“My Supposed Motherland”: Pachinko and the Intergenerational Search for Identity 

Pachinko Parlour, Modern-day Japan

“History has failed us, but no matter”(p. 3). This is the epigraph displayed on the first page of Min Jin Lee’s second novel, Pachinko (2017). The Dickensian novel spans eight decades and four generations of the Baek family as they immigrate to Japan from Korea and must weather the Great Depression, World War II, the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, and the Cold War which eventually divides their homeland - all while trying to make a home out of Japan. 

As Koreans in Japan, the Baek family formed part of those generally referred to as Zainichi - quite literally meaning “foreign resident” in Japanese. The existence of this group arose from the colonialist-imperialist history of Japan, which was then complicated even further by its relationship with Korea’s post-war independence from the island. Neither Korean nor Japanese, the Zainichi occupy a unique position in Japanese society. As the Zainichi are an ethnic minority in a country that regards itself as racially homogenous, problems of racism, historical exclusion, nationality, identity and social belonging plague the group - all of which are explored in Pachinko. 

Pachinko is groundbreaking because, although it spans some of the most important historical events of the 20th century, it chooses to centre itself around individuals who have been historically overlooked. Through the Baeks, (Zainichi themselves) the novel tells the story of ordinary people who are struggling to steer their own path against history itself, simply attempting to survive the knock-off effects of it. 

Wider Historical Context: 

Pachinko is in a very rich and particular era of modern East Asian History. Through the spanning of 73 years, we follow the story of the family, but we also see the progression of history and Korean-Japanese relations as the backdrop of the novel. Offering no omniscient narrator or other literary devices to explain the greater historical context, the novel encompasses colonial Korea, World War II, the Allied Occupation of Japan, the Korean War, and Japan’s high-growth and “bubble economy” periods. The readers are forced to experience these events exclusively from the perspective of the main characters: ordinary people with a very limited understanding of the world they’re living in and their immediate experience. 

I was certainly surprised to learn the degree to which Japan’s and Korea’s histories are entwined, starting with the similarities between the civilisations residing on the southern Korean peninsula and the southern Japanese islands in the centuries bridging the advent of the Common Era. The centuries brought waves of immigration to the Japanese archipelago, and with them skills such as writing, construction, metallurgy; along with the concepts of Buddhism and Confucianism.  Relations between the two nations became hostile in the mediaeval and early pre-modern eras, first from frequented assault by “Japanese pirates” (actually composed of various ethnicities) and later from a failed invasion force ordered by samurai and daimyō, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, in the late 16th century (prof. Todd Munson). 

Japan’s early modern period (1600 - 1868) was marked by a high degree of national isolation, and it was the founding of the Meiji State in 1868 that witnessed an increasingly aggressive turn towards imperialism. The archipelago sought to emulate the modern colonial powers of nations like Great Britain and France, thus hacking a plan to invade Korea. Meiji’s cabinet looked for new ways to fuel Japan’s modernisation and growing population with food and resources and wanted to secure the Korean peninsula - since they saw it as a vital entryway into the home islands. In attempting to open diplomatic relations with Korea, Japan sent a letter to the government in 1868 introducing itself. However, the Joseon Kingdom only recognized one empire and rejected the letter, believing Meiji saw himself as equal to the Qing Emperor. It was due to this perceived slight to the emperor that, in 1875, Japan sailed into the restricted waters of Ganghwa island and subsequently forced Korea to sign the 1976 Treaty of Ganghwa - which opened Korea to Japanese commerce, debilitating the influence of the Qing Dynasty on the peninsula.

