Teen Voices from the Holy Land: Who Am I to You? Book

The alienness of Japanese culture is often remarked upon, in a low-brow sort of way, but what made this book especially appealing to me is that it brings in another group whose alienness, while not as often discussed, is just as significant: the rich.

Hamabata, a second-or-third-generation Japanese-American, visited Japan in the late 70s and embedded himself into three or four of the richest, most influential and high-born families of Japan. The families, the Itoos, the Moruichis, the Okimotos ("names have been changed to protect the innocent"), all own and operate giant corporations. The ie, or household, is the overarching theme: the personal sentiments that we associate with family inextricably intertwined with the politics of control and successorship we associate with large businesses, which through the 70s and 80s were so rocking the economic world. His explorations in this crust of society, informed by and navigated with these families' matriarchs and the scions and daughters, form (1) a personal memoir, (2) an ethnographic analysis, and (3) an academic treatise. The first two more than make up for the quoting-of-nonsensical-citations that Hamabata is obligated to include in order to qualify for the third.

What results is truly fascinating. I learned, in great detail, about how households groomed sons to be successors: what to do with the second and third sons; what happens when the choonan (eldest) lacks the qualities to become the new head of the household; how daughters can be asked to take on a masculine role, sacrificing their feminine aspirations of becoming an oyome-san (bride in her husband's household) by bringing in a muko-yooshi husband from another household into her's, for the household; how the life of an oyome-san isn't all its cracked up to be either but how such a one rises from the lowest member of the household upon first marrying her husband to eventually becoming the matriarch; how omiai (traditional matchmaking) works and how it can go awry; how main and branch families jockey for the power, influence, and wealth that operating different aspects of the business can bring; how the birth of grandchildren and the death of grandparents can lead to a complete reshuffling of the balance of power between sub-units of the household if the succession hasn't been rendered crystal-clear; how the daily papers print diagrams of shinseki networks of matrimonial influence between business (and imperial) families when high-ranking engagements are announced.

This list is meant to be eye-popping and mind-bogglingly interesting. These are things that I, having picked up this book four or more years ago (and finishing tonight), didn't know remotely enough to begin to ask about yet are detailed. Surprising twists are picked apart. Avenues of information are pursued.

The author seems as much an alien in this world as I would be (except with eventually-perfect Japanese, plus an already-perfect Japanese face). His narrative has a strong temporal element, tied as it is to his unearthing of different aspects of this intricate society. The first chapter is in fact about his very difficult teething troubles in getting embedded---I expect that for every Hamabata, there are a dozen other Japanese-Americans who failed this experiment. He has to take himself out of the marriage market by employing the first-person personal pronoun boku, requiring others to treat him as an immature (sexually unavailable) student. He has to learn the intricacies of gift-exchange brought on by his performing services for these families (tutoring, making educational arrangements at Yale summer school, etc.). He learns how to allow interlocutors to let him be American and Japanese, common and high-class, when it suits them (the honne/tatemae dichotomy).

The reader to whom I am most qualified (embarrassingly enough) to recommend this book to is the Japanophile: there is a lot here about Japanese culture, but I had to keep reminding myself that the rich are weird no matter where you go. As for general recommendations, as a lay reader interested in Japanese culture and language, as well as broader themes in Asian affairs, ethnography, and economics, this little book was a fascinating, invigorating, and frightening look at an upper crust of Japanese society. And I'd like to conclude with a brief caveat (instead of peppering it throughout the above): I really have no way of knowing how accurate and realistic this portrayal is. I look forward to the rest of my life, validating or discarding the many ideas Hamabata presents.