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WORK TITLE: Lion Cross Point
WORK NOTES:
PSEUDONYM(S):
BIRTHDATE: 11/27/1970
WEBSITE:
CITY:
STATE:
COUNTRY: Japan
NATIONALITY: Japanese
RESEARCHER NOTES:
PERSONAL
Born November 27, 1970, in Oita prefecture, Japan.
EDUCATION:Graduate of the University of Tokyo; University of Paris VIII, Ph.D.
ADDRESS
CAREER
Writer, novelist, educator, and translator. Rikkyo University, Tokyo, Japan, professor of literature.
AWARDS:Asahi Award for New Writers, for Mizu ni umoreru haka; Mishima Yukio Prize, for Nigiyakana wan ni seowareta fune; Akutagawa Prize, Japan, 2015, for his short story “9 Nen Mae no Inori” (“A Prayer Nine Years Ago”).
WRITINGS
Also author of novels in Japanese, including Mizu ni umoreru haka (“The Water-Covered Grave”), Nigiyakana wan ni seowareta fune (“Boat on a Choppy Bay”), Mori no hazure de (“At the Edge of the Forest”), Maikurobasu (“Microbus”) and Shishiwatari-bana (“Lion’s Tread Point”). Translator of works by French writers Èdouard Glissant and Marie NDiaye into Japanese.
SIDELIGHTS
Masatsugu Ono is a Japanese novelist who in 2015 won Japan’s most prestigious literary award, Akutagawa Prize. In college Ono started out studying French philosophy but changed to French literature upon a professor’s suggestion that he read the French novelist Patrick Chamoiseau. As a literature professor, Ono’s interests focus on the literature creation theory, literary criticism, modern Francophone literature, and comparative literature. Ono also translates French works into Japanese.
Over his career, Ono has maintained a steady output of fiction that includes both short stories and novels. His first novel was published in 2001. “The places I write about are always based on my hometown, a small fishing village in the south of Oita prefecture,” Ono noted in an interview with Julian Ryall for the South China Morning Post Online. Ono also noted that his literary influences in addition to Chamoiseauv include J.M. Coetzee, William Faulkner, Gabriel García Marquez, and Kenzaburo Oe.
In his first novel translated into English, Lion Cross Point, Ono tells the story of ten-year-old Takeru, who is struggling with his past and the horrible acts committed against his mother and brother. Takeru does not narrate the story but Ono delves into the boys mind to provide his perspective on the tale. “When I started to write this novel, I got the feeling that this story had to be told from his point of view,” Ono told World Literature Today Online contributor Reid Bartholomew, noting that he chose not to write in the first-person because he was not familiar with the type of “hardships” Takeru had experienced. Ono went on to tell Bartholomew that “writing this novel was for me an attempt to get as close as possible to his mind so that I could feel his suffering,” adding that his goal was to show readers “that there were a lot of things about Takeru that not even the author could grasp.”
In Lion Cross Point readers learn that Takeru’s mother largely neglected him when he lived with her in Tokyo. She also gave him the duty as primary caretaker of his older brother, who was mentally and physically disabled. Eventually, relative named Mitsuko takes Takeru back to the seaside village where his mother spent her youth. The novel follows Takeru as he forms a relationship with Mitsuko and his spunky neighbor, Saki. Still, Takeru remains troubled even as he starts to from a more concrete idea of his mother’s history and begins to reconsider what makes up a family and home.
After seeing a photograph of a boy, Takeru starts to see a strange figure called Bunji, which is the name of a young boy who disappeared from the village many years earlier. Commenting on his decision to introduce a fantastical element to the story in which Takeru sees things that others cannot, Ono told World Literature Today Online contributor Bartholomew that in his estimation Takeru believed in the things he saw, adding: “When we were children, we saw and heard things differently from the way we do now: our perception of the world was very different. It may well be that, as adults, we are just not aware of the elements that surround us, which are very real but simply not visible to our eyes.”
In addition to pondering the story of the dead boy, Takeru, along with his friend Saki, learns about how nearly twenty years earlier Takeru’s mother and Saki’s father almost died. Takeru’s memories of his own past still persist, including how his mother’s boyfriend used to burn him with a cigarette. However, he also remembers the kind people in Tokyo and elsewhere who have tried to help him.
