The weather here has turnedโwell and truly, finallyโto winter. Which means both dusky days, and winter birds.
Many of the birds I associate with winter, like white eyes or long-tailed tits, are present year round but are more visible because of bare branches. Others, like the ducks that stop on the rivers, are just passing through. All are welcome sights, though, making the cold walks worth it.
Here are some I spotted today, December 21, 2024. For the record.
It’s inevitable, I guess, to get retrospective at this time of year. I’ve more or less stopped keeping careful track of things like media consumptionโno Goodreads lists for me, thank youโbut it’s still sometimes interesting to review. And so, here is a non-comprehensive list of things that I remember enjoying very much in 2024. Travel, books, TV, whatever, I’m not going to be strict. These are all things that made my 2024 a better year than it would otherwise have been.
First up, I visited Inbe in Bizen, Okayama several times this year. It was wonderful. I met potters, enjoyed the scenery, and learned about its history and culture in a way that was vibrant and exciting.
Another thing that made my 2024 better was engaging more actively and thoughtfully in photography. I’ve written about it before, but even apart from whatever high-minded ideas about “art” or “creativity” people want to layer onto it, the very fact of engaging in a new expressive medium has been great. I have been a “word guy” all my life. Trying to be an “image guy” now is really something special for me.
In the world of books, there have been a few standouts. The one that stands largest in my memory is The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera, which I reviewed on this blog. There’s not much else to say about it, except that its weight in my memory has only grown with time. Read it.
I also read and loved Premee Mohamed‘s The Siege of Burning Grass. It is a fantasy story set in a world at war, but the central protagonist is a true pacifist despite the brutal social pressures on being a good, patriotic subject of empire. It is a story about the irrationality of war and the true courage that is pacifism, and the pain that occurs when those are placed in irredeemable conflict. I should have reviewed it more thoroughly. It deserves much thought and rereading.
Another standout is the Japanese-language only (so far) horror book Kinkichiho no aru basho ni tsuite (About a certain place in the Kinki region) by Sesuji. It’s a “mocumentary” horror book that presents itself as a collection of research materials for a magazine, but ends up telling a story of generational evil, the terrors of the Japanese countryside, and creepy stuff in general. I loved it. I think the translation rights have been sold, but that is so far unconfirmed.
In related media, I still think about Fake Documentary Q a lot. I wish the book had been better.
