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That assertion would seem to present new evidence of Japan's literary resurgence. But there is an equal and opposite force at work in the country, and pessimists cite it as an indication of decline. "It used to be that every potential intellectual in Japan read Hegel or Kant," laments Keene. "But no more. The people who seven or eight years ago were reading Romain Rolland are now reading comics."
That is not an exaggeration. Manga, Japanese comic books, are more adult and more insidious than TV. Unlike the pulpy, stapled American product, manga are well bound and published in paperback size. The drawings are cinematic, displaying heroes and heroines in explicit sexual and military-war adventures. In recent years, manga have grown into a billion-dollar publishing venture. Doraemon, an atomic-powered robot cat, makes Garfield look like something the human dragged in. Created in 1970, Doraemon has now appeared in a 26-volume collection with sales of $50 million. In 1980 Akira Toriyama sold 15 million copies of his 17-volume sci-fi comic Dr. Slump. There is even a manga temple outside Tokyo where, above the central altar, a legend is inscribed: THE IDEAL PRIEST:
CARTOONS AND THE SEARCH FOR TRUTH.
Comic books, educators agree, have played a distressingly important role in lowering literary standards. Junzo Iwase, president of K.K. Bestsellers, a thriving Tokyo house, gave up publishing novels several years ago. His 100 annual titles range in subject matter from moneymaking to politics, from sports to erotica. Says Iwase: "Our readers are sarariman (salary men) whose favorite topics of conversation are office affairs and professional baseball. We knew there was a tremendous market there." Last year K.K. presented the market with How to Enjoy Baseball Ten Times More by Takenori Emoto, a former professional baseball player ("You feel tempted to make fun of the 50,000 spectators"). The book was ghosted like many of K.K.'s assembly-line products. "Sometimes we think of the title first and then make the book to fit it," Iwase explains. "Take the new bestseller It's a Fun World Because Politics Stinks, which has sold 100,000 copies since last May. The title is provocative and eyecatching because it contradicts common sense. I knew it would tickle the readers' curiosity." Few bestsellers have tickled as successfully as Totto-Chan, The Little Girl at the Window—childhood reminiscences of TV Celebrity Tetsuko Kuroyanagi.
Is the Japanese writer's life beset with the hazards of suicide and silence, commercialism and inattention? Or does it take place in an unusually literate arena, where new works are still given an avid and intelligent reception? The evidence is conflicting. To be sure, every year, potentially serious readers turn from Kawataba to Mighty Atom. But every year fresh contestants enter poetry and fiction competitions. If some serious publishers have closed their doors, others offer a profusion of monthly, bimonthly and weekly magazines, about 2,000 in all.