Interview with Samuel Hawley, Author of The Imjin War --Part One

On behalf of the Samurai Archives, I’m pleased to be interviewing Samuel Hawley, author of The Imjin War: Japan’s Sixteenth Century Invasion of Korea and Attempt to Conquer China . Samuel Hawley spent 20 years living in Japan and then Korea, where he was an instructor at Yonsei University and a member of the governing council of the Korean branch of the Royal Asiatic Society. Like most of the membership of the Samurai Archives, Samuel Hawley is an amateur historian—which is what makes his The Imjin War and the amount of research that went into preparing the book that much more inspirational and endearing. Hawley is now residing in Canada and has devoted himself to writing full-time. His other works include America’s Man in Korea: The Private Letters of George C. Foulk, 1884–1887, Inside the Hermit Kingdom: The 1884 Korea Travel Diary of George Clayton Foulk, Help Wanted: Korea and the forthcoming Speed Duel: The Inside Story of the Land Speed Record in the Sixties .

At the time of the publication of this interview, The Imjin War is not available directly from Amazon.com, but can be ordered new from Han Books for US$72.17 by clicking on the following link.
http://www.hanbooks.com/imwajasiinof.html


SA: Sam, it’s a pleasure to have you here with us for this interview.
SH: Thanks for your interest in The Imjin War. It’s a pleasant surprise that there are still people out there who want to talk about it.

SA: To start things off, when you were living in Japan, were you drawn to samurai and Japanese history?
SH: During the time I lived in Japan (1988-1994), I was interested more generally in the culture than specifically in Japanese history. I loved things like sumo (especially hanging around heya), yakatabune (those pleasure boats that you dine on), tsuribori (urban fishing ponds) and spent many happy afternoons out taking photos and doing research for magazine articles. In Tokyo there are neat and quirky things to discover in just about every corner.

I moved on to Seoul in 1995 and lived there until 2007. That’s where I wrote The Imjin War. It was actually a bit of a homecoming for me, for I’d grown up in Korea. I was born in Pusan in 1960 (my parents were missionaries), we moved to Seoul when I was about 2 and stayed there until I was 14. So my awareness of the Imjin War goes back a long way, back to when I was a kid in the ‘60s. I can remember my parents even had a model of Yi Sun-sin’s turtle ship in a glass case.

SA: Prior to the publication of your book, not a whole lot about the Imjin War, better known as the Bunroku to Keichō no Eki in Japanese, was available in English. There were some writings by Geo. H. Jones at the turn of the 20th century, Stephen Turnbull’s Samurai Invasion and a couple of other publications about Admiral Yi and his turtle boats. In essence, this conflict is probably the true “forgotten Korean war” when it comes to exposure in the West. Why do you suppose that until Turnbull, you and Swope came onto the scene in the past 8 years or so, there hasn’t been much written about the Imjin War in the West?
The first problem was the language barrier. When I was writing The Imjin War (I started in 1999), Turnbull’s Samurai Invasion wasn’t out (I already finished my book when I stumbled on it on Amazon.com) and neither was Choi Byonghyon’s Chingbirok translation. There was in fact very little material on the subject available in English. I ended up studying Korean to attain some basic reading skills, then went through umpteen volumes of Sonjo sillok and other Korean-language works with the help of a native Korean translator. I did that for two years—spending my own money on the translation help, by the way. It entailed a heck of a lot of work, more than most people would be willing to do for a payout of little more than personal satisfaction.

I speaking of course of amateur historians such as myself, taking on a project like this on the side for personal enjoyment. It’s different for academics. For them, penning a scholarly tome can be the route to tenure and a pretty good living as a professor, so there’s an incentive. So why didn’t some history professor with much better language skills than me write a book on the Imjin War first? The reason, I think, is that the topic is too big, too wide-ranging for an academic to tackle. Academics tend to choose very narrow topics to specialize in (i.e. “The Impact of the Imjin War on Rice Production in Cholla Province”), then spend the rest of their careers protecting this little quarter-acre of ground. It’s the safe approach. I mean, once you become the foremost expert on Cholla rice production in the 1590s as it relates to the war, no one is going to be able to criticize your work, right? No one can “Swope” you. But if you try to write a book about the whole Imjin War, you’re going to be writing about rice in Cholla and a thousand other things. And since a single person can’t be the foremost authority on such a wide range of topics (Korean history, Japanese history, Chinese history, battle tactics, Korean/Chinese/Japanese court intrigues, East Asian diplomacy, battleship construction, etc., etc.) it means taking a big creative risk and courting criticism and maybe even falling flat on your face.

SA: But in my eyes and the eyes of others, it was worth the risk. I thought the book was fantastic and many of us here at the SA learned a tremendous amount from it. But what made you want to write about this conflict?
SH: My first idea actually had been to do a biography of Yi Sun-sin, for I thought I could improve on the two English-language works then in existence. That was in early 1999. When I realized there was no book in English on the Imjin War as a whole, I broadened my focus. It ended up being a far, far bigger job than I ever imagined.

So why did I set out to write the book? Well, I wasn’t an academic trying to carve out a niche as a scholar, so the above concerns about taking risks didn’t mean anything to me. I did it because I wanted something intellectually challenging to do, and I wanted the satisfaction of writing a book. It was as simple as that.

I’d like to point out here that I didn’t set out to write a scholarly book on the Imjin War, because I didn’t—and I still don’t—consider myself an expert on anything. My objective was just to tell the amazing story of this war, which hadn’t been fully told before in English and which scarcely anyone in the West knew about. (Again, I finished writing the book in 2003, the year Turnbull’s Samurai Invasion came out, and long before Swope.) The book, you’ll note, is narrative history, not a dissertation. In other words, its purpose is to “tell the story,” not to advance any particular core thesis. That it ended up in the scholarly realm, which I hadn’t intended, was entirely due to the fact that it was the only way I could get it published.

SA: You had mentioned in other correspondence that you had trouble finding a publisher for The Imjin War. Why do think this was the case? Was it because this topic is still considered controversial considering the sometimes cankerous triangular relationship that exists between China, Korea and Japan?
SH: My difficulty in finding a publisher had nothing to do with the controversy surrounding the subject. Here’s the story:

Since I had written The Imjin War as a narrative history for general readers, I wanted to get an agent who could place it with a mainstream publisher. I failed. The consensus was that a book of this nature wouldn’t sell. (“Korean history? Who the hell wants to read about that?”) I was also told it was too long. The only agent to actually look at the manuscript (all the others turned me down at the query letter stage) concluded that he might be interested...if I rewrote the book to beef up the Japanese side of the story and cut back on the Korean. My emphasis on the Korean perspective, he figured, would not be popular with potential publishers. (By the way, I initially entitled the book “The First Korean War.”)

