Most of us discovered Mochizuki Minetarô with Dragonhead, a story as desperate as it was claustrophobic, where the end of the world had rarely been so bleak. He's back now with Chiisakobe, with a narrative both luminous and delicate -- and deeply Japanese. From darkness to light, the story of a metamorphosis.
Xavier Guilbert : 2016 marks the thirtieth year of your career, since you debuted in 1986 with Bataashi Kingyô. As for myself, and like a lot of international readers I guess, I discovered your work with Dragonhead.
Mochizuki Minetarô : Originally, Dragonhead‘s core theme is rather terse, and we feared it wouldn’t have any success. The publisher had considered this possibility, but in the end we were surprised by how much success it received.
Xavier Guilbert : Regarding the themes, there are some parallels with Umezu Kazuo’s The Drifting Classroom — and even more so since your earliest series (Bataashi Kingyô or Bikemen) can also bring to mind Makoto-chan, another series from Umezu Kazuo. How much of an influence was he on you ? Or is that apocalyptic vision of Japan part of a larger shared imagery ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : Absolutely, I’ve been influenced by the works of Umezu. He is a creator I’ve immensely respected since I was a kid. I think that when I was in primary school, at the time I was reading manga the most, I read a lot of his books.
Xavier Guilbert : You then move from Dragonhead, a claustrophobic story — even when the characters go outside, there are always heavy clouds overhead — to Maiwai, a pirate story set under the sun, on open seas. So a radical change in atmosphere, with a very different relation to space.
Mochizuki Minetarô : When I’m drawing, even if I’m not conscious of it, the situation of Japan always seeps through. It’s like I was feeling with my skin what is happening around me, in Japanese society. When I was working on Dragonhead, there was the Kôbe earthquake in 1995, and that tragic event probably influenced the narrative of this manga. Prior to that, there had been the bursting of the bubble economy in Japan, during which everything which was highly coveted became worthless overnight. There was nothing left for us, and for me it was as if invisible monsters where hiding out in the world. But at the same time, the bursting of that bubble economy also caused some sort of liberation, which in turn probably ended up in Maiwai. But I couldn’t precisely explain why, since that’s an unconscious process.
Xavier Guilbert : The idea of the quest is a common thread both in Dragonhead and Maiwai. In Dragonhead, it’s about trying to get back to Tôkyô, since that’s where the characters live, but also in order to understand what actually happened. In Maiwai, there’s this search for a treasure island, which is also some kind of legacy that the main character, Funako, received from her grandfather. Chiisakobe marks a break with this theme since if there’s a quest, it is first and foremost an interior one.
Mochizuki Minetarô : Indeed, as you say, there’s this idea of the quest. In Dragonhead, there’s the fact that it’s not so much the idea of a trip but of wandering, since in a trip there’s a starting point and an objective. While here, there’s no possible way back, and the ending point is a total unknown. Whereas in Maiwai, there’s a clear objective, it’s about finding the treasure, and there’s a planned return. In Chiisakobe, there is a search, a destination, and the story tells of all the successive stages until the main character reaches this objective.
Xavier Guilbert : Moreover, compared to Dragonhead and Maiwai that both belong in rather international genres, Chiisakobe is deeply Japanese at the core. It’s also the adaptation of a novella by Yamamoto Shûgoro dating back to 1957, which from what I’ve seen is rather obscure (the only available edition in Japan is dated 1974). How did you come to encounter that story, and what inspired you to adapt in as a manga ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : After I finished drawing Maiwai, I had a vague idea of what I probably wanted to do, as a manga, and I thought that if I kept on working in that direction, I would end up doing something totally new. That’s the reason why I thought I’d work from a novel, or at least an existing narrative. That was a challenge for me, a radically different way to do things compared to what I had done until that point — apocalyptic stories or adventures. And it was entirely possible it would be much difficult to come up with something more traditional.
Xavier Guilbert : Chiisakobe is special in that it’s adapted from a novel. I have the impression that’s fairly rare in Japan — there’s Inoue Takehiko’s Vagabond, which is inspired by Yoshikawa Eiji’s Musashi, but it’s only this, an inspiration. The two names are not written on the cover, while this adaptation aspect is clearly acknowledged for Chiisakobe.
