Murata Sayaka: Revealing Truth Through Fantasy

A convenience store is a world of sound.

From the tinkle of the door chime to the voices of TV celebrities advertising new products over the in-store cable network, to the calls of the store workers, the beeps of the bar code scanner,

the rustle of customers picking up items and placing them in baskets, and the clacking of heels walking around the store.

It all blends into the convenience store sound that ceaselessly caresses my eardrums.

This is how "Convenience Store Woman," a novel which was published in Japan in 2016, starts.

Today's guest is the writer of the story.

A novelist whose works have been translated and are being read all over the globe.

The protagonist is a woman who's been working part-time at a convenience store for 18 years.

Unable to fit into society, she believes that the convenience store, with its perfect set of rules,

is the only place where she can feel she's a part of the normal world.

One day, however, her way of life is disrupted, and things start to fall apart.

"Convenience Store Woman" was selected as one of "The Best Books of 2018" by The New Yorker magazine.

It's been translated into more than 30 languages.

The protagonist is a woman who's been working part-time at a convenience store for 18 years.

The author, Murata Sayaka, based the story on her own experience as a convenience store clerk.

Murata's works question what it means to be "normal."

Her perspective has struck a chord with people all over the world, and she's frequently invited to literary events overseas.

For Murata, what constitutes the border between ordinary and extraordinary?

She shares the source of her creativity.

I've had the opportunity to read several of your works.

And every single one of them depicts people who are going about their everyday life with a sense of alienation, people who are struggling to fit in or find their place.

You question the very definition of what is "right," of what it means to be "normal."

That's something I find to be very thought provoking and inspiring.

When I write a novel, I'm seeing the world through the eyes of the protagonist's brain, or rather, through the way they think and the environment in which they were raised,

so I start to notice things that I personally, as Murata Sayaka, wouldn't be aware of.

People's facial expressions suddenly seem grotesque.

Ordinary phrases suddenly seem terrifying.

Writing allows me to express this sense of doubt or discomfort with what society determines to be normal.

It's so nice to hear you say that you were able to relate to this.

I think your novels have helped broaden my perspective on people.

Murata questions taboos related to social or cultural norms, exposing grotesque aspects of human nature.

Take for example, her work "Life Ceremony" published in 2019.

In a world dominated by the fear of human extinction, a "life ceremony" is held in place of a funeral.

Guests feast on the remains of the dead and seek out partners with whom they can reproduce.

In the context of rapidly changing values, what does it mean to be "normal?"

For Murata, who has continued to ask herself this question, the origin of her creativity can be found in this kanji character.

"Fantasy."

So, until now, I've been living all my life alongside friends who other people might think of as being phantoms or facets of my imagination.

My life is still based in this fantasy world.

I only step out into the real world to write.

It's like I'm traveling through space from the comfort of my bed.

I come to coffee shops like this to write.

If I wasn't writing novels, I'd probably be immersed in my fantasy world surrounded by my imaginary friends.

It's where I belong.

What kind of power do you think fantasies have?

Well, I think that in the end, truth can be found somewhere deep in the fantasy world.

What people consider to be real is basically an illusion, and the truth -true words, conversations, and expressions-

are hidden within what most people think of as being a fantasy.

Sometimes I feel as if our true nature, our monstrosity, lurks somewhere within this fantasy world.

Ever since I was a child, I'd always had this longing to be normal, like other people.

But I've now come to realize that the very idea of "normal" is an illusion.

Recently, I sometimes think that back then what I was seeking was part of a grand, shared illusion.

Wow, what you just said was truly an eye-opener for me.

Perhaps fantasy is something which can lead us to truth.

I found that idea to be quite revelatory.

I'd like to ask you, do you have a specific process for your writing?

In my case, I draw sketches in a notebook.

How do they relate to your creative output?

I'm in the process of writing a short story.

This girl I've drawn doesn't have a good relationship with her older sister.

She's actually the sister of the protagonist's friend.

She's quite shy.

Murata sketches portraits of her characters.

It's a ritual that's essential to her writing.

In addition, she makes detailed notes of their age, where they live, their surroundings, and their school or workplace.

This is the layout of a house that appears in her novel "Earthlings."

In "Earthlings," I depicted the setting quite clearly.

The house that appears in the story is based on my grandmother's house, which I often visited during summer vacations.

I've made several trips back - it's not exactly in ruin, but it's no longer livable.

So, I had family show me around, pointing out details like where certain rooms were.

I sketched the house based on this information and had fun moving my characters around in it.

So, you sketch the characters and the setting.

And in turn, that helps you understand their thoughts and motivation, and come up with a narrative for your stories.

I think once you provide a setting for the characters, it establishes the kind of person they are.

For instance, how they would react to a sudden rainfall.

Do they run? Do they carry a folding umbrella with them? Or do they hail a taxi?

How do they react to a certain situation, what do they say, how do they speak, what about their facial expressions?

Once I provide the characters with a setting, they take on a life of their own.

It's fun how they react to the scenarios thrown at them.

It all develops in a totally unexpected way, which I find fascinating.

Listening to you, I can feel how your stories evolved.

Could you go into more detail about the actual process of writing?

