“Rivalry- A Geisha’s Tale” by Nagai Kafu (translated by Stephen Snyder)

Kafu was a Japanese aristocrat, who spent time studying in America before returning home to Tokyo. He was enamored by the city’s seedier sides- the theater district, the Geisha houses, tea houses, playhouses, and brothels. This novel is set deep within this unwholesome milieu. The story follows a young woman, Komayo, who has returned to life as a geisha, following her husband’s untimely death. “Had she chosen to live out her days in the quiet backwater of Akita, she would never have known this kind of joy—a thought that made her grateful for all the trials she had endured and made her wonder at the strange turns of human destiny. She felt as though she were understanding for the first time what it truly meant to be a geisha, all the sorrow and the joy. It was odd though: she’d been a geisha yesterday, too, and yet somehow everything was different now.” Komayo has to learn to re-navigate this world full of ceremony, ritual, performance, and patronage. “Eda discreetly took stock of Komayo’s costume, her accessories, and her way of conducting herself in front of guests. None of this, of course, concerned him directly. But since he was in the habit of amusing himself in the company of such women without partaking of the erotic possibilities, he was determined this evening, for Yoshioka’s sake, to make an accurate assessment of Komayo’s worth as a geisha through the eyes of an impartial observer. Every woman in the quarter bore the title of “Shimbashi geisha,” but he knew that they represented a wide range of quality.” The novel details the politics, power dynamics, and honest love affairs that develop in the world inhabited by the geishas. And, of course, the bitter rivalries too. “Now that she’s got such a fine patron, all she has to do is take a lover—an actor, perhaps, like Kikugoro or Kichiemon—and she can have her cake and it too.”

“Lost Christianities” by Bart Ehrman

Ehrman expounds on many of the lost gospels and other apocryphal texts expunged from the modern Christian canon. These texts were often deemed dangerous teachings counter to what the proto-orthodoxy was trying to establish and codify. For instance, the Gospel of Peter came close to endorsing Docetism, the belief that Christ did not suffer and die, either because he was completely divine and could not suffer pain, his body being mere phantasm, or because Jesus the human and Christ the divine were actually two separate beings with the divine leaving the corporal on the Cross. Another text, the Acts of Paul, through the story of his disciple Thecla, endorsed the power of women to baptize and sexual equality in general. This text, through its endorsement of celibacy for laypeople, even in marriage, and asceticism for women, also threatened existing social structures and constructs.

Ehrman deals with three heretic sects in detail. The Ebionite Church believed that all Christians first had to convert to Judaism and follow all the laws of the Torah, including the Sabbath, keeping Kosher, and circumcision. At the other end of the spectrum, the Marcionite Church disavowed the Old Testament entirely, saying the Gospels of Jesus were the only true Christian doctrines. Marcion, the sect’s founder, was the first to compile a canonical scripture (years before a New Testament) that included only the Gospel of Luke and ten Pauline letters, expunged of all references to the Jewish God and Old Testament. The final group, the Gnostics, never setup their own church, but considered themselves an elite within the early Christian Church. Gnostics, Greek for “those in the know”, had secret interpretations of the Gospels which included the view that there was a one true God above other lesser Gods, and that one true God “was totally spirit, totally perfect, incapable of description, beyond attributes and qualities.” They also were docetic in their belief in Jesus Christ. These sects were only later deemed heretical centuries after Jesus’ death as the proto-orthodox consolidated power and won out in creating the canon that became the current New Testament.

“Love in the New Millennium” by Can Xue (translated by Annelise Finegan Wasmoen).

This is a strange novel. “The place doesn’t feel solid, it’s like you—like you’re in a land of illusion!” The plot is filled with sex, murder, intrigue, and busybodies spying on other people’s lives. ““I have something to tell you. Wei Bo and I sleep together every night,” said the ghost of the man dead for many years.” It deals with contemporary China through the shield of allusion. There is an air of mystery in every word. “Your not understanding is understanding.” One is disoriented and doesn’t quite know where it is going next. It is a hard book to read. There is a sense that every word is essential. “Living in the caves would be so much better. You close to me, me close to you, listening to the sounds coming from the earth’s core. People grow discontent, they flatten mountains into the ground and run madly all over like weasels.”

