Rise Of A Japanese Chinatown

"Rise of a Japanese Chinatown is the first English-language monograph on the history of a Chinese immigrant community in Japan. It focuses on the transformations of that population in the Japanese port city of Yokohama from the Sino–Japanese War of 1894–1895 to the normalization of Sino–Japanese ties in 1972 and beyond. Eric C. Han narrates the paradoxical story of how, during periods of war and peace, Chinese immigrants found an enduring place within a monoethnic state.This study makes a significant contribution to scholarship on the construction of Chinese and Japanese identities and on Chinese migration and settlement. Using local newspapers, Chinese and Japanese government records, memoirs, and conversations with Yokohama residents, it retells the familiar story of Chinese nation building in the context of Sino-Japanese relations. But it builds on existing works by directing attention as well to non-elite Yokohama Chinese, those who sheltered revolutionary activists and served as an audience for their nationalist messages. Han also highlights contradictions between national and local identifications of these Chinese, who self-identified as Yokohama-ites (hamakko) without claiming Japaneseness or denying their Chineseness. Their historical role in Yokohama’s richly diverse cosmopolitan past can offer insight into a future, more inclusive Japan."

The Grand Voyage on the Holland America flagship Amsterdam to Asia and the Pacific remains one of the most memorable adventures I have had the privilege of being part of. I was thrilled to join the ship in San Diego California, listening to world-class scholars offering in-depth lectures on the places we would visit and to then see these countries first-hand. This volume reviews the port of San Diego, the point of departure, and the ship's visits to several ports of call in Japan. While these ports were interesting, research on Japan’s long reach of history offers up many troubling aspects of this unique people. I pondered their history and unique way of looking at themselves and the rest of the world. How is it possible, for example, for a people to create the highest forms of etiquette and graceful decorum, and to then conduct themselves with utter contempt for basic morality towards others? During World War Two, the massacres committed by the Japanese army in nearly every quadrant of their military and political reach during the Showa Empire begs the question of how common decency and ethical behavior can be so thoroughly absent as if it never existed? Even today, the Japanese government refuses to acknowledge or offer a public apology for wartime acts done during this period. I explore this very troubling issue, wondering where the lines of civility and conformity begin and end. The Japanese are a strange people, and I was frustrated at these two extremes of exemplary behavior and simultaneous contempt of others. It is my contention that a refusal to acknowledge the past, in conjunction with a reappraisal of what went wrong in that previous leadership, will eventually and inevitably force this issue into the present. There is therefore a huge divergence between the Germans and the Japanese. The former reappraised their horrific past, recognizing that a change from that past is a mandatory aspect of their social discourse. Even a Nazi salute in Germany is outlawed and a criminal offense. In contrast, the Japanese have barely tolerated criticisms of its own leaders during that period of darkness. This is a troubling volume in which I explore with an open mind, wondering if there is an answer to these troubling questions. In the Shinto Directive, formulated and implemented by General MacArthur following Japan's unconditional surrender, formalized belief in the emperor's divinity was outlawed. Today, beautiful Shinto shrines dot the Japanese countryside. Citizens can be seen washing hands and rinsing their mouths before entering these sacred spaces, then lighting incense while offering a prayer. Inevitably, I wonder as to the moral component of a people who are outwardly decorous, even recreating the common toothpick into a form of exceptional grace, while being unable to acknowledge common humanity. There are also modern aspects of Japanese society that are difficult to comprehend. Thousands of Japanese youth, for reasons that defy common sense, give up on themselves and their future by adopting the hikikomori lifestyle, living in their parent’s home, not interacting with their peers, and even refusing to emerge from their bedrooms for decades. Parents tolerate this odd behavior, refusing to confront their child, even refusing to acknowledge the presence of their child as the years pass. Similarly, are the jouhatsu, people who suddenly and without the slightest outward change, suddenly and inexplicably, disappear. Desperate to find the loved one, the government refuses to assist because of Japanese strict privacy laws. I describe these aspects of Japanese society, together with others similarly different from Western society. These are aspects of the ‘Asian face’ – that inscrutable and essentially unknown quantum, so different from that of the West. Knowing the facts, together with the statistics accompanying those facts, does not imply understanding the. As a Westerner, I review these manifestations without understanding the Japanese ‘soul,’ its core identity and substance. I can, therefore, only recount the facts and leave the rest to the reader. These questions aside, I very much enjoyed walking Japanese streets, riding its trains, and seeing its people. I also had occasion to chat with several Japanese who expressed surprise at my awareness of their culture, while I was unable to adequately answer my queries. And they too seemed perplexed by my queries, confounded by the imponderables dividing the Western the Eastern way of living a life.

Explores Sino-Japanese relations through encounters that took place between each country's people living at the margins of empire.

