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The Romance of the Milky Way by Lafcadio Hearn

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Amanogawa
Kawa 'to sayak['e]shi:
Hikoboshi no
Haya kogu fun['e] no
Nami no sawagi ka?

[_On the River of Heaven a sound of plashing can be distinctly
heard: is it the sound of the rippling made by Hikoboshi
quickly rowing his boat?_]

Kono y[=u]b['e],
Furikuru am['e] wa,
Hikoboshi no
Haya kogu fun['e] no
Ka[:i] no chiri ka mo.

[_Perhaps this evening shower is but the spray (flung down)
from the oar of Hikoboshi, rowing his boat in haste._]

Waga tama-doko wo
Asu yori wa
Uchi hara[:i],
Kimi to in['e]zut['e]
Hitori ka mo nen!

[_From to-morrow, alas! after having put my jewel-bed in
order, no longer reposing with my lord, I must sleep alone!_]

Kaz['e] fukit['e],
Kawa-nami tachinu;--
Hiki-fun['e] ni
Watari mo kimas['e]
Yo no fuk['e]nu ma ni.

[_The wind having risen, the waves of the river have become
high;--this night cross over in a towboat,[23] I pray thee,
before the hour be late!_]

[Footnote 23: Lit. "pull-boat" (_hiki-fun['e]_),--a barge or boat
pulled by a rope.]

Amanogawa
Nami wa tatsutomo,
Waga fun['e] wa
Iza kogi iden
Yo no fuk['e]nu ma ni.

[_Even though the waves of the River of_ _Heaven run high, I
must row over quickly, before it becomes late in the night._]

Inishi['e] ni
Orit['e]shi hata wo;
Kono y[=u]b['e]
Koromo ni nu[:i]t['e]--
Kimi matsu ar['e] wo!

[_Long ago I finished weaving the material; and, this evening,
having finished sewing the garment for him--(why must) I still
wait for my lord?_]

Amanogawa
S['e] wo hayami ka mo?
Nubatama no
Yo wa fuk['e] ni tsutsu,
Awanu Hikoboshi!

[_Is it that the current of the River of_ _Heaven (has become too)
rapid? The jet-black night[24] advances--and Hikoboshi has not come!_]

[Footnote 24: _Nubatama no yo_ might better be rendered by some such
phrase as "the berry-black night,"--but the intended effect would be
thus lost in translation. _Nubatama-no_ (a "pillow-word") is written
with characters signifying "like the black fruits of _Karasu-[=O]gi_;"
and the ancient phrase "_nubatama no yo_" therefore may be said
to have the same meaning as our expressions "jet-black night," or
"pitch-dark night."]

Watashi-mori,
Fun['e] haya watas['e];--
Hito-tos['e] ni
Futatabi kay[=o]
Kimi naranaku ni!

[_Oh, ferryman, make speed across the stream!--my lord is not
one who can come and go twice in a year!_]

Aki kaz['e] no
Fukinishi hi yori,
Amanogawa
Kawas['e] ni d['e]dachi;--
Matsu to tsug['e] koso!

[_On the very day that the autumn-wind began to blow, I set
out for the shallows of the River of Heaven;--I pray you, tell
my lord that I am waiting here still!_]

Tanabata no
Funanori surashi,--
Maso-kagami,
Kiyoki tsuki-yo ni
Kumo tachi-wataru.

[_Methinks Tanabata must be coming in her boat; for a cloud is
even now passing across the clear face of the moon._[25]]

[Footnote 25: Composed by the famous poet [=O]tomo no Sukun['e]
Yakamochi, while gazing at the Milky Way, on the seventh night of
the seventh month of the tenth year of Tampy[=o] (A.D. 738). The
pillow-word in the third line (_maso-kagami_) is untranslatable.]

--And yet it has been gravely asserted that the old Japanese poets
could find no beauty in starry skies!...