After banging my head against that wall for a while, I started contacting university presses. That earned me a whole bunch of rejections. Nobody—nobody—would even look at the manuscript. The problem here was obvious: I wasn’t a history professor, but just an English teacher. And I didn’t have a PhD, just an MA. (In history from Queen’s University in Kingston, Ontario, by the way.) It was very much a case of judging a book by the author’s CV.

The fact that The Imjin War was published at all was due to a series of lucky breaks combined with my own hustling. The only outfit to express any interest in the book had been the Royal Asiatic Society of Korea. They couldn’t publish it, though, because they didn’t have the money. What they did do was invite me to speak before the Society on the topic (in Nov. 2003, I think it was). In the audience was Yoo Kang-ha, secretary of the So-ae Memorial Foundation, a part of Poongsan Corporation. (So-ae was the nom de plume of Yu Song-nyong, Korean prime minister during the Imjin War. The chairman of Poongsan Corp. is a direct descendent of So-ae.) Anyway, I ended up receiving a publishing grant from Poongsan for The Imjin War. (Note: this financial backing did not color how I wrote the book. It was already written by this point.) This grant was enough to cover roughly half the cost of publication. By this time the RAS had invited me to join their governing council and elected me publications chairman. The first book I shepherded through the press for them was Elizabeth Underwood’s Challenged Identities, which the RAS fully funded. I then showed them how we could publish my book, The Imjin War, without it costing the RAS a penny, funding it with the Poongsan grant and money out of my own pocket. The council liked the idea. I then approached the Institute of East Asian Studies Press at UC Berkeley, which had previously turned the book down, and offered them a co-publication deal that would similarly not cost them a cent. They liked the idea and signed on and took editorial oversight of the project. I then did all the grunt work myself: I did the camera-ready copy, I made the maps, I designed the cover, I made the index, I liaised with the printer, and I provided all the money, the Poongsan grant plus my own dough, a total of around $11,000. After all this, I declined to use the RAS’s standard publishing contract, as I felt this would be grossly unfair to me. I instead drafted a contract myself whereby I received the lion’s share of the profits and retained full rights to the book. This was okay with the RAS because they ended up making a tidy sum of money without having to invest anything or take any risk.

The Imjin War eventually sold out its first print run of 2,000 copies, and is now on its second printing. Pretty paltry sales, but not too bad considering that the book received absolutely no marketing or publicity. I still retain full rights to the book, and I am free to republish it in any way I see fit.

SA: Well, we hope to see it back in print and marketed properly so it can reach a larger audience. But let’s get into some questions regarding the origin of the conflict itself. You touched upon some of the theories in your book, but why do you think Hideyoshi ordered the invasion of Korea?
SH: With something as big as the invasion of Korea, there had to have been multiple factors at work. In my book I discuss, I think, five of them. I don’t think it was a case of, “One of these five factors might have motivated Hideyoshi.” I suspect several driving factors were at work. Hideyoshi, after all, was a supreme strategist; he would have been thinking on several levels, weighing advantages and disadvantages. To say “Hideyoshi invaded Korea for this reason” is to frame the thing too simply. Hideyoshi wasn’t playing checkers. He was playing chess.

Let me just insert here that The Imjin War is the distillation of my understanding of the topic as of 2003, when I finished writing it. I’m answering these questions now without referring to the book, as I don’t want to just rehash what I’ve already written and what I was thinking back then. Because of the passage of time, and because I’ve moved on to other topics, what I answer here may vary from what I wrote in the book. I may even contradict myself. But hey, so what? As we go on we learn new things and adjust our previous conceptions. So be warned that I’m just throwing musings out there; that these musings might stray from what I wrote in The Imjin War—and that anything I wrote then and say now could be dead wrong.

SA: Kenneth Swope, in his new book A Dragon’s Head and a Serpent’s Tail, refers to a theory that appeared in Samuel Dukhae Kim’s PhD dissertation that Hideyoshi initiated the war in order to weaken the power of the Kyushu-based Christian daimyo as Hideyoshi wanted to eradicate Christianity in Japan. How much stock do you put in Kim’s theory? Do you think it is plausible?
SH: I guess it’s plausible, another possible motivating factor to add to the mix. But I wouldn’t give it too much weight, and I certainly wouldn’t say it was the reason. To begin with, using Kyushu-based forces for the invasion made perfect sense because these forces were the closest to Korea. It was also in line with the pattern of conquest that Hideyoshi had already established in his unification of Japan: using the forces nearest the target to spearhead the conquest of that target.

Again, Hideyoshi in his strategizing and long-term planning would have been considering several factors. Weakening the Kyushu-based Christian daimyo may have been one of the things he placed on the scales. Or maybe it was just an unplanned benefit of the expediency of using Kyushu-based forces.

SA: What was the ultimate reason, in your opinion, for Korea’s utter lack of preparation for the invasion? Did they really think that Japanese talk of invading China via Korea was mere bluster?
SH: Even if the Koreans had managed to make better preparations, the Japanese likely would still have swept up the peninsula regardless. In other words, the Koreans were perhaps inherently incapable of resisting the power of Hideyoshi’s invasion force because of the way the country was set up. First, there was the fact that generals were kept separate from their armies except in times of crisis. This was considered necessary to prevent them from becoming too independently strong and possibly attempting a coup. The founder of the Choson dynasty, Yi Songgye, had been a general himself and had seized power, and he didn’t want another general doing the same to his new dynasty. Hence the expedient of separating generals from armies. It was definitely a stupid idea in terms of military preparedness in the face of an external threat. The fact remains, however, that the Choson dynasty lasted from 1392 on into the 20th century—so clearly it made sense in terms of internal stability. It was a case, in short, of sacrificing the ability to repel an external threat in order to guard against threats from within. It was a good trade-off most of the time—but a disaster in the face of the extraordinary threat posed by Hideyoshi.

