In an age without a world, spreading meaningless love.
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Editorial preface: These are the author’s answers to two separate questions. We have brought them together in one article, but the two answers clearly do not form a continuous discussion. Please bear that in mind!
Answer: Why do some Japanese people feel nostalgic for the Shōwa era?
In Japan, “Shōwa nostalgia” is a mass-cultural phenomenon, not the aesthetic preference of a small circle. The phenomenon is widely held to have begun with Always: Sunset on Third Street (2005). (Of course, some people were fond of the Shōwa era before that, but they were a small minority; nostalgia for it had not reached a mass audience.) Abe Shinzō likes this film too, so much so that he made a point of mentioning it in his book. Not only that: when leaders from other countries visit Japan, he sometimes asks them to watch it before coming, so that they can discuss it together once they arrive.
Uno Tsunehiro offers an incisive analysis of this cultural phenomenon in “Shōwa Nostalgia and Rape Fantasy.”1 The message of Always: Sunset on Third Street, a film that brings Shōwa back to life, is unmistakable: Shōwa was an age when people were poor, but their inner lives were rich. This moved a number of Japanese viewers, for two reasons:
- It was an age when anyone could receive recognition. It was a society of human warmth, in contrast to the indifference of modern society.
- The age itself would guarantee that your efforts had meaning: as long as you worked hard, the future could be better.
This is clearly an “imaginary resolution” of the problems of contemporary Japanese society. Uno points out that the “unfree but warm” society of Shōwa 30–39 (1955–64) was the exact opposite of the “cold but free” society of today—the 2000s.
But Uno rightly points out that the Shōwa depicted in Always: Sunset on Third Street is nothing more than an ice-cold utopia, built by concealing the various negative aspects of society at the time. Films like this encourage viewers to “stop thinking.” In fact, they use the same device as sekaikei works.2 So-called Shōwa nostalgia is actually a product of the imagination of the 2000s. How great Shōwa was has little to do with Shōwa itself, and rather more to do with people’s talent for masturbatory fantasy.
Answer: How do Japanese people view Jin Yong’s work?
Jin Yong’s books first appeared in Japan through Tokuma Shoten in 1996. The Book and the Sword sold extremely well, and its first printing quickly sold out. This reassured Tokuma Shoten, which went on to publish all of Jin Yong’s wuxia (martial-arts) novels. This is very unusual: as far as I know, the only Chinese authors whose complete works have been translated into Japanese in the modern era are Lu Xun and Lao She.
At first, many Japanese readers regarded Jin Yong as China’s Yoshikawa Eiji (a nationally beloved Japanese writer who excelled at depicting swordsmen). In NHK’s 2002 Chinese-language course, Jin Yong’s translator chose The Legend of the Condor Heroes as teaching material, helping his work spread more quickly. As many other respondents have already mentioned, Jin Yong has had some influence on Japanese subculture, particularly evident in one Gundam installment and some of Urobuchi Gen’s works. The Flowers of Evil also includes a scene paying parodic homage to Jin Yong. Sony once released a Japanese-language game of The Legend of the Condor Heroes. (And now there are online games too.) The Legend of Condor Hero, the Hong Kong–Japanese animated adaptation of The Return of the Condor Heroes, aired in Japan. Japanese Jin Yong fans have also formed many fan groups, with the Kantō and Kansai Jin Yong Fan Guilds among the better-known ones. Hase Seishū, the famous Japanese novelist and Hong Kong enthusiast, has heaped praise on Jin Yong too. Judging by the preface he wrote for the edition of Gu Long’s Duoqing Jianke Wuqing Jian (The Sentimental Swordsman and the Ruthless Sword) that I read, though, I’d say he probably likes Gu Long a little more.
I’ve read many Japanese readers’ comments on Jin Yong’s work on Bookmeter (Japan’s counterpart to the Chinese cultural-review site Douban). What’s interesting is that many of them read Jin Yong’s work as light novels.3 Take this comment by Ōtori-chan (オオトリちゃん):
映画やドラマは観ていたが、原作小説を読む機会になかなか恵まれなかった。中国で絶大な人気を誇るラノベ…武侠小説の名手 金庸先生。これは面白いぜ！一気呵成、寸暇を惜しんで読了だ。舞台は中国史上最も争乱に満ちた宋～元の時代。狡獪な金の邪悪な策謀も魅力的だが、やっぱり武侠の必殺技・異名は、中二の心をくすぐられるのよねぇ～「江南七怪」「黄河四鬼」「奥義・九陰白骨爪」「越女神剣」か、かっけー！いずれはあの主人公も内功を極めて無双するんですね分かります。美少女ロリ王蓉たそに、美人の姐さん師匠連れて…羨ましいぞ！
English translation of the Japanese comment:4
I’d seen the films and TV dramas, but never quite had the chance to read the original novels. Jin Yong, master of China’s hugely popular light novels…wuxia novels. This stuff is great! I tore through it, snatching every spare moment to finish. It’s set in the most strife-torn period in Chinese history, from the Song to the Yuan. The devious Jin dynasty’s evil schemes have their appeal, but it’s those wuxia finishing moves and nicknames that really get my inner eighth-grader going—“The Seven Freaks of Jiangnan,” “The Four Ghosts of the Yellow River,” “Secret Technique: Nine Yin White-Bone Claw,” “Divine Sword of the Yue Maiden.” S-so cool! Sooner or later our hero, too, will master his internal power and wipe the floor with everyone—I know how this goes. With pretty loli Wang Rong-taso and a gorgeous older woman as his martial-arts teacher in tow… I’m jealous!
The author’s abridged Chinese rendering, translated into English:
I’ve seen films and TV dramas adapted from Jin Yong, but never had the chance to read the originals. Master Jin Yong, hugely popular in China for his light novels…no…his wuxia novels. The novel is great; I raced through it, making every moment count…[passage omitted] Sure enough, the names of those martial-arts techniques really stir my inner eighth-grader… The hero has pretty loli Huang Rong-chan and a beautiful older woman for a teacher. I’m jealous!
Although plenty of young Japanese readers feel they’re reading light novels whatever they read, Jin Yong’s case is a little different. The stock characters running through his writing might actually have something to do with the Japanese light-novel database.5 (After all, many characters in today’s light novels are still drawn indirectly from figures in traditional literary classics, while many classic Japanese literary characters were themselves drawn from Chinese classics. And Jin Yong’s novels are a special kind of classic, while light novels are a special kind of character novel, so… Comparative literature and cultural studies, please follow this up. Thank you!)
And with the way Jin Yong’s novels are packaged in Japan, it really does feel like reading light novels. The covers of the early editions were plainer—there weren’t even any people on them. Now they look more and more like anime and manga. I reckon it won’t be long before pretty girls start appearing on the covers. (Knowing grin.)
By Jin Yong.
One last thing I’d like to add: Japanese translations of Jin Yong’s novels generally split each original volume into several volumes, each with a newly devised subtitle. For example, volume one of The Book and the Sword is called Secret Society: The Red Flower Society; volume two, The Qianlong Emperor’s Secret; volume three, Flower of the Desert: The Fragrant Concubine; and volume four, Showdown in the Forbidden City.
Editor’s note:
And what if my conscience isn’t clear…?6