Perhaps the legend of Tanabata, as it was understood by those old
poets, can make but a faint appeal to Western minds. Nevertheless,
in the silence of transparent nights, before the rising of the moon,
the charm of the ancient tale sometimes descends upon me, out of the
scintillant sky,--to make me forget the monstrous facts of science,
and the stupendous horror of Space. Then I no longer behold the Milky
Way as that awful Ring of the Cosmos, whose hundred million suns are
powerless to lighten the Abyss, but as the very Amanogawa itself,--the
River Celestial. I see the thrill of its shining stream, and the mists
that hover along its verge, and the water-grasses that bend in the
winds of autumn. White Orihim['e] I see at her starry loom, and the Ox
that grazes on the farther shore;--and I know that the falling dew is
the spray from the Herdsman's oar. And the heaven seems very near and
warm and human; and the silence about me is filled with the dream of
a love unchanging, immortal,--forever yearning and forever young, and
forever left unsatisfied by the paternal wisdom of the gods.




GOBLIN POETRY


Recently, while groping about an old book shop, I found a collection
of Goblin Poetry in three volumes, containing many pictures of
goblins. The title of the collection is _Ky[=o]ka Hyaku-Monogatari_,
or "The Mad Poetry of the _Hyaku-Monogatari_." The _Hyaku-Monogatari_,
or "Hundred Tales," is a famous book of ghost stories. On the subject
of each of the stories, poems were composed at different times
by various persons,--poems of the sort called _Ky[=o]ka_, or Mad
Poetry,--and these were collected and edited to form the three volumes
of which I became the fortunate possessor. The collecting was done by
a certain Takumi Jingor[=o], who wrote under the literary pseudonym
"Temm['e]r R['e][=o]jin" (Ancient of the Temm['e]r Era). Takumi died
in the first year of Bunky[=u] (1861), at the good age of eighty;
and his collection seems to have been published in the sixth year
of Ka['e][:i] (1853). The pictures were made by an artist called
Masazumi, who worked under the pseudonym "Ry[=o]sai Kanjin."

From a prefatory note it appears that Takumi Jingor[=o] published
his collection with the hope of reviving interest in a once popular
kind of poetry which had fallen into neglect before the middle of
the century. The word _ky[=o]ka_ is written with a Chinese character
signifying "insane" or "crazy;" and it means a particular and
extraordinary variety of comic poetry. The form is that of the classic
_tanka_ of thirty-one syllables (arranged 57577);--but the subjects
are always the extreme reverse of classical; and the artistic effects
depend upon methods of verbal jugglery which cannot be explained
without the help of numerous examples. The collection published by
Takumi includes a good deal of matter in which a Western reader can
discover no merit; but the best of it has a distinctly grotesque
quality that reminds one of Hood's weird cleverness in playing with
grim subjects. This quality, and the peculiar Japanese method of
mingling the playful with the terrific, can be suggested and explained
only by reproducing in Romaji the texts of various _ky[=o]ka_, with
translations and notes.

The selection which I have made should prove interesting, not merely
because it will introduce the reader to a class of Japanese poetry
about which little or nothing has yet been written in English, but
much more because it will afford some glimpses of a supernatural world
which still remains for the most part unexplored. Without knowledge
of Far Eastern superstitions and folk-tales, no real understanding of
Japanese fiction or drama or poetry will ever become possible.

* * * * *

There are many hundreds of poems in the three volumes of the _Ky[=o]ka
Hyaku-Monogatari_; but the number of the ghosts and goblins falls
short of the one hundred suggested by the title. There are just
ninety-five. I could not expect to interest my readers in the whole
of this goblinry, and my selection includes less than one seventh
of the subjects. The Faceless Babe, The Long-Tongued Maiden,
The Three-Eyed Monk, The Pillow-Mover, The Thousand Heads, The
Acolyte-with-the-Lantern, The Stone-that-Cries-in-the-Night,
The Goblin-Heron, The Goblin-Wind, The Dragon-Lights, and The
Mountain-Nurse, did not much impress me. I omitted _ky[=o]ka_ dealing
with fancies too gruesome for Western nerves,--such as that of the
_Obum['e]dori_,--also those treating of merely local tradition.
The subjects chosen represent national rather than provincial
folklore,--old beliefs (mostly of Chinese origin) once prevalent
throughout the country, and often referred to in its popular
literature.


I. KITSUN['E]-BI

The Will-o'-the-wisp is called _kitsun['e]-bi_ ("fox-fire"), because
the goblin-fox was formerly supposed to create it. In old Japanese
pictures it is represented as a tongue of pale red flame, hovering
in darkness, and shedding no radiance upon the surfaces over which it
glides.

