Chasing the “Dream”.

I know a guy who quit engineering school and entered medical school. But instead of pursuing his dream to become a doctor, he became a medical researcher. He is the happiest lab rat I know. He loves what he does. He did not actually give up on his dreams, he just had to mess around a little before he found his calling. I know guys who went to language school, veterinarian school, or the military academy before they switched to a medical career. Then again, I know a guy who quit a medical career to become a professional guitarist. In fact, for every person who quit something mid-career to become a doctor, I know someone who quit a medical career to become something else.

Just as it takes some people several marriages to get hitched to the right partner, you may have to go through several jobs before you find your true calling. That is why we hear a lot about the people who quit their careers in banking to pursue their dreams painting or composing music. Strangely, we hear less about people who quit painting to become a banker.

There is this crazy story about a kid who went to Harvard to study law. He had excellent grades in high school and his father was a successful lawyer, so it seemed like a natural career choice. But he had this hobby playing with little machines that most people did not understand. It definitely was not a “real job” at the time, but he quit law school to start a small business leasing license to a string of equations on a piece of paper back when almost no such business existed and just about everybody thought he was either eccentric, irrelevant, silly, or crazy. And the rest of the story is that his name was Bill Gates.

We keep associating some careers with the mantle of “real jobs”, while other occupations are considered “dreams”. And for some reason, it is always a one way transition from one to the other. You either “give up your dreams” and switch to a “real job”, or you quit your “real job” to pursue your “dreams”.

But what if banking or teaching or accounting is your calling? There is a man running for president who once called the real estate business his calling. There is no real difference between your “dream” and a “real job”.

There is this beautiful young lady who wanted to be an actress since childhood. She begged her mother for acting lessons from an early age and took off on a promising career, but she grew disillusioned with movie acting and started a company selling soap. No, not that kind of soap. Actual bars of soap, and other home products. She still acts, but her career has moved significantly away from acting, though Jessica Alba does not seem to mind. In fact, her Honest Company (of which she owns 30%) is valued at over 1 billion dollars.

It should go without saying (though it rarely does) that your “real job” can be your “dream” or vice versa. So there really is no shame in quitting your writing to go into accounting, any more than there is any shame in quitting accounting to concentrate on your writing.

I’m still keeping my day job though. Not that I am particularly enthusiastic about it, but a brief examination of the stats lately told me that I am turning out exceedingly good outcomes. Besides, the paycheck doesn’t hurt either. Maybe I have more talent at my bread earner job than I give myself credit for. I still stop short of calling it my calling. If I strike gold like E. L. James or J. K. Rowling, I might actually quit. But I refuse to make a distinction between “real job” and “dream”. All careers can be both.



The Mongolian Invasion

Khublai Khan, grandson of Ghingis Khan, sent an invasion force to Japan twice. Once in 1274 and once in 1281. According to legend, a storm hit the Mongolians just as they reached Japan and repelled their invasion. Thus was born the legend that “kamikaze” – “divine wind” – was protecting Japan.

The Japanese were certainly disadvantaged. In the first invasion, Khan sent 26 thousand Mongolian and Korean troops on 900 ships. The defenders are estimated to have numbered 5 to 10 thousand. The mongolians used gunpowder in the form of bombs (guns had yet to be invented) and fought in groups. The Japanese had a custom of fighting in duels as the rest of the army watched in the background. It was something of a formal ritual. Champion warriors of each team would come forward and give long-winded introductions of themselves before engaging in single combat in front of the troops. Mongolians were more practical about war and they did not care for ritualistic duels. It is recorded that many Japanese soldiers were killed while they were trying to announce their names. The bombs startled the Japanese and their horses. The Mongolians used extremely long ranged short bows with poisoned arrowheads. Also, the long sweeping swords favored by the Japanese of the time tended to break on the hard Mongolian armor. After the first Mongolian invasion, the Japanese swords were shortened and thickened and took the shape that they have today.

The Mongolians had sent several envoys to Japan prior to the invasion demanding surrender. The whole of Japan was ordered by the emperor to perform magical rites to curse and defeat the enemy. So when the Mongolians mysteriously terminated the first invasion, it was natural for the defenders to think that all the cursing paid off and that some divine force had helped them out.

I grew up thinking that there really was a storm that defeated the Mongolians and that Japan was just plain lucky. But there actually was no record of a storm in the first invasion, neither in Japanese nor Chinese accounts of the event. The Japanese, it seems, looked out to sea one morning and discovered that the Mongolian ships were gone.

The second invasion consisted of 40 thousand Mongolian-Korean troops and 100 thousand Chinese troops on 4400 ships. This must have been the biggest landing operation in history up to that time. So if it was just dumb luck that repelled the Mongolians first time around, why did they bother to send five times as many troops the second time?

After the first invasion, Khan sent ambassadors to Japan twice. Both times they were all beheaded. So, Khan had good reason to be pissed off. But that doesn’t explain why he spent so much money to flatten an inferior force that got off on a lucky break.

The second time around, Japan was clearly lucky. The 40 thousand troops reached the coast of Hiraga in early June, but the 100 thousand troops from Mongolian occupied China was delayed because the Chinese commander fell ill (or so he said) and didn’t arrive until July. During this time, the 40 thousand that left the Korean penninsula anchored off Hiraga and waited there without landing. That’s right, 40 thousand people were living on the water for a whole month. The effect on morale must have been awful, not to mention the inevitable logistic problems of providing food and water. They made some sorties to Shikanoshima in mid June, but did not get foothold on shore and went back to their ships by night. By the time the reinforcements from China arrived, it was storm season. Due to mix of foul weather and Japanese resistance, the Mongolians lost three fourths of their forces and retreated to Korea. A third invasion was planned but never realized due to unrest within Khublai Khan’s empire.

So what accounted for this strange behavior of the Mongolian invaders at the second invasion? Why did the Mongolians wait so long for reinforcements to arrive and why did they stay on their ships and not camp on land?

Let’s look at what happened in the first invasion.

The Mongolian ships appeared off Hakata on October 19th, 1274. Upon dawn on October 20th, the 26 thousand invasion troops landed. The Japanese who were waiting for them were outnumbered perhaps by 3 to 1. The defenders resisted fiercely, but with the combination of superior weapons and tactics and greater numbers, the invasion troops advanced. The defenders retreated to Mizuki fortress. They were furious that the Mongolians did not follow the protocols of war. They made an oath to fight until every Mongolian was dead. The Japanese turned to the offensive again after nightfall and struck in the cover of darkness. On the morning of the 21st, they looked out to sea and found that all 900 ships of the invasion troops had disappeared. The samurai were left scratching their heads as to what happened. They concluded that it must have been divine intervention. The invaders left behind 13 thousand of their own dead.