“Ono uses minimalist language and metaphor to create a gentle yet powerful rendering of the inner turmoil of a boy,” wrote a Publishers Weekly contributor. In a review in World Literature Today, Reid Bartholomew remarked: “Lion Cross Point is marked by a dichotomy between the inevitability of suffering and the potential for compassion within those moments.”
BIOCRIT
PERIODICALS
Publishers Weekly, February 12, 2018, review of Lion Cross Point, p. 52.
World Literature Today, May-June, 2018, Reid Bartholomew, review of Lion Cross Point, p. 69.
ONLINE
Granta Online, https://granta.com/ (June 21, 2018), author contributor profile.
South China Morning Post Online, http://www.scmp.com/ (March 14, 2015), Julian Ryall, “Interview: Masatsugu Ono, Winner of Japan’s Top Prize for Emerging Novelists.”
World Literature Today Online, https://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/ (May 1, 2018), Reid Bartholomew, “The Big Thing: A Conversation with Masatsugu Ono.”
World Without Borders, https://www.wordswithoutborders.org/ (June 21, 2018), brief author profile.
MASATSUGU ONO
Masatsugu Ono (b. 1970) maintains a steady output of fiction while working as a professor and researcher of Francophone literature. After doing graduate work at the University of Tokyo, Ono earned his PhD at the University of Paris VIII. In 2001, he published his first novel, Mizu ni umoreru haka (The Water-Covered Grave), which won the Asahi Award for New Writers. His second novel, Nigiyakana wan ni seowareta fune (Boat on a Choppy Bay), won the Mishima Yukio Prize. In addition to writing other works of fiction such as Mori no hazure de (At the Edge of the Forest), Maikurobasu (Microbus) and Shishiwatari-bana (Lion’s Tread Point), he has also translated works by Èdouard Glissant and Marie NDiaye into Japanese.
Interview: Masatsugu Ono, winner of Japan's top prize for emerging novelists
PUBLISHED : Saturday, 14 March, 2015, 10:41pm
UPDATED : Saturday, 14 March, 2015, 10:41pm
Julian Ryall
Julian Ryall
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In January, Masatsugu Ono won the152nd Akutagawa Prize for his short story 9 Nen Mae no Inori (A Prayer Nine Years Ago). Founded in 1935 and regarded as the most prestigious award in Japanese literature for up-and-coming novelists, the Akutagawa Prize counts Kenzaburo Oe, Ryu Murakami and Shintaro Ishihara among its winners. Ono's book tells of a Japanese woman who, after living in Tokyo and overseas for many years, faces challenges trying to raise her son as a single mother in a Japanese village. Born in Oita prefecture in 1970, Ono studied at the University of Tokyo and earned a PhD from the University of Paris VIII. He is now an associate professor of literature at Rikkyo University in Tokyo, focusing on literary criticism and modern Francophone literature. He talks to Julian Ryall
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Have you been surprised by the reaction the book has received?
Yes, very. This was the fourth time that one of my stories had been shortlisted, and I had not won previously, so I was half hoping but also half resigned to not winning. But the impact of winning the prize has been huge. When I went back to Oita recently I met the governor and he gave me an honorary award. The people in my hometown were very proud, as well, and I think that might be because the story is set there and it represents their lives in many ways.
How does it feel to be recognised in the same way as authors such as Kenzaburo Oe, Kobo Abe and the rest?
Winning the Akutagawa is going to make it easier for me to continue writing, without a doubt, and many publishers are now interested in my work. But it is still difficult to make a living by the pen. The Naoki Prize is for popular literature, and winners of that can make a living from writing, but the Akutagawa is different. But I have always enjoyed conducting research, and I love teaching, so I will continue with those, as well.
Where did the concept behind the book come from?
The places I write about are always based on my hometown, a small fishing village in the south of Oita prefecture. Recently, my focus has been on families that have many difficulties. I also hear lots of anecdotes from my mother - who is very talkative - about local people. She went to Canada about 15 years ago with some friends, and she told me stories about that trip that gave me ideas for my story.
Was it difficult to write from the perspective of a woman who has been in a relationship with a foreign man?