To understand some of the following _ky[=o]ka_ on the subject, the
reader should know that certain superstitions about the magical power
of the fox have given rise to several queer folk-sayings,--one of
which relates to marrying a stranger. Formerly a good citizen was
expected to marry within his own community, not outside of it; and the
man who dared to ignore traditional custom in this regard would have
found it difficult to appease the communal indignation. Even to-day
the villager who, after a long absence from his birthplace, returns
with a strange bride, is likely to hear unpleasant things said,--such
as: "_Wakaranai-mono we hippat['e]-kita!... Doko no uma no hon['e] da
ka?_" ("Goodness knows what kind of a thing he has dragged here after
him! Where did he pick up that old horse-bone?") The expression _uma
no hon['e]_, "old horse-bone," requires explanation.

A goblin-fox has the power to assume many shapes; but, for the purpose
of deceiving _men_, he usually takes the form of a pretty woman. When
he wants to create a charming phantom of this kind, he picks up an old
horse-bone or cow-bone, and holds it in his mouth. Presently the bone
becomes luminous; and the figure of a woman defines about it,--the
figure of a courtesan or singing-girl.... So the village query about
the man who marries a strange wife, "What old horse-bone has he picked
up?" signifies really, "What wanton has bewitched him?" It further
implies the suspicion that the stranger may be of outcast blood: a
certain class of women of pleasure having been chiefly recruited, from
ancient time, among the daughters of ['E]ta and other pariah-people.

Hi tomoshit['e]
Kitsun['e] no kwas['e]shi,
Asobim['e][26] wa--
Izuka no uma no
Hon['e] ni ya aruran!

[Footnote 26: _Asobim['e]_, a courtesan: lit., "sporting-woman." The
['E]ta and other pariah classes furnished a large proportion of these
women. The whole meaning of the poem is as follows: "See that young
wanton with her lantern! It is a pretty sight--but so is the sight of
a fox, when the creature kindles his goblin-fire and assumes the shape
of a girl. And just as your fox-woman will prove to be no more than an
old horse-bone, so that young courtesan, whose beauty deludes men to
folly, may be nothing better than an ['E]ta."]

[_--Ah the wanton (lighting her lantern)!--so a fox-fire is
kindled in the time of fox-transformation!... Perhaps she is
really nothing more than an old horse-bone from somewhere or
other...._]

Kitsun['e]-bi no
Moyuru ni tsuk['e]t['e],
Waga tama no
Kiyuru y[=o] nari
Kokoro-hoso-michi!

[_Because of that Fox-fire burning there, the very soul of me
is like to be extinguished in this narrow path (or, in this
heart-depressing solitude)._[27]]

[Footnote 27: The supposed utterance of a belated traveler frightened
by a will-o'-the-wisp. The last line allows of two readings.
_Kokoro-hosoi_ means "timid;" and _hosoi michi_ (_hoso-michi_) means a
"narrow path," and, by implication, a "lonesome path."]


II. RIKOMBY[=O]

The term _Rikomby[=o]_ is composed with the word _rikon_, signifying
a "shade," "ghost," or "spectre," and the word _by[=o]_, signifying
"sickness," "disease." An almost literal rendering would be
"ghost-sickness." In Japanese-English dictionaries you will find the
meaning of _Rikomby[=o]_ given as "hypochondria;" and doctors really
use the term in this modern sense. But the ancient meaning was _a
disorder of the mind which produced a Double_; and there is a whole
strange literature about this weird disease. It used to be supposed,
both in China and Japan, that under the influence of intense grief
or longing, caused by love, the spirit of the suffering person would
create a Double. Thus the victim of _Rikomby[=o]_ would appear to have
two bodies, exactly alike; and one of these bodies would go to join
the absent beloved, while the other remained at home. (In my "Exotics
and Retrospectives," under the title "A Question in the Zen Texts,"
the reader will find a typical Chinese story on the subject,--the
story of the girl Ts'ing.) Some form of the primitive belief in
doubles and wraiths probably exists in every part of the world; but
this Far Eastern variety is of peculiar interest because the double
is supposed to be caused by love, and the subjects of the affliction
to belong to the gentler sex.... The term _Rikomby[=o]_ seems to be
applied to the apparition as well as to the mental disorder supposed
to produce the apparition: it signifies "doppelg[:a]nger" as well as
"ghost-disease."

