The Resurgence of Shishi Bunroku

The works of Bunroku Shishi (real name Toyoo Iwata, 1893–1969), a popular author of the Showa era, have been republished one after another in recent years, creating a quiet boom.

After Mr. Makimura wrote the critical biography "Bunroku Shishi's Two Showas" in 2009, we gradually started receiving inquiries from publishers asking to include portions of his work in collections. Then in 2013, a person at Chikuma Bunko who had moved from sales to editorial apparently read my father's work and expressed a strong desire to publish it. The first book republished was "Coffee and Love" (1963). It was very well received and is already in its 17th printing.

That is impressive.

The cover design and other aspects were presented with a fresh perspective. I think it's significant that in addition to readers who used to read my father's old works, a new demographic has become interested. I've heard that young women are also buying them, so I feel he has been blessed with a new readership.

After that, "Seven and a Half Hours" (1960) was released as the second book, and since then, they have been releasing two books a year. Also, Chuko Bunko has been revising and republishing books they had previously released.

"Seishun Kaidan" (Ghost Stories of Youth), for which I wrote the commentary, was released in January, and a reprint was decided within five days of its release. I heard that's the fastest ever, so it really feels like the time is ripe.

Ms. Yamazaki, what was your initial motivation for reading his work?

About 10 years ago, there was a boom among young men and women in the cultural scene to unearth and rediscover Showa-era secondhand books with beautiful cover designs or things that are still interesting to read today. Bunroku Shishi's name came up often back then.

I was also finding and enjoying Bunroku Shishi in secondhand bookstores around that time. For "Coffee and Love," Keiichi Sokabe of the rock band Sunny Day Service wrote the commentary. Because of things like that, Bunroku Shishi's name was quite well-known among people who like retro literature.

At secondhand book fairs run by female shop owners, not only his novels but also many of his essays were on display. Books like "My Food Tour" (1976) and the marriage advice book "Meoto Hyakkei" (100 Scenes of Couples) (1957) were also popular. I made it a point to say "I'm a fan of Bunroku Shishi" whenever I had the chance (laughs).

What other authors do those people read?

Midori Ozaki was very popular. She often wrote about Bunroku Shishi in her diaries, and information like "Midori Ozaki was also a big fan of Bunroku Shishi" was starting to become known.

Of course, we didn't experience Bunroku Shishi's heyday firsthand, but many films remain. So, there was a trend of collecting Bunroku Shishi at secondhand bookstores and simultaneously watching the films at repertory cinemas.

Mr. Makimura, how do you view this recent boom?

When I was young, even if I went to a bookstore wanting to read Bunroku Shishi, I couldn't find his books at all.

My father, who was born in the Taisho era and was a Keio graduate, had several of Bunroku-san's books on his shelf. I had been reading them since junior high school and thought they were interesting. About 15 years ago, I was in charge of the book review section for the Asahi Shimbun, and I read "Musume to Watashi" (My Daughter and I) (1953–56) for work. It was my second time reading it, but it was so interesting that I wrote about it in a small newspaper column.

The response was incredible. It wasn't from the younger generation like Ms. Yamazaki, but from old fans who said things like, "I read this when I was a schoolgirl," or "I read 'Kaigun' (The Navy) (1942) during the war and joined the Navy." There were many people who overlapped their own lives and Showa history with Bunroku-san's works and way of life.

So, I realized this author had a huge potential readership and read everything I could get my hands on. My theme as a reporter was "Showa History and Literati," and while Bunroku-san's works appear lighthearted, they actually contain very deep cultivation. I felt it was a real waste for him to be treated like a mere temporary popular writer. That's why I wrote "Two Showas." I think the generation of old fans and the younger generation like Ms. Yamazaki are overlapping right now.

Now that works that weren't in bookstores before are starting to appear, I'm sure there are many old fans buying them again.

That may be true. This kind of thing is probably rare—not just old fans, but young readers biting as well. I think that's the greatness of Bunroku-san.

I don't really know how big the name Bunroku Shishi was in the past, but for "Seishun Kaidan" (1955) and "Jiyu Gakko" (Free School) (1951), film companies competed to adapt them into movies in the same year they were published.

