Japan Writers' Conference
Last weekend, I travelled through to Futaba, Fukushima, for the annual Japan Writers’ Conference. It is one of the highlights of the year, where writers, editors, publishers, translators, and readers from across Japan (and occasionally further afield) gather to talk about books, to catch up with a year’s worth of gossip, and to eat, drink, and be merry.
I was the host in 2023, at my university in Nagoya, so it was with great relief that I handed over the baton to the next host. Having hosted is so much less stressful than hosting, and this year I actually got to enjoy the talks and the dinner, without having to worry about everything, everywhere, all at once.
I’ve been to Fukushima before but never Futaba. I have to admit, I’d never even heard of the town. It’s on the coast, a tiny place with a conference centre, a business hotel, a single restaurant and… not much else. I booked into the hotel and didn’t think too much more about it until it came time to make travel plans. I was driving through so I put the route into Google Maps and started studying the route like the middle-aged man I am. It was only then that I realised exactly where I was going.
Futaba was in the exclusion zone around Fukushima Daichi Nuclear Reactor (yes, that one). It was destroyed in the tsunami, abandoned for a time, razed to the ground, and is slowly being rebuilt. The conference centre and hotel—and the JWC being held there—is part of this rebuilding. As yet no one actually lives in Futaba, but it’s on the way back. My hotel was about a mile or so from the reactor.
It made for a weird—and good—experience. No one really knew what to expect. Can we drink the water? Is the food safe? (Yes, and yes, and delicious). Could we actually see the reactor (kind of, there was a treeline in the way, but I drove right by the gates—without stopping). The local people were surprised that a hoard (about 50-60) of mostly foreigners descended on the town but were so friendly and welcoming (especially the woman who ran the only restaurant who probably sold more beer on that Friday night than anytime in recent memory). It felt nice to be pumping money into the local economy, and I came away with a car load of local produce (mostly peach-based).
The conference itself was the usual mix of pleasure and frustration; there are always three rooms running at the same time so you are forced to miss two thirds of the events. I read from Mountain Retreats as part of the Isobar Press event and it seemed to go down well. I have to admit to being a bit rough since I was on at 10:15am and the night before a group of us were to be found on the beach just along from the sea-ravaged cliffs in front of the rector absolutely tanning a bottle of whisky.
I also picked up the latest publications from some of the other presenters. The book room at JWC is one of my favourite places in Japan, and the weeks after when I get to enjoy the books I’ve bought. A lot of poetry this year, so I’m looking forward to lighting the fire, cracking the wine, and getting stuck in.
Next year I believe the conference is back in Tokyo. Logistically much more convenient but lacking some of the adventure of this year. Either way, I can’t wait.
