As the best-known foreign commentator on Japan and, arguably, the most important scholar of Japanese film from any country, Donald Richie is the grand old man of Tokyo letters. In this new collection of essays, the celebrated author takes on a new role: a travel writer visiting countries from Mongolia to Borneo, Egypt to Myanmar.

The American-born Richie has been in Tokyo too long to consider himself a traveler in his adopted land. When in other countries, however, he retains the curiosity of a beginner and the sense of wonder at what locals must consider completely mundane occurrences. Indeed, Richie refers to traveling as “that exhilarating state of being able to understand every moment something that back home we are lucky to experience once a month.” He does understand much during his travels and, luckily for us, is adept at sharing it.

Having so often met Richie in the pages of his journals as he watched Japanese films in darkened movie theaters, or as he interacted with some of the most prominent Japanese figures of the 20th century, it is disorienting to find him in the only airport in Bhutan, a small wooden building outside of which animals are tethered, or floating down the Nile in a boat while a boy, seeking tourist dollars, paddles by singing “Home on the Range.”

What makes Richie so valuable as a commentator on Japan is his ability to avoid writing about “the Japanese” or “Japanese customs,” preferring to give us literary snapshots of individuals he has met, which also serve to create and understanding of a larger cultural picture. His approach is the same when writing about Thailand or Vietnam.

Indeed, he refuses to make broad, overreaching generalizations, preferring to describe fleeting experiences and brief moments of observation. Richie never explains what brought him to the 14 countries he visits in the book, nor does he give details like whether he is traveling alone or with friends. In Myanmar, he notes the irony of impoverished children selling bootleg items to tourists — including the novel Burmese Day by socialist writer George Orwell. In Calcutta, he notices in the morning that some of the homeless who have been sleeping under the window of his luxury hotel room have moved on during the night, while others continue sleeping. After breakfast, he realizes that late risers have actually died in their sleep. He bemoans the rampant overdevelopment of Phuket while at the same time resigning himself to the fact that nothing can be done about it, as it is something the Thai people themselves want.

As a traveler, Richie is able to cast aside first impressions and look deep into the heart of a country. In Vietnam, he is uncomfortable both in socialist Hanoi and capitalist, Americanized Saigon. However, he finds his Vietnam in Hoi An, a city where cars are banned and outdoor cafés are plentiful. He’s also able to paint the look and feel of a place. His description of Bhutan, a country that most readers are likely to know nothing about, conveys its natural, unspoiled beauty. Richie achieves, seemingly effortlessly, what should be the goal of all travel writers: to not only describe a location as vividly as possible, but to inspire in the reader a desire to visit.

1 Comments

• 

  JeffLee at 09:11 AM JST - 24th August

  Odd that something who's lived so long in Tokyo and Japan bemoans Phuket's "overdevelopment." The population centers of Phuket are not pristine, But still, I can snorkel off the island's beaches and see thousands of fish, go jungle trekking, and wander along largely empty beaches that stretch for 10 kilometers or more in the island's north. And unlike in HOnshu, there isn't a concrete tetrapod or concrete embankment to be seen. Just white sand, palm trees and the odd vendor's shack.

Register or login to add a comment!