Fans pick 100 books like Hiroshige

Bashō’s poetic narrative of a journey he made in 1689 to northeastern Honshū is the most famous travelogue in Japanese literature. As a college student in 1970, I read a translation and imagined someday following the path of his journey to see what he saw. Over three decades later, I had the time, resources, and knowledge to make several road trips to do just that. After reading various translations, I found Sato’s the most helpful in understanding why Bashō visited the places he did and what his narrative and poems were about. As we drove along Bashō’s roads, Sato’s annotated text provided insights into the history and culture of Japan and its Tōhoku region. 

The delightful scenes in Hiroshige’s nineteenth-century woodblock print series known as “Fifty-three Stations of the Tōkaidō” beckon travelers to journey along the Tōkaidō, Japan’s most famous Edo Period road. The road connected Kyōto, the ancient Imperial capital, to Edo (Tōkyō), where the shogun’s castle was located. Delord, a French artist, makes the journey on a motor scooter. His book provides historical notes, personal experiences, and sketches and watercolors of the road’s fifty-three stations, or post towns where travelers could find lodging, porters, and packhorses. Delord’s contemporary images of modern asphalted highways and urban landscapes document how the road and towns have changed. But one can still recognize the scenes depicted in Hiroshige’s prints and find remnants of the old road.

Wilson describes his walking journey along the ancient Kiso Road through the Kiso Valley and the stops he made in the eleven post towns along the road. Today, some of the towns, like Narai, Tsumago, and Magome, are popular tourist destinations because they have maintained something of the look and character of the Edo Period, but in Wilson’s narrative, even the lesser known towns have something interesting to offer. Walker describes personal experiences with local people he met in the inns where he stayed and provides historical and literary backgrounds that add depth to his journey. The Kiso Road was the most scenic segment of the Kisokaidō (aka Nakasendō), the inland road between Kyōto and Edo during the nineteenth century.

Jansen’s book reproduces woodblock prints from Hiroshige’s Collection of Prints of Famous Places in the Sixty-odd Provinces (1853–1856), which features a print of a famous place from each of the sixty-eight provinces of Old Japan, plus a print of Edo. When I looked through the prints in 2018, some of the places, were familiar to me; others, I had never heard of. I realized we had visited about a third of the places, so I set out to see the rest. The sites, of course, look different from the prints, but navigating backroads to visit them was always interesting. Among the most memorable places we visited were Hōrai Temple, Monkey Bridge, Yōrō Waterfall, Mt. Haruna Shrine, Kanegasaka, Waterfall Bay, Gōkei Gorge, Gokansho, and the Kannon Hall at Abuto.

What best list would be complete without at least one volume centered on art? Going beyond a focus on single-sheet woodblock prints, this fascinating study takes a broad approach to the so-called “floating world” or demi-monde to consider printed books, including those of an erotic nature. As the title indicates, the book reveals that the collaborative process went well beyond the illustrator to include publishers, brothel owners, and other commercial interests. The author’s reflections on the status of art, the contemporary definition of beauty, and the physicality of the body as perceived by the Japanese will draw the reader in.

I am a big fan of Japanese art, with Japanese woodblock prints in the form of ukiyo-e and hanga at the top of the list. While James Michener might be best known for his novels, he was a very serious collector of woodblock prints and did deep research into the art form. I have in my collection this textbook on the subject, as well as his fine art limited edition books.

Transience and the importance of tiny details are two important underpinnings of Japanese culture, and this book captured them beautifully. I love books that use personal stories to tell an overarching epic, and the rise of Tokyo from a little fishing village to one of the biggest cities in the world is just that.

The author’s poetic style also aligns with how thoughts and phrases would evolve in Japanese, making it very evocative. It is a love letter to this city of contradictions and gives a look into the deeper sides that most visitors would simply not think to ask about. 

This is the first in a three-volume set which I regard as one book. All are a total joy as they offer the reader the chance to read stories mostly not previously available in English. Having read the available famous stories of yurei and yokai to death, I felt like a little kid at Christmas when presented with the whole set (actually at Christmas!). Because the stories were written in many styles from the 1700s to the 2000s, and cover the whole range of Japanese ghost stories, I got a genuine insight into how tales of the Japanese supernatural have developed through the centuries and how the past influences the present. It was also interesting to see how contemporary events, such as World War II, influenced the stories. Just writing this makes me want to dive back into the stories.

A graphic designer by training, Kenya Hara is one of Japan’s most theoretical design thinkers. He steps back and ponders possibility. Especially where the future of Japan is concerned.

Seated in his elegant office in downtown Tokyo, Hara explained to me years ago that Japan once churned out exports but now, as other countries assume that role, Japan must offer something else. In this book he indicates that something else not a physical object. It is the experience of the country’s rich culture, aesthetics, and underlying values.

Living in Tokyo for many years enabled many chances to savor the smell of fresh tatami mats and the toothsomeness of new harvest rice.

Hara’s thoughts resonate with me, but I hope Japan never stops making elegant, user-friendly housewares.

Looking for a well-curated, wide variety of Japanese short stories written by nearly all the famous modernist novelists revered in Japan? This collection contains everything from Kawabata’s "The Izu Dancer" to Satomi Ton’s marvelously deep story called "Blowfish", wherein the hero—a famously talented Kabuki actor succumbs to the kind of brain-fogging, body-busting death that only blowfish poison can deliver. The author manages to get inside the head of his character, uncovering what transitioning into death feels like, with humor sprinkled here and there, and an emotional recollection/revelation about his own actor-father dying in a theater fire.