The years spanning 1880 to 1890’s was a tumultuous one for East Asia, to say the least. Guided by a rhetoric of Imperial worship and disbelief in the sacred spirit and superiority of the Japanese people, the Meiji government set parallel courses on industrialization and Imperial expansion. Japan’s neighbour, Korea, saw itself as a major target, boasting abundant raw materials and a potential market for industrial manufacturers. Korea resisted the Japanese, with the Qing Dynasty attempting to maintain influence by sending Chinese forces to subdue a coup in Korea; which resulted in the first Sino-Japanese War of 1894 - 1895. This war and the Treaty of Shimonoseki permanently extinguished Chinese influence and marked the onset of heavy Japanese investment and development in the Korean peninsula. The Russo–Japanese War of 1904–1905, fought to consolidate control of Korea and northeastern China, confirmed Japan’s predominant interests in the peninsula, which became a “protectorate” led by a Japanese resident-general. Five years later, Korea was formally annexed as a Japanese colony, and the 500-year-plus Chosŏn dynasty came to an end.

Early 1900's Korea, photographers and subjects unknown

Understanding the Zainichi in Japan: 

The Japanese colonisation of Korea in 1910 led to the mass migration of Koreans to Japan. Repressive colonial measures, land confiscations, and the settlement of Japanese farmers in Korea forced Koreans—85 percent of whom worked the land—to migrate and seek livelihood in Japan, particularly in Osaka (where the majority of Pachinko takes place). During this time, it was Korean Zainichi who filled the labour shortages in Japan’s rapidly industrialising cities; regardless, they were paid poorly and could only work in industries which require no special skills or education; jobs with appalling working environments. These times saw blatant discrimination and scarce housing for Zainichi. 

In 1945, the world would witness the defeat of Japan in World War II, along with Korea’s subsequent independence from Japan. This meant that the Zinichi could, in principle, repatriate. Nevertheless, very few chose to do so because they already had their livelihood in Japan (Shin 2018). Additionally, the tumultuous post-war years that Korea would see (due to the partition of the peninsula) dissipated Korean Zainichi from choosing sides. Most chose to retain their imperial citizenship, but this was later stripped off after the 1952 San Francisco Peace Treaty was enacted; which restored Japan’s political independence from the Allied Occupation under the United States. Consequently, Koreans in Japan also “lost all the legal properties of national belonging” in the country, thereby becoming stateless or refugees (Ryang 2012). 

Between 1946 and 1955, establishments of diasporic organisations such as Mindan (Korean Residents Union in Japan) and Chongryon (General Association of Korean Residents in Japan) reflected the ideological partition of the Korean peninsula, with the former affiliated with South Korea and the latter with North Korea. It was organisations such as these that maintained the Zainichi’s foreign nationality in Japan, and “actively discouraged their members from naturalising despite the obvious advantages of foreign citizenship status” (Chung 2010). Both Mindan and Chongryon advocated for repatriation and urged Zainichi to maintain their Korean nationality, spreading views of Japanese naturalisation as a betrayal of the Korean homeland. 

On the other hand, the Zainichi were not much wanted in Japan either. Their existence unsettled Japan’s dominant identity discourse of nihonjinron: single-race nationhood based on blood, and an ideology of homogeneity that underpins citizenship. The dissolution of the Treaty of San Francisco put the Zainichi in a precarious position, exposing them to the possibility of deportation and limiting their access to state welfare (Hester 2008). The Korean Zainchi found themselves in a difficult position, forced to make challenging, life-altering decisions: either to nationalise or repatriate. Repatriation meant going back to a fragmented homeland that one felt no allegiance to, and although becoming a Japanese citizen would stabilise their social positioning, it would nevertheless be seen as a betrayal of Korean identity.  

The overarching dilemma of the Zainichi remains as such: go back to a homeland which has become alien? Or be an alien in a chosen homeland? 

Plot Summary:  

The novel is divided into three parts: Book I (Gohyang/Hometown), Book II (Motherland), and Book III (Pachinko). 

Spanning a total of 23 years, from 1910 to 1933, Book I begins with the story of Hoonie, Sunja’s father, and ends with the birth of Sunja’s child, Noa. Starting with the Japanese annexation of Korea, the story begins in the fishing village of Yengdo, where teenaged Sunja’s commences a clandestine relationship with Koh Hansu - a Korean man living in Osaka. The union ultimately leaves Sunja pregnant, and upon learning that Hansu has a family and a wife back in Japan, Sunja is unable to marry him and must live with the shame. 

