Chapter 138 The Light of Asia, Kitahara Iwa!
The next day, early in the morning.
Top floor duplex apartment in Minato Ward.
July sunlight peeked through the gaps in the partially drawn sheer curtains, casting warm, golden rays onto the solid wood floor.
Kitahara Iwa woke up late today, which is unusual for him.
On weekdays, his biological clock always wakes him up naturally at 6:30 every morning, and he sits down at his desk before 7:00 sharp with a cup of hand-drip black coffee in his hand to start his day's work or reading.
But today, when he opened his eyes, the hands of the old-fashioned mechanical alarm clock by his bedside had already passed 8:40.
He was more than two hours late.
The reason is not complicated.
After returning from Shibuya last night, Kitahara Iwa sat in his study, intending to read a few pages of a book before going to bed.
But in his mind, certain fragments kept playing uncontrollably... not some grand literary concept, nor any copyright issues waiting to be resolved.
It was the cool evening breeze blowing through the neon lights in that dark alley.
It was when Izumi Sakai reached out her finger and gently touched the back of her hand.
It was when she, wearing an oversized hoodie, stammered out "Iwa-kun" in a barely audible voice, that her ears turned bright red.
And, when I called her "Sachiko" back, she gripped me tightly with an almost stubborn force.
At 8:40 a.m. the next morning, Kitahara Iwa lay in bed.
The pure white kitten was perched on his chest, rhythmically patting his T-shirt with its two tiny front paws, making a soft, hypnotic purring sound.
Kitahara Iwa recalled the word "Iwa-kun" and the hand that was gradually warming in his palm, and a faint smile involuntarily appeared on his lips, a smile that he himself did not even realize.
Then Kitahara Iwa reached out and gently rubbed the cat's head.
The white cat half-closed its eyes, its kneading movements slowed down, as if it had fallen asleep again.
However, this rare moment of relaxation was violently shattered by a piercing doorbell ring.
It wasn't a polite visit with a simple "ding-dong".
Instead, it kept ringing at least five or six times.
This is a gesture of losing composure that only occurs when the sky is falling or something terrible happens.
The white cat was startled and instantly sprang up from Kitahara Iwa's chest, darting to the corner at the foot of the bed and perking up its ears.
Kitahara Iwa frowned slightly, threw off the covers, put on his slippers, casually straightened the collar of his pajamas, and quickly walked to the entrance. Through the peephole, he saw the person outside the door.
Standing at the door was Kenichi Sato.
The editor-in-chief, who usually sports a meticulously combed slicked-back hairstyle, was now covered in sweat, clutching a stack of crumpled fax papers tightly in his hand. The top button of his shirt had popped open, and his tie was askew on his shoulder. He looked as if he had just run a marathon and rushed all the way from Shincho Publishing House to here.
Seeing this, Kitahara Iwao unlocked the door and asked, "Editor-in-Chief Sato? What happened—"
However, as soon as the door was halfway opened, Kenichi Sato burst in like a cannonball.
"Teacher Kitahara!"
So excited was Kenichi Sato that he forgot to change his shoes. It wasn't until the soles of his leather shoes made a dull thud on the solid wood floor of the entryway that he suddenly realized what was happening.
After hurriedly kicking off his leather shoes, Kenichi Sato slid across the floor in his socks and rushed straight to Iwa Kitahara.
"Teacher Kitahara!"
At this moment, Kenichi Sato's voice was trembling violently. It wasn't fear, but a kind of ecstasy caused by an adrenaline surge to its peak, which reason could not suppress.
"It exploded!"
Kenichi Sato rushed straight to the coffee table in the living room and forcefully flattened the crumpled fax paper in his hand on the table.
"An urgent message from overseas...an overseas copyright agent, sent early this morning—"
Kenichi Sato tapped his finger heavily on the paper, the trembling at his fingertips clearly visible, and said, "See for yourself!"
Kitahara Iwa stepped forward, his gaze falling on the stack of fax papers.
At the top of the sheet of paper, there is an official logo made up of crossed daggers.
Next to it were the words in bold English: The Crime Writers' Association (CWA)
Kitahara Iwa's gaze quickly swept from the logo to the main text.
The fax was entirely in English. He glanced at it briefly and accurately caught the key words in capital letters at the center of the paragraph: "Shortlist".
"Fessions" (the English translation of "Confessions").
And a title that is a proper noun – “Gold Dagger”.
Kitahara Iwao pieced these words together in his mind and roughly came to a conclusion: his novel had been shortlisted for a literary award overseas.
This conclusion clearly fails to explain why the well-informed and ace editor-in-chief of Shincho Publishing House was so excited, like a gambler who had just won the lottery.
Kitahara Iwa put the fax paper back on the coffee table, then looked up at the middle-aged man in front of him who was trembling with excitement, sweat dripping down his temples.
