Literature

«Les Billes du Pachinko» - An inner journey

3 reading minutes

written by Nicolas Jutzet · 06 November 2018 · 0 comment

Les lettres romandes du mardi - Nicolas Jutzet

Le Regard Libre and its readers discovered Elisa Shua Dusapin through her first book Winter in Sokcho. A meeting as reported in our twenty-ninth issue (July 2017). Since then, the book has become a huge success, making its author a rising star whose next move is now eagerly anticipated. Recently, Elisa Shua Dusapin was even the guest at the Élysée Palace,invited to the Elysée Palace by French President Emmanuel Macron, in the presence of his South Korean counterpart, Moon Jae-In. What a long way we've come!

Japan, Korea, a call to travel

Elisa Shua Dusapin's second novel, Pachinko Marbles, revisits the main elements of her first book. Japan takes the place of South Korea as the setting for the story. As we turn the pages, we discover the same light, fluid writing style that allows us to easily step into the shoes of the heroine, Claire, a young woman who has gone to spend her vacation with her maternal grandparents. A European visitor. We find ourselves daydreaming, feeling Japan beneath our feet, the distinctive aromas of crab cooked in every possible way, and the taste of royal milk tea.

The novel focuses in particular on the world of Pachinko,a cross between a pinball and a slot machine, the tactilo Japanese. Having fled Korea—which was still unified at the time—during the war, the protagonist’s grandparents run a gaming establishment in the capital, centered around the famous pachinko. They benefit from a tax break reserved for foreigners; they do not pay exorbitant taxes on their business, which remains frowned upon by locals but is widely practiced.

It is said that pachinko gets its name from the sound the balls make inside the machine. A thud against the glass, a hiss as they travel through the plastic tubes, the clatter of the pins, the screech of steel, and finally, the thud as they land in the basket.

The narrative weaves together several stories: the division of Korea and the forced exile that followed for some of its inhabitants; the complicated story of Claire’s parentage; and the budding story of the daughter of a French teacher, Mrs. Ogawa—the surly Mieko. Hired to help her improve her French, Claire spends long days trying to understand the enigmatic young Japanese girl. Ahead of other children her age, she never ceases to surprise. Perhaps it’s the absence of her father, who is missing. A successful engineer, notably of the world-famous Shinkansen—that high-speed train with its sharp nose that is the pride of the nation. Claire’s grandparents don’t really fit in in their new country, but they work hard—relentlessly. They had to flee Korea, but seem never to have completely left it behind and never to have truly arrived in Japan.

They do not mix with the community of Koreans in Japan—the Zainichi—who were deported during the Japanese occupation or exiled, like them, to escape the Korean War.

After these long years in exile and an exhausting working life, Claire wants to take her grandparents back to see their homeland, which is now divided in two. They agree, without showing much eagerness. An unshakable calm. This is the common thread running through the story. She’ll have to fight—against herself and against those around her.

I love fog. It keeps me from seeing far ahead. It obscures the horizon. It makes it feel like we have time, like we’re allowed not to see anything—not to see what’s coming.