Complete text of readers' comments

Here is the complete text of comments on Gail Tsukiyama's "The Samurai's Garden."

What a thought provoking read! The vivid descriptions used in "The Samurai's Garden" by Gail Tsukiyama made reading it an enjoyable experience. It was like watching a movie, but instead with only the use of my mind's eye. It's common knowledge about the Leper colony on Molokai, but beyond that, I've never really taken the time to understand what life is like for its victims. After reading this book, I have deeper insights due to what may or may not have been the author's intentions. Here is a look at just some of what I've learned.

The main character of the book is Stephen, a young man sick with tuberculosis, whose home is in China. While the Japanese Imperial Army is engaged in an all out war against China, Stephen is staying in his family's vacation home in a village named Tarumi located in Japan. This in itself presents many inner battles for Stephen. He fears for the safety of his mother, sister, friends, and feels out of place in a village made up of Japanese, who you'd think because of war would become his enemies. However, instead of playing out the "poor me" drama, and becoming caught up with the common war attitudes of others, he becomes more concerned about Sachi, a Japanese woman who because of the ill effects of leprosy moved from Tarumi to an area known as Yamaguchi. Through Stephen's eyes, I learned the secrets and past of Tarumi and its people.

It was easy to experience the feelings of loss, sadness, yearning, and more importantly, the emotion that transcends all things, love. Matsu, the samurai of the soul, tends to a garden. For many, the garden is a symbol of the soul. The hard work invested into one's garden will eventually result in what one ends up sowing. Investing time and energy in one's garden both literally and symbolically allows for growth on deeper levels. Assisting with Matsu's and Sachi's literal garden enabled Stephen to see the beauty of nature and the need for positive human interactions. The transformation that his symbolic garden made during the passing of his year in Tarumi left me wanting more.

I kept flipping through the last pages in disbelief. My journey was at an end, and I didn't want it to be. This selection was a great one that has helped me conclude that, "It takes greater courage to live" (Matsu whispered these words to Sachi at an important time in her life). I've realized since my reading that although leprosy was the illness the author chose to focus on, the lessons in this book apply to the every day ‘ills' that we all face, whether it be physical, spiritual, emotional, or financial. We are all in some way or another faced with some kind of burden that can make life unbearable. I recognize the importance of appreciating the beauty in the things around me, be it my surroundings or other people. It was only after Stephen took the time to see the beauty beyond the literal gardens that he was able to see the beauty of the figurative gardens, not only those of his friends', but more importantly, his own. His relationship with Matsu and Sachi grew strong. Although, because of culture no real display of emotion or verbalization of one's feelings took place, there's no doubt that there was an unbreakable bond between them. Stephen saw Matsu as a true samurai, protector, and confidante to those less fortunate.

In Sachi, Stephen saw an inner beauty more valued than the attention placed on outward appearances. After spending the year with Matsu and Sachi, I feel that Stephen was more than ready to work at cultivating his very own garden, which in time would hopefully reap great benefits (hint for sequel, please). It is my hope that I can muster up the courage necessary to continue to cultivate the garden that should matter most to me, my own.

Reading Gail Tsukiyama's Samurai's Garden is for a Japanese-American like myself a testament to the ability of an Asian-American writer to eloquently capture so much of the essence of Japanese culture. Having been born and raised on the Mainland and having lived in Japan for only 2? years, I am in no way an expert in what it truly is to be Japanese; however, much of it was subtly instilled in me by my nisei, Hawaii-born parents. "What is not said" is so much a part of everyday life that it was often quite shocking to visit my friends' homes and witness a much different style of interaction.

I found myself comparing Gaby of American Fuji and Stephen of The Samurai's Garden, who are both foreigners in Japan. Gaby believes she understands "what is left unsaid," and seems to take pride in this knowledge, but at the end she realizes how much she hasn't really understood. Stephen, on the other hand, keenly observes and learns to appreciate and even, he believes, acquires the sense of this quietness. Reading his journal entries is the perfect first-person vehicle for exposing Stephen's observations and reflections on his experience, both sensual and emotional.

Both Gaby and Stephen are torn between their desire to return to the familiarity and relative safety of their home countries and to stay in this land of ever-new cultural experiences. Both are also afflicted with illness, which in varying degrees forces them to remain in Japan. Gaby remains more as an escape from a life she fears will be that of social outcast while appearing to simply accept her status as a gaijin, who will forever be regarded as a foreigner. Still emotionally fragile at the end of the novel, Gaby's future is a bit shaky.