About the Koreans mistakenly regarding Hideyoshi’s threats as bluster: It’s hard to overstate the enormity of what Hideyoshi was proposing to do, at least in the eyes of the Koreans. It wasn’t just a case of one country threatening to conquer another. Hideyoshi was threatening to conquer, as the Koreans saw it, the center of the world. To put it in modern terms, it might have been like Chavez in Venezuela threatening to conquer the USA. Well, maybe not quite like that. But you see what I’m saying. The threat seems obvious to us now. But if we put ourselves back in that Korean court and try to look at things like a late-16th century Korean, it becomes easier to see how Hideyoshi’s threats could have been discounted as bluster.

Another thing to consider is the innate inability of Korea’s Confucian scholar-led system to deal with the ruthless military efficiency of Japan. In Japan, the military had evolved for maximum effectiveness thanks to a century of civil war. There were no soft-palmed scholars getting in the way, no trappings or niceties to trip over. In Japan it was all about military efficiency. The same could not be said about Korea. As noted above, the Koreans in effect hobbled their military (separating generals from their armies) to guard against internal threats. Still more hobbling was effected by the Korean—and in turn Chinese—notion of the supremacy of a scholar class; the notion that mastery of the Confucian classics, as evidenced by passing the government exam, equipped a man to do just about anything—including things he knew little about, like overseeing armies. So you had this situation in Korea where military professionals were often being second-guessed by scholars who sometimes didn’t know what they were doing, but who assumed that they did because they knew the classics.

(We can’t be too critical of the Koreans here, for the same situation exists in Washington DC and just about every any other Western capital today: governments growing bigger and bigger, with officials thinking they know better than the professionals how to run things. There is actually the notion that government officials are somehow more virtuous than professionals in the private sector. It’s a mindset that would have been quite at home in King Sonjo’s Confucian-scholar government in 1592.)

SA: But based on Korea’s experience with previous devastating Japanese-led pirate (wako) raids, was the Korean court really naïve in thinking that the “robber-dwarves” posed no serious threat?
SH: Naïve? I don’t know. In hindsight, they were certainly mistaken. But again, we should try to look at it from the Koreans’ perspective, considering their time, their mindset, and the information available to them. What Hideyoshi said he was going to do, march through Korea and conquer China, was really huge. It would have been easy, being a Korean and without the benefit of hindsight, to have discounted this as just a lot of hot air, an attempt to intimidate Korea. To put it in perspective, let’s draw a parallel to Iran today. President Dinner-Jacket threatens, “Do such-and-such or we will destroy Israel!” Or North Korea’s Dear Leader: “Cave in to my demands or you will feel my wrath!” Don’t we tend to brush aside such threats? And then something like 9-11 happens and everyone says, “Why were we so blind? Who dropped the ball? Who can we blame?” The moral: everything is clear in hindsight.

SA: Considering it was the ineptitude of the royal court and partisan politics that led to Korea’s ill-preparedness for the invasion, why do you suppose that the Korean people stuck with King Sonjo and the Choson Dynasty after the cessation of hostilities? One would think that there would have been enough popular discontent and anger with the government and the sovereign’s failure to protect his people would have led to a serious revolt. Yes?
SH: Sonjo was acutely aware of the discontent among his subjects. It was Koreans, after all, not the Japanese, who burned a lot of Seoul in May 1592. So Sonjo knew he was balancing on the edge of a razor. When things were at their worst he even flirted with the idea of crossing the Yalu River and leaving Korea, which would have amounted to abdication.

One very important service the Ming Chinese did in sending armed forces to Korea was to put some heart back into Sonjo, who was in despair. Another important service was that they propped up his throne and in turn the Choson dynasty. I don’t know how close the dynasty came to falling during and immediately after the war, but it was obviously teetering. Even if the Japanese had eventually worn themselves out in northern Korean and withdrawn without Ming interference, the lack of a Ming presence in Korea might very well have ensured the dynasty’s collapse.

To be continued. The second part of this interview will be posted on April 28.

Ninja Assassin: Carnage at its Finest

I had been looking forward to seeing the movie Ninja Assassin
ever since I saw the first trailer online sometime last year, and at long last, it came up on my Netflix queue and appeared in my mailbox. It delivered on exactly what I had expected - over the top action and beyond expected gore and carnage. A little background on my Ninja experiences - The first time I had seen Sho Kosugi's "Revenge of the Ninja" was way back in 1984 (and probably on Betamax) at my friend's 9th birthday party (us children of the 70's had it so much better - no seatbelts, no protective sports gear, no green participant ribbons, and no political overlords keeping cool action movies under lock and key). I haven't seen the movie since then, and after 26 years I barely remember it, but to my 9 year old brain I remember it as being serious, hardcore, and VIOLENT (Yay!), and I probably assumed that Ninja were real superhumans with mystical powers.

Ninja Assassin stands firmly on this foundation, and in more ways than one. Remove the technology, change the hairstyles to bad 80's cuts, and keep the dialogue, and you have before you something that could have been produced in 1983. The characters are fully invested in the myth, and in fact take it way too seriously. But I'll get to that later.

The movie follows the protagonist, Raizo, who we will find out part way through, has forsaken his Ninja clan, not really out of love, honor, or morality, but essentially because his mentor, the head of the "Ozunu" clan (played surprisingly solidly) by Sho Kosugi (of the original "Revenge of the Ninja" fame), was unable to completely remove his humanity. That's it. Unlike most "revenge" movies, the main character isn't motivated by anything so obvious or simple as emotion - his best friend/lover/etc. wasn't murdered in cold blood - simply one person reminded him that he wasn't a an object; a living weapon of the Ozunu clan. The fact that this person (by the name of "Kiriko", presumably the Japanese characters for "Cutting Child") was killed in front of him is probably immaterial to the plot; Raizo is like one robot in a robot army that suddenly becomes self-aware, and in that awareness realizes that the programming it has been fed doesn't compute. Pretty deep stuff, all things considered.

The "everyman" in the film is "Mika", a forensic researcher of Europol, which seems to be some sort of world police force based in Germany. Her and her partner, Ryan, end up on the trail of the thousand year old Ninja clan that spawned Raizo, which has been taking part in political assassinations. These two characters seem to have been resurrected directly from 1980's cinema, and act mainly as the cardboard characters that provide the eyes and ears for us, the audience. They, in fact, take everything too seriously for us, the audience, to take them seriously - maybe there was some backstory I was missing, but I couldn't figure out exactly whey they were so grave when talking about Ninja clans on the rampage before the characters themselves really had much in the way of evidence that the Ninja clans were real. By extension, the movie takes itself too seriously as well - the story is completely unbelievable, and watching these two characters react in shock, awe, horror, and gravity to every little piece of the puzzle they pull together is almost comedic. The movie could have worked perfectly well without them, and in fact probably would have, but as we all know, Hollywood needs its John Blackthornes, its Nathan Algrens, and so on - because apparently they think we need someone we can "relate to". An everyman or everywoman pulled into inextricable circumstances, trying to make sense of what's going on, on behalf of the audience. Watching Ryan and Mika stumble around in circumstances beyond their understanding is somewhat disconcerting, as the audience has a far better and clearer grasp is going on than they do, which makes their roles as the everyman for us to experience the movie through almost completely superfluous.