The War and Peace of Japan

I found that even some of the relatively knowledgeable foreigner friends did not know a basic fact of Japanese history that all Japanese take for common knowledge: The Emperor was never samurai.

The word “samurai” derives from the word “to serve”. The emperor is nobody’s servant. So it is quite obvious from the linguistics of it. It is also important historically.

Written history in Japan began in the year 720 when the emperor ordered the publication of “Nihon Shoki” the official government record of events. A little before that in the year 712, the government ordered the creation of “Kojiki“, or “Record of Old Things”, which was the transcription of oral history that had been passed down through the generations by story tellers. “Kojiki” recounts the story of how Emperor Tennmu, one of the sons of the Sun Goddess, landed in Nakatsu Kuni (believed to be in Kyushu. I was in a town called Nakatsu while I wrote this) and embarked on an eastward conquest that expanded his territory to include the area that is now known as Kansai. But all of this happened before written history. There are no records of the emperor actually leading troops into battle after written history has started.

By the late 9th century, the emperor was already a figurehead. Actual rule was performed by aristocrats who served as “sesshou“, proxies, if the emperor was young or was a woman and as “kanpaku“, advisors, if the emperor was a grown man. By the 10th century, the Fujiwara clan had attained a monopoly on the “sesshou” and “kanpaku” positions. This was sometimes realized by marrying the daughter of the Fujiwara clan into the imperial household. The heir to the throne would then be the grandson of the Fujiwara patriarch, who would then be in a position to advise the young emperor on matters of state. The “kanpaku” was the de facto emperor for several centuries. A retired emperor was called “joukou“, which was initially a ceremonial position but eventually became an advisory position more powerful than the puppet emperor. The influence of the “joukou” increased in the late 11th century. To counter the combined weight of the emperor and the “joukou“, a retired “kanpaku” came to be called “taikou” which became another powerful advisory position. From the 9th to most of the 12th century, politics was carried out largely through court diplomacy, detached from the nitty gritty of the battle field. These court aristocrats were called “kugeh” and lived in a lofty world of poetry and incense, away from the reality of the common people around them.

The filthy business of violence was relegated to the lower orders. The “kebiishi“, which policed the streets of Kyoto, were considered a supplementary position not counted as one of the imperial bureaucracy. That was all right as long as the nation was peaceful. But as the faction ridden government became ineffectual, and as new methods of steel production made steel instruments cheaper and more available, a new warring underclass was born and took matters into their own hands. Initially, they were called “yebisu” (barbarians) or “tsuwamono” (strong men) and they were despised by the aristocracy. But they would eventually become known as the “samurai”.

The samurai class eventually consolidated into two main factions, the Taira clan (which fought under a plain red banner) and the Minamoto clan (who held a plain white banner). The rivalry is said to be the origin of kouhaku (紅白), the contest of red-team and white-team seen in so many competitions. Their conflict culminated in the Genpei War. After much bloodshed, Minamoto Yoritomo became the first warrior to unite the nation under his banner. The imperial government finally woke up to the reality and offered Yoritomo the position of “shogun”, the generalismo of all imperial soldiers. Thus was born the first shogunate which lasted from 1192 to 1333 (Kamakura period). It was now the shogunate that held the real power. The imperial government continued to exist, but its actual influence waned.

No sooner was the shogunate born than the shogun became figurehead. Hojo Tokimasa became “shikken”, regent to the shogun, and the Hojo clan held that position until the shogunate fell apart. More damaging was that the “kugeh” embarked on a power sharing scheme by marrying their daughters into the shogun’s and the regent’s bloodlines. Adopting the esoteric customs of the aristocracy, the highest samurai leaders forgot their warrior roots and became very much like the poetry writing, incense burning, culturally sophisticated kugeh. Eventually, the rule became ineffectual again and after the invasion of Khublai Khan’s Mongolian forces (1274) burdened the shogunate with massive military expenditures, the shogunate went downhill.

A group of revivalists lead by Emperor Godaigo fought and distroyed the first shogunate, hoping to bring back the rule of the emperor again. A group of warriors lead by Ashikaga Takauji sided with the emperor. But once the shogunate was defeated, the “kugeh” treated the warriors with such disdain that Takauji broke ranks with the emperor and formed his own government. Another puppet emperor was put on the throne and Japan experienced a schism of two emperors between 1333 and 1392. The new puppet emperor appointed Takauji shogun and the second shogunate was born (Muromachi period).

Once peace was attained, the “kugeh”, once again, married their daughters into the shogunate. The third shogun Ashikaga Yoshimitsu actually doubled as the “kanpaku”, the emperor’s advisor. Soon the shogun became figurehead again. His power was eaten away by the regional lords that surrounded him. The 8th shogun Ashikaga Yoshimasa was more interested in art and gardening and his wife took over politics. He was the Nero who fiddled as Kyoto burned. He was not particularly a tyrant, just detached from the real world in a wimpy aristocratic way.

It was during his reign that Japan entered “Sengoku Jidai” or “The Era of the Warring Lords” (1467 to 1568). This is the era in which many Kurosawa films (“Kagemusha” “Ran” “The Hidden Fortress” “Throne of Blood”) and some samurai video games (“Onimusha”) are set. For a century, Japan was in a state of perpetual war. The Muromachi shogunate, powerless and ornamental, persisted until 1573. Meanwhile, in this era when real power counted, the power of the the “kugeh” who depended on peacetime court diplomacy, was diminished to nil.

Still, when Oda Nobunaga emerged as the primary power in the nation, he made offerings to the gentrified shogun in order to legitimize his conquests of what resistance remained. Nobunaga allied with the shogun, who sought to use Nobunaga to bring him back to power. If Nobunaga played along, his lineage might have ruled Japan as the new regent clan with the shogun as figurehead. Nobunaga, a visionary with grand designs, was not satisfied with such antiquated status quo and eventually collided with the shogun, who used his authority to unite all of Nobunaga’s enemies against him. A coordinated effort to surround and defeat Nobunaga failed twice. Evidence suggests that after he triumphed over the shogun, Nobunaga had plans to usurp the Emperor as well (hence the video game Nobunaga’s Ambition). His over sized ambition may have contributed to his assassination.

