Gail Tsukiyama’s The Samurai’s Garden is a novel about twenty-year-old Stephen, a Chinese young man suffering from tuberculosis. In 1937, he is sent to his family’s summer house in Tarumi, Japan: a peaceful seaside sanctuary and a literal breath of fresh air compared to Hong Kong’s bustle and pollution, in the hopes that the sea air will do him good. While at the summer house, Stephen is able to soothe his loneliness and unrest through the people he meets and the tranquility of the family servant's garden. He in turn is able to heal those around him and create friendships with the Japanese people despite the Chinese-Japanese war raging about him.
I closed the book with a very different understanding than this summary suggests. There are quite a few things to discuss regarding what this novel tries to do, but I want to take a look at the form first. in order to have a firm understanding of any story, it is crucial to understand why the book was written in the way it was written.
FORM
The book is written in journal entries, complete with dates and entry breaks. One might expect that this would allow us a closer look at Stephen(our narrator), and as a result that his personal development would be very important to the novel. I thought so too.
Instead, I would like to present a term I’m calling Atmospheric Writing. My own definition is that its purpose is to create an environment to draw the reader in. I do not mean emotionally, but in the sense that they can feel the trees around them and smell the roses, etc. I think this way of writing is often intertwined with various others in most novels to create a setting that is imaginable and in which a writer can place their story and characters.
In this novel, however, I believe this form of writing is relied upon too heavily, and the other crucial aspects of any good novel are rarely used. This results in a world that I can see, hear, and smell very well through the journal entries, but not one I end up caring about or remembering after I’ve finished.
I also believe Tsukiyama didn’t capitalize on all that first-person (let alone journal entries) has to offer. Writing in a journal is supposed to be a very private thing, something that the author pours their soul into, unhindered and unrestrained. Yet when it comes to Stephen, he either has very little feeling or he simply doesn't write it down. And the problem isn’t that Stephen doesn’t face circumstances that would invoke emotions worthy of writing down. He has plenty. During his time at Tarumi, he experiences love, the looming onset of his parent’s divorce, suicide, and loneliness. Surely some of these would be worthy of a little dramatized writing, right? Apparently not.
When it comes to the journal entries, I really don’t understand why Tsukiyama chose to write the novel this way. I think it complicates things more than anything. At the end of the novel, we learn that Stephen wrote a novel (this novel) based on his journal entries. Okay, that’s fine. But why write the book as if it was a journal if the book he wrote is different from the one he wrote his journal entries in? Why not just go with basic first-person narrator? This really set me off and confused me while reading it.
I think that because the form was somewhat confused and poorly used the book suffered over all. I as the reader felt that I should see more of Stephen's feelings and personality through his journal entries, instead it feels much more like a research journal: heavy description without personality. This would be fine if the story wasn't an emotional one. But I believe the story was intended to be emotional. But instead of emotion, we get a sort of apathy, as if everything is distant from the reader despite how closely Tsukiyama draws us into the physical gardens and villages.
Now that we've got a bit of an understanding of how this story is meant to be read, we can take a look at the actual story.
CHARACTERS
Stephen
Regarding Stephen’s character, from start to finish, I wasn’t impressed. When he arrives at Tarumi, the first impression we get is that he’s lonely, sick, and somewhat empty. Each of these aspects present a lot of problems thoughout the book and aren't really improved upon by the end. As we read the last sentence everything is pretty much the same and Stephen isn’t really a much different person despite everything he's experienced. He’s still lonely despite the friends he's made, and still has an emptiness (both morally and emotionally) about him. I’m going to discuss each of these factors and look at the way they are addressed throughout the book.
First up is Stephen’s sickness. He’s got tuberculosis so bad that his own sister is forbidden from entering his room. It is a contagious disease, after all. But, upon entering Tarumi, he seems to forget that it's contagious. There is no form of safe distancing himself from other people. He even kisses and hugs Keiko, a local girl, without once thinking “shoot, I better be careful if I don’t want her to get TB.” Now I’m not certain how TB spreads, but if the doctors suggested that his little sister shouldn’t be in his room then I bet kissing isn’t a good idea either.