Stephen is very drawn to the way and view of life he has been so intimately experiencing and to the prospect of a budding romance. At the same time, he sorely misses family, friends, and life in China, especially during war-torn 1937. For Stephen, this is a coming-of-age story. Unlike American Fuji, which anecdotally presents snippets of Japanese customs and culture from a decidedly American perspective, The Samurai's Garden tells the story of a young man's growth in one year from a rather spoiled boy of privilege into an insightful young adult who learns much about life, love and duty. His unlikely teachers are Matsu, the gardener at his family's beach house, and Sachi, a disfigured leper living in an isolated mountain village. Matsu is the samurai of the story who tends Stephen's family garden with quiet dignity, following a warrior's code of reserve, bravery and perseverance. Sachi, despite her years of living alone, is also a person of quiet dignity who is full of warmth, understanding and beauty. With the help of these two, Stephen becomes an even more likeable character than at the outset with a bright future in whichever country he chooses to call home.

Not only are the characters, the scenes and the dialogs quiet but so also is the entire tone of the novel. But this is not to say that this is a simple tale. As Stephen becomes closer to his mentors, he learns over time the complicated story of the intertwined lives of Matsu, Sachi and Kenzo, who was once betrothed to Sachi.

I cannot recommend this novel more highly for its eloquence and cultural insights. It is "quiet," but keeps your interest throughout. For me, it is not an easy novel to put down without thinking about how relatively uncomplicated and easy my life is compared to tragic ones of this story.

The book is well written, but I did not enjoy it as much as the previous choices. While it was interesting, I did not get drawn into the characters and therefore didn't really care about them.

Ms. Tsukiyama did an outstanding job of expanding my understanding of the cross cultural problems of Japan and China during the pre-world war 2.

While I felt the time was well spent in reading the Samurai's Garden, it didn't cause me to want to read any other books by the author. But book choices are subjective and each book wouldn't be the choice of every reader.

I appreciate the efforts going into the making of choices for the club and look forward to seeing what the next book will be.

Thanks

Geoff Kragen
Roseville, CA

Dear Wanda and Advertiser Bookclub Members,

The Samurai's Garden is a beautiful book... just like the Matsu's garden, Sachi's garden, and Stephen's paintings. I wanted to savor every page as it unfolded the secrets of each person's life and helped me to understand my own.

As Stephen arrives in Tarumi and writes, (Pg. 7) "I could only breathe in both the fear and attraction of facing the unknown," so is the life each of us face each day.

I learned so much from Sachi and Matsu. Even if Sachi felt at one time, (Pg. 42) "The possibility of having a life had all but vanished," there was the trust she had in Matsu, his love for her, and the friendship they shared. I cried as their love-story unfolded, and I felt honored to be able to share their lives.

The Japanese phrase in the book, DOMO ARIGATO GOZAIMASU, seem to say THANK YOU ... for our lives... no matter what pictures are painted on our canvas. As Sachi would say, "I am very honored."

As this year comes to an end, let us appreciate our lives, just as Sachi and Matsu do. It is an honor to have the life we lead, whatever it is.

Who is the samurai in the story? Matsu? Sachi? Stephen? Or is it EACH OF US ... in our own way.

Domo arigato gozaimasu, I am honored to be able to share with all of us. Happy New Year!

Marilyn Morikawa
Pukalani

Aloha!

I have turned the final page, and I must say I am pleasantly surprised.

While I have been wondering about the "club" reading a male voice (since up until this point, all have been female POVs), I was very skeptical about a male voice in fiction done by a female author. However, Tsukiyama does an excellent job. Her prose is fluid and lyrical, easy to read and intriguing. I kept finding myself saying, "Just one more entry — I'll read just one more then go to bed." Needless to say, I got little sleep during the period I was reading the novel.

There was only one tiny portion of the book I feel took away from the flow of the entire story, and that was when Stephen-san had his dream about Kieko. It felt dirty and betrayful (Is that a word?). I didn't care for that. The rest of the novel, however, was excellent. And I loved Sachi's narration — so beautiful and full of emotion. I yearn to know what happens between her and Matsu in the future.

Aloha no,

Jenn Martin
Mililani

I had read "Samurai's Garden" shortly after its publication date. Because I am such an advocate of the book, its subtle beauty, as well as its lovely imagery, I've loaned it out till it's dog-eared.

I was thrilled that you had selected it and once again dove into the themes of loyalty, devotion and self sacrifice. I have but one regret and that is I cannot see paintings of Sachi's garden and that of Stephen's family's garden in Tarumi!

One of the themes that is strongly communicated is that beauty lies in many places, both on the surface but more importantly below the surface. Sachi is the manifestation of beauty (on the surface) that has been marred but also beauty that has matured (from labors below the surface) and has subsequently risen to the surface.

The most endearing character, however, is Matsu-san. By all descriptions he has never been handsome and somehow knew that from an early age. So he became an in-the-background person...all the while honing his own inner beauty and manifesting it in his devotion to others.

It's obvious that the size of a book is no correlate to its richness and power.

Lillian M. Jeskey-Lubag
Mililani