada, one of the most important figures in the Mingei movement. Although permission to visit the kiln had not been granted, Hamada’s son allowed Turi to see the kiln because he saw that Turi and her group had the hands of a potter. Turi was not only inspired by pottery, but also traditional Japanese craftsmanship and artisanal techniques, showcasing their respect for nature yet maintaining practicality.

Inspiration from this trip led to the tapestry work My Japanese Garden (Minejapans Bager), and she also designed textiles with a Japanese theme. Furthermore, when she visited the home of artist Kanjiro Kawai, she was inspired by his poetic view of life in the English-language book We Do Not Work Alone and wrote a short poem: “What is beauty But joy found In all of life.” This is included in the turi book.

Reminiscing about the turi book production and Turi’s reputation in Japan

Goedele and Simon from trykkSAK said, “Through the creation of turi, we felt a high level of professionalism. Despite the many trials Turi went through as a woman and as a designer, the designs she created did not show the difficult part and depicted a joyful world.” Turi’s creative spirit has not waned to this day, and she has never stopped painting. They mentioned that she was planning to go to Oslo for the major exhibition of Louise Bourgeois’ work at the Norwegian National Museum. There is a telling episode about her life. While producing work, Turi always had a constant flow of visitors at her house to the point that the chimes never stopped ringing. Perhaps her love of meeting people and her gregarious nature, which entertained and brightened up people no matter how hard things were, is reflected in her designs.

A Norwegian student whom the pair from trykkSAK met in Tokyo a few days before the event had never heard of Turi. However, when the student saw the design of the tableware, he remembered seeing them at her grandmother’s house. Junko noted that tableware designed by Turi is often used as wedding gifts in Norway, but many people do not even know the designer’s name. Junko was also surprised that this was the first time that a design book about Turi’s work was published. She expressed her admiration that Turi continued her activities in the suburb of Sandnes away from the capital Oslo, and still her achievements were recognized globally even before the Internet. Junko, who has translated many Norwegian picture books, mentioned the difficulty in conveying the appeal of picture books to Japanese readers due to the aesthetic difference between what is considered cute in Norway and Japan and praised the high quality of Turi’s designs, which are loved in Japan.

Yuriko, who contributed to the book turi, is a big fan of Turi’s works. She also has customers, who often visit her store Sticka, and tell her that they have been using tableware from the Lotte series since the time of their grandmother or mother, confirming that Turi’s works have long been loved in Japan. According to Yuriko, who has been visiting Nordic countries for many years as a journalist and buyer of vintage items, Turi is a special presence. While Norwegian design is still not well known in Japan, many customers are interested in Turi’s work. Some people have become interested in Nordic design and vintage products because of her. She concluded that while many people generally associate Nordic design with modern furniture and simple interiors, the free, lovely world surrounded by nature created by Turi may also overlap with the image of Nordic countries that Japanese people have in their minds.

The post Why the World Can’t Have Enough of Norwegian Product Design appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

In Aquarium, the book portrays the daily life of a young girl whose mother is a goldfish in a realistic way. The girl cares for her mother in a fish tank, always staying in proximity. Her friends don’t believe that her mother is a goldfish. One day, when the school hands out an invitation for her parents to come to school, the girl tries to take her mother with her in a bag with water. However, the water spills from the bag and the mother almost dies. Alarmed by the experience, the girl stays by the tank, can no longer eat and stops going to school. One day, the teacher, out of concern, visits the girl and brings food for her. While they are eating together, the teacher says, “Your mother is lovely,” and the story ends.

When the book was published in 2014, young carers were not widely recognized, and it portrayed a parent, who could not raise her child, as a goldfish. Revisiting the book, the characterization clearly conveys that the artist wanted to portray the existence of young carers.

While dealing with a serious subject matter, the illustrations provide a sense of hope and salvation at the end. The ability to convey warmth is the unique aspect of picture books.

The world is starting to pay attention to picture books in Norway, which deal with social issues and diversity from the forefront—topics that are rarely addressed in Japan. We interviewed Gro Dahle, the author of Aquarium and Junko Aoki, who translated the picture book Me and My Moulton and Threads by Torill Kove. Torill is an internationally acclaimed animation film director and won the Academy Award for Animated Short Film in 2007. We asked them about the appeal of Norwegian picture books and their thoughts on working on them.

Junko Aoki
Junko teaches the Norwegian language and also works as a translator, interpreter, and lecturer. She studied at the Volda National College and the University of Oslo in Norway. Since 2000, she has been running the community website “Norway Dream Net” to provide information about Norway. Junko authored many books including『ノルウェー語のしくみ＜新版＞』『ニューエクスプレスプラスノルウェー語』『「その他の外国文学」の翻訳者』. She is a translator of Me and My Moulton and Threads among many other works.

Gro Dahle
Gro Dahle is a poet and author, born in Oslo, Norway in 1962. She graduated from the University of Oslo and has studied creative writing at the Telemark University College. In 1987, she debuted with Audiens (Audience)—a poetry collection that was very well received. She has since become a very well-known lyricist and novelist. She lives in Tjøme in Vestfold with her husband, Svein Nyhus.

Asking “what if” upon constructing narrative expands imagination

–How did you end up translating the picture books by Torill Kove?

Junko Aoki: It all started when I saw Torill’s animated short film My Grandma Ironed the King’s Shirt on a TV program in Japan. The film is a fictionalized depiction of when Norway became independent in 1905 and chose monarchy in a referendum. As a result, Prince Karl of Denmark was welcomed as King Hakon VII of Norway along with Queen Maud. In those days, servants did not yet exist in Norway, and the royal family’s problem was that no one ironed their shirts. Then an elderly woman became a dedicated staff to iron the King’s shirts, but Norway was occupied by the Germans during World War II.

The King and his family fled to England, but called on the Norwegian people to resist the German troops on the radio. The elderly woman, who loved the king, and her friends demonstrated their resistance by making holes with their irons or adding stains on the German soldiers’ uniforms. In the end, the people defied the occupation and the German soldiers withdrew. The King and his family returned safely to Norway.

Historically speaking, the resistance movement was not the single cause, which prompted the Nazis to retreat. And it was mostly men who were involved in leading the resistance movement. However, in the book, the author wanted to illustrate women such as the elderly woman and other fellow cleaning women who resisted the Nazis in their own way to take revenge on the Germans. Even if they are not recognized in Norwegian history, it’s a fact that these nameless women also joined the resistance. Since then, I read all the books by Torill whenever they were published in Norway.

–There is another book by Torill, Threads, which is popular among Japanese readers. It depicts the relationship between an adult and a child who meet each other by a red thread. A young girl catches the thread hanging from the sky and flies through the sky. She meets an infant and they grow up together as mother and child. In the end, the main character’s daughter follows the thread and becomes independent and all of this is expressed almost exclusively in illustrations.

Junko: The story is an adventure that starts when the main character stretches her hand and grabs a thread. The animation received high praise, including an award of excellence at the Hiroshima International Animation Festival. I think Torill was compelled to produce this work after adopting a child from Asia, and the theme is the connection between people that is not related by blood. There are people of all skin colors in the scenes where the child plays, and the book does not make any reference to nationality or race, making it easy for anyone in the world to read and feel an emotional connection. Torill said, “In this book, the setting is a mother and daughter, but I want the reader to imagine freely without being bound by that setting.” The story gives us a sense that it is possible to connect with people regardless of gender and race.

–In Japan, picture books often have a target age range.  However, I gathered that picture books in Norway are intended for all ages and that there is also a tradition of giving picture books as gifts among grownups.

Junko: In bookstores in Norway, picture books are not categorized by age, giving the impression that both children and grownups can enjoy reading picture books. There is also an environment where children are asked for their feedback after reading a picture book in order to foster their independence.

—The Angry Man by Gro Dahle portrays domestic violence by parents from a child’s point of view. Domestic violence is also becoming increasingly serious in Japan, and the book encourages children to seek help. I heard that this book was written based on an episode about children who grew up with domestic violence in Norway having a meeting with King Harald V. As is the case with My Grandma Ironed the King’s Shirt, there seems to be a closeness between the public figures and the people.

Junko: I agree. Some years ago, the King gave a memorable speech. He said, “In Norway, there are boys who like boys and there are girls who like girls.” Not only the King, but the Minister of Foreign Affairs visited the school of a student who sent a letter saying that he was heartbroken about Ukraine. It’s true that the population is small but there are many activities that allow the people to feel closer to their public figures.

In Japan, sexual violence is a huge problem much like in Norway. Many years ago, a politician addressed the matter explicitly on a state-run broadcasting channel, “Has anyone touched your penis?” This was an attempt to reach children, who are victims and needed support. There are many young ministers in their 30s, and when there are role models like them, it generates more interest in politics among children and makes them feel closer to the idea of becoming a politician one day.

When the picture book artists has the mastery to reveal the invisible in their work

—Recently, the term “young carer” has become prevalent in Japan, and I understand that a picture book featuring a child in similar circumstances was published in Norway.

Junko: While making school visits, Gro, the author of Aquarium, has written many books which portrayed social issues that children face. It has touched on situations where girls are forced to be well-behaved and are often burdened with the notion of “being a girl” based on the division of gender roles at home and in society. Her work includes jarring content, such as scenes of violence and sexual content. Gro believes that children have the potential to be receptive to stories.

On the other hand, some parents are wary and try to keep their children away from reading books that are too stimulating. Since it is the grownups who buy picture books for children, it is necessary to change their mindset so that her stories can be brought to the children.

–I have heard that it is common in Norway for well-known mystery writers to write novels for children. Can you tell us what kind of books are available?

Junko: Jo Nesbo, a world-renowned mystery writer whose novels have been translated into Japanese and published in many other languages, has also written many novels for children. Not only him, but other Norwegian writers actively engage in reading sessions at elementary and junior high schools and libraries, so perhaps they are naturally conscious of the need to expose children to authentic art and encourage them to read books. One children’s literature author talked about the amazing inspiration he receives from children, and said that as a result of the interaction, he created stories that anyone could easily understand, which naturally lead to novels for children. Thanks in part to the country’s strong cultural support, there are many opportunities for children to be exposed to the world of high quality narratives.