Stephen does show some medical improvement while in Tarumi, particularly when he’s in the garden. His strength improves and he is able to move around a little better than he could when he arrived. Good for him, but it still doesn’t really effect the story in any lasting way.
There could have been a really interesting parallel drawn here between Stephen's contagious disease and the way the lepers of the hidden village of Yamaguchi are isolated.
Second is Stephen’s relationships. As I mentioned earlier, Stephen is so sick his own sister isn’t allowed to enter his room (yet he attends university…). As you might imagine, he’s very lonely. When he comes to Tarumi he’s expecting the same loneliness to continue and get worse. It does to some degree until he is able to break the ice with Matsu, the elderly family servant. Once he gets under Matsu's tough skin, the two become friends and really hit it off. Stephen isn’t so lonely anymore. He then meets Keiko, a village girl, and he’s got another person to think about and keep him company (although their relationship is a real dumpster fire). To top all of this off, he meets Sachi: a leper living in a leper village called Yamaguchi. She’s got a rich and tragic backstory, and as we learn later, she's Matsu’s girlfriend. For whatever reason, he takes a great liking to her immediately. I tried to get behind the mother-son relationship between Stephen and Sachi, but it really is confusing why he likes her so much. It feels a little too convenient, as if it's only so we can hear Sachi's story. He says something about how her beauty is an inner one, despite her gnarled face, which is great, but doesn't really drive his character much. Anyway, she becomes a great friend, and in turn, considers him a good enough friend to tell her whole life’s story. Especially the really gritty parts that most people would consider none of anyone’s business to pry into. And boy does Stephen pry.
He pries into literally everything he has even the slightest curiosity in. For a twenty-year-old, he acts much more like the descriptions we get of his younger sister. He doesn’t hesitate to ask (even when he can tell someone is embarrassed or uncomfortable), and no one seems to think anything of it. This is especially confusing because Tsukiyama seems to want to create the image of traditional Japan, where everyone is super respectful and private. Of course, Stephen is Chinese, but surely someone would be put off by his rudeness.
Anyway, to put it simply: Stephen gains friends by intruding on everyone's privacy and doesn’t feel quite so lonely anymore. However, in the end he has to leave all of his new friends behind when he returns home and the story ends with the impression that he's lonelier than ever now. One thing that was especially irritating was that he seems to abandon those he left in Hong Kong. His friends and family are continuously ignored even though they write several letters to him. He can’t even find it within himself to write to his mother after she asks about his father, who is suspected of being in an adulterous relationship.
On one hand, I want to sympathize with Stephen's loneliness. On the other, the way he treats those who try to reach out and connect with him is very contrary to said loneliness.
Another troubling aspect of this book is the lack of resolution and belief: the emptiness Stephen seems to embody. In real life, when someone experiences anything, they form some sort of conclusion and usually act on that conclusion. This is natural, it’s how things happen. But here, it seems that Stephen isn’t able to think much for himself. Whatever he hears from his parents, Matsu, Sachi, Keiko, or most anyone else is just accepted both morally and factually. He just moves on without protesting or even considering his own beliefs. This leads me to believe that he doesn't have much personality to offer.
The most notable example is when he learns of his father’s adulterous relationship with a Japanese woman. He is horrified at first and wants to write to tell his mother. That’s a pretty normal response, I can’t imagine that any twenty-year-old wouldn’t have a similar reaction. But, his father then explains the situation to his beloved son. Of course, his explanation is only his attempt at justification. When he does, Stephen writes:
“I knew the sense of integrity I had long admired in him had died, and that I was already grieving for its loss.”
That’s a pretty heavy sentence. Stephen is obviously disappointed by his father, and he’s in a difficult situation. He can’t do anything to change his father’s actions, his father even tells him that he’s been seeing the woman for more than twelve years and doesn’t intend to stop. That’s rough.
But possibly the most disappointing thing about this situation is Stephen’s response. As the narrator and journal writer, one would think we’d see some emotion from him regarding this. But instead, the final conclusion we get from him is that while he doesn't like it, his father is a free man and his mother will be fine. There is no struggle of right and wrong in Stephen's mind, making it feel like he doesn't really care. The sentence I quoted above was the most emotional sentence I could get concerning this rend in his family.
