The Kobe Hotel (Saito Sanki, 1993)

This is the first and still the greatest english translation of Saito Sanki's works [西東 三鬼] (1900-1962). Licentious and down-to-earth haiku renower and in fact jack of many trades (dentist, repairmen, permanently broke dealer), Saito's unorthodox literary style was for a long time permanently focused on the dark side of Japan's history and social contexts. This interest on the dark underbelly of gambling, prostitution and social stigma common among misfits long rejected by traditional society was nurtured by a period of residence as a boarder on a decrepitous hotel in Kobe during WWII, surrounded by pintoresque expatriates (Russians, Germans, Italians, Koreans), defectors and specially the barmaids of the cosmopolitan city, who at the time were broadly known for engaging with their clients in exchange for money during the shortages of a economy of war (and indeed long before that).

Sanki was to develop an internationalist strain early in life, during times in which it was dangerous to do so. Planning to be a dentist, he completed his formation and Tokyo, but then he was invited to practise the trade in Singapore, invited by his older brother Taeko. In many of his writings Saito would refer to 'his learning period in a British colony', where he went bankrupt eventually. Back in Tokyo at his return, he felt: ''Like a ghostlike alien'':

Sanki had never felt attracted to tradition, not only in the area of haiku but also in regard to the Japanese language. However, his unusual life experience during his youth in Singapore served as a rich backdrop for the development of a poetic spirit. Since he no longer felt at home in Japan, haiku helped him to deal with his profound sense of disappointment in life.

Pressed by a poetic urologist at the hospital in which he worked at the time, Sato began writing and publishing in 1933, right when he was already thirty-three. A brilliant and fresh talent made him relevant at the frenetic cultural scene of the time, until he and many others were arrested by the secret police in 1940, as they had been labeled as thought offenders since the new ultranationalist government regarded the 'new haiku' movement as subversive. While not openly political, it shared and spread widely held sentiments.

When released, Saito found life in Tokyo unbearable; leaving his family and only two years after this incident, he went all the way down to Kobe in a filled-up train, and, completely without money, he partaked in renting a old hotel with the rock-bottom of Japanese society. The Kobe Hotel as a book comprises his memoirs of this period, vivid remembrances of people and situations at the edge of survival in a cosmopolitan port city during wartime. Filled with charm and wit, these short-chapter stories answer many unasked questions about this most known period of Japanese history. As an example he speaks of his friend of the time, Maged Elba, a muslim Egyptian (Egypt was considered an enemy country since it was part of the Commonwealth front) who barely survived in Japan dealing with lost and looted goods of the german (nazi) navy, at the time stationed in the area and frequent visitor of the Japanese brothels. The colorful lot of characters, via their shady business practises and scandaloud opinions in matters such as country, family, sexuality or religion really tells part of the endlessly silenced ''other voices'' of Japan.

The dignity and modernity of the barmaids, who had their own limits and rules concerning their means of survival is really something. Depressing as it is to read of the hundreds of resources-deprived women who easily went into prostitution during this and all periods of Japan, here we heard from them in a better, human light. Saito's free mind shines through this book in that he really does not judge nor condemn but simply describe and amazes itself with the ways of life of these residents. These girls ended up taking confidence him as a trouble solver, considering him a father and mentor figure (for the very fact of him being more than 40 at the time and having studies). But this story is also, of course a human and universal one, which allows us for careful reflection on which attitudes promote or resist war. For war is of course manufactured, and needs human means to exist and last; while Sanki was arrested, others were not. Many scholarly intellectuals, government officials and everyday ''good-adjusted'' people had something to lose, resources to hold on to, and their fear or simply stark loyalty to the authorities created a national consensus on fighting to the last. Yet, others were not so pressed: people regarded as lazy, outcast and antisocial had nothing to lose, and nothing to thank their government or even families for. They were the ones who, paradoxically, staunchly opposed war in their lives, despite the omnipresent, nationwide patriotic propaganda campaign.

All the residents of the hotel, men and women alike, vigorously resisted the unparalleled form of violence known as war. The common attitude among them was based on the idea of ''freedom to us''. Which is why the Egyptian, the Turkish-Tartar, the White Russian, the Korean, the Taiwanese, and the Japanese women living in this dump could be extraordinary lax with regard to proper behaviour and yet were strangely proud of themselves, without exception. I say strange because of all the foreigners were involved in businesses of borderline legality.

Sanki's residence changed in prevision of the many air raids by American forces, which leveled many surrounding cities to the ground (as Osaka and later Tokyo itself). He bought a ruinous and cavernous mansion built during the Meiji era and never repaired, located in the surrounding countryside. He lived there with just a few people, but the number dramatically increased when many refugees ran at his door, hiding from the devastation of the foreseen bombing. Most of Kobe was destroyed, and the old hotel too; some characters of Sanki's portrait died that day. During the following reconstruction and then the American ocupation (with their goods and many bads), Sanki mantains his detached tone, and founds himself collaborating with allied forces of many origins in order to make a buck in the destroyed city, from fixing toilets to assembling manual raid alarms for the US Forces. Happy to see the end of the war, he is nevertheless deeply affected by its destructive passing, and the tone of his memoir darkens as well. As the introduction states, ''most of the characters in these stories live their quirky and turbulent lives during World War II, only to die or dissapear, leaving behind a simultaneus sense of comedy and pathos''. Only one truly serious and innerfelt moment: his passing by Hiroshima after the war, the hearing and seeing the black-burnt, skinless victims.

Humour in the face of adversity define in fact not only his memoir but also his poems, which comprise the second half of the book. Really amazing variety, from some seasons-inspired traditional haiku (with occasional unexpected turns) to humorous and cheeky, to (many of them) what could be defined as ''haikus of wartime'', with powerful references to either loss or conflict. Many verses talk
about machine gun and cannon fire, stating that Sanki, while being in some aspects absolutely opposed to his historical context during his life, he was nevertheless deeply shaped by its moment.

Let me store it
in myself, a mountainful
of cicadas screeching

Moor of ruin
my sister's grave-
I lift her into the light