After Nobunaga’s death, however, Hashiba Hideyoshi took over. He showed no interest in becoming regent or shogun, but he did not try to overthrow the emperor either. Instead, he became kanpaku, chief adviser to the  Emperor. As such, he enlisted the aristocracy to legitimize his authority. With the nation nearly united, the emperor and his minions once again entered the spotlight. Hideyoshi’s clan, however, eventually lost power after his death.

In 1603, Tokugawa Ieyasu was appointed shogun and opened the third and last shogunate (Edo period). His government started out as a military dictatorship, but soon fell into to the trap of gentrification again. By the latter half of the period, high ranking bureaucrats were embarrassed to admit that they were doing such barbarous things as kendo practice. In a diary of a bureaucrat of the time, there is a part where he recounts how his superior told him to say that his bruise was a result of a bad fall. By the end, the officers of the shogunate were court aristocrats with ornamental swords.

Still, there were plenty of tough guys around. The “barbarians” and “rougue men” far from the center of power maintained their martial ways. They trained their children in the ways of the warrior in hopes that someday they would be called to duty and their skills as swordsmen would be useful. They waited more than ten generations, preserving their skills throughout, before an anti-Tokugawa alliance rose up in the wake of Commodore Perry’s forced opening of the country and restored the emperor to power for the third time.

In 1889, the Japanese Imperial Constitution was established, firmly putting the emperor in the role of the constitutional monarch.

What I wanted to say was that Japanese history was a process of repeated gentrification and (…er…what’s the opposite?) relapse into military rule. Or maybe you could call it repeated erection of strong military governments that relapsed into gentrified aristocratic rule. The socially “lower” samurai were constantly trying to legitimize their bloodline once they came to power. That is why they kept inter-breeding with the kugeh. Due to a mix of religion and tradition, the kugeh refused to have anything to do with the lowly business of killing. That does not mean that they never assassinated their own. They just never lead armies. (The life of the kugeh in the 11th century, before the ascent of the samurai, is described in the book “The Tale of Genji” and other works of literature.) Since the aristocracy never held military power, their power increased in times of peace, while when the nation was at war their power decreased. This is in stark contrast to the more martial aristocracy of Europe.

Because there were two ruling classes, the kugeh and the samurai, one which benefited from peace and the other which ascended in times of war, Japan swung like a pendulum between ascetic culture and martial culture. If you look at the time table, you can see that Japan alternated between 150-200 years of continuous peace and 80-100 years of perpetual war. You can argue that Japan was in its last age of war in the century between Commodore Perry (1853) and the San Francisco Peace Treaty (1951). That was after 200 years of absolute peace under Tokugawa rule which followed 100 years of Sengoku period, which followed a relatively brief period of peace under the Muromachi rule for 130 years, which followed a relatively short period of war (about 60 years) between the Mongolian invasion (1274) and the founding of the new shogunate (1336), and so on. War and peace, war and peace.

At this pace Japan will reach its next military era in about 130 years. Until then, politics will become increasingly muddled and the bureaucracy (by some estimates about 98% kugeh) will continue to rule Japan.

Commodore Perry’s Letter

In 1853, Commodore Perry first visited Japan with three warships and the Japanese said “Come back later”. So he came back later with seven warships and the Japanese dropped their self-isolation policy and opened two ports for American ships to refuel and restock. Trade was opened after negotiations with Consulate Harris a while later in 1860.

Sounds like a straight forward story of gunboat diplomacy on the face of it. But in many ways it was a story rich in twists and turns.

Perry’s people had no idea what Japanese government was like. They did not know the word “shogun” for example, and called him “tycoon”. So large foreign ships anchored off the sleepy fishing village of Uraga and the leader asked for the “tycoon”.

After much ado, a letter was delivered to the “tycoon” of what Perry believed was “the Kingdom of Japan”. Behind the ceremony was the most trying ordeal in bureaucratic red tape and government decision making that Americans would never have imagined. The “powdered curls” world of 19th century Congress looked primitively simple by comparison.

As it turned out, the “tycoon” was not the absolute leader of Japan. Every time the Americans asked for an answer, they were told that they were awaiting a response from the “Chotei” in Kyoto. I have no idea how long it took them to figure out that “Chotei” was the honorary term for the Imperial Government.

On every important matter of state, the shogun’s decision needed to be legitimized by the Emperor. Nominally, the shogun was only one of the Emperor’s many subjects, and the Emperor had the power to over rule the shogun. In practice, the most he could do was to chip away at the shogun’s proposals or demand concessions in other areas in a quid pro quo for his endorsement. With the arrival of Perry, the Imperial Government saw an unique opportunity to expand its interests.

In order to accommodate the Emperor’s demands, the council of elders, or cabinet, in the shogunite had to decide who would give up some of his interests. There were hundreds of landed “daimyo” in the government and some thousands of “hatamoto” all of whom had vested interests in the status quo.

Now it is well to remember that at this time the shogun was only a little boy who had no real power of his own, the Emperor was merely a figurehead who spent more time with poetry than politics and both the shogun’s government in Edo (Tokyo) and the Emperor’s government in Kyoto were ridden with factionalism. Every faction was tied to businesses and fortunes that had interests of its own. No two high officials agreed on anything about how to respond to the Americans. And the Americans had no idea who it was that they were talking to. This was definitely not the political sophistication of “Kingdoms” they were accustomed to dealing with.

Lord Mizuno, the highest adviser to the shogun prior to Perry’s visit, had some advance information about the turnout of the Opium War and saw the need to repel the “barbarians”. But he lost his job when he failed to squire land necessary to build fortresses to protect Osaka and Edo harbors. There were simply too many special interests to fight.

Lord Abe succeeded Mizuno and immediately recognized the need to modernize Japan’s defense forces. But he had so few allies in the shogun’s cabinet that he sought advice and foreign intelligence from Lord Shimazu (who monopolized interests in Okinawa), Lord Kuroda and Lord Nabeshima (who governed over Nagasaki, the only port open to foreign trade) all of whom were regional lords of Kyushu who previously had absolutely no right to interfere with matters of state. This was completely unprecedented. He also tried to ally with Lord Mito, a powerful “inner” lord who – although he was technically a regional ruler of what is now Chiba – had much influence in the shogunite and was a major proponent of greater naval buildup. But the alliance did not work out possibly because Lord Abe was seen as something of a “lame duck”.

After long sessions of discussions, the cabinet of the shogunite decided that they would break precedent and accept the letter from the American president, but hand over the reply in Nagasaki. Perry’s answer was that his letter must be accepted by a high officer of the Japanese government and that the answer will be accepted in Edo in the following year. Lord Abe took the proposal to Lord Mito, another unprecedented act, who supported it. The order to accept the letter trickled down the pecking order to the sleepy fishing village where two-bit bureaucrats were given the job of accepting the letter from the President of the United States.

