The illusion of powerlessness
The illusion of powerlessness
Robin LeBlanc is doing a tricky dance. She’s clearly a serious academic devoted to the study of politics, and she does her damnedest to do right by that world. But she’s such a good writer that her prose is accessible, even entrancing, to mere mortals. In fact, sometimes her prose is funny and even beautiful. This is a problem.
There is just no tactful way to put this: I’m sorry, but her writing has heart. This must be a real liability for her as an academic, because “heart” is something not usually allowed in this sort of scholarly discourse. This could explain why she falls all over herself in her eagerness to justify her own humanity. When the story of one man and his impact on the local political process jumped out of her research — no graphed trend, no stabilizing data points, just a middle-aged liquor merchant — it so shocked her that she struggled to reconcile it with her training and discipline as a researcher.
Australian forces, occupational hazards
The presence of Australian servicemen in the U.S.-dominated occupation of Japan (1945-52) is little known, an oversight that is overcome in this vivid and entertaining book. Some 20,000 Aussies served for over six years in Hiroshima and environs, doing their part in the demilitarization, democratization and rebuilding of Japan. The British Commonwealth Occupation Force (BCOF), as the Australian contingent was formally known, made its presence felt, and not always for the good.
Robin Gerster is a superb writer and in his hands the numerous anecdotes, incidents and details of the occupation gleaned from extensive combing of archives, newspapers, diaries and novels come to life. In lesser hands, the wealth of individual observations might weigh down the narrative, but one of the strengths of “Atomic Sunshine” is its concentration on personal encounters and perceptions. This helps us understand the racial tensions of the time and how the occupation affected the occupier. With the occupying forces arriving in Japan bent on revenge against the defeated, the chances of things going wrong were high.
Feeling revulsion may signal you’re finally home away from home
There is a curious and very telling phrase in Japanese to describe the feeling of hatred that people can have for family. It is kinshin-zoo, or “close-relative abhorrence.”
Often in the course of human affairs — whether in social, political, ethnic or literary contexts — descriptions of distant others are proffered in less than flattering terms. This hatred of “the other” can even lead to conflict, war and genocide.