Unlike Mika and Ryan, Raizo and Ozunu are solid characters, well acted and well represented. You have no doubts that Ozunu believes completely in what he is doing without regret or remorse. He is what he is, and Raizo is what he is, and they are destined to cross swords by the end of the movie.

The visual effects require special mention - no matter where the fighting takes place- in the dark illuminated by a flashlight, in the street at night, or in a burning Ninja temple, the visuals are nothing short of amazing. And the blood - oh the blood...! Swords and blades move like hot knives through butter, and copious amounts of blood are spilled- definitely stylized blood, but visually spectacular - as are the constantly flying body parts. So over the top that I can find it hard to imagine anyone would be horrified or discouraged by the gore, since it plays out more like a violent video game than actual people losing arms, legs or heads.

I can give this movie a qualified 5 out of 5 stars, since this movie was obviously influenced by the 1980's Ninja obsession, and I can respect that, since I was there. It embraces the sub-sub-genre of goofy and poorly acted 80's Ninja craze movies - it is what it is. For anyone who didn't experience the Ninja craze of the 80's, this might be a hard movie to swallow acting- and plot-wise, and it might look like I've even gone so far as to give it far more credit than it is due, but there should still be a little something for everyone - hardcore bloody action the likes of which haven't been put to film before, as well an interesting philosophical thought that simple human self-awareness alone can be enough to motivate one to be better - or to take down a thousand year old Ninja clan.

No Bullshido Here-Animeigo's "Bushido: The Cruel Code Of The Samurai"

As evidenced by the recent post covering History Channel's "Samurai" special, one of the most frustrating and constant things we on the SA have to contend with are the misconceptions associated with Bushido. The idea that "All Samurai followed a chivalrous code of ethics known as 'Bushido' that emphasized honor, loyalty, and bravery unto death" has been branded onto the minds of many westerners from the time of Nitobe Inazo's book "Bushido: The Soul of Japan" to the hijinks of Tom Cruise in "The Last Samurai". We usually refer to this as "Bullshido". Therefore, it's a real pleasure to review Animeigo's recent DVD release of 1963's "Bushido: The Cruel Code of the Samurai" (Bushido Zankoku Monogatari). Finally, a film that eschews the glorification of a code that never was and shows the dark side of just what such a system would entail!

And dark it is, in spades. During the course of the film's 123 minutes, the viewer will bear witness to murder, executions, suicide (ranging from oibara/jushi to kamikaze), rape, filicide, castration, homosexual enslavement, insanity, humiliation, corporate espionage, fetishism, and all manner of cruelty-all committed in the name of Bushido. While there's nothing all that graphic in the film (with much of the violence relatively bloodless or implied), it maintains its power from beginning to end. Director Imai Tadashi's film won the 1963 Berlin Film Festival's Golden Bear Award for Best Film along with garnering a Japanese Blue Ribbon Best Actor Award for star Nakamura Kinnosuke.

The film opens with Ikura Susumu rushing to the hospital to be with his fiancee Kyoko, who has overdosed on sleeping pills. Susumu berates himself for his as yet undisclosed indiscretion in the name of loyalty that has led to this. He muses over the family records he recently discovered at a local temple that make this incident only the latest in a long chain of tragedies brought on by a culture of total obedience. While waiting for Kyoko to emerge from her coma, he runs over them in his mind...

The first vignette opens in the Keicho era with Ikura Jirozaemon Hidekiyo, having been made a ronin after Sekigahara, being employed for his skill with the spear by clan minister Hori of the Yazaki of Shinshu (Shinano Province). Hidekiyo pledges his unswaying obedience and loyalty to his lord, even unto death-starting things out with a scene typical of most jidaigeki films. Years later, the clan is taking part in pacifying the 1638 Shimabara Rebellion. When a desperate night attack is launched by the peasants against the camp of the Yazaki, the clan's lack of vigilance results in not only their buildings being destroyed by fire but also the neighboring camp of Lord Kuroda. Although Hidekiyo's spearmanship ended the assault, amends must be made to the Shogun-but what must be done?

Moving to later in the Kanei era, the action picks up with Hidekiyo's son, Sajiemon, who is a page to the old lord. Sajiemon is placed under house arrest when he offends the lord by suggesting the clan doctor be summoned when the old man falls ill. The lord moves closer and closer to death, but shows no sign of forgiving Sajiemon, placing the future of the Ikura clan in jeopardy. The fate of his wife Yasu and son Kyunosuke hangs in the balance. How to prove his loyalty to the clan and ensure that the Ikura are not once again turned out as ronin?

While the first two stories are certainly tragic enough, things begin to get REALLY nasty in the third. Here in the Genroku era, Ikura Kyutaro Tomoyuki has succeeded Sajiemon's son Masanoshin as head of the clan. He's a young student in the clan's Shoheizaka Academy who catches the eye of his lecherous lord Tanba-no-kami when he arrives to present birthday wishes. Kyutaro is ordered to report to the lord and begins to feel a growing sense of dread when one of the Lord's concubines, Lady Hagi, complains that the Lord always sends his 'pretty boys' to her to prepare. In no time at all, Kyutaro has been rudely initiated into the ways of Shudo (here referring to homosexual relations among samurai, usually between an older powerful man and a younger one of less status). While this wasn't an uncommon situation in medieval Japan and was quite acceptable by the standards of the day, it comes across strongly as enslavement and rape here (since Kyutaro isn't what you would call a willing participant, only being cowed when Tanba-no-kami tells him it's just another way to 'show your loyalty'). Things get even sleazier as the Lord 'gifts' Kyutaro with his discarded clothing-ranging from a kimono to a vest and eventually his underwear. Again, this would indeed be considered an honor by the standards of the day, but tends to leave modern audiences a bit sickened. The Lord also seems to enjoy a bit of s & m with his lovemaking, inflicting a painful bite on Kyutaro and warning him to stay away from women. Seemingly resigned to his fate, Kyutaro's world get even worse when the Lord manipulates him into being alone with Lady Hagi with rather predictable results-and the denouement to this episode will leave every male in the audience cringing and grimacing.