There were many protocols to handling official letters in Japan at the time. Letters to men of high office not only needed to be written in a certain way, in well defined jargon on appropriate paper, but had to be delivered on specific types of trays. There were rules on who was allowed to touch the tray, which officers were to carry it, and who would keep their heads bowed while the tray was being transported in front of them. The Americans knew none of this and expected someone to take the letter by hand.

The two governors of Uraga, who governed in alternating months, both showed up to accept the letter in a hastily propped up tent. Their official titles were translated to English as “Toda, Prince of Idzu” and “Ido, Prince of Iwami” and the Americans were duly pleased that their letter was accepted by two “princes”.

The Satsuma-Anglo War

The Tokugawa Shogunate was a military government of many checks and balances. For example, there were two governments for the district of Edo that ruled the city in alternating months. This was apparently to prevent corruption. The two governments kept watch over each other to make sure the other party was not collecting bribes. There was a lot of redundancies in the government agencies and the samurai got two days off for every three working days.

Most of the so called samurai were on a salary, either from the shogun himself or from the regional lords. But there were people classified as farmers who were allowed to carry swords and have surnames like the samurai. These people owned their own land and kept their own serfs. The shogunite restricted their rights vigilantly but never quite suppressed them. Tokugawa Ieyasu, who founded the shogunate, famously said “never let them die, never let them live”. In the event that the regional lords rebelled against the shogun, there was an option that these independents might ally with the shogun and fight against the lord that ruled over them. (It was never to be. By the time the shogunite waned, the rich farmers often had a stake in their governing lords.)

Another built-in mechanism to divide power and prevent rebellion was called Sankin Koutai. The lords, who kept residences in both Edo and the regions they governed, were required to live in Edo every other year. (They negotiated for less frequent relocations later because of fiscal problems.) Their wives and children were required to remain in Edo all their lives. In effect, the wives and children were the hostages of the shogun. Sons were allowed to travel to the land they will one day rule once they became adult, but daughters were born in Edo and died in Edo. They would marry and travel to another mansion only a few blocks away. They usually never saw the land their husbands ruled.

The lords were required to travel to their respective territory in parades. The idea was to make sure the lords would not amass large stockpiles of money that they may use to finance a war against the shogun. The size of a parade was determined by the lord’s nominal income. The largest fiefdoms were required to have upwards of 20 horsemen, 130 infantrymen and 300 retainers. Lord Maeda of Kaga was the greatest of all lords and the procession counted 2500 people who marched all the way from Edo (which is now Tokyo) to what is now Ishikawa prefecture.

Any attempt to disturb this parade was considered a grave insult and was punishable by death. In fact, commoners were supposed to get on all fours and kowtow until the parade passed. It must have been a major pain if you happened to be travelling and you came across Lord Maeda’s parade. There were people leading each parade who warned nearby residents that a parade was coming. People on horses needed to dismount and people with weapons were required to put their weapons on the ground. If you refused, you were deemed an attacker and were promptly killed. There were plenty of guards available to do so.

In August 1862, just 10 years after Perry’s first visit, three Englishmen and one woman were traveling on horseback in collision course with the parade of Lord Shimazu of Satsuma. These were middle class merchants out on a joy ride. The runners in front of the parade tried to redirect them in a different path, to no avail. A samurai tried to tell them that they could not keep riding, but they paid him no attention. Several warnings later, they were still on horseback with pistols in their belts when they collided with the first guards of the parade. When the procession stopped, Lord Satsuma demanded to know why his honorable parade was not moving. His retainers answered that some armed barbarians had blocked their path. The warlord issued a single word command: “Slice.” The Englishmen were attacked by the Lord’s bodyguards and one of them died. This became known as the Namamugi Incident.

Up to this point, a lot of drunken sailors had got what was coming to them by wielding their pistols in a place where nobody was supposed to draw their weapons. The foreigners were pretty tolerant about the loss of a few trouble makers, but shit really hit the fan at the loss of a “gentleman”.

The Englishmen wanted immediate retaliation, but the moderate Consulate Neal decided to settle for a reparation and the handover of the “criminal”. The shogunate, eager to settle, paid the reparation but Lord Shimazu bulked at the handover.

In June 1863, the British sent seven warships to Kagoshima, capitol of Satsuma and home of Lord Shimazu. By the standards of the era, this was much larger a force than any dispute with an “uncivilized” nation should have called for. Much less a single clan. It was utter overkill, but the samurais of Kagoshima were not intimidated. Negotiations went nowhere. While they were still talking, the British tried to capture a Japanese ship which lead to firing of cannons from the Kagoshima side. The British, armed with superior modern weapons, were highly advantaged. They burned up with their bombardment 5-10 percent of what was Kagoshima city resulting in much material damage. But their landing operation that followed ended in a dismal failure. The samurai of Satsuma, armed with swords and outdated matchlock guns, offered greater resistance than anticipated. The British suffered 63 casualties (13 dead in battle and 7 more to die later from complications of their wounds) before they could make it back to their ships as opposed to 17 (5 of them dead) for Satsuma. Meanwhile, the old fashioned cannons hit the English flagship H.M.S. Euryalus which caught fire, lost the captain and had to cut loose the anchor to escape the bay.
Inspite of everything, the British declared victory and managed to get further reparations from the shogunate. The Japanese call this incident “The Satsuma-Anglo War” while the British call it “The British bombardment of Kagoshima“.

The British never got their “criminal”. The Satsuma people hauled out the anchor the British left behind, but gave it back to the British upon request not realizing what an important booty it was. Few people in the world ever managed to take booty from the Royal Navy in those days.

But it may have been for the best. After this war, Satsuma, which was in the process of forging an alliance with the Emperor to fight the shogun, realized it was unrealistic to keep Japan isolated. They dropped its policy of ousting the “barbarians” and forged an alliance with Britain that lasted until just before WWII. The British found an important market for weaponry and supplied Satsuma with weapons necessary to fight the shogun and continued to provide Japan with modern weapons from this day to the Russo-Japanese war and beyond.

Funny how history turns out.

Samurai Women

During the Second World War, the American war machine made history in employing the power of Hollywood to propagate negative image of their enemy. The results still resonate today.

One of many ideas they successfully spread was the ill treatment of Japanese women at the hands of Japanese men.

American women who have lived in Japan for years still have trouble realizing that the plight of Japanese women was never as bad as advertised. One White woman told me that Japanese women tolerate the infidelities of their husbands because there is nothing they could do about it. They would be economically helpless if they split with their husbands. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is the men who would be helpless without their wives.