How rich the reading experience becomes for children often depends on the actions of adults, but I would like Japanese readers to be exposed to Norwegian stories in the form of translations, so that they can learn about the diversity of societies and ways of thinking.

Reasons why a renowned Norwegian author worked on picture books

–Gro, what prompted you to start creating these picture books?

Gro Dahle: I have been a well-established poet and writer of short stories and poetic prose. My work was published at Norway’s largest publishing house, Cappelen Damm, and they invited me to write stories about child neglect. The story centers around a selfish mother who just wants to have fun and her serious daughter who has to do the house chores to keep up the household. Although I received assistance from the publisher, it was a challenging project to get it right. After publishing four children’s books, it became clear to me that I wanted to write for children between the ages of five to 19. I also want to utilize my language skills and creativity to publish books that illuminate dark corners and shadows within children’s minds —harboring secrets and risky experiences they can share with no one.

I want to be there and support children in need and are in situations similar to those of the characters in my books. I hope they can become friends with the characters in my books and learn that they are not alone. I want my books to serve as lights, unlocking the doors in their minds, and dispelling shadows.

–In Aquarium, how did you come up with the idea of turning the mother into a fish?

Gro: My storytelling method revolves around the use of allegory and metaphor. Children up to the age of eleven or twelve typically interpret the story literally. As they get older, they begin to consider the characters’ emotions and relationships, examining psychological thoughts, ethics, values and codes of conduct. Adults compare the narrative to societal structure, authority, power dynamics, and aspects of identity and self-worth, and try to interpret various information by expanding their imagination through language.

In my work, like Aquarium, the allegorical method opens doors to various levels of experience, offering a spectrum of ages and different insights. For instance, the tale of Moa and her fish mom in a glass bowl appears curious and amusing on the surface. Yet, for children between the ages of 13 to 19, it represents the challenges of growing up with a mother incapable of providing essential care. Teenagers can further explore societal, and ethical aspects, drawing parallels between the wet life of a fish to, maybe, living with an alcoholic.

Children who were neglected may have flashbacks of their painful experiences and memories, recognizing signs of neglect depicted in the story. On the other hand, I can indirectly convey to readers who have not yet faced any harsh realities about the existence of these children, who are forced to live in difficult situations. The use of allegory and metaphor can foster various interpretations and discoveries within a single story.

—What are the challenges of writing children’s books?

Gro: The challenge involves maintaining a delicate balance between the adult and child perspectives. Striking a balance in language, aiming for a simplicity that is simultaneously poetic without veering into overly adult territory. This means navigating the fine line between art and psychology/pedagogy, steering clear of becoming too easy or difficult, or too banal and complex.

To achieve this, I draw inspiration from Piaget’s developmental traits of the preoperational mind, characterizing a child’s perception before the age of seven or eight. Children of this age believe in magic and recognize objects and creatures as the outside world, and understand them through a mixture of experience and fantasy. Therefore, I try to incorporate metaphors that attract children’s interest, while making it accessible for younger children and poetic for teenagers.

To craft a story that resonates with readers, I conduct extensive research, including interviews with psychologists and researchers. I also work with therapists, who share insights into the experiences of children growing up in homes with domestic violence or facing abuse.

Children freely express what they feel in words, such as portraying a sexual abuser as an octopus.

When I incorporate actual quotes from children into my story, it lends veracity and authenticity to the dialogue in the books. As a result, it makes the book more insightful and leads to a direct connection with the readers. The reason I take this approach is that I have not experienced anything that casts a dark shadow over my mind. Frequently, children express surprise, asking, “How did you know about me?” when reading characters in books such as The Angry Man, Dragon, or The Octopus. They saw themselves in the characters of the books.

The post Norwegian Picture Books: A Thought-Provoking Read on Diversity and Social Issues for Grownups appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Korean author Kim Byeol-ah compares the food culture from different countries in her essay Eating in the K-Book reading guide 『ちぇっくCHECK　Vol.9』. She wrote, “There is an old saying that the Chinese taste with their tongues, the Japanese taste with their eyes, and the Koreans taste with their stomachs.” She concluded that Korean food is a gastronomic delicacy that must be savored with the heart, and not the tongue. As a cuisine meant to be savored with both the stomach and the heart, one of the tastiest ingredients with umami in Korean food is the traditional fermented seasoning, jang. This includes gochujang (red chili paste), doenjang (soybean paste), and ganjang (soy sauce), all of which are well-known fermented foods in Japan.

To learn about Korean food and fermentation techniques, we met Kim Suehyang, a third-generation Zainichi who has lived in Korea for 26 years and runs Qyun, a café in Seoul, which specializes in fermented foods.

Kim Suehyang
Born in Tokyo, Japan, Kim Suehyang has been living in South Korea for 26 years. While studying in South Korea, she began working as a media coordinator and writer to promote Korean culture in Japan. After launching the Korean culture magazine 『スッカラ』 as a project editor, she is now specializing in Korean food culture. She started the farmers’ market, Marche@, in Seoul, which opened doors to learn about Korean food through Korean farmers in a new way. This led her to expand her interest in grasses, fermentation, bean culture, and native seeds in South Korea. While running a cafe Qyun that focuses on fermentation, she writes about Korean food culture to her audience in Japan and South Korea. She worked as a coordinator for books such as 『食べる旅　韓国むかしの味』、『コウケンテツ　僕の大好きな、ソウルのおいしい店』.
Instagram：@sukkara_seoul, @grocery_cafe_qyun

Korean food culture reveals the ambience of people’s lives

—Doenjang and ganjang both have a strong salty flavor and a bean-like aroma. Could you explain to us about the jang, the fermented seasoning?

Kim Suehyang: One scholar stated that the food in the Korean Peninsula is 120 percent fermented to emphasize that the distinctive feature of all sauces is primarily due to the fermentation of soybeans. Soybean koji called meju, which is a brick of boiled soybeans inoculated with various wild bacteria such as Bacillus subtilis, is placed in a hangari (earthenware jar) along with salt and water. The jar is positioned in the sunniest spot of the house, exposing it to sunlight, rainwater, air, and wind. The liquid strained after fermenting, incorporating various wild bacteria during the fermentation process, becomes ganjang, while the remaining solid is transformed into doenjang. The complex flavors generated through the amalgamation of diverse strains during the fermentation process characterize these condiments. Jang is an indispensable condiment and it is a lump of enzymes rich in soybean proteins.

Cooked and seasoned vegetables are called suche (ripe greens). To get the nutrients from the vegetables efficiently, namul is dressed with garlic, green onions, and jang. Finally, a few drops of sesame or perilla oil and roasted sesame powder are added on top. When all of these ingredients are mixed, it brings out the umami flavor.

In Japan, most people seem to think that namul is seasoned vegetables, however, it is a general term to describe edible plants on the Korean peninsula. Traditionally, vegetables, grasses, and fermented foods are combined in a well-balanced manner to efficiently obtain the necessary nutrients. For example, all plants beneficial to humans, with mugwort and ginseng at the top of the list, have been used as food and medically as traditional Korean medicine.

—In South Korea, I saw rows of large hangari (earthenware jars) in the gardens of temples and ancient palaces. In Japan, fermented foods are kept in a cool, dark place and minimize exposure to air as much as possible, but in South Korea, jars are placed outside, some with glass lids. What are the differences in ingredients and production methods?

Suehyang: The hangari is designed in such a way that airflow can enter through the lid of the jar or the lids can be changed to glass ones to allow light to mix with all the bacteria in the air. On the Korean peninsula, each household made fermented foods using these jars in their own way. Each household had its own koji culture that made full use of the bacteria unique to each family, and homemade fermented foods were indispensable in ceremonies to honor ancestors. Literature shows that from the Goguryeo period, the taste of jang on the Korean peninsula was well known and highly regarded for its high fermentation techniques. That means the peninsula was blessed with the techniques to handle bacteria and the climatic environment to make exquisite jang with the wild bacteria from ancient times.

Japanese miso is made from beans, salt, and rice or barley koji, while jang on the Korean peninsula is made from beans, salt, and water. The Japanese use koji mold, however, on the Korean Peninsula, soybeans are steamed, pounded into clumps to prevent air from entering, and then laid on straw to ripen using a wide variety of natural bacteria to make meju (soybean koji). In Japan, wild bacteria was used originally. However it’s more humid in Japan than on the Korean Peninsula, so it was difficult to control the bacteria in the warmer climate. Therefore, there was a business called Moyashiya that managed the koji. They produce the seed koji, in which koji mold is cultured and dried. If the changes caused by the action of microorganisms are beneficial to humans, they are classified as fermentation and if they are harmful, they are considered putrefaction. Misuse of this can pose risks to human life. So each country has developed its way by choosing fermentation suitable for the climate of the country.

Basically, both ganjang and doenjang are made only with soybeans, and the taste is created by a variety of wild bacteria and the natural environment such as climate and temperature. In Japan, miso is added at the end of making miso soup, but on the Korean peninsula, when making soup with doenjang, it is added from the beginning and simmered to bring out the various tastes and flavors contained in it. The same is true for soups made with ganjang, where the diversity of flavors within the ganjang itself serves as a broth. Sprinkling a few drops of ganjang to boiled vegetables is like adding soup stock, which adds depth to the flavor of the vegetables.

—Many people in Japan buy miso and soy sauce from supermarkets and breweries. Do most people still make them at home in South Korea?

Suehyang: Until our grandmother’s generation, which is just a few decades ago, it was common to make jang at home, but this culture is disappearing due to changes in the housing environment and lifestyles. Jang made by masterful elderly women, who made it all their lives, were turned into branded products and are now available for purchase. Factory-made ganjang and doenjang, which have similar production methods to their Japanese counterparts, became common. The ones made with traditional methods and fermented with wild bacteria are differentiated and called Korean ganjang and Korean doenjang . In today’s Korean diet, traditional jang fermented with wild bacteria and factory-made jang coexist.