Now comes the most twisted and disturbing story of all-that of Shuzo, head of the Ikura family in the Tenmei era. Shuzo is the clan's most skilled swordsman and master of the "great sword of darkness", a technique that allows him to strike effectively while blindfolded. He has a seemingly wonderful life with his son Jujiro, daughter Sato, wife Maki, and friend and future son-in-law Kazuma. Although he saves his lord's life by striking down a peasant that attempts to assassinate him, Shuzo is subjected to a mind-numbing litany of injustice and humiliation at the hands of an intensely sadistic, warped, and sexually charged daimyo. This is the film's dramatic high point, and Imai pulls out all the stops. Having lost several members of his family to the lord's depravity, Shuzo is given a chance to have his 'crime' of finally getting the courage to remonstrate the lord forgiven. All he has to do is use the 'great sword of darkness' to execute two criminals. What follows is one of the most disturbing tableaus in samurai cinema, with Shuzo becoming an utterly pathetic and broken man.

Following this is an incident in the Meiji era where Ikura Shingo, a rickshaw driver and student studying for the Japanese bar, takes into his household the dispossessed, feeble minded final lord of the clan. Shingo hopes that if the lord recovers, the Emperor will make the lord part of the aristocracy, increasing the prospects for Shingo's career. However, it looks like the only thing the lord seems interested in is Shingo's fiancee Fuji. How Shingo reacts to this is possibly the most troubling scene in the film.

The sixth story is a short one, showing Susumu's older brother Osamu, a pilot in the 3rd Mitate Squad in World War II. Time is running out for Japanese forces as the Americans close in on the home islands-and it doesn't take a crystal ball to see what this will mean for Osamu.

Finally, the film comes full circle and returns to Susumu. We learn that under pressure from his boss, he has asked his fiancee Kyoko (a typist at a competing firm) to steal a budget estimate for a major construction project. Despite having misgivings (her boss is a longtime friend of her family and has treated her well), she does so and for her efforts is asked by Susumu to delay their marriage. After all, it might raise questions about how his company beat out hers for the bid. Feeling used and abandoned, she attempts suicide. Will Susumu be the Ikura that breaks the cycle of blind obedience to an uncaring 'overlord', or will he continue to be the steadfast company man?

This is a film that carries the stamp of Director Imai from start to finish. Imai was a confirmed Marxist (except for a period during WWII where the government forced him to make propaganda films), and the 'class struggle' of Marxism is reflected not only in the virtual enslavement of the Ikura but also in the hardships and punishments handed out to farmers (being sentenced to death by bamboo saw for the crime of appealing to a minister). Imai infuses each episode with a healthy dose of melodrama, concocting scenarios so extreme that they sometimes seem more like a nightmare than something that was really happening. Imai's skills in telling the story makes it all seem natural and believable. Taking this approach clearly spells out the abuses that would have flourished under a system run under the auspices of Bushido. This is symbolically shown when the body of a character who has been backed into committing suicide is 'honored' by having a flag bearing the mon of the Tokugawa Shogun draped over his body. When loyalty is expected to be absolute, there are no recourses for those at the bottom. Any action, however innocent, can be deemed a crime by those in power. In the early 60's, this would have found an audience ready for the film's message. Japanese film in general and jidaigeki in particular were beginning to embrace fare that questioned traditional values, leading to heroes who fought the injustices of a rigid class-structured society (such as Nemuri Kyoshiro or Zatoichi). About the only complaint we had with the film is that the high point comes too early-after the episode involving Shuzo, everything else seems somewhat anti-climatic, albeit effective.

It would also seem Imai is something of a feminist. The female characters in the film are almost to a fault stronger than the men, refusing to kowtow to the whims of a warped lord and embodying the true spirit of honor. At one juncture Fuji seemingly points this out, asking Shingo 'What kind of a man are you?'. As a group, they function as the film's spiritual center and grounding, acting as a foil to the actions of the men. Even the seemingly weak and suicidal Kyoko succeeds in driving home her point to Susumu.

Star Kinnosuke, who turned in dozens of excellent samurai roles, is often overshadowed by the better known stars such as Mifune, Nakadai, Katsu, or Ichikawa, but has the role of a lifetime here. He plays all seven scions of the Ikura shown in the film, and one role even has a 'middle aged' and 'old' version. He's completely believable in every role and each character is differentiated. Hidekiyo is a grizzled war vet who takes a practical approach to everything. Kyutaro is a young 'pretty boy' who, after being defiled, croons to his lord in a high pitched falsetto. Shuzo does a 'Nakadai'-moving from brutally efficient middle-aged swordsman to a wasted shell of a man, aged well beyond his years. Shingo could be the know-it-all college kid next door. Many actors are praised for their range, but few have over the course of their career managed to show convincingly the range that Kinnosuke shows in just this one film. He deserves more attention among jidaigeki fans, and looks like he'll be getting it in Animeigo's upcoming "Musashi' boxed set.

Interestingly enough, the film comes across at times as being part of the Japanese horror tradition. This is reflected in Mayuzumi Toshiro's score, early on using a harpsichord to produce a jarring and unnerving mood. Other parts of the score sound much like the music used for other contemporary kaidan rather than that used for jidaigeki. The lighting and cinematography also tend to give characters that 'horror movie', shadowed look. A scene where a character makes an impossible request of his lover is foreshadowed by his extinguishing of a light, plunging the scene into darkness. An attractive young woman is boxed up and presented to a corrupt samurai as a 'Kyoto Doll', considered nothing more than a toy for his amusement. The sound of a simple jangling handbell associates itself with evil. Crazy skewed camera angles are used in several scenes to emphasize the horror of the moment. While there's nothing supernatural going on, approaching the film in this way helped to underscore the abuses being put on display.