* * * * *

--With these necessary explanations, the quality of the following
_ky[=o]ka_ can be understood. A picture which appears in the _Ky[=o]ka
Hyaku-Monogatari_ shows a maid-servant anxious to offer a cup of tea
to her mistress,--a victim of the "ghost-sickness." The servant cannot
distinguish between the original and the apparitional shapes before
her; and the difficulties of the situation are suggested in the first
of the _ky[=o]ka_ which I have translated:--

Ko-ya, sor['e] to?
Ayam['e] mo wakanu
Rikomby[=o]:
Izur['e] we tsuma to
Hiku zo wazura[:u]!

[_Which one is this?--which one is that? Between the two
shapes of the Rikomby[=o] it is not possible to distinguish.
To find out which is the real wife--that will be an affliction
of spirit indeed!_]

Futatsu naki
Inochi nagara mo
Kak['e]ga[:e] no
Karada no miyuru--
Kage no wazurai!

[_Two lives there certainly are not;--nevertheless an extra
body is visible, by reason of the Shadow-Sickness._]

Naga-tabi no
Oto we shita[:i]t['e]
Mi futatsu ni
Naru wa onna no
S[=a]ru rikomby[=o].

[_Yearning after her far-journeying husband, the woman has
thus become two bodies, by reason of her ghostly sickness._]

Miru kag['e] mo
Naki wazurai no
Rikomby[=o],--
Omoi no hoka ni
Futatsu miru kag['e]!

[_Though (it was said that), because of her ghostly sickness,
there was not even a shadow of her left to be seen,--yet,
contrary to expectation, there are two shadows of her to be
seen!_[28]]

[Footnote 28: The Japanese say of a person greatly emaciated by
sickness, _miru-kag['e] mo naki_: "Even a visible shadow of him is
not!"--Another rendering is made possible by the fact that the same
expression is used in the sense of "unfit to be seen,"--"though the
face of the person afflicted with this ghostly sickness is unfit to be
seen, yet by reason of her secret longing [for another man] there are
now two of her faces to be seen." The phrase _omoi no hoka_, in the
fourth line, means "contrary to expectation;" but it is ingeniously
made to suggest also the idea of secret longing.]

Rikomby[=o]
Hito ni kakushit['e]
Oku-zashiki,
Omot['e] y d[:e]asanu
Kag['e] no wazurai.

[_Afflicted with the Rikomby[=o], she hides away from people
in the back room, and never approaches the front of the
house,--because of her Shadow-disease._[29]]

[Footnote 29: There is a curious play on words in the fourth line. The
word _omot['e]_, meaning "the front," might, in reading, be sounded
as _omott['e]_, "thinking." The verses therefore might also be thus
translated:--"She keeps her real thoughts hidden in the back part
of the house, and never allows them to be seen in the front part of
the house,--because she is suffering from the 'Shadow-Sickness' [of
love]."]

Mi wa koko ni;
Tama wa otoko ni
So[:i]n['e] suru;--
Kokoro mo shiraga
Haha ga kaih[=o].

[_Here her body lies; but her soul is far away, asleep in the
arms of a man;--and the white-haired mother, little knowing
her daughter's heart, is nursing (only the body)._[30]]

[Footnote 30: There is a double meaning, suggested rather than
expressed, in the fourth line. The word _shiraga_, "white-hair,"
suggests _shirazu_, "not knowing."]

Tamakushig['e]
Futatsu no sugata
Mis['e]nuru wa,
Awas['e]-kagami no
Kag['e] no wazurai.

[_If, when seated before her toilet-stand, she sees two faces
reflected in her mirror,--that might be caused by the
mirror doubling itself under the influence of the
Shadow-Sickness._[31]]

[Footnote 31: There is in this poem a multiplicity of suggestion
impossible to render in translation. While making her toilet, the
Japanese woman uses two mirrors (_awas['e]-kagami_)--one of which, a
hand-mirror, serves to show her the appearance of the back part of
her coiffure, by reflecting it into the larger stationary mirror. But
in this case of Rikomby[=o], the woman sees more than her face and
the back of her head in the larger mirror: she sees her own double.
The verses indicate that one of the mirrors may have caught the
Shadow-Sickness, and doubled itself. And there is a further suggestion
of the ghostly sympathy said to exist between a mirror and the soul of
its possessor.]


