It was thirty years ago this month (or was it last month?) that I finished writing the draft manuscript of my first book, Ryoma: Life of a Renaissance Samurai, in my apartment on the Sumida River in Tokyo’s Asakusa district, just a few short blocks from where the statue of Katsu Kaishu stands today. At that time I was not even sure that the book would ever see the light of print (it would not be published for another 7 and a half years), much less be placed in the library at the Teradaya Inn in Fushimi, Kyoto.

[I took these photos at the Teradaya library in October 2016.]

Today I wrote about Shinsengumi Vice-Commander Hijikata Toshizo’s anticipation of a war in Kyoto between Aizu and Satsuma based on the latter’s refusal to support the Bakufu in the imminent war against Choshu in 1866. Katsu Kaishu was tasked with mediating between the two to resolve the problem peacefully.

Okay so I wrote about that. But as is sometimes the case after spending the day (or week or month or year or even decade) writing about this history, which was played out by men of a completely different time, place and culture than my own, I am struck by a sense of amazement and even awe that I am actually able to write about it — especially given that many of my main sources are in antiquated Japanese written by the men who made this history.

[Main sources today include three from Katsu Kaishu, a book of letters written by Hijikata Toshizo and Okita Soj (annotated by Kikuchi Akira), and my own Samurai Revolution.]

Writing is a lonely occupation. The writer (at least this one) never knows if his words will matter or move. For instance, today I finished the opening section of the chapter for my next Shinsengumi book immediately preceding the chapter on the infamous attack on the Ikedaya through which the Shinsengumi gained historic immortality. It is a comparative analysis of the thinking of Katsu Kaishu and Shinsengumi Commander Kondo Isami—though I have never encountered such an analysis in the literature of the era. When I finished writing this section, I was quite satisfied.

Again, thank you all for your continuous support and encouragement.

Think big! Create! Persevere!—and feel with the mind.

[The photo of Katsu Kaishu (left) appears in Samurai Revolution courtesy of Yokohama Archives of History.  (Katsu Kaishu is the “shogun’s last samurai” of Samurai Revolution.) The photo of Kondo Isami appears in Shinsengumi: The Shogun’s Last Samurai Corps, courtesy of the descendants of Sato Hikogoro and Hino-shi-Furusato Hakubutsukan.]

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