Terazawa Kôzô (Mochizuki Minetarô’s editor) : Indeed, that’s not a common practice, but it happens from time to time that works of literature end up being adapted in manga form.
Xavier Guilbert : From an editor’s point of view, how do you see it ?
Terazawa Kôzô (Mochizuki Minetarô’s editor) : I can’t really tell you if it’s positive or negative, but to explain a little how this project came to be, Mochizuki Minetarô had in mind different themes he wanted to approach, and he asked me to help him find a work of literature that would allow him, in manga form, to deal with all those themes. But it’s really by pure chance that we ended up choosing this story from Yamamoto Shûgoro, Chiisakobe.
Xavier Guilbert : So that was definitely a request from Mochizuki Minetarô to make an adaptation. I’m asking the question because I see that after Tôkyô Kaidô, there’s nearly a three-year period where you don’t publish anything…
Mochizuki Minetarô : As you said, until now I had approached creation all by myself, head-on, but I was beginning to see the limits of such a method. I was worried that by sticking to this kind of process, I’d end up repeating the same patterns again and again. Oh, for sure, I had not reached that point yet, but I felt that was a definite risk, and in order to come up with something new, I thought I might have to go through — I had to find some original work to adapt in manga. And that’s why I asked mister Terazawa for help.
Xavier Guilbert : Did the fact that Yamamoto Shûgoro has been adapted for the silver screen by Kurosawa Akira play any role in that choice ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : No, none at all. Indeed, I knew that Yamamoto Shûgoro had been adapted both in movies and plays, but that has had no influence at all in my choice of adapting Chiisakobe. There were different themes I wanted to approach : craftsmanship, values, and this very Japanese aspect. I presented those themes to my editor, mister Terazawa, asking him if he could think of a novel that maybe, I could try and adapt. And this is how he came up with Chiisakobe. For sure, as you said, it’s not his most famous novel. I had read other books by Yamamoto Shûgoro, but I didn’t know that one. But reading it, I thought : « This is perfect, this is exactly what I was looking for. » And I adapted it in manga form.
Xavier Guilbert : The narrative of Chiisakobe is originally set during the Edo era [1603-1868]. Even if your version is set today, it’s difficult to date considering how indicators of modernity (mobile phones, Internet, and so on) are absent from the story. Why did you choose to set the story in modern times, and why this decision to render it somehow non-temporally ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : To be honest, I hesitated a lot before deciding to set the story in a more modern time. Originally, I wanted to keep the medieval setting : the manga was set during the Edo era. I did different attempts, four in total, but there was always something that didn’t work, and I came to the conclusion that the version you’ve read was the best. Since he was a carpenter, that’s something that also worked in a contemporary setting. The two and a half years you mentioned before also represented that period of reflection on the temporality of the narrative in Chiisakobe.
Xavier Guilbert : There are a lot of traditional elements, from the main character’s occupation (as you said, carpentry) to the preparation of meals which is a recurring topic in the narrative, and also life in a traditional Japanese house.
Mochizuki Minetarô : Yes, this very Japanese aspect was deliberate on my part. And it is true that in the novels by Yamamoto Shûgoro — not only Chiisakobe, but more generally — there’s a very universal aspect in the themes he tackles.
Stéphane Beaujean : What were the elements from the novels that might have surprised you and that you wanted to use ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : As mister Terazawa said earlier, I was more interested in the themes of this work, rather than in its literary qualities. But working on this adaptation, I started reading more closely this story by Yamamoto Shûgoro, and this it when you start reading between the lines. I ended up discovering a lot of things that Yamamoto Shûgoro wanted to express, and I realized it was a real challenge to try and evoke them in the manga.
Just to give you an example — I’m not going to give you an example from Yamamoto Shûgoro, because it can be rather abstract, but you certainly know the writer Sôseki Natsume, who did a lot of translations from English to Japanese. And to give you an example, to translate « I love you », he chose to write in Japanese « The moon is bright ». Because for him, that sentence was really the best translation possible to capture the whole atmosphere surrounding this « I love you ». It’s exactly the same thing I’ve noticed with Yamamoto Shûgoro : behind the words, there was a whole atmosphere, an untold dimension that called for imagination, and that I enjoyed immensely bringing to the manga.
