Shame in the Blood by Tetsuo Miura translated by Andrew Driver
Published by Shoemaker and Hoard
224 Pages
$24.95
Reviewed by Andrew Fersch
When a movie comes out, and it has a bunch of praise from reviewers that you’ve never heard of and know nothing about from obscure websites, if you have any common sense, you completely ignore that praise and judge it as best you can based on the other factors. Shoemaker and Hoard is that obscure website, proudly proclaiming that Shame in the Blood is “considered one of the finest love stories in Japanese literature” without crediting that to anyone, and until reading it, you pretty much just have to take their word for it.
Starting the story on the first date of a college student and a sake bartender as they go back to their haunting childhood homes together does prove to be intriguing, not necessarily rightfully so. The college student had a brother who died at the docks, most likely drowned, and the sake bartender grew up in a whorehouse. Textbook definition of an uplifting first date, especially since when they stop outside her old decrepit house, some portly ladies of the night threw their gum at them and cackled. Alas, this did not stop them (nor did the fact that much of what they told each other was untrue) from falling in love.
And as such, this, “one of the finest love stories” a terrific nation of writers has finally placed in America’s hands, turns out to be one of the most average love stories ever told. Now, understand this, it is incredibly realistic, and there are certainly pangs of true love throughout the story. And maybe it’s just being an American, where there is a more glamorous view of what love is, whereas maybe the Japanese are more realistic, and have an appreciation for a love where excitement isn’t integral, love really is just the small day to day realities. Whatever it is, is certainly isn’t like love stories from America.
And so the unnamed narrator and his love Shino trudge through life, finding and losing jobs, obtaining and then pawning property, conceiving and then aborting unwanted children. They struggle with poverty, with the death of their families together, with real life. It’s their ability to struggle together that makes this love, and although there is no glamour to it, it’s still awfully sweet and heartfelt at times.
There is a sixth section of the book, a completely unrelated short story which would be a cool little bonus, if the story itself wasn’t so unabashedly terrible. It’s the hidden song on the album which you expected so much from, and then only to find out it’s basically a track that had to be cut from the album because it wasn’t all that good in the first place.
Miura is talented as showing the world how it is; he has a knack for bringing the intricacies and subtle imperfections of life to the readers’ eyes. So for those readers who are tired of storybook endings, have no fear, he has come here to bring you back to the realities of life, in no harsh way, just in a way that is unavoidable. Miura brings the beauty of a glance towards a loved one after a loss, he brings the joy of the most inappropriate actions from a loved one who is dying, he brings real life to his writing, and that is something that is possible to love.