It was not very difficult. I'm an easy-going person. I talk a lot; some of my friends say I'm like an old woman. And when I go to my hometown, I am surrounded by people who are talking all the time. I find it very easy to identify with them. It was only a little more difficult to identify with a 35-year-old single mother, but my writing is all about becoming the other person. That can be a challenge, but it is also interesting for me.
How long did it take to write the book, and what was the hardest part?
The writing took about five months but the research was about a year. And while all writing is difficult, it is also pleasurable. But this book was a little different. My brother died of a brain tumour last year. We knew he was going to die, and I felt his imminent passing very strongly. I loved my brother, and when I found out he was ill, I wanted to write a book that revolved around the absence of one person who was dear to others. And even though this is fiction, that person for me is my brother. So writing is a pleasure for me, but it comes with pain.
What is your strategy for working through the tough parts of writing?
In the preparatory stages, I never know how to start. When I do begin, I always start by having a scene that I try to put into words. After that, writing is like digging a tunnel; I start digging in one direction, but sometimes that tunnel collapses so I have to go off at another angle until I get to where I want to be. But I never know the ending of a story when I start writing.
Who have been your literary influences and why?
I'm easily influenced, so everything I have read has had some influence on me. Every time I read a novel, I learn many new things. I particularly enjoy William Faulkner, Gabriel García Marquez, Kenzaburo Oe and J. M. Coetzee, but my favourite is Patrick Chamoiseau's Texaco.
Where does your interest in French literature stem from? And who's your favourite French author?
When I first went to university, I studied French philosophy, but it was hard for me, and my professor recommended I read Chamoiseau. I read his first novel, Chroniques des Sept Misères (Chronicle of the Seven Sorrows), and I felt the book was full of people from my hometown. I abandoned - with pleasure - my philosophy studies. I found French literature much easier to "eat".
Are you working on a new project?
I'm trying to write a historical novel based on the history of southern Oita. It's set in the Meiji era and includes real people born in my prefecture, such as journalist Yano Ryukei, who was known for his bestselling political novels and adventure fiction. I'm doing the research at the moment, and I expect it will take another two years to complete, but my publisher is pushing me to do it faster because of the Akutagawa Prize.
This article appeared in the South China Morning Post print edition as: Hometown flavour earns honour for a Japanese son
Contributor
Masatsugu Ono
Image of Masatsugu Ono
Masatsugu Ono is the author of numerous novels, including Mizu ni umoreru haka (The Water-Covered Grave), which won the Asahi Award for New Writers, and Nigiyakana wan ni seowareta fune (Boat on a Choppy Bay), which won the Mishima Prize. A prolific translator from the French—including works by Èdouard Glissant and Marie NDiaye—Ono received the Akutagawa Prize, Japan’s highest literary honor, in 2015. He lives in Tokyo.
The Big Thing: A Conversation with Masatsugu Ono
by Reid Bartholomew
A photo of author Masatsugu Ono
photo: Kodansha (Kiyoshi Mori)
Masatsugu Ono is a Japanese writer based in Tokyo and the author of numerous novels, including Mizu ni umoreru haka (The water-covered grave), which won the Asahi Award for New Writers, and Nigiyakana wan ni seowareta fune (Boat on a choppy bay), which won the Mishima Yukio Prize. In 2015 he received the Akutagawa Prize, Japan’s highest literary honor, for his work 9 Nen Mae no Inori (A prayer nine years ago). In addition, Ono is an accomplished translator who has translated several works from the French.
Lion Cross Point, a translation of his work by Angus Turvill, was published in April 2018. Here, he discusses some of the themes central to his work, such as the prominence of place and the power of compassion, and some of the major influences on his writing.
Reid Bartholomew: Jeffrey Angles, 2017 Yomiuri Prize recipient, has called you “one of the most important Japanese novelists of the post-Murakami generation.” What does it mean to you to be considered a part of this “post-Murakami generation”?
Masatsugu Ono: Jeffrey Angles is right to use the term “post-Murakami generation.” I think Murakami has changed the regime of literary Japanese language. When he first started publishing fiction at the end of the 1970s, his style—in which some critics saw the influence of Kurt Vonnegut Jr.—was both new and unique in its lightness and gentle humor. At the time his style was considered rather nonliterary, especially when compared to the seriousness of modern Japan’s literary tradition. Looking back on the history of postwar Japanese literature, we can see that Murakami made a clear mark in it: there is the pre-Murakami period and the post-Murakami period. Born in 1970 and having first started to publish at the very beginning of this century, I can say that I’m writing in the post-Murakami period, in other words, in the Japanese literary scene (or “literary field” in the Bourdieusian sense of the term) strongly marked by the work of Murakami.
