Any foreigner who’s been in Japan for a while can tell you that there’s a lot of ups and downs to living life out here. As a country, Japan seems to prize itself on it’s homogeny, and as such, one sees everything from the Japanese government’s 1986 proud announcement of it’s ‘mono-ethnicity’ (despite having a multitude of indigenous ethnic minorities, populations of people who migrated from southeast and far east Asia over the centuries, and a continuingly growing population of people with mixed nationalities) to the fact that when asked for their personal opinion on a matter, locals will often respond, “Well, we Japanese think…”. As a foreigner out here this translates into living an existence where both all of your strengths and all of your weaknesses stem from the fact that you are blistering different, and few books I’ve read have so eloquently and honestly portrayed that fact as Wayne Aponte’s ‘The Year of No Money in Tokyo”.
In Aponte’s book, he chronicles his transition from life as an impoverished youth in New York to the high life as a successful businessman in Tokyo to the lows of being completely penniless during the middle of a recession, and the consequential journey he takes to find his way back to financial (and psychological) well-being. The book takes place over the course of a year it takes him to do so, and as he writes one can not just get a feeling for the myriad of status levels falling under the umbrella term of ‘foreigner’, but also the varying mentalities that one shifts through as they go from one to the other.
Aponte’s journey reshapes him from everything to a giver and socialite to a parasite and womanizer, and in telling his story he pulls no punches in terms of describing himself or the things that he does. His brutal honesty is both breathtaking, refreshing, and shocking all at the same time, and even if some might not like him at the beginning of the book, it’s hard not to respect him by the end. His uncompromising volition towards his goal of finding his way against his odds, (and personality faults) is admirable, as is the fact he does not play himself up to be more than he is. In a city that prides itself on it’s gloss, and shimmer and cares more about it’s outward image than it’s skyrocketing suicide rates, Aponte writes as a man who has pushed past the b*llshit and displays Tokyo for all that it is- lonely and neurotic, expensive and exceeding classy, and ostrasizing and incredibily opportunistic all at the same time. For those foreigners living here, The Year of No Money offers a fascinating glimpse into not just the lives of those other foreigners who’s faces we see, but stories we never hear- but also into the darker – and brighter- side of ourselves.
Comments
This sounds like an interesting read! Thanks for this article Chuck!