Animeigo has delivered a good looking print and upholds its reputation for producing a detailed and accurate translation, complete with on screen cultural notes. They even translate the ENTIRE cast list, something rarely done in the west (but appreciated by those of us who like to 'actor spot'). The care put into this release is on display from the opening menu. Here black and white photos of the 'seven generations' emerge from the top and bottom of the screen to close like a set of jagged teeth, and the photos are slowly filled in with sickly looking colors that set the stage for the horrors to come. The extras will be of particular interest to readers of the Samurai Archives. The Samurai Archives Samurai Wiki was used as a source for many of the cultural notes (which give abundant background on all the eras the film covers). In addition, an essay on the history behind Bushido by film historian and Samurai Archives staffer Randy Schadel is included that amply illustrates how samurai behavior usually fell far short of the idealized version of Bushido. Rounding out the extras are trailers (two different ones for this film plus ones for Shinsengumi, Kon Ichikawa's 47 Ronin, Shogun Assassin, and Samurai Assassin), an image gallery, bios for Imai, Nakamura, and Mita Yoshiko (who played Kyoko and who is still active in Japanese filmmaking-she was in Battle Royale 2), and a short essay that gives the traditional view of Bushido. The extras do a solid job of complementing the film's content as well as expanding on some of the issues it brings up. Short of some of Criterion's more elaborate releases, no one does extras for jidaigeki films better than Animeigo.

In our opinion, this film should be required viewing for anyone with an interest in jidaigeki films, if only to balance the surfeit of 'noble ronin' and 'glorious samurai' films out there. It'll give even the worst 'modern sammyrai' pause to consider if following the tenets of Bushido is such a good idea after all! There's no 'bullshido' here-just excellent performances, a compelling well-told story, and a first rate package of supplements. You can order 'Bushido: The Cruel Code of the Samurai' directly from Animeigo or at Amazon through the SA store.

Change is coming to the Samurai Archives

First off, as the webmaster I'd like to thank the loyal readers, contributors, and forum members. The goal of the website was always to create an online community of people interested in Japanese history, and I think we've done a bang up job. Before going into detail on what's in store for the Samurai Archives, I'd like to extend my thanks to a few stalwart vassals of the Shogun's domain - namely Tatsunoshi and Obenjo Kusanosuke, who have been the grease that have helped keep the wheels moving along year after year.

Now for the news: A while ago I was approached by a representative of a scholar of Japanese history who was interested in forming an alliance of sorts. This scholar has striven for years to bring the study of Japanese history out of the ivory tower to the greater community, and so in retrospect, it was only a matter of time before messengers would be sent, hostages exchanged, and marriage alliances formed.

After weeks of dialogue and brainstorming, the bulk of the agreement has been set, and we have been given the green light to make an announcement. I will let the press release speak for itself, and then end with a few more comments:

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DENNIS EATON-HOGG & ASSOCIATES
PUBLIC RELATIONS SPECIALISTS
14 KINGSGATE COURT - OXFORD - NN3 7FA, OXFORD UK


Contact: Ms Cheri Burns FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
Phone: +44 (0)1865 348 0400

TURNBULL COMPLETES PURCHASE OF SAMURAI ARCHIVES
Top Samurai Scholar to Integrate S-A; Announces New Deal with Osprey Publishing

April 1, 2010
LEEDS, England- Today it was announced that renowned Japanese historian and scholar on the samurai, Dr Stephen Turnbull, has just completed a deal to purchase the Samurai Archives website and all other affiliated entities for an undisclosed sum.

Dr Turnbull said, "I'm delighted to make this important step into expanding my multimedia-based educational efforts to teach people about real samurai history. I believe that the entire general public will benefit from this move."

Also on hand was Clive Gimpley-Goole, Managing Director for Osprey Publishing’s newly created Far Eastern Military Publications Division, who also has worked out a simultaneous deal with Dr Turnbull to publish printed editions of the Samurai Archives' respected online content. "This is really a tremendous opportunity for us to strengthen our working relationship with Dr Turnbull. We think that publishing the SA's web-based content in Dr Turnbull's name is a sure fire business model. In essence, it allows us to maximise the output of Dr Turnbull's books without the delay of having him to go out and do the usual lengthy field research."

When asked about the future of the Samurai Archives' Citadel--an online forum for armchair historians, D. Turnbull responded that it will be taken off-line effective April 3 for an overhaul and extensive editing to remove excessive negativity about certain scholars and other members that was allowed to prevail under the previous management.

C.E. West, who effectively ran the Samurai Archives out of his home in Honolulu, Hawaii, has been asked to stay on and serve in a yet to be determined capacity.
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We have entered into an agreement, beginning a mutually beneficial relationship that will present the amateur historian new and exciting features on the Samurai Archives.

As part of the new agreement, Osprey will begin publishing the website content as a series of books starting in the fall. Each will be edited by Dr. Turnbull himself, and lavishly illustrated. Additionally, Osprey will be pioneering the latest concept in publishing: For-Print. This is indeed an exciting development for everyone involved with the S-A. For-Print, for anyone who isn't aware, is the concept of publishing forum content in book form. Each "Chapter" consists of one thread, taken directly from the Samurai Archives Forum. The threads will be chosen by a panel of scholars and experts including Ming-Sheng Lee, Thomas D. Conlan, and Steve Hubbell of the Samurai Eiga forum.

This is only the tip of the iceberg, and there will be many more exciting things happening in the next few weeks, so stay tuned!


In the meantime, please enjoy your April 1st.

Here Lies Dan Kutci, Victim of Sonnō Jōi Terrorism

DAN-KUTCI
JAPANESE LINGUIST
TO THE
BRITISH LEGATION
Murdered
BY
JAPANESE ASSASSINS
29th January, 1860

Tucked away in a corner of Kōrin-ji, a Rinzai Zen Buddhist temple In Azabu, Minato-ku, Tokyo, one can find the grave of Dan Kutci, a Japanese linguist who was employed by the British legation. Kutci, like another fellow translator, Henry Heusken, whose tombstone lies within the shadow of Kutci’s, was killed in an act of terror committed by anti-foreigner ‘terrorists’ during the waning days of the Tokugawa Shogunate.

But who was Dan Kutci? Who wanted him dead and why? For starters, Dan Kutci was a native of Japan and was more commonly known among the Japanese by the name, Denkichi—Kumano no Denkichi, to be exact. Denkichi originally hailed from Shiotsumura in the province of Kishū (present day Shiotsu, Wakayama Prefecture). Denkichi served on a merchant ship, the Eirikimaru that was returning back to Setsu from Edo with a full cargo when the ship got caught in a storm on Dec 2, 1850. The ship drifted for 53 days until it was rescued by an American merchant ship, the Aukland, which brought the Japanese to San Francisco on March 5, 1851. With nowhere to go, the 17-man crew of the Eirikimaru was confined to a US Customs ship, the Polk, for nearly a year until they boarded the USS Saint Mary, a warship outbound for Asia where it was hoped that the Japanese could be repatriated with Perry’s upcoming expedition. One of the Japanese died along the way and was buried in Hilo, Hawaii. The others continued on and arrived in China where they soon found employment and were dissuaded from returning to Japan with the Perry Expedition. However, Denkichi was eventually able to rendezvous with Perry’s squadron as it made its way back to America and was able to secure passage on Perry’s flagship, the Mississippi in July 1854 when the ship steamed into Hong Kong.

