My Name is Sei Shonagon by Jan Blensdorf

Author:Jan Blensdorf [BLENSDORF, JAN]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: FIC000000, FIC019000
ISBN: 9781468305692
Publisher: Abrams
Published: 2012-07-10T00:00:00+00:00

It seemed no time at all passed between the start of my classes with Mrs Matsu and the discussion of plans to send me to a highly-regarded girls’ boarding school on the other side of Tokyo. Although I was nervous about being plunged into a totally new world with so little notice to adjust to the idea, another part of me, one that longed for company and friends and new ideas rushed to embrace it. I had no family to regret leaving now, and while I was initially saddened at the thought of not seeing Mr Tomo and Mrs Matsu on such a regular basis, they promised that they would always be there for me and that we could still meet up at weekends and holidays. They had both come to seem far closer and dearer to me in the short time I had known them than my uncle who would surely be as glad as I was at my forthcoming departure from his house.

My school, when I arrived, astonished me. Firstly the student body was representative of almost every country I could think of, so that my first impression was that I’d somehow landed in the middle of New York. And then the pleasure of finding that, apart from reasonable discipline, we were actually encouraged to run around and make a noise on the sports field, to cheer each other on at swimming and gymnastics. And above all, we were allowed to make music. The other girls, at first thinking I was rather stand-offish, soon realised I was just as shy as they were, and it wasn’t long before I made friendships that lasted, in many cases, through university and into our globally scattered adult lives.

The only negative memory that I have from this time is of a recurring dream, where I am walking down a street, an ordinary Japanese street with small steam-laden food shops crowded up against overstocked clothing outlets and vegetable sellers. There is a railway overpass in the distance, and all around me traffic fumes, noise, people. At some point I turn slightly and, out of the corner of my eye, I notice a figure in the background. I walk a little faster, past a coffee shop, a supermarket selling imported foods, a gift shop where a crate of new goods is being unpacked, the china catching the light as it is lifted from the straw. I turn corners, walk for what seems like hours until it is almost dusk and then, as though I cannot help myself, I glance over my shoulder and find with a chill that the same dark shape has been there all along, turning every corner I turn, and no matter how fast I walk it is always there, the same distance behind me. I notice one other thing about this nameless figure: the left shoulder is sloping lower than the right and I feel I should know what this means but, in spite of all my efforts, it still eludes me.

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