Apart from all the old music I mostly listen to (shout out to Eric Satie’s Gymnopรฉdies), the new album I listened to most is Daudi Matsiko’s The King of Misery. It seems perhaps inappropriate to talk about “enjoyment” regarding such an emotionally shredding/shredded work of art, but it is beautiful and alive and well worth listening to.
And, lest anyone get the idea that I went all high-brow and Big-C Cultural in 2024, I also watched the hell out of the Reacher series on Amazon Prime because there’s something unironically appealing about watching a very big man murder the fuck out of the Bad Guys.
What were some things that made your 2024 less terrible?
I find myself skipping a few articles that touched on personal matters that, while are fine for the local community, I’m not sure I want out in the whole world. But anyway. Here’s a somewhat (but not entirely) belated article about autumn’s sake, Hiyaoroshi.
ๆฅๆฌ้ ใฎๅญฃ่ช๏ผใฒใใใใ
ใใใใ็งใใใฃใฆใใพใใ็พๅณใใ้ฃๆใใใใใๆกใใๆๆใงไฝใซๆใฟใๆ็ใๆฌกใ ใซใงใฆใใพใใใใใฆใใใกใใๆฅๆฌ้ ใใใใใๅญฃ็ฏใงใใ
ๅๅ ต่กใฏ็งใจ่จใฃใใใใฒใใใใใใงใใ้ ๅบใในใใผใฎๆฃใซใฏ็ด ่่ฒใฎใฉใใซใใใใใไธฆใใงใใใฎใ่ฆใใใจใใใใใใใใพใใใใใใฏ็ใใฒใใใใใใใใใ็งใใใใใงใใๆฅๆฌ้ ๆฅญ็ใฎ็ง้ ใงใใ
ๅ ใ ๆฅๆฌ้ ้ ใใฎๆๆใฏ็งใใๆฅใซใใใฆๅคงไฝ4ใๆๅๅพใงไปใฎๆๆใซใฏๆฐ้ ใใปใจใใฉใใใพใใใไปใใๅบใฆใใใใฒใใใใใใฏๅๆใฎๆฅใงใใผใฃใๆฅๆฌ้ ใงใใใงใใใใ ใใงใฏใชใใใใใคใฎ็นๅพดใใใใใพใใ
ๆฅๆฌ้ ใฏ้ๅธธใ็ซๅ ฅใจใใๆฎบ่ใปๅฎๅฎๅใฎๆ้ ใไบๅ่กใใพใใๅบๆฅไธใใฃใ้ ใๆพใใใฎใใจ่ฒฏ่ตใฟใณใฏใซๅ ฅใใ้ใซไธๅใใฟใณใฏใใ็ถ่ฉฐใฎๆใซไธๅใๆฎ้ใงใใใ็้ ใใฏ็ซๅ ฅใใใใฆใใใใใ็่ฒฏ่ตใใฏๆๅใฎ็ซๅ ฅใใใใฆใใชใๆๅณใจใ็่ฉฐใใใฏไบๅ็ฎใฎ็ถ่ฉฐใฎ็ซๅ ฅใใใใใฆใใพใใใใใฒใใใใใใฏ็่ฉฐใฎๆฅๆฌ้ ใงใใ
ใใใฆใใฒใใใใใใฏ่ปฝใ็ๆใใใๆฅๆฌ้ ใงใใๆฅใซๆพใฃใใใจ็ซๅ ฅใใใใฆใฟใณใฏ่ฒฏ่ตใใใพใใๆใๅคใฎใใใ ใซ็ๆใใใใใฆๆถผใใ็งใๆฅใใ็ถ่ฉฐใใๅบ่ทใใใพใใๆใฎ้ ่ตใฏไปใใใ่ก็็ถๆ ใๅชใใฆใใใๅท่ตๆ่กใใชใใฃใใใๅพฎ็็ฉใๆดป็บใงใฏใชใๆถผใใๆๆใซใใใใฃใใ็ซๅ ฅใใใใฆใใชใๆฅๆฌ้ ใๅบ่ทใใใใใใงใใใงใ็ซๅ ฅใ่ชไฝใฏๆฅๆฌ้ ใฎๅณใๅฃๅฝใใใซๅฝฑ้ฟใไธใใใฎใงใใงใใใใใฎใพใพใฎไธ็ช็พๅณใใใ็ๆๆใใ็ใใใซๅฑใใใๆฐๆใกใใใใฒใใใใใใ่ช็ใใใใใใงใใ
ใใฎๅๅใฏ็ดๆฅ็ใซใใฎไบใซใ้ขใใใใใใใใงใใ็ขบ่จผใใใพใใใใใฒใใใใใใจใใ่จ่ใฎ็ฑๆฅใซใใฎ่ชฌใใใใพใใใ้ ใไบๅ็ฎใฎ็ซๅ ฅใใใใใๅทใใใใ็ถๆ ใง็ถ่ฉฐใใฆๅฎขใใใซใใใใใใใ่ชฌๅพๅใใใพใใใใ
ใจใใใงใ็งไธใใใใฎๆฌๆฅใฎๆๅณใฏใ็งใพใงใญใใใใๅณใไธใใฃใ๏ผ่ฏใใชใฃใ๏ผใใฎใใ ใใใงใใใจใใไบใฏใใใจใใจๅ็งฐใใใๅณใฎ่ชฌๆใฎใใใชใใฎใงใใใงใไปใฏใปใจใใฉใใฒใใใใใใจๅใๆๅณใจใใฆๅผใฐใใใใจใๅคใใใใงใใ็ดฐใใ้ใใใใใใใใใพใใใใใใฏ้ ่ตใฎใใ ใใใซใใใจๆใใพใใ
้ฃใใ่ฉฑใฏๅฅใจใใฆใใฒใใใใใใฏ็งใฎๅณใซใดใฃใใใชๆฅๆฌ้ ใซ้้ใใชใใงใใๅคใฎ้ใซ่ฝใก็ใใฆ็ๆใซใใฃใฆๆจๅณใๅขใใใพใใใใซใชใฃใๅฟๅฐ่ฏใๅณใใใๆๅพ ใใฆ็้ ใซใใใฎใๆฏๅนดใฎๅๅ ต่กใฎๆฅฝใใฟใงใใใใกใใๅใใใใงใใ
ๅฑฑๅฃ็ใฎ็พๅณ็ง้ ใใใใใใใใพใใๅ ๅธใซ่ฟใ่ตใจ่จใฃใใ้ ไบ้ ้ (ๅฒฉๅฝๅธ)ใฎไบๆฉใใใฉใฟใณใใฒใใใใใใจไธญๅณถๅฑ้ ้ ๅ ด(ๅจๅๅธ)ใฎใไธญๅณถๅฑใ็งไธใใใใใใใจใๅฑฑ้ฝๅฐ้็ฐๅธใฎๆฐธๅฑฑ้ ้ ใฎใๅฑฑ็ฟใใฒใใใใใใๅคงใฎใใใใใงใใๆฏ้่ฟใใฎ้ ๅฑใใใงๆขใใฆใฟใฆใใ ใใใ
There is a part of me that is almost embarrassed at the fact that, after having written and published one book, and having three translations published, with two more scheduled in the next year, I am JUST NOW realizing that hey, maybe I’m not just faking this? Maybe I’m in the book business?