And since "Musume to Watashi" was the source material for the very first NHK morning drama (Asadora), he must have been an incredibly popular writer.

I'm not from that era either, but I think he was truly a popular writer. His books were lined up in rows on the shelves of Kadokawa Bunko and Shincho Bunko. Also, as you mentioned, Daiei and Shochiku released movies with the same original story and title on the same day. And that was during the golden age of cinema.

I was born when my father was sixty, so I only saw him as a writer during my childhood. My father wrote at home; his daily life consisted of writing manuscripts in the morning and having various visitors come to the house in the afternoon. Since he was also involved in theater, people from publishing and theater came every single day without fail.

Where was your home at that time?

It was in Akasaka, Tokyo.

Did you have the impression that he was very busy?

However, unlike the typical image of a "writer," he was someone who was very punctual. He wrote a set number of manuscript pages every morning with great regularity.

Doing it properly in the morning is impressive. I recently read a book called "Daily Rituals: How Artists Work," which said that good writers work in the morning.

One usually has the image of them writing in the middle of the night.

I thought so too. I'd love to know Bunroku Shishi's daily routine (laughs). Was he an early riser?

He would wake up around 7:00 and write his manuscripts. Given his age, the father I knew was probably slightly past his peak as a writer.

Bunroku-san was a disciplined person and didn't seem to care much for the so-called "decadent" (burai-ha) or stereotypical literary youth types. He was involved in modern theater and the founding of the "Bungakuza" theater troupe, but theater people often tend to be quite disorganized (laughs), or people who get too consumed by it. He wasn't that type.

For example, he absolutely kept his manuscript deadlines. He seemed to be someone who wouldn't allow any self-indulgence from himself or others just because they were a man of letters. He was apparently strict with others as well. For instance, things like manuscript fees are often treated with a sort of unspoken understanding in the industry, but Bunroku-san confirmed those details clearly. And in return, he kept his deadlines. I've heard from seniors that if an editor was a bit sloppy, they would be severely scolded by Bunroku-san.

I feel that being disciplined in various aspects is what led to such a large body of work.

Also, he was a big eater, especially when he was young. There was a period before Mr. Iwata was born when he lived in Sendagaya.

He was probably in his 40s then; he would work in the morning and eat a big lunch. Then he would spend over an hour walking around the Japan Young Men's Hall or the National Stadium area to digest his food. Although he was a heavy drinker, he lived a self-disciplined life. Taking time in the morning to write was part of it, but he was a man of rational thinking.

Did he tell his children to discipline their lives at home as well?

No, he didn't say things like that much. It seems my father also had a period when his life was a bit wild around the age of 20.

However, he was strict about money. I got scolded severely when I lost a wristwatch he had just bought for me (laughs). But he was more of the mindset of "You're a boy, so do as you please."

Having studied in France, Shishi-san's works give a very stylish impression. His descriptions of food and women's clothing are skillful and very chic, while also being precise. While he was disciplined himself, he was also very good at depicting disorganized characters (laughs).

When was the peak of Bunroku Shishi's popularity?

He had major hits both before and after the war. Before the war, "Kaigun" sold incredibly well, and he received the Asahi Prize, sponsored by the Asahi Shimbun, along with people like Tsuguharu Foujita. I think this was one peak for him as a writer. After the war, he became popular again with "Tenya Wanya" (1949) and "Jiyu Gakko," and "Oban" (1956–58) was a massive hit. After the war, he was probably busiest around 1955, right around the time Mr. Iwata was born.

Since I was born unexpectedly, he must have been working hard to earn money for my milk (laughs).

Tsuguharu Foujita and Bunroku Shishi overlap in some ways.

They both studied in France.

Yes, I feel a strong connection between "Kaigun" and war paintings like "Attu Island Banzai Charge."

Our generation knows that post-war works like "Tenya Wanya" and "Oban" were huge hits, but we tend to really like things like "Coffee and Love" or "Seishun Kaidan." It's interesting that there's a slight gap between what was a big hit back then and what appeals to the younger generation now.

