We next published Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World and Dance Dance Dance, and these were also well reviewed and got noticed, but they were seen more as books for a niche readership, and again sales could have been better. At the time Japan’s economy was roaring, a go-go time when one bestseller was titled Japan as Number One; but cultural influences from Japan were minimal. When I talked with Americans, the topic usually centered on economic issues, and no one seemed interested in cultural topics. Ryuichi Sakamoto and Banana Yoshimoto were getting known at the time （even more so in Europe）， though in the US market at least they weren’t enough to create a trend that got people to pay attention to Japanese culture. To put it bluntly, Japan was seen as a country “rolling in wealth but basically mysterious.” Naturally there were those who read Kawabata, Tanizaki, and Mishima, and prized Japanese literature, but these were just a handful of intellectuals. For the most part your more discerning urban readers.
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.