The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet
.jpg) First edition | |
| Author | David Mitchell |
|---|---|
| Country | United Kingdom |
| Language | English |
| Genre | Drama Historical fiction |
| Publisher | Sceptre |
Publication date | 13 May 2010 |
| Media type | Print (Hardback) |
| Pages | 480 |
| ISBN | 0-340-92156-0 |
The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet is an historical fiction novel by British author David Mitchell published by Sceptre in 2010.[1] It is set during the Dutch trading concession with Japan in the late 18th-century, during the period of Japanese history known as Sakoku.
Plot[edit]
The novel begins in the summer of 1799 at the Dutch East India Company trading post Dejima in the harbor of Nagasaki. It tells the story of a Dutch trader's love for a Japanese midwife who is spirited away into a sinister mountain temple cult.
Part 1: The Bride For Whom We Dance[edit]
In 1799, Japanese midwife Orito Aibagawa helps deliver the baby of Magistrate Shiroyama.
Jacob de Zoet, working as a clerk on a Dutch merchant ship, arrives at the island of Dejima, midway through an ad hoc trial of Daniel Snitker, the acting chief of a factory on the island. Jacob hopes to make his fortune working under Chief Vorstenbosch and the Dutch East India Company to pay for the dowry of his betrothed, Anna. After Snitker is fired for smuggling, Deputy Melchior Van Cleef considers Jacob for the position. Jacob meets Orito, who, along with being a midwife, is also a talented student and the only female at the medical academy led by Dr. Marinus. Jacob sneaks a Psalter onto Dejima, and if discovered as a Christian, he will be deported at the least and executed at the worst due to Japan's anti-Christian laws. The interpreter, Ogawa Uzaemon, keeps Jacob's Psalter a secret, and the two form a friendship.
Jacob realizes that Vorstenbosch only outed Snitker to make an example: Vorstenbosch punishes Jacob for not signing a forged document by forcing him to remain on the island for longer than his allotted time.
On New Year's Day, Orito is taken to live at the Mount Shiranui Shrine, run by Abbot Enomoto.
Part 2: The Mountain Fastness[edit]
A monk from Enomoto's monastery escapes with a scroll detailing the atrocities at Mount Shiranui: the monks rape the women kept at the Shrine, and the cult sacrifices the babies to attain immortality. The women of the Shrine, however, believe that their children are still alive, living down in the city. The scroll eventually comes into the possession of Jacob.
Unlike the other women, Orito isn't intended to be a mother, but a midwife to help the other women through their pregnancies. Orito eventually discovers a way out and nearly escapes the compound, but her guilt for abandoning the women overpowers her, and she gives herself up to the Shrine.
Before the events of the novel, Ogawa Uzaemon intended to marry Orito, but their circumstances prevented it. He still loves her, however, and, being a trained samurai, he mounts a rescue mission. When they arrive at the Shrine, however, Uzaemon is betrayed by his team to Enomoto, who kills him.
Part 3: The Master Of Go[edit]
Captain Penhaligon leads a crew of Englishmen in their attempt to take the trade route with Nagasaki for themselves (in response to the fall of the VOC on New Year's Day). They do this with the help of Daniel Snitker, assisting out of hatred for Vorstenbosch (who has left for the Netherlands) and Jacob. As the Dutchmen on Dejima refuse to submit to the English, the conflict escalates to actual war: the English ship fires, accidentally hitting Nagasaki as well. With Japanese firepower against them, the English retreat.
Having earned Shiroyama's respect in the conflict, Jacob gives the magistrate the scroll listing the atrocities of the Shrine of Mount Shiranui. Shiroyama heroically sacrifices himself to kill Enomoto, poisoning their drinks at their game of Go.
Part 4: The Rainy Season[edit]
Years, later, Jacob marries and has a son with a Japanese woman other than Orito. Orito lives happily, leading the academy the late Marinus founded.
Part 5: The Last Pages[edit]
Jacob returns to the Netherlands without his son, remarries, and has another son. On his deathbed, he thinks of Orito.
======
Development
Mitchell spent four years working on the novel, researching and crafting a vision of Japan at the end of the 18th century.[1] Small details, such as if people used shaving cream or not, could require much time so that a single sentence could take half a day to write. "It was tough," Mitchell said. "It almost finished me off before I finished it off."[1]
The origins of the novel can be found in 1994 when Mitchell was backpacking in western Japan while on a teaching trip.[1] He had been looking for a cheap lunch in Nagasaki and came upon the Dejima museum. "I never did get the lunch that day," Mitchell said, "but I filled a notebook with information about this place I'd never heard of and resolved one day to write about it."[1]
Some of the events depicted in the novel are based on real history, such as HMS Phaeton's visit to the Dutch territory of Dejima and subsequent ritual suicide of Nagasaki Magistrate Matsudaira Yasuhide.[2] The main character, Jacob de Zoet, bears some resemblance to the real-life Hendrik Doeff, who wrote a memoir about his time in Dejima.[3]
Late in the book, "land of a thousand autumns" is described as one of the names used by the Japanese for Japan.[4]
Awards and nominations
The novel won the 2011 Commonwealth Writers' Prize regional prize (South Asia and Europe); was long listed for the 2010 Man Booker Prize for Fiction, was one of Time's "Best Books of the Year" (No. 4 Fiction),[5] and a New York Times Notable Book of the Year.[6] It was shortlisted for the 2011 Walter Scott Prize.[7]
See also[edit]
References[edit]
- ^ a b c d e "How David Mitchell Brings Historical Fiction To Life", NPR, Weekend Edition Saturday, August 21, 2010
- ^ Tonkin, Boyd (7 May 2010). "The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet, By David Mitchell - Books, Life & Style". Belfast Telegraph. Retrieved 16 May 2012.
- ^ Borghino, Jose (29 May 2010). "History and narrative gloriously entwined". The Australian. Retrieved 16 May 2012.
- ^ maryb (12 August 2010). "The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet by David Mitchell (review)". Alone with each other ... Retrieved 1 November 2013.
- ^ The Top 10 Everything of 2010, Time Magazine, 2010
- ^ 100 Notable Books of 2010, The New York Times, Nov 24, 2010
- ^ "Walter Scott historical fiction shortlist announced". BBC News. 1 April 2011. Retrieved 12 June 2011.
External links[edit]
Categories:
====
Amazon
====
From the United States
Martin Zook
5.0 out of 5 stars A Most Wise Tale
Reviewed in the United States on August 18, 2010
Verified Purchase
The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet works on multiple levels, as noted elsewhere here. My neighbor Roger Brunyate says that Mitchell writes small, medium, and large. I agree and think this can be even further defined as the individual characters, historical setting, and spiritual.
I think we can also view the book through Aristotilian lenses, where the action (a very important word in this book) is the most important element, the characters second, and the thought (given the action and characters what is possible going forward) follows.
I say action is important because in the Eastern philosophy of the awakened mind (Buddhism) action is translated as the Sanskrit karma and consists of three parts: 1) cause, 2) effect, 3) motivation. It is the third element that makes the action complete. So, the action of generosity is completed when the motivation is good - that is nothing is expected in return and there is no reluctance about the giving (think Jacob when he gifts the dictionary to Aibagawa and the subsequent repercussions).
A reviewer here who unjustly denigrated their perception quite rightly noted that the actions of the characters came from within themselves. And that's a large part of the multifaceted brilliance of this book.
Early on (p.115), Jacob is asked to define repercussions, and does so thusly: "a consequence; the result of an action. A repercussion..." And that's what this book is about: the repercussions of the characters' actions, and collectively (yes, there is collective karma) the actions of their peoples.
The characters don't act in a void. As Shiroyama notes in his final go match against the Abbot, it seems as if the two have been pieces or puppets controlled by other forces, a possibility raised throughout the book. Mitchell doesn't conclusively address the issue, but the book leaves the impression it could be the energy and momentum these two have developed over their lives that is (they suffer the repercussions of their own actions - karma); or Mitchell holds out the vague possibility of some unnamed force of the world (fate?).
The main action of the book is the the ends (repercussions) of the characters, especially the unity achieved between Jacob and Aibagawa. This is a special unity because he is a figure of wisdom (seeing the true nature of a phenomena by understanding the phenomena and how it is connected to other phenomena), as is Aibagawa. He is the masculine element, typically associated with the direct light of the sun (think about his hair) that dispels the darkness and illuminates. Masculine wisdom is intellectual and direct, such as when Jacob revealed the incriminating scroll directly to the magistrate, not through translators as is customary.
Feminine wisdom - more intuitive - is associated with the reflected light of the moon, which illuminates all in a softer light that does not dispel the darkness. So, in that regard it is often regarded as more complete. It's worth noting here, Aibagawa is the one who connects all the dots and sees the whole picture at the end. It is she who sees how the chain of cause/effect has made her path possible and the role suffering played in it.