That's true. In "Jiyu Gakko" and "Tenya Wanya," Bunroku-san writes skillfully and lightly, but the heavy atmosphere of the war still remains clearly. On the other hand, "Coffee and Love" and "Seishun Kaidan" are works from around 1955, the beginning of the high-growth era, when the weight of the war was fading and the times were becoming a bit lighter and brighter. I think that atmosphere synchronizes with the present day.

I re-read "Seishun Kaidan" to write the commentary this time, and both the old and new generations appear in it. The memories of the war held by the old generation come out strongly, and because of that, the message that the younger generation should live freely comes across very powerfully.

The younger generation today is suffering from various frictions that are different from the war back then, and it feels like they are being told to live freely in response to that. "Coffee and Love" is like that, and "Etsu-chan" (1937) is also very lighthearted.

It's like saying, let's throw away fixed ideas about masculinity or femininity and just relax a bit more.

Yes, there are old fans, real-time fans, and people from the generation of rediscovery like Mr. Makimura. So, he's the type of writer who gets discovered over and over again.

In a word, I think it means he doesn't grow old. Like Soseki Natsume, all popular writers use the events and customs of their time as material. Some writers grow dated because of that, but Soseki and Bunroku-san never do. The material might grow old, but the themes are eternal. That's why I thought he wasn't the kind of writer who would perish even if he disappeared from bookstores for a while.

Was the fact that he disappeared from bookstores for a while partly because he had sold too much?

I think the evaluation from readers and professional critics was different. He wasn't easily included in the genre of "writers who remain in history," and was kept at a bit of a distance.

What was his reputation in literary circles?

Bunroku-san's main stages were newspapers and "Shufu no Tomo" (Housewife's Friend). Newspaper novelists might have been looked down upon a bit. He was hardly ever picked up by the so-called literary establishment; there were no critical essays on Bunroku Shishi back then, and there are still almost none today.

However, perhaps due to personal friendships, people like Hideo Kobayashi and Hiroyuki Agawa evaluated Bunroku-san very highly.

Was there a tendency to disregard things that were lighthearted and bright?

The mainstream of the literary world was the I-novel, which seriously pursued the inner self to the limit, and the prose had to be extremely elaborate. Since things like the "God of Literature" were considered the highest class, he was a bit of a different type.

Bunroku Shishi's works are all full of humor. Where does that sense of humor, brightness, and lightness come from?

I think the fact that he started in theater is a big factor.

That's right. Since his starting point was as a theater person, above all, his dialogue is excellent. His use of quotation marks is wonderful.

Traditional novelists compete on how well they can write the narrative text, right? Since Bunroku-san returned after studying modern French theater, he has a mastery of dialogue—he's good at what you might call "punchlines." For example, Iosuke and Komako in "Jiyu Gakko." Komako says to Iosuke, "Get out!" That single "Get out!" really feels like the world of theater. There are many such punchlines. I think the fact that he was a theater person is the definitive keyword for Bunroku's literature.

That also led to so many of his works being adapted for the screen.

Exactly. There is a clear introduction, development, twist, and conclusion, with scenes distinctly separated, yet he leaves the final outcome properly intact. People say his work is like a stage set or overly methodical, but because he is cultured, each individual scene is actually quite deep.

The characters stand out, but there is an interesting quality where they aren't just archetypes. They are easy to understand, yet they have proper depth and nuance. I imagine they are very rewarding for actors to play.

Also, when watching the films, many are very faithful to the novels. I think that's because the novels are written in a way that they can become movies as they are. The images pop into your head immediately.

Yes, they are very cinematic.

He doesn't write tedious details, but the scenes just spring to mind. I'm particularly impressed by how well he depicts towns; it makes you want to actually go there. Or you recognize it and think, "Oh, that's that place."

In the upcoming "Seishun Kaidan" (Ghost Story of Youth), places like Akasaka and Kugenuma appear. Kugenuma is where my father's younger brother lived for a long time. So when I read it, I can tell, "Ah, this is that spot."