III. [=O]-GAMA

In the old Chinese and Japanese literature the toad is credited with
supernatural capacities,--such as the power to call down clouds, the
power to make rain, the power to exhale from its mouth a magical
mist which creates the most beautiful illusions. Some toads are good
spirits,--friends of holy men; and in Japanese art a famous Rishi
called "Gama-Sennin" (Toad Rishi) is usually represented with a white
toad resting upon his shoulder, or squatting beside him. Some toads
are evil goblins, and create phantasms for the purpose of luring men
to destruction. A typical story about a creature of this class will be
found in my "Kott[=o]," entitled "The Story of Chug[=o]r[=o]."

M['e] wa kagami,
Kuchi wa tarai no
Hodo ni aku:
Gama mo k['e]sh[=o] no
Mono to kos[=o] shir['e].

[_The eye of it, widely open, like a (round) mirror; the mouth
of it opening like a wash-basin--by these things you may know
that the Toad is a goblin-thing (or, that the Toad is a toilet
article)._[32]]

[Footnote 32: There are two Japanese words, _kesh[=o]_, which in
_kana_ are written alike and pronounced alike, though represented
by very different Chinese characters. As written in _kana_, the
term _kesh[=o]-no-mono_ may signify either "toilet articles" or "a
monstrous being," "a goblin."]


IV. SHINKIR[=O]

The term _Shinkir[=o]_ is used in the meaning of "mirage," and also as
another name for H[=o]rai, the Elf-land of Far Eastern fable. Various
beings in Japanese myth are credited with power to delude mortals
by creating a mirage of H[=o]rai. In old pictures one may see a toad
represented in the act of exhaling from its mouth a vapor that shapes
the apparition of H[=o]rai.

But the creature especially wont to produce this illusion is the
_Hamaguri_,--a Japanese mollusk much resembling a clam. Opening its
shell, it sends into the air a purplish misty breath; and that mist
takes form and defines, in tints of mother-of-pearl, the luminous
vision of H[=o]rai and the palace of the Dragon-King.

Hamaguri no
Kuchi aku toki ya,
Shinkir[=o]!
Yo ni shirar['e] ken
Tatsu-no-miya-him['e]!

[_When the hamaguri opens its mouth--lo! Shinkir[=o]
appears!... Then all can clearly see the Maiden-Princess of
the Dragon-Palace._]

Shinkir[=o]--
Tatsu no miyako no
Hinagata[33] wo
Shio-hi no oki ni
Misuru hamaguri!

[_Lo! in the offing at ebb-tide, the hamaguri makes visible
the miniature image of Shinkir[=o]--the Dragon-Capital!_]

[Footnote 33: _Hinagata_ means especially "a model," "a miniature
copy," "a drawn plan," etc.]


V. ROKURO-KUBI

The etymological meaning of _Rokuro-Kubi_ can scarcely be indicated
by any English rendering. The term _rokuro_ is indifferently used to
designate many revolving objects--objects as dissimilar as a pulley,
a capstan, a windlass, a turning lathe, and a potter's wheel. Such
renderings of Rokuro-Kubi as "Whirling-Neck" and "Rotating-Neck" are
unsatisfactory;--for the idea which the term suggests to Japanese
fancy is that of a neck which revolves, _and lengthens or retracts
according to the direction of the revolution_.... As for the ghostly
meaning of the expression, a Rokuro-Kubi is either (1) a person whose
neck lengthens prodigiously during sleep, so that the head can wander
about in all directions, seeking what it may devour, or (2) a person
able to detach his or her head completely from the body, and to rejoin
it to the neck afterwards. (About this last mentioned variety of
_Rokuro-Kubi_ there is a curious story in my "Kwaidan," translated
from the Japanese.) In Chinese mythology the being whose neck is so
constructed as to allow of the head being completely detached belongs
to a special class; but in Japanese folk-tale this distinction is not
always maintained. One of the bad habits attributed to the Rokuro-Kubi
is that of drinking the oil in night-lamps. In Japanese pictures the
Rokuro-Kubi is usually depicted as a woman; and old books tell us
that a woman might become a Rokuro-Kubi without knowing it,--much as
a somnambulist walks about while asleep, without being aware of the
fact.... The following verses about the Rokuro-Kubi have been selected
from a group of twenty in the _Ky[=o]ka Hyaku-Monogatari_:--

Nemidar['e] no
Nagaki kami woba
Furi-wak['e]t['e],
Chi hiro ni nobasu
Rokuro-Kubi kana!