A missionary in the 16th century noted that Japanese women chose their sexual partners of their own free will, had the right to instigate divorce, had the right to travel without permission from men, owned property, kept their own money, and even collected interest on loans to their own husbands. Wives were not the property of their husbands but held their own places in society. None of this was even imaginable for the European missionary.

Later on, the Tokugawa Shogunite (Edo period) prohibited female ownership of farmland and commercial real estate but they could still own, buy and sell residential houses. They had right to their own property and if a husband sold off their possessions, it was grounds for divorce. Some women loaned money to their husbands and there are documented cases where the court ruled in favor of the wife who collected the money with interest.

The travel of women were also restricted during the Edo period. “Guns coming in and women going out” were scrutinized carefully. This was basically to prevent insurgence. Regional warlords were required to keep their wives in Edo, the shogun’s capitol. The lords themselves traveled back and forth between their mansions in Edo and their domains in the provinces. Wives and children were effectively hostages of the shogun. To keep these hostages from escaping the city disguised as commoners, every woman was carefully checked. This intruded significantly to the freedoms of commoner women, but that was a side effect of a security policy rather than discrimination of an entire gender.

The samurai, as usual, lived with a different set of rules. Adultery was punishable by death. Absolute chastity was required of the women. This was primarily because if there were any dispute about who was the heir, it would cost lives. In fact there were lots of government bodies devoted to deciding who was the heir of whom and in what order. In the samurai’s world, whose mother you were defined a woman’s position. Whose wife you were counted for less.

Contrary to common belief, Japanese women have always had the right to choose their mates. Japanese women have rejected advances from Emperors since Heian times. Of course, economic conditions defined your rights in those days. Poor people sold off their daughters to brothels until the early 20th century. Many women were obliged to go into unhappy marriages or become mistresses due to economic reasons. But all things being equal, women had the right to reject an undesirable suitor.

The Meiji Restoration brought Western influence into Japan. Laws were written in the image of the French model which took away the right to instigate divorce from women. Also, women were no longer allowed to inherit fortunes. The Imperial government propagated the myth that Japanese women had always valued chastity more than their lives. This was against all documented evidence. Of course there were cases in which faithful wives committed suicide rather than face gang rape by incoming troops, but examples like that do not speak for the whole of society in peace time. Still, many people bought the story and a lot of women were extremely chaste until the fall of the Imperial government after WWII, but a chunk of them were probably people of the samurai lineage who would have been very prude anyway. The morality seeped to other classes by osmosis and the period between the fall of the Tokugawa shogunite and the fall of the Japanese Empire was probably the most sexually restricted time in the history of Japan.

For most of its history, women in Japan had more rights than women elsewhere. There is no doubt that there were plenty of cases in which women were mistreated or taken advantage of, but those things happened in other places as well. You have to put the comparison in the context of the times. It is true that women could not hold many professional jobs until modern times, but some businesses, such as hotels and inns, were traditionally ran by women. In fact the employment status of women was the same or worse in Western countries until well into the 20th century. The literacy rate of women in Japan was always higher than those of Europe or North America for as long as there are records. Western influence has arguably diminished more than enhanced the status of Japanese women until the latter half of the 20th century.

The power dynamic of the sexes were quite different in Japan. Men never opened doors for women and women held umbrellas for men. When walking in couples, women were supposed walk half a step behind her man, never abreast of him. This is why acts of male chauvinism, such as opening doors for women (an imported idea), was confused with feminism (another imported idea), and the word “feminizumu” in Japan often means something entirely different from what Westerners call “feminism”. But women always had control of their own finances and often controlled the finances of their husbands. There were many cases in which the samurai men could not obtain loans but their wives could.

The situation still applies today. Most husbands in Japan today hand over their paychecks to their wives who manage the money and grant small allowances to their husbands for buying cigarettes or paying bus fare and such. The short-lived Socialist Prime Minister Tomiichi Murayama, noted as a poor and honest man, demanded that every member of his coalition cabinet disclose the fortunes of themselves and their immediate families to the public. It was meant to enhance his squeaky clean image. He was shocked to find that his wife had amassed a fortune in excess of three million dollars, all quite legally. Such is the financial savvy of Japanese wives.

I can tell you first hand that it is a myth that Japanese women are helpless. I am married to one.

The Life of the Samurai

If you watch a lot of jidai geki, Japanese costume drama, you will see people killed all the time. The two bodyguards – Suke-san and Kaku-san – who protect Mito Koumon kill dozens of people every episode. There are at least three murders in every episode of Ooka Echizen and the judge routinely sentences the bad guys to death by beheading. (The show’s been running for over three decades. You’d think Edo would have run out of villains by now.)

Those samurai shows are something like Japan’s answer to Westerns. Steve McQueen alone killed more people in his TV series than actually lived in Wyoming in the 1950’s. The real world was not anywhere near as violent.

In the two and a half centuries that we now call the Edo Period (1603-1868), there were six beheadings in the district of Edo. The situation was also similar in other “tenryo” – districts governed by the shogun. Other areas, “han” governed by the regional lords, were even more peaceful. Crime was almost totally unheard of. When it did happen, it was handled by local low level authorities – such as the wakodoshu or yoriai which were autonomous community councils of the area.

The peace came at a price. Almost nobody was allowed to travel. Every “han” set up road blocks at random places where travelers were questioned and were demanded documents. You needed birth certificates from your temple, your identifications issued by the autonomous councils of whatever class you belonged to, certification of your business from your guild and passports from your local government, none of which were cheap or easy to get. To their credit, the samurai governments did not collect road taxes that I am aware of. They were not doing this for profit, they were doing this to keep the peace. So you see, Japanese bureaucracy has a long and hallowed tradition of being anal.

It must have been terribly difficult for criminals to get away with anything under these circumstances. Everyone lived in small societies where people knew each other. Temples and shrines kept records of who married who and how many children they begat, and still do. (I will make my pilgrimage to the temple in Saga one day and find out the name of my ancestor who fought in the army that repelled Kublai Khan.) Everyone knew who you were related to and who your friends were.

I was never a good student of history and the laws that governed the people of the Edo period is far too complex and voluminous for my mind to sort out or my fingers to type. Suffice it to say that the farmers lived by different laws than the samurai and that the samurai got more severe punishments for even the smallest offences.

