On New Year’s Day, my illustrator friend Kanta Yokoyama invited me over to his house for a party, where we sat around the kotatsu listening to his grandfather, Taizo. I’d known that Taizo drew political cartoons and furnished illustrations for novels, back when novels were serialized in newspapers. But when he pulled out a black-and-white photo album, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was ridicu lous: shots of Taizo cross-dressing, or posing shirtless in traditional straw hunter’s skirts. He said the pictures were from his time in “bunshi theater,” amateur plays put on by artists, writers, and critics. I don’t know why these bookish types were doing theater, but it appears to have been a favorite hobby of some famous writers.

At the time, much of the Japanese literati lived in Kamakura. The area had been gradually attracting writers ever since the critic and novelist Fusao Hayashi invited Yasunari Kawabata to edit the journal Bungakukai (“Liter ary World”). In order to make a living during World War II, the Kamakura authors combined books from their private collections to form the stock of a rental bookstore called Kamakura Bunko. Even greats like Kawabata and Jun Takami took turns working the counter. Since they were catering to wealthy locals like the owners of bathhouses in the area, it must’ve been quite the extravagant place. Taizo’s older brother, the manga artist Ryuichi, even designed the poster for the shop. Taizo said that whenever groups of authors met up for drinks, fights would break out. So they started inviting illustrators to join them too—but fights broke out anyway. On their way home from the various newspaper company offices in Tokyo, they’d meet up in Shimbashi and drink into the night, then catch the last car of the last train for Kamakura, drinking the whole hour ride back, only to step off the train and drink some more, earning this particular train the nickname “The Last Club.” The authors Hideo Kobayashi and Tatsuo Nagai were regular members, plus the Yokoyama brothers. I can only imagine the impas sioned debates that unfolded on those rides.

In an essay for a special issue of Kamakura Shunju dedicated to Nagai after his passing, Taizo remembers a time Nagai called him out when he came back from a bathroom that he’d snuck into to nurse the wounds left by a diatribe from Kobayashi:
“Taizo, that’s no moment to scamper off. You’ve gotta listen to what Kobayashi’s telling you. Be glad that he’s giving you his opinion. You could stand to learn a lot from him. Hear me?”

As much as they loved to drink and mess around, these writers were always pondering the meaning of being human. Their writings and illustrations are a relic of those foolish, precious times. Their passion can be felt in the Kamakura landscape to this day. I feel like Kanta and I, who were both born in Kamakura, are constantly in search of this spirit. (Reprinted from Subsequence vol.7)

Toshiya Muraoka/ Nonfiction writer born in Kamakura, where he lives today. Works include Odayaka na Ghost: Nakazono Koji ni Otte.

Reference: Kamakura Bunshi to Kamakura by Koichiro Tomioka (Gin no Suzusha, 2017).