Some families insist on homemade jang, but it is a declining trend, and the same is true of many restaurants. On the other hand, some wealthy people have their jang made by their housekeepers. While Japanese miso and soy sauce are distributed and recognized overseas, jang from the Korean peninsula is distributed only by a few major manufacturers. The reason for this is the use of wild bacteria. Because it is wild, it is difficult to control, making factory production difficult, time-consuming, and inefficient.

With a few exceptions, such as barley miso from Kyushu and Hatcho miso from Aichi, there is a uniformity in the flavor of Japanese miso. However, Korean jang is difficult to control the flavor, so even if the ingredients are the same, each house has a completely different taste. That is what makes it interesting, but because of the wide range, it is difficult to focus on one and convey a typical flavor. I tell the name of the manufacturer to the people who try jang for the first time at my workshops. Strangely enough, good jang has a common taste of animal protein. With it, it is possible to supplement the umami flavor without chemical seasonings.

—From a fermentation standpoint, are there any other ingredients that you are looking at besides jang?

Suehyang: I have a great interest in beans native to the Korean peninsula, especially those of the genus Glycine. There are so many varieties that I think they may be the starting point of Korean Peninsula’s fermented foods. Since the Japanese archipelago was part of the Asian continent far back, there are many beans that originated in Japan, but the varieties originating from the Korean peninsula are far beyond that.The place of origin refers to where the plant was first cultivated and supplied. The history of beans in the Korean peninsula is very old, and the unique bean sprout culture, which is a home-grown vegetable, has sustained the lives of the people of the Korean peninsula during the long winter months, with Kongnamul being the most famous bean namul.

A distinctive aspect of the culture of the Korean peninsula is people’s strong fixation on plants. In the northern regions and around the border with China, vegetables could not be grown for about six months, and even in Seoul, nothing could be cultivated for at least four to six months a year. Jang, which has a long shelf life and is rich in protein, became a vital nutrient to survive the harsh natural environment and a source of vitamins. From this point of view, jang is a soy culture that people dedicated their lives to build.

−−Jang is made with wild bacteria and beans grown in nature with plenty of sunlight. I learned that the rich food culture of the Korean peninsula was developed and passed down in the family.

Suehyang: When complimenting a restaurant, there is an expression that “you taste the hands (that crafted the food).” Namul is meant to be mixed directly by hand, and they say that the traditional flavor has been nurtured by the hands of the ancestors. The best tool for making tasty food is the hands, and elderly women still use their hands to carefully prepare their dishes. If wild bacteria is also mixed in with the food, then the “taste of hands” could be the taste of the bacteria of the family. Sadly, many restaurants are now forced to cook with gloves, which marks a departure from the hands-on approach of the past.

Eating Korean food is about sensing the hands and the warmth behind the dishes 

−−Fermentation is also connected to alcohol. Could you tell us about the history?

Suehyang: The Korean Peninsula had a culture of home brewing, where sake was made at home before the Japanese occupation. Back then, the Japanese government made it illegal to brew sake at home or in local communities, and the sake production was regulated by the Japanese government. Shortly after WWII, the Korean War broke out, leaving the country in destitution. The Korean government banned the use of rice to make sake, which led to the decline of traditional sake brewing.

However, over the past couple of decades, through the efforts of many people, home-brewed alcohol has come to attract attention as a cultural heritage of the Korean peninsula. This is thanks to the valuable brewing techniques and wisdom that have been passed down in secret within the family through the turbulent times.

−−Do people still make fermented foods at home despite their busy schedule?

Suehyang: Fermented foods are once again attracting attention, and since home brewing is legal in South Korea, making makgeolli was all the rage during the pandemic. If you break it down into generations, those in their 60s and 70s have inherited the traditional art of fermentation, and they value the culture of fermenting foods at home. Those in their 40s and 50s have inherited some cooking methods including how to prepare, but are less familiar with making kimchi and the fermentation culture. The parent-child relationship on the Korean peninsula is unique, and it is not uncommon to see parents in their 60s and 70s cooking for their children in their 30s and 50s, so this environment is influencing the way each generation interacts with the fermented food culture.

I am a Zainichi living in South Korea. As a third-generation, who grew up in Japan, I can step back and have an overview of the fermented food culture of the Korean peninsula, as well as delving deeper into it. I was fascinated by the diversity and depth of the fermented foods of the Korean peninsula that I encountered when I started living in South Korea.

In the midst of all this, I am worried that the diverse wisdom and techniques to make fermented foods held by the women of the Korean peninsula will disappear. Experts know the importance of fermented culture, but to make as many people aware of it as possible, I run a cafe that specializes in fermented foods, and I continue to research and revive local dishes, and hold study sessions. I will continue my activities so that the flavors created by hand, which is based on fermentation unique to the Korean peninsula, will not be lost.

The post South Korean Fermentation Traditions: Insights into Their Delightful Dishes and Taste for Handcrafting, Differing from Japan appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

Junko Ito
Born in Aichi Prefecture, Japan, Junko is an editor and translator of the Korean language. She visited South Korea in 1990 and now runs a translation and editing agency. In 2017, she launched 『中くらいの友だち——韓くに手帖』, a magazine dedicated to discussing, savoring and enjoying South Korea. She is the author of『韓国　現地からの報告』,『韓国カルチャー』,『続・韓国カルチャー　描かれた「歴史」と社会の変化』and the translator of『搾取都市、ソウル』by Hyemi Lee. She also wrote commentary for the Japanese translation of Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-joo.

Korean dramas and movies, which have gained popularity globally, often feature scenes of meals, which stimulate the viewers’ appetite. If you search online for “Korean drama meals,” you can easily find recipes to recreate meals that have appeared in popular dramas. Many books have been published on this subject. We also see that people are flocking to Koreatowns around the world and paying a visit to South Korea in search of authentic gourmet meals.

Why do Korean dramas and movies often feature dining scenes? We can find part of the answer in 『続・韓国カルチャー　描かれた「歴史」と社会の変化』written by Junko Ito. Her book examines social changes through entertainment in South Korea and provides detailed explanations of the significance behind the meals depicted in popular dramas and films. Junko has authored numerous books on South Korea and has been introducing Korean culture to Japan for many years. We spoke to her about food culture and history in South Korea, delving into topics ranging from the increasing trend of solo dining and travel in recent years to the perspectives of the Korean diaspora communities.

Exploring the exquisite way of eating and living

－－When I watch videos and films from South Korea, I come across many scenes of people eating food. It gives me the impression that people turn to food, whether they are feeling sad or happy. Is eating considered important in any situations in their daily life?

Junko Ito: For South Koreans, hunger is an extremely unfortunate condition, and eating is considered very important. For example, at work, it is customary to ask, “Have you eaten?” It is a form of greeting, but if you have not eaten, you are instantly invited to eat, no matter how busy you are. This is due to the history that it took a long time before people were able to eat good food. The Korean War destroyed the country and South Korea was one of the poorest countries in the world in 1960, where the economy was said to be worse than that of North Korea at that time.

－－When I think of Korean food, I envision people eating namul or small plates of food together. On the other hand, in Japan, eating alone is called “solo katsu (solo activity),” and is attracting a lot of attention. Are there any preconceptions about eating alone in Korea?

Junko: In South Korea, the Japanese dramas Solitary Gourmet and Late Night Diner were big hits from 2000 to 2010, inspiring people with the joy of eating alone. I hear that people travel to Japan to eat alone and enjoy the experience of solo travel. Along with that, the dining habits in South Korea are also evolving. Since seniority is so important in South Korea, dining with a large group of people can be cumbersome for young individuals. Additionally, there is no tradition of splitting the bill and the most senior person often ends up paying. That is probably why people feel like dining alone occasionally.

Chinese restaurants used to be extraterritorial havens where anyone could casually dine alone

－－In Japan, there have always been many restaurants where it’s possible to eat a meal alone, such as teishoku-ya (set meal restaurants). How about in South Korea?

Junko: In the past, Chinese restaurants were the only establishments where people could easily dine alone in South Korea. During those days, there were not many foreigners and the only option for foreign food was provided by Chinese restaurants run by the overseas Chinese. In a sense, it was considered somewhat “extraterritorial” or “outside the Korean cultural sphere,” so people did not feel self-conscious about eating alone.

Along with this, Chinese food was considered a feast for a special occasion. Many middle-aged and older people have fond memories of eating jajangmyeon (noodles with meat sauce) for birthdays and special occasions when they were young. In South Korea, as in other countries, family meals are prepared by the mother. But Chinese food was a special dish that mothers could not make. Nowadays in South Korea, you can eat food from all over the world, so I don’t think there is one foreign dish that is special. Pizza and chicken are popular among small children. There is a difference in the way South Koreans think of eating out in the past and now.

－－Were there any Japanese restaurants?

Junko: There have always been many Japanese restaurants in South Korea, especially during the presidency of Park Chung-hee, who was in power from 1963 to 1979, as he was a big fan of Japanese food. There were rumors that the former president was such an enthusiast of Japanese food that he even had sushi flown in from Japan. However, Japanese restaurants were primarily known for business dinners, making them less accessible for casual visits. Consequently, Chinese restaurants began offering Japanese dishes such as udon and omurice, which is a westernized everyday Japanese dish. In the 1990s, yakitori and robatayaki gained popularity.

It’s not just about being tasty; The food culture is deeply rooted in the local land and climate

－－Many of your books draw on thoughts and memories related to Korean cuisine. In your latest book, there is a section that refers to the South Korean movie Little Forest. You write about how Koreans love sujebi (dumpling soup), which is the equivalent of suiton in Japan. You wrote that while sujebi is well-suited to eat on a cold day in the middle of winter, many people eat it regardless of the weather, with some people saying they love to eat it on a rainy day. If you had to pick one Korean dish that is very dear to your heart, what would it be?

