51 pages • 1 hour read
Yu Miri, Transl. Morgan GilesTokyo Ueno Station
Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2014A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Pages 43-82Chapter Summaries & Analyses
Pages 43-54 Summary
Abruptly, the narrative once again shifts to another dialogue happening in the present, this time between two women in their thirties. The two discuss trivialities, and as they talk, Kazu describes the oddities of hearing and speaking:
I can no longer hear sounds or voices with my ears. But I feel like I’m listening closely. I can’t watch people anymore either. But I feel like I’m watching intently. And I can’t speak about what I hear or see anymore. But I can talk to people. The people in my memories, whether they’re alive or dead— (43-44).
Kazu observes the intermittent rain, partially listening to various conversations. He notices a cyclist who stops in front of the Statue of Times Forgotten, which serves as a memorial to those killed in a firebombing conducted by the US military in 1945. Kazu recalls what his friend Shige told him about this catastrophe and the horribly tragic circumstances that led to the deaths of over a hundred thousand people, more than were killed in Nagasaki or Hiroshima by the atomic bombs. Many of those people were working-class citizens. Kazu briefly observes a man shaving and comments that he is likely unhoused; then he goes back to the statue and his conversation with Shige about the firebombing. He describes what the statue actually looks like: a woman holding a baby in one hand, with her other hand on the shoulder of another child. The children are looking toward the sky, while the mother looks straight ahead.
The statue reminds Kazu of his family. He transitions back to discussing his son, Koichi, and recalls the day of his death. The Tokyo Olympics were over, and Kazu had been transferred to Sendai for work. Kazu notes that it had been raining the day he got the call that Koichi was dead. This scene reveals that Kazu’s last name is Mori.
When Kazu arrives at the morgue, he and his wife discover that Koichi had died of an illness or natural causes. He was 21 years old. Kazu repeatedly mentions that “it was raining” (50) and recalls the radio announcement of the imperial prince’s birth as he looks at Koichi’s death certificate.
The narrative moves forward, and Kazu recalls getting the body of his son home and removing the cloth covering his corpse. Kazu describes the look on his dead son’s face, as though he was still sleeping. Much of what follows is a detailed description of Kazu, Setsuko, and their extended family attempting to come to terms with the reality of Koichi’s passing. Kazu specifically describes how he “could not comprehend it […] [his] shock, [his] grief, [his] anger were all so great that crying felt inadequate” (53). Kazu’s mother mentions that Kazu had always been unlucky, and the words weigh on Kazu “like rain.”
Pages 54-72 Summary
Kazu continues his recollection of his son’s death and funeral. He mentions that, while he didn’t necessarily want to die, he had been working hard his entire life and had grown tired of trying.
As he is on his way to visit a neighbor, he catches sight of an unfamiliar, white-breasted bird before it flies away. He wonders if Koichi is now this bird. A meal is being prepared in the home in preparation for a ceremonial meal. Kazu recalls getting married to Setsuko, though he has trouble remembering the details. Koichi is still inside the house, covered in a white cloth. Kazu discusses a Buddhist prayer, which leads him to recount a discussion between him and his own father about the origins of their family, especially during the Edo period, and the discrimination they faced when they first arrived in Soma, Fukushima, because they followed a different sect of Buddhism. Kazu’s father describes the differences between their Buddhist practices and beliefs and says that remembering the struggles of their ancestors helps him put his own struggles into perspective.
As Kazu’s father is talking, a grandfather clock chimes, which distracts Kazu, and he realizes that Koichi can no longer hear the clock chiming. The funeral guests all finally arrive, and Kazu gives a speech that had been prepared for him by his father. Among the mourners is Koichi’s friend from high school, Akiko. Because he had been an itinerant worker and away from his family, Kazu does not even know who Akiko is or that Koichi ever had a best friend. Kazu feels remorse at this and feels cut off even further from his deceased son. As the mourners begin to express their condolences, Kazu once again catches sight of the white-breasted bird he had seen earlier and is convinced that it is Koichi. Setsuko talks to the priest about Koichi, trying to reconcile her grief and confusion with the beliefs of their sect. The priest explains how the ideas of a “good” or “bad” death are purely subjective; where a young person may long for more time with a grandparent, for instance, that grandparent may pray for a swift death so as not to be a burden. Finally, the priest reads the funeral prayers.
Pages 72-82 Summary
It is the day after the funeral, a total of five days since Koichi died. Kazu is still in a state of denial, unable to accept the death of his son. The body has now begun to decompose and there is a foul odor beginning to fill the house. Present-day Kazu trails off in his narrative recollection as he describes how he felt he had to live in order to mourn Koichi, fixating on the words “to live.”
Finally, undertakers arrive with a coffin and transport the body away. The priest is there once again, and he leads Kazu and Setsuko in prayer as the body is placed in the coffin. As part of tradition, Koichi is given a Dharma name, Shaku Junko, which roughly means Koichi: obedient follower of Buddha. The “ko” in “Junko” is taken from the “Ko” in “Koichi.” The coffin is then transported out of the house by pallbearers, and as Kazu carries the funeral tablet, he realizes the terrible irony that it is his son that should be carrying it for him, not the other way around. As the Buddhist prayer is repeated over and over, Kazu thinks about the irony of the way the “Ko” in Koichi’s name, borrowed from the crown prince, has followed Koichi into death. The body is loaded into a hearse, where Koichi’s body will be taken to a crematorium.