What is the CWA Golden Dagger Award?
Kitahara Iwa asked directly, without any intention of pretending to know what he didn't.
When Sato Kenichi heard this question, he almost choked.
"Teacher Kitahara! CWA—Crime Writers' Association!"
Kenichi Sato spoke rapidly, his hands even unconsciously gesturing in the air as if words alone could not convey the weight of this matter.
"The Golden Dagger Award is their highest annual honor!"
"The judging panel for this award consists entirely of the UK's most demanding critics, and the nominated works are the finest suspense and crime novels in the entire European and American publishing industry!"
Sato swallowed hard, his eyes gleaming with an almost fanatical light.
"Most importantly, this isn't some 'translation award' specifically for foreigners; it's a competition open to all!"
"Do you know what this means? In its decades-long history, Asian writers... have never made it to the final round! Zero!"
"In the judging systems of Europe and America, Japanese mystery novels have long been stereotyped as 'only good at playing tricks and lacking social depth.' Even the works of Mr. Seicho Matsumoto have failed to break this prejudice after being translated."
At this point, Kenichi Sato pointed his finger heavily at the line of English words that read "fessions".
"But now, your 'Confessions' has done it! You haven't just achieved literary godhood in Japan; you've stormed into the heart of English literature, going head-to-head with top Western masters for the highest honors on their home turf!"
Upon hearing this, Kitahara Iwa finally realized that it was the International Dagger Award!
Established in 2006 by the Crime Writers' Association (CWA), this annual award recognizes the best crime/mystery novel that is not originally written in English and has been translated into English and published in the UK. It aims to acknowledge the contributions of the work itself and the translator and is a significant honor in the global field of translated crime literature.
Because Kitahara Iwa had only heard about the CWA International Dagger Award during his studies in his previous life, he was momentarily taken aback when he suddenly heard about the Golden Dagger Award.
As Sato Kenichi finished speaking, his chest heaved violently. He placed his hands on the coffee table, looked up at Kitahara Iwao, and said, his face flushed, "Kitahara-sensei... this is a moment that will be recorded in the history of Japanese literature!"
Kitahara Iwao looked at Sato Kenichi's flushed face, then his gaze returned to the crumpled fax paper on the table.
As someone who makes a living by writing, Kitahara Iwao knows better than anyone the weight of breaking through cultural and linguistic barriers and forcefully opening a door in the most discerning and prestigious halls of English literature.
"It seems that the overseas copyright agents and the translation team in the UK have indeed put in unimaginable effort."
Kitahara Iwa let out a soft breath, his voice filled with solemnity towards the overseas copyright agents and translation teams.
"But in any case, we've only made it to the finals yet."
Kitahara Iwa looked up at Sato, who was still panting heavily, and pointed to the sofa opposite him. "Sit down and have a glass of water, Editor-in-Chief Sato."
Just then, the little white cat slipped out of the bedroom at some point, nimbly leaped onto the sofa, rubbed its head against Kitahara Iwa's arm, and then curled up beside his legs and started purring.
"This news is indeed a huge surprise that is enough to shake the industry. But it is precisely at times like these that we need to remain clear-headed."
Kenichi Sato paused for a moment, then took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.
"...You're right. I was too out of line."
Then Kenichi Sato sat down on the single sofa opposite Kitahara Iwa. After taking a few deep breaths, this man, who was usually so shrewd and resourceful, finally regained the professionalism and dignity befitting the top editor-in-chief of Shincho Publishing.
"So, what are the follow-up arrangements?"
Kenichi Sato's tone returned to seriousness as he said, "The CWA awards ceremony is scheduled for this summer in London. If Confessions ultimately wins the Golden Dagger, the author must, as is customary, attend in person to accept the award."
At this point, Sato Kenichi looked at Kitahara Iwao, his tone slightly inquiring, and asked, "Teacher Kitahara...should I contact your overseas copyright agent immediately to arrange your trip to London for the ceremony?"
Kitahara Iwa picked up his coffee cup and hesitated for two seconds.
To be honest, he doesn't like these kinds of public appearances.
Because award ceremonies mean long dinners, insincere socializing, and reciting meaningless thank-you speeches under glaring lights.
For Kitahara Iwao, dealing with these things was even more exhausting than staying up for three consecutive nights to write "Journey Under the Midnight Sun".
But... Kitahara Iwa's gaze fell on the fax paper on the table, and he paused slightly.
The fact that the English translation of "Confessions" made it to the final selection meeting of the Golden Dagger Awards is the result of more than a year of hard work and dedication by the translator, overseas editors, and copyright agents.
And for those far away in London, suffering from a reading slump? Check out these urban fiction recommendations! The British judges, willing to set aside cultural barriers and seriously examine an Eastern story, have also shown their sincerity.
