Drafts by Jennifer Cullen
Can I Buy You? 1. Upon hearing that Count Sugino's visit had been about her betrothal, Ruriko sto... more Can I Buy You? 1. Upon hearing that Count Sugino's visit had been about her betrothal, Ruriko stopped short as though struck by lightning. Her childish imagination had been right after all. Count Sugino had come to make a proposal on behalf of his son directly. Doubtless, during their conversation, some careless words or proud mannerisms of the Count had angered her sensitive father. At this thought, Ruriko grew resentful of her overly scrupulous father. He was stubborn and uncompromising. Her father's attitude, which might ruin her whole life, was hateful. Ruriko reproached him, "How can a proposal be insulting to me? And for such a conversation, even if it is to be refused in the end, shouldn't I be included as well?" Ruriko was capable of standing up for herself to anyone, and she could not help but stand up for herself to her father, her brother, or even a lover. Her father laughed pitilessly at Ruriko's objection. "Proposal! Ha! If it was a normal proposal, of course I would consult with you. But what that man proposed was to buy you, under the name of "proposal." He bundled up his money to come to buy you. Nonsense! My daughter!" Her father's eyes sparkled madly with anger. Ruriko had nothing to say to this, but wondered who could have been the proposed groom for such a proposition. "Sugino came and asked for my daughter. I don't like him, but since he came all the way here I couldn't turn him down flat, I thought. But then he started talking about the man who would be your groom. Making fun of us! A man of 45 with two children by his former wife. I shouted at him. And then Sugino, slyly, said that he would give me 300,000 Yen for my trouble. I stood up in anger and threw him out of the room." Her father's voice shook. "In all my years I have never been so insulted. We are penniless. Thirty years after the Restoration, both my home and my lands are mortgaged. But would I sell my own daughter for 300,000 Yen or even a billion?" Her father was so worked up it was painful to look at him. His elderly body so tense it seemed about to shatter under the strain of his violent fury. Ruriko was also distraught. It was only right that her father would be upset, but she couldn't think of anything to say to calm him down. What sort of grudge did Count Sugino have to insult her elderly father in this way? At this thought, a rage fit to tear her breast rose up in Ruriko. And as it was her lover's father, it was accompanied by a helpless sorrow. "That man would stoop to any depth for money. Ever since he joined the government's Industry and Commerce Association he thinks only of money. He was probably going to make a good commission if today's discussion of your marriage had been successful. Ha!" Switching from anger to contempt, her father burst into bitter laughter. "By the way, Ruriko, you have met the person who is asking for your hand. It's Shoda, the man who gave that garden party." Her father said this without thinking anything of it, but when she heard the name Shoda, Ruriko immediately recalled his intense, and frightening glare, like a leopard. Though Ruriko was calm and proud, her entire body was overcome by shivers at the unpleasant sense of a demon's breath on her cheek.
Madame Pearl Chapter 4 Kikuchi Kan
Ch. 4 The Spider Queen Shinichiro was led into a vast, bright room facing a garden of green leave... more Ch. 4 The Spider Queen Shinichiro was led into a vast, bright room facing a garden of green leaves. A mahogany table had been set upon a blue, floral-patterned carpet and was surrounded by five or six armchairs with blue cushions. The cushions on a reclining sofa by the wall were also blue as were the curtains. The blues reflected off the surrounding white-papered walls and gave the room a summery, refreshing feel. Shinichiro sat on a chair as instructed, with his back to the door, and looked around at the decor calmly. Mew oil paintings had been hung on three of the walls. To his left was a nude by Mizutani, an emergent western-style artist who had earned quite a reputation upon his exhibition the previous year. In this, the bare-naked body of a timid young girl was immersed up to the knees in a cold-looking spring. The hanging of a nude in her reception room indicated that the mistress of this house was not a slave to convention. Everything here, from the ashtray on the table to the clock and a flower-filled vase on the mantel, seemed to reflect the delicate and keen tastes of the mistress. The sound of the piano did not resume, but neither did the player appear. Nor did he hear anyone approach after the boy had brought his tea. Three minutes passed, five minutes, then ten. Shinichiro gradually grew anxious and then irritated. It was vexing-it had been imprudent to impulsively visit this lady, whom he had only barely glimpsed, without an introduction. Suddenly he noticed that he could see his own face in the mirror above the mantel. As he was staring blankly at his own face, he heard the swishing sound of silk as the door behind him opened silently. As he hurriedly tried to stand, the pale, beautiful face reflected in the mirror smiled coquettishly in greeting. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but I hadn't even changed after the funeral." Her voice was familiar and flirtatious, as though she were talking to an old friend, and didn't even consider him a man. The charm and beauty of that voice! Shinichiro was confused at first, having been granted such unexpected intimacy. "No, I shouldn't have come without notice…" he replied. His voice was oddly high and he blushed like a schoolboy. The lady, wearing a brocade kimono of ocean blue, fastened by a swallowtailpatterned obi in black and green, eased her long, slim body into a chair like a snake. "It was truly a gorgeous funeral. But it is unbearable that Jun should die such an unexpected death. So sudden, it is like a dream. " Without even exchanging the usual first-time greetings with her guest, the lady continued to speak without reserve. Beaten to the punch, Shinichiro sat speechless for a moment, unable to think or clearly answer. The lady was relaxed and cheerful as though she didn't notice his confusion. "Jun was only 24, and he was a Saturn. Was he like a Saturn, I wonder? Like me, he often read the horoscopes in the newspaper. Ha ha ha ha…" Entranced by her beauty as though caught in the silken threads of a beautiful spider, Shinichiro sat blankly for a while. 2. There was no sign, not a shadow, of mourning in the lady's bright expression. She merely appeared a bit sad that an acquaintance had died, as though he had been someone of shallow importance to her. Shinichiro was taken aback. Was it his misunderstanding that the youth, calling out the name Ruriko in his dying moment, had had a deep relationship with her? Was he in fact no more than a slight acquaintance for whom she felt only a mild sorrow, as her appearance and behavior indicated? With these doubts, Shinichiro grew ashamed of his rash, dramatic actions, suddenly visiting the lady under the influence of a few words, which might have been merely the delirious cries of a dying boy, and his own imagination. The words he had planned to say if he had a chance to meet the lady stuck in his throat and he could only sit in silent agitation. "I got the time completely mixed up today. When I realized this, it was already past 3:00. Startled, I raced over there in the car. It was quite awkward, arriving so late."
Chapter 3 of Madame Pearl, by Kikuchi Kan, 1920
Chapter 2 of Madame Pearl, Kikuchi Kan
Translation of Kikuchi Kan, Madame Pearl, 1920 (Chapter 1)
Trans. By Jennifer Cullen CHAPTER ONE ORIGIN OF THE TALE "A grande passion is the privilege of pe... more Trans. By Jennifer Cullen CHAPTER ONE ORIGIN OF THE TALE "A grande passion is the privilege of people who have nothing to do" -Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Grey It may appear at first glance that those who conceal their emotions are satisfied with the roll of invulnerable observer. Yet such people in particular carry the mysteries and romances of the modern age in their hearts and are led to unexpected, archaic tragedy. The dark chambers of their firmly shuttered hearts play the role of the dungeons of ancient castles in fairy tales; the gulf between their hearts and others becomes the dangerous dark moat that the adventurer must swim across. The hero of our glorious ancient tragedies -a courageous young man wounded by a disappointed love for another man's wife, his fevered blood extinguished in the prison dew -would today become a mediocre success, his impulsiveness granting him a long life of revelry. If the romantic tragedy enacted by external events were transferred to the inner heart, it would appear to others nothing more than a quixotic comedy. Therein lies the modern significance of tragedy. Thus, a strange tragic epic presents itself through a self-concealing character; a character, for example, like Akihide Fujimura. Having tired of the scenery of the Gora Mountain chalet, the Countess Fujimura spent the summer in a hotel on the S plain with her son. The Count went to Gora as usual, alone. The hotel on S plain had only just been built. In the style of a small mountain inn, it was also open in the winter for skiing. The front lawn of the hotel fell away in a gentle slope down to a large pond. From the second floor windows one looked down at the reflection of clouds and the Japanese Alps on the surface of the pond. The countess' son Akihide had graduated from Gakushuin University's Department of Japanese Literature that spring. Akihide had been raised in generous circumstances. As was the family custom, he traveled with his parents during each school vacation. The diaries Akihide presented to his teachers at Gakushuin Elementary School at the end of each trip were the most overstuffed with colored pencil sketches and picture postcards of all the students. A taciturn youth, Akihide was thought to be extremely promising. On the other hand, he was also considered extremely unreliable. Perhaps that very unreliability was his promising point. His was an unstable resoluteness; the misplaced courage occasionally displayed by those too well behaved. On the morning of the tenth day of their stay at the hotel, Akihide came out to the lobby with his mother and wanly flipped through the pages of the English tourist guides spread out on the countertop. It appeared that summer at S plain that summer would pass through the high skies on sparkling wings without settling on earth. In the fireplace, white birch burnt in lovely color. The moment Akihide shifted his gaze toward the glass doors that looked out on the far mountain range, a bee-like buzzing was heard from the scenic garden. He exchanged a dubious glance with his mother. It was no doubt a car rolling up the steep hill opposite the pond. The sixteen or seventeen-year-old bellboy who had been joking with the man at the front office rushed out through the glass doors and then came in again saying, "I bet it's the Harada's."
Friendship, 2019
English translation of 友情 (Friendship) by Mushanokoji Saneatsu, 1919.
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Drafts by Jennifer Cullen