Xavier Guilbert : Reading Chiisakobe, I’ve been reminded of movies by Ozu Yasujirô. Among those I have seen, there’s Late Autumn [Akibiyori], in which a woman becomes a widow while still fairly young, and her daughter decides she won’t marry before her mother remarries. There’s this aspect that’s rather frequent in Japanese literature, of favoring duty over one’s own life — in a way, respecting the established order. And that’s something that’s also at the core of Chiisakobe, with the different characters.
Mochizuki Minetarô : Indeed, the question of duty is very important. But I thought that wouldn’t be enough, that it needed — something a little more pop. Which is why I introduced other elements. Then again, regarding Ozu, it’s true that he’s considered abroad as a very Japanese director, but for me he’s actually definitely avant-garde.
Xavier Guilbert : That is indeed the case in the movie I was talking about, because there’s the opposition between the mother, always dressed with a traditional kimono, and the daughter, who’s wearing Western clothes. This opposition is very present in Ozu’s movies, between the Japan of the Shôwa era, and the Japan that is about to enter the modern age with the evolution we all know.
Mochizuki Minetarô : Regarding Chiisakobe, I’ve often been asked if there was a conscious influence from Ozu’s movies. Actually, I consider that the influence of Kurosawa Akira is much more present. In fact, Kurosawa has directed the movie adaptations of a number of novels by Yamamoto Shûgoro, like Dodesukaden or Red Beard [Akahige]. Indeed, in Ozu’s movies, the mood is rather quiet, while I think Kurosawa’s movies are much more dynamic. And if at first sight Chiisakobe appears to be a very quiet manga, when I was drawing it I felt I was creating something very dynamic. In Chiisakobe, in order to convey this idea of movement, I’ve really played with assembling objects, for instance — everything is really planned and conscious in the way I arrange elements in my art. Actually, I would maybe compare it with Noh theater, with Kyôgen, which is usually very slow, actors make very small moves, and all of a sudden they’re going to do something very intense, which brings surprise and impact. In a way, this is what I’ve tried to do with Chiisakobe. To have sudden drives that will impact the reader even more.
Xavier Guilbert : You mentioned Noh, and for me it evokes a theme that is present, in a way, in Chiisakobe. I’m talking about the idea of masks, something that has been featured often in your previous works. And going further than the mask, there’s often this idea of an hidden gaze, often associated with anxiety and madness.
Mochizuki Minetarô : To begin with, I have to confess it is very hard for me to look people in the eye when I’m talking with them (laugh). I’m always looking slightly down and across. So the fact that for a lot of my characters, you can’t see the eyes, that’s not entirely a conscious decision. Yet, it’s true that people often say that in manga, emotions are conveyed through the eyes. Eyes are extremely important, but I have some sort of phobia, fear of the other. I might be past the age when you are scared of people and shy, but it’s true that eyes express — you can imagine all sorts of things looking in the eyes of another person. So yes, I’ve often been told that the eyes of my characters were not always visible. That’s not entirely conscious on my part.
Xavier Guilbert : There’s also this pattern of hair obscuring the face in your two most recent series, like with Hashi, the protagonist of Tôkyô Kaidô, which was published just before Chiisakobe. I can think of other figures (Gegege no Kitarô, characters from the traditional horror stories of the Yotsuya Kaidan, or even Sadako from the Ringu series) in Japanese imagery, where hair obscuring the gaze is associated with something deeply unsettling.
Mochizuki Minetarô : Regarding all those figures you mention, I wonder if they couldn’t be explained simply by this fear of communicating of the Japanese people. I think that Japanese people always struggle with interpersonal communication. Maybe the fact that you cannot see the eyes makes it impossible to communicate, which in turn could foster anxiety and fear. As for myself, it’s not so much about hiding the eyes as it is about mystery. For Chiisakobe, again, things are completely different. In this story, it’s through movements, gestures, attitudes, clothes — all these elements are ways to unveil the feelings of the characters and build the narrative.
Stéphane Beaujean : What kind of challenges have you faced for this adaptation ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : For instance, the fact that Chiisakobe is a story that deals mainly with daily life, with an economy of means, and that there are very few dynamic moments — at least, a dynamic that is not obvious when you read that novel for the first time. To wit, the scene where Ritsu is making onigiri, for me, it was a very important scene to represent daily life. It was as if I was hearing Yamamoto telling me : « You have to put this drawing in the manga. » I wanted, with this image, to get the reader wondering who Ristu was preparing these onigiri for, and what were her feelings while she was making them.