After five years in America, Denkichi found himself back in China where he was hired as a translator by Rutherford Alcock, England’s minister to Japan and the two arrived in Edo (Tokyo) on May 26, 1859. It had been 9 years since Denkichi had been back in Japan. But after returning home after such a long absence, Denkichi didn’t quite fit in and acted in a manner that was perhaps more Western than Japanese. He told people he was British, wore western clothing and acted very haughtily, which angered many of his countrymen and made him a prime target for the radicals who were advocating expelling the foreigners and restoring imperial rule. And it was on the afternoon of January 29, 1860 that two samurai wearing straw hats to cover their faces, attacked Denkichi, driving either a short sword (wakizashi) or most likely a dagger (tantō) up until the hilt deep into his back, leaving it there. Poor Denkichi, haughty or not, had just become a victim of sonnō jōi terrorism.

Sonnō jōi (revere the emperor; expel the foreigners) was a rousing phrase and political philosophy to which young radicals rallied in the waning days of the Tokugawa shogunate. Fueled by a growing pro-imperial sentiment and anger at the shogunate for opening the country to the West, the sonnō jōi movement became a nascent unifying force that challenged and weakened the 250 year-old status quo of Tokugawa rule. As violence was the movement’s primary tool as a means of enforcing ‘heaven’s will’, this helped Japan slip into the chaos and wanton terror that would help define the Bakumatsu period and engulf the lives of many foreigners and Japanese alike.

Denkuchi may have died a victim of sonnō jōi terrorism 150 years ago, but he’s not forgotten.

Source: Miyanaga, Takashi. “The Assassination of Denkichi. Journal of Society and Labour, Hosei University, 40(3/4), 1993.

Modern Sammyrai Wet Dream: The History Channel’s Musashi Special

While cable’s History Channel isn’t producing an abundance of original shows dealing with actual history these days (instead giving us stuff like Monsterquest, Pawn Stars, American Pickers, Ax Men, and Ice Road Truckers-most of which are enjoyable fare), I was intrigued to see a promo for a new two hour special entitled ‘Samurai’. Well, at least I THINK it’s new-since virtually all of History Channel’s specials on pre-modern Japanese history are entitled ‘Samurai’, it’s hard to tell. It’s copyrighted 2009, so close enough. My wife Ayame was visiting from Japan and I thought it would be fun for her to see the West’s take on Japanese history. We were expecting the usual History Channel fare-nice visuals with a mixture of fact and legend that’s a small cut above most pop culture books. What we got was a modern sammyrai’s wet dream-an idealized two hour homage to that most overrated of samurai, Miyamoto Musashi.

The warning bells went off immediately when we saw that the show was going to be hosted by a martial artist, Mark Dacascos. As my father-in-law’s fond of pointing out, any history project with major input from a martial artist tends to be highly inaccurate and unreliable (as they’re usually only concerned with the promotion and glorification of martial arts). Well, OK, it could be worse-instead of Dacascos, they could have used Stephen Hayes. Dacascos is an accomplished martial artist, has appeared in several entertaining movies and TV shows (I remember him from ‘Crying Freeman’, although it was Shimada Yoko putting her goodies on display that provided the dramatic high point of the film), and seems like a nice enough guy-but it’s painfully obvious he knows little about Japanese culture or history.

Then things got real ugly. Dacascos stated that the program was going to focus on his attempt to follow in the footsteps of Miyamoto Musashi and rediscover the spirit of the ultimate warrior.
…..
…..
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What followed was two hours of the worst hero-worshipping dreck I’ve witnessed in a long, long time. The likes of it probably haven’t been seen since Leni Riefenstahl’s ‘Triumph of the Will’ back in the 1930’s. Loaded with historical errors, misconceptions, and-dare I say it-assclownery, sitting through it was an exercise in discipline and self control. Ayame thought it was one of the funniest things she had ever seen, especially since it was filmed in such a solemn and serious manner-she giggled throughout most of the show. For sheer brutality to Japanese ‘samurai’ history, it’s perhaps only been exceeded by the books ‘Samurai Battles’ and ‘Samurai: The Philosophy of Victory’. Here are some of the points that really rang the bell on the ol’ BS high-striker…and these are just the ones I remember. I would have taken notes, but I didn’t want Ayame to think I’m THAT much of a history geek…

-About a third to a half of the two hour running time consists of shots of Dacascos driving around Japan, using public transportation, sitting in his hotel room, or practicing Kung Fu. Great if you’re a Dacascos fan-not so great for history buffs.

-Despite being one quarter Japanese (as he continually reminds the audience), Dacascos butchers most of the few Japanese terms and words used in the show. ‘Edo’ is pronounced ala ‘Speedo’. A wooden sword is a ‘bokutwo’. Kumamoto is Cumamoto (well, maybe when Brick McBurly is visiting). And when referring to multiple samurai, he adds an ‘s’. This of course would earn him an immediate ban on the SA.

-Musashi, naturally, is referred to as the greatest samurai in history. Even though he’s not mentioned once in the six volume Cambridge History of Japan or most other serious histories.

-Musashi’s sword style was the original sword style used by samurai and everything after that branched off of this. This is every bit as ridiculous as it sounds-even the show mentions multiple other earlier sword schools.

-Even though a samurai was expected to be proficient with all types of weaponry, his primary weapon in battle was the sword. Well, not really-depending on the era, it would be the bow, naginata, spear, or arquebus. In battle, a sword would be a weapon of last resort.

-Bushido is brought up as the code that all samurai lived by. I weep and clutch my copy of Animeigo’s “Bushido-The Cruel Code of the Samurai” for solace.

-Hideyoshi is called the Shogun of Japan.

-Wheeled US Civil War cannon are shown as being present at the Battle of Sekigahara.

-It’s stated that 80,000 died at Sekigahara. Wow! That would mean roughly 80% of the troops that actually engaged in battle that day died. To say nothing of the wounded. Whose butt did they pull that figure out of?

