First published in 1998, this travelogue recounts the author's – Will Ferguson's – hitchhiking adventure from the south of Japan to it's most northern point, following the blooming cherry blossoms as spring washes across the country.
The arrival of the cherry blossoms is of great importance to the Japanese, a celebrated moment in the calendar. And Ferguson tells of how he announced to colleagues (he taught English in Japan), after a little too much saké, that he would hitchhike a journey, following the blossoms blooming across the country, to really celebrate their coming. To give the moment its proper due.
Swept along by the ensuing enthusiasm of his colleagues and, as it turns out, probably a lack of satisfaction with his life, he commits himself to his expedition . . .
I am finding it hard to drum up the words for this book. It left me torn.
For a start, I think that I would've probably hated hitchhiking with the author on the trip he details. Readers might be grateful for only experiencing the trip via Ferguson's telling.
He falls in love with every woman with whom he has even the slightest of encounters, if they are pretty enough in his eyes.
And his attitude towards the wildlife of Japan is to sit resolutely in his ignorance, to anthropomorphise, giving himself reason to justify fear and mockery. That's a bit of a personal bugbear, but from reading other of Ferguson's work, I know he is not incapable of study and understanding. That he is capable of balancing the humour with fact and reason.
However, the reader should reflect upon the title of the book perhaps, before judging the author too harshly – Hokkaido Highway Blues. This book is not just the recounting of a trip across Japan, it is a man reflecting on his place in the world. Sometimes literally his place in the world. It is a realisation that some journeys need to be taken not because of where we are going, but because it is time to leave.
The very notion of trying to follow spring, the arrival of cherry blossoms, hitchhiking across Japan to do so, speaks to that desperate desire to some have to keep ahold of what is passing. The lengths that people go to trying to hold onto things that are meant to be temporary. Can only ever be temporary.
When the author tells of finding himself in parts of Japan still touched by cold and brutal winter, it reflects his feelings of discontent.
It is notable that his journey ultimately ends not with sunshine and blossoms, but with a storm and the inability to travel any further.
This is a tricky read. Enjoyable because Ferguson is a talented writer, and capable of great insight, humour, and something poetic at times. But difficult because the writer is cynical and, as he is in the chapter of his life he details here at least, struggling with feelings of dissatisfaction. Once the reader realises this though, that deeper feelings might be the root of the surface sourness, perhaps they can forgive the writer some of his surly sarcasm, and consider his telling with some understanding.
My advice might be to consider that the author's outward attitude in this book – towards the landscape, the people, and the pursuit itself at the centre of this book – says much about where he was himself emotionally. That any discomfort you feel as he falls for another woman on the road or when he winds up in some cheap hotel, alone and drunk, is intended. Being human means sometimes being unlikeable as we deal with our shit. That the discomfort you feel, may be what the author felt as his hitchhiking became a journey of self-discovery.
And self-discovery isn't always sweeping music, cinematic shots, and uplifting quotes – affirmation porn. Sometimes it's another shitty path you have to walk a while.
We need books to remind us of that too.
Do I recommend this book?
Yes, I do. Ferguson really is a talented writer, capable of wonderful insight. But he isn't always likeable here. But, if you stop and consider why that could be, you might find yourself returning to the pages with empathy and understanding.
You can purchase Hokkaido Highway Blues by Will Ferguson here.
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Thank you for reading!
