http://www.atlasobscura.com/places/kanmangafuchi-abyss?utm_source=Atlas+Obscura+Daily+Newsletter&utm_campaign=d905d4fc8c-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2017_08_18&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_f36db9c480-d905d4fc8c-63536177&ct=t(Newsletter_8_18_2017)&mc_cid=d905d4fc8c&mc_eid=052d0e55b3

Here's a link to an interesting article about a place in Japan where there are many statues of Buddha. People decorate them with red cloths. According to the local legend, nobody knows how many of these statues there are, because when you try to count them, some disappear. Our daughter thinks we should use this as a plot device for our next Samurai Detective book. Any thoughts?

The producer who is hoping to turn IN DARKNESS, DEATH into a movie is considering this man for the role of Kitsune. Does anybody like/dislike the idea?
http://www.pictaram.com/user/satoru.kaiturumaru/3695957126

Sales of our books about Seikei and Judge Ooka usually go up in the summer, but we noticed that, at least for today, THE GHOST IN THE TOKAIDO INN is rated on Amazon:

#1 in Books > Teens > Historical Fiction > Asia

That's Number One on historical fiction about Asia for teens. And this is eighteen years after publication without a shred of advertising or promotion by the publisher. (Philomel and the paperback subsidiary, Puffin)

As most of our fans know, we have published a seventh book in the Samurai Detective series even though our original publisher didn't want any more. The publisher never promoted or tried to sell the previous six books, anyway. Lately, we've been thinking about an eighth book, and the recent interest in the series by an indie movie producer only led us to think more seriously about number eight.
      We always start by looking for an idea that will form the basis of the new plot. Right now, we've been reading about Tsukahara Bokuden, a wandering swordsman who lived between 1490 and 1572. This was too early for Seikei to have met him, but we can create a character based on Bokuden who will be a contemporary of Seikei.
       These wandering swordsmen were ronin, or masterless samurai, who hired out their skills and services to people in need. They were similar to the hired guns of the Old West. Bokuden invented his own style of sword fighting, and became so well known that he was invited to teach his method to the shogun, a great honor.
       Bokuden had a son, who disappears from history, but there's no reason why he couldn't have a grandson or great-grandson. Now we have to figure out a way to have Seikei meet him. Let us know if you like the idea.

Transmedia Seikei?

We heard from an award-winning indie filmmaker who has great ideas for using our books in various other forms of media--like manga, anime, and live-action feature films. Big question, as is always the case in film making, is raising money, but he seems to know how to do that too. Does anybody out there want to see Seikei and Judge Ooka onscreen or in a manga book?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67-bgSFJiKc&list=PLCC27EE29DC1B898C

Here's a youtube video that tells about Kabuki theater. Very interesting. As readers of THE GHOST IN THE TOKAIDO INN know, Seikei and the Judge go to a kabuki play and then Seikei joins the kabuki acting group to find the thief who stole a precious jewel.

Interesting post by Alain deBotton:

Though we may keep a little quiet about this, especially when we're young, we tend deep down to be rather hopeful that we will - eventually - manage to find perfection in a number of areas. We dream of one day securing an ideally harmonious relationship, deeply fulfilling work, a happy family life and the respect of others.

But life has a habit of dealing us a range of blows - and leaving nothing much of this array of fine dreams save some shattered and worthless fragments.

It’s at moments of disillusion that we might turn our minds to a concept drawn from Japanese philosophy, and in particular, from the Zen Buddhist approach to ceramics. Over the centuries, Zen masters developed an argument that pots, cups and bowls that had become damaged shouldn’t simply be neglected or thrown away. They should continue to attract our respect and attention and be repaired with enormous care - this process symbolising a reconciliation with the flaws and accidents of time, reinforcing some big underlying themes of Zen.

The word given to this tradition of ceramic repair is kintsugi:

Kin = golden

tsugi = joinery

It means, literally, ‘to join with gold’. In Zen aesthetics, the broken pieces of an accidentally-smashed pot should be carefully picked up, reassembled and then glued together with lacquer inflected with a very luxuriant gold powder. There should be no attempt to disguise the damage, the point is to render the fault-lines beautiful and strong. The precious veins of gold are there to emphasise that breaks have a philosophically-rich merit all of their own.

