The Thousand Autumns of Jacob De Zoet by David Mitchell

Author:David Mitchell [Mitchell, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3
Tags: Fiction.Contemporary, Fiction.Historical, Fiction
ISBN: 9780679603580
Google: -76GjNpR9VUC
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 8721944
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2010-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“IN THE DOMAIN of Hizen,” First Sister Hatsune strokes her forever-shut eyelid as the night wind blows around the shrine, “a ravine climbs northward from the San’yôdo Highway to the castle town of Bitchu. At a narrow twist in this ravine, two footsore peddlers from Osaka were overtaken by night and made camp at the foot of an abandoned shrine to Inari, the fox god, underneath a venerable walnut tree draped in moss. Now, the first peddler, a cheerful fellow, sold ribbons, combs, and suchlike. He’d charm the girls, cajole the young men, and business had been good. ‘Ribbons for kisses,’ he’d sing, ‘from all the young misses!’ The second peddler was a knife seller. He was a darker-spirited fellow who believed that the world owed him a living, and his handcart was full of unsold merchandise. On the night this tale begins, they warmed themselves at their fire and talked about what they would do on their return to Osaka. The ribbon peddler was set on marrying his childhood sweetheart, but the knife seller planned to open a pawnbroker’s shop to earn the most money with the least work.”

Sawarabi’s scissors snip snip snip through a band of cotton.

“Before they slept, the knife seller suggested that they pray to Inari-sama for his protection through the night in such a lonely spot. The ribbon peddler agreed, but as he knelt before the abandoned altar, the knife seller chopped off his head with a single stroke of his biggest unsold ax.”

Several of the sisters gasp, and Sadaie gives a little shriek. “No!”

“Phut, Sister,” says Asagao, “you told us the two nen were phriends.”

“So the poor ribbon seller thought, Sister. But now the knife seller stole his companion’s money, buried the body, and fell sound asleep. Surely nightmares, or strange groans, plagued him? Not at all. The knife seller woke up refreshed, enjoyed his victim’s food for breakfast, and had an uneventful journey back to Osaka. Setting himself up in business with the murdered man’s money, he prospered as a pawnbroker, and soon he was lining his robes and eating the daintiest delicacies with silver chopsticks. Four springs came and four autumns went. Then, one afternoon, a spruce, bushy customer in a brown cloak walked into the pawnbroker’s shop and produced a box of walnut wood. From inside, he removed a polished human skull. The pawnbroker said, ‘The box may be worth a few copper mon, but why are you showing me this old lump of bone?’ The stranger smiled at the pawnbroker with his fine white teeth and commanded the skull: ‘Sing!’ And as I live and breathe, Sisters, sing it did, and here is the song that it sang:

“With beauty shall you sleep, on pleasure shall you dine,

By the crane and the turtle and the goyô pine …”

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