#5110 [2004-08-08 08:48:03]
My own excerpt
by
klancesegall
Well, since its ok for publishing rights, I guess I should go ahead
and post the excerpt I've been handing out. Tony, Nate, I know you
two will tear it apart best as possible so I won't bother asking.
BTW, this is the very begining of the book, its just kind of meant
to set up the time and introduce the people to (basically) what the
time and place was like.
--
March 15, 1854, Edo
The American sailor walked into the restaurant, his
translator trailing quietly behind.
"Order me a drink," he told his translator, sitting down at
a table. "Whiskey."
"No whiskey," the translator said, shaking his head. "Sake.
Rice wine."
"Rice wine?!" the sailor asked incredulously. "Don't you
people eat enough of that stuff? Now you've got me drinking it, too!
Yeah, sure, order me some of that. It's good, right?"
"Very good," the translator nodded. He turned to the waiting
waitress, ordering some of the wine. Turning back to the sailor, he
said, "Bathroom," and then walked off.
The waitress came over, putting the wine and two cups down.
The sailor glanced up, saying, "Thank you." When the waitress gave
him a blank, confused look, he quickly realized his error. "Ah
sheh
sheh?"
"That is Chinese," a gruff voice came from behind the
sailor. An important looking man with a long and short sword tied to
his waist came up and sat down across from him. He wore odd pants,
almost a cross between trousers and a skirt, along with a flowing
robe covered by a simple, stiff-sleeved jacket. His hair was shaved
from his forehead to the top, and the back was tied into an odd-
looking ponytail that sat atop his head. "Say, `Arigato'," he
instructed the sailor.
"Oh." The sailor turned to the waitress. "Arigato," he said
to her.
Smiling at the sailor with the realization of what he'd been
trying to say, she bowed, saying "Do itashimashite," and walked off.
"You are American," the Japanese man said.
"And you're Nipponese," the sailor commented dryly.
"I am samurai," the Japanese replied, a slight indignation
in his voice. "You are with the black ships."
"Black ships?" the sailor asked. "Oh, yeah. I'm with the
black ships."
"May I ask you a question?" The samurai asked.
"Sure, shoot," the sailor said, pouring some sake into a cup.
"Why is it so important to America that Japan open up?" the
samurai asked. "I spoke to a Chinese man. He claimed that America is
the land of gold."
"Yeah, we got gold," the sailor said. He swallowed the sake
hard. A split second passed, and his eyes went wide and he gagged.
"You drink sake too fast," the samurai said, slight
amusement showing in his eyes. "Sip sake."
"Sip it, right
" the sailor said, nodding his head, his face
still red with discomfort.
"So, if America is a land of gold, why does America care
about Japan? What do we have that you could want?" the samurai asked.
"Well, this sake isn't all that bad," the sailor said,
sipping a little.
"You want sake?" the samurai said, bewildered.
"Sorry, that was a joke," the sailor said. "You Nipponese
need to get out more."
"We like how we are," the samurai said. "We do not want to
get out more."
"But don't you want to trade? China opened its borders and
now it trades a lot," the sailor said.
"What good is trade?" the samurai asked. "China belongs to
Barbarians now. They are ruined by Opium; they have lost everything
for trade."
The sailor stopped and thought. "To be honest, I can't give
you a straight answer. I'm just a sailor."
"I see." Samurai nodded. "Here in Japan, men like you are in
charge."
"Men like me?" the sailor asked, daring to take another sip
of his sake.
"Warriors," the samurai said. "Bushi."
"We chose who's in charge," the sailor said, pausing to take
another sip, "in America. All the people, that is," he added.
"All
the people?" the samurai asked, confused.
"Every four years, we all vote on some people who want to
run our country, and whoever gets the most votes, they run it for
four years until we vote again," the sailor said. "At least, I think
that's how it works."
"Here, in Japan, a member of the Tokugawa house runs the
country," the samurai explained.
"Like a king," the sailor nodded. "We used to be like that.
But then we had a revolution."
"A revolution?" the samurai asked, confused.
"Yeah," the sailor said. He paused, sighed, and took another
sip of the sake. It was quickly becoming apparent that this would
never be his drink of choice. "A bunch of farmers got together and
beat back the British."
"That happened here," the samurai said. "But the farmers
lost."
"Well," the sailor shrugged, not sure what to say. He took
another sip of his sake, and refilled his cup.
"Do you think we will have a revolution here?" the samurai
asked the sailor. "It has been peaceful for so long."
The sailor shrugged. "Up to you Nipponese, I guess."
The samurai nodded. "My son, he has two children. They were
born three years ago. I hope that there will be no revolution, or
else they will have to fight it."
"So you're a grandfather, huh?" the sailor asked, glancing
at him, a little surprised. "You sure look young."
"Samurai are warriors meant for war, but my family has been
happy farming in Okinawa for the last one hundred and seventy five
years. I do not think that should change for my grandchildren," the
samurai continued.
"So you guys have done nothing but fight for the last couple
hundred years?" the sailor asked, confused. "Who do you fight?"
"Rival daimyo used to fight," the samurai explained. "Long
ago. But since the Tokugawa clan came out on top, there has been
peace for over two hundred and fifty years."
"Daimyo?" the sailor asked. "I don't know what that means."
"They are the generals, the lords of the land," the samurai
explained. "We samurai would swear allegiance to them in battle."
"Well, if you haven't been fighting for so long, what have
you been doing?" the sailor wondered.
"We have been many things," the samurai said. "Mostly we
have been keeping the peace. The Shogunate rewards us for that."
"Shogunate? You mean your king?" the sailor questioned.
"The person who runs our country is called Seii tai shogun,
or just Shogun," the samurai replied. "His government is called the
Shogunate, or the Bakufu."
"Too many names," the sailor said, shaking his head. He
glanced at the swords tied to the samurai's waist. "What about
those? Why do you still have swords? And why two?"
"This is called a daisho," the samurai said, reaching down
and gripping the longer of the two swords. "It is our right, our
duty to wear these swords. No one else may wear them."
"But don't you have guns?" the sailor continued. "We stopped
using swords
I think before we even made my country."
"We have guns," the samurai said. "My sons and I are good
marksmen. But our swords and spears are still useful."
"Spears, too?" the sailor gave him an inquisitive look. "You
guys are behind on the times a little."
"We use swords as a symbol more than as a weapon," the
samurai explained. "They are our soul. Our guns are saved for the
fields, and the spears are good for cavalry."
"Ever seen a gun like this?" the sailor asked, reaching
behind him. However, he was interrupted as his interpreter returned.
The man paid his respects to the samurai, then turned to the sailor.
"We must go," he said.
The sailor sighed, getting up and paying for the sake.
"Have the rest, if you like," he offered the samurai,
pushing the unused cup towards him.
"Wait," the samurai said, getting up. "Times are about to
change, I know it." He took the short sword from his side, handing
it to the sailor. "When you go back to America, to trade with us,
keep this. It will be our first trade."
The sailor blinked in surprise at the short sword. "This for
some bad wine? Well, I don't know anything about this thing, but I
can guess it's not a fair trade." He reached behind him, pulling out
a brand new level action pistol Smith and Wesson. "Here," he said,
handing it to the samurai. "No offense to your swords and all that,
but I bet you'll find this more useful."
The samurai took it and looked it over. He bowed deeply. "My
name is Mono Kenshu, from Okinawa, in Satsuma."
The sailor gave an awkward return bow. "I'm Joe Lewis, from
Louisiana," he said, turning and walking out with his interpreter.
--
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