[_Oh!... Shaking loose her long hair disheveled by sleep, the
Rokuro-Kubi stretches her neck to the length of a thousand
fathoms!_]

"Atama naki
Bak['e]mono nari"--to
Rokuro-Kubi,
Mit['e] odorokan
Onoga karada we.

[_Will not the Rokuro-Kubi, viewing with_ _astonishment her
own body (left behind) cry out, "Oh, what a headless goblin
have you become!_"]

Tsuka-no-ma ni
Hari we tsutawaru,
Rokuro-Kubi
K['e]ta-k['e]ta warau--
Kao no kowasa yo!

[_Swiftly gliding along the roof-beam (and among the props
of the roof), the Rokuro-Kubi laughs with the sound of
"k['e]ta-k['e]ta"--oh! the fearfulness of her face!_[34]]

[Footnote 34: It is not possible to render all the double meanings in
this composition. _Tsuka-no-ma_ signifies "in a moment" or "quickly";
but it may also mean "in the space [_ma_] between the roof-props"
[_tsuka_]. "_K['e]ta_" means a cross-beam, but _k['e]ta-k['e]ta warau_
means to chuckle or laugh in a mocking way. Ghosts are said to laugh
with the sound of k['e]ta-k['e]ta.]

Roku shaku no
By[=o]bu ni nobiru
Rokuro-Kubi
Mit['e] wa, go shaku no
Mi wo chijimi-k['e]ri!

[_Beholding the Rokuro-Kubi rise up above the six-foot screen,
any five-foot person would have become shortened by fear (or,
"the stature of any person five feet high would have been
diminished")._[35]]

[Footnote 35: The ordinary height of a full screen is six Japanese
feet.]


VI. YUKI-ONNA

The Snow-Woman, or Snow-Spectre, assumes various forms; but in most
of the old folk-tales she appears as a beautiful phantom, whose
embrace is death. (A very curious story about her can be found in my
"Kwaidan.")

Yuki-Onna--
Yos[=o] kushi mo
Atsu k[=o]ri;
Sasu-k[=o]gai ya
K[=o]ri naruran.

[_As for the Snow-Woman,--even her best comb, if I mistake
not, is made of thick ice; and her hair-pin[36], too, is
probably made of ice._]


[Footnote 36: _K[=o]gai_ is the name now given to a quadrangular bar
of tortoise-shell passed under the coiffure, which leaves only the
ends of the bar exposed. The true hair-pin is called _kanzashi_.]

Honrai wa
K[=u] naru mono ka,
Yuki-Onna?
Yoku-yoku mireba
Ichi-butsu mo nashi!

[_Was she, then, a delusion from the very first, that
Snow-Woman,--a thing that vanishes into empty space? When I
look carefully all about me, not one trace of her is to be
seen!_]

Yo-ak['e]r['e]ba
Ki['e]t['e] yuku ['e] wa
Shirayuki[37] no
Onna to mishi mo
Yanagi nari-keri!

[_Having vanished at daybreak (that Snow-Woman), none
could say whither she had gone. But what had seemed to be a
snow-white woman became indeed a willow-tree!_]

[Footnote 37: The term _shirayuki_, as here used, offers an example
of what Japanese poets call _Keny[=o]gen_, or "double-purpose words."
Joined to the words immediately following, it makes the phrase
"white-snow woman" (_shirayuki no onna_);--united with the words
immediately preceding, it suggests the reading, "whither-gone
not-knowing" (_yuku ['e] wa shira[zu]_).]

Yuki-Onna
Mit['e] wa yasathiku,
Matsu wo ori
Nama-dak['e] hishigu
Chikara ari-keri!

[_Though the Snow-Woman appears to sight slender and gentle,
yet, to snap the pine-trees asunder and to crush the live
bamboos, she must have had strength._]

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President Obama teams up with one of Marvel's greatest heroes, reports Alison Flood
Articles published by guardian.co.uk Books

Murder One closing so did we commit this crime?

Barack Obama is teaming up with Spider-Man in a new comic from Marvel, which will see the future president exchanging a fist-bump with Peter Parker's alter ego.

The five-page story takes place in Washington DC on inauguration day, when one of Spidey's oldest enemies, the Chameleon, attempts to stop Obama's swearing-in ceremony. Fortunately, Peter Parker is covering the event as a photographer, and jumps in to save the day.

