Nureki Chimuo Archive

To Akiyoshi Otaguro-san.

This morning, as I was flipping through the morning paper and looking at the classifieds, I came across an announcement of an upcoming book from the publishing company where you’ve started working.

When I read it, I thought, “Ah, so that’s it,” and “Hmm, I see.”

And (if I may say so), my trust in you grew significantly.

To be honest, up until now, I’d thought you were just pursuing some sort of dream of your own, all on your own. I’d thought you were the kind of person whose head was full of nothing but hopes and dreams, with no sense of reality (again, my apologies).

Reading this publisher’s ad, I can clearly see that it perfectly matches the literary world you envision.

And I was truly impressed that you managed to find and join such a, shall we say, niche, low-key publishing house.

Especially in these tough job market times. I feel like I wrote about the saying “Where there’s a will, there’s a way” just the other day, but it came to mind again.

For a weak-willed person like me, someone with low aspirations who gives up on everything so easily, someone with your tenacious spirit is truly worthy of my respect.

In an era like this, where so many publishers are solely focused on the pursuit of profit, a company like the one you joined, one that publishes only down-to-earth, unassuming, and, so to speak, understated books, seems like a truly precious entity.

If you’ll forgive my colloquial expression, I’m simply amazed that you managed to find a publisher like this and successfully “sneak your way in” (my apologies again!). Isn’t this exactly the right publisher for you?

I wouldn’t go so far as to call it “understated,” but it reminds me of the atmosphere at Kubo Shoten, a small company where I once worked. Yes, that’s right, Kubo Shoten, where Haruo Shimamoto wrote novels, Yoji Muku painted, Minomura Ko both wrote novels and painted, and I worked, all under the same roof.

Going even further back, I was reminded of the small publishing company where my father worked during the era when the Pacific War was intensifying.

It was also located in a corner of Kanda’s publishing district. When I’d stop by that small editorial department on my way home from school, the editors, fewer than ten of them, would dote on me, treating me to sweet red bean soup and taking me on group hikes on their days off.

I still remember how much fun it was when, on our hikes to Chichibu and Nagatoro, we’d all walk along singing in unison “Junjo Duet” by Mieko Takamine, which was popular at the time.

Believe it or not, the company’s employee trip was a climb up Mount Fuji, and I was invited to join them. Unlike today, we climbed step by step starting from the first station.

There were three or four female employees as well, and spending the night huddled together in a mountain hut near the summit was a lot of fun.

The joy of the close-knit, family-like relationships among the employees at that small publishing house in Kanda-Jimbocho remains vivid in my memory to this day.

A few years later, after the war, the publishing house that put out the monthly magazine “Fuzoku Kitan” was also located very close to the company where you would later work.

In addition to “Fuzoku Kitan,” that publishing house also published a fiction magazine modeled after Futabasha’s club magazines, and I wrote mystery-style short stories for every issue of that magazine as well. This was before I started working at Kubo Shoten. The young man who edited this magazine was a passionate literary enthusiast, and he gave me plenty of stern encouragement and guidance, teaching me a great deal. The magazine ceased publication after about a year and a half. You probably can’t get a copy of it anymore. I don’t have one myself either.

This morning, as I was flipping through the morning paper, I happened to catch sight of a small ad that introduced me to part of the sales catalog from the publishing house where you work, and it made me want to congratulate you all over again.

But I wanted to hear about this publishing house directly from you. How happy I would have been if you could have sent me some information about their publications, for example.

That said, a publisher that would compile a collection of Udao Oshita’s novels and release it with a list price of 3,780 yen is, of course, a source of great joy for me. Still, I can’t help but worry about how many copies will actually sell.

It must be a publisher that operates on the principle of “we publish because we want to, not for profit.” I find that very reassuring.

Please do publish a collection of masterful short stories titled “Uramado.” I’d be delighted to assist you.

Since progress on “The Tengu’s Mischief: Continued” continues to be slow, I wrote four short play scripts partly to get the project moving again. These are for a theater company I’m involved with, and they’re basically like skits.

I also wrote a short essay out of necessity. I wrote this with the same intention of getting the creative juices flowing. Neither the scripts nor the essay have anything to do with SM.

I’m sending you these unedited drafts.

If you don’t think you need them, feel free to throw them away. I have copies on my end.

I’ve just finished writing two essays for my monthly serialized column (these are SM-related pieces) and have finally caught my breath.

From here on out, I plan to get back to work on “The Tengu’s Mischief: Continued,” which has been stalled.

I managed to write the opening part quite entertainingly, but the crucial incident hasn’t happened yet.

I’m struggling with how to write the beginning of that incident.

yet.

I have a feeling this period of struggling and tossing and turning will continue for a while

I’ll take encouragement from having readers like you and do my best to keep writing.