While the commoners had much sexual freedom, the samurai did not. Adultery was pretty much a matter of privacy and something for husbands and wives to sort out by themselves for the commoner. For the samurai, it was punishable by death. A commoner could just apply for a job. A samurai had to take an oath of loyalty or death, and go through the gamut of legal red tape – and even then, there were things you could not do because you were not born to it. Both men and women could inherit if you were a commoner. In some cases, as with merchants in Osaka, fortunes were passed down to the oldest daughter. If you were a samurai, everything went to the oldest son. The second oldest son got nothing. He couldn’t even marry. He was just backup in case the older son died. (My father is still sore about how he – the overachiever – was treated in contrast to his pampered older brother – a total slacker – back when he was a kid in post-war Japan. Such is the power of tradition.) The commoners society was still very much matriarchal in the pagan Japanese tradition, while the samurai’s society, which had adopted Confucian morals, was totally patriarchal. Fashions changed for the commoner frequently, especially in the big cities. The samurai, whose clothes signified rank and position, wore pretty much the same clothes for hundreds of years.

It was tough being a samurai. A samurai was not supposed to sleep on his left side. The idea was, should an assassin come in during the night and chopped at you from above, you should not leave your right arm vulnerable to his attack. If he wounded your left arm, you could still draw your sword with your right arm and strike back. It was not at all likely that an assassin would come in during the centuries when Japan was at peace, but many samurai never slept on their left sides all their lives. Another example is the pot of gold they kept as war chest. Real samurai kept their ancestral suit of armor in a box with a small pot of gold to be used as war money in case some lord would call on them to join in battle. Many samurai became masterless ronin during the Edo period and lived in poverty doing odd end jobs to get by. Some samurai despaired of their lot and chose to commit suicide in a glorious finale rather than to starve to death. Yet after their death, it was found that the pot of gold in their box of armor was left untouched. In the mind of the samurai, this was not something you could buy your bread with.

Examples of the stoicism of the samurai abound. And each story was told to the next generation of samurai in a continuous cycle of re-feeding. The tradition went on until the story of Kiguchi Kohei, a buck private and bugle blower in the Sino-Japanese War of 1894, was told to every child born in Japan after his time. The practice was banned after Japan’s defeat in WWII.

So what happened when a samurai committed a crime against a commoner? There really aren’t very many examples to draw upon. A theft committed by a commoner was punishable by anything from public whippings to beheadings depending on the amount stolen. A theft by a samurai was decapitation regardless of the amount. In some cases, even suspicion of theft was enough grounds for suicide. That’s a lot of deterrence for crime. But more importantly, any family that produces a samurai who falls out of line could face “oie danzetsu” – literally, “discontinuation of family line”. The family will be deprived of all income. No son of the family will ever again be accepted by the authorities as heir to the position held by the family, and thus the whole family would become ronin – the most shamefull fate for any samurai family.

Some of you may have seen one of many movie adaptations of Chushingura. This is a story about a whole “han” becoming “oie danzetsu“. In this case, Lord Asano drew his sword in the shogun’s palace against prohibitions to do so and he is sentenced to suicide and all his subjects become ronin. A lot of subjects found re-employment in neighboring “han” but many were out of luck. These guys join together to avenge their master who they perceived was provoked into drawing his sword by Lord Kira. This “oie danzetsu” was the most dreaded of all punishments for the samurai. And as I explained before, if you draw your sword in public and failed to kill your opponent, you will have to commit suicide and your immediate family will face “oie danzetsu“. The same could happen if you commit a crime.

So if you are already a ronin you had nothing to lose, right? Not quite, like I said, even starving ronin held themselves to a very high moral standard. They had nothing else to live for but their honor. They would not do anything that would get them beheaded like common thieves.

It is true that a lot of unemployed samurai got fed up with it after a few generations and gave up their sword and turned commoner. It was quite understandable when you think that samurai couldn’t even sleep alone in the manner they pleased. In this case, they no longer had licence to kill nor could they have a surname. But they had freedoms they never had before.

Still, a lot of ronin remained ronin for many generations in the hope that they will one day be employed as samurai. The story of Chushingura is based on an actual incident. The subjects of Lord Asano became ronin in 1701. Some of the subjects tore into Lord Kira’s mansion and chopped off his head as revenge. But some of the ronin failed show up at the showdown. Those who participated in the revenge were sentenced to death by suicide for breaking the shogun’s ban against such attacks, but became heroes in the eyes of many in the warrior class and their families were duly rewarded. Those who didn’t show up lived in shame and suffered brutal discrimination for generations onward. In 1863, a group of ronin were employed by the shogun to battle the rising unrest of agitators against the waning Tokugawa shogunite. The elite squad of master swordsmen was called “Shinsen gumi” and included a descendant of one of the ronin who didn’t make it to the revenge against Kira more than seven scores before. It is recorded that he was still being discriminated against and every failure was being blamed on him. Only when he finally died bravely in battle was the seeming cowardice of his ancestors atoned for. His family suffered for generations for this moment of glory.

A great deal of this tradition has been lost. In fact it is hard to imagine what it was like being a samurai for us today. They generally did not live in luxury. They were idle in peace time, but they were required to live in a state of alertness all the time. They were rewarded, for the most part, with honor. Just plain honor and nothing else. What a pain in the ass a life like that must have been.

Historical Samurai Drama

NHK is Japan’s equivalent of BBC. It is a non-profit public organization that handles public broadcasting, known most prominently for its lightning fast earthquake warnings and secondly for excellent educational programs and nature documentaries. Drama is not quite their forte. Their fiction programs are generally higher quality than Japanese commercial network programs, but that is not saying much.

Since 1963, it has broadcast single-season, one-off, historical dramas that span, with few exceptions, from January to December, broadcast on Sunday nights from 8pm-9pm. It is an unusually high quality show among a sea of irrelevant and pitiful Japanese TV programming, with only a handful of disappointments. We are now watching the 55th annual historical drama and it is shaping up to be quite a good story.

Of the 55 programs, 19 were set in the Sengoku Period, otherwise known as The Age of War from the late 15th to late 16th centuries, mostly focused on the later part of the Sengoku Period with some crossover to the Azuchi and early Edo Periods. Only one was focused on the late Muromachi to Sengoku Period transition. Judging from the number of dramas being made, the most interesting and entertaining period of samurai history is the period between 1493 and 1603. (Not to mention, most samurai video games seem to be set in the same time period.)

9 programs were set in the early to middle Edo period (1603-1868), which was mostly a period of peace with few dramatic events. However, to be fair, most of NHK’s Friday night and Saturday night historical programs were set in the Edo period, but the stories tended to be about city dwelling commoners rather than about warriors. Friday night and Saturday night costume dramas (which moved time frames frequently and occupied the Wednesday slot for a while) were often good quality but was never up to par with the Sunday night dramas which remain the crown jewel of NHK programming.