This addresses, however briefly, the small and large of the book. On the medium level as Roger defined it, is the historical. Some readers here raised the issue of what they see as the inferior quality of Mitchell's historical recounting.
I think that can be better understood if one considers a highly likely influence on Mitchell: The Autumn of the Middle Ages, by the Dutch historian Johan Huizinga, which was republished in 1997. Briefly, its import is that it is a breakthrough approach to viewing new eras by defining them in an examination of the decaying previous era, exactly the approach Mitchell takes in his book. (This also strikes me as a very feminine approach as detailed above.)
So in that regard, Mitchell is examining the emergence of a new global era that conflates East & West.
Perhaps the thing that most impresses me about this book is how close it comes to expressing the unity of Western dual thinking (a system of thought based on paradoxical poles - masculine and feminine, for instance) with Eastern nondual thinking (masculine and feminine are so connected that there is no inherent difference). Experts no less than Carl Gustave Jung and the Dalai Lama have unanimously held forth that ultimately the two schools of thought diverge. But Mitchell has produced a text that at least makes me wonder.
Let me apologize for yammering on at such length. If some are interested in discussing this book further, I am greatly interested and I believe Amazon allows for such things.
7 people found this helpful
=====
C. E. Stevens
VINE VOICE
4.0 out of 5 stars Intriguing page turner that comes up a bit short
Reviewed in the United States on January 30, 2013
Verified Purchase
(Caution: some spoilers ahead)
I thought the first 200 or so pages of The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet were absolutely brilliant: Mitchell succeeded precisely by dismissing any suspicions or expectations that his story would be a reheated version of the novel that--for better or for worse--has become the archetype of historical fiction written about Japan by non-Japanese: Shogun. Where Shogun is expansive, Thousand Autumns starts off delightfully claustrophobic; whereas Shogun's protagonist quickly becomes a Japanophile, gains entry into the inaccessible and the exotic, and sets off on a series of adventures, Thousand Autumns' protagonist is--although intelligent and likable--clearly out of his element, lacking in power amongst his own people let alone a foreign race, and more observer than participant. By creating a story about Dejima (rather than "Japan" per se) that is both as inward-looking and in-between worlds as that tiny island, Mitchell quickly finds his own voice and creates a unique story very different than Shogun and focused on universal and timeless issues like race, power, and faith. Looking back, I found the beating of Sjako--the reasons for it, the reactions to it--in many ways to be among the most impactful and passionate sections of the entire book: full of deeper meaning, demanding of the reader's introspection, and--brilliantly, and unconventionally for this genre--having completely nothing to do with "Japan".
Then, abruptly, Mitchell abandons his sympathetic protagonist and the nuanced confines of Dejima (the island becomes a character in its own right) for a good 200 pages to focus on the Orito-in-captivity story. If the first part of the novel was an interesting expansion of The Pacific Journal of Adam Ewing from Cloud Atlas, the second part was an oddly flat retelling of An Orison of Sonmi-451 from the same tale, without the nuance or deeper meaning. I found myself bewildered by Enomoto and the infanticide plot line ... it touched upon some of the recurring motifs of faith, power, and oppression but not in a convincing or compelling manner. Enomoto feels like a cardboard cutout villain, the "good guys" like Orito and Ogawa are oddly impotent and less interesting as main protagonists compared to the supporting roles they previously held, and the whole strange storyline seemed to drag on unnecessarily long. Moreover, despite being set in "normal" Japan with a cast of Japanese characters, the whole part felt jarringly un-Japanese. The setting could have been a monastery in Europe, the characters talked, acted, and thought distinctly in a European fashion despite clumsy attempts to "orientalize" things. Creating a believable world and realistic characters doing reasonable things in it is a big challenge with historical fiction, and Mitchell is usually spot-on in this regard; in this case, it just did not come together or ring true.
I was happy to get back to de Zoet in the last third of the novel, but this new de Zoet felt more like someone out of Clavell's tale: heroic, powerful, master of Japanese language and custom. Mitchell wrapped up loose ends fairly well and adopts a somber tone of melancholia suitable for the final plot twists and turns ... but at the end of the journey, he still leaves the reader feeling a bit unfulfilled.
Most of my comments about the book have been fairly negative. Yet, it was a page-turner; even when I could see where Mitchell was going, I still enjoyed being taken along for the ride. de Zoet was, overall, an interesting and thoughtful protagonist. Yet, it just seemed fairly predictable and conventional in the end--it was like eating a meal that is good enough, but you keep waiting for that extra little something to make it special and memorable. Perhaps Cloud Atlas just raised my expectations too high--honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd have thought Thousand Autumns was his earlier work, not Cloud Atlas. After all, in the latter, Mitchell essentially weaves together *six* historical fiction novels (some of the "history" just happens to be in the future). In comparison, this just feels a bit less ambitious and lacking in its ability to live up to its potential: Mitchell had a chance to transform the genre; instead he seems to just conform to it. Cloud Atlas grabbed my heart and stimulated my brain; Thousand Autumns kept me more or less entertained, but the fact that I did not end up enjoying it as much as I truly hoped I would left me feeling a little betrayed and disappointed. I debated between three and four stars, but decided to round up in the end--not a bad novel by any means, but perhaps a victim of my lofty expectations.
9 people found this helpful
=====
bcbeads
5.0 out of 5 stars Brilliant. Beautifully written. Well researched. A rare gem of an historical novel. 10 stars!
Reviewed in the United States on March 28, 2017
Verified Purchase
Fascinating story. Brilliantly written. The "some sexual content" is written in obscure, sometime poetic, sometimes bored, no big deal language that is, in fact, not at all explicit. But you can figure it out, so I cannot say there is no sexual content. Plus one thread of the story follows a corrupt and sinister sexual cult run out of a shrine whose patron is the most powerful and dangerous Japanese official in the area. However, I would have given this book to my clever voraciously reading son, had it been around when he was 12 years old.
I could hardly put this novel down. I wanted the pleasure of reading it never to stop. I kept backtracking, rereading passages and whole chapters just for the delight of the language. I laughed out loud, and I cried. It is a very complicated story, populated by assorted con artists, ugly Dutch trading company exploiters of whatever they can find to exploit, whose racial attitudes are those of the 1700s. And the Japanese are no better, except that is it their country they are trying to protect from being overtaken by outsiders. Japanese society was extremely rigid, with horrible tortures and punishments for all kinds of apparently slight infractions. But then the Dutch at that time were brutal in their quest to grab chunks of "empire" away from England and Spain. Japan was one of the few places where the people being exploited for trade managed to contain the foreign invaders, and made the trading company follow their rules. (While in the same time period, England and Spain were imposing their systems of law, religion, and culture on their subjugated colonies, with not much care for what the locals thought or wanted.)
So in this time and place a young Dutch clerk, nephew of a protestant minister, has signed on with the Dutch Trading Company V.O.C. to make his fortune with a five year contract and return to Holland with enough money to win the heart of his future father-in-law, and be married to the girl he adores. We meet all the characters he has to live, work, and get along with, Dutch and Japanese, some earnest and fair, some merely greedy bastards, and some pure evil. He has to learn the language, keep his balance on the Company's tightrope while juggling the spoken and unspoken rules of both the the Company's and the Japanese officials' games.
This group of outsiders is contained on a small trading island of warehouses, offices, and rooming houses for the officials of the Company, with only the Company men and their slaves and servants (and local bar girls) for social interaction. They are restricted from entering Japan proper. Their interactions with the Japanese are limited to formal business, translations, accounts, stock inventories, negotiating contracts for sales of various commodities, and trials and punishments for those caught breaking the many strict and arbitrary Japanese laws. This is no kind of a "junket," nor is it a particularly posh posting. Exotic yes, but most of young Jacob's co-workers lack the imagination to appreciate their environment as anything other than something to be endured, with the dream of wealth at the end of their term. Jacob does appreciate his surroundings, applies himself to learning Japanese, treats people fairly and with respect, but he gets in trouble because he is honest, and refuses to wink at his superior's fraudulent schemes to enrich themselves.
The ending is not at all what I expected. I do not want to give anything away. It is both happier and sadder than I thought it might be. But it is a realistic and very satisfying end to a remarkable story. I have some Dutch ancestors, who in the 17th century went west, and ultimately ended up in one of England's colonies in North America. This book helps me imagine what their lives might have been, had they decided to sign on to a Dutch East Asia Company contract instead.