Nevertheless, when Baek Isak (a lodger passing at Sunja's mother boardinghouse) learns about Sunja’s condition, he proposes they get married and move together to Osaka, where Isak’s brother, Yoseb, and sister-in-law, Kyunghee, reside. Sunja agrees and marries Isak, following him to Osaka where he begins his position as minister of the Christian church. Although the issue of Sunja’s pregnancy has been resolved, Japan brings its own set of complications - poor living conditions for Koreans and very little work offered to Korean nationals lead to the Baek’s living in the fringes of poverty.

The end of Book I concludes with the birth of Sunja’s child, Noa. 

Book II, dates between 1939 to 1962. The novel jumps in time, and we learn that Sunja is raising two boys now: Noa and Mozasu (fathered by Isak). However, shortly after the birth of Mozasu, Isak is arrested and thrown in jail for refusing to worship the emperor and reciting the Lord’s Prayer instead. 

Upon hearing this, Sunja decides that she must begin working to provide the family with more of an income - and resolves this by selling kimchi at the local market. Her kimchi makes waves and a man by the name of Kim Changho employs both Sunja and Kyunghee to make their famous kimchi in his restaurant. This job offer comes in handy since the women no longer have to worry about the scarcity of produce (due to Japan entering World War II) and can now count on a steady income. 

It is during this time that, after three years of incarceration and mistreatment, Isak is released from prison. Nevertheless, Isak is sickly and dying, and the family must come to terms with the fact that - although he is back home - Isak has been sent back home to die, extinguishing any hope the family had of being reunited. 

Years pass, and Sunja comes to learn that the restaurant she has been working at is in fact owned by Koh Hansu (Noa’s biological father). When Hansu shows up at the restaurant late at night, she reveals that Kim Changho works for him and that it was Hansu who directed Changho to offer Sunja a job. Now Hansu is back and urges Sunja to take her sons and the rest of her family and escape to the countryside. Hansu explains that Japan is losing the war, soon the Americans will begin bombing the big cities and all will be lost.  

Hansu arranges for Sunja and her family to weather the rest of the war at a sweet potato farm in the Japanese countryside. Sunja agrees, and all follow (including her mother, Yangjin, who Hansu has brought all the way from Korea) except for Yoseb, who takes a job at a factory in Nagasaki. It is during his time there that Yoseb becomes a victim of the atomic bomb, and although he survives the initial bombing, his body is horribly burned, permanently crippling him. 

After a few years, the family returns to Osaka, and Noa gains acceptance to Waseda University. Despite Sunja’s resistance, Hansu offers to pay for tuition and all costs related to Noa’s stay in Tokyo, pretending it is simply because as an older Korean man, he feels a responsibility in helping the younger generation. On the other hand, Mozasu drops out of school and begins working at a pachinko parlour for a man named Goro. 

It is during these years that Mozasu meets seamstress Yumi, they marry and have a son named Solomon. Yumi later dies in a car accident, leaving Mozasu to raise their son on his own. Noa, who has continued his studies and looks up to Hansu as a mentor, accidentally discovers that Hansu is his father, and he learns of his ties to the yakuza. Upon learning this, he confronts Sunja who confirms Noa’s true parentage. Ashamed of his true heritage and of being linked to corrupt blood, he drops out of university and abandons his family - not telling them where he went. 

The third and last book, titled Pachinko, spans from 1962 to 1989. We learn that Noa moved to Nagano, where he intends to find work in order to repay his student debt to Hansu. He becomes a bookkeeper for a racist pachinko owner who won't hire Koreans and lives undercover using his Japanese name, Nobuo, marrying a Japanese woman and having four children. After having abandoned his birth family and living sixteen years under a false identity, Noa is tracked down by Hansu at the request of Sunja. Though Hansu warns Sunja not to immediately approach Noa, Sunja refuses to listen to his warnings and begs Noa to reunite with her and the rest of the family. Noa promises to call, and he commits suicide shortly after Sunja leaves.