13 of the Sunday night dramas were set in the waning days of the Tokugawa shogunite, the end of the Edo Period period known as Bakumatsu (1858-1868) with some crossover into the Meiji era. This seems to be the second most popular era for samurai drama. It spans the time between the arrival of Commodore Perry to the fall of the Tokugawa government. It often crosses over to the early Meiji Era including such events as the Satsuma Rebellion.

Most other parts of Japanese history are given little attention. The period surrounding the famed conflict between the Heike and Genji has been dramatized five times. The Heian Period, the time period of the famous movie Rashomon, was the subject only twice. (Although that may not count as samurai stories because the samurai class was not established in those days.) One program focused on the Mongol Invasion, one on the Ryukyu Kingdom, one on the Imperial Schizm, one on the later Meiji Period, one on Post WWII Japan, and one drama series on Japanese immigrants in North America starring Toshiro Mifune as one of the immigrants.

The drama that won the highest ratings of all time was Dokuganryu Masamune (1987) starring (at the time untested) Ken Watanabe as Date Masamune, a one-eyed samurai who was one of the maverick warriors of the Sengoku Period. Watanabe pulled off the part brilliantly, shooting him into a glorious career.

So most of the dramas focus on either the Sengoku Period, the period of war just before the lengthy peacetime of the Edo period, and the Bakumatsu Period, the period of killing and confusion just after the Edo period. This Sengoku-to-Bakumatsu time span is what we have been most closely associating with Japanese costume drama for the past half century.

This is just the breakdown of one TV slot, but it reflects the popularity of samurai stories in general. Big epic sagas involving multiple story lines and numerous characters amid tidal currents of historic events are usually set in either the Sengoku Period or the Bakumatsu era, while small scale light entertainment involving fewer characters in simpler story structures tend to set the stage in the peaceful Edo Period.

Literary types still regard the stories surrounding the Genpei Wars, the series of conflicts between the Heike clan and the Genji clan (1180-1185), as the representative examples Japanese costume drama, but that view seems to be dated. The Genpei Wars was what the samurai of the Edo Period enjoyed reading about.

So in order to write a samurai story, you should set your stage carefully, choosing the right historical period for the story you want to write. James Clavell’s Shogun is set in the late Sengoku Period. Times of great turmoil makes for great stories about warriors.

Come to think of it, something feels familiar about this. Let me see. Japan enjoyed peace and stability for over a century under the benign Muromachi Shogunate, but due to the selfishness and apathy of the ruling elite, the government collapsed and all the regional lords began to fight for supremacy in a no-holds-barred battle royale called the Age of War ( the Sengoku period) until power became concentrated in a handful of winners who fought the final end-game until the nation was united under one banner, the Tokugawa shogunate. A period of peace lasted over two hundred years, during which the rulers became complacent to the evil threat from over seas and were overthrown by a renegade band of modernists who would adopt foreign technology, build a modernized army, fight the shogun, and create a new nation in order to repel the foreign colonizers intent on turning the country into a decadent hive of opium addicts. The dissenters win again, but this time reinstating the emperor as head of state. Does that sound vaguely like the history of the Jedi’s galaxy to you? An alternating history of Dark Times and the Republic? And the drama is always set in the transition era between the dark times and the good times.

This is actually not a coincidence, as this YouTube clip explains. George Lucas is a big fan of Japanese costume drama, jidai-geki, which is where the word “Jedi” came from. And the underlying theme of almost all Japanese period fiction is yonaoshi, literally “world fixing”, the quest to restore a damaged world. The biggest epics are about the fall and rise of the shogun’s rule, or the emperor’s rule, or even the regional lord’s rule. Lucas must have figured it out and adopted it into the triple trilogy of Star Wars.

It is not entirely unique to Japanese historical drama. You can find similar composition in Lord of the Rings, only not as pronounced.

Historical drama has a way of focusing on the pinch points of history. Nobody cares about what happened ten years before the American Independence or what people were doing in Europe during the Belle Epoch. We want to see what was happening when empires and dictatorships rise and fall. That is where the stories are. The same can be said of samurai fiction.

Samurai Sword Rules

Contrary to popular belief, Japan of the Edo era, (1603-1868) was a very peaceful place. By one estimate, the total executions for all of Japan was lower than that of the city of Paris during the same period. Murders and other violent crimes were rare, women’s rights and gay rights were so advanced that they actually declined when Japan started to Westernize. Some conservative Japanese politicians are now trying to roll back women and gay rights, but such moves are actually not conservative, or even reactionary, at all if you take a longer view of Japanese history.

The samurai were generally under-employed in this time of peace. The highest ranking ones became paper pushing bureaucrats, the lowest ranking ones became land-owning farmers, the ones in the middle took various jobs in public service ranging from art curating to law enforcement. That does not account for the so-called ronin, masterless samurai, who had a choice of keeping their samurai status, making it practically impossible to find common employment, or to renounce their samurai status and forfeit their privileges, meaning that they would have to bow to anyone with a sword for the rest of their lives and for future generations. The shogun’s government was not much help if you were a ronin. Although it was never made explicit, it seemed that they preferred that ronin would choose to become commoner. They were wary of too many people loitering about with the right to bear arms.

It was the birth right of the samurai to carry a sword. Two swords, in fact; a katana for dueling and a shorter wakizashi as a spare. Although the samurai were forbidden from drawing their swords under pain of death over a wide spectrum of conditions, it was an extremely important symbol of their authority for centuries. In theory, the samurai could use their sword to protect their honor if anybody looked at them in a funny way. In practice, you could were not permitted to draw your sword in government buildings and a variety of public spaces, and even when you could, you had to issue a long series of warnings before actually drawing your sword. Any violation of these rules could have dire consequences.

One of many rules was koiguchi san sun. Literally, it meant “three sun (about 9 centimeters) from koiguchi“. Koiguchi (carp’s mouth) was the opening of the sheath, and it meant that the blade was drawn 9 centimeters out of the sheath. This was the threshold at which point the sword was officially “drawn”, even though most of the blade was still in the sheath. If you pulled your sword three sun out of the sheath at the wrong place at the wrong time, you could not only be ordered to commit suicide, but your entire family could become ronin for all future generations. Even if you pulled your sword at the right place for the right reasons, you and your family may face the same fate if you failed to kill your opponent. If a commoner insulted your honor, you had the noble right to kill him, but once the sword was drawn, you had to kill him or you had to commit suicide. On the other hand, if you did not draw your sword and forgave the commoner, you faced no punishment. If five commoners insulted you at once, you had to kill all five before the sword was sheathed again or face death. This all meant that if you were going to draw your sword, you had better have a very good reason for doing so.