This is the most basic decency and respect among creators.
"Then I'll trouble Editor-in-Chief Sato to make the arrangements."
Kitahara Iwao spoke up, saying, "Now that the work has reached overseas, it's only right that we go there in person. Those judges who are willing to transcend cultural barriers and seriously examine a story deserve a heartfelt thank you."
"Understood! I'll head back to the editorial department to coordinate."
Upon hearing this, Editor-in-Chief Sato stood up, carefully smoothed and folded the stack of fax papers, and solemnly put them into his briefcase.
"Regarding the itinerary, I will cut all unnecessary social engagements and banquets. I will only retain the core award ceremony and one or two necessary closed-door literary exchanges."
Editor-in-Chief Sato bowed slightly to Kitahara Iwa and said, "I will never let meaningless socializing waste your energy."
Kitahara Iwa nodded.
Thank you for your trouble.
Less than half a day after Kenichi Sato left the apartment, the news exploded across the Japanese media with unstoppable speed.
The intelligence was first intercepted by a special correspondent from Kyodo News' London bureau.
While routinely reviewing Reuters' cultural newsletter, he noticed a striking Japanese-sounding Romanized character amidst the long list of top British and American authors.
"fessions".
Author: Iwao Kitahara (北原岩).
He checked the characters on the telegram three times, and even called the secretariat of the CWA organizing committee to confirm verbally, in order to rule out the possibility of errors in the communication code.
He then sent the message back to Tokyo headquarters as an urgent telegram as quickly as possible.
In the editorial hall of Kyodo News' Tokyo headquarters, the urgent sound of teletype machine conveyors was abruptly cut off.
The editor-in-chief on duty stood silently for a full half minute, clutching the telegram that had just been sent from London, containing only a few dozen words.
He then turned around and issued an unprecedented order to the entire hall: "Issue an A-level press release. Push it simultaneously across the entire media matrix with the highest priority."
When the order was given, the noisy newsroom fell silent for two seconds.
Within the organization's strict internal classification system, A-level press releases are reserved as a red channel, specifically for events such as changes in prime minister, major natural disasters, or international geopolitical conflicts.
The last time cultural news managed to squeeze into this channel was four years ago when Kenzaburo Oe was nominated for the Nobel Prize in Literature.
2:15 PM.
The Class A press release penetrated the cable and hit the terminals of major newspapers across Japan.
The entire Japanese print media industry was brought to an abrupt halt at that moment.
In the underground printing plants of Yomiuri Shimbun and Asahi Shimbun, the giant rotary printing presses that had already started running at high speed were suddenly shut off by a phone call from the editor-in-chief. Tons of evening papers that had already been printed and were originally intended to have the headlines were carelessly pushed into a corner as waste paper.
The editors of the culture section were dragged out of their cots during their lunch break, and the ringing of telephones and the editor-in-chief's roars filled the typesetting room.
Everyone is doing the same thing... retracting the article, reformatting it, and making room for this name in the headlines.
Five o'clock in the evening. When the first batch of evening newspapers, still smelling strongly of ink, were delivered to newsstands in major subway stations across Tokyo, the evening rush hour crowds stopped in their tracks.
The Tokyo Shimbun evening edition featured a bold, large headline on its front page, taking up a third of the entire page, which struck readers like a heavy blow: "Kitahara Iwao's 'Confessions' shortlisted for the CWA Golden Dagger Awards—Japanese crime literature makes its debut in the mainstream European and American competition."
Below the title is a large photo of the cover of the English translation of "Confessions," accompanied by a meticulous footnote listing the Golden Dagger Award's unshakeable dominance in the world of mystery fiction.
The evening edition of the Mainichi Shimbun adopted a highly aggressive layout—overlaying Kitahara Iwao's name and the shadow of Tower Bridge in London on the center of the front page, with the headline: "From Akutagawa Appreciation to London—Kitahara Iwao single-handedly pierces the heart of the English literary empire."
The Sankei Shimbun's headline was highly provocative: "A Dagger from the East: Kitahara Iwa, the Light of Asia, Unsheathes His Sword in Europe's Suspense Stronghold."
The Yomiuri Shimbun, which has the highest sales volume, chose the most direct method of data comparison.
They filled the front page with a long list of CWA Golden Dagger Award winners from the past thirty years.
John le Carré, PD James, Ruth Rendall… a string of giants of English literature. For a full thirty years, not a single Asian name appeared on this long list.
Then, at the very bottom of this mountain, which belongs to Europeans and Americans, they carved a line in bold, glaring red letters: "1990 Finalist: 'Fessions' – Kitahara Iwa. First time in history."
The phrase "historic first time" became the most frequently used word in Japanese society over the next 48 hours.
