Tokyo Literary Masters: Starting from the Late 1980s

Chapter 75 The Literary Warfare

Faced with the voices of renowned figures Yoshio Takahashi and Kenzo Kita, the Kyoto faction, led by Tadashi Nijo, did not show any signs of anger or frustration.

On the contrary, they displayed a deep-rooted arrogance unique to the traditional literary world.

Instead of discussing the works objectively, they tacitly used columns in several long-established literary journals to steer the debate directly towards the hierarchy of literary backgrounds with a seemingly restrained but actually extremely sarcastic tone: "The urgent voices of Mr. Takahashi and Mr. Kitakata were actually expected."

"After all, writers who are used to creating in popular language are always more likely to resonate with the simple reading experience."

"Popular literature has its own mature commercial production line, which is full of suspense that caters to the market and deliberately created plot twists."

"But this is a completely different world from the pathos and blank spaces pursued by pure literature."

"Trying to understand the depth of pure literature with the mindset of creating commercial hits is a bit like talking to a brick wall."

At the end of the column, they even adopted a condescending attitude and gave a light but extremely damaging conclusion: "The endorsement of two best-selling authors is less a testament to Kitahara's literary talent than a show of solidarity within the popular literature circle."

"This precisely confirms Kitahara's true nature—he may become the most profitable popular novelist of this era, but that's all."

"His place will ultimately remain only on the best-selling bookshelves, for people to enjoy."

These seemingly mild but incisive remarks forced the entire literary debate into a stalemate known as the debate over birth.

The conservatives no longer argue with you, but instead directly invoke their superior standards of pure literature, collectively isolating all those who speak for Kitahara Iwa from the threshold of elegance.

They attempted to use this respectable yet arrogant method to permanently keep the entire popular literature world from the steps of the hall of fame without shedding a drop of blood.

However, the Kyoto School's indiscriminate attack, which denigrated the entire popular literature world as an assembly line and cheap ink, not only failed to calm the situation but also thoroughly enraged the vast number of popular novelists who were originally observing.

This is no longer just about Kitahara Iwa's gains and losses, but a blatant humiliation of all creators dedicated to popular reading by the traditional literary world.

Suddenly, the literary sections of major newspapers and periodicals were filled with a fierce atmosphere.

Numerous writers in the fields of mystery, period fiction, and science fiction have stepped in to write articles in response.

Among them, Go Osaka and Miyuki Miyabe, who highly praised Kitahara Iwao's works, spoke out the most frequently and with great conviction.

Osaka Tsuyoshi, who had already established himself in the literary world with "Red Star of Caddis," bluntly pointed out in the Yomiuri Shimbun: "Popularity is not the same as inferiority."

"The difficulty of crafting texts that can resonate with millions of readers and even change the way they see the world is no less than the difficulty of self-admiration in an ivory tower."

"To classify literature by the size of its audience or the type of subject matter is itself an arrogant regression."

At the time, Miyuki Miyabe was rising as a new star in the mystery genre, and she spoke out in support of Kitahara Iwa in several weekly magazine columns.

Her writing style is more sensitive and incisive than that of Takeshi Osaka: "The original intention of literature is to write for people to read, to convey vivid stories and emotions."

"If the price of so-called pure literature is to completely sever empathy with the masses of the times, leaving only lofty self-pity and wordplay, then what warmth does this elegance truly possess?"

Faced with a barrage of attacks from mainstream writers, the conservatives not only failed to reflect on their own actions, but instead offered a more condescending rebuttal through the opening remarks of a long-established literary magazine: "Ms. Miyabe's so-called empathy and warmth are nothing more than using shallow sentimentality to please the reader's senses."

"The reason why the temple of literature is sacred is precisely because it sets up thresholds for aesthetics and thought. It requires readers to climb upwards, rather than requiring authors to lower themselves to cater to the crude joys and sorrows of the streets and alleys."

At the end of their commentary, they even scathingly characterized the protests of the entire popular literature community as a kind of indignant outburst stemming from a lack of confidence: "If the highest standard of literature is to make it easily understandable and inspiring fervor among the general public, then 'Literature and Art' might as well be turned into a script discussion forum for popular TV dramas."

"The fact that popular writers are banding together so desperately exposes their inferiority complex when faced with truly high art, which is an attempt to use sales and empathy to cover up their lack of depth."

The collective backlash from popular writers clashed fiercely with the deep-seated sarcasm of conservatives, escalating the debate about highbrow versus lowbrow culture and threatening to drag the entire Japanese publishing industry into an endless war of words.

However, just as the arrogance of the traditional literary world was about to reach its peak, an unexpected heavyweight figure intervened in the dispute with an almost overwhelming force.

Shigeo Saito, a titan of Japanese documentary literature and journalism, has spoken out.