54 people found this helpful
=====
Wheelchair Assassin
4.0 out of 5 stars Slightly flawed, but innovative and affecting
Reviewed in the United States on April 4, 2011
Verified Purchase
Shoving readers with frightful immediacy into a place and era that hasn't exactly been extensively portrayed in contemporary Western fiction, David Mitchell's "The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet" is easily the finest novel set in turn-of-the-18th-century Japan I've ever read, and should manage to equally impress both literary buffs who like the occasionally history lesson and history nerds who want to inject some fiction into their reading. Setting its human drama and occasional bawdy comedy against the backdrop of a society in flux, it takes readers back to a time before airplanes, cell phones, and the Travel Channel, when trips abroad were long and perilous and information was scarce and closely guarded. In lesser hands the novel could be a dry historical, but Mitchell shows an admirable willingness to get his hands dirty as he enlivens his tale of culture clash and forbidden love with plenty of violence, colorful language and anatomically explicit descriptions. Readers will likely be torn on the effectiveness of the various literary tricks that Mitchell employs (splicing lines of description together with lines of dialogue, especially, could strike readers as either brilliant or maddening), but there's little denying the emotional depth and attention to detail that he brings to the story.
As the book's title suggests, its action is centered around the experiences of Jacob de Zoet, a young, devoutly Christian clerk who's joined a Dutch trade mission to Japan in an effort to earn his fortune and secure his bride of choice back home. Upon his arrival at the trading outpost of Dejima just outside Nagasaki, Jacob quickly finds himself plunged into a world dominated by intrigue, greed, and hidden agendas, where the Dutch and their Japanese hosts seemingly compete to see which side can be more duplicitous and arrogant. A romantic element is also introduced in the form of De Zoet's forbidden infatuation with a deformed Japanese midwife, but those expecting a standard-issue historical love story will be getting something else entirely. In spite of the tenuous moral center provided by De Zoet and a few like-minded characters, The Thousand Autumns is in many ways a deeply cynical novel, with depictions of altruism and fidelity greatly outnumbered by those of deceit, self-seeking and worse. Even De Zoet, who's so upstanding in relation to most of the other characters that he practically squeaks when he walks, harbors plenty of outsized ambitions and personal conflicts beneath the piety and rectitude on his surface.
The book is at its best in its opening chapters, as it shoves together the combustible elements of a cranky, homesick Dutch trade mission reeling from years of graft and corruption and a shady Japanese contingent trying to wring every bit of money possible out of their guests. The narrative moves along at a pretty breakneck pace in these early chapters, although Mitchell does occasionally slow down to allow his characters to relate wrenching tales of brutality, deprivation, and levels of racial prejudice and hostility that would appall the average Klansman. The story bogs down a little bit in its middle section as Mitchell decides to focus on other, somewhat less interesting characters, but comes roaring back to life in its final act, shifting the focus back to De Zoet and introducing a potentially hostile British crew for a rousing final clash between would-be imperial powers. The final confrontation, along with the intrigues leading up to it, makes for a worthy ending for a book that manages to bring together a frequently bleak worldview and unflinching descriptiveness with bursts of poetic language and sentimentality that can bring a smile to even the most cynical of readers. Throughout the novel Mitchell portrays an existence that's significantly more nasty, brutish and short than in these relatively comfortable times, but he does manage to inject just enough decency and humor to keep the proceedings from getting truly depressing.
2 people found this helpful
=====
Literate Housewife
5.0 out of 5 stars For the Love of Dr. Marinus
Reviewed in the United States on April 23, 2011
Verified Purchase
I loved and adored The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet. This was another audiobook I rented from my local library. Despite how much I gushed my way through my first David Mitchell novel, I'm at a loss as to how to go about writing a review. There is so much that goes on and it's all inner-related. Unlike most of my reads, I actually took a fair amount of notes and I even highlighted quotes (will explain below). You would think that this would make for a rather good start. Well, I've been sitting with these notes for ages. Nothing's coming. So, I've decided I would just transpose my thoughts into a post of sorts:
=====
The Dutch, be they characters or references are everywhere! I am in heaven. My favorite Dutch-specific quote comes from Jacob De Zoet:
Mercenaries are risky allies, as we Dutch know well.
Now I think I'm going to adopt the catch phrase "As we Dutch know well" for myself. It could literally go anywhere, but I've yet had the opportunity to use it. I cannot wait for it.
If I could give an Oscar for Best Supporting Character in a Book, it would go to Dr. Marinus. He is hilarious, a stand-up friend, and much more open-minded than he first appears. The first time he was introduced, I never in my life would have imagined the role he'd play in Miss Ibagowa's life. He has made me laugh out loud more than any other character. My favorite quote from Dr. Marinus came after Fischer, an Eastern European who does whatever he can to diminish De Zoet, tells the story of his war experience. It made me laugh Diet Coke out of my nose:
"The passage where you ate the maggots," remarks Marinus, "rather over-egged the brûlée."
There is one scene (which I will not divulge as it would be a spoiler) in which he made me so home sick for my best friends. It's good to know that I have Dr. Marinus' in my life. I just wish they weren't so far away.
These villains are villainous! I can't say that I love to hate them, because there is nothing lovable about them. What I loved was the way it all played out in the end.
Jonathan Aris is making listening to this audiobook that much more fun. The way he reads the asides and provides tone for the characters is outstanding. The English is very British and quite formal, but that doesn't bother me. Others on Twitter have abandoned the audiobook in favor of reading it in print though.
David Mitchell's writing is genius! I loved it so much that I purchased the Kindle edition so I could reread sections again as I went along. There is so much going on in this book. I'll definitely need to reread it in the future.
Jacob De Zoet you will forever have a place in my heart.
It's interesting to see a glimpse the end of two eras - the Japanese and the Dutch. The Japanese have tried their best to keep Europeans from impacting their culture. That's nearly impossible to do. The Dutch empire is also waning. Jacob De Zoet's time in Japan, where he was marooned in Japan for maintaining his integrity is symbolic of the end of Dutch imperialism.
Love, love, love how the story revealed the meaning of the novel's title. Perhaps most people already knew that, but I didn't. I don't want to spoil it here for those who are like me. It was a moment I'll never forget in the narrative.
I suppose that pretty much captures my thoughts and feelings about this wonderful novel. I hope you take the opportunity to explore it for yourself.
3 people found this helpful
=====
Mark Eremite
VINE VOICE
5.0 out of 5 stars A Novel Like Life: Tough, Complicated, Beautiful & Totally Worth It
Reviewed in the United States on August 15, 2012
Vine Customer Review of Free Product( What's this? )Verified Purchase
In 1799, at the Dejima harbor in Nagasaki, a red-haired clerk named Jacob de Zoet disembarks for a five-year stint at the famed port to the notoriously isolationist country. What follows is a sprawling, magnificent tale that deals with virtue, love, the darkest of the dark arts, and the fricative fire that ignites where cultures clash.
Reviewers who have disliked the novel often complain about a lack of a plot, but they must not know what "plot" means. Perhaps a better complaint would be an overabundance of plot. The novel is teeming not just with intersecting lives and conflicts, but also with characters, many of them from all four points of the globe. It is a bit of a struggle sometimes to keep up with the cast list, especially since it is so constantly changing. However, just like with every single one of Mitchell's books, the effort is well worth it. This stellar author manages to weave together the fates and actions of multiple characters in a stunning tapestry that reveals an artist's eye for historical detail and the subtlety needed to keep those details in the background.
The largest point of the novel -- the way humanity binds itself to itself, and how life rotates around and around -- is actually a theme common to Mitchell's books. In fact, ardent fans of the author will notice that -- as usual -- elements of this novel connect with those found in his past books. His five novels (so far) all merge together to form a larger meta-novel, a feat that is ambitious in its scope and breath-taking in its accomplishment. This latest novel -- with its own expansive feel and reach -- most neatly encapsulates the spirit behind all of Mitchell's work, which is the idea that we feed into and off of each other in ways that are barely recognizable but of paramount importance and power. "If only this world was a clean board of lines and intersections," one character thinks. "If only time was a sequence of considered moves and not a chaos of slippages and blunders."
A footnote to the novel explains Mitchell's take on the genre of historical fiction, which this only barely presupposes to be. Although the book deals with actual places and (some) actual events, they are obviously manipulated to further the writer's grander ends. The chaos of the book -- the lack of clean lines and intersections, the overwhelming glut of slippages and blunders -- may turn off some readers (as is evident by reviews on this site). I would argue that those readers are missing the point that Mitchell (or life, the author might say) insists on making over and over again. You may want to read a story that is clear cut, plot-forward, fun and clean, but Mitchell's stories are never ever that thing. His stories focus on the complex beauty of life and how it springs both forwards and back. Jacob and his life in Japan do not follow a single, simple train of thought -- the kind that informs so much bad fiction -- nor do any of Mitchell's books. For some, it may not be their cup of green tea. For me, however, it is -- again, like life -- endlessly fascinating and achingly beautiful and more than worth the energy required to fully appreciate it.
4 people found this helpful
===
Madiantin
4.0 out of 5 stars Excellent - with a couple of flies
Reviewed in the United States on March 23, 2016
Verified Purchase
I was about to expound the couple of flies - but then I realized I would have been writing massive spoilers. Curses. So no spoilers.