Bartholomew: Two Lines Press describes Lion Cross Point as “reminiscent of Kenzaburō Ōe’s best work.” What parallels do you see between your own writing and his?
Ono: I myself was surprised by this comparison. Most of Ōe’s stories take place in two places: Tokyo, where the narrator lives with his family, and a small village situated in a valley on Shikoku Island. Ōe says there are two important subjects for him: the writer’s family life with his handicapped son, and literary investigations into the local popular culture of his pays natal (homeland), which he calls a “small peripheral place.” I have been very interested in the latter subject. Most of my stories take place in a small fishing village modeled on where I grew up.
Bartholomew: I understand you’ve spent a lot of time studying French philosophy and literature. What piqued this interest?
Ono: In the eighties and early nineties, in the literary milieu, the presence of so-called French high theory was very strong. The works of intellectuals such as Foucault, Deleuze, Derrida, Barthes, and others were widely read by students in the humanities. I was also interested in the work of French anthropologist Lévi-Strauss. No doubt influenced by this air du temps, I was very keen to learn French so that I could read these intellectuals in their original language.
Bartholomew: What aspects of that background with French philosophy and literature have worked their way into your writing?
Ono: I worked on Edward W. Said’s Orientalism for my BA thesis, without knowing that Ōe was a great reader of Said. They are friends: as you know, the title of Ōe’s last and probably final novel is a kind of homage to Said’s book On Late Style. For my MA, I worked on Michel Foucault, in particular on the role of literature in his work. For early Foucault, literary texts were his preferred materials for analysis. However, from the mid-1960s, he turned his back on literature. In my MA project, I tried, in vain, to explain the reason for his abandonment of literature. There were days when I couldn’t write even a single page, so I started to write a short story about my hometown. So perhaps it can be said that I started to write thanks to my study of French philosophy.
Bartholomew: I read that you have translated works of literature by Édouard Glissant and Marie NDiaye. Has having that experience with translation impacted your writing in any significant way?
Ono: Translation is good practice for reading a text precisely. The experience of having done translation often made me consider if I translated this or that phrase of my own writing into French, would the effect on the reader remain the same, or would it somehow be diminished?
Bartholomew: Do you read any of the translations of your own works?
Ono: I don’t read the whole translated book. But in the case of my English translations, I do take a look at the places in the text that I imagine would be particularly difficult to translate.
Bartholomew: In Lion Cross Point, you decided to write inside the mind of a fourth-grade child named Takeru. What aspects of that perspective were you most concerned with emulating?
Ono: When I started to write this novel, I got the feeling that this story had to be told from his point of view. I could have written from a first-person perspective, but I didn’t do that because I have never experienced the same hardships as Takeru. Therefore, writing this novel was for me an attempt to get as close as possible to his mind so that I could feel his suffering. I wanted to write in such a way that the reader would understand that there were a lot of things about Takeru that not even the author could grasp. I didn’t feel like I was “creating” a character. To me, Takeru is there just like a real person.
Bartholomew: In Lion Cross Point, you focus a lot on the importance of place and the way that it influences characters. In fact, it isn’t just the physical attributes of the place that have an impact, but the history of the place seems to actively engage the characters. Tell me a bit about your decision to make place such a prominent factor in this story.
Therefore, writing this novel was for me an attempt to get as close as possible to Takeru’s mind so that I could feel his suffering.
Ono: As I said above, most of my stories take place in a small seaside village modeled on my childhood village on the east coast of Kyushu Island. The village where I grew up is known for its deeply indented coastlines, and I have always been interested in writing about small places in the countryside rather than about cities. I have been very influenced by my own childhood experiences, though I left the village when I was eighteen. It is very common to say that the place where we grew up continues to have an influence on us, on the way we are. A place is not only a geographical site. It is woven from the people who live there, each with his or her own complex history, as well as from the history and culture of the place itself. As you suggest, the place in which this story is set is also one of the main characters in the story.