Xavier Guilbert : How did you find the right distance from the novel ? There’s the saying that any translation involves some form of betrayal, and in adaptation there’s also a dimension of appropriation. How important is the respect for the original material ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : This is a tough question… For me, this story was really an invitation to imagine. Just like that sentence, « the moon is bright. » I am Japanese, and Japanese people tend not to say things directly, they take detours to express an idea. And this personality did really fit with my way of communicating, and that’s why I found it very interesting to express it in manga form. Moreover, it’s really while I was working on Chiisakobe that I realized that this was what literature was actually about. There has been this realization, while I was doing the adaptation.
Xavier Guilbert : In Chiisakobe, the graphical aspect is very important. Over the course of your thirty-year career, your style has evolved a lot, and also reveals the central role of female characters. Characters who, in my opinion, have become more and more present and hold now a central place in your stories.
Mochizuki Minetarô : I was telling you earlier that I feel with my skin when I’m drawing. For me, I have the feeling that when it’s about reaching for an objective, the first image that comes to me is that of a woman. I feel more and more that men have a tendency to turn feminine, to be mired in narcissism, to have some kind of naïveté, while I think that women are much more open and energetic. Therefore, in Maiwai for instance, when I considered this plot involving investigation and treasure, it felt much more realistic to turn to a female protagonist for that role.
Xavier Guilbert : In Chiisakobe, there’s also the opposition between two types of women : Yûko, the modern woman, and Ritsu, the more traditional one, even in the way she looks.
Mochizuki Minetarô : For me, actually, the character of Yûko is not realistic. She’s right out of a fantasy. It’s difficult to express it with words… it’s difficult to talk about girls (laugh).
Xavier Guilbert : Then let’s change the subject, so that we don’t put you on the spot. In this stylistic evolution, there’s a real breaking point : starting with Tôkyô Kaidô, you establish a sort of quiet that is really striking, and it’s also when you decided to change the way you write your name (the first name, originally written with Chinese characters [kanji], is now written using one of the two Japanese syllabic systems [katakana]). As if you were conscious yourself of having gone through a transformation.
Mochizuki Minetarô : It’s true that after Dragonhead and especially when I finished Maiwai, I had the feeling I was heading for the wrong direction. I was really questioning a lot my own language. I was really striving for a change, but the problem was that both my readers and my publisher had an established image of my work that was threatening to render me prisoner of a certain box. It is the case for all manga artists, but in my case I really had this feeling I needed to do something else, that I had to go in another direction altogether. That’s the reason why I had my art evolve, and also why I consciously changed my name. So that I could really start anew, and the first manga I approached that way was Tôkyô Kaidô.
Xavier Guilbert : This is really striking when one puts side by side two actions scenes, one that happens at the very beginning of Maiwai, and the other in the middle of the first volume of Tôkyô Kaidô. The different of approach is obvious, for instance when it comes to the movement lines. But when one reads your works closely, it appears this is not a complete change : a lot of these aspects are already present, albeit as potentialities, within your previous works.
Mochizuki Minetarô : Indeed, I was saying earlier that it was close to the end of Maiwai, but already with Dragonhead I was feeling kind of disconnect. I did tell you that for Dragonhead, I had originally envisioned the story to be very low-key. True, it’s about being terrified, but that’s a very internal terror. There is indeed a volcanic eruption and all this, but the narrative revolves mostly around the feelings of those characters, that was what I wanted to put forward. And I had really warned my publisher that I wanted the story to remain low-key, up until the end. But it was received in an entirely different way, and I felt a kind of disconnect, of embarrassment, with this situation.
Regarding the action scenes in Maiwai — to be honest, I really struggle drawing action scenes, and for me, this is a botched drawing. So there’s always been this feeling of disconnect, of unease, and I changed my name and my style in order to get rid of that. I started working with that style with Tôkyô Kaidô, which I did right before Chiisakobe, even if this paired-down aspect became much more present in Chiisakobe. Previously, I tended to think that adding more lines allowed to give the art more strength, but to the contrary I realized later that working on space and leaving the whiteness of the page, that was what brought strength to my art. And I think that — I’m a little embarrassed to say that myself — that I did pull it off quite well with Chiisakobe (laugh).
