Beyond the Blossoming
Fields
By Jun’ichi Watanabe
It may seem like all I do is read books on pioneering women,
but I actually finished this book rather closer to the present day than I did She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, I just took
longer about actually reviewing that one.
This was one of those impulse borrows from the library, and I was amazed
that I had never before heard the story of Ginko Osino, Japan’s first qualified
woman doctor. Although I like to read books from other languages and try to
read a few every year, the problem of translation always comes up. I don’t know if the rather strange style used
here is Watanabe’s original or a byproduct of translators Deborah Iwabuchi and
Anna Isozaki. The fact remains that the
book was published in Japan in 1970 and translated into English in 2008. Why is that?
This is based on a true story, but I have no way of knowing
how much is artistic license and how much is based on facts. I don’t really care, given it’s a cracking
yarn with an extremely charismatic and strong female lead, and set in a time and
place about which I know very little:
the second half of the 19th century in and around Tokyo. The fact that a woman in Japan would be
struggling for acceptance as a doctor at roughly the same time as her counterparts
in countries like the UK, the US, and Sweden is interesting to me. The book begins when Gin is barely 18 and is
granted a divorce from her husband, which she has sought because he gave her gonorrhoea. At this stage it is an incurable disease and
she will never be able to have children.
This makes her life officially over, given that society at the time
makes a woman a wife, a mother, and a domestic tactician, but no more. But Gin chooses something else—an extremely difficult
but ultimately rewarding path. When Gin
goes to Tokyo for medical treatment, she is horrified at the brutal way the
male doctors examine her. She vows to
become a doctor herself so that other women do not have to suffer the way she
did.
To say she meets with great opposition is an
understatement. When her mother, who has
hitherto been a pillar of strength for her, finds out, she is more or less
disowned. Her brother sends her money to
live on for just one year while she studies.
Her older sister Tomoko is shocked but eventually grudgingly respects
her. Having come from the gentry class,
being penniless in Tokyo is very difficult for Gin. But she is not completely without allies—her family
physician, Dr Mannen, and his daughter Ogie, a rare breed of female scholar,
help her find Yorikuni Inoue, a top scholar, who teaches her. Fortunately for Gin, she is young, beautiful,
aristocratic, self-reliant, with an iron will, formidable intelligence, and a redoubtable
work ethic. Also, society is changing,
becoming open to Western influence and, though it may be surprising for us
students of Western history to hear, forms of emancipation for women, as well
as new forms of science, are just some of the innovations slowly filtering
through.
Immediately out of study with Yorikuni, Gin is recruited to
teach in a small girls’ school before being among the first to study at the
Tokyo Women’s Normal School in 1875.
However, her concentration on her studies has meant Yorikuni’s proposal
of marriage is a big shock. She is in for an even bigger shock when, years
later, she realizes that she has lost her teacher’s affection—in the end he
prefers a more conventional woman.
Having changed her name to Ginko, she faces her biggest challenge yet when
enrolled at the Kojuin Medical School, which is openly hostile to women
students in general and Ginko in particular.
Her fellow students are appalling to her; she has to put up with verbal
abuse, taunts, and the return of her illness.
Her schoolwork is, without fail, impressive, but she cannot afford the
(European) textbooks and must take on tutoring to pay school fees. Not only that, she has to face down a gang
rape attempt, erase all aspects of her femininity, and she comes up with an
audacious solution to lack of human anatomical models with which to work: she and four scared classmates go to an
execution ground to bodysnatch. It is interesting
that the exploits of Burke and Hare are ghoulish, but Ginko’s master plan is laudatory—even
Ginko’s closest friends cannot understand her desire for real-life bodies; such
things in the culture are taboo as bodies were cremated. Illness and overwork plague her. Her mother does not live to see her
triumph.
By 1883, she has gotten through medical school, only to come
up against a bureaucracy that year after year rejects her application for the
medical board exam only because she is a woman “there is no precedent.” She
charms her way into being able to take the exam and, of course, passes with flying
colors. At the age of 35, she has
finally become a licensed physician and enjoys an extremely brief spell of
universal acclaim. There is a photo of
her in Western dress when she marked the occasion. In May 1885, she opened the Ogino Obstetric
and Gynaecological Clinic in Tokyo, and a shift in the book occurs. What has been a one-woman struggle could
almost be a version of Doctor Quinn,
Medicine Woman as she gradually wins over patients and suddenly comes into
contact with poverty and social problems.
A new aspect of her personality emerges; she has spent many hard years
fighting everyone and only relying on herself.
Thus she seems strict, perfectionist, and occasionally puritanical with
her patients and hospital staff.
The book shifts yet again when Ginko’s frustrated social
conscience provides a fertile ground for the levelling and inclusive teachings
of Christianity (at its best, an antidote to Japan’s class system much as it
would have seemed to early Christians in Roman Judea). In an interesting twist, she becomes a
Christian, baptized in November 1885.
She becomes active in the Japan Christian Women’s Organization and, in
common with similar movements in Europe and on other continents, sincerely
believes in destroying prostitution and alcohol, with concurrent medical and
scholarly education for women. Her
beliefs are put to the test more than once, and she gains attention not only as
a medical practitioner, but as a reformer.
Then things take a truly unexpected turn; we never quite
spin into Romantic territory, but we are certainly in romantic territory. Namely, for the first time, Ginko falls in
love—with a much younger man, a trainee priest whose extremely advanced ideas
as well as devotion to her in her over.
Because no one will sanction the match, including the very people who
innocuously introduced the couple, they are married by Reverend O.H. Gulick in
1890. Ginko’s life will never be the
same—it’s difficult to decide whether her life would have been better or worse
if she had not married Shikata.
Nevertheless, the married couple eventually decides to go to the island
of Hokkaido, at that time a wilderness which Shikata compares to the Pilgrims
going to Plymouth Rock, to create a Christian paradise. Like so many Christian paradises, this one
fails. Living in exile from modern Tokyo
society, Ginko eventually loses touch with all she holds dear, and by the time
Shitaka dies unexpectedly, she has almost withdrawn from the world. The final chapter of her life is a calm ending
to a uphill struggle.
I cannot think of many women I have read about who are more
courageous than Ginko Ogino. It seems
really strange to me that her story is so unknown (in English, at least). I would recommend Beyond the Blossoming Fields far more fervently than I would Memoirs of a Geisha; surely it should be
at least as famous as that book is.
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