Novelist as a Vocation(52)
So I was overjoyed when several of my short stories sold to The New Yorker (as a longtime fan of the magazine, it was like a dream to get my work published in it), but unfortunately I couldn’t break out to the next level. If you liken it to a rocket, it’s like the takeoff was fine but the second-stage booster didn’t work. But still, my close relationship with The New Yorker has continued up to the present day, through changes in the editors and literary editors, with the magazine becoming a reassuring home ground for me in America. The editors there seem genuinely fond of my style (which maybe suits their magazine’s image), and we made an exclusive writer’s contract. I felt quite honored when I later discovered that they’d made the same kind of contract with J. D. Salinger.
In the twenty-five years since my first short story was published in The New Yorker (“TV People,” September 10, 1990) and the timing of this writing, in 2015, I’ve had twenty-seven stories accepted and published in the magazine. The editorial department is very strict about choosing which stories to accept and which to reject, and they reject (it’s said) any work that doesn’t meet their set standards and tastes, no matter how famous the writer might be and how close his relationship might be to the editorial staff. The staff even unanimously turned down Salinger’s story “Zooey,” though ultimately it was published in the magazine through the efforts of the editor at the time, William Shawn. Of course I’ve had many works rejected. This makes it very different from magazines in Japan. But passing through this tough selection process and having my works regularly featured in The New Yorker has really helped me develop a readership in the US and gradually get my name known more widely. Its role has been crucial in my career abroad.
It’s hard for magazines in Japan to imagine the level of prestige and influence The New Yorker wields. Tell people in America that your novel sold a million copies in Japan or won some literary prize and they’re basically unimpressed, but get published in The New Yorker and they start treating you very differently. I often find myself envious of a culture like this, where such a landmark magazine exists.
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Several Americans I met through my work cautioned me, saying, “It’s difficult to be successful as a writer in America unless you sign a contract with a US agent and have your books come out from one of the major publishers.” And it goes without saying that I felt the same way. At least that was the situation back at the time. I felt bad toward the people at KA, but I decided to go out on my own and find an agent and a new publisher. After interviewing several people in New York, I decided to work with Amanda “Binky” Urban at the major agency ICM (International Creative Management); with the publisher Alfred A. Knopf (an imprint of what was then Random House) and its president and editor-in-chief, Sonny Mehta; and with the editor Gary Fisketjon. All three, at the time, were leading figures in the literary world in the US. Looking back at it now, I’m surprised how people of their caliber showed an interest in me, but I was desperate then and gave little thought to how important these people were. I just went with connections acquaintances of mine had, talked with a lot of people, and picked the ones I thought would be best.
I think there were three reasons why these three were interested in me. One is that I was a translator of Raymond Carver’s work and was the person who introduced him into Japan. The three of them were, in order, Raymond Carver’s agent, his publisher, and his chief editor. I don’t see this as mere coincidence. Perhaps the late Ray Carver was leading me to them. (At the time it was still just four or five years after he had passed away.) The second reason was that my novel Norwegian Wood had, as a two-volume set, sold two million copies in Japan, something that got into the news even in the US. Even in America literary works rarely sell two million copies. Thanks to this, my name started to get known in the US publishing world, with Norwegian Wood my calling card of sorts.
The third reason was that I had started to steadily publish works in the US, which people had begun to notice, and I was seen as a promising newcomer. The fact that The New Yorker thought highly of me was a tremendous influence. The legendary editor of The New Yorker, Robert Gottlieb, who succeeded William Shawn, for some reason took a personal liking to me, and I have a wonderful memory of him personally giving me a tour around the offices of the magazine. The literary editor I worked with directly, Linda Asher, was a charming woman, and got along amazingly well with me. She stepped down a long time ago from The New Yorker, but we’re still close. Looking back on it, it’s like The New Yorker trained me for the US market.
The result was that getting connected with these three people in the publishing world (Binky Urban, Sonny Mehta, and Gary Fisketjon) was a major reason that things went well. They were all very talented, enthusiastic people, with numerous contacts and a decided amount of influence in publishing. One other thing is that from my early collection The Elephant Vanishes to my latest novel, the covers of my books were all designed by Chip Kidd, the well-known designer for Knopf, and were all well received. There are people who wait for my new books just because they’re looking forward to his cover designs. Having Chip work on my books was another great blessing. (Author’s note: Sonny passed away in 2019, and Gary retired from Knopf in the same year. Binky and I are still working together.) And another reason I was successful, I believe, was that though I was technically a Japanese writer, I put that aside and was, from the very first, determined to stand on a level playing field with other American authors. I found my own translators and had them translate the works for me personally, checked them myself, then brought the translated manuscripts to my agent to sell to the publisher. This way my agent and publisher treated me the same way they would an American writer. Not as a foreign writer writing novels in a foreign language, but as someone standing on the same playing field as American novelists, playing by the same rules. The first thing I did was to make sure this system was firmly in place.