I have been a reader since, well, ever. I think I started reading when I was five, and by the time I was in first grade I was burning through the library. Books were just… There. They were a fundamental building block of my identity. It’s not even something I consciously thought about, but hey. I love books and the reading (and purchasing, borrowing, lending, touching etc. thereof) about as much as anything I can think of.
And of course I always toyed with writing, the way a cat toys with a mouse that it never really intends to eat. “Someday, I shall pounce and then success will be mine!” I would think, while my prey sneaked away, limping but triumphant. Because, of course, writing takes perseverance and dedication and effort, and I sometimes fail to find those virtues in stock.
But now that I am not only someone whose name is on book covers, but someone whose name is familiar to PUBLISHERS and AUTHORS (a famous horror author just posted a pic of his ARC of Strange Pictures, with my name on the cover!!!), I think I can finally admit… This is something that I’ve wanted, without really knowing it, all my life.
I think I must have always wanted to be a book person. A writer, an editor, a guy in the biz. And I think that’s what I’ve got now. I’m visiting a book publisher and two international rights agencies in Tokyo at the end of the month. When I mentioned I would like to visit, they all said “Great! We’d love to meet! When?” rather than “Who are you again?”
The feeling of that. Theโadmittedly ego-centric, selfish, privileged, yes, I am so privileged and lucky but stillโDAMN GOOD feeling of it is something else. I don’t deserve to have this good a life, but it’s here. So I guess I’ll live it.
Anyway. Feels good to get that off my chest.
You know what also feels good? My name in a starred review in Publishers Weekly.
By the way, please maybe consider buying my book, Discovering Yamaguchi Sake. And the ones I translated that are also kind of mine. Thank you!
It recently dawned on me that I have been a member of the Hikari Shayukai photo club for a year now. I wrote about joining in this post: Never Too Old to Polish. It seems like a good time to reflect on what the club has been like for me.
As a rule, it has been very good. I have learned a lot from the teacher’s advice and from looking at so many other pictures, but more than anything, the ever-present idea that “I need ten good pictures this month” has encouraged mindful photography. I bring my camera everywhere and take pictures in an active way, always looking for something interesting. I am more aware of composition, though still feel unsure of it, and I am better at choosing good pictures over bad. I can say I am definitely a better photographer now than I was this time last year, simply because I have taken so, so many more photos, and paid attention to how I do it.
I still have a way to go, of course. I can be impulsive, and I often find I have missed obvious background problems because I get too caught up in the moment and the subject. But still, progress is progress.
But I am also having some… Doubts, I guess you could call them, about the actual club.
The format I described in the original post has changed a little. It still runs like a little photo competition each month, but instead of one person getting a little prize, there’s a point system now. First place gets five points, second gets three, and third gets two. Everyone else who attends with photos gets 1. No photos/attendance, no points. At the end of the year (for some reason, the fiscal year, meaning March), the person with the highest points gets some kind of prize.
What this has done is turn the class into an actual competition. We see the point totals each week. We feel a sense of actual rivalry with other members. And, I’ll be honest, it hurts that I haven’t gotten a first place once in this last year. The teacher is always very complementary. He has said I have a unique eye and that I find pictures he’s never seen before. He has even chosen some of my pictures and said they should be in shows, and I should keep pursuing these subjects.
But he keeps picking the same goddamn train and little kid pictures. The same people, month after month, get first place. I know that the points and the clapping and the ranking shouldn’t matter, but it really is discouraging. And, I’ll be honest, some of the choices he’s made are flat out wrong. Some of the pictures that get first are beautiful and amazing, but some are crass and boring. It makes me wonder if maybe I’m in the wrong group, if my goals and interests are simply too different.
But, at the same time, I like the people, and it is good to be so engaged in photography. I shouldn’t complain. But I want to, sometimes.
Anyway. Here are some of my favorite pictures of the last year that did not get ranked better than some picture of a steam train.
Jim Rion - Translator & Writer 