Junko: For me, it would be cold noodles. There are so many people in South Korea who are obsessed with cold noodles. First of all, cold noodle restaurants in South Korea were started by people from North Korea after liberation. Even today, many of the long-established cold noodle restaurants in Seoul were founded by people from North Korea. Some of my Korean friends tell me stories of their childhood memories of eating Pyongyang cold noodles with their father. Even for those who are not from North Korea, cold noodles are a special dish. It is like how people in Tokyo may have their preferred soba restaurant they swear by.

－－I have this impression that Korean food is healthy.  What is the concept behind the food?

Junko: In principle, South Koreans are health-conscious, guided by the notion that “you are what you eat.” It’s important to eat locally produced food that is prepared in a way that suits the region. This is a concept that also exists in Japan, and it differs from the idea of vegan or plant-based meals. The Chinese also share a similar perspective, probably as a result of their belief that “a balanced diet leads to a healthy body.” The food must be good for the body and the traditional dishes are considered well-suited for them.

－－Korean food is associated with garlic, but does it have any special meaning?

Junko: According to the legend of Dangun in Samguk Yusa (Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms), a book compiled during the Goryeo Dynasty, there is a story of a bear that ate garlic and mugwort and was transformed into a human being. Then the bear who became human slept with the son of the emperor and gave birth to the founder of the nation, thus giving birth to the nation. Therefore mugwort and garlic are important foods in Korea. It has been adopted as a health and beauty treatment in traditional Korean medicine. Conversely, chili peppers are said to have become popular only after the 18th century.

－－Does that mean that Korean food was not originally spicy?

Junko: During the Joseon Dynasty (1392-1876), kimchi was not spicy. Even today, chili peppers are rarely used when serving traditional Korean royal court cuisine. Chili peppers were introduced because there was originally a culture of eating garlic, and the two flavors complemented each other so well that Korean food gradually became spicier. It is said that spicy food, as we know it today, became popular after the Korean War. Korean food experts recently warned that the spiciness of Korean food is excessive nowadays. Even compared to 30 years ago when I first came to Korea, it seems to be getting spicier every year.

The strength of South Korea: co-creating with immigrants who are active abroad

－－The largest group of foreign tourists to South Korea is from Japan. Vice-versa, the largest number of foreign tourists visiting Japan is from South Korea. As for the Japanese tourists, they need to enjoy gourmet food. What are the main objectives of tourists from South Korea when they travel to Japan?

Junko: Most Japanese travel to South Korea with a specific purpose. They may like Korean food, actors, or artists, but many Koreans travel to Japan without a specific purpose. Many of them have visited Japan repeatedly with some visiting all of the prefectures. I have a Korean friend who has visited Saga many times and when I asked the reason, my friend told me it was because of the Saga Airport. Since the first international flight opened at Saga Airport was from South Korea, my friend’s first visit to Japan was part of a campaign to mark the opening of the airport. There are regional airports in Japan where the first international flight was from South Korea, and quite a few Koreans have a special attachment to the first place they visited in Japan. I recently went to Tsushima for work the other day. There are many immigrants from South Korea in this area. I asked a resident in his 60s, who has been living there for six years, why he moved to Japan. He replied, “Because the air quality in Seoul is no longer good.

－－I heard that Koreans have many relatives and friends outside of the country and that there is a Korean diaspora of 7 million people. You have started writing the series of articles titled『移動する人びと、刻まれた記憶』on this theme about how the Korean people have lived their lives while moving around the world. The articles feature various people’s histories at the intersection of Korean and world history. You are known for writings that capture Korean politics and economics, literature, movies, and dramas through broad perspectives or putting things under microscopic lenses, drawing out the voices of South Koreans in everyday life, in the field of education and cultural exchange between Japan and Korea. How did you come to choose the diaspora as your main theme lately?

Junko: The economic development of South Korea and its movies and dramas are gaining worldwide recognition and attention. How can a highly homogeneous country like South Korea produce a transnational culture that can compete on the world stage? I believe it is the accumulation of the rich variety of experiences of the people known as the Korean diaspora. It is the experience of hardship, effort, and success. If the driving force of the United States is the diversity and power of incoming immigrants, Korea’s strength lies in its collaboration with immigrants who are active abroad.

I believe that society needs flexibility and vitality. I sometimes wonder if Japan can learn from the diversity of incoming foreigners while making the best use of the strengths of Japanese people living abroad.

Photography Junko Ito
Translation Fumiko.M

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Kim Seung-bok
Kim is the CEO of Cuon. She majored in contemporary poetry in the Department of Creative Writing at Seoul Institute of the Arts. After graduating in 1991, she moved to Japan and enrolled in the Department of Literary Arts at Nihon University College of Art. Having been a voracious reader of Korean poetry and novels from South Korea and her love of literature led her to launch the publishing company Cuon in 2007. In 2015, when she relocated the office, she took the opportunity to open a bookstore with a café called Chekccori, which specializes in South Korean books in Jimbocho, an area known for bookstores.

South Korea is considered both geographically the closest and yet one of the most distant countries from Japan due to its historical conflicts and divergent political views. On the other hand, there are many Japanese who enjoy visiting the country on vacation.  The younger Japanese generation is drawn to the Korean lifestyles and values through their exposure to K-pop, K-dramas, and movies. It is not surprising to encounter Japanese students, who diligently follow South Korean culture with enthusiasm and actually consider it as their dream country. In recent years, Cho Nam-joo’s novel Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 (2020), sold 1.3 million copies in South Korea and was translated and published in 16 countries around the world. It was also made into a movie. The novel’s success sparked interest in South Korean literature among avid fans of K-pop, K-dramas, and films. The novel, which is regarded as a South Korean feminist novel, engendered deep sympathies among women around the world, with some saying that it gave them hope for the coming future era.

Why are Japanese people attracted to novels from South Korea? Makiko Saito, the translator of Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, noted in her book,『韓国文学の中心にあるもの』(2022), about the strength of South Korean literature, that the popularity of South Korean literature is bolstered by the broad and enthusiastic support of readers. She wrote that the readership is so diverse and cannot be summed up in a single reason or thought. Upon reviewing their feedback, she realized that many people enjoyed reading the books, but more importantly, they provided sensible support in a world filled with absurdity, violence, and perplexity.

The place to find and enjoy South Korean literature in Japan is Checkkori, a bookstore located in Jimbocho, Tokyo. The bookstore’s name is taken from Korean and means “a place for children who finished studying a book at a Korean terakoya (a small private school) to celebrate and express their gratitude for the teacher’s guidance.” The store is a magnet for readers, researchers, and Japanese publishing professionals. It is managed by Cuon, a publishing company specializing in South Korean publications, which was started by the owner, Kim Seung-bok, 16 years ago. At that time, only about 20 translations of South Korean literature were published per year. She spoke of the days going around bookstores tirelessly to get the books placed. She carried on believing in the origin of the store name, which means: “All good things are loved by all and live a long life.” Today, many bookstores have a section dedicated to South Korean literature translated into Japanese, but Kim’s eyes gleamed with passion as she said, “There are still many excellent South Korean books yet to be published in Japanese.”

The world of South Korean literature in Japan relies on connections built by curiosity, passion, and solidarity of interests and ideas.

–-The books published by Cuon cover a range of fields and are usually offered in the form of a series. There are books by South Korean and Japanese intellectuals that evolve around their dialogue and delve into the differences as well as the similarities between the two countries. There are also books on humanities and society that offer insight into the history and psyche of South Korea from different perspectives. I heard that the book series of South Korean literature is highly acclaimed for the book design and the first book that came out was The Vegetarian (2016) by Han Kang, who was the first South Korean author to receive the Man Booker International Prize.  

Kim Seung-bok: On the cover of The Vegetarian, I put the number “01” since it was the first book of the series. I was once asked by a bookstore staff, “I see ‘01’ on the cover. How many books are you planning to publish? I need to make space on the shelves.” On the spot, I replied, “24 books.” The plan was to start with six books and then use the profit to publish additional six books. It was not easy to get to where we are today, but we managed to publish 23 books so far. After The Vegetarian was published, I heard someone saying, “My worldview on South Korean literature has changed.” This made me happy. We have to go to bookstores directly to pitch the books and ask to carry them. Otherwise, the readers will never come across the books we published. We have to keep on trying.

–It’s been 12 years since the first book. What are the projects that you are currently focusing on?

Kim: In addition to running the bookstore, publishing books, and connecting Japanese publishers to South Korean publishers, we organize book events and South Korean literature festivals as well as Korean translation competitions to discover and nurture translators. We also published a series of books under the name of “South Korean Literature Short Short,” targeting customers, who are not big readers but are interested in learning Korean. In this series, we featured a short story in Korean along with a Japanese translation so it’s accessible to any readers. In addition to that, we made readings in Korean available on YouTube.

When we find something interesting, we involve other people, who want to be part of the project. We are always looking for something new. If we meet someone that we want to work with, we are persistent about pursuing that person. I think these efforts have led to who we are today. It’s not just me, but it’s thanks to the passion of everyone involved.

–I attended an online event organized by Chekccori the other day. I heard that you hold about 100 events a year, which I believe is a lot of work. How are you managing the projects? And have you noticed any change in your readership? 　

Kim: We organize events to nurture a sense of solidarity in the community. It’s not only the readers, but we are also close to our translators and editors, who are on the production side. With them, we often discuss the concept of our next book and how to market it. Over the years, we have built mutual relationships with people who are involved in publishing to expand the market of South Korean literature. Nowadays we can find the South Korean literature section at bookstores in town.

It has been eight years since we started Chekccori, and I feel that the age range of our readers has dropped dramatically with the recent Hallyu boom. Teenagers who are fascinated by South Korea have a sparkle in their eyes from the moment they enter the store, and many readers are looking for books recommended by BTS and Hallyu stars as their favorite reading material. On the other hand, the number of customers interested in history and politics has also increased. Since the start of video streaming services, South Korean movies, and dramas have become readily available, so people seem to feel more cultural familiarity with South Korea. More and more people are saying, “South Korean literature is interesting,” and readers want to pick up different books. Not all books are easy to read, but they are gradually becoming known.