Bartholomew: The story incorporates some fantastical elements on top of reality, such as things that only Takeru can see. What made you include this dimension in an otherwise very real story?
Ono: I think these “fantastical” elements are very real for Takeru. As I was writing, I felt that the boy really saw them. So it was quite natural for me to include this dimension. When we were children, we saw and heard things differently from the way we do now: our perception of the world was very different. It may well be that, as adults, we are just not aware of the elements that surround us, which are very real but simply not visible to our eyes.
Bartholomew: At the 2012 PEN World Voices Festival during a conversation you had with Stuart Dybek, you spoke about how the ocean of your hometown was almost confining to you, something you always wanted to go beyond. From what I’ve seen, however, it’s a constant presence in your writing. Why do you choose to return there in your writing?
It may well be that, as adults, we are just not aware of the elements that surround us, which are very real but simply not visible to
our eyes.
Ono: Well, my small hamlet is situated on one of many coastal inlets that form the coastlines of my hometown. The sea itself seems enclosed by the surrounding hills. This landscape gave me a sense of confinement when I was a child. Even though the closeness of human relationships in a small town could be suffocating at times, I liked talking with the older inhabitants and listening to them talk to one another. But this natural confinement made me dream of ailleurs, another place. I always felt myself torn between the attachment I felt to my homeland and the desire to go farther afield.
Bartholomew: Does this sense of confinement hold true for Takeru, who has come from a very literally confining place in the city to this small fishing village?
Ono: It is Wakako, Takeru’s mother, who feels deeply this sense of confinement. I suppose Takeru felt himself confined when he was in a big city with his mother and his elder brother, but it’s no longer the case once he moves to the fishing village.
Even though the closeness of human relationships in a small town could be suffocating at times, I liked talking with the older inhabitants and listening to them talk to one another.
Bartholomew: Tell me a little bit about your fascination with water—it’s a motif that has appeared throughout many of your works.
Ono: I don’t know why. I’m not a good swimmer. I remember almost drowning in the sea when I was around ten years old. My friend and I thought that an approaching typhoon was still quite far off. The sky was clear. The see appeared calm. But . . .
Bartholomew: I’ve noticed that many of the adults are described as stooped over or having hunched backs. Was that simply a physical description that accompanies living out in the country, or were you deliberately trying to hint at a burden these characters were carrying?
Ono: I hadn’t noticed that myself, but perhaps it’s because I have a tendency to stoop myself (in Japanese we refer to this as having a cat’s back). But your interpretation is very interesting.
Bartholomew: There is a great deal of focus on physicality in general when describing people. The only character that we get much of a look into the internal world of is our Takeru, and he is often as confused about the inner worlds of others as we are.
Ono: I agree with you. For Takeru, the boundary between real and unreal, inner world and outer world, remains ambiguous. He seems to be haunted by an unconscious desire to eliminate the distance between him and his elder brother.
Bartholomew: Takeru always seems to be at the mercy of someone else, and, thankfully, there is always somebody compassionate enough to stretch out a hand in the darkest of times. That said, every one of those characters ends up having to leave. Is compassion just a brief respite from the pain of life, or is it something more to you?
Ono: Well, I hope those hands form a chain even if each of them is being given only momentarily to those who suffer. Don’t you think the fact that someone thinks of you even for a brief moment is in itself something encouraging and delightful? Compassion, a tender attention to others, is a sort of prayer for others.
Bartholomew: Throughout the novel, there are a lot of references to what Takeru calls “the big thing,” which seems to link everyone together. In some cases, it appears to be a religious element, but at other times it seems like something more natural and innate within people. Could you elaborate a little more on the significance of this “big thing”?
Ono: I think it is a sort of wholeness that envelops all of us along with all other forms of existence in this universe. It can certainly include a religious dimension. I’m wondering if it may be like a wholeness we feel when we listen to the music of Bach: this music is of course religious, but what we are given always goes beyond. Takeru doesn’t have enough words to describe what he feels or what he is exposed to. For him, it is nothing more than “the big thing.”
January 2018
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Masatsugu Ono: Lion Cross Point
Reid Bartholomew
World Literature Today.
92.3 (May-June 2018): p69+.