The novel’s story mixes fantasy and reality into an odd tale that doesn’t quite make sense, but doesn’t ever seem too weird either. “His aunt sat in a corner drinking water from a jade brush pot, saying to him, “This is called ‘drinking ink.’ This is education.”” There are allegories wrapped within allegories. Clues are left on every page. “Here you plant things, but don’t hold out hope, it’s no use. You toss them into the soil and forget as soon as possible. We all do this. I used to think that seeds would grow into the plants they were harvested from, but it’s not that way at all. You can wait and see.” Nothing is at all obvious. ““All of the discussions use a method of allusion,” Little Green answered with utter seriousness. “We talk about the weather, about playing chess, about matters of national importance, when in fact our topic is the Gobi Desert. Teacher, do you understand?”” Lush dream sequences pull you in, before being jolted quickly back into whatever reality there is. “A Si pointed with her chopsticks at the salmon’s bones inside the large soup tureen. They saw its skeleton eaten bare of flesh moving around in the soup. It swam in three circles, then paused at the bottom of the tureen and remained still. The three women looked at each other in shock.” The reader is never on sure ground and is forced to struggle for the underlying truth. “Her songs aren’t about our past life, or about the emotional life of people today, but instead about the life we have never even imagined.”

“Death’s End” by Cixin Liu (translated by Ken Liu)

This is the final novel in Liu’s “Remembrance of Earth’s Past” trilogy. Clocking in at over six hundred pages alone, this book brings the trilogy’s total page count to well over fifteen hundred. This story circles back on many of the philosophical themes of the previous books, with a continued emphasis on physics, cosmology, free will, and the nature of language. “If, as soon as you were born, you were locked inside a small box, you wouldn’t care because that was all you’ve known. But once you’ve been let out and they try to put you back in, it feels completely different.” Liu’s story also compels the reader ask what it truly means to be human. “Life reached an evolutionary milestone when it climbed onto land from the ocean, but those first fish that climbed onto land ceased to be fish. Similarly, when humans truly enter space and are free from the Earth, they cease to be human.” This novel’s time scale is also even more epic, with over eighteen million years elapsing during the course of the story. “The known universe is about sixteen billion light-years across, and it’s still expanding. But the speed of light is only three hundred thousand kilometers per second, a snail’s pace. This means that light can never go from one end of the universe to the other. Since nothing can move faster than the speed of light, it follows that no information and motive force can go from one end of the universe to the other. If the universe were a person, his neural signals couldn’t cover his entire body; his brain would not know of the existence of his limbs, and his limbs would not know of the existence of the brain.” However, as in his past novels, this story also remains rooted in the specific lives of a few core characters, who are able to transcend time and keep the reader rooted in humanity’s journey. “This wasn’t a decision born of thought, but buried deep in her genes. These genes could be traced to four billion years ago, when the decision was first made. The subsequent billions of years only strengthened it. Right or wrong, she knew she had no other choice.” This is a novel that makes one deeply ponder the meaning of humanity, the meaning of the universe, and the meaning of time, as well as the meaning of an individual life. “The child that was human civilization had opened the door to her home and glanced outside. The endless night terrified her so much that she shuddered against the expansive and profound darkness.”

“A Hero of Our Time” by Mikhail Lermontov

This is a strange novel that begins disguised as a travelogue. It is considered the first in the Russian psychological style and is said to have been admired by Tolstoy, Dostoevsky, and Turgenev. Lermontov was also an accomplished poet, painter, and soldier. He was exiled twice, spending time stuck in regiments in the Caucasus, from which the plot of this novel is largely based. In the nineteenth century the Caucasus were even wilder than today and Lermontov spent time studying the languages and folklore of the simple peasants. This novel begins recounting the travails of two strangers stuck together traveling the high mountain passes of Ossetia during a blizzard. However, the tales quickly move backwards as one begins to recount stories of his time stationed in a fort near Georgia. He tells of the native peoples, of a dashing aristocratic companion named Pechorin who steals a local Princess for a bride, and her eventual death at the hand of a local rogue.  After more adventures, the narrator comes into possession of a travel diary written by the same aristocratic adventurer, Pechorin. The tales written within border between gallant, weird, and romantic. Pechorin becomes embroiled in a smuggling ring from the Crimea, witnesses a murder of an officer by a Cossack, and finally takes in the spring waters in a picturesque mountain town. There he embarks in a flirtatious affair that ends in heartbreak for many and death for a few. All the tales involved convey the personality of a dandy, at once romantic and melancholy, as he searches for his true life’s purpose amidst the banality of his fellow man.