I loved the setting and the detail of the novel. I loved the realistic descriptions of illnesses and living conditions. The "black magic" bit was meh and was sort of - I can't describe it - it caused me to suspend disbelief and step outside the magic of the novel to say, "really?" It didn't make sense. It didn't break the spell as I was reading, but it severely weakened it. No no, what completely broke the spell was the last chapter. :(
I wanted there to be a happy ending but instead I got utter realism and that really ticks me off. I live realism, for goodness sakes, and while I require historical novels to be accurate, I also require the books I read to have some damn happiness in them even if that means stepping outside the realms of pure realism slightly. If Mr. Mitchell can bend enough to have a female Japanese midwife, he can absolutely bend enough to have a sodding happy ending. The whole, "the book writes itself and the author is just the scribe" thing doesn't work here. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet is clearly crafted. Mitchell is in control, here. And thus it was his decision to not write a happy ending and that is utterly irritating. Yes yes, the ....ugh, I was about to write a spoiler. Anyway, there is some satisfaction in the story, but many people suffer who do not deserve it. And yes, yes, that's life - but books are an escape, and I absolutely do not need to read realism reflected back at me.
Despite those flies, the book is exceptionally well written and is a fascinating insight into the world of Dejima. The book also unapologetically and starkly depicts the casual racism almost everyone engages in. Breathtakingly infuriating and unfair.
There is no explicit sex. Oh wait, there were one or two sentences that may be considered pretty raw, but not enough to stop one from reading the book if one is older than, say...14? 16?
There's some bad language, and while I'm pretty sensitive to that sort of stuff I was able to slide my eyes over it relatively easily. It wasn't anywhere near as foul as, say, "The Martian", "The Girl With All The Gifts", or "World War Z".
There is not really any gratuitous violence. There are, however, descriptions that sensitive people may find disturbing. What Enomoto was up to is particularly unpleasant. A description of the removal of a kidney stone may be a difficult read for the squeamish, as may be the first chapter, a detailed description of a very difficult birth.
I frankly found that first chapter fascinating. The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet is, I believe, the most expensive e-book I've ever bought. It was the first chapter I read in the sample that caused this frugal woman to plonk done the cash without blinking.
Highly recommended. Expect a breathtakingly well researched and written book, but no unadulterated joy.
5 people found this helpful
Helpful
Report
Spencer Wilkerson
4.0 out of 5 stars Not 'Cloud Atlas,' but still worth a read.
Reviewed in the United States on March 16, 2011
Verified Purchase
This is definitely not Mitchell's best work, let's just get that out of the way. It is riddled with uneven narrative, strange tangents, semi-ridiculous dialogue (which the author attempts, to his credit, to explain in the Afterword), and some painfully silly moments (a particular poem toward the end of the novel springs to mind). However, I still found it to be an engaging and an interesting read. For every time I groaned, there were three times were I found myself reflecting on how much I was enjoying the book and not wanting to put it down.
This is a historical novel, yes. And all the conceits and pitfalls that come with that genre are readily evident here. The more an author tries for verisimilitude, the more he fails, and that is true of this novel. He comes off sounding like a lesser James Clavell at some points. The Mitchell "voice" that gave his novels a particular feel (especially in 'Black Swan Green'), is absent here. However, glimpses of his other works can be seen in the poignant moments shared by the characters. Mitchell has a tendency in this book to go off on a tangent with different characters' backstories. The level of research he did for this book is extremely evident. While the diction of the characters can seem contrived, the comfort with which he discusses events and places of the era, especially in the way the characters speak to each other, really highlights the effort he put into this book.
The thing I found most annoying is that the "horrifying secret" of the Mt. Shiranui Shrine wasn't as exciting as it could've been. I was expecting a little more adventure than I got. That entire narrative is somewhat disappointing, as is its resolution at the end of the novel. I felt more could've been done there. It felt like he just wanted to wrap up that particular storyline, and I was not satisfied.
He redeems himself in the final conflict of the book, when he brings in the English. I found that to be a particularly enjoyable read, enough so to make me forget about the disappointing earlier section. The coda of the work I found to be bittersweet and emotional, but I can be a sucker for that kind of thing.
Overall, if you are looking for the next David Mitchell novel in the vein of his other works, this really isn't it. He set out to write a very traditional novel, and he succeeded. This is popular historical fiction about an interesting time and place. It is a fun, easy read, and it doesn't ask too much of the reader. The historical details are really interesting, and I feel that he captured the European vs. Japanese struggle fairly well. Enjoy!
3 people found this helpful
=====
Joan C. Curtis
5.0 out of 5 stars A Must-Read
Reviewed in the United States on January 18, 2012
Verified Purchase
What books qualify for must-reads? I prefer books with a compelling story and excellent writing. Sometimes I'll read books that lack one of these two qualities, but to make it to my must-read list, I require both.
David Mitchell's The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet is a definite must-read. What a title! Upon reading it, you might turn away and select something else, but if you do, you've missed a wonderfully written story.
Mitchell begins the book in 1799 on a small island outside of Japan, Dijima. This island is the only place where the then extremely isolated Japanese allowed trading with the outside world (the Dutch in particular). Our main character, Jacob de Zoet, arrived from a small town in Holland to make his fortune and a name for himself so he could marry his sweetheart.
Many things conspire against our hero. First, he takes a huge risk when he decides to smuggle in a Psalter (a Christian book). The Japanese forbade any Christian relics, particularly books, crucifixes, rituals, etc. They were not interested in being overrun by missionaries or other outsiders trying to upturn their own beliefs. If Jacob were found with this offending item, he could have been tossed in the brink.
Jacob kept the book because it belonged to his great grandfather. It was something he didn't think he could live without. At this stage of the book, we've learned two things about our character: risk-taker and strong beliefs. Fortunately for him, he made friends with the chief translator who ignored the book in exchange for lessons on the Dutch language.
Mitchell develops the story around fascinating characters, including an interesting young Japanese woman who excelled as a midwife. The story reveals much about the Japanese culture during this early part of the 19th Century. It also reveals much about the Dutch merchants.
If you want to read a compelling story with characters whom you'll warm to and with a bit of history about a part of the world most people have never heard of, this book is a must-read.
Furthermore, Mitchell writes with the skill of a master. The language in the dialogue is superb and matches the language of the time. He juggles three languages--Japanese or Dutch or English--without imposing uncomfortable dialects.
The plot moves fast and just when you think everything will work out, boom, something else happens. My only complaint was with the ending. Not in the form of an epilogue, it was written as such. Yes, we readers want to know what happened to everyone. Instead of carrying us through the saga Mitchell tells as might a news reporter. My guess is he grew tired of the story. As a reader, I wasn't tired and would have loved to have "seen" more.
Nonetheless, you'll finish The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet wishing for more and sorry to turn the last page of a wonderful book. . .
One person found this helpful
Helpful
Report
zashibis
3.0 out of 5 stars not Mitchell's best
Reviewed in the United States on September 8, 2010
Verified Purchase
I'm left with mixed feelings. I devoured it eagerly, mostly enjoyed it as I was reading it, but was ultimately left with a sour taste in my mouth, as with a cream puff that, although very pretty to look at, had passed its pull-date.
The novel is structured around two real events: the collapse of the Dutch East India company in 1800, and the "Nagasaki Harbor Incident" of 1808, in which the HMS Phaeton, an English frigate, intruded into the harbor with the intention of plundering the Dutch ships they expected to find there. Mitchell has both events happen the same year, and lightly disguises the HMS Phaeton as the HMS Phoebus, but in general hews reasonably close to the events that transpired, providing a realistic framework for the novel.
And what does this "realistic framework" contain? In a typically Mitchell-esque fashion, it frames a deliberately unrealistic Gothic melodrama about evil Japanese monks who keep deformed women as brood mares, and a brave but inexperienced samurai who attempts to rescue the woman he loves from them. Readers of Cloud Atlas: A Novel and Ghostwritten won't be surprised by this abrupt shift of genre from realism to romanticism (and back again, through several iterations) but what served Cloud Atlas so well here feels contrived, muddled -- too realistic for "magical realism" -- there is a very careful attention to period detail throughout -- but too fantastical and haphazard for "historical fiction."
Beyond this, there were a number of plot and character elements of the novel that were distracting. Many of the minor characters have been given elaborate back-stories, which tend to be revealed in ways that awkwardly interrupt the flow of the narrative. For instance, Van Cleef chooses a post-coital morning stretch on the roof of a brothel to tell the novel's hero, Jacob de Zoet, his entire life story. In a similar vein both Jacob and the novel's heroine, Aibagawa Orito, are noble, brave and self-sacrificing well beyond the point of implausibility. (I found the climactic scene between Jacob and Penhaligon unintentionally ridiculous.) Mitchell eschews the most obvious kinds of sentimentality -- the ending of the novel resonates powerfully in its emotional honesty -- but indulges in smaller instances throughout that jar. Would a samurai really feel any remorse about the loss of a life? Would an uptight, religious Dutch clerk really fall head over heels in love with a scarred women he'd hardly spoken to?