Brave words transcend borders and have the power to make society better

–I saw that there is a collection of poems published by Cuon. I sensed that literature and essays strongly appeal to the readers’ societal awareness. When it comes to poetry, how is it positioned in South Korean literature?

Kim: South Korea is a country that follows the tradition of Confucianism. In that context, reading books, composing poems, and reciting them are considered something very important. Literary figures are still respected today. So far, we published two books of South Korean poetry from Cuon as part of our poetry series, “Selection Korean Poetry.” The first one is Han Kang’s Put The Evening In The Drawer (2013). On the book band, it says, “Words of poems lead you to recover.” South Korean novels in Japanese are published in Japan nowadays, but there are very few contemporary South Korean poems in Japanese. We hope to introduce more of them. If our poetry books do well, I am sure Japanese publishers will be interested and that could lead to having more of them published.

In Japan and South Korea, the ways people express joy and sadness are slightly different. In Japan, tanka and haiku are popular. I saw that tanka is still popular among the younger generation, especially on social media. However, in South Korea, it’s poetry. People post short poem-like sentences with sleek backgrounds online. It almost feels as if this format is a staple of contemporary poetry in South Korea. Many people call themselves poets. (laughs) In other words, people of all ages are writing poems daily.

–Many South Korean feminist books, such as Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, have been translated into Japanese. Readers commented that they were encouraged or started to think about feminism and history in Japan after reading the works. It feels that South Korean literature created an opportunity to catalyze solidarity among women. Do you think Japanese readers feel a sense of affinity with the works of contemporary Korean authors? Conversely, did Japanese literature have any influence in South Korea?

Kim: The reason why so many essays by contemporary writers are read in Japan is that South Koreans and Japanese have similar sensibilities and can easily empathize with each other. In addition, the number of Japanese books translated and published in Korean is more than 10 times greater than the number of Korean books translated into Japanese, indicating that young South Koreans identify with Japanese literature. Although we speak different languages, I feel that we are in the same cultural sphere.

There is a well-known episode of Kim Yeon-su, one of the most famous novelists in South Korea today. He decided to become a novelist because he learned a new way of writing novels by reading Haruki Murakami. He was born in the 1970s and the novels he had read until then were mostly weighty works about North and South Korea, the Korean War, ideological battles, and so on. This naturally left an imprint on him on how novels were written. Therefore, when he encountered Murakami’s works, he felt that he could write novels with a sensibility that readers may understand his feelings without touching on complex themes. 

Murakami’s works, written in the first person, have had a major impact on Kim Yeon-su to the extent that they completely changed his concept of what a novel is. It’s not only Kim Yeon-su, but also Han Kang, Kim Jung-hyuk, and Kim Young-ha, who are now writers in their mid-50s, have written superb novels, which are greatly appreciated all over the world. One of the most appealing features of South Korean literature is that their works depict personal stories while at the same time cleverly incorporating the history and social issues of the country.

Japanese people seem to feel that heavy and painful South Korean novels express their thoughts. On the other hand, South Koreans are drawn to Japanese novels that depict soothing moments in daily life and happiness. It is the same with movies. While most South Korean movies are intense and have a strong message, Japanese movies are also very popular, and some get fixated on the leading male characters. It’s interesting as they are complementary.

“Good books prompt people to act after finishing reading them”

–In addition to Cuon, you also serve as an intermediary between Japanese and South Korean publishers. At the end of last year, three books by Kim Won-young, translated into Japanese were published around the same time. The first book, Desire Instead of Hope: Why Desire Should be Equal (2022) was published by Cuon, followed by The Case for ‘Wrongful Life’ (2022). If the first book was about the power of freedom and solidarity, the second one was about defending the disabled, the poor, and the sexual minorities. The third book, Becoming a Cyborg (2022), was co-authored with Kim Cho-yeop, the rising star of the new generation of South Korean science fiction writers. It presents a stimulating dialogue on examining technology not as a treatment to reach perfection but to live better with imperfection. What prompted you to introduce these books to Japanese publishers?

Kim: I came across Desire Instead of Hope as I was looking for a book written in Korean by an author with disabilities.  This was after I read『家族だから愛したんじゃなくて、愛したのが家族だった』(2020) by Nami Kishida, a delightful account of the author’s daily life with her brother with intellectual disabilities.

All of Kim Won-young’s books were deeply thought-provoking, unlike Kishida’s book, which was enjoyable to read. After I read them, several Japanese editors came to my mind who might be interested in the topic or see them as a way to expand the distribution channels. I immediately sent a proposal and asked them to read the book to which they responded promptly. They decided to publish the books right away. Good books prompt people to act. In my case, if I think it’s fun, I will take action instantly. If it’s not fun, I quit right away and start something else right away. (laughs)

We are planning to move to a larger store in the near future. The plan is to feature books from different countries every month and organize events. In 2019, we organized an event with book critics and translators titled, “Invitation to Asian Literature @ Chekccori” to introduce works from Thailand, Tibet, and China. This led to our involvement in the publication of 『絶縁』(2022), an anthology of popular authors from nine cities in Asia. Thanks to the book, it generated interest in Tibetan literature, which led to having the novel being nominated in the translation category of the Japan Booksellers’ Award and eventually to the publication of a book. These are good trends. I heard that South Korean literature is a model case for how to draw attention to Asian literature in Japan. I would like to collaborate with those who are involved in Asian literature in Japan to build momentum. The people who will benefit the most are the Japanese-speaking readers who can read Asian literature in their language.

Earlier this year, I introduced a North Korean novel, Friend: A Novel from North Korea (2020) by Paek Nam-nyong to a Japanese publisher and the book came out. Since Korean is spoken in North Korea and Yanbian Korean Autonomous Prefecture in China, I would like to introduce a variety of works written in places other than South Korea to readers in Japan in the future.

*Kim Won-young was diagnosed with osteogenesis imperfecta at a young age and went through a number of hospitalization and operations while growing up. He lived only in the hospital and at home until age 14. When he was 15, he entered the middle school of a special needs school. After attending a general high school, college, and graduate school, he went on to become a lawyer. He is also a writer and performer.

Photography Seiji Kondo
Translation Fumiko.M

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The other is the Portland Japanese Garden, known as one of the premier Japanese gardens in the country among the more than 300 Japanese gardens in the U.S. The park consists of eight different garden styles, including a tea house and a karesansui (sand and stone) garden. When it reopened in 2017, which coincided with the 50th anniversary of its opening, three new buildings were constructed, including a gallery and visitor center designed by architect Kengo Kuma.

We interviewed Jana Iwasaki, a fourth-generation Japanese American and board member of the Japanese American Museum of Oregon about the little-known history of Japanese Americans in Portland, which now attracts many visitors and residents from Japan.

According to records from JAMO, there were only 25 people of Japanese descent living in Portland in 1890. Twenty years later, that number had grown to 1,200, with many more Nikkei living in the rest of the state. Japantown, or Nihonmachi, as it was called by the Issei, was carried over to the next generation, and a Japanese American community was formed with over 4,000 people living there in 1940. However, World War II broke out, and on February 19, 1942, President Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, which authorized the military to send Japanese Americans to concentration camps. During World War II, 120,000 Japanese Americans were interned in 10 concentration camps throughout the United States. After the war, Portland’s Japantown never fully recovered, and many of the Nikkei interned during the war settled in other cities, with few returning to the area.

Jana Iwasaki
A Yonsei, is a board member of Japanese American Museum of Oregon (JAMO). Formerly known as the Oregon Nikkei Legacy Center, the mission of JAMO is to preserve and honor the history and culture of Japanese Americans in the Pacific Northwest, educate the public about the Japanese American experience during World War II, and advocate for the protection of civil rights for all Americans.
https://jamo.org/
Photography Rich Iwasaki

Japanese American history in Portland

−−I heard that when your grandfather was alive, he gave interviews and spoke on a few occasions to share his own experiences and the history of Japanese Americans at places such as the Portland State University, the Oregon Historical Society, and local libraries.

Jana Iwasaki：My grandpa was the oldest of eight siblings. He was 30 years old at the time and helped navigate the family during a difficult time. They ended up in the Japanese American farm labor camp in Eastern Oregon. There was a shortage of farmers because men were drafted to the war. At the camp, they farmed onions and sugar beets. A byproduct of the sugar beets was used to produce munitions and synthetic rubber and aided the war effort against Japan. At other camps, there was a total loss of the family unit because teenagers would eat with their teenage friends and the younger children would just start making new friends. My grandpa thought it would be a better situation at the farm labor camp, because they could maintain their family unit. They lived in a tent with a stove and prepared their own meals. Their experience was different from those who ended up in other concentration camps.

My grandpa’s younger sisters were school-age, and some of them had to transfer colleges from the West Coast to Idaho. Depending on the age, the experiences were so different. Some of his younger sisters said that they had fun as they made new friends. They already had a hard life farming and they felt that they were doing fewer hours farming in this particular situation. That was an interesting perspective to hear. Regardless of that, the overall picture was bleak since they lost all their civil rights.

My two great-uncles, my grandpa’s younger brothers, were both drafted into the US Army during the war. In 2011, President Obama awarded the Congressional Gold Medal of Honor to the Japanese American veterans in Washington D.C. There was a total of 33,000 Nisei soldiers, who fought in the 442nd Regimental Combat Team , the 100th Battalion, and the Military Intelligence Service.

−−To remember the discrimination and humiliation that they were subjected to and to prevent repeating the same mistakes, Japanese Americans designated February 19th as the “Day of Remembrance” and hold events across the United States every year. What kind of activities have you participated in?

