Tachi-yomi

When I was a student, I was deeply into Philosophy for the time being. Back then, I was totally uncertain of who I am, where I am heading for, or what I ought to be like (I still have this streak, to be perfectly honest).I picked up one Philosophical book after another in the hope that I would come across a certain kind of truth of life or meaning of life in those convoluted books. Surely I was motivated by some kind of pretentiousness to some extent. But I think that my curiosity for unknown things were genuine and justifiable.

I still remember the comments of one Japanese philosopher quite vividly. He argues that there is nothing more important to a philosopher than a wonder that We live here and now and that We will inevitably die in the future. If you realize the fact that We are all mortal, you won't be able to escape from that significant reality for a moment. Whatever you think of or wherever you are, you will be overwhelmed with the miracle of our existence and start thinking that anything else is just either trivial things or sideshows. A philosopher is not a scholar who expounds, dissects, or butchers theories of others. A philosopher is a person who keeps thinking things only from that point using his or her own words.This is not his exact comments, but he said to that effect.

Ikeda Akiko is definitely a philosopher from this point of view. The other day, I happened to take up her book at Kinokuniya book store. In that book, she talks about a variety of matters with decided candidness almost bordering on cruelty. The topics range from politics, education, royal family, history, to feminism, life and death. What I was really impressed with is her absolute consistency. Behind her unrelenting arguments are always her wonder that We live in this time and age and her acceptance that We are all mortal. She is always straight to essences, doesn't give a damn with temporary things, such as fame or status. Most of her opinions might fall into deaf ears because we are busy in pursuing our infatuations in day-to-day life. But this short essay reminded me of the priority of what is important and the wonder that We live now and We are mortal. The more would it be so when we know that she passed away at the age of forty-six this year.

I am pretty sure that there is no translations of her works, which is a pity for Japanese as well as non-Japanese. Knowing wonderful authors sometimes changes or even characterizes your image of that country, as Paul Auster did America for me.