There is an old fictional story in which a group of ruffians confronted a lone samurai. When the samurai put his hand on his sword, one of the ruffians shouted,
“If you fail to kill any one of us you are doomed!”
The samurai growled softly.
“Five, is it?”
The five ruffians backed down and left without confirming their number.

If two warriors were in confrontation, if the sword was three sun out of the sheath, it was grounds for retaliation. Some samurai could draw very quickly in what is called iaigiri and slice you in half in the same swift motion it took to draw the sword. You could not afford to wait until your attacker had completely drawn his sword. Thus, a sword was deemed officially drawn if it was only partly out of the sheath.

The rules were even more strict on guns during the Edo period. Just being seen with a gun at the wrong place could have gotten you killed. And if you pulled your gun out of the holster, it was the same thing as pulling your sword out of your sheath.

All these rules made Japan very peaceful. Trouble only started when foreigners started coming in. Most Europeans who came to Japan had come via the Indian Ocean and were utterly spoiled as the superior power in the Asian countries they visited along the way. By the time they reached Japan, they were quite accustomed to routinely threatening the Asian locals by drawing their weapons. Westerners were unaware what consequences a drawn weapon might bring in Japan, and the Japanese expected the foreigners to have the same kill-or-die intentions as themselves would have when they saw a weapon drawn.

Shortly before Japan closed its doors to foreigners in the 16th century, some Portuguese merchants, in an effort to beat down the price of silk they were trying to buy in the port of Hirado, had the bright idea of drawing their weapons to threaten the locals just when the samurai were stepping in to calm the quarrel. Over a dozen men died in a matter of minutes. The foreigners pulled out of Hirado and hence forth traded only at Nagasaki, which remained the only open port during Japan’s two centuries of isolation.

There were similar problems after Japan opened its ports following the visit of Commodore Mathew Perry. Sailors who landed in Japan behaved badly. They drew their weapons when they were not supposed to, expecting the locals to cower and do their bidding. Soon, limbs were lopped off Obi Wan style all over the country. The foreigners were quick to demand extraterritoriality after that, making themselves immune to Japanese law. The Japanese, unaccustomed to diplomacy, and thoroughly fed up by the misbehavior of the foreign sailors, took it to mean “You go hang your own assholes.” They were almost too glad to grant extraterritoriality to the foreigners. The unequal treaties that followed were not revoked until half a century later when Japan proved itself a modern power by defeating the Russians in war.

The impression of the vicious Japanese persisted much longer and was still in evidence after the end of the Second World War. But it all began because Western sailors could not keep their weapons under wraps.

Review: Plot Perfect by Paula Munier

There is no such thing as a bad tool, the saying goes, only a tool used for the wrong purpose. Trying to drive a nail with a screw driver can be very frustrating, as can trying to turn a Phillips head screw with a hammer. If there is a perfect tool for every task, there should be an appropriate task for every tool.

Books on how to write are like tools; a book that does not suit one writer can be helpful to another. A quick glance through Amazon or Goodreads will show you that a vast spectrum of books on writing are rated four stars or more (which is utterly unhelpful when you are trying to choose a book to buy). This is because every book is a perfect fit for somebody. The trouble is to find the best writing book for yourself.

I rate my writing books on a three dimensional graph with three axis, plotter-pantser, inspirational-instructional, beginner-advanced. Plot Perfect: Building Unforgettable Stories Scene by Scene by Paula Munier, I would say, lands squarely on the “plotter-instructional-advanced” category. I also need to add another scale and that is “completeness”. No text book can cover all the topics completely, but this book does a good job on this measure also.

Once again, we see an explanation of cards, outlines, and bubble charts, but with special emphasis on the creation of complex, contradictory characters and well constructed plot. The author is a senior agent for a literary agency that handles content for major Hollywood studios and media conglomerates and her book is clearly targeted for the professional and equivalent. It will probably be most helpful to people who have spent a good deal of time writing and have specific skills they want to horn. Not highly recommended for the first time writer looking for an entry level text to prepare for her first participation in NaNoWriMo. Munier writes:

I have a client who’s a great writer – and he has received four prestigious Pushcart Prize nominations to prove it. But despite those heady credentials and his newly minted Master of Fine Arts, he’s having trouble with plot.

That is the audience she is writing for. Her client is having trouble with plot in the same sense that Tiger Woods is having trouble with his irons. Those of us who have neither heady credentials nor an MFA might find it a better application of our time and energy to digest something more basic and fundamental before venturing into master class territory.

The main down side of this book is that, since it is directed at writers in the know, the instructions can at times be telegraphic. Her entire lecture on story setting spans all of four pages, and her epic tome on humor is a page and a half. As knowledgeable writers, we are supposed to “get it” just by reading these curt transmissions. Inevitably there will be parts we don’t get, for which she presents suggested reading material as successful examples of the kind of writing she promotes. If there are too many passages you don’t “get”, the reading list could grow pretty long.

That said, Munier’s instructions are practical and on point. With charts, diagrams, and bullet points, she lays out the blow by blow how-to’s of plot construction and character development. There are no lofty ivory tower musings or discussions of existential angst and structuralist ambiguities.

These days, every topic of learning has been divided into fractional sub-genres. Even books on writing are specialized into books on plot, characterization, story structure, dialogue, tension, prose, and other elements. This book is primarily focused on plot, a small portion of all the ingredients needed to create a novel. Yet, within the confines of its narrow range, this is the most complete book on the market. Think of a professional-level instructional book on carburetor replacement for very serious and accomplished mechanics.

Like all good instructional books, this book will direct you to more books you should read. (Seriously. When three how-to-write books in a row directs you toward Joseph Campbell, it’s time to read Joseph Campbell.) In particular, this book should inspire you to read Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon of which Munier presents an excellent case study methodically dissecting its plot elements. It would surely be helpful for the serious writer to emulate her example and try to compose their own case study on, say, Pride and Prejudice. Exercises like that will take time, and if you are not patient enough to invest your time in your push-ups and sit-ups, you need not apply. One of the reviewers on Goodreads comments “Useful, but a bit heavy on the lists of books to read and learn from.” Suck it up. Nobody said learning to write a novel was easy.

This is a very focused and very in-depth book. It should be read as such. It could be the perfect book if it fits your needs. The sad part is that we do not see more writers who are good enough and determined enough to benefit from books such as this.