Japanese Literature Translation: Excerpt from “My Life”, an essay by women author Hayashi Fumiko (林芙美子)

The majority of my translation projects have involved nonfiction (which mirrors my reading tastes), but the other day I discovered an interesting essay written by author Hayashi Fumiko, considered to be an important figure of 20th century Japanese women’s literature. The essay is titled “My Life” (生活) and, judging from the explicit reference to her age in the piece itself, was probably written around 1935, in the early part of her career.

What I liked about this essay was the variety of topics addressed, especially given its relatively short length. As you would expect from the title, Hayashi talks about her daily life, including things such as what newspapers she reads, what ink she uses, and her daily writing schedule.  It was also interesting to see the figures for her average monthly/yearly salary, which were not quite what I expected. But she also addresses deeper topics, such as how she receives criticism and judges her own work, and how difficult she finds the writing process. Finally, there are references to a bunch of other artists (mostly writers and painters), including some outside of Japan. I feel that this piece gives an excellent historical view into the mind of a writer during that time.

I don’t want to give away too much, but I’ll just say that I’m surprised that Hayashi managed to live another 15-16 years given the lifestyle she was living when she wrote this essay.

After translating a series of Hayashi Fumiko’s stories (available in paperback here and in E-book form here and here), I read this essay with a certain familiarity for this author, but I think it is a interesting read even for those who are new to her.

Thanks to Kaimai Mizuhiro (his books, his blog about Japanese grammar) for helping confirm some of the meanings of the tricker passages. Also thanks to Jim Miles (of Annotranslate) for help proofreading. You can find the full original Japanese text here.

Update: I’ve published the full essay in this book, along with one of Hayashi Fumiko’s historically important stories (“The Accordion and the Fish Town”).

“My Life” by Hayashi Fumi

(Translated by J.D. Wisgo)

Pondering what drives me to write

The short-lived blooming of the plums and apricots

Basking in the deep green of the plum pits

The peacefulness of life in the country

I love this poem, and each day I recite Mr. Muro’s poems as if they were songs. “Pondering what drives me to write” is exactly how I feel when I sit at this desk nearly every day until late at night, unsure of exactly what drives me to write. I sit and write second-rate stories about my difficult days. After breakfast, I clean up with the young maid––putting the fried food here, the teacups there––as we chat about all sorts of things, like the neighborhood films, and by the time we’re finishing up and changing the water of the sencha tea, it’s already past eight o’clock. Three evening papers in hand, I head to the second-floor study to find the charcoal heater has grown cold. I add some charcoal and put down the iron kettle, then skim through the evening papers as I wait for it to boil. We subscribe to the Asahi, the Nichinichi, and the Yomiuri papers, and I start with the theater and film advertisements. I want to see films that speak to a woman’s heart. I want to go and see films about an eternal promise, and all the other ones, yet usually by the time I’m able to go they have moved out of the big venues. 

After the advertisements I move onto the local news section. As with the advertisements, I read the local news starting from a tiny column at the bottom of the page. Even when there are articles on the same topic in each of the papers, I can’t help but be intrigued by how differently they are written. I rarely read the political section. That’s why I know less about politics than an elementary schooler. I forget when it was, but once someone from the Nichinichi Paper took me to the place called the “National Diet”. There was a person at the entrance who checked my pockets, and when I went inside the air had a foul smell that I couldn’t stand. On the floor directly below us some people were napping and some were arguing, grappling at each other’s shoulders tightly. Apparently these were the Diet members. That was a shocking experience that I’ll never forget.

As soon as I get through all the newspapers, the iron kettle is starting to boil. This time of day is like heaven to me, and after breathing on my glasses I wipe them with a leather cloth. Then I make tea and fiddle with various items on my desk, as if saying, “Is everyone feeling well today?” I use a fountain pen to write. For ink, I use Maruzen Athena. I bought a large bottle that holds around half a liter, and enjoy pouring it into a dish little by little and using it from there. I think it’s around two years’ worth of ink. There’s a little mirror in front of my manuscript paper and sometimes I look at it and joke around, rolling my eyes or sticking out my tongue. But once I start working on a long project the mirror becomes a nuisance, so I toss it onto my bed. My desk is packed with all sorts of unfamiliar books and magazines, leaving barely enough space even for a flower. My worn-out Iwanami book of Tang Dynasty poems is sitting somewhere on the desk.

(English Translation Copyright © 2021 by J.D. Wisgo)

If you enjoyed this essay excerpt, please consider checking out the below book containing short stories by Hayashi Fumiko: (or you can use this link to jump to your nearest Amazon site). See here and here for the E-books.

(Note: image of desk used from Pexels.com)