Oh, the one thing he does have an opinion about is Keiko’s father, of course. He’s a bad person for protecting his daughter (I'll touch more on this later). Stephen seems to justify his father’s betrayal of his mother more than Keiko’s father’s attempt to protect his daughter. But even then, he doesn't dwell on it too much.
In reality, I think people hold onto things much longer, dangerously so. If a character experiences a life changing tragedy but they don't change at all within, is it really worth writing about?
Now, there is something to be said about letting the reader make up their mind in regard to a character or situation. The problem here is that Tsukiyama did not write The Samurai's Garden that way.
Matsu
Matsu is probably the most interesting and reliable character. He's a good opposite to Stephen's rather brash and rude personality, and I think he saved the book from becoming overburdened by our narrator. As roughly as I criticized Stephen, I really don’t have a problem with Matsu. He’s presented as the metaphorical samurai to the title, and carries on as such. His character is a lot like the small village: peaceful and quiet, private. Stephen of course pries him out of his shell and soon uncovers his secret charity and devotion to the hidden lepers of Yamaguchi, particularly to Sachi. Matsu’s business is soon Stephen’s business, and the romance between the elderly couple is almost immediately third-wheeled by Stephen.
The relationship between Matsu and Stephen is somewhat sweet, mostly because Matsu is patient with the intrusive young adult. Matsu also seems to have a deeper understanding of everything Stephen struggles with and serves as the mentor figure throughout the novel. His advice often comes in garden metaphors and analogies, which I did quite like.
Once we get into Matsu’s character we get to see that he really is much better than previously imagined. He’s gone the majority of his life protecting and providing for Sachi throughout the development of her leprosy and has sacrificed pretty much everything to look out for her. Yet he doesn’t boast anything.
Matsu would be a good role model for Stephen.
The name of the novel refers to Matsu’s garden, making it a very important feature. As we learn throughout the book, Matsu has been through quite a bit of life. He’s witnessed his sister’s suicide, as well as Sachi’s lowest depths of despair. Also, he put aside his feelings for Sachi for years because his best friend (Kenzo) had feelings for her (this ended up with Kenzo being a grade A jerk and finally killing himself when he realizes Sachi doesn’t like grade A jerks). After all of this, any sane man would need something to cope. Rather than turn to alcohol or drugs, Matsu turns to gardening. The result is a beautiful space that seems almost magical in the way that it touches everyone who enters it. It’s a really precious picture of how our suffering, when we are able to process it and communicate it in a healthy way, can be used for good. This, among other features, makes Matsu my favorite character.
Sachi
Sachi is the metaphorical yin to Matsu’s yan. He helped her through the darkest period in her life, and has earned her affection. She, like him, is kind and patient with the intrusive Stephen. We get a lot of backstory on her, much more than Stephen and Matsu combined. This did get a little dry for me, as much of her history came in huge chunks of unbroken dialogue. But, her story is interesting and an overall good part of the story.
The key aspects of her story are that she noticed her leprosy in the middle of her engagement with Kenzo, chose to leave rather than dishonor her family, and has lived in Yamaguchi the rest of her life. She is another illustration of Matsu’s goodness, as throughout almost the entirety of her monologue, she makes it clear that she would not be alive if not for Matsu.
There is another tie to Matsu that I found really sweet and a take-away moment from the book. After Sachi retreats into Yamaguchi she begins to fall into deep despair. Hoping to lift her spirits, Matsu suggests building a garden to take her mind off of things and create a peaceful space for her. Now, Matsu’s garden is beautiful, full of vibrant colors and life. Sachi detests this at first, as she has begun to take on more severe leprosy and does not want to be presented with beauty. That makes sense, and Matsu understands. But, he continues to set up a garden for her. However, he creates a karesansui, a Japanese rock garden. It’s a compilation of gravel, rocks, boulders, and moss and is a different kind of beauty than his. The garden he creates for her (which she accepts and cares for) is a picture of the inner beauty she possesses as her physical beauty fades. It’s a touching gesture and really strengthens both Sachi and Matsu’s character. She is able to communicate to Stephen that this garden is a reminder of her worth despite being outcast and dead to the world. She becomes a really strong supporting character when this is demonstrated.