COPYRIGHT 2018 University of Oklahoma
http://www.worldliteraturetoday.com
Full Text:
Masatsugu Ono
Lion Cross Point
Trans. Angus Turvill. San Francisco. Two Lines Press. 2018. 128 pages.
Lion Cross Point is about a young boy named Takeru, vacillating between his traumatic past and present
and coming uncomfortably close to the pain he hasn't been able to reconcile. The story centers on his time
in the city with his mother and older brother and the ways in which that experience follows him all the way
to the small fishing village where a relative takes him in.
The phenomenon of place plays a powerful role in shaping the story. Of course, the environment influences
the characters in the novel, but it becomes something more. Setting is so prominent that it seems to be
another character at times, with its own motivations and personality. The characters don't just interact with
the settings; rather, the settings exert their own influence, alternately trapping Takeru and rehabilitating him
depending on the place.
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One of the most powerful aspects of the story is how Masatsugu Ono captures his protagonist's voice.
Takeru is a young boy struggling with his past, and while Ono does not write the story from Tak-eru's firstperson
perspective, the narrative inhabits the boy's mind, getting as close to his suffering as possible.
Takeru's internal workings display his childlike understanding of the world, including the gaps in that
understanding. Takeru is constantly trying to make sense of the situations to which he finds himself
subjected, which highlights these gaps and results in a tension within himself that underlies the story.
Takeru's unique relationship to the world around him allows for Ono to play around with slight tinges of the
fantastical. The past and present seem to meld together at times, and Takeru even begins to experience the
presence of a young boy who vanished from the village years ago. Without the assumptions that color the
perceptions of adults, Onos character can investigate aspects of the world in a different way, creating a
unique experience for readers that blurs the lines of reality.
Lion Cross Point is marked by a dichotomy between the inevitability of suffering and the potential for
compassion within those moments. Being a child, Takeru is constantly at the mercy of others, and, time and
time again, their decisions place him in painful situations. Every step of the way, though, there is someone
to help carry him through it, creating a book that is equal parts heart-wrenching and heartwarming.
(Editorial note : Turn to page 20 to read an interview with Ono.)
Reid Bartholomew University of Oklahoma
Source Citation (MLA 8th
Edition)
Bartholomew, Reid. "Masatsugu Ono: Lion Cross Point." World Literature Today, vol. 92, no. 3, 2018, p.
69+. General OneFile, http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A536987284/ITOF?
u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=8a1218e8. Accessed 4 June 2018.
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Lion Cross Point
Publishers Weekly.
265.7 (Feb. 12, 2018): p52.
COPYRIGHT 2018 PWxyz, LLC
http://www.publishersweekly.com/
Full Text:
Lion Cross Point
Masatsugu Ono, trans. from the Japanese by
Angus Turvill. Two Lines (PGW, dist.), $19.95
(128p) ISBN 978-1-931883-70-2
Ono's haunting short novel, his first to be translated into English, captures the thoughts, imaginings, and
dreams of a Japanese boy with memories so painful he cannot talk about them. Neglected by an
impoverished mother who leaves him in charge of his mentally and physically disabled older brother, 10-
year-old Takeru is taken from contemporary Tokyo by Mitsuko, a grandmotherly relative, to her oldfashioned
home in the seaside village where his mother grew up. Villagers welcome Takeru, but he remains
troubled. After looking at a photograph showing a boy who died long ago, Takeru sees the boy's ghost. At
Lion Cross Point on the coast, Takeru and his friend Saki hear the story of how Takeru's mother and Saki's
father almost died there 20 years earlier. Takeru puzzles over this story and that of the dead boy's; he also
has memories of his mother, his brother, people in Tokyo who helped them, and cigarette burns inflicted by
his mother's boyfriend. Blurring distinctions between living and dead, real and imaginary, past and present,
Ono uses minimalist language and metaphor to create a gentle yet powerful rendering of the inner turmoil
of a boy struggling to comprehend acts of kindness and violence, and feelings of abandonment and shame.
(Apr.)
Source Citation (MLA 8th
Edition)
"Lion Cross Point." Publishers Weekly, 12 Feb. 2018, p. 52. General OneFile,
http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A528615463/ITOF?u=schlager&sid=ITOF&xid=82c2d353.
Accessed 4 June 2018.
Gale Document Number: GALE|A528615463