Reviewed by: 47: The True Story of the Vendetta of the 47 Ronin from Akō by Thomas Harper Jeroen Lamers 47: The True Story of the Vendetta of the 47 Ronin from Akō. By Thomas Harper. Sedgwick, ME: Leete's Island Books, 2019. 992 pages. Softcover, $29.95. "Hear ye, hear ye!" With his long-awaited tome on the vendetta of the forty-seven ronin, or "masterless samurai," Tom Harper has written what is at one and the same time a fastidious work of historical reconstruction and a transcendent historical novel. This is history as literature and vice versa. Like very few before (and, most likely, after) him, Harper succeeds brilliantly in fully conveying what makes Japanese history so fascinating. The book's grand sweep, myriad detail, and depiction of deeply relatable human experience reflect Harper's vast knowledge about the vendetta, whose story in broad-brush terms will be known to many. The outstanding characteristic of 47 is its relentless narrative thrust. Short chapters help to keep the pace fast. The book charges forward to its gruesome denouement, giving a strong sense that there is ever more to find out in this gripping yet catastrophic story. Harper indulges us with copious, meticulous detail that he distributes judiciously throughout the book, thereby avoiding a sense of excess. He expertly initiates readers into contemporary customs, scenes, rooms, processions, travel arrangements, modes of transport, formal exchanges, festivities, emissaries, felicitations, gourmet edibles, ceremonies, rites, entertainment, displays, exchanges, the minutiae of court lore, and much more (see, for example, pp. 15–33). Harper's previous work on The Tale of Genji is echoed in the current book, and once again there is much to be admired, if not imbibed: his flowing style, the reach and depth of his vocabulary, and his deployment of flawless and evocative English names for contemporary Japanese titles, physical structures, clothing, utensils, and the like. His knowledge of the Tokugawa bureaucratic machinery and style of governance is unmatched. The whole book oozes with love for the historical record of the masterless forty-seven and, indeed, for the protagonists themselves and their warrior code. Only very occasionally does his detailed knowledge less than fully support the narrative—as in the account of the continental roots of Takebayashi Tadashichi (pp. 373–79), which struck this reviewer as interesting but slightly superfluous. In the preface, Harper introduces the reader to Ōhashi Yoshizō, a historical but little-known literary figure, raised among samurai, who lived from 1859 to probably into the 1940s and who acts as the narrative voice for the remainder of the book. Harper's decision to tell his story through Ōhashi succeeds unexpectedly well; this reviewer was skeptical at first, only to be wholly won over. Instead of adding more complexity to what was always going to be a story with many moving parts, the narrative construct brings immediacy and authenticity to the text. One could argue that the ploy leads to some loss of analytical edge. Yet for better or for worse, Harper has ostensibly painted himself out of the picture, and in return the reader enjoys a front-row seat, up close to the action. And the performance is so grand and captivating that doubts almost naturally fade into the background. [End Page 373] At regular intervals throughout the book, the narration drops hints of what lies in store—"Much worse was soon to come" (p. 231), or "We shall get to know this man better further in our tale" (p. 576). This technique evokes the atmosphere of a classical adventure novel while also helping to build tension and anticipation. The maximum effect is achieved when Harper's narrator steps forward as he delivers these hints. One such example occurs on page 432, in relation to the unknown fate of Ōishi Kuranosuke's pregnant mistress, Okaru: "I expect that Kuranosuke returned her to her father, Nimonjiya Jirōzaemon, generously rewarded I would hope; but what became of her thereafter, no one knows." Though it is perhaps not surprising given his scholarly credentials, Harper still merits note and praise for the deft command he exercises over a vast repertoire of original documents, often letters from the ronin themselves, to give...
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