I know the title of this entry sounds pretty pretentious, but that’s intentional. The seminal work of Natsume Soseki (who used to appear on the 1000 yen note until 2004), works on many levels as both an innovative literary device (the narrator is a cat), and as a societal critique of the Meiji period. After reading the novel, I was basically confronted with an idea that had been in the back of my mind for a while. Namely, the notion that I was an outsider, and because I did not understand enough of the Japanese culture to feel at home, I compensated by telling myself that I didn’t need to understand Japan.
Specifically, the period that I am referring to is quite familiar to people who have become Japanese residents, that grace period in which foreigners feel they are trailblazers and adventurers, cruising through a unfamiliar nation with only guts and a dictionary – the feeling sometimes called “my Japan syndrome.” Personally, I felt as though I had no worries, other than the student loan that was snapping at my wallet (thank goodness for wire-transfer services), and I felt that the other half of the world, and myself had been jarred open by the new sights and sounds of Japan.
Then, after a few months, after My Japan came and left, and after the homesickness set-in and wore itself down to a grumpy old man constantly criticizing everything around me, I saw Japan in a different way. Why was the TV making no sense, even as my language skills progressed? Why did the food all taste like miso and mirin? Why did the people at every store, be it Mr. Donuts or a ramen shop or a video rental shop have the same routine questions and lightning-quick procedures to rush me out of the way for the next person in line (albeit with a strange smile that never felt like it was directed at me, just hung there on the clerk’s face below his or her hairnet)?
I began to feel critical toward Japan, and more and more patriotic about the silliest things from back home. For example, why the Mos Burger around the corner at could never stand up to the Harvey’s at the corner back home, or how SMAP was funny but their singing drove my ears inside out. I could have been more concerned with larger, more significant things, but being an immigrant, you question the subtle things about daily life which the native population does not understand. Corruption in Japanese politics, and the roots of western mimicry in Meiji Era Japan, these things took a backseat to why the silliest celebrities and the worst jokes received the most airplay.
Then, after a few more months of feeling like an outsider, I started to look at the world as an outsider. I didn’t feel connected, more like an observer, and that’s luckily when I picked up I Am a Cat. The protagonist, who is as I’ve mentioned an actual feline, sees the world of the Meiji Restoration as an outsider as well. Western culture has come to grip Japan and is testing the boundaries of the Japanese mentality – Who is the modern Japanese man or woman? The fragility of the human ego (arrogance, not Freudian specifically), the humdrum of middle-class Japanese life set against this tumultuous period of re-thinking societal mores, and the simulation of western society by Japan are all condescendingly mocked and disregarded by the nameless cat. He spends a good two years documenting and ridiculing (despite his apparent lack of interest in) the human world, and at the end of the two years…
He drowns unceremoniously after getting drunk and falling in a water barrel.
I think that comparing a drifting foreigner to the cat has a certain irony to it, especially considering the cat’s predicament with alcohol near the end. I still believe cheap booze is far too cheap here, and it is not a good idea for a 20-year old English teacher out of ESL teacher’s college to have access to his first bottle of 2000 yen sake before he can drink in his native country. I also believe far too many foreigners try to drown the confusing aspects of Japanese life in booze, foreign friends instead of meeting friendly Japanese people willing to exchange cultures, and general feelings of malcontent. Perhaps, if they are like I was, they think if they aren’t seeing efforts to assist them in their understanding of the culture, that gives them an excuse not to try. But, we are foreigners, and Japanese people have lives that don’t revolve around us. They are progressing, and we are observing.
It is up to us, as people who can make decisions and act when we need to, to take efforts to avoid falling into barrels of sake and homesickness. I would not recommend reading I am a Cat to anyone suffering from severe homesickness, or anyone who doesn’t have a sense of humor. But, if you are just past the severe homesickness (you’ll be fine, trust me!) and past the My Japan stage, this is a novel you should pick up and think about as you read it.
I am a Cat is available in its most recent edition, printed in 2002, from Tuttle Publishing, at most major bookstores and from Amazon Japan.