In the meantime, Mozasu has become extremely wealthy. He owns several pachinko parlours all across Japan and is dating a Japanese divorcée named Etsuko. Solomon, on the other hand, begins a sexual relationship with Etusko’s older daughter, Hana - who eventually uses Solomon’s money to escape to Tokyo. 

Years pass and we learn that Solomon attends university in New York City and has a Korean-American girlfriend named Phoebe. After graduating from Columbia University, Solomon takes a job at a British bank and moves back to Japan with Phoebe. His first major client project involves convincing an elderly Korean woman to sell her land in order to clear the way for the construction of a golf resort, which he accomplishes by calling in a favour from his father's friend Goro. When the woman dies of natural causes soon afterwards, Solomon's employers claim that the deal will attract negative publicity and thus fire him, citing his father's connections to pachinko and implying that the woman was murdered. With newfound resolve and a clearer outlook on life, Solomon breaks up with Phoebe, and goes to work for his father's business: Pachinko.  

The book ends with the character who started it all, the now-elderly Sunja. She visits Isak's grave and reflects on her life, and learns from the cemetery groundskeeper that despite the shame he felt for his family, Noa had regularly visited Isak's grave even after moving to Nagano. This gives Sunja the closure and reassurance she needs, and she buries a photo of Noa beside Isak's grave.

Baek Family Tree

What is Pachinko? 

Pachinko is a cross between pinball and slot machines and relies on both skill and luck to win. Players launch small balls around a special pachinko machine, trying to win as many balls as possible - which they can choose to keep playing with, or hand in for winnings. It is a form of gambling which has been exclusive to Japan for years, and although gambling is illegal in the country, pachinko has been able to survive thanks to one loophole. 

This loophole relates to how players receive their winnings. The law dictates that players are not allowed to exchange their balls for money at the parlour or remove the balls from the premises; instead, there are different systems in place that allow the players to indirectly exchange their balls for something of value. 

Vintage 1974 Sankyo Mini-Mouth Pachinko Machine

Usually, the players receive a ticket that they must then take to a separate vendor, often very nearby, where they now can exchange the ticket for their money. Usually, the separate vendors work closely with the pachinko owners themselves and will then sell said tickets back in a complex transaction. Other venues offer players special prize items that they can exchange their balls for. It is these technicalities that allow the gambling of pachinko to continue despite the law.

An estimated 80% of Pachinko parlours in Japan are owned by ethnic Koreans. 

Baek Noa: More to Being than Just Blood?:

Pachinko is a novel that plagues its characters with questions of identity, which are then complicated even further by the conformist Japanese society they reside in, which often sees difference first (especially Korean difference) and sees it as a matter of “dirty” blood. Colonisation, migration, and a war that has fractured their homeland - the characters are at a loss for a clear sense of belonging and home. The novel explores the existential issues and predicaments that each generation faces. 

In Osaka, characters like Sunja and Kyunghee never feel completely at home - not only because they will never be fully accepted into Japanese society, but also because of their status as first-generation Korean immigrants. For these women, the homeland is deeply tied to tradition and culture. For them, being Korean is about being able to practise your culture as a way to connect with your homeland; which explains both Sunja’s and Kyugnhee’s shock when they learn that Solomon’s Korean-American girlfriend, Phoebe, does not often eat Korean food nor does she know how to cook it. 

“The women understood that the mother was busy and hardworking, but it seemed inconceivable to them that a Korean mother didn’t cook for her family. (...) Phoebe laughed, because the fact that none of them cooked Korean food was a point of pride.”

(p. 498) 

Unlike Sunja and Kyunghee, it is second-generation migrants such as Phoebe who seem to struggle the most with identity. As we follow the subsequent Baek generations, the problem becomes more and more acute - with the characters having to work harder to understand their differences and similarities as they develop deeper roots in Japan than in Korea. 

