Ground Zero, Nagasaki: Stories
Yuichi Seirai
Language: English
Pages: 192
ISBN: 0231171161
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Set in contemporary Nagasaki, the six short stories in this collection draw a chilling portrait of the ongoing trauma of the detonation of the atomic bomb. Whether they experienced the destruction of the city directly or heard about it from survivors, the characters in these tales filter their pain and alienation through their Catholic faith, illuminating a side of Japanese culture little known in the West. Many of them are descended from the "hidden Christians" who continued to practice their religion in secret during the centuries when it was outlawed in Japan. Urakami Cathedral, the center of Japanese Christian life, stood at ground zero when the bomb fell.
In "Birds," a man in his sixties reflects on his life as a husband and father. Just a baby when he was found crying in the rubble near ground zero, he does not know who his parents were. His birthday is set as the day the bomb was dropped. In other stories, a woman is haunted by her brief affair with a married man, and the parents of a schizophrenic man struggle to come to terms with the murder their son committed. These characters battle with guilt, shame, loss, love, and the limits of human understanding. Ground Zero, Nagasaki vividly depicts a city and people still scarred by the memory of August 9, 1945.
always knew he had a deep faith. “Maybe that’s what we’ll hear in our hearts at the Last Judgment . . . Anyway, I was thinking about these things earlier as I looked out at the cross on the church, when suddenly I heard a voice say: enough. It was just me talking to myself, of course—but it reminded me of that time in school. It made up my mind.” I couldn’t really follow what he was saying, and I wasn’t sure how to respond. Instead, my tummy started rumbling. “What did you do about dinner?” “I
sex, I thought, raising my eyes to God in thanks. “Where do I stick it in?” I asked, but she just shook her head. “That’s not allowed,” she said. But I didn’t really mind. It felt nice cuddling in the dark, watching the mirror ball go round and round. But when my thirty minutes were up, Miyo went off to her next customer and I was left alone. I stood outside under a cheap plastic umbrella and waited for her to come out. “Come on, let’s go. It’s freezing,” the guy with me started grumbling.
the worn tatami. I felt something clinging around my cheeks and nose. I held my arms out in front of me but they didn’t touch anything. Broken strands of cobwebs hung in the air, thick with dust. Flicking through the gardening magazines, my wife came across a photograph that had been left between the pages. It was a picture of the two of them cutting the cake at their wedding reception. Kiyomi was holding a knife decorated with a bouquet and ribbon. Our son stood with his hand resting on top of
her hair bound in a white kerchief, her mouth open wide so that I could see her teeth as she wept and wailed. Sometimes that open mouth of hers appears in my dreams, like a gateway to another world. She carried me, wrapped in my blanket, into the tatami room at the back of the house. For a while she just wept. Then, still sobbing, she said the same thing my grandfather had said: “We’ll look after you. We’ll make sure you get better.” Using some of her precious stock of white rice and eggs, she
her hair bound in a white kerchief, her mouth open wide so that I could see her teeth as she wept and wailed. Sometimes that open mouth of hers appears in my dreams, like a gateway to another world. She carried me, wrapped in my blanket, into the tatami room at the back of the house. For a while she just wept. Then, still sobbing, she said the same thing my grandfather had said: “We’ll look after you. We’ll make sure you get better.” Using some of her precious stock of white rice and eggs, she