Too, for the first time, Mitchell's stylistic quirks began to get on my nerves. As always, I found a great deal to admire in his style -- he brings 18th-century Nagasaki very vividly to life -- but certain Mitchellisms began to seem too predictable, mannered: his use of nouns as verbs; his choppy back-and-forthing between interior monologue and public utterance (as during the sermon on the frigate); his non-sequiturs for poetic effect (e.g. "This Nagasaki," notes Wren, "is an anchorage the equal of Port Mahon.." In clear water, a shoal of silver fish changes direction. "...a few modern placements would make it impregnable"). What seemed effortless panache in Cloud Atlas and Black Swan Green: A Novel here comes across as effortful.
Enough griping. As I said at the outset, I enjoyed the novel despite its flaws, but I hope next time out Mitchell delivers a more consistent effort.
15 people found this helpful
Helpful
Report
====
Profile Image for Stephen King.
Stephen King
Author
2,538 books
833k followers
Follow
Read
February 1, 2014
In this historical novel, an unassuming Dutch bookkeeper named Jacob de Zoet falls in love with a beautiful midwife in 18th-century Japan. When Miss Aiba-gawa is spirited away to a mountain monastery, Jacob finds the heroism in his soul. Here is a bygone secret world full of charm and horror. Mitchell is best known for Cloud Atlas, which was a literary stunt in this correspondent’s opinion. The Thousand Autumns is far better.
491 likes
====
Ken
Author
3 books
993 followers
Follow
September 23, 2021
Remember Dr. Seuss's words, children: "Oh, the Places You'll Go!" In the case of wunderkind writer David Mitchell's THE THOUSAND AUTUMNS OF JACOB DE ZOET, you'll set your time machine dial for 1799 and a makeshift Dutch port called Dejima on the shores of Nagasaki, Japan.
But let's take it down another level. You'll start at the port and live with old salts that'll make the Pirates of the Caribbean look like so many Lord Fauntleroys. You'll visit the homes of the secretive Japanese magistrates. You'll do some time in Dr. Marinus's "academy," witnessing some bone-chilling turn of THAT century operations (removal of a kidney stone, for instance, in full metal graphics). You'll go up into the mountains past Nagasaki, up to a castle where Japanese women are held in captivity but told they are "nuns" worshiping an obscure goddess. Over the river and through the woods you'll go in an exciting mission with samurais bent on rescuing one very special captive in this castle. And you'll even hit the low seas (off Dejima) and join British Captain Penhaligon as he wrestles with his conscience and his wits, trying to decide whether to attack the Dutch and Japanese or negotiate with them. Nautical chess games, anyone?
David Mitchell can flat-out write. Among contemporary writers, he reigns supreme (I would say in my book, but in HIS books, actually) for his ability to turn poetry into words and to make images dance in startling ways. This is a writer's writer with imagination and skill. And what's best is how he's constantly challenging himself as well. Here we have historical fiction in one of the most unusual of settings, yet you'll feel you're there and that you actually have an understanding of the mysterious land of the shoguns as well as the nefarious intrigues of the European traders. As you'd expect from Mitchell, the allusions are rich and varied, too. Through characters such as Dr. Marinus, the surgeon/musician/man of science as well as the arts with the Dutch, you'll hear references to the Greeks, the Romans, the ancient Arabs, the Bible, mythology, philosophers, scientists, and whatnot. An irascible and complex man, Marinus was one of my favorites, though his role was rather minor.
Bigger roles go, of course, to Jacob and the disfigured Japanese midwife he falls in love with, Orito Aibagawa. Jacob De Zoet, a practical and religious man, is honest to a fault. Among the Dutch lowlifes, he is both gasoline and match, in other words, and his zealous opposition to embezzling and skimming profits and black marketing make him many enemies. Orito has her own problems. A student of Dr. Marinus's, she attracts unwanted attention from the Japanese nobles (some "noble" and others vicious) when she dallies with the pale-skinned, auburn-haired Jacob. When she disappears, the novel takes off to some of the more exotic locales mentioned early in this review.
Some readers may struggle with the number of Japanese names and characters, especially at the "nunnery," but Mitchell at least is studious in his characterization and the special quirks he bestows to his creations. At times Mitchell can overwrite, too, when he should move on, but those instances are neither frequent nor extended. The book's best scenes come at the end when the added dimension of a British frigate is provided. The match of wits between Capt. Penhaligon and De Zoet when Dejima is bottled up by the man-of-war is a joy to read. Mitchell is at his best when dealing with the psychological and the power of decisions made in moments of crisis to alter history.
If you've had your fill of beach reads this summer, THE THOUSAND AUTUMNS OF JACOB DE ZOET is your antidote. It's serious contemporary literature by one of our more gifted scribes. It's a grown-up's book that contains not only incredible description but a sound plot. And no, it won't baby you with constant, hold-on-to-your-seat action, but you can handle that and you can appreciate a novel for its construction and its grander designs as well, right?
So why not give it a places-you'll-go?
contemporary
finished-in-2010
240 likes
Like
Comment
Profile Image for Ken-ichi.
Ken-ichi
599 reviews
565 followers
Follow
June 2, 2010
I've spent a week reading this very fine novel and a weekend attempting to unpack it, and I have little doubt I'll spend a good few years thinking about it from time to time. If one measure of a novel is its ability to simultaneously inspire and confound engagement, then Mitchell has once again turned it up to 11.
Most of the reviews I've been reading have remarked that this is Mitchell's most formally conventional novel (linear, third-person narrative), and that his often scintillating prose has been burnished to a more muted lustre, and for the most part these are accurate. There's less showmanship here, without any reduction in finesse. But in all Mitchell's novels, messages hide within the virtuosity, and this book's lack of embellishment brings them a little closer to the surface. We are tantalized with recurrent themes, unexplained symbols, ties between distant story lines (indeed, between entire novels!), and I've been having a hell of a time trying to reconstruct it all into some kind of meaning.
The reviews that have helped bring some coherence to my thoughts, though, are those by the Irish Times and the Times of London, both of which point out the importance of bridging divides between people, cultures, worlds. Dejima is a bridge between Europe and Japan. Its denizens are interpreters, tradesmen, and scientists, all disciplines that form bridges between people (language, goods, knowledge). Characters constantly bridge the gap between each other and between them and the reader by recounting their backstories in Scooby-Doo-esque wavy-screened flashbacks. Jacob and Uzaemon are united by books, and later by Orito. Jacob and Orito by love, letters, and language. Marinus and his Japanese colleagues by medicine and botany.
Dejima, like other frontiers, is also a crucible for morality, and we are constantly reminded of what can befall those who fail to bridge divides and continue to see other people and cultures as entirely alien. Corruption is rampant, as well as infidelity. The Dutch and the Japanese habitually try to cheat each other, just as they play and betray their own countrymen. Slavery and subjugation are implicitly and explicitly addressed again and again (like in Cloud Atlas).
It was interesting to me that there were very clear-cut Good Guys and Bad Guys. The Good Guys (de Zoet, Orito, Marinus, Uzaemon) are all truth-seekers of sorts. Jacob crunches numbers and uncovers corruption. Orito and Marinus are scientists. Uzaemon studies the true meaning of words. They all also have internal, non-relativistic moral codes that burn just as brightly on foreign soil as at home, and allow them to recognize kindred fires abroad. Jacob standing on the watch tower, or Marinus decrying the beating of a slave. Orito choosing to save others despite her imprisonment, and Uzaemon abandoning his steady, obedient life to destroy the temple.
The Bad Guys (Enomoto, Vorstenbosch, Capt. Lacy, Fischer) are universally self-interested, and view others as stepping stones, chattel, or even food. Enomoto is a bit of a mystery to me, though. He's a mustache-twirling, finger-tenting immortal super villain who has magic powers and eats babies. In a thoroughly researched, realistic historical novel, he kind of stands out. I suspect that aside from entertainment, his presence and exit are actually meant to demonstrate what evil is *not*. He's the only bad guy who gets his comeuppance, as if the only evils that can be truly vanquished are the imaginary ones. As Grote says, "'Tain't good intentions what paves the road to hell: it's self-justifyin's" (p. 104), and as Enomoto himself says, "Evil, evil evil. You always wield that word as if it were a sword and not a vapid conceit" (p. 309). Evil is not discrete or separate, nor can it be nicely excised. All the more human transgressors survive, even prosper.
Anyway, those are the things that seem to make sense to me about this novel.
Here are a few things that don't:
What the hell was up with the constant interruption of quotes?! For example:
'Chief van Cleef,' Fischer calls after him, 'and I shall discuss your insolence!'
'It's a long way,' Ivo Oost smokes in a doorway, 'down to the bottom...'
'It is my signature,' Fischer shouts after him, 'that authorizes your wages!' (p. 166)
The majority of quotes are written this way. In an unknown author, I might attribute this to a weird lexical tick, but Mitchell is a careful, meticulous writer capable of adopting many different voices and styles, so I think this has to be intentional. But what does it mean? I'm guessing the form has some relation to Japanese literature or poetry, but I don't know enough to make a connection.
