Riding the East Wind - Hardcover

Kaga, Otohiko; Levy, Ian Hideo

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 477002049X ISBN 13: 9784770020499

Publisher: Kodansha Amer Inc, 1999

Synopsis

In a saga set during World War II, Saburo--a pro-American diplomat--is regarded in the United States as a traitor, while his American wife struggles to live in a country that is at war with her homeland

About this title

About the Author:

The Author: Otohiko Kaga was born in Tokyo in 1929. As a teenager he became a cadet at the Junior Army Academy, and at the age of sixteen he saw his hometown go up in flames. After studying in postwar France, he became a professor of criminal psychology and counselor to prisoners on death row.

Turning to literature in his late thirties, he made his debut with A Winter in Flanders, followed by A Summer Never to Return, a novel based on his wartime experiences, which won the prestigious Tanizaki Prize in 1973. He achieved best-selling status in 1979 with The Sentence, a massive novel about Japan's condemned prisoners, and then Riding the East Wind in 1982, works which established him as a master of the Western-style epic in a country where the short story and the novella had been the main vehicles of serious fiction. He has recently completed The Eternal City, a trilogy about Tokyo in the 1930s and 1940s, crowning a career as an expert literary witness to the effects of war.

Riding the East Wind is his first novel to appear in English.

The Translator: Ian Hideo Levy was born in the United States in 1950 and educated in Taiwan, America, and Japan. He received the American Book Award for The Ten Thousand Leaves, a translation of the classic Japanese poetry anthology, the Manyoshu. With the publication of The Room Where the Star-Spangled Banner Cannot Be Heard, which won the coveted Noma Prize for New Writers, he became the first Westerner ever to be recognized as a writer of original Japanese fiction.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

The Hayate stood on the runway, washed in the clean sunlight. The propellers started turning, and a satisfying roar filled the air. At a hand signal from Ken, one of the ground staff pulled the chocks away. Ken nodded at Yamada, and taxied onto the runway. There were voices on his radio--loud, insistent voices. Headquarters was calling him. They were going to order him to stop.

Ken didn't want to argue. He switched the radio off and started down the runway on his own. At full throttle, he roared down the snow-dappled strip and lifted off. His guns were fully loaded and the plane was heavy, but his engine was running well.

He deliberately headed due north, away from all the hostile aircraft, then banked to the east and began a steep climb. Apparently the Grummans hadn't noticed him, for they all stayed in formation, heading east. Ken guessed the bombers were at 5,000 meters, their fighter escort another 500 higher. When he got up to 6,000 meters, he noticed three Japanese planes at 8,000. They looked like Shokis. Yes, three of them, heading straight down for the B-29s. Ken felt as if he were watching a huge movie screen. As the attacking planes closed in, the Grummans scattered like a school of startled fish, then swept back, several of them taking on each of the intruders. The first Shoki flared like a match and fell away. The second went into a steep dive and managed to escape. Making straight for the tail of one of the B29s, the last of them was only seconds away from a collision when, like a moth flying into a light trap, it hit a curtain of bright tracer fire and dropped away, tumbling in a tailspin. The sight showed just how tight their defenses were.

Ken decided to go up to 7,000 meters. The sky was clear up here, his horizontal visibility excellent. 1000 meters below him, though, was a thin layer of cloud that he could take advantage of for a sudden attack.

The air pressure dropped. Ken felt a stabbing pain in his ears. He blocked his nose and tried to swallow hard, but it didn't seem to help. The flu was doing this to him, just as Yamada had warned. He was about to switch on his thermal suit when he realized he wasn't wearing one. Still, the oxygen was flowing smoothly in his mask.

7,000 meters. He was right above Tokyo now. He watched as the B-29s started unloading their bombs on the city. Flowers of bright flame unfurled on the ground, one after another. Their aim was incredibly accurate: the bombs were dropping only on the districts that had survived the previous raids. There was scattered antiaircraft fire, but it had no effect at all. With the sun at his back, Ken stayed above them, waiting for his chance. Then, from somewhere out of the upper sky, he saw a single Hayate streak down toward the swarm of bombers. It was a Kamikaze, with a bright red rising sun on its fuselage. The pilot might have been one of the teenagers he'd taught to fly himself, a kid like PFC Honda. The pilot had obviously chosen a group of B-29s without a fighter escort, and he made straight for the lead plane. He took a hit on his right wing, and flames shot up. He flew on--on through a thicket of tracer--then crashed into its left wing where it joined the body. The huge frame of the bomber rocked, and burst into flames. Four, then six of its crew ejected. Their parachutes opened. The giant aircraft began to tumble, a trail of purple flames behind it, turning huge spirals in the sky. But what had happened to the Hayate? It must have burst apart on impact. But no, there was one of its wings, and a piece of its rudder, fluttering down. Apparently most of the fuselage was buried in the B-29.

After losing its leader, the rest of the formation was in disarray; the spacing between the planes was ragged, their payloads falling wide of the mark. Ken picked out the one at the rear. 1,000 meters above it, he pushed down hard on his control stick. Mama, here I go! Engine at full power, wind shrieking, speed 700 kph, no flutter. He knew every inch of his Hayate. The target plane pulled out of formation. They see me coming. They're going to shoot. Tracer bullets hurtled at him from every direction--like a bunch of bristling spines. There it is. The join on the main wing, only lightly covered by defensive fire: that's what Haniyu must have aimed for. 300 meters away now. He opens fire. The guns don't work. What's wrong? Damn it, we're hit. Puffs of white smoke from his fuselage and wing. He stabs at the firing button, but nothing happens. Either they've jammed or they've taken an enemy bullet. He's hit again, and again. Flames are now on either side of him. The fuel tank is on fire. It's burning hot. Another 100 meters. My God, it's a huge plane. The gunner on top swivels this way. He's going to shoot. Crash before he hits me! 50 meters... 20... 5. A look of horror on the gunner's face. I did it. IMPACT!

About this edition

• Publisher: Kodansha Amer Inc
• Publication date: 1999
• ISBN 10: 477002049X
• ISBN 13: 9784770020499
• Binding: Hardcover
• Edition number: 1
• Number of pages: 518