Iwasaki: I joined the “Manzanar Pilgrimage” with my family and friends, visiting the concentration camps of Minidoka in south-central Idaho, Tule Lake in northern California, Manzanar in California, and Heart Mountain in Wyoming. It was a very unsettling experience. The harsh weather conditions of these places persist today. Some places are so brutally hot in the summertime, but also windy. I wasn’t there in the winter, but they also talked about how cold it was in the winter. Most people were from Southern California and were not used to even having any type of cold weather. To experience the weather was one thing and to listen to people’s personal stories was so moving. At Manzanar, I heard a woman speak about her father, who left his family in the camp and moved to Japan. I can’t even imagine how devastating that must have been for the family.

The U.S. Government asked everybody in the camps to answer loyalty questionnaires. Some of them answered no to those questions. They were often young men, who were labeled as the “No-No Boys.” Today, we consider them civil rights heroes. But at the time, the “No-Nos” were seen as bringing shame to their families by disobeying authority. Many of the “No-Nos” did not object to serving their country but said they would serve only if the government released their families from camps. In the end, some of them went on to serve after World War II, in the Korean War. I heard one story about an Issei mother who committed suicide out of shame because her son was a World War II draft resistor. It should also be noted that it wasn’t until 2002 that the Japanese American Citizens League officially apologized to the draft resistors. I was shocked at how recent this apology was issued. In that sense, there were aspects that I had never considered before, which were brought to my attention during these pilgrimages.

I found the camps at Tule Lake and Heart Mountain particularly memorable. Tule Lake had a jail in it. They called it “the jail within the jail,” jokingly, because everyone was in a prison camp. However, they put another prison inside. I don’t think there was even a locked door. The prison inside is where they sent people that were the most disobedient and problematic. One characteristic of Tule Lake was that there were a lot of activists and community leaders.

At the Heart Mountain pilgrimage that I attended, two prominent government leaders presented together. Former Congressmen Norman Mineta and Alan Simpson had successful careers in politics representing California and Wyoming respectively. They had an incredible story to share. When Mineta was incarcerated at Heart Mountain, his Boy Scout leader invited several troops to do a jamboree. Finally, one troop accepted their request. Mineta and Simpson were paired and ended up completing a series of contests together. Years later, when Mineta was elected the mayor of San Jose, Simpson wrote him a note asking if Mineta still remembered him from years ago. This led to a lifelong friendship. Simpson is a Republican and Mineta, who passed away last year, was a Democrat. They were opposites politically but worked together on numerous issues.

There are amazing stories from Heart Mountain. In Little Tokyo in Los Angeles, there’s a confectionary, Fugetsu-Do which still exists today. It’s a family business that is 120 years old. The family was at Heart Mountain, and people would bring them bits of rationed sugar from which they would make professional treats. Another industrious family, the Hiraharas, built a darkroom under their barrack, preserving history at Heart Mountain.

The best part of attending pilgrimages was sharing the experience with Nisei relatives and family friends who lived through that part of history. I have deep respect and admiration for their perseverance, as well as gratitude for them paving the way, making it easier for later generations.

The most significant for Japanese Americans was the reparations bill. In 1988, the government gave $20,000 to every survivor and offered a formal apology.

−−There are some sad and upsetting parts in the history of Japanese Americans. What specific lessons can we learn from this history to look forward to a more hopeful future?

Iwasaki: My great-grandpa started farming in Hillsboro in 1916, and thanks to the kindness of neighbors, the Freudenthals, our farm Iwasaki Bros still exists on that same property today. The Freudenthals were German American dairy farmers. Since the US was also at war with Germany, they empathized and asked how they could help. My family was building a new house in 1942 and when it became apparent that they would be forced to leave, they moved in for a few weeks to experience it, even though construction was not finished. My grandpa arranged that the town doctor would rent the house, however, the doctor didn’t initially pay. The Freudenthals intervened to collect the rent and watched over the property.

The Freudenthal family was involved with the Lutheran church in Hillsboro. In a gesture of gratitude, my grandpa’s younger brothers Akira and Arthur helped obtain pieces of red rock in Central Oregon, which were used to build the church. They used dynamite to break them into transportable pieces and hauled them back to Hillsboro in farm trucks. This building still exists today on Main Street. The church congregation outgrew the size of the building, which is now part of the Hillsboro Parks and Recreation Department and is used for concerts, receptions and events. The Freudenthal family ended up selling their property to their church, and the friendship with their family and the congregation exists today. This is an example of individuals coming together in friendship and allyship, looking out for one another.

“Your story is our story.” A diverse group of artists is active in uncovering the little-known history of Japanese Americans.

−−Looking back, there are many Japanese and Japanese American artists such as photographer Frank Matsura (1873-1913), painter and illustrator Miné Okubo (1912-2001), and Valerie Otani (1947-2020), a founder of Oregon Nikkei Legacy Center and artist. Matsura traveled to the U.S. during the Meiji era and took photographs of Americans of all races, including the first nations people, white people and black people. Miné Okubo is known for her book Citizen No. 13660, which describes her wartime experiences in a Japanese American concentration camp with illustrations, and is still read today as a valuable source of vivid information about her experiences. One of the most significant contributors to Portland’s Nikkei community was Valerie Otani. Who impacted you the most?

Iwasaki: Valerie Otani directly impacted me as a founder of both Portland Taiko and the Oregon

Nikkei Legacy Center, which was renamed the Japanese American Museum of Oregon in 2019. Her family background influenced her work. She was talented at bringing people and their ideas together. A public art piece by Valerie that honors Japanese American history in Portland is Voices of Remembrance. This artwork is at the site of the Portland Assembly Center, where the Japanese Americans in 1942 were first sent. Today the site is the Expo Center, which many visit for various events. The sculpture is a torii gate with metal tags that represent each family who was incarcerated. When the wind blows, the tags create a gentle sound like chimes. The sculpture is currently being restored and will be placed again in 2025.

−−There are non-Japanese American artists such as filmmaker Beth Harrington and artist Julian Saporiti that carry on the legacy of Japanese Americans. Harrington is currently working on a documentary, Our Mr. Matsura, which traces the life of the aforementioned photographer, Frank Matsura. The Nashville-born Vietnamese American songwriter and scholar Julian Saporiti who currently resides in Portland, has launched a music project called No-No Boy, and released several songs inspired by his family’s history of surviving the Vietnam War and the experiences of Asian Americans, including those of Japanese descent. Did you learn something new from them?

Iwasaki: There is always much to learn. Regarding Beth Harrington’s work, I had never heard of the subject of her film, Frank Matsura. He was an interesting man and an example of a Japanese immigrant becoming part of the local community, leaving an imprint. There were many Issei who were interested in being part of the new community that they were in and managed to integrate in a positive way. In Frank Matsura’s case, through his photography, he documented life in the surrounding area. We wouldn’t know as much about life back then without his pictures. He truly immersed himself in the local area and documented day-to-day life, including people of multiple First Nation tribes. It’s exciting to learn about an early Japanese American who appreciated culture and diversity within one community to that extent.

No-No Boy delves into heavy topics for its song material. At performances, they show graphic images, old photos. One song really hit me with the image of a Japanese American man, during the war-time era, who laid down on the train tracks. Again, I was moved to think about the emotional side of war and racism and how difficult it must have been for all those incarcerated.

Despite these types of engaging work, racism continues and is getting worse, unfortunately. We must honor the past, and take an action for the future by continuing to speak out and build relationships and partnerships with like-minded people and organizations with similar missions to combat racism.

Cooperation: Jana Iwasaki＆James Rodgers, JAMO
References: Densho. Preserving Japanese American stories; Japanese American Museum of Oregon. Oregon’s Japanese Americans: Full documentary; Portland State University and the Oregon Historical Society. Japanese American incarceration in Oregon digital exhibit; U.S. National Park Service. Manzanar National Historic Site.

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Obon Shokudo
Obon Shokudo is a vegan restaurant serving Japanese home-style cuisine in Portland, Oregon. The restaurant is owned and operated by a husband and wife team Humiko Hozumi and Jason Duffany. All menu items are plant-based, using farm-to-table, organic, and sustainable ingredients. The restaurant has developed environmentally friendly recipes that reduce food waste and, for example, use every bit of the edible parts of vegetables. They also ensure that organic food is affordable to anyone regardless of their income level and set their prices accordingly.
https://www.obonpdx.com/

Japanese vegan food that makes non-vegans content 

As we entered the restaurant, Jason Duffany, the owner of Obon Shokudo, smiled and greeted his friends, the husband and wife team who owns Jorinji Miso. In the kitchen, Jason’s wife Humiko Hozumi was busy experimenting with flours to fry some items. “I’m trying different flours, but the batter for kakiage does not become consistent,” she noted. Since gluten-free flours don’t become sticky, it’s difficult to fry vegetables as each vegetable has a different moisture content and condition.

Humiko continued to look for a wheat flour substitute for her health-conscious gluten-free customers, but she could not find any she was satisfied with. In November, she decided to use wheat flour. She was not sure how her customers were going to respond to it. However, their reaction was not bad. Since then, her principle is to abide by veganism, but she uses ingredients with gluten for certain dishes when it’s the best option for a better outcome.

The Portlanders say that Obon Shokudo offers dishes that are not available at other Japanese restaurants in the area. Their menu is actually filled with elaborate dishes. Their signature sprouted brown rice onigiri is served with fillings such as miso marinated tofu, ginger and pistachio miso, or yuzu and pumpkin seed miso. Unique flavors are added to home-style Japanese dishes.

Humiko started the vegan restaurant to offer food that is pleasing to the body and mind. It was not just about offering vegetarian food. She hopes that her customers lead a comfortable life eating food from her kitchen. In reflection of this, the restaurant offers a wide variety of succulent dishes such as “croquettes using soy pulp” and “tofu cutlets” that are comparable to meat dishes, which are popular among non-vegan customers. For customers concerned about the calories and nutritional value of fried foods, she thoroughly explains the benefits of vegetable protein and the cooking method that uses minimal oil, which lessens any negative impact on their health. They keep their prices reasonable while the portions are generous. Humiko said, “Organic food has become a luxury item, but we want to offer our dishes to as many people as possible, regardless of their income level.”