Xavier Guilbert : With Chiisakobe, you’re starting from written material to create something that’s very visual and that relies a lot on juxtaposition of shapes and structures. Has Yamamoto Shûgoro’s style influenced your own way of approaching a narrative ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : I couldn’t express it with words (laugh). Actually, that’s something I only learned of later, but I’ve heard that Yamamoto Shûgoro — not for Chiisakobe, but for another series he was publishing in a magazine — had explicitly required that there would not be any illustrations. He wanted not to be any illustration alongside his work, to actually leave room for the reader to imagine and read between the lines. Imagining by himself, then, the humanity, the personality of the characters in the story. That was a big surprise for me, but at the same time I thought that it was indeed a great decision to have chosen that author for a pictorial adaptation.
Xavier Guilbert : There is another aspect for which one can find traces since Dragonhead, and even in your previous works : the way you handle gazes. You were saying that you found it hard to look people in the eye. In Chiisakobe, it’s very obvious, especially since the reader is often in a position of internal focalisation, where one follows the gaze of the main character. During a long sequence of the second volume, Shigeji has a conversation with Yûko, and one follows his gaze that slides — faces disappear in the panel tops, there’s a lot of feet… and the sequence is book-ended by those two full-body shots, first when he spots her, and then when she leaves. It’s a very subtle process, in what those gazes reveals between characters who are often struggling to express what they feel.
Mochizuki Minetarô : There’s also the fact that I have a foot fetish (laugh). But I really wanted to show daily life in Chiisakobe, and that’s a fact, one tends to look at people’s feet. Not showing that in the art, denying it, that also meant sort of denying the daily aspects of life, and ultimately that’s why I included those pages in the manga.
Stéphane Beaujean : In Chiisakobe, the storytelling revolves around unspoken feelings. Do you think there are things that can be told more easily in a novel, and others that would be easier to express in manga form ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : I don’t know if I really have any answer to this question. Still, I somehow process in reverse : for instance, if you take the character of Ritsu, she has exactly the same personality as the character in the original novel, except there’s much more details in Yamamoto’s story about the life she’s had. But in my case, I realized that in manga, there was no need to give those details. With just the way she buttons her blouse, the fact that Ritsu is the type of girl to button it all the way up, that reveals something about her personality. Without the need for any explanation, it’s clear what type of person Ristu is. In this, it was easier in the manga, maybe, without any words, to express a character’s personality. Similarly, I did create the characters in Chiisakobe this way, but I’m very much aware that this is my interpretation of those characters, based on my reading of Yamamoto. Moreover, the original story is only forty pages long, so it’s very short.
Xavier Guilbert : It is a well-known fact that in Japan, editors work closely with authors during the creation of a manga. Mister Terazawa, considering all we just discussed, did this particular project require a specific contribution from you ? Have you noticed if Mochizuki Minetarô was facing difficulties that were significantly different from those faced when creating an original story ?
Terazawa Kôzô (Mochizuki Minetarô’s editor) : Indeed, it is common that an editor steps in and helps a manga author. Here, like I told you earlier, it was the case for the choice of the novel. After that, there hasn’t been any specific difficulty, except the fact that Yamamoto Shûgoro is a well-known author, and regarding the right-holders, it was important to be careful and remain respectful of the original material. Other than that, we had meeting together, we discussed how the project was progressing, but there hasn’t really been any specific direct input on my part in the creation of this work.
Stéphane Beaujean : How was working from an existing written material enjoyable (or not) for you ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : I would say that, right when I started reading it, a lot of pictures came to my mind. So really, throughout most of the creative process, I’ve really enjoyed myself and I had a lot of fun. There haven’t been many difficult moments. Of course, and maybe particularly for those parts where one has to read between the lines to understand what Yamamoto meant, there was indeed a lot of thought put into figuring out how to express it in manga. During those moments, I was trying to picture how I wanted the reader to feel the scene. I really thought about tempo, about that time when you turn the page, what picture the reader will see, the page breakdown and so on. So yes, that whole process was rather painful for me, but at the same time it was an experience that had taught me a lot, and I really had fun doing this adaptation.