This gentleman, who had repeatedly ventured into the lowest levels of society and written powerful documentary works such as "The Wives' Autumn Period," and who enjoyed immense prestige among the public and intellectuals, published a powerful commentary in the Asahi Shimbun entitled "Flowers in a Greenhouse Have No Right to Laugh at Trees in the Snowstorm."

If Takahashi's work is self-reflection, Kita's is mockery, and Miyabe's is compassion, then Saito Shigeo's writing is a factual report based on irrefutable evidence.

In his article, Saito Shigeo did not engage in empty talk about literary theory with the Kyoto school. Instead, he presented a fact that caught all the conservatives off guard and left them speechless: "Not long ago, I met Kitahara-kun by chance while visiting the valley area of ​​Tokyo."

"In that corner where even the prosperity of this country cannot be seen, in this quagmire that even many self-proclaimed righteous media are unwilling to set foot in, I watched with my own eyes this young man whom you ridiculed as only knowing how to calculate business, wearing cheap old clothes, mingling with those poor people abandoned by the times."

"He personally experienced their precarious lives and felt how the lower class breathes and struggles."

"How could a writer who is willing to immerse himself in the mire of society's lowest echelons and personally experience the suffering of marginalized people not produce words full of flesh and blood and compassion?"

Then Saito Shigeo's pen took a turn, striking the heart of the conservatives: "And you critics who sit in your comfortable studies all year round, maintaining your sense of superiority by playing word games, have never really bent down to touch the rough edges of this era."

"What right does a group that refuses to even look down at the harsh realities have to use that self-righteous attitude to criticize a young writer who has truly shared the hardships of the poor for lacking depth?"

Public opinion erupted instantly.

Saito Shigeo's vivid and powerful questioning, like a heavy hammer, shattered the Kyoto faction's lofty dignity.

With an undeniable firsthand perspective, he stripped away the glamorous cloak of so-called pure literature, exposing the hypocrisy and arrogance of the conservatives to the public.

Public opinion has become increasingly turbulent due to Saito Shigeo's article.

Conservatives and supporters of popular literature continued their fierce verbal battles in the newspapers.

However, on the same afternoon, in Shinjuku, Tokyo.

A red postal motorcycle, accompanied by the monotonous sound of its engine, slowly came to a stop in front of the Kawade Shobo Shinsha building.

The young postman got off the vehicle and, as if completing countless ordinary deliveries, handed a heavy kraft paper envelope to the front desk.

The envelope bypassed a series of routine internal receiving and sending procedures, and finally, amidst the slight swaying of the manuscript delivery cart, quietly settled on the desk of the editor of "Literature and Art".

The envelope bore only two neatly written Chinese characters: "Love Letter".

Signed: Kitahara Iwa.

The moment the sender's name was seen, a barely suppressed murmur of commotion erupted in the editorial department, where the only sounds were the rustling of pages being turned.

"It's only been less than a week, right? Kitahara-sensei has already submitted the manuscript?"

A young editor in charge of layout couldn't help but gasp, his tone clearly showing surprise.

"To complete a novella on a given topic in just one week—isn't that too fast?"

The senior editor next to him pushed up his glasses, a deep worry showing on his face, and said, "The public opinion is at a critical juncture right now. If the quality is flawed even slightly due to rushing to meet deadlines, those in the pure literature field will definitely bite us like sharks that have smelled blood."

"Probably not—don't forget the comment posted by Mr. Saito Shigeo."

Another assistant editor shook his head and said softly, "A journalistic giant like Mr. Saito, who has seen the real hardships of the world, personally endorsed this, proving that he has truly immersed himself in the valley region. There is no way he would hand over a perfunctory, hastily written piece at this critical juncture."

"Therefore, I think the quality of this article is absolutely astonishing."

All the editors who were initially watching with a detached, spectator's mindset, or filled with trepidation, unconsciously stopped what they were doing.

They held their breath and slowly gathered around the editor-in-chief's desk, their eyes all focused on the envelope that was stirring up the entire literary world.

The editor-in-chief, with a full head of silver hair and a solemn expression, took out his reading glasses from his breast pocket, put them on, and then picked up the paper cutter on the table.

Swish!

As the seal was neatly cut open, a stack of manuscript paper, faintly scented with ink, was pulled out.

The editor-in-chief and many other editors also turned their attention to the text.

The policeman sneered, lit a cigarette, and stood in front of Goro, exhaling white smoke as if protecting him in the eyes of the passersby.

Your wife is dead.

Goro didn't immediately grasp the meaning of those words and looked confused.

"My lord, think carefully about your wife. She is your wife."

"Oh, really?"

Goro could only stammer in response.

When talking about his wife, he was definitely referring to the foreigner who came to Japan to work.

Last summer, a member of a yakuza gang with whom he had a good relationship asked him for a favor, so Goro added that woman's name to his household registration.

"This morning, the Chiba Prefectural Police called and, well, what did they say again—"

The detective opened the notebook: "Byakuran, that's a good name. A woman named Takano Byakuran died of illness, and they want you to collect her ashes."