Mitchell also repeatedly employs this weird interleaving of interior and exterior monologue. An example from the Phoebus, as Cpt. Penhaligon listens to a sermon:
'"And when neither sun nor stars in many days appeared..."'
The common run of chaplains is either too meek for so unruly a flock...
'"...and no small tempest lay on us, all hope that we should be saved..."'
...or else, so zealous that the sailors ignore, scorn or vilify them.
'"...was then taken away. But after long abstinence Paul stood forth...'"
Chaplain Wily, an oysterman's son from Whistable, is a welcome exception.
(p. 328)
These passages are almost unreadable. Perhaps they are there both to contrast truth as thought and truth as communicated (the bridge), and to demonstrate how utterly discordant the two can be.
Animals: a moth witnesses birth at the start, and a butterfly witnesses death at the finish. Orito speaks to cats and rats in moments of drug-induced madness, and William Pitt the monkey bears witness to the tribulations on Dejima. Nature does not play an overt role in this book (or in any Mitchell novel?), but natural elements seem be deliberately included. Simply mneomnic rigging, or is there more explicit allegory at play?
And finally, my notes.
puerperal (adj): adj form of puerpera, a woman who has just given birth. (p. 8)
yakumoso (n): a bit of searching of suggests this is some member of the genus Leonurus, maybe Leonurus japonicus . Apparently it's commonly used in Asian folk medicine, just as the related motherwort is used in European folk medicine. As with so many folk remedies, it seems to treat just about everything, though there apparently are some papers about antimicrobial properties.
farrago (n): hodgepodge, mixture. (p. 11)
carrack (n): a kind of merchant ship. (p. 15)
"The pain is prismatic." (p. 45) I kind of hate it when authors employ literally floral language when describing pain (delicate pain, pain blossoming, etc). I like "prismatic."
provedore (n): a purveyor or provider? How do they relate to stevedores? Prove gives the hard tack to Steve and Steve loads it onto the boat? Why isn't anyone named "Prove"? Why?! (p. 56)
"Deflate your testicles comme à la mode: via the village pimp or Sin of Onan." (p. 58). Sadly, it doesn't take much to make me laugh. As usual, though, the Bible is funnier: "And the thing which he did displeased the LORD: wherefore he slew him also" (Genesis 38:10). Old Testament God held no truck with half-assed punishment like mere blindness!
glister (n): alternate spelling of "clyster," which is an archaic term for an enema (had to rely on Wikipedia for the alternate orthography, but "clyster" is in my abbreviated OED). This scene is both horrid and hilarious. I love Dr. Marinus. (p. 66)
dithyrambic (adj): a dithyramb was a form a Greek song and dance involving a large group of men and boys dancing in a circle. Apparently it had a unique meter, but not sure what it was. (p. 69)
chandler (n): candle-maker. (p. 100)
splenetic (adj): pertaining to the spleen, irritable. (p. 109)
langer (n): apparently an all-purpose disparagement in County Cork, Ireland. Wikipedia and this page have interesting perspectives on the history of the word (as does this performance of The Langer Song!). If the east Indian simian etymology is correct, though, Con Twomey would have been a bit ahead of his time in speaking it, despite being a Corkman. (p. 111)
bourse (n): an exchange or market. (p. 114)
monorchid (n): a man with only one testicle. Let me take a moment to assure you that that the somewhat juvenile selection of words here reflects the rather puerile condition of my own predilections and not the overall tenor of the novel. The word "orchid" apparently derives from the Greek word órkhis, meaning "testicle." I always chuckled when I read about the "scrotum-like" flowers of the Pink lady's slipper (Cypripedium acaule). Now I realize I should have been chuckling a lot more! (p. 118)
"Act, implores the Ghost of Future Regret. I shan't give you another chance." (p. 123)
manumission (n): manumit means "to free from slavery" (the etymology seems to be something like "emit from one's hand"). This passage sets off a debate about slavery. (p. 129)
"'So it is the sulphur of Jean Calvin,' says the Irishman, in English, 'making war on my nostrils.'" Jean Calvin as in the eponymous progenitor of Calvinist Christian doctrine, to which the Dutch de Zoet would probably subscribe. That went right over my head. (p. 151)
moxibustion (n): a form of East-Asian medicine involving mugwort, which is apparently dried and burned, or actually burned into the skin. (p. 174)
Maria and Iesu-sama: I had no idea there were all these Christians in Japan! Spanish and Portuguese Jesuits brought Christianity to Japan in the 16th century and apparently it was so popular the Shogunate saw it as the preliminary incursion of European imperialism, and made moves to snuff it (including killing lots of people and instituting the ritual of fumi-e), resulting in Japan's legendary seclusionist policy that lasted until the Perry Expedition in the 19th century. I know so, so little about history. Sigh. (p. 178)
febrifuge (n): drug to reduce fever, also known as an antipyretic. (p. 193)
Van Diemen's Land (pn): another name for Tasmania. The indigenous Palawa went extinct after encountering Europeans. (p. 199)
"Men of commerce, sir [...:] for the most part, had their consciences cut out at birth. Better an honest drowning than slow death by hypocrisy, law or debt." Ah, a man after my own heart (p. 332)
"Ibani qui poterant [...:] qui non potuere cadebant." I think there's a typo and it should be Ibant qui poterant, qui non potuere cadebant, which means "Those who could have gone, those who could not have fallen," which seems appropriate. I guess Marinus is referring to this pastel by Dutch painter Cornelis Troost, but the painting seems to depict drunken party-goers trying to head home. A joke, I guess. Where in Hell does Mitchell get this stuff. (p. 366)
podagra (n): synonym for gout (p. 375)
bagnio (n): literally a bath house, though in this sense probably whore house. (p. 381)
ingravescent (adj): gradually worsening. I like how even the Cpt. objects to the arcane language. Not that I'm objecting. I'm doing the opposite. (p. 407)
"Reverse our reverses" Penhaligon, Shiroyama, and Marinus all employ this phrase. To what end, Mitchell?! (p. 429)
Regarding the V-sign and the Battle of Agincourt: as I dimly recalled while reading this passage, the French supposedly threatened to cut off the first two fingers of English longbowmen, and the English thus used those same fingers to taunt the vanquished French. However, Wikipedia claims the story is apocryphal, and that the gesture's first recorded use dates to the early 20th century. (p. 430)
Quid non mortalia pectora cogis, Auri sacra fames. Apparently from The Aeneid, this translation has it as, "Cursed lust of gold, to what dost thou not force the heart of man?" (p. 431)
japan
snoot
189 likes
Like
Comment
Profile Image for Cecily.
Cecily
1,155 reviews
4,266 followers
Follow
November 2, 2015
A shooting star lives and dies in an instant.
I first read this when it was published in paperback, just because it was by Mitchell. I admired the craft of the writing, but overall, I did not enjoy it as much as I hoped: I’m not a huge fan of historical fiction, and this seemed a very straightforward narrative in comparison with three of his four preceding books.
Now in 2014, after reading The Bone Clocks, I discover that is the second in the Marinus trilogy and this was the first. Almost immediately, I returned to this, and oh how utterly different and more complex it turns out to be. So much was hiding in plain sight. This book really demonstrates the enormous canvass of the uber-book that Mitchell is planning years ahead, over many volumes, some more closely connected than others.
An autumn breeze drags its invisible robes around the fine room.
Note: It’s hard to manage all my interconnected reviews of Mitchell’s books, but they are all here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list...
What sort of novel is this?
This is a single, largely chronological, story, told in three main sections.
A gibbous moon is grubby. Stars are bubbles trapped in ice.
It is a work of exhaustively researched historical fiction, set in the Dutch concession of Dejima in Japan (a closed, artificial island, within a nation of islands closed to the world), at the crossover of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. Dejima was Japan’s only window on the rest of the world and Europe’s only window on Japan. Windows are a leitmotif throughout, and Land of A Thousand Autumns is one of the names Japan was known by.
It’s also very much the story of two men who love the same, apparently unattainable, woman.
Dawn breathes muddy greens and ember reds through grey woods.
There’s an escape attempt, a rescue mission, secret messages, and a battle, but still pretty conventional.
More quirkily, there is a constant smattering of exquisite once-sentence images, almost like haiku. (I’ve sprinkled some in this review, as you’ve probably noticed.)
Marigolds in the vase are the precise shade of summer, remembered.
There are useful historical notes and a list of characters at the back.
But it is also a book with a hidden understory: the cover, foreword and afterword do not even hint at any of the… less factual aspects that link it to The Bone Clocks. So it is two books in one – depending whether you know more about Marinus when you read this.
Wisteria in bloom foams over a crumbling wall.