Fresh out of college, Gesshin Claire Greenwood found her way to a Buddhist monastery in Japan and was ordained as a Buddhist nun. Zen appealed to Greenwood because of its all-encompassing approach to life and how to live it, its willingness to face life’s big questions, and its radically simple yet profound emphasis on presence, reality, the now. At the monastery, she also discovered an affinity for working in the kitchen, especially the practice of creating delicious, satisfying meals using whatever was at hand — even when what was at hand was bamboo. Based on the philosophy of oryoki, or “just enough,” this book combines stories with recipes. From perfect rice, potatoes, and broths to hearty stews, colorful stir-fries, hot and cold noodles, and delicate sorbet, Greenwood shows food to be a direct, daily way to understand Zen practice. With eloquent prose, she takes readers into monasteries and markets, messy kitchens and predawn meditation rooms, and offers food for thought that nourishes and delights body, mind, and spirit.

Writing Technology in Meiji Japan boldly rethinks the origins of modern Japanese language, literature, and visual culture from the perspective of media history. Drawing upon methodological insights by Friedrich Kittler and extensive archival research, Seth Jacobowitz investigates a range of epistemic transformations in the Meiji era (1868–1912), from the rise of communication networks such as telegraph and post to debates over national language and script reform. He documents the changing discursive practices and conceptual constellations that reshaped the verbal, visual, and literary regimes from the Tokugawa era. These changes culminate in the discovery of a new vernacular literary style from the shorthand transcriptions of theatrical storytelling (rakugo) that was subsequently championed by major writers such as Masaoka Shiki and Natsume Sōseki as the basis for a new mode of transparently objective, “transcriptive” realism. The birth of modern Japanese literature is thus located not only in shorthand alone, but within the emergent, multimedia channels that were arriving from the West. This book represents the first systematic study of the ways in which media and inscriptive technologies available in Japan at its threshold of modernization in the late nineteenth to early twentieth century shaped and brought into being modern Japanese literature.

This book tackles the question of border control in and around imperial Japan in the first half of the twentieth century, with a specific focus on its documentation regime. It explores the institutional development, media and literary discourses, and on[1]the-ground practices of documentary identification in the Japanese empire and the places visited by its subjects. The contributing authors, covering such regions as Korea, Manchuria, Taiwan, Siberia, Australia, and the United States, place the question of individual identity in the eyes of the respective governments in dialogue with the global developments of the identification and mobility control practices. The chapters suggest the importance of focusing more than previously on the narrative of individual identification, not as a tool for creating nation states but as a tool for generating, strengthening, and maintaining asymmetrical relationships between people of different socioeconomic backgrounds who moved in and out of empires. This book joins the effort in the recent scholarship in migration history to highlight experiences of migrants beyond the transatlantic world, and that in East Asian history to investigate the space and connections beyond the boundaries of the nation states. By bringing together the analyses on the trans-Pacific mobility and Japan’s imperial expansion and its aftermath in East Asia, it shows a complex interplay between state power and moving individuals, two forces whose relationships went far beyond simple competition.

"Ennobling Japan’s Savage Northeast is the first comprehensive account in English of the discursive life of the Tōhoku region in postwar Japan from 1945 through 2011. The Northeast became the subject of world attention with the March 2011 triple disaster of earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear meltdown. But Tōhoku’s history and significance to emic understandings of Japanese self and nationhood remain poorly understood. When Japan embarked on its quest to modernize in the mid-nineteenth century, historical prejudice, contemporary politics, and economic calculation together led the state to marginalize Tōhoku, creating a “backward” region in both fact and image. After 1945, a group of mostly local intellectuals attempted to overcome this image and rehabilitate the Northeast as a source of new national values. This early postwar Tōhoku recuperation movement has proved to be a critical source for the new Kyoto school’s neoconservative valorization of native Japanese identity, fueling that group’s antimodern, anti-Western discourse since the 1980s.Nathan Hopson unravels the contested postwar meanings of Tōhoku to reveal the complex and contradictory ways in which that region has been incorporated into Japan’s shifting self-images since World War II."

Famine Relief in Warlord China is a reexamination of disaster responses during the greatest ecological crisis of the pre-Nationalist Chinese republic. In 1920–1921, drought and ensuing famine devastated more than 300 counties in five northern provinces, leading to some 500,000 deaths. Long credited to international intervention, the relief effort, Pierre Fuller shows, actually began from within Chinese social circles. Indigenous action from the household to the national level, modeled after Qing-era relief protocol, sustained the lives of millions of the destitute in Beijing, in the surrounding districts of Zhili (Hebei) Province, and along the migrant and refugee trail in Manchuria, all before joint foreign–Chinese international relief groups became a force of any significance. Using district gazetteers, stele inscriptions, and the era’s vibrant Chinese press, Fuller reveals how a hybrid civic sphere of military authorities working with the public mobilized aid and coordinated migrant movement within stricken communities and across military domains. Ultimately, the book’s spotlight on disaster governance in northern China in 1920 offers new insights into the social landscape just before the region’s descent, over the next decade, into incessant warfare, political struggle, and finally the normalization of disaster itself.