Nureki Chimuo Archive

Ms. N. M.

Thank you very much for the gift copy of “The Right Half of Tokyo” (by Kyoichi Tsuzuki).

It’s a substantial book, heavy in the hand, printed on high-quality art paper, and 575 pages long (list price: 6000 yen). Not only is it physically weighty, but the gentle breath of the people living their lives within its pages also weighs heavily on the heart, touching me deeply and with great warmth. Ms. M., working alongside Tsuzuki-san, you’ve once again done a magnificent job.

When we met in Nihonbashi the other day, I was amazed by how beautiful, refined, and intellectually radiant you looked, but given the fulfilling and excellent work you’re doing, I suppose that’s only natural.

I thought about putting on the air of a proper critic and, for once, sitting up straight to share my thoughts on this book, but that wouldn’t be like me, so I’ll just write in my usual style.

What struck me most deeply was the sincerity of this book’s content. There are no lies or exaggerations. Every single detail is accurate.

It made me realize once again, though it goes without saying, that a work of art is, after all, the very heart of its creator.

The authenticity of Tsuzuki-san’s character is evident in the way his commitment to honestly portraying his subject matter naturally penetrates beyond mere sincerity to reach the very core of its truth.

In comparison (though making comparisons is generally a mistake), I’m always writing nothing but lies. Everything I do is nothing but lies. When I look at Tsuzuki-san’s writing and photographs, I realize just how frivolous and deceitful I am.

Fully aware of my own frivolity and baseness, I make no effort to change. Instead, I continue to deceive the world with superficial cleverness, just as I always have.

That’s why, when I’m confronted head-on with something genuine, like in this book, I’m completely lost.

My own ugliness, like rotten guts, is laid bare and I can’t sit still.

That said, there’s nothing I can do about this frivolity and baseness at this point. I’m getting on in years, after all. It’s as if I’m already half-dead.

Oh, this isn’t turning out to be a review of “The Right Half of Tokyo” at all. No, no, the true value of this book lies in the fact that it forces someone as arrogant and insolent as I am to lay bare such feelings of inferiority. So please accept this as a book review. The fact that this has unwittingly turned into a confession is entirely due to the overwhelming charm of this book.

By some stroke of fate, there’s a page in “The Right Half of Tokyo” where I appear. There’s a page showing my full figure, and there’s also a small cut showing just the side profile of my nose.

There are even pages where, even if you can’t see me, there’s a subtle connection.

At the photo shoot, and even outside of it, I naturally met with the author, Kyoichi Tsuzuki, and the editor, Ms. M, and exchanged a few words with them.

As the person in charge of producing “The Right Hand of Tokyo,” I’ve actually witnessed, albeit only in part, Ms. M.’s meticulous and energetic efforts behind the scenes, supporting the practical work and bringing it all together into this substantial volume.

By any standard, Ms. M. bravely, or perhaps nonchalantly, ventures into places that most people couldn’t possibly enter. She has incredible strength. I can’t hold a candle to her. I have no choice but to respect her.

An ordinary person like me, whenever I try to do even slightly better work, ends up wandering around trying to draw attention to myself. I can’t possibly be satisfied with just being the unsung hero behind the scenes. Ms. M., you really are an extraordinary person. The way you remain fully committed to your role “behind the scenes” and never show your face in the spotlight is truly modest and refined.

I believe that because the people behind the scenes remain unseen, the 108 lovable characters who appear in “The Right Half of Tokyo” and the 85 stories celebrating humanity breathe even more vividly. They fly, they leap, and they truly make their presence felt.

(By the way, Tsuzuki-san, you’re such a great photographer! You can really tell from these photos that you love your subjects!)

Oh my, I started writing this intending to be a private message to Ms. M., but before I knew it, I’d slipped back into my usual “Talking Theater” tone.

I suppose this is just another example of my less than noble character, someone who’s gotten by in this world with nothing but a lack of discipline and superficial cleverness.

Tsuzuki-san’s final piece in “The Right Half of Tokyo,” titled “In Place of an Afterword: Winter Wind, Carry the Voices of the Uprising to the Tower,” is beautiful.

I tried to write about exactly what makes it beautiful, but all I could come up with were cliched phrases, so I gave up.

P.S. To the readers of “Talking Theater.”

In this volume of “The Right Half of Tokyo,” there are over a dozen pages containing detailed depictions of the Sex Industry Museum, and it features a wealth of original artwork from the museum’s collection (which is incredibly valuable in itself). However, on a page completely unrelated to the Sex Industry Museum, would you believe it, Director Nakahara actually makes an appearance. And not just once, but twice!

So, where are they? Anyone who guesses correctly will receive a reward from Nureki Chimuo. You’ll never figure it out just by flipping through the book at a bookstore.