ArticleKey #15: Shogun, the Book
Edward Porper
While fiction is to be taken with a grain of salt wherever it mentions facts - such as names, dates and places - it's completely in a class of its own when it comes to capturing the spirit of the times described. No textbook, academic paper or even documentary can even start touching the depth of the insight into the Civil War America provided by Margaret Mitchell's “Gone With The Wind” - and the same is true regarding Erich Maria Remarque's “All Quiet On The Western Front” describing the postwar Germany. Ernest Hemingway's “The Sun Also Rises” is the epitome of that celebratory “we are alive, and Devil-May-Care” spirit that swept over Western Europe between the World Wars; Honore de Balzac's “Humane Comedy” is the real encyclopedia of the 19th century France, and his Eugene de Rastignac is as alive and French as the most typical and/or most famous of them are - an imaginary character as he might be. Sherlock Holmes might not be a typical Brit but he is the pinnacle of Britishness at its very best - and a giant on whose spiritual shoulders such champions of freedom as Winston Churchill stood.
The title of this entry is similar to the above literary works - yet, in a way, it's even more unique. All the previously mentioned authors were writing about their own people and the societies they - or, at the very least, their parents - were part of. Not so Australian-born, British-raised James Clavell who had never been to Japan, and whose personal acquaintance with Japanese people was limited to jailers guarding him during his WWII captivity in Indonesia and Singapore. Somehow, none of that prevented Clavell from creating not just one masterpiece but a whole “sixpack” - six novels set in Japan, Hongkong, Singapore and Iran, “Shogun” being the most famous of them. Those books are usually referred to as “Asian Saga”, and they are, arguably, the most comprehensive effort ever made to grok Asia perceived by many non-Asians as not just another continent but another planet! On the surface, “Shogun” follows a familiar success recipe as it combines adventure, romance and power struggle - all that spiced up by great descriptions of nature and exotic customs. However, Clavell adds to the mix one more ingredient - the samurai code of conduct known as “bushido” - that renders the book a whole new meaning by turning it into a meeting point of philosophy, psychology and culture.
Bushido is steeped in Buddhism and is based on its central concept of rebirth as a stepping stone to the ultimate bliss of Nirvana. As rebirth cancels the finality of death, it shifts the emphasis from staying alive - self-preservation being the most basic and powerful instinct dominating every living creature - to fulfilling one's duty and dying honourably to improve one's karma and ensure a better starting position for the next attempt. That shift results in barely imaginable situations that produce a whole gamut of both emotions and possible interpretations, the most extreme ones being “outrageous contempt for human life” and "an outstanding ability to enjoy ("savour" might be a better word) every moment of being alive". The most bizarre consequence of death being stripped of its aura of fear is that it inexplicably becomes both a punishment (as is the case in essentially every other culture) and a reward!