Empire of the Sun Book

A few days ago, I learned a new Japanese word. Nijuuhibakusha means literally "twice radiation-sick individual", and refers to the few people who, through staggering bad luck, managed to be present both at Hiroshima on August 6, 1945, and then at Nagasaki three days later. The article I read was an obituary for Tsutomu Yamaguchi, the last surviving nijuuhibakusha. I was not surprised to discover that Mr. Yamaguchi was strongly opposed to nuclear weapons, and had spent a substantial part of his life campaigning against them.

But it's funny how everything has a flipside; after reading the article, I also thought of this book. Young Jim Ballard was one of many Westerners who were interned after the Japanese took Shanghai. He grew up in a POW camp; his descriptions of life there are horrifying, more than anything else, because of the matter-of-fact way in which he presents them. This is simply how it was: inadequate food, arbitrary punishments and killings. Nothing to get excited about, after the first few months.

The war is going badly for the Japanese, and it's becoming clear that they will lose. There is even less to eat than before. One day, the inmates are told that they are going on a long march to a different location. They don't have the strength for this. Jim realizes, without much emotion, that he's going to die. But a miracle happens. Over the dark waters of the bay, he sees a flash. It's a long way off, but he suddenly knows that he's been saved. The atom-bomb will make Japan surrender now, not months in the future, and he'll get out.

After this, Ballard always has warm, fuzzy feelings for nuclear weapons. In the sequel, he describes the Vulcan bombers he sees at the Cambridgeshire base near where he then lives. He imagines the megatons they're carrying, and gives them a little pat on the head.

There are few authors who can make me quite as disoriented as Ballard.