"Seishun Kaidan" is actually a novel where the characters travel quite long distances. The woman's house is over in Kugenuma, and the boy's house is a modern apartment in Akasaka. The two members of the older generation meet at the cemetery in Koganei, and the end is at the Mukojima Hyakkaen Garden. It covers a lot of ground. I don't think there are many writers who can use locations that effectively. In this respect, too, I think it's a work that looks great on film.

I also really like "Et-chan." This is also very cinematic; it's set in the streets of Tokyo, but it makes you feel like you're watching a Hollywood Shirley Temple movie. Even though it's set in Tokyo, I don't think there are many novels with such a sophisticated, "high-collar" feel.

The cinematic quality might be an element that makes it easy for the younger generation to accept.

Yes, "Shichijikan-han" (Seven and a Half Hours) is being accepted in that way too. It's from an era when it took seven and a half hours to get from Tokyo to Osaka. Within that seven-and-a-half-hour timeframe, and in the limited location of a train interior, various dramas unfold.

There are scenes like Act 1 Scene 1, Act 2 Scene 1, Scene 2, and so on. Since he was a man of the theater, he might have written with things like "I'll make this part of Act 3 into this kind of scene" always in mind.

Are there many plays written by Shishi Bunroku?

There aren't many, but they exist. The most famous is "Higashi wa Higashi" (East is East, 1933). I definitely want you to read it. It's a short but serious play, and the theme is how inherently difficult cross-cultural understanding is. Bunroku's first wife was French, and they had a child, but things didn't go well, and she returned to France and passed away. Based on that poignant experience, he swapped the era and the roles of men and women to depict how difficult it is to live together in a different world with a different race. International marriage is not uncommon now, but it's a very modern theme.

Since the novels are being reprinted so much in paperback, I'd love to see the plays as well. It would be different if modern actors performed them.

Perhaps at a place like Bungakuza.

Yes, I'd like them to try it.

Regarding his connection with Keio, Bunroku went from the Yochisha Elementary School to the Keio Futsubu School, and then from the department of political economy to the literature department at the university. Also, Bunroku's father was a student of Yukichi Fukuzawa.

My grandfather was named Shigeho Iwata, and like Yukichi Fukuzawa, he was from Nakatsu. In the end, he respected Yukichi Fukuzawa and entered Keio University, but initially, he rebelled against Yukichi Fukuzawa's progressive ideas and was even made to join a group to assassinate him. I've heard a story that he then switched sides and became one of his students.

That's dramatic. I wish that had been turned into a novel too. I'm sure it would have been very interesting.

The connection between my grandfather and Yukichi Fukuzawa seems to have been quite deep. After entering Keio University, I believe he had guidance from the teacher, and he studied abroad in America for a year before returning to start a business in Yokohama. The father of the woman he married was a man named Jinta Hirayama from Mikawa, who was a pyrotechnician in Yokohama. He also managed an inn, which people from Keio University who were from Nakatsu apparently used. My grandfather was united with the daughter there, and it was Tokujirō Obata who introduced them.

My father's name, "Toyoo," also comes from the character "Toyo" in Nakatsu = Buzen Province (Toyo-no-kuni). I've heard it was also Tokujirō Obata who gave him that name.

After the war, Bunroku moved from Oiso, where he had been living, to Akasaka. I heard that was for his child's education. Was he already thinking of putting him into Keio at that time?

It seems he hadn't decided on the Yochisha specifically, but he did seem to want to put him in a school in Tokyo somewhere.

Mantaro Kubota, who graduated from Keio and co-founded Bungakuza, is about the same age as Bunroku, isn't he? And so was the former President Shinzo Koizumi.

That's right. Around the time he entered the Keio Futsubu School, Shinzo Koizumi was a university student and apparently taught him tennis.

As for writers, Hideo Kobayashi also lived in Shonan, so they were close. Also, because their houses were near each other in Akasaka, there was Eiji Yoshikawa as well.

The house in Oiso was very impressive in "Musume to Watashi" (My Daughter and I), but was the house in Akasaka a modern apartment like the one in "Seishun Kaidan"?

No, that's the strange thing; "Seishun Kaidan" was published in 1955. We moved to Akasaka in 1958, so the timing doesn't quite match up. I wonder how he wrote about Akasaka.