Whereas The Bone Clocks overtly pre-empts possible criticism and highlights deus ex machina moments, this is subtler, except once: “You’d think these coincidences’d not happen, not off the stage, not in life”, but there aren’t that many of them here.
Plot
The notes of luminous sonatas hang like grapes from the stave.
On a first reading, the plot was at the forefront; rereading after The Bone Clocks, the plot is more of a framework for the ideas within. Nevertheless:
It opens with a life and death scene: the delivery of the local Magistrate’s son. However, most of the first section covers the arrival of young, shrewd, clever, honourable clerk, Jacob de Zoet, whose father and uncle were pastors. He is to investigate anomalies in the company accounts.
A doe cries for her yearling, slaughtered.
We glimpse this beguiling and unfamiliar world, with its complex language (foreigners weren’t allowed to learn it) and rigid ritual, through his eyes. There’s plenty of wheeling and dealing and politics, within the Dutch community and between them and the Japanese – above and below board in both cases. Business isn’t what it was, which increases tension and the Dutch desire for more copper. In addition, Jacob falls for a Japanese midwife, Orito, who has a burn scar on her face and is a student of Dutch doctor Marinus.
The second section concerns a secretive and increasingly sinister mountain shrine, run by the powerful Abbot Enomoto, purportedly to bring fertility to the surrounding area. Monks and nuns are kept apart, mostly, and a new nun is sent, effectively sold by her step-mother to cover her dead father’s debts. This section relates most closely to The Bone Clocks, but also has echoes of The Handmaid’s Tale, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... and Brave New World, https://www.goodreads.com/review/show....
Glass panes melt the moonlight; paper panes filer it, to chalk dust.
The third section has a single British warship, to “plunder the Dutch and seduce the Japanese" now that the Dutch parent company is bankrupt. Lots of twists (it’s hard to know who is on which side and what their intentions really are), compounded by a captain troubled by gout and, especially, side-effects of its treatment.
There are two short sections at the end, each set a few years later, tidying up Jacob’s life story. He achieves a degree of immortality though being painted; The artist “wondered at his air of melancholy distance, but exorcised the ghost of absence from the finished painting.”
Crows smear rumours across the melted, sticky sky.
Themes
All Mitchell’s favourite themes are covered with a light touch: slavery and other abuses of power are at the core, but also islands and rescue; souls, life, death, mortality and immortality; music (Marinus is a skilful pianist); bridges from one place or state to another, going full circle.
This last is illustrated when Jacob encourages a ladybird to pass from one hand to the other and back again, “The ladybird believes… she is on a momentous journey, but she is going nowhere.”
The first is addressed by Marinus, speaking out against slavery, "In the animal kingdom... the vanquished are eaten", which echoes a more chilling line in Cloud Atlas, “‘The weak are meat, the strong do eat.’… One fine day, a purely predatory world SHALL consume itself.” Others see the world differently, “Power is a man’s means… of composing the future.”
Fallen red leaves drift over a smeared sun held in dark water.
There is also a wonderful passage where a slave ponders the meaning of his state: “Slaves do not own. Slaves are owned.” This includes a spoon carved from a bone, for himself. “He fathered his children, yes. But to his master they are not ‘his’… My true name, my memories are things I own.” Later, “The word ‘my’ brings pleasure. The word ‘my’ brings pain.”
Connections with other Mitchell works
• Marinus is a significant character in this, and in The Bone Clocks. With echoes of all the comets in Cloud Atlas, he is described as entering “like a limping, grey-haired comet”. A shooting star is also mentioned as a throwaway line (listed in Quotes).
• There is passing mention of a “beautiful sunken garden”, tying in with the opera, The Sunken Garden, for which Mitchell wrote the libretto.
• The captain of the British ship, Phoebus, is Penhaligon, presumably an ancestor of Jonny Penhaligon in The Bone Clocks.
• Con Twomey reveals his real name is Fiacre Muntervary, presumably an ancestor of Mo Muntervary in Ghostwritten, Number9dream and The Bone Clocks.
• Arie Grote is pally with Jacob, and in The Bone Clocks, Marinus remembers him fondly.
A feathery fish hovers in the current; a bright berry floats by.
Secrets in plain sight
There are many comments from two characters in the book that are taken as metaphors or hyperbole by those they’re speaking to and by many readers. However, in Mitchell’s world, they are true.
Arising from The Bone Clocks: There are two definite atemporals: Marinus is a benevolent and musical medic who has lived through many lives, without desire or control on his part, whereas Abbot Enomoto is a power-hungry would-be immortal, actively seeking the lives of infants to defer death. However, in Orito’s eyes, Marinus achieves immortality in a more conventional way, as “a great teacher” who attains it in his students.
Lethargic waves die on the other side of the Sea Wall.
• Marinus says that his “sentence in this lifetime” only began when he recovered from a fever aged six. Horologists typically find themselves in a new body of a child around that age.
• Marinus says “my heart is the East’s, in this lifetime.” When Joseph asks if he’s afraid to die so far from home, he replies, “One has to die somewhere”.
• More explicitly, Marinus says “I am indestructible… I’ll wake up tomorrow – after a few months – and start all over again.” When he’s actually dying, he “joked that he was a grass-snake, shedding one skin.”
• Marinus is an awed champion of scientific progress and suggests he’ll be around to see what happens in the next hundred years.
• Marinus says he was taught something “by an unschooled old woman, many lifetimes ago”.
• An African slave also realises what Marinus is, “His skin is a White man’s, but through his eyes you can see his soul is not a White man’s soul. His soul is much older… A kwaio is an ancestor who does not stay on the island of ancestors. A kwaio returns and returns and returns, each time in a new child.”
• Abbot Enomoto tells Jacob he used to speak Spanish, though Jacob points out it’s two hundred years since the Spanish were in Japan.
• When Orito sees Enomoto after a gap of a few months, he “looked a full decade younger than she remembers.”
• Rather like a James Bond baddie, Enomoto fills in rather too many gaps when he has a knowing captive, ”I am more than six hundred years old. You shall die, in minutes”, and “Down the ages many hundreds… have all vowed to drag me down to Hell. Yet, as you see, I am still here.”
• Enomoto says “Mount Shiranui rejuvenates me” (it’s where the shrine is) and even “I cannot die”.
On a round rock, an immobile heron waits for fish.
Language, translation and stories
“A joke is a secret language… inside words.”
A gardener rakes the white stones by the bronze pond.
The problematic politics of trading is compounded by complex Japanese etiquette and ritual, but also the difficulties of translation, as is cleverly demonstrated. “Interpreters often have to provide both the answer and the tools to understand it”, but even so, there are words in Dutch and Japanese that have no easy translation into the other, giving scope for misunderstanding, whether accidental, or, sometimes, deliberate, and even then it may be for politeness, to deceive, or to insult.
All literature involves translation to some extent: from author’s mind to reader’s interpretation. That is even more so with a book like this, where little can be taken at face value.
Dark clouds clot and the dusk is silted with insects and bats.
Mitchell writes beautiful lines, but he is fundamentally a storyteller, and we all need stories: “It is stories… that make life… tolerable”, which prompts Orito to picture “the human mind as a loom that weaves disparate threads of belief, memory and narrative into an entity shoes common name is Self.” Myth matters, too, but “The truth of a myth… is not its words but its patterns.”
Spirituality, especially persimmons
This is not my domain, and others have covered it far better than I can. In particular, Calico: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
The darkness opposite stirs and quickens into the form of a cat.
Nevertheless, it’s plain that Mitchell continues his interest in Eastern beliefs, without ever preaching, although Marinus explicitly discusses migration of souls and karma with Jacob. The persimmon is more dominant in this book.
The cover of my copy has a Japanese woman holding out a persimmon, and in the book Orito gives one to Jacob, which he finds very sensual and she later dreams about. One of the Hidden Christians has a muddled theology that includes “Adam and Ewa who stole… [the] sacred persimmon”. And one of the haiku-like lines features one (and it’s actually 5-7-5), “A tiny girl skips like a skinny frog around a persimmon tree”.
The persimmon has so many echoes of other fruit: the apple in Eden (and also The Bone Clocks) and Persephone being trapped in the underworld because she ate some pomegranate seeds, to name but two.
Gulls wheel through spokes of sunlight over gracious roofs and dowdy thatch.
Then there’s Orito, the midwife: bringing new life into the world, but also wielding the power of death by some of the choices she makes.
Quotes
• “Ink… you most fecund of liquids.”
• “An ink brush… is a skeleton key for a prisoner’s mind.”
• “Nagasaki itself… looks oozed from between the verdant mountains’ splayed toes.”
• “The oarsmen propelled… by ‘sweeping’ their oars in the manner of a water-snake, in time to a breathy shanty.”
• “Arie Grote had a grin full of holes and a hat made of shark-hide.”
• “Immortality comes at a steep price.”
• “Power has an unpleasant taste.”
• “Dust thickens the air, corroding the sun.”
