Hello again! I took a day off blogging yesterday because I was really tired and decided that instead of just recapping my day, I would try writing a discussion post – it’s the one that you saw earlier today! And doing that was actually really energising, which helped me regain the momentum for today.

As I mentioned, I’m rereading some of Endo Shusaku’s works right now! I last read Kiku’s Prayer when it was first published in English – all the way back in 2012 (though oddly, Goodreads dates it as 2019)! My favourite work from Endo is Silence but I am definitely enjoying Kiku’s prayer, if “enjoying” is an appropriate word.

If you’re familiar with Endo’s life and his struggle with Christianity – the religion he tried to reject and then accepted – you’ll not be surprised by the themes of this book. The question of whether Christianity is suitable for Japan (also explored in Silence) figures prominently as the Shogunate continues to persecute the Japanese Christians, even though they have already opened up and allowed foreigners into the country. Come to think of it, Endo goes one step further and asks the question: is faith a personal or collective endeavour? Is it possible to be a good citizen if you believe in something outside the proscribed choices?

Interestingly, Endo chooses a non-Christian as his central character. Kiku is a typical Japanese girl who falls in love with Seikichi, one of the Japanese Christians. While this is not a romance novel, her love is the driving force behind her feelings of anger towards Christianity – for the fact that it places Seikichi in danger and also because she is jealous of his devotion towards Mary. Things have been taking a darker turn in the last few chapters I read so I expect the book to at least prick my heart a little by the end.

Another interesting choice is Endo’s narrative style. He writes it very much like a biography, talking about what others would recount and pointing out to the reader what they would see in Nagasaki now compared to when the story takes place. There are also a lot of footnotes – too many, I think, for it to be the translator’s additions. The collective effect is that this book straddles the line between fiction and nonfiction – it’s a novel but it doesn’t quite feel like one.

I’m amazed that it took me over a decade to come back to this book, but I’m glad I did.