Take Sunja’s firstborn son, Noa, as an example. His character seems to perceive Korean blood as a setback, something which unfairly yet invariably limits his possibilities, horizons and, ultimately, his happiness. Noa is the most studious of the two boys and has aspirations of attending Waseda University. Throughout the novel, there have been countless direct comments at Noa about his intellect and hard academic work: he will bring respect to all Koreans in Japan thanks to his intellect and his academic pursuits. Nevertheless, when, as a college student at Waseda, he learns that yakuza leader Koh Hansu is his biological father - and not the martyr, Isak - he is a wreck, and believes this makes him “dirty”. Noa’s character seems to have internalised Japanese ideas around blood purity, believing that blood impacts one’s sense of self. Sunja tries to explain that “blood doesn’t matter”, but rather, Isak’s conscious choice to be his father does. But Noa protests: 

“Yakuza are the filthiest people in Japan […] I will never be able to wash this dirt from my name […] How can you make something clean from something dirty? And now, you have made me dirty”

(p. 345)

He explains that all his life, he’s tried to escape the relentless Japanese taunt that Korean blood is dirty and criminal; now that he knows the truth about Hansu, Noa believes he is tainted after all. Sunja wants Noa to accept that Isak’s fatherly devotion is stronger than Hansu’s questionable ties, but Noa can only see that his blood—and his hard-won identity—have been sullied. This is why learning the truth about his father breaks him because he cannot ignore the truths of his origins. He is no longer pure, righteous, and honourable - he is the fruit of adultery and a union that is stained with dishonesty. Knowing this truth, how could he ever be an honourable person himself? How could he ever live with himself? He is not a ‘good’ Korean anymore because he is not the son of Isak - the martyr. 

Woman playing pachinko, 1970’s Japan

Noa proceeds by dropping out of Waseda and moving to Nagano, where he assumes a Japanese identity and lies about his ethnicity in order to keep his job as a bookkeeper in a Pachinko parlour. Still believing his blood is impure and tainted, he marries a Japanese woman similarly marred by a family scandal. Once he finally resigns himself to the idea that he is tainted, he naturally gravitates towards a life that subconsciously confirms what he believes about his own self and his blood - by working at a pachinko (a dishonourable and morally ambiguous job in Noa’s eyes) and marrying a woman whose bloodline is just as “dirty”. Years later, once Sunja finally tracks Noa down with Hansu’s help, he is still unresolved about the issue of his origins: 

“I suppose having yakuza in your blood is something that controls you. I can never be clean of [Hansu].”

(p. 423 )

Moments after Sunja leaves him, Noa commits suicide - confirming his inability to bear the tension between his chosen Japanese identity and his real identity much longer. 

As a second-generation Zainchi who was born and raised in Japan, Noa is desperate to conform, and readers know this even before Noa himself learns Hansu is his biological father. Mimicking the Japanese and hiding his Korean identity from his classmates by using his tsumei (his Japanized name). 

“At school, he went by his Japanese name, Nobuo Boku, rather than Noa Baek; and though everyone in his class knew he was Korean because of his Japanized surname, if he met anyone who didn’t know this fact, Noa wasn’t forthcoming about this detail. He spoke and wrote better Japanese than most native children (...) Above all the other secrets Noa could not speak of, the boy wanted to be Japanese; it was his dream to leave Ikaino and never to return”

(p. 176)

As detailed above, ever since childhood Noa has wanted to be Japanese - and how could one blame him? Constantly ostracised and marginalised due to his Korean ethnicity, the boy had only ever wanted to belong. While studying in Waseda, Noa understands something fundamental when his Japanese girlfriend, Akiko, confronts him about Hansu: he only wants to be seen for his humanity, without all the labels that come with nationality and ethnicity. Noa simply wants to be seen as a human and be treated like one: 

“Noa didn’t care about being Korean with [Akiko, his girlfriend] in fact he didn’t care about being Korean or Japanese with anyone. He wanted to be, to be just himself, whatever that meant”

(p. 308).