• In an earthquake, “Glass panes shatter into false diamonds, timber cracks like bones.”
• “Small fire-boats float on sea to guide souls home.” Jacob is stunned the Japanese “believe souls migrate in such a manner.”
• “A bat… chased by its own furry turbulence.”
• “The soul is a verb… not a noun.”
• “A reluctant window in the Deputy’s House is opened.”
• “The percussion of dripping water.”
• “The river below is a drunk, charging boulders and barging banks.”
• “Darkens uncoils and slides around the edges of Orito’s vision.”
• “Winter woods are creaking, knitted and knotted. Dead leaves lie in deep drifts. Needle-tips of birdsong stitch and thread the thicket’s many layers.”
• “The night sky is an indecipherable manuscript.”
• A “tray descending the ladder of servitude” to be refilled.
• “Sleep kisses his eyelids. The dreamlight is dappled.”
• “A house on the hill spews oily smoke in the wet and falling air.”
• “Insects encrust the cabin’s window, drawn by the bright lamp.”
• “A pigeon trills on the high window ledge.”
• “Creation’s light is pure on the papered window.”
• “A black dog wails on an outcrop.”
• “The moon-grey cat inspects the fish indifferently,”
• “The rain’s innumerable hoofs clatter on the streets and roofs.”
• “In the clear water a shoal of silver fish changes direction.”
• “Kawasemi’s kitten skitters after a dragonfly across the polished veranda.”
• “A maple leaf, fiery and fingered, is blown to the Magistrate’s side.”
• “A cockchaffer twitches its twin whiskers in the shadow of his inkwell.”
• “An invisible woodpecker works in short bursts on a nearby
• “Warblers call and query, higher up the hidden mountain."
Original Review from 2011
A good, and exhaustively researched historical novel, but I didn't enjoy it as much as Mitchell's previous books, despite a life-and-death opening. Indeed, life and death is a continuing theme, both of individuals (a major character is a midwife) and of culture and empire. I was expecting greater variety from Mitchell. It turns out my mistake was to view this as a standalone novel, when actually, it the precursor to The Bone Clocks (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... and https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...).
And Mitchell plans a trilogy (a slightly odd concept, given how connected all his novels are to each other).
PLOT
Jacob de Zoet is an ambitious and upstanding young clerk. In 1799, he arrives in Dejima, the Dutch concession in Japan, and the only port which traded with the rest of the world. He has five years to prove himself an acceptable son-in-law and is honourable, empathetic, clever and keen to learn. However, he has to negotiate the complexities of Japanese etiquette and Dutch-Japanese relations, as well as plots, embezzlement and love, whilst retaining his principles and furthering his ambitions. Mitchell's knowledge of and love for Japan shines through (he lived there for several years, and his wife is Japanese).
The sights, sounds, smells and whole atmosphere of Dejima are very vivid, but I found the much shorter passages set in a mountain shrine/convent more compelling plot-wise. However, that is more of a reflection of my tastes than Mitchell's writing.
LANGUAGE
I love the importance Mitchell attaches to language, both by demonstrating powerful imagery and more explicit praise of the power of the written word, such as "An ink-brush... is a skeleton key for a prisoner's mind". The book also explores issues of translation: the mischief to be had, along with the difficulties it can present.
SLAVERY
Another fascinating digression was a chapter as a first-person but unsentimental examination of the problems of being a slave (damned if you do and damned if you don't). He owns nothing except for his thoughts, and even then can cause problems. "The word 'my' brings pleasure. The word 'my' brings pain. These are true words for masters as well as slaves." This focus on power and exploitation is something that ties it to all Mitchell's other works.
FAVOURITE IMAGES
"A cacophony of frogs detonates."
"A hairy beggar kneeling over a puddle of vomit turns out to be a dog."
"The yeasty moon is caged in his half Japanese half Dutch window... glass panes melt the moonlight; paper panes filter it, to chalk dust."
"Light bleeds in around the casements: Jacob navigates the archipelago of stains across the low wooden ceiling."
Someone "savours his victory under an ill-fitting mask of empathy."
"An Oriental typhoon possesses a sentience and menace. Daylight is bruised."
"Birds are notched on the low sky. Autumn is aging."
"The weaverless loom of fortune" - is that godless predestination?
Someone's "face speaks of fatherlessness, name-calling and resilience".
"A face like his belongs on a cathedral gutter."
"The Oriental rain is fine as lace on the sailors' leathern faces."
LINKS WITH OTHER BOOKS
I have read all Mitchell's previous books and I thought this was the only one that does not have any explicit links to any of the others (beyond familiar themes of mortality, predacity, islands). The nearest I spotted was perhaps a nod at the title of his best-known work, "West to East, the sky unrolls and rolls its atlas of clouds" and the fact that Jacob is somewhat similar character to Adam Ewing in "Cloud Atlas" (http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/...).
However, in this interview about the book, Mitchell points out (1:30) "at least four" links to his other books, including that Adam Ewing's ship (from Cloud Atlas) is seen: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vNpwR...
Update: This is effectively a prequel to The Bone Clocks, in which Marinus is a major character, and Mitchell has said there will be a trilogy of Marinus books. There is another strong carry-over element from this to The Bone Clocks as well (the immortality-seeking cult). So Jacob is not as much of a straightforward historical novel as it initially seemed.
I've written two, very different reviews of The Bone Clocks. They're with all my Mitchell reviews, here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/list...
Japanese Creation Myth
Calico has written a fascinating review of Cloud Atlas that focuses on Japanese and western religious and philosophical aspects: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...
He also pointed me to a Wikipedia page on the subject that is especially pertinent to the early sections of this book: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japanese...
INTERVIEW WITH MITCHELL
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BOCTi...
(found by Ian, whose excellent review is here: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...)
aaabsolute-favourites
china-japan-asia
favourites
...more
179 likes
Like
Comment
Profile Image for Violet wells.
Violet wells
433 reviews
3,318 followers
Follow
February 5, 2019
It's been a while since I read and loved this the first time and in the interim Mitchell has written two books which have caused me to think less of him as a novelist - The Bone Clocks and Slade House, both of which for me had a kind of juvenile silliness running through them. Therefore I was a bit worried of spoiling my wonderful memory of this book. Didn't happen though. I loved it from start to finish. Usually my awful memory is a cause of frustration. Only perhaps when rereading novels does it become a blessing. This is very much an adventure story so prior knowledge of twists and outcomes would take away some of the pleasure.
Mitchell's ventriloquism is at the height of its ingenuity here. Language plays a big part in this novel. Mitchell is writing in English about people who are speaking both Dutch and Japanese. Translators abound. It's a kind of marvel how effortlessly he resolves the difficult problem of both dramatizing and fluidly smoothing out all the language barriers. Mitchell here is speaking up for the cross pollination of cultures, for universal inclusion rather exclusion, for the bringing down of state walls.
Hierarchies of power (bullying) are a constant Mitchell theme and feature heavily again here. We have two wholly autonomous characters, one representing good and the other evil; everyone else in the novel is a prisoner of some kind; sometimes of an ailing body, sometimes of a hopeless love and often of the master/servant social role prevalent at the time. The enclosed Dutch trading post on the Japanese coast is a prison of sorts as is the inland temple where the action sometimes takes place and as is the English ship that arrives to do battle with the Dutch enclave.
Super clever too how he often deploys haiku for ambient detail between lines of dialogue which, replacing long-winded background passages, keeps the pace of the novel urgent.
Another thing struck me and that's how rarely any author will take the side of a foreign power against his own country in a political dispute. When, in a fabulous scene, the Dutch and English stand off, each power represented by an individual, we (or me as a Brit) are very much sympathising with the foreigner. A nice knee in the groin to sweeping nationalist conceit.
While reading I began thinking there's something quietly revolutionary about how this novel (and Hilary Mantel's Cromwell novels) tackles historical fiction. I was recalling a couple of 20th century historical fiction novels I've recently read that were so weighted down with detailed research, with the strain of evoking authenticity, that they were like overloaded ships struggling to keep afloat. But I couldn't quite put my finger on what new quality this novel has. After all, there have been mischievous, free-flowing, almost cinematic forays into historical fiction by great authors of the past. One thinks of Tolstoy and Dickens, George Eliot and Virginia Woolf. So how to describe the exciting freshness and vitality of Mitchell's storytelling techniques? I'm not sure I can!
21st-century
contemporary-british-fiction
faves
162 likes
Like
Comment
Profile Image for Vit Babenco.
Vit Babenco
1,490 reviews
3,754 followers
Follow
September 16, 2021
The main hero is surrounded with perfidy on all sides - greedy and perfidious compatriots, secretive and treacherous natives, conniving and wily invaders.
We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love.
He is the only man brave enough to love but he is paid with hatred. But "hatred eats haters" so in the end the honesty and reason win.
The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet is like an incredible journey through time and space to the distant and enigmatic land.
159 likes
Like
Comment
No comments:
Post a Comment