Salon

Back in Soviet times, Japan occupied an important place in the hearts of Russians. The images associated with that country were mostly classical ones, dating back centuries: shoguns, kimonos and samurai swords. Japanese art was also perceived as timeless; the 1980 Soviet miniseries "Krosh's Vacation" popularized the ancient art of netsuke with its story of a boy foiling the machinations of a collector of the tiny figures. Possibly as a consequence, the International Netsuke Society today numbers several artists from the former Soviet Union.

Perhaps the best-known representative of Japanese culture was the movie director Akira Kurosawa who filmed samurai epics and Orientalized versions of the works of William Shakespeare and Fyodor Dostoevsky. Scholars aside, most people did not read Japanese literature; the latest examples of current fiction were translations of Kenzaburo Oe and Kobo Abe, who depicted modern Japan as a gloomy, unreal and dangerous world.

The change happened almost overnight, when in the late 1990s Dmitry Kovalenin published online his translation of "A Wild Sheep Chase" by Haruki Murakami. Back then, Kovalenin worked as a translator and agent at a major Japanese port and had no literary credentials. After acclaim from the Internet community, his translation was published by St. Petersburg's "Azbuka" in 1998. It became an instant hit, and the rest is history.

Murakami's popularity coincided with a growing interest in all things Japanese, from second-hand cars to restaurants. Seizing the opportunity, the publishers started churning out translations of Japanese literature, and the market, which is usually wary of "highbrow" foreign books, readily accepted the invasion. Following the translations of Haruki Murakami came Russian editions of authors such as Ryu Murakami (no relation), whose dark tale of vengeance, "Coin Locker Babies," is now being turned into a Hollywood movie, and Banana Yoshimoto with her satirical grasp of modern Japanese life.

However, it seems that the Russian infatuation with Japan is declining. Murakami remains a bestselling author, and Kovalenin has even published a book about him, "Sushi Noir," which is selling pretty well. But the reading public has reached saturation point. "When I suggest reviewing a new Murakami for a glossy magazine, I get the reaction 'For crying out loud!'" the book reviewer Ksenia Rozhdestvenskaya said recently.

There are other candidates for the role of the "uncanny other" in the national psyche -- Balkan writers, Latin Americans and even Western Europeans from remoter countries such as Norway. However, none of them is alien or mysterious enough, which means that our interest in Japan is bound to resurface.