The three principles behind the “feel good” concept

The main concept of Obon Shokudo is to offer Japanese food that makes people feel good. The concept is reflected in how they source their ingredients as well as how they treat their customers from the moment they walk into the restaurant until they leave. Humiko stated the three principles that they practice. First, they try best to only buy seasonal food from the local farmers and stores in the vicinity. Second, they make sure to minimize food loss and waste. All kitchen staff need to go through Humiko’s check before discarding food scraps. “I ask them not to waste food. I tell my staff repeatedly that our restaurant is different from others and we minimize waste. Even so, I had many chefs who came to me with a heap of food scraps asking if they could throw them away. There was so much food that could still be eaten.” This is a reminder of how difficult it is to run a restaurant while reducing food waste. The third is to help build a healthy digestive cycle. “I want to create eating habits where even if you eat until you are full, your stomach doesn’t feel upset and you wake up the next day feeling hungry yet comfortable.” Humiko also added, “If there is a tasty product that has already been perfected over a long period, we would rather offer it at our restaurant than make it ourselves from scratch.” While they focus on making everything in-house, they also pay their respect to fine products made by others. For example, they carry amazake made by Jorinji Miso. Since they make their own miso and koji at Obon Shokudo, Humiko can make amazake. However, she raves about the amazake made by Jorinji Miso.

The other noteworthy aspect of their menu is the daily special. Humiko and Jason usually go to the mountains to forage mushrooms on their days off. The mushrooms they foraged are often incorporated into their daily special. Recently they made gyoza from mushrooms that had flavors similar to that of maitake mushroom. Last year, they had a good matsutake season and ended up offering rice cooked with matsutake and bamboo shoots, and sautéed matsutake.

Make a difference through small activities and co-create with local producers

The two originally moved from San Francisco, attracted by the diverse mix of food cultures and the city’s slogan “Keep Portland Weird,” a community that respects individuality.

Obon Shokudo first opened as a catering restaurant. Later, when a local vegan and gluten-free distributor suggested selling their food in farmers’ markets, they began selling kenchin-jiru, rice balls, croquettes, and other items in 2014. At the time, sushi and ramen were the only well-known Japanese food in Portland, and they gradually increased their customer base by offering tastings regularly. To make it easier for those unfamiliar with Japanese food to understand what the food was like, they could have described kenchin-jiru as “miso soup with lots of vegetables” and croquettes as “Japanese-style falafel.” However, they stuck to the original names of each dish and explained their origins and ingredients. Initially, it took a while for the customers to accept their dishes. It was important to stick to the original practice until the local residents become familiar with the food from other countries. Humiko said, “I wanted to make Japanese home cooking that made me feel at home. It’s food that my mother and grandmother in Saitama Prefecture used to make for me at home.” Reflecting on the past several years, Humiko smiled and said, “Jason has always been the one who inspires me and says, ‘It will work out.’ His energy and thoughtfulness are truly amazing.” The concept of family is also incorporated into the store’s name and logo. The restaurant’s name “Obon” is a homonym and refers to a period in which people honor the spirits of ancestors in Japan, as well as a lacquered wooden tray used for serving food. The black-and-white logo was inspired by the Hozumi family crest.

An important criterion in choosing a business partner for Humiko and Jason is not only the quality of the food but also whether or not the company shares the same values on food loss, environmental issues, and contribution to community revitalization. In addition to operating a restaurant, they recently launched a new brand “Obon kojo,” and sell kanzuri in stores, and miso and koji for retail and wholesale. The driving force behind their creativity is the desire to share food that makes people feel good. Humiko concluded, “The impact of our activities on society is still small, but we hope to reduce food loss and increase the number of people who are health-conscious in their eating habits.”

Translation Fumiko.M

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The covid pandemic triggered another wave of interest in fermentation. These days, fermented foods are evolving on their own in Japan and abroad respectively. Machiko Tateno, a Japanese culinary researcher, worked to connect the dots between the two countries. Tateno published books on miso, shio koji, amazake, and other fermented foods in Japan. She also made appearances on a cooking show that has been airing for more than 60 years. Her efforts to educate people about fermented foods as home cooking that anyone can prepare had already circulated in Japan, but have now also reached Portland and New York. The English edition of Japanese Pickled Vegetables, published in 2019, was so popular that it had to be reprinted. Her way of cooking, which pursues the simple and delicious, was appreciated beyond borders. At a lecture event on pickles held in New York a few years ago, Tateno said, “I realized the potential of fermented foods as I met people from Portland who enjoy fermented food with unique ideas that the Japanese people do not have, and I want to now spread amazake.” The Fermentation Festival in Portland, which began in 2009, is one gateway to understanding the fermented food scene in Portland. Tateno attended the event twice with her friends, the Migakis, the owners of Jorinji Miso, who are known for making miso in Portland using traditional Japanese methods. The festival helped deepen her relationship with the residents, who loved fermented foods.

Jorinji Miso
Soy Beam Jozo’s miso brand is run by Earnest Migaki, a third-generation Japanese American born and raised in Portland, Oregon, and Yuri Migaki, a Japanese native who moved to Portland in 2015. They focus on natural fermentation and small-batch production. In addition to wholesaling to supermarkets and restaurants in the Portland area, they conduct direct sales through monthly events, as well as shipping directly within the U.S., except during summer months. The duo believes that miso is a way to make people healthy and happy.
https://www.jorinjimiso.com/

Founded in Portland 27 years ago, Jorinji Miso has been in business thanks to connections formed over time

Jorinji Miso was founded in 1995 by Earnest Migaki, a third-generation Japanese American born and raised in Portland, and his first wife, Sumiko, who was born in Japan. Earnest originally moved to Japan to find a job, where he met Sumiko. The couple returned to Portland in 1994. At the time, homemade miso was not available in Portland, so they decided to make miso that would meet their own standards. Using an instruction manual and tools brought from Japan, they went through several attempts, and the final miso was a success among their friends. This experience led to the birth of Jorinji Miso. Just as the miso was proving popular enough to be sold at local organic supermarkets, however, Sumiko suddenly passed away. Earnest was overwhelmed with a sense of loss and anxiety. But with the encouragement of his business friend Mio Asaka, who sold pastries using his miso at a local farmer’s market, Earnest waded through his loss and continued to make miso.

Yuri Oe, a Tokyo native, learned about Jorinji Miso through Mio in 2015 when she was studying abroad in Portland. She met Earnest and began helping him at his workplace. The following year, they married. Yuri Migaki recalls of her first encounter with Jorinji Miso, “It was a pleasant surprise to find such delicious miso in Portland.”

In their miso storeroom, a local newspaper clipping that featured the company when it was founded is taped to the wall. Yuri says, “There is a feeling that the three of us are working together, Sumiko-san watching over us so that we can make delicious miso.” After graduating from a junior college in Japan, Yuri worked as a system engineer for 20 years. Then she worked as a manager for Roppongi Nouen, a farm-to-table restaurant where Tateno worked as a chef. During her first 5 years at Jorinji Miso, Yuri redesigned the packaging, brand logo, and manufacturing space, also improving the environmental conditions of manufacturing. Of all the changes she made, changing the label, which had been used since the company was founded, was the biggest decision, as it was created by her predecessor. Yuri says with a smile, “I am having a very enjoyable time now.” The miso-making and tasting demonstrations in Portland, and the recipes featured on the website, seem to be a culmination of all the experience and knowledge she has accumulated over the years. It’s not all about miso soup— she offers recipes that combine the miso with fusion-style dishes. One featured recipe is tortilla pizza with colorful vegetables and mushrooms with a miso mayonnaise sauce.

Making Miso in Portland with Japanese aesthetics and sensibilities

Since Jorinji Miso adheres to making raw miso, its distribution channels are naturally restricted. They sell their products through a limited number of supermarkets in the Portland area and their official website. The company does not distribute its products to large intermediary companies in bulk, instead relying on small local delivery companies or carrying out deliveries directly to minimize the time from order to purchase. To avoid waste as much as possible, Jorinji Miso does their best to fully pack the miso into containers after receiving each order. They carefully remove mold from the surface of the miso barrels as they check the level of maturity. Through this process, they say that no matter how meticulous the preparation, there is an inevitable amount of loss which is always painful to see. They talk to their miso as it ferments, telling it to “become tasty,”  as the bacteria are living creatures—— it’s moving to see how they spare no efforts to make their miso.

The commitment is not only seen in the miso-making process, but also in the containers and labels. While miso sold in supermarkets primarily relies on plastic, for direct sales they use only glass jars and paper containers. The labels are easy to peel off, making it easy for buyers to reuse the glass containers. The uncompromising attention to detail, which one might not notice unless told, reflects sensibilities and characteristics of Japanese products.

When chefs from local restaurants ask them how to make miso, they generously teach how to do it. Yuri says, “I hope everyone will make miso. It would be fun if Portland became the next miso-making capital after Japan.” Yuri gladly shares her knowledge about authentic miso and fermented food culture. Koji from Jorinji Miso is also used in miso-making events at local schools and around the community. They have encountered many interesting and unique Portlanders, including some customers who enjoy miso dissolved in hot water, and others who find fermented foods “mystifying” and call Yuri and Earnest wizards. Indeed, the more one learns about the miso-making process, the more interesting and magical it becomes. Even if the same ingredients are used in the same place and same quantity, there are differences in the finished product depending on the producer. A Japanese miso craftsman once told me, “The bacteria choose the right person, and miso cannot be made unless the person making it has the right spirit.