-Dacascos states that at Sekigahara the “record shows that Musashi distinguished himself in battle”. Gosh, Mark, what record would that be? It’s not one I’ve ever heard of, or any American or Japanese historians have either. In fact, a great many of them doubt that Musashi was even AT Sekigahara.

-When describing Musashi’s duels with the Yoshioka school in Kyoto, the fact that he ambushed and killed a child as part of his initial attack in the final meeting is never brought up-even though there’s an extended recreation of the battle. This theme continues throughout the program-anything that portrays Musashi as less than heroic and the ultimate warrior is conveniently omitted.

-In a similar vein, Musashi's notorious lack of hygiene, reluctance to bathe, and his skin disease is never addressed.

-Musashi’s ploy of arriving late to duels was the first instance of psychological ploys in samurai history-he originated the concept of psychological warfare in 1604. Well, except maybe for that Sun Tzu guy. And the hundreds of recorded instances of psychological ploys covering the thousand years of Japanese history before Musashi, going back to the earliest surviving written works in Japan.

-Dacascos is seen performing random kata in the middle of the night with a katana while on an elevated pedestrian walkway across one of the busiest intersections in Kyoto. Nothing like leaving viewers with the impression that it's perfectly legal and all right to carry a sword around modern Japan and whip it out in the middle of a major city.

-In a particularly painful moment for your reviewer, Dacascos is sitting around and musing (this isn’t a direct quote since I didn’t write it down, but it’s close): ‘I think I’m realizing…I think I’m beginning to understand…the sword is special to a samurai. I think…(extra long dramatic Bill Shatner pause here)…the sword could be called…the soul of the samurai’. Dacascos says this with so much gravity and reverence that you’d almost believe he’s the first person to have this idea, even though it’s almost always in the first paragraph of every pop culture book on the samurai.

-While showing how a sword is forged, it’s stated that this forge uses only traditional medieval methods. While the smith uses an automated power hammer to pound out folds.

-Dacascos is helping out with traditional tandem hammer pounding on a sword. With a look of awe, he states he can feel energy radiating from the hammer. Thankfully, that’s as far as it goes-Dacascos doesn’t become the SA’s infamous ‘Dancing Sword Guy’.

-When the duel with Kojiro Sasaki at Ganryujima is examined, it’s the typical ‘Musashi, all alone, arrives late with boat oar and kills Sasaki’ scenario. No mention that Musashi actually had a large group of his followers with him, that it’s likely he only wounded Sasaki in the duel, and that Musashi’s posse later ambushed and killed Sasaki.

-The modern day town of Fukushima is referred to by Dacascos as ‘a town full of samurais’. No, Mark, samurai were removed as a class way over a hundred thirty years ago. Having samurai ancestry and taking part in reenactments doesn’t make you a samurai. It’d be great if they were, because then my father-in-law would be one and could make me the family heir. This bit also leaves viewers with the mistaken impression that the members of the Takeda School of Archery live a traditional samurai lifestyle 24/7, eschewing all modern conveniences.

-Samurai are described as the only group of people in world history whose sole job for over a thousand years was the practice and perfection of the art of warfare. Well, their sole job except for running farms, estates, day to day menial labor, and a million other bureaucratic, political, and administrative duties ranging from signing treaties with foreign countries to being a sandal bearer.

-The World War II Japanese super battleship Musashi was named in honor of Miyamoto Musashi. No, no, no! Like its sister ship the Yamato, it was named for a Japanese province in accordance with the existing naval naming standards.

-The battle of Osaka was the last battle in samurai history (and they have Musashi fighting on the side of the Tokugawa). Guess these guys haven’t heard of the later huge conflict of Shimambara, the scores of battles in the Bakumatsu, or the myriad other smaller battles. Which brings us to…

-…the fact that Musashi’s adventures during the Shimambara rebellion are not brought up despite the fact that as a staff officer of the Ogasawara it was a major episode in his life. Obviously, giving details of Musashi’s role in the wholesale slaughter of tens of thousands of peasants (many of them Christians) would tend to take the shine off the figure Dacascos is painting. Not to mention the fact that Mr. Invincible Sword Master was put out of action after being hit by a peasant with a thrown rock. Yes, the ‘Ultimate Warrior’ was defeated by the lowliest of the low, a completely untrained peasant with the most basic of weapons.

-The Tokugawa Shogunate banned all guns. Wrong again-there were tens of thousands of guns, likely even hundreds of thousands, in Japan, moreso than any European country was able to field at the time. This includes the Edo period, the time of the Tokugawa Shogunate.

-The samurai as a class ended in 1853. Nope, sorry, they held their status for another 20 years or so during which some of the most famous incidents in samurai history took place.

-Musashi was different from every other samurai because only HE was able to achieve enlightenment. Dacascos really says this. I suppose all those other samurai who retired, took religious vows, and devoted their lives to Buddha and the kami were just poseurs.

-In the one part of the show that rang true, Musashi’s modern day popularity is traced primarily to the Yoshikawa novel ‘Musashi’ which is described as romanticized and largely inaccurate. It should also be noted the show gives virtually NO mention to what Musashi was best known for before the Yoshikawa serial/novel appeared-his skills as an artist. Before the novel came out, he was far better known for his ink paintings and sculptures than for his reputation as a swordsman.

And this was just the very obvious, factually incorrect stuff. There’s more for those who dare to sit through it. All in all, it was the most wretched cesspool of blind Musashi worship and butt kissing imaginable. It points out the dangers inherent in letting a martial artist, real (as in Dacascos’s case) or imagined, within 100 miles where actual history is concerned (unless the martial artist in question is Karl Friday). ‘Samurai’ rivals Romulus Hillsborough’s book ‘Ryoma-A Renaissance Samurai’ for pure unadulterated adulation. For the hordes of Ghost Dog watching, video game playing modern sammyrai who profess to follow the ways of Bushido in our honorless modern world, it was a wet dream come true.

There were two moments in this production that encapsulated the entire fiasco for me. One is where Dacascos is hanging onto the straps of a streetcar and holding forth on the glory of Musashi-with a sticker promoting the ‘SMAP’ boys hovering over his head, seemingly giving its tacit approval to the ongoing buffoonery. The second even gives a possible explanation for where all the inaccuracies on display stem from. As Dacascos sits in his hotel room reading (more accurately, looking at the pictures in) an English language coffee-table book on samurai, I recognized that the book was written by none other than Stephen Turnbull. Need I say more?