Noa’s response to learning the truth about his identity is incredibly painful to the reader. He has always believed that if he became the ideal student and son, he “would help the Korean people by his excellence of character and workmanship, and that no one would be able to look down on him” (p. 309). But now this is irredeemable, he believes that he comes from a bad seed and that this is impossible to change. Noa’s desire to define an identity for himself is lost, and he banishes himself. In a way, this character has fully adopted Japanese ideas on blood purity - nihonjinron

The sad and ironic part is, that most of the things that Noa relied on for his sense of identity - religion and his studies - were paths chosen by him, for him. However, Noa seems unable to understand that, regardless of his biological father's status as a mobster, he still has a choice in who he is. He does this when he moves to Nagano and decides to pass for Japanese - but why was it so hard for him to choose Isak as his real father? Realise that biology only goes a certain way - it is almost as if Noa himself is a self-fulfilling prophecy that he does not want to accept by working in a Pachinko parlour. It is only after he sees his mother again that he seems to understand that blood is blood; thus, killing himself. 

“Zainichi meant life; its denial meant death” 

(John Lie 2009, p. 172).

Vintage Pachinko Parlour, 1970’s

Mozasu, Solomon, and the Promise of Third Generations: 

In sheer contrast to his older brother, Mozasu does not have the same goals. He is not at all concerned with hiding his Korean ethnicity and refuses to let others treat him poorly based on this - oftentimes resorting to physical violence. Mozasu does not strive to be a model Korean, he seems to understand the fundamental truth that Noa so desperately wanted to control: whether he is a good Korean or not, it does not matter, Japanese society will never change the way he is treated. This is why he decides to work in Pachinko, no matter how disrespected and tainted the industry is, it is useless to try and live like Noa did. He will forever be Zainichi, a foreigner in Japan, and he seems to accept the absurdity of this identity. Having been born in Japan, speaking Japanese natively, and having a deep knowledge of Japanese culture does not matter: he is not a citizen of this country, but neither does he identify with the two Korea’s. 

“He just got tired of trying to be a good Korean and quit. I was never a good Korean”

(p. 377)

Mozasu’s acceptance of this reality leads him to raise Solomon (his son) to have an international education which would eventually allow him to leave Japan for the United States. Nevertheless, all of Mozasu’s efforts still don’t protect his son from the fate of the Zainichi. Like his father, Solomon still needs to submit his fingerprints to acquire an alien registration card, and even after attending an Ivy League in the United States, he still faces discrimination at work because of his Korean identity: his colleagues believe that his father is a yakuza because of his Pachinko parlours. 

On the other hand, there’s a sheer contrast between his own identity and that of his Korean-American girlfriend, Phoebe. She struggles with her new life in Japan and generalises that all Japanese are evil because of their involvement in World War II and their treatment of Koreans. Solomon chooses a more nuanced approach, arguing that the Japanese have also suffered the consequences of war, and reminds Phoebe of the internment of Japanese-Americans. Nevertheless, Phoebe’s identity and nationality as an American stand in clear contrast to that of Mozasu’s and Solomon’s as Zainichi. Born in the USA, Phoebe experiences no hardship when it comes to citizenship, and her experience of growing up in a multicultural society allows her to recognize her ethnicity whilst still being encouraged and able to practise and celebrate her hybrid identity as Korean-American. Solomon, on the other hand, always had to grapple with the complications of a problematic and convoluted sense of identity. 

“In a way, Solomon was Japanese too, even if the Japanese didn’t think so... There was more to being something than just blood”

(p. 471).