"Ya hear that, Chameleon? The president-elect here just appointed me ... secretary of shuttin' you up," Spider-Man says as he thwacks the Chameleon in the face. "I hope this doesn't ruin the inauguration for you," he tells Obama, as the Chameleon is led away by security officials. "Honestly, I'm more upset by the Chameleon's shockingly deficient understanding of the electoral process," Obama replies.

Spidey then cedes the limelight to Obama. "This is your day, after all, and I know it wouldn't look good to be seen palling around with me," he says, in a nod to Sarah Palin's comment that the then presidential candidate had been "palling around with terrorists".

The story, written by Zeb Wells and illustrated by Todd Nauck and Frank D'Armata, will appear as a bonus feature in Amazing Spider-Man 583, which goes on sale on 14 January.

"When we heard that president-elect Obama is a collector of Spider-Man comics, we knew that these two historic figures had to meet in our comics' Marvel Universe," said Marvel's editor-in-chief Joe Quesada. "A Spider-Man fan moving into the Oval Office is an event that must be commemorated in the pages of Amazing Spider-Man."

In October, graphic novel biographies of Obama and his then rival John McCain were published by IDW. April will see Michelle Obama appearing in the Female Force comic book series.

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Poetry Workshop creature features

For many years my local corner shop displayed a large sign in its window telling local residents to "use us or lose us!" It always looked a rather toothless threat to me. After all, if I didn't use them, what difference would it make to me if they weren't there? And surely a corner shop, one that had been there for years, would have enough customers to survive without recourse to such apocalyptic warning? But it didn't and was soon converted into flats.

This community shop was destroyed not so much by the pressures of the supermarkets or people's commuting patterns, but simply by customer apathy. It's something to think about as crime writers and readers across the world mourn the imminent passing of Maxim Jakubowski's celebrated Charing Cross Road bookshop in London, Murder One.

Apathy is a strange word to connect to a bookstore that thrives on passion. It's noticeable when you walk through the door, when you speak to the friendly, knowledgeable staff, when you look at the shelves and see the vast range of titles on offer. This isn't your regular kind of bookstore: the first time I visited spent a whole lunch break looking up and down, from floor to ceiling from table to table; it was an hour that changed my perception of both crime writing and of bookselling.

Murder One was – and for a few weeks will remain – a shop that took crime seriously. Not in the sense that it intellectualised it, or made unsubstantiated claims for its importance, but in the way that it treated crime writing with the respect it was due. With a genre that has so many off-shoots, branches and sub-genres, it took a shop of Murder One's calibre to show just how diverse, interesting and mentally stimulating crime could be – far more than the guilty pleasure I had, until then, considered it.

Thanks to judicious recommendations, enticing table displays and hours of foraging among the stacks, I discovered writers that I would never have picked up, let alone read. You could always get the latest blockbuster, but delve a little deeper and you'd find books that were not stocked anywhere else, novels that, like the perfect crime, were hidden from public view. The Martin Beck novels by Sjöwall & Wahlöö – probably my favourite sequence of novels in any genre – were introduced to me via Murder One, as were Kem Nunn, Sue Grafton, and Henning Mankell. It's also the staff of Murder One who piqued my interest in the inimitable Fred Vargas, and I can't thank them enough for the introduction.

Inclusive and without snobbery, Murder One amply demonstrated that the best bookshops are places not just of commerce, but of community; places that make feel you belong. It's the kind of store that bibliophiles dream about: well-stocked, well-staffed and shabby enough to lose days browsing within. It's just unfortunate that such shops don't have enough paying customers to keep them afloat, or that these customers visit all too infrequently – something of which I'm certainly guilty.

These kinds of shops are facing a long, bloody battle – and one which, without significant reinforcements, they are likely to lose. As we hear of the travesty of another brilliant independent going down, we'll mourn the loss, wring our hands and damn Amazon and the supermarkets and Waterstone's. Yet perhaps the most important detail we'll probably keep under wraps: the last time we actually spent any money there.

Murder One closing its doors for the final time is undoubtedly a .38 shell for independent bookshops, but whether it's body blow or a warning shot all depends upon us, the consumers. No one, no matter how iconic or established, can exist on fond memories alone: just ask Woolworths. Use these shops now, because it doesn't take a master sleuth to deduce what will happen if we don't.

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