By 7 p.m., this hurricane of words had swept into every household across the country.
By 7 p.m., this hurricane of words had swept into every household across the country.
In its flagship program "News 7," which airs nationwide at 7 p.m., NHK's director cut out two originally scheduled international news briefs and made an exception by dedicating a full three minutes to reporting on this news.
three minutes.
For a literary news story that is not of Nobel Prize caliber, in NHK's programming schedule, which is calculated by the second and carries political weight, this is equivalent to the treatment of a small coup.
Against the backdrop of the blue background in the studio, the anchor, with a solemn expression, abandoned his usual relaxed tone when reporting cultural anecdotes. Instead, with the composure and weight of someone announcing a major historical event, he read out the conclusion that had already been repeatedly published in major print media:
"The CWA Golden Dagger Award represents the highest evaluation system for crime literature worldwide."
"Prior to this, the shortlist for this award had always been dominated by English-speaking literary giants, and no Asian work had ever been able to gain a place in this unbiased main track."
"But today, Mr. Kitahara Iwao's 'Confessions' not only broke down this arrogant barrier that had existed for decades, but it is also the first Japanese literary work in history to make it to the finals of this award..."
The reaction of readers across Japan to this news was unlike any other time before.
When "Journey Under the Midnight Sun" became a bestseller, they were shocked by Kitahara Iwa's brutal analysis of the abyss of human nature.
When "Thirst for Water" won the top prize, they were in awe of Beiyuan Yan's power to reshape the literary world order.
But this time... when they learned that Kitahara Iwa's work had been officially accepted as a final candidate by the highest review system for crime literature worldwide... the emotions surging in the public's chests were no longer just about worshipping a genius writer.
Rather, it is a deeper, more profound collective exhilaration, inextricably linked to self-esteem.
Japan in 1990.
The rampant bubble economy has begun to burst irreversibly.
The stock market crash since the beginning of the year has cast a persistent shadow, causing a sense of anxiety and unease to seep into the fabric of society as a whole.
However, on the overseas map, the vast business empire accumulated in the 1980s still maintains its invincible momentum.
Sony's Walkman still dominates the ears of young people around the world, Toyota's cars still roll down every road on five continents, and the huge checks from conglomerates even bought Rockefeller Center in the United States just a few months ago.
Japan dominates the material world.
But in the dimension of "culture"... especially when facing old European empires with centuries of literary heritage... there is always an indescribable fear lurking in the hearts of the whole society.
The Japanese themselves are well aware of this.
They can create sophisticated machines, but in the eyes of the cultural elites of Europe and America, who are full of a sense of superiority, Japanese mystery literature has long been categorized only as a novelty-seeking label: "interesting intellectual toys".
European critics acknowledge that Japanese writers' orthodox mystery plots are dazzling, but they stubbornly believe that Asian writers cannot achieve the "classical depth" that comes from being immersed in the traditions of Shakespeare or Dostoevsky in their critiques of the social fabric and their philosophical inquiries into the essence of human nature.
In other words... in the eyes of those Western judges sipping champagne, the Japanese can write "exquisite stories," but not "great crime literature."
This deep-seated arrogance and prejudice, like an invisible, cold, high wall, firmly keeps Japanese literature outside the core hall of literature.
Today's Kitahara Iwa... has not catered to that Western perspective of "exoticism," nor has it been stuffed into some kind of "cultural exchange bonus" that has a condescending nature.
Instead, he single-handedly stormed into the absolute home turf of English literature, to compete with those European and American masters who had dominated the lists for decades, for the same trophy at the same table.
For the Japanese public in 1990, this significance had long transcended literature itself.
Late at night, on Xinqiao Street.
In a crowded, noisy, and inexpensive izakaya filled with the smoke of grilled skewers.
A few low-level office workers, who had just finished overtime and loosened their ties, looked up and watched the NHK special report on the old-fashioned CRT television hanging above the bar counter.
The TV screen switched to GG.
A moment of silence fell over the bar. One of the middle-aged men, looking exhausted and with fine lines around his eyes, remained silent for a while before quietly picking up the glass of chilled draft beer in front of him.
"In my life, I've actually never really read many novels."
His voice was hoarse from the smell of cheap cigarettes, but his eyes remained fixed on the television screen: "But tonight, this drink is for Mr. Kitahara."
Her companion didn't ask a single question about why.
No one discussed the historical significance of the CWA or the Golden Dagger Awards. They simply raised their glasses in unison, clinking them together forcefully amidst the noisy background.
Because they all understand.
An Asian name, with impeccable hard power, smashed onto the highest podium that Asians have never set foot on, giving a huge vent to all Asians who are desperately trying to prove themselves in this era.
This matter alone is worthy of a drink.