In the end, Solomon’s inability to accept Phoebe’s marriage proposal for citizenship, accompanied by his ambivalence to naturalise Japanese (despite the practicality of both options) shows a character resisting confinement, conformity, and a fixed, singular identity - the first in the novel to do so. He seems to realise that he can decide his own identity for himself because historical circumstances have led to this opportunity. The third and next generations are too far away from the pain of colonisation, war, and postwar recovery. Because of the sacrifices of their ancestors, the present generation now has better chances in life and can afford to treat identity as a personal choice. Solomon seems to accept and embrace the nuance and complications that come from being Zainichi, rejecting the “horizontal comradeship” that a single national identity might bring. Unlike Noa (who dreamed of being Japanese) and Mozasu (who chose to conform to Korean stereotypes), Solomon finds comfort in the grey area he was born into. 

The Winning Combination and the Role of Pachinko:  

The game of Pachinko is one of the main motifs of this novel. The game involves both skill and luck, and a player’s chance of winning is also reduced if the machine has been tampered with (as we see Goro teach Mozasu when he first starts in the pachinko business). The game plays an important role in the fortunes of both Noa and Mozasu - with both brothers entering the business to make money. Even by the end of the novel, Solomon resigns himself to working in the pachinko business. Min Jin Lee shows the reader how pachinko was one of the few ways in which Koreans could make a wealthy living in Japan, but the business also comes with its own set of stereotypes and stigma attached to it. 

Due to pachinko falling under a morally grey area (it is considered a form of gambling, yet it is not illegal), the authors show us how the Japanese view of pachinko is not too dissimilar from the Japanese view of Koreans generally. The game is a huge business in Japan, and contributes greatly to the economy of the island - it does not fall under the interest of the government to ban it. Just like Koreans, who are never fully accepted and integrated into Japan as citizens; however, they contribute largely to the country. Additionally, pachinko can also be regarded as a representation of the lives of our main characters: it almost seems as if an invisible hand had tampered with their lives, with the pachinko machine of their birth giving them little hope of winning, yet they still play the game.

“His Presbyterian minister father had believed in a divine design, and Mozasu believed that life was like this game where the player could adjust the dials yet also expect the uncertainty of factors he couldn’t control. He understood why his customers wanted to play something that looked fixed but which also left room for randomness and hope”

(p. 292)

As detailed at the beginning of this essay, the novel opens with the following epigraph: “History has failed us, but no matter”. This tells the reader to leave all expectations of grandiosity and power at the door - this story is about ordinary people, those swept and forgotten by history. In this sense, the pachinko stands for how the lives of the characters we have followed so far are moved by historical forces beyond their control - they seem to depend entirely on chance. They, as players, have no real power because of how unpredictable the outcome is (and because, in all honesty, the game is rigged). 

However, they also represent a paradox: even if gambling entails the factor of chance, lack of control, and determinism - it also demonstrates free will in the player. No matter the randomness and the strength of the forces pulling us, the players keep on playing, believing that they will eventually reach a favourable outcome. The title - Pachinko - clearly refers to the overarching message of the story. Pachinko is a metaphor for the Zainichi existence. Their lives are like pinballs, being pushed and shoved by overpowering and uncontrollable forces into wooden sticks, with little choice as to their direction in life. Where they end up and what life will hit them with next - they have no choice but to wait and see. But there does exist ONE choice for Zainichi, and that is to keep on playing. Life is hard, and like Pachinko, you do not know if you will ever win (most likely you will keep on losing) but it is in the decision to keep playing - and persevere - that the Zainichi give meaning to their lives. 

Noa and Mozasu's lives, along with the ambiguity Solomon lives with, illustrate this. The novel shifts perspectives unseemingly, giving complexity to the lives of the characters and to the solutions and experiences they attempt. There is no single, overarching, correct way to experience being Zainichi because their lives are complicated by large, all-encompassing forces. Nevertheless, just like in a game of Pachinko, the characters in the novel keep playing and trying different combinations to resolve their issues of identity and belonging, to carve a better life in Japan and, ultimately, to win. 

Previous
Previous

A.I. Killed the Radio Star

Next
Next

[insert word]core, or the endless pursuit for the zeitgest of the times