How do you go about telling the stories of your characters?

I always start by creating the characters.

As for how they evolve, I often use a fish tank as an analogy.

There's a tank about this size in my mind.

I put a character that is not yet fully developed inside.

Once it starts to move on its own accord, I add other characters.

And then, once I have 3 or 4 characters inside, I often make a decision about the setting, the era, or the location for this interaction.

That's usually how it goes.

Then I stick my hands inside the tank and start creating movement.

The characters start to interact on their own.

It's like witnessing a chemical reaction.

If they get along with each other, it's not very interesting.

So, I purposely introduce a character that causes friction and triggers a strong reaction.

Scenes emerge from there.

It's like an experiment, and even if it doesn't work out the way I'd like, I dutifully and honestly note down everything that happens just like a researcher.

I write it all down.

And oftentimes, that becomes the process by which I write my stories.

Murata says taking walks provides her with inspiration.

The photos she posts on social media include shrines...

Nighttime streets...

The moon...

And flowers.

The majority are taken at night.

You take a lot of pictures while walking.

Yes, I like to take walks.

You take photos of flowers blooming above the fences outside of people's houses, using flash.

What drives you to take such photos and upload them?

The colors of flowers at night are so vivid.

To me, it's almost creepy, unnerving really.

So, I went through a stage where I was drawn to such images.

I still enjoy taking photos like that.

I guess I like to walk around aimlessly.

You take many photos of dark, gloomy places.

Perhaps you're lost in that world and are unable to escape?

I think what appeals to me most is that those images somehow remind me of outer space.

I've always been drawn to outer space.

As a child, nighttime was when I could enjoy my fantasy world.

My bed was my spaceship.

I could forget all about reality, about school and my everyday life,

and imagine myself traveling in space on my spaceship-bed.

I still have this longing for space, or perhaps a feeling of nostalgia towards it, which is probably why I sometimes take photos that remind me of space.

We join Murata on a daytime walk.

Nice weather.

Feels good.

Yes, it's nice.

Do you like hilly streets?

Well, I had never actually given it much thought.

But I once had a chance to go for a walk with a person who was very knowledgeable about the many hills and slopes of Tokyo.

They would point out a hill to me and explain its history.

Since then, I've become more conscious of the existence of hills and slopes.

If I see a signpost marking one, I'll pause to read about the hill and think about its history.

Many of the hills in Tokyo have names like Fujimizaka, or Fuji View hill, and Yureizaka, ghost hill.

Quite a few hills are rumored to be haunted.

There are many hills with mysterious names.

It's like a statement on how the hills have borne witness to the history of the area.

They immortalize the memories of those who lived there.

That's true.

Look, there's a small shrine.

It looks very old.

And that statue of Kannon, the Buddhist goddess of mercy.

It's so beautiful.

Oh, yes.

It has such a benevolent expression.

When I was a child, my father used to take us on family outings to visit various shrines.

He'd often admire the shrine gates.

He really liked shrines, and now I like them too.

Now, whenever I see a shrine or temple, I get this urge to go and take a closer look.

When you go for a walk, what kind of things attract your attention?

Well, I'm drawn towards greenery and flowers.

I also like vacant lots.

When a building is torn down, it gives me a clear view of things.

The building obstructed the view.

So, when it's gone, I get to see what existed on the other side and get very excited.

I can relate.

Does walking help to clear your thoughts, or does it help you focus on whatever it is that's been on your mind?

Well, I suppose...

I guess I find it easier to concentrate when I'm walking.

When I'm sitting down, I tend to get quite distracted.

It's like, I sometimes find myself thinking about three stories at the same time, so it gets quite confusing.

Hard to pin down.

But when I'm walking, I tend to notice the beauty of the flowers or things like that.

So, I can only concentrate on one story, which makes the images much clearer to me.

Also, I find it easier to think and create when I'm moving.

It stimulates the brain.

That's probably why I prefer to write longhand.

I need to move more than just my fingers.

Swing your arms.

Yes, I find that swinging my arms while walking makes it easier for me to think.

I get that.

Murata was born in 1979.

She grew up in Chiba Prefecture, near Tokyo.

She began writing her first novel while still in elementary school.

You started your career as a writer early, and have continued to write all these years.

What sort of significance does writing have for you?

When I'm writing a novel, words start to pour out from the work.

It's not as if I'm expressing my thoughts.

The words bubble up from the world of the novel.

So when people are talking together in real everyday life, I feel as if they're being very superficial, carrying on mundane conversations.

But I feel I'm always searching for the real truth.

I think there's a deeper truth lying beneath the common, shallow truths that people seem to take for granted.

For me, writing novels is like an experiment.

It allows me to think and consider, and eventually arrive at the real truth.

I realized at one stage that my novels take on a life of their own, that they're the ones who are really in charge.

I have no control over how they will develop or end.

But I have a feeling they're pointing me towards the hidden truths, taking me along for the ride with them.

What motivates you?

What do you think is the driving force that will take you to the next step?

I have this strong, insatiable desire to know more.

I want to understand the essence of human nature.

I want to discover more than what meets the eye and to strip things down to their barest essence.