Xavier Guilbert : As I said earlier, preparing for this talk, I discovered (based on Amazon Japan) that the only available edition of Chiisakobe the novel dates back to 1974. Do you know whether your adaptation has rekindled interest for that novel ?
Terazawa Kôzô (Mochizuki Minetarô’s editor) : When Japanese people wish to read the original novel, they have to turn to the publisher Shinchô Bunkô. And this publisher has contacted me because they would like mister Mochizuki to create the wrap-around band for their new edition. So indeed, this manga has maybe contributed to rekindling the interest of new readers for the original novel.
Stéphane Beaujean : Your style has much evolved, and particularly in this latest work. Now that the series is done and that you can come back and read it, do you identify any evolution in your storytelling that came from working on this adaptation ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : Among the things that surprised me after adapting Yamamoto in manga form — well, I knew he had been adapted by Kurosawa, but I didn’t know that his novels were so… so
great, quite simply. I knew the Kurosawa movies, like Dodesukaden or Tsubaki Sanjûrô adapted from Yamamoto were very good movies, but I wasn’t aware at the time that the original material was of such quality. I’m almost sorry it is not a better-known fact.
Once I finished Chiisakobe, I wanted to share my reading of Yamamoto Shûgoro’s novel with as many people as possible. Until then, I hadn’t been keen on participating in events as a manga-ka, but I took it upon me to do talks, to participate in panels. I’ve been very surprised to see that there were a lot of young people in the audience. Usually, my readers are people who have followed my career over the past thirty years, so they are mostly in their forties. But in fact, there were a lot of art students and people in their twenties, that really came as a surprise to me to discover that the readers of Chiisakobe were young people.
Xavier Guilbert : In my opinion, Chiisakobe is really a work of maturity. It’s often said that young Japanese people have a tendency to reject tradition, and are rarely interested in anything related to history. I have the impression that as they age, Japanese people rediscover an appreciation for the past.
Mochizuki Minetarô : For sure, I think I have reached the age of maturity, now. It’s true that I feel that, with Chiisakobe, I managed to express what I wanted to. It also allowed me to realize things with which I was struggling more. But overall, yes, I do really think it is up to what I pictured and wanted to deliver.
Xavier Guilbert : It’s rather striking that you say that. Especially considering Tôkyô Kaidô, which was released before and relies on a similar kind of storytelling and stylistic approach. At the heart of Tôkyô Kaidô lies mostly the question of identity, of trying to find oneself, and eventually managing to live with oneself — since the narrative revolves around characters who are undergoing psychiatric treatment, and suffer from various pathologies. It’s as if Tôkyô Kaidô had been for you some sort of therapy, leading to the peace of mind that allowed you to do Chiisakobe…
Mochizuki Minetarô : Yes, I think it is exactly as you describe. Tôkyô Kaidô was a necessary step in order to prepare myself to Chiisakobe, and the themes I wanted to explore.
Xavier Guilbert : To get back to the subject of adaptations — you yourself, have had many of your works adapted : for the silver screen, with Samehada Otoko to Momojiri Onna, Dragonhead or Bataashi Kingyô, and for television with O-cha no Ma. As an author, how do you look at those adaptations ? And has having adapted the work of someone else changed your outlook on adaptations ?
Mochizuki Minetarô : So far, for the movie adaptations of my works, there was a stage where we discussed with the director or the scriptwriter, but as long as they respected the overall theme of the story, I kept out of the whole process. But now that I have adapted Chiisakobe in manga form, if one of my works was to be adapted as a movie, I’d probably want to control everything. In Chiisakobe, really, from page layout to cover design, from the first to the last page, I have controlled everything, and I realized how much enjoyment that could bring to the reader. That’s the reason I think I’d really like to have total control over every aspect.
Xavier Guilbert : To finish with, do you think you will try your hand again at adapting another novel ? Be it from Yamamoto Shûgoro or someone else…
Mochizuki Minetarô : I don’t know whether this will happen, but anyways I really realized that there were a lot of literary works that could pique my imagination. I don’t know what the future holds, but I would really like to connect this experience I’ve had adapting a literary work in manga with my next project.
[Interview conducted in public during the Angoulême Festival, on January 29-30, 2016. A huge thank you to Miyako Slocombe for her faultless translation skills, and to Andrew White for proof-reading this translation.]