The origins of Kintsugi are said to date to the Muromachi period, when the Shogon of Japan, Ashikaga Yoshimitsu (1358-1408) broke his favourite tea bowl and, distraught, sent it to be repaired in China. But on its return, he was horrified by the ugly metal staples that had been used to join the broken pieces, and charged his craftsmen with devising a more appropriate solution. What they came up with was a method that didn’t disguise the damage, but made something properly artful out of it.

Kintsugi belongs to the Zen ideals of wabi sabi, which cherishes what is simple, unpretentious and aged – especially if it has a rustic or weathered quality. A story is told of one of the great proponents of wabi sabi, Sen no Rikyu (1522-99). On a journey through southern Japan, he was once invited to a dinner by a host who thought he would be impressed by an elaborate and expensive antique tea jar that he had bought from China. But Rikyu didn’t even seem to notice this item and instead spent his time chatting and admiring a branch swaying in the breeze outside. In despair at this lack of interest, once Rikyu had left, the devastated host smashed the jar to pieces and retired to his room. But the other guests more wisely gathered the fragments and stuck them together through kintsugi. When Rikyu next came to visit, the philosopher turned to the repaired jar and, with a knowing smile, exclaimed: ‘Now it is magnificent’.

In an age that worships youth, perfection and the new, the art of kintsugi retains a particular wisdom - as applicable to our own lives as it is to a broken tea cup. The care and love expended on the shattered pots should lend us the confidence to respect what is damaged and scarred, vulnerable and imperfect - starting with ourselves and those around us.

When we have spoken at libraries or schools, we often hear many of the same questions. So to satisfy your curiosity (if you have any), here are some of our answers: 1) How do you pronounce the names of the characters? A. Remember that Japanese does not have diphthongs. Each vowel is pronounced separately (except when there are double vowels of the same kind.) So Seikei is Say-ee-KAY-ee. Judge Ooka does have one of those double vowels (you often see them spelled with a line over the vowel). That means you just draw out the vowel, like this: Oh-OH-ka. 2) Have you ever been to Japan? A. We have not been to present-day Japan. But we are writing about 18th-century Japan, and we have traveled there the only way you can--in books. 3) Where do you get your ideas? First, we decide what the setting of the book will be. The first one was obviously the Tokaido Road. The second was the Yoshiwara section of Tokyo, where geishas entertain far into the night. And then we start to figure out what would bring Seikei there. Once we have a general idea, we start to write. If we are doing well, the characters start to act. Often what happens is a surprise to us. Our daughter likes to recall that one day when she was teaching at Columbia University, she ran into her father (Tom) in the hallway of the library. He likes to go there to write. And he told her that he was going to find out today what was hidden in the storeroom. If you've read all the books, you know that this was the ending to A Samurai Never Fears Death.And yes, Seikei climbed the stairs to the storeroom and found...well, if you haven't read the book, we won't spoil it for you. Have you got any questions? Let us know, and we'll try to answer them.

Fan Video

Haven't posted here in too long. Here's a video from You Tube made by fans of the series. We like it!

In the first book in the Samurai Detective series, Seikei tells the Judge he wasn't afraid when he saw the jikininki because a samurai is willing to face death without fear. The Judge recognizes this as advice from a book by Daidoji Yuzan. That was a very popular book among young samurai at the time. We thought it would be interesting to quote that very passage:

     The samurai, whether great or small, high or low, has to set before all other things the consideration of how to meet his inevitable end. However clever or capable he might have been, if he is upset or wanting in composure and so makes a poor showing when he comes to face it all, his previous good deeds will be like water and all decent people will despise him so that he will be covered with shame.
      For when a samurai goes out to battle and does valiant and splendid exploits and makes a great name, it is only because he made up his mind to die. And if unfortunately he gets the worst of it and he and his head have to part company, when his opponent asks for his name, he must declare it at once loudly and clearly and yield up his head with a smile on his lips and without the slightest sign of fear.

--from The Code of the Samurai, by Daidoji Yuzan, translated by A.L. Sadler (Rutland, VT: Charles E. Tuttle Co, 1988)