I became fascinated with Karen Tei Yamashita when I read her first novel Through the Arc of the Rain Forest. Brazil-Maru is almost as fascinating, though the magical realism in her first novel makes it more attractive to me. This is a story about a community of Japanese settlers in a little place called Esperança near Sao Paulo. But if you were expecting a story of a community making itself and settling in a foreign land, Yamashita is sure to give you her own ‘magical’ twist. This is indeed about a Japanese community in a small town in Brazil. But this is not a typical community. We meet some families and some children as they grow up into men and women, and while we meet them, we see how a whole community is changed, destroyed, rebuilt, through the philosophical ideas and ideals of one man: Kantaro Uno. The novel is divided into 4 chapters, each narrated by one character from Esperança, and an epilogue by a young man in Sao Paulo who knows of the community. The way the four chapters are arranged reminds me of Faulkner’s The Sound and the Fury, or maybe it’s the boy Genji who narrates the last chapter here, and who seems similar to Benji in Faulkner’s novel. Benji’s autism makes him as socially inept as Genji here. I think the best thing to do here is sketch each chapter separately. So here it goes:
Chapter 1: Emile:
This chapter is narrated by Ichiro Terada – nicknamed Emiru after Rouseau’s Emile as he was one of Mizuoko’s early promising students. This part is beautifully told as Ichiro’s memories of his youth in Esperança. Hopeful and young, Ichiro represents an early example of the spirit of an early Japanese community in Brazil. Ichiro tells us of his attraction to the thinking of Kantaro Uno who later becomes the leader of the New World Ranch community. This is an idealistic chapter where Ichiro’s youthful zest and trust in Kantaro’s ideas remain almost untouched, in spite of his awareness as he tells his story, of what Kantaro caused. The chapter ends with these words in which Ichiro’s reflection of his life with Kantaro is most noticeable:
I was there. I stood up with all the others and applauded Kantaro, filled with pride and emotion. … Kantaro’s dreams were undeniably my dreams. I had found my place and my work. There was no longer any confusion in my mind. The rice belonged to Esperança. I belonged.
Chapter 2: Haru:
As chapter 1 ends with Ichiro’s pride in Kantaro, this chapter begins with Kantaro’s wife explaining what she believes to be the reason behind Kantaro’s appeal:
Some people say I married Kantaro because of great love, but they all know that it was really Kantaro who had great love. … Everything Kantaro did in his life, he did because he wanted to. … Kantaro never cared about circumstances. Funny, but it was because he was that sort of man that people have loved him so much.
Haru is a strong wife but a rather uncultivated one in terms of Kantaro’s philosophical ideas. She is more in touch with every member in the community and it is through her that we learn about Kantaro’s strong hold over his commune. His sister Ritsu’s two suitors, Mizuoko (Kantaro’s old mentor) and Heizo (young brother to Kimi, Kantaro’s previous fiancé) were ignored as Kantaro decided to marry Ritsu to his friend Befu. Haru is also the one who tells us about the political turmoil in Brazil as Japan loses the war, and its effect on the people of Esperança and Sao Paulo.
Chapter 3: Kantaro:
By now we’re been anticipating Kantaro’s appearance as a narrator, and Yamashita does not disappoint. After meeting him through the words of his most loyal follower and his wife, we now meet Kantaro himself. And while Ichiro and Haru focus on life in Esperança, Kantaro takes us into the city and through this we learn how he lost all the money that came from the ranch in Esperança to his own exploits in the city, to the apartment he kept for his lover, and to the many other expenses he wasted there. He tells us about the split that happened in the original community and how he continued having followers even after he lost all their money. This is an interesting chapter for we meet the man behind the story. Yet Kantaro’s character here is not half as charming or interesting as the one drawn to us by Ichiro and Haru. But we know here that Kantaro lived, as his wife explained in the previous chapter, only for himself. He describes people’s perception of him here:
Over the years, I have been called many things: a great idealist, a romantic, a dissimulator, a dictator, an actor, even a monster. Shūhei Mizuoka said as much himself many years later, but even he knew that I could not so easily be explained away. The sum of a man’s life is more than a mere word. … Perhaps the people who have said these things about me are jealous, jealous to see that another man has lived his life and destiny to the fullest. As I have said, at every moment in my life, my cup has been brimming over.
Chapter 4: Genji:
Of the many people Kantaro destroyed, Genji’s life has been most wildly affected by Kantaro’s beliefs and teachings.
My first memory is a rather strange one; I am in a basket looking up at the blue sky. … I remember how it was dark in the basket but also how sometimes light might come through the straw in little patters. I could watch the little patterns flicker and change, and there was always some prism of color around the edges. And I remember that there was a hole where I could peek out. … Is it amazing how much you can see with a little light through a tiny hole. Sometimes I think the inside of my head is the same way, dark like inside the basket, and I am looking out through two tiny holes.
Genji is an experiment. One carried out by his father Befu and his uncle Kantaro. He is allowed to be molded, like all the other children in the community, according to the leader’s vision. This is a very interesting chapter. Probably one of my favorite here because in Ganji we see the worst that can happen to a community built on one man’s dream.
I’ve always been partial to Plato’s Republic. The idea of creating a community based on one man’s idealism is fascinating indeed, and extremely dangerous. This is no perfect world of course, but I believe what’s interesting about this novel is that same element that makes Plato’s Republic always a fascinating book to read, whether you agree on its philosophical direction or not. I would want to write more about this novel here, but this is supposed to be a short report, and I have already gone beyond what I expect in a report.
If you can get your hands on it, read it. I applaud Yamashita yet again.