In New York, people are already familiar with the unique Japanese taste: dashi, umami, and other flavors characteristic of the cuisine. It’s not all about sushi and ramen. Earnest, whose father is a second-generation Japanese American and mother is from Aomori, grew up with homemade miso soup and pickles. During his college days, when there were far fewer Japanese restaurants or places stocking Japanese ingredients than there are now, he grew sick of the dry pizzas and hamburgers at hand. When he moved to Yokohama for work at the age of 25 and came across gyudon, yakitori, soba stalls, and Japanese sweets, he realized that the Japanese food he had been eating in Portland was very limited. When asked about the current awareness of Japanese food and miso in Portland, he replied, “There is a mix of authentic American fermented foods and Japanese food. Consumer tastes are changing in line with diverse food cultures, such as gluten-free and vegan, but things have calmed down a bit now. We wonder what the next trend will be, but all we can do is continue to produce miso that we are satisfied with.”

Cooperation Kazumasa Kobayashi
Translation Fumiko.M

The post The Magic of Portland’s Jorinji Miso: Bringing Happiness and Health Through Miso appeared first on TOKION - Cutting edge culture and fashion information.

During the period of internment, Seattle’s economy grew rapidly due to the demand for military aircraft, which led to rapid population growth. The areas that had formerly housed Japanese Americans were transformed, and many of them who returned to Japantown from the internment camps after the war ended up moving to other cities. As a result, the number of stores owned by Japanese Americans decreased gradually.

In 1951, William F. Devin, then mayor of Seattle, renamed the district the “International Center” to reflect the diversity in residents, which included African-Americans, Japanese, Chinese, and Filipinos. The name stuck for a while. In the 1980s, Seattle welcomed thousands of new immigrants from Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia, who settled and established businesses in the Rainier Valley, south of the district. Today, the 12th Street and Jackson Street area is known as “Little Saigon.” Eventually, the neighborhood was renamed CID in 1998 after years of protests by those who feared that the term “international” would undermine the history of the Chinese community that settled in the area first.

KOBO Seattle
Japanese American, Binko Chiong Bisbee and her husband, John Bisbee opened an arts and crafts store on Capitol Hill in Seattle in 1995, featuring works by artists from Japan and the American Northwest. In 2004, they opened their second art gallery and store, KOBO at Higo, in the Chinatown-International District. The store’s name comes from the Japanese word “kobo,” meaning “studio,” and it specializes in both traditional and contemporary artwork. The store organizes craft and design exhibitions by selected artists six times a year. The store presents works with a minimalist aesthetic. They hope that the customers are inspired by the works of the artists, which use natural and organic resources.
https://koboseattle.com/

Nestled amidst a district that mirrors the history of immigration and diversity

The CID can be divided into three main areas these days: “Little Saigon,” “Chinatown” around King Street, and “Japantown” on Main street where Japanese American stores and lodging facilities have been located since before the war.

While it is difficult to find a trace of the old Japantown today, several notable buildings still exist as they were in those days. One of them is the Higo Variety Store, a general merchandise store, which was opened by Sanzo Murakami in 1932. He immigrated to Seattle from Kumamoto in 1909. Today, the store is an art gallery and store, KOBO at Higo, selling arts and crafts that highlight Japanese craftsmanship.

The owners of KOBO are an American couple, Binko Chiong-Bisbee and John Bisbee. Binko’s father, originally from Taiwan, was educated in Japan and the U.S. He died when Binko was still an infant. Her mother, a Japanese American, was from California and spoke Japanese fluently. Binko was born in Tokyo and spoke Japanese as her first language. After her father passed away, the family moved to Seattle when she was six. She went to an elementary school in Japantown and remembers visiting the shops in the area including Higo Variety Store with her mother. She accompanied her mother to visit their relatives in Wakayama when they made trips to Japan. Their relatives from Japan would also visit them in Seattle.  Her mother, who lived in Japan for 18 years, enjoyed art, often taking Binko to museums whenever they traveled to see their uncles and aunts in New York City and in California.  Her mother also collected Japanese handmade pottery and folkcrafts from her visits to Japan which were art pieces that were used in the home. 

When Binko moved to New York City to attend graduate school, she met John. He worked for an architectural firm in the city and the two decided to move to Tokyo for one year to learn more about Japan. One year turned into five years. John ended up working  for a large Japanese architectural company which created opportunities to work on many large-scale projects. John with his deep knowledge of design and Binko’s interest in folk arts and ceramics, traveled extensively around  Japan, meeting craftsmen, captivated by their craftmanship and process.

“We met so many people in Japan and made many friends. In the meantime, we began to understand what it meant to be a craftsman in Japan and we wanted to introduce their crafts to the Americans. In the U.S., if you were a craftsman, you probably started making your crafts only after a few years of practice. However, in Japan, you start as an apprentice to a craftsman. The first task is cleaning the studio and taking care of peripheral matters other than the craft itself. It takes a long time until you are allowed to create something. For example, you may start with making one shape for many years. Once you master the skills to make that shape perfectly, you are allowed to move on to making a different shape.”

Binko cherished the experience of interacting with the craftsmen in Japan. She could also use her Japanese again and grew closer to her roots.   She still remembers vividly how the craftsmen welcomed her warmly into their studios.

Striving to be different by presenting Japanese culture that is unexpectedly fun and exciting 

KOBO gallery and shop features everything from traditional Japanese crafts to goods inspired by contemporary culture. In addition, the store features work by artists from the Pacific Northwest who are inspired or influenced by Japan. The store’s appeal lies in its unconventional approach to curating a wide range of work. Binko says, “It’s not about whether it may sell or not. Mostly, it’s my instinct. ‘Am I excited to show this in my shop?’”

Binko continued, “I choose works based on my sensibilities. It has to resonate with me and I have to feel connected to a product or work. Most selections convey Japanese sensibilities for example, a reverence for nature or the beauty of ma (pause)  and blank spaces. When I say that, it means when you have a blank canvas and the it surface does not need to be completely filled in. The works by American artists I choose also evoke sensibilities similar to Japanese ones. When people talk about Japanese design, they often cite Hiroshige and Hokusai, but there are so many wonderful aspects of Japanese culture that go beyond that. For example, Japanese food. One of our staff members bought some snacks as a souvenir from Japan. Those were so-called dagashi, affordable snacks for children, and when you eat them, they are so addictive and delicious. It puts us in a joyful mood. It is hard to explain in words, but what we strive to do is to present different aspects of Japanese culture that is fun and full of surprises.”

The shop is known for having employees with knowledge of Japanese traditions and crafts. Binko said, “We have many Japanese staff working at KOBO. A lot of them studied art and design. Others learn about the artists and designers we work with by being in this environment.  For some customers, it is difficult for them to know how a piece was made. We  try to be available to explain the process of how a piece is made or how to use something that is traditional in Japanese culture.” 

It has been 27 years since they began introducing Japanese arts and crafts to their customers in Seattle. During the pandemic, their online sales increased dramatically, which led to expanding their market outside of the Pacific Northwest to places like New York, Minnesota, and Florida. Binko feels that the market for Japanese craftsmanship has developed over the years. “As more people travel, the number of people who can tell the difference between Japanese, Chinese, and Korean cultures has increased considerably. 

“When we first started KOBO, several family members and friends were concerned if we were going to be able to make a living creating this business. It probably seemed more like a hobby and in the eyes of many, not a sustainable project. However, we stuck with it and built a reputation over time and people began to learn about us.  Our goal is to continue to showcase new artists and create a place that inspires our audience to appreciate the handmade.   We hope next year to make some physical improvements in our space and also travel to Japan to learn more about artists and designers we can feature at KOBO.”

The importance of carrying on the history of Japanese Americans

The first KOBO store is located on Capitol Hill, an area lined with boutiques, galleries, and restaurants, and is home to a thriving LGBTQ+ community. On the other hand, KOBO at Higo, the second store in the CID, has a distinct atmosphere. This probably has to do with the legacy of the space previously known as the Higo Variety Store, which stood on the same premise for 75 years, a place with historical significance – the remnants of Japantown that are still alive today. 

After the war, Sanzo Murakami’s wife and children continued to run the store for many years.  In 2003, Masako, the last surviving member of the Murakami family retired and a decision was made to close the business. 

Binko said, “We were introduced to Paul Murakami, Masako’s nephew, by a friend and decided to create the second KOBO gallery and shop in the larger space. Initially we were concerned about how we would improve such a large space.  There would be a financial cost and operational concerns like staffing and stocking inventory.  John’s background as an architectural designer and project manager helped us create a plan to incrementally and in phases renovate and update the space. In part for financial reasons, we made as few changes as possible. But it also helped preserve the history of Japantown, leaving the ceilings, walls, outside signage, and other things as they were. We painted and repurposed old cabinetry and made old elements into something new.”

Although it’s temporarily closed due to the pandemic now, KOBO has a museum section with display cases from the original Higo store, and suitcases of the former owner’s family when they were interned. The space was included as part of the Japantown Discovery Tours organized by the Wing Luke Museum, which tells the history of Asian Americans in Seattle.

There are other notable places to visit in Japantown: Maneki, the oldest Japanese restaurant in North America, which opened in 1904; the Panama Hotel, which housed the only remaining Japanese-style public bathhouse in North America, Hashidate-yu, which closed in 1963. The Panama Hotel was designated as a National Historic Landmark in 2006.

 “It was Jan, the owner of the Panama Hotel, who inspired us to open the store in Japantown. She was renovating the hotel and adding a cafe. We were encouraged and excited by what she was doing with the hotel.”

The CID remains to be a place with diversity and commitment to carrying on the history and culture of the people who lived there. There are ties formed among them and allowed them to discuss and help each other when necessary.

Binko said, “Many stores closed due to the pandemic and the district became unsafe and at one point. We are still experiencing the impact of the last two and a half years. I am generally optimistic about our community and neighborhood but we have to remain active in preserving and protecting our neighborhood from negative elements. Japantown and the CID make up a very important and special place in Seattle. As for KOBO, we are always learning new aspects of Japanese culture and design and hope to continue to share this with our audience.”

■References: Washington State History, Japanese American National Museum, Discover Nikkei, The Wing Luke Museum

Translation Fumiko.M

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