I see. In that work, it was a very modern house with a unit kitchen and such, and the heroine was depicted as if she were suffocating.

I don't think he was that particular about his own house.

What was his study like?

He used two studies, a Japanese-style room and a Western-style room. Depending on his mood at the time, he would switch between writing in the tatami room or at a table.

Was it a fountain pen, as expected?

No, he used a mechanical pencil.

A mechanical pencil! That's unexpected.

How modern of him.

I wonder what brand of mechanical pencil it was. I'm very curious (laughs).

His rationalism might come out in those areas too, but he didn't seem to have a strong feeling that it absolutely had to be a certain piece of stationery.

Are the original manuscripts still at your house?

I have entrusted most of them to the Museum of Modern Japanese Literature in Kanagawa.

Let's definitely do a Shishi Bunroku exhibition.

When I was writing "Futatsu no Showa" (Two Showas), I went to the Museum of Modern Japanese Literature in Kanagawa quite often. They have an enormous amount of materials on Bunroku there. I think it was around last year that they were talking about wanting to do something about Bunroku.

I'd love to see the original manuscripts, and I want to know about his favorite items. He also wrote essays about food, so I'm very curious about what kind of breakfast he always ate (laughs).

He ate bread in the morning. He would eat regular toast.

Always bread in the morning?

Yes. And coffee.

Was he particular about his coffee?

It was an era when there weren't many varieties yet, but it wasn't instant; he would put grounds into a percolator.

Wow, that's quite stylish for that time.

My grandfather had a business near the foreign settlement in Yokohama, so I think there's the fact that he had seen various foreigners since he was a child. Also, after entering the Yochisha, he stayed in the Mita dormitory, so he might have seen new things in places like that as well.

Was he sensitive to new information after all?

It seems there was a clear divide between things he was interested in and things he wasn't. Even when listening to people talk, if the content became something he was interested in, he would suddenly sit bolt upright, or something like that (laughs).

I think one of the reasons he is read by young women is that he is very good at depicting women. He doesn't just depict strong women in a one-sided way, and their appearances aren't all beautiful, but the way he depicts them is very skillful and charming. You can also feel a sense of independence in the women.

In "Coffee to Ren'ai" (Coffee and Love), the protagonist is a woman who is good at brewing coffee, but she leaves behind her useless young husband and the people who only want her coffee-making skills and sets off for Europe. I think women find that conclusion very refreshing. In "Shichijikan-han," the girls who appear are also very resolute. Conversely, I wonder if modern literature is lacking that kind of female image.

I see.

"Danpatsu Jochu" (The Bobbed-Hair Maid, 1940) is an old work, but a maid who is like a Modern Girl appears and says modern things that make you go "Wow." You can't easily find this kind of female image in works that are on the surface of literary history. I think that's why it feels fresh to girls today.

From my perspective, the image of my father studying women doesn't really click. So, when I read my father's works later, I was puzzled, thinking, "How can he write dialogue for women like this?" (laughs).

In "Musume to Watashi," I think the way the daughter is depicted and the way he interacts with her is really wonderful.

I think Bunroku is, at his core, a person of Showa Modernism. He belongs to the generation following the Taisho culture of refinement. Showa Modernism was an era when new women, like the Modern Girls, came out into the city—as seen in the New Theater movement.

Before the war, Bunroku was interviewing them. For example, if he heard that "anmitsu" was popular among women working at department stores, he would gather those women and take notes on their raw words, like what was delicious or what they called certain things.

That's a nice story.

I believe it was around 1935, but even back then, he had the intellect and the skill to capture the sensibilities of young women.

He was part of the Shingeki (New Theater) movement, but even within that, the Tsukiji Little Theater style was becoming a bit dated. He belonged to the next generation. It was an era where proletarian theater and aestheticism were in fierce competition.

Since he was with Bungakuza, he leaned toward aestheticism. However, what he learned in France from directors like Jacques Copeau wasn't just experimental theatrical techniques; it was the idea that a play cannot exist unless it pleases the audience—that those who only please themselves are no good, and proletarian theater is even worse because it places art beneath ideology.