Keiko
Sephen’s "love interest", Keiko is a young Japanese woman with a younger sister and conservative parents. That’s pretty much all we ever learn about her. Upon their first meeting, she seems to take a liking to Stephen, which seemed very cliche when I was reading, but I let it slide in the belief that things would get better and she would reveal more on why she’s interested in him. But that never happens. Her and Stephen experience a very shallow relationship (that we are supposed to care about), and I often wondered if he liked her because she was seemingly the only girl around. Other than that, Tsukiyama gives us no other reason apart from her being good looking. Nothing really happens in the end, and they break up due to the racial tension growing as the result of the war. My takeaway is that Keiko’s character serves only to emphasize that the war is happening and there’s racial tension between Japanese and Chinese people, which is unfortunate as she could have been a good piece of development for Stephen and an interesting character in herself.
Going off this, I think it is important to discuss the story's setting.
SETTING
There are three things to keep in mind as the novel transpires, things we are aware of from the beginning. First, Stephen is Chinese, specifically from Hong Kong under British rule. Second, Tarumi (where the family summer house is located) is in Japan. Third, the year is 1937, Japan is beginning its assault on China. The war, therefore, is something we need to take into consideration as we read. But so much of the story seems bent on contradicting it.
First off, what parent would send their child (be he twenty or twelve) to a country that is at war with their own? There is no excuse to be made that Stephen’s family did not know the war would break out, the book starts in September, and the Japanese-Chinese conflict started in July. Also, there are ties as far back to 1931 that built up to the battles taking place throughout the novel. I don’t believe any parent would send their child during such circumstances in the hope that some fresh air would do him good. The country invading his could do a lot worse than the dirty air in Hong Kong. It would make much more sense to send him to a country not at war with them. But whatever, nothing all that bad happens because of it anyway.
Yeah, that’s right, even though Stephen is Chinese, no one in Japan even considers doing anything. Matsu (family servant) seems disgusted by his country’s war and doesn’t bring it up around Stephen. This is justified largely because his family (Japanese) has served Stephen's for generations. But there are those in Tarumi who do rejoice when they hear Japan’s successes on the radio. But do they do anything when they see a Chinese boy walking their streets? Nope. They don’t even bat a condemning eye.
Even when Stephen goes to Tokyo with his father (also Chinese), all he gets are several curious glances. If Japan was as traditional as Tsukyiama continuously tries to paint the simple villagers as, surely someone would take it upon themselves to do something to someone who very well could be a spy or a fugitive.
The only one who does anything is Keiko’s father. He does what any sensible father would do: prohibits her from seeing Stephen. After all, what if she ended up marrying him and going back to China? She’d probably get killed if the Japanese ever reached Hong Kong. Keiko doesn’t see things the same way of course and continues seeing Stephen in secret (why she has an attachment to him I still have no clue). She only cuts the chord when her brother is killed in a battle at Hsuchowfu.
So I guess one purpose the war serves is to hash up Stephen’s relationship.
There is an argument that could be made concerning the similarity between racial division and the separation of the lepers and the Tarumi villagers. But even then, what was the need for such an illustration? The lepers aren’t hunted or persecuted. They are cast out, yes. But most of that is of their choosing. They choose to leave rather than “dishonor” their families. Of course, disappearing in the night (many of the lepers committed suicide) isn’t the most honorable thing either.
Maybe 1937 was just a fun backdrop, maybe it didn’t really have a purpose.
CONCLUSION
In the end, while The Samurai’s Garden is filled with lush plants and colors, they seem to be out of season by the time the novel starts. Stephen is an ambiguous narrator, giving us no personal resolution in the end, despite the first-person narration. Much as a garden is filled with colorful flowers, this novel is filled with complex situations and dilemas. However, unlike Matsu's garden, no one tends to these dilemas or seems to give them much of a second thought. They happened and everyone moves on, making the events themselves much less significant, a lot like the novel now that I think about it. If you're interested in reading it, borrow it from a library rather than buying it. I read it and I won't be rereading it.