A Review of Naoki Matayoshi’s “Spark”
The Banzai of Manzai
If there’s one universal thing, it’s that everyone who loves life loves to laugh. But comedy is subjective: what you might find to be funny might be different from what I might find to be funny. So is the case with the 2015 Japanese short novel Spark. It’s about a brand of Japanese comedy called manzai, which always consists of two people: a straight man and a funny guy. There’s a whole industry centered around manzai comedians in Japan — frequently, a group of these performers will do their schtick in theatres at an event hosted by a talent agency in a way that’s similar to North American stand-up comedy. The different thing is that, at the end of the night, the acts get graded by the audience on how funny they were, and then they’re ranked. If you start to become an act that gets highly ranked, you might find more gigs (and more professional ones) and TV appearances coming not too far behind.
What’s striking about this novel — written by a stand-up Japanese comic — is that it shows manzai to be absurdist comedy. It may not be, to Western audiences, particularly funny. In fact, a lot of it — as illustrated by this book — pushes the boundaries of what is acceptable and civilized behaviour. Case in point, this short novel focuses on the relationship between two manzai from competing troupes who join in a master-servant style of relationship with the older manzai showing the ropes to the younger one. At one point early in this story, the duo comes across a drummer in the park. Rather than simply enjoy the music, the sensei of the duo actually begins to accost the drummer to not playing a beat to his liking. Case in point part two is another part of the novel where the duo encounters a young woman and her crying baby in a park. To soothe the child, the elder begins to recite haiku about flies.
Some may think that something got lost in translation with this book, but I’m not so sure. I think that what young Japanese people might find funny is of a different sensibility that a Western audience might find funny, and I think manzai is meant to be bizarre. But, speaking of which, the humour is plenty weird. Essentially, you have to come to this book as a Westerner not expecting gut-rattling laughs but the touching and tender story of the master and his servant bonding, and the servant gradually coming to eclipse the success of the master. If there’s any particular problem in the telling of this tale, it’s that we don’t get a lot of scenes of the troupes performing their material on stage, and there’s not a lot of backstage gossip-y style elements to this story. That means we have to focus on the odd couple relationship between the two men at the story’s heart. And that, in turn, doesn’t give readers a lot to chew on.
Having said that, though, Spark is a fun and entertaining book. It’s a quick, breezy read and it has a light touch. It does end with a bit of a zinger that shows just how far some people will go for the pursuit of laughs in the name of comedy, even if it might offend some. Still, Spark is an enjoyable read — and it’s easy to see both why this novel became a cult hit in Japan and spawned a Netflix series. Speaking of which, that series is now a few years old, so it’s a little strange that the English translation of this book is only following now, but whatever. Having read this book, I’d be curious to see how the TV series turned out and how faithful it is to the source material, which meanders at best.
Much of the book consists of scenes in Japanese bars as its characters plot their next moves, and the dialogue is punchy enough. Essentially, what you get with Spark is a buddy comedy. This is a tale about how two people who are polar opposites of each other can get along throughout a 10-year relationship and I would assume that much of the book was grist from its author’s chosen career. In any event, Spark is a book that has its deficiencies — I wanted to see more of the Japanese comedy world — but more than makes up for them with character sketches. This is a love letter to Japan and its particular brand of comedy, and is a particular postcard to the city and suburbs of Tokyo in particular. And while the scales of success tip for each of these characters — and the success or failure seems to happen overnight and is glossed over — you’ll forgive the author for being light on the touch of detail and simply enjoy the ride.
Much like Japanese comedy, different people are going to have different reactions to this book. If you’re looking for observational humor developed from everyday life, look elsewhere. If you’re looking for an exposé of the Japanese nightclub or theatre scene, look elsewhere, really. This is simply just a delicate delicacy, a juicy, tasty book that’s skimpy on details of the hows and whats but more about the human relationships and costs surrounding being part of a two-man comedy act. (Which reminds me, we never really hear much from the respective partners in the comedy troupes these characters belong to, but no matter. I’m grousing.) You’ll probably read Spark and just go skipping along the pages, marching to the distinctive beat of an odd novel that offers a whole lot of enjoyment, even if it might be skimpy in the laughs department — or at least the style of laughs you’re used to. It’s a unique read, that’s for sure, and anyone interested in Japanese pop culture would certainly enjoy this wild ride of a novel.
Naoki Matayoshi’s Spark will be published by Pushkin Press on August 25, 2020.
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Get in touch: zacharyhoule@rogers.com