He belongs to the aestheticist school, but the reason his work never became thin or frail is likely because he learned in Paris that a play only truly exists when it has a broad readership and audience. This is a philosophy that also applies to newspaper serials.

I also like modernist literature, but those things largely vanished with the war. In that context, I think the reason Shishi Bunroku became a popular writer again after the war was because he had that inherent popular appeal.

There was a modernist magazine called "Shinseinen" (New Youth) launched in 1920. He contributed to it when he was young. So, he must have had a sense for the things that fashionable young people would gravitate toward. It’s a bit different from the Taisho-era intellectualism associated with Iwanami.

From the perspective of our generation, we are very grateful that those elements survived and that he continued them after the war.

It's probably because he wasn't part of the mainstream literary establishment (laughs).

There is a charm that comes precisely from not being mainstream.

Humor is exactly like that. Right now, Soseki's "I Am a Cat" is being serialized again in the Asahi Shimbun, but Soseki himself stopped writing humor after that. Consequently, the lineage of humor is very thin in modern Japanese literature.

It feels like there was quite a bit of humor literature before the war, but then it suddenly disappeared. Also, because it wasn't mainstream, our generation feels a sense of "we discovered this ourselves."

There might be something to that.

The father I knew was over 60, and back then, 60 was truly an old man. He was naturally a man of few words, and I don't recall him being someone who told particularly funny stories.

However, he did give interesting names to various things. Shortly before he passed away, he organized a golf group and named it the "Fukidamari-kai" (The Driftwood Club) (laughs). He said everyone had grown old and couldn't get good scores anymore, so they were piling up like fallen leaves, but occasionally a wind blows and they flutter up. I thought that kind of naming was clever—very much like him.

Is there a particular work by Bunroku-san that you like best?

My image of my father is that he was quite masculine; he wasn't the type to crack jokes at home. So, I prefer works like "Oban" that feature masculine characters.

The film version of "Oban" was also a huge hit.

It starred Daisuke Kato, didn't it?

I started with "Coffee and Romance," so I'd like to recommend that, though men might have a different opinion.

For me, it's definitely "Musume to Watashi" (My Daughter and I). I think it's a masterpiece of autobiographical literature. There was a journalist and historian named Soho Tokutomi who was active from the Meiji to the Showa era. He lived a long life and survived into the post-war period, and there's a story that Soho Tokutomi highly praised "Musume to Watashi."

I think it's an excellent novel for parents with children to read, especially fathers with daughters. I can't help but read it in the context of the Showa era, but even without that, you can feel the joy of reading autobiographical literature. "Fukuo Jiden" (The Autobiography of Fukuzawa Yukichi) is known as a representative work of the genre, and I think this stands alongside it.

For those who are about to read him, I think if you start with the works currently being read, like "Coffee and Romance" or "Seven and a Half Hours," and find them interesting, then reading "Musume to Watashi" will give you a good understanding of what kind of person the author was. Also, "Et-chan" is good—it's refreshing. The novel "Nobuko" is also good; it's like a modern version of "Botchan."

Reprints are coming out one after another, but there are still many that haven't been released yet. Like "Hakone-yama." Also, I really like his short stories, so I hope more short story collections will be published—the kind I used to buy at secondhand bookstores.

Are there many in secondhand bookstores?

There are fewer than there used to be, but for the older ones, Shishi Bunroku's books often have very stylish cover designs, so I still collect them. "Seven and a Half Hours" also has a lovely cover in a slipcase, with what looks like a fried egg on a frying pan. Also, "Danpatsu Jochu" (The Bobbed-Hair Maid) is from the Cobalt series, so it has illustrations by Seiji Togo, but there are other versions too. I lent mine to someone and it never came back, though (laughs).

There are several short stories set in Shikoku after the war. They are interesting if you know the circumstances of that era, but they are interesting even if you don't. His observation of human nature is unique—it's never sugary. But it's not cold either. He doesn't let things settle into simple tales of heroism or sentimentality. He seems to be saying, "This is what humans are like; don't look at them through abstract concepts."

He's an author worth digging into—worth discovering. There must be works of a different type than the ones currently being reprinted, and I hope we can continue to unearth more of them.