Pages 43-82 Analysis
For the bulk of this section, Kazu describes the death of his son and the resulting grief that he and his family experience. The theme The Impact of Grief is most directly introduced in this section, though there are references to The Influence of Poverty and references to Kazu’s deteriorating mental state. The section also delves more directly into recent Japanese history through Kazu’s friend, Shige.
Within Ueno Park is the Statue of Times Forgotten, which memorializes the victims of an aerial attack by the United States during World War II. Shige provides a detailed account of specifics regarding the bombardment:
Over three hundred B-29s flying at low altitude dropped seventeen hundred incendiary bombs on the most densely populated, working-class part of the city. A fierce north wind was blowing that night, which soon turned the fire into a tsunami of flames, engulfing the streets (45).
While the atomic bombs that landed on Hiroshima and Nagasaki are more widely remembered for various reasons, it is highly likely that more lives were lost in the firebombing of Tokyo. Shige says, “In just two hours that night, over a hundred thousand people lost their lives, but there’s not a single public monument to them anywhere in the city, nothing like the peace parks in Hiroshima and Nagasaki” (45). The Statue of Times Forgotten is the only memorial of the event. This story references the theme of Invisible Classism in Japan, as it is heavily implied that the lack of acknowledgment of the disaster is due to the fact that most of the people who died were working-class citizens, who are less valued at best and completely forgotten at worst.
This implication is held up by the bicyclist under the statue. Kazu comments that the man likely has no home despite his decent clothing, due to the belongings stored on the man’s bicycle. Shige’s description of the historical events memorialized by the statue is rich with irony: The bicyclist stands in the shadow of a monument to the victims of a terrible and horrific tragedy, all the while performing basic hygiene publicly, paying no mind to the statue or what it represents. Likewise, no one but Kazu pays the man any attention, implying that he, just like the victims of the firebombing, is easily ignored and forgettable.
While the force of history is an important thematic concern in this section, grief and loss have a more central presence due to Koichi’s sudden death. The author provides evidence of the various stages of grief in the way Kazu describes his state of mind during this time. Even narrating these long-passed events, Kazu clearly still has a sense of guilt over not being there for his son. Because he was always away working, Kazu was hardly ever around to see his son grow up. He says, “[W]e shared the same blood, but I meant no more to him than a stranger” (69). This exposes Kazu’s inner sense of remorse and guilt. Kazu is also unable to accept the fact that his son is dead. Kazu recalls, “The grandfather clock chimed, telling me that yet another hour had passed, but I couldn’t make myself feel as though time were actually passing” (53). This inability to accept reality turns into denial a bit later when Kazu says,
The notion that Kōichi could not hear it seemed odd to me as I watched the movement of the brass pendulum. When the last chime had faded, the house became as silent as if it were underwater, and I could not help but think that he was listening to this silence, that Kōichi was listening (65).
Kazu is repeatedly stunned by reminders and revelations of just how distant he was from his family: He repeatedly notes that he didn’t have any photos of Koichi, and he is shocked to learn that Koichi had a best friend, someone Kazu had never even heard of, let alone met.
The Impact of Grief is clear through Kazu’s disjointed storytelling, as well as his lack of hope or acceptance. He makes constant references to the rain, he struggles to recall details of his life, and he talks about how he “had never been found by the light. [He] would always be in darkness—” (55). He also does not participate in Setsuko’s conversation with the priest. Where Setsuko seeks comfort in her grief, asking the priest to help her understand her own suffering and clinging to the idea that Koichi can hear her prayers, Kazu focuses on the prayer “Namu Amida Butsu” and the fact that Koichi will not be around to carry Kazu’s funeral tablet (79). Kazu’s father tells a long story about their ancestors, which he claims helps him to keep living despite hardship because they had it much harder. For Kazu, however, the death of his son never turns into an opportunity to appreciate life more. It does not offer lessons on the meaning of death, pain, or hardship. Instead, the grief remains with him forever, which is best summed up when Kazu says, “And tomorrow, he would be dead, too. From now on, he would always be dead” (54). Kazu also mentions growing tired, a reference to the beginning of the book and a foreshadowing of his worsening mental state.
Lastly, The Power of Circumstances makes a brief appearance here through the discussion of Koichi’s name. After Koichi dies, he gets a Buddhist name that contains the “Ko” from his first name. Kazu reflects on how he purposely chose the same “Ko” as the crown prince’s. It is tragically ironic that a character that, in a way, does not truly belong to Koichi is the only remnant tying his living and posthumous names together. It is also tragic because the crown prince, whose family is not impoverished, likely would have been quickly diagnosed, treated, and saved. At the same time, the suddenness of Koichi’s death, particularly juxtaposed with his successful passing of a prestigious school exam and descriptions of his energetic joy, equally hints that Koichi’s death was unpreventable and coincidental, rather than a product of poverty. This is tied to Kazu’s mother’s comment: “You worked so hard to send us money all these years, and now when you ought to take it easy… Well, you never did have any luck, did you?” (53-54). These words stick with Kazu, and they add weight to the idea that Koichi’s death was a matter entirely out of anyone’s hands.
