I fall sick a lot. Like a lot. I’ve often quoted that 1/3rd of my year goes about in sickness. Seems like an exaggeration but it feels like that. For someone with terrible immunity like mine, a global pandemic is enough reason to be worried. I mean I’ve stepped out thrice since March 2020, of which a couple were unrelated emergencies. Basically, these are messed up times for me. As I write this, I’m reeling from yet another bout of allergic rhinitis and the anti-histamines have messed me up yet again. Such a wonderful, dark portrait I’ve painted for you, no?
Yoko Tawada’s The Emissary is also about children, whose existence like me is defined by their frail health. The original title The Last Children of Tokyo is a more direct interpretation of the contents of the book. The story involves a dystopian Japan which is reeling from an unnamed disaster and is cut off from the rest of the world. Roles have reversed with children being terribly sick and needing continuous care while the older generations have retained their vitality, completely capable and living over 100 years easily. Sexual identity is a lot more fluid with a majority of people undertaking transformations while in stark contrast the government has an intense stronghold on media, with very little information flowing in and out. Our protagonists, Yoshiro and his great-grandson Mumei live on the outskirts of Tokyo, in order to stay away from the intense pollution of basic necessities in the capital. He is a writer, who goes about his business under a pen name, and we are treated to flashbacks of Yoshiro’s life over several pacings, having lived the long life that he had. He’s trying his best to keep his great-grandson son safe and alive amidst the impending environmental collapse. Mumei is an adorable little kid who’s extremely spirited and optimistic despite all the inadequacies in his life. He always has a sassy comment in him and the relationship between the duo is one to watch out for. The book also tries to break down the influence of Edo culture on the country and how that has completely fallen apart in the wake of technology taking over. Yoshiro belongs to an underground movement of emissaries whose role is to ensure that certain Japanese youth head overseas to allow for information symmetry in what is plaguing the nation and its children. A dystopian setting with utopian streaks and the travails of the extremely capable, elderly looking out for their infirm, young ones is how The Emissary is best described.
The read: There are books that toe the plot to the dot, ones with an overarching plot, plotless ones and then there’s this. Tawada manages to embroil too many themes in the text. What’s also unusual and slightly jarring is that for most of the book, we are present in a particular state of time where Yoshiro is fending for Muemei who is a kid. But right at the end of the book, we have a seemingly random time jump with closing events that feel slightly roughshod. I mean, I get the intent of the ending and how she wanted to keep it open but it just feels too rushed considering the specificity with which most things are described. If you do pick this up, it should be for the adorable relationship between Mumei and his great-grandfather that forms the crux of the story. Not for the plot, which seems quite frail, just like the last children of Tokyo.
Trivia: There is an event in the book which involves children being forced to bring white rice with a red dried plum in the middle for tiffin, as a signifier of the Japanese flag. This is the Hinomaru Bento, which is supposed to be extremely patriotic. Hinomaru means the circle of the sun while the plum is called umeboshi. The Bento wiki details a bunch of variations as well.
Documentation:
Book: The Emissary/The Last Children of Tokyo
Author: Yoko Tawada
Year of release: 2018
Publisher: New direction