By tearing down the barrier of consciousness, I may encounter the grotesqueness that exists within us.

I want to know what is beyond the grotesque, what lies at the core of human nature.

I don't feel an inherent need to express myself.

I just have a strong desire to discover and understand human nature.

So, I see myself continuing to write at my own leisurely pace for many more years to come.

Many of Murata's books have been translated and published overseas.

Why do readers from different countries identify so strongly with her characters?

Ginny Tapley Takemori has been translating Murata's novels into English for more than a decade.

A lot of people, especially with "Convenience Store Woman," it's about someone who doesn't really fit into society and feels out of place.

Though they are not doing anything wrong.

In their lives, everybody thinks that they should be doing something else or whatever.

I think a lot of people do identify with that, actually, in some way.

I think they really sympathize with Keiko, the protagonist in "Convenience Store Woman."

The most important thing is to capture the voice that the novel...

Anything else is like kind of details, but the voice is so important.

And, I always try to capture a voice that gives a similar experience reading in English as it is for Japanese people reading in Japanese.

I think if you capture the voice, then, that is really the most essential thing in any translation.

I was taking part in an event with Ginny.

She was talking about her translation process.

And she explained how she usually does a rough translation first, and then starts to think of how to capture the voice of the novel

and how to convey it as accurately as possible.

And the other translators at the event, all from different countries, chimed in to agree with her, saying that was how they worked, too.

I wondered then how someone would go about capturing the voice of the novel, for example, in Danish.

Since I don't know Danish to make a judgment, it would be impossible to know how they did.

I decided the best way to preserve the original voice would be to trust the translators and give them free reign to rewrite the novel as they saw fit.

That would be the only way to protect the integrity of the novel's voice.

Maybe it's because I'm not good at foreign languages, but I think it's best to leave it in the hands of a translator.

How does it feel to see your work being translated into other languages?

I would be thrilled.

Yes, it does bring me joy.

We once did an online event with about six translators.

They had each translated my work into their own language, and they each read their translation aloud to me.

I listened to how they each sounded.

And listening to the opening of the novel read out in various languages, it was amazing to hear how different it sounded from the Japanese.

It was really nice.

I can imagine.

I'm currently translating a collection of prose poetry written in Ukraine last year.

I discovered the English translation and am now in the process of translating it into Japanese.

The poems were written in the midst of the war and are testimonies of what was taking place at the moment they were written.

But as the war and the situation continue to change and evolve over time, so does the meaning of these words.

Writing of something that's been snatched away turns that into a memory.

And the distant past which no longer exists is brought back to the forefront of the mind by things which are happening right now.

So if I were to translate the English translation of the poem into Japanese word for word, the images may be conveyed differently from the original meaning.

Even the connotation, for example, of an apple, or a pen, or a door, may be different.

So as a translator, I'm trying to capture and convey the emotion behind the poem at the time it was written, so that Japanese readers can share that experience.

It makes me realize how difficult it is to convey the true, original meaning of a work.

Yet it's precious work that provides a path to a direct connection to a writer's heart.

How amazing.

- I can't begin to imagine.
- It's tough work.

In 2019, an international arts festival was held in Manchester, England.

Murata was invited to an event organized by British writer Adam Thirlwell.

Writers whose native language was not English were asked to do a reading of their work.

The event inspired Murata to write a short story called "Culture Shock."

The image came to mind immediately.

Adam approached me with the idea of this event and explained the idea behind it.

He told me that he felt as if writers were slowly losing their native language.

As a native speaker of English, he said he had the opportunity to read many works in English.

In fact, he said that he was seeing non-native speakers reject their own language and begin writing in English.

His concern over what he felt was the erasure of those native languages made him want to do something that would showcase them.

And that's why he wanted to invite a Japanese writer.

"Culture Shock" is about a boy who lives in a town where everything is standardized- from the buildings, to the food, and even the people.

Language has been reduced to a single vowel sound.

He feels shocked upon visiting a town that places value on diversity.

I'm sure your experience at the festival inspired you in many ways, providing you with new ideas.

Yes, it did.

I've had the honor of being invited to festivals in several countries.

This usually involves a book signing.

So, I practice saying "Thank you" in different languages.

In book signings in Japan, I usually just say "arigato gozaimasu," but depending on the language, "thank you" can be much shorter or longer.

I always practice to make sure I can say something.

I'm also amazed at how different gestures or facial expressions are in different cultures.

Some cultures are quite subdued while others are quite flamboyant.

So I think my experiences overseas have gradually begun to enter my subconscious, allowing me to see things in a different light.

You're currently working on a new novel.

But do you have any other activities that you'd like to pursue in the future?

I'm in the process of writing a very long novel and the end is nowhere in sight.

But I've already accepted one invitation to an international festival next year.

These overseas festivals are always exciting and inspiring, even though I often feel exhausted by the time I return to Japan.

But each time I return home with these great memories.

Every time I attend a festival, I always wish I could talk directly with my readers.

So, I'm working hard at my English, but unfortunately, I don't seem to be making much headway.

Even though I don't speak English, I've become friends with several writers in other countries.

I hope to have deeper conversations with them when we meet again.

Thank you.