Otogizoshi: The Fairy Tale Book of Dazai Osamu

Prologue

“Ah! There they go.”

The father lays down his pen and climbs to his feet. A warning siren won’t budge him, but when the antiaircraft guns start roaring, he secures the padded air-raid hood over his five-year-old daughter’s shoulders, takes her in his arms, and carries her to the bomb shelter in the garden. The mother is already huddled inside this narrow trench, their two-year-old son strapped to her back.

“Sounds pretty close, eh?” the father says to her.

“Yes. It’s awfully cramped in here.”

“You think?” he says in an aggrieved tone. “But this is just the right size, really. Any deeper and you run the risk of being buried alive.”

“It could be a little wider, though, couldn’t it?”

“Mm. Maybe so, but the ground’s frozen right now. It’s not that easy to dig. I’ll get to it,” he promises vaguely, in hopes of ending the discussion so he can hear news of the air raid from a neighbor’s radio.

No sooner have the mother’s complaints subsided, however, than the five-year-old begins demanding they leave the trench. The only way to quiet this one is to open a picture book. Momotaro, Click-Clack Mountain, The Sparrow Who Lost Her Tongue, The Stolen Wen, Urashima-san… The father reads these old tales to the children.

Though he’s shabbily dressed and looks to be a complete fool, this father is a singular man in his own right. He has an unusual knack for making up stories.

Once upon a time, long, long ago…

Even as he reads the text in a strangely imbecilic voice, another, somewhat more elaborate tale is brewing inside him.