Most Helpful Customer Reviews
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42 of 44 people found the following review helpful:
2.0 out of 5 stars
very shallow effort, January 6, 2007
Australian journalist Ben Hills might as well not have bothered. This is a disappointing second-rate effort at revealing Princess Masako, in fact, very little of anything is revealed. Very little about Harvard-trained Masako Owada, who married into the Japanese Imperial family, and absolutely nothing new about her life as Princess Masako is revealed here. Of course, little enough might have been expected since it's no accident that less is known about the secluded lives of the Japanese imperial family than about any other royal house in history - the iron control of the Kunaicho, the ancient apparatus of functionaries that controls every detail of imperial life, has for 2500 years successfully seen to the absolute secrecy of the dynasty's every move and motivation. Included is way too much uninteresting detail about Masako's businessman father, his typical absentee style of fatherhood and the acquisition of his wealth and position in Japanese society. I can commend the author for his choice of subject - I'd be interested to really learn something of Masako's royal life, but not likely to happen given the petrified nature of the Japanese imperial court and the impenetrable control of the Kunaicho. Two sections of worthwhile photos are included, and a few historical facts about the imperial family. Worse, a completely useless chapter called 'The Last Emperor' details statistically the ruin of royal houses during the 20th century. Boring. Beautiful cover formal photograph of Princess Masako. The book is naturally attractive, attractiveness unrequited once you open its pages. If you know nothing of the Japanese imperial family, you might find the book somewhat useful. Skip it if you're looking for fresh information not already available from other sources.
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12 of 12 people found the following review helpful:
4.0 out of 5 stars
The story of a wasted life, January 25, 2008
Think of the word princess, and more often than not there's the image of a lovely young woman, dressed in a long flowing gown, usually with a pretty little crown or tiara on her head, and a smitten prince at her side. Rarely this romantic view ever goes on to reveal what happens when the celebrations are over and the reality of life settles in.
While the monarchies of the western world have managed somewhat to balance the public's curiosity about royal life and the royal's own need for privacy, there is one monarchy that has remained firmly shuttered to prying eyes. This is the last Imperial house in the world, that of the Japanese. Australian journalist Ben Hills takes a look at one of the more tragic stories of royalty gone awry, and tells it with equal measures of compassion and anger.
Princess Masako: Prisoner of the Chrysanthemum Throne tells the unusual story of a young woman, Masako Owada, the daughter of a diplomat who grew up in various cities around the world, and seemed to be heading for an outstanding career of her own. She had been educated at Harvard, spoke more than six languages and was a pretty, rather popular girl who was intent to be the very best. While she was certainly very different than the typical Japanese woman, no one suspected that her life would take a very dramatic turn.
That would occur in 1993, when after a rather stilted courtship following a chance meeting, Crown Prince Naruhito was finally accepted by Masako and she married him in a tradition laiden ceremony in Tokyo. And suddenly, Masako found her life surrounded by protocol, religious duties and the overwhelming pressure to have a child -- specifically, a male child, something that hadn't happened in the Japanese Imperial family for more than forty years.
Ben Hills delves rather far into the mystery surrounding this family, at least as far as a Western journalist can dig, given the interference that the Kunaicho, the Imperial Household Agency, a bureaucracy that controls every aspect of daily life for the Japanese royal family. Hills refers to these shadowy bureaucrats as The Men in Black, a rather sinister connotation. And as we see in the story, the pressure to conform, and not to sully the image that the Kunaicho want to project, is pretty potent.
The ultimate tragedy of the story is Masako herself. It's sad to watch this vital young woman being crushed by a system that simply does not care about her, except as her role as royal broodmare and a pretty picture to wave in front of the masses. We watch her struggle to concieve a child -- and after nearly nine years of disappointment, and possibly through the use of In-Vitro Fertilization, finally gives birth to a daughter, Aiko. There is the pressure to remain silent and self-effacing, and the toll that takes on Masako's health. While rumours persist that she may be in the grip of major depression, and Hills presents convincing evidence that she is, nothing can be really certain if she is or not.
Which gets right down to the criticism of this book. The Japanese publishers suddenly pulled out of various publication deals for a translation once it was announced that the Kunaicho did not approve of it, and censorship reared it's ugly little head. Hills has received death threats, and the response to the publication is detailed in the epilogue that is in the trade paperback edition. Indeed, anything that can be deemed detrimental to the Japanese government, morals, or the Imperial family is regularly censored, rewritten or whitewashed by those in power -- a situation that most Westerners won't, and don't, tolerate.
And regularly Hills makes backhanded swipes at his subject. His description of the Japanese ceremonial and dress verges on the Oh, isn't that cute!, and at times his narrative goes as far as mockery. That's something that I tend to deplore in writing of any kind, showing a snobbish attitude that is downright rude. Too, he litters the story with Australian slang, which is unfamiliar to most American readers, and while there is some sympathy for Masako, there isn't much left over for anyone else caught up in the drama.
Besides the story itself, there are two inserts of photos, one in black and white, the other in colour; as well as a genealogy chart, a map, a list of resources, a glossary of Japanese terms, and an index.
While I was certainly very interested in this story, it comes across more as a gossipy expose rather than a serious study of Japanese court life. So much is left out that all that remains is a damning screed against a culture that seems to be firmly fixed in medieval traditions, liberally laced with restrictions and corruption. It's interesting, but surely, there must be something better than this out there on this topic.
Three and a half stars, rounded up to four. Somewhat recommended, but only to those interested in modern Japanese life and celebrity.
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24 of 28 people found the following review helpful:
3.0 out of 5 stars
Speculative Biography Focuses on the Fragility of a Princess' Mental State Under Scrutiny, February 8, 2007
Even though Britain's royals get all the press, dysfunctional families are not solely in their domain. Witness the foreboding situation in Japan where the Imperial Household Law of 1947 dictates that only a male heir can ascend to the Chrysanthemum Throne, and then imagine the scrutiny under which the Crown Princess Masako has had to live until she was able to conceive a child. Australian journalist Ben Hills makes an interesting though ultimately superficial attempt at depicting the damaging impact that public pressure has had on the princess since she married the Crown Prince Naruhito in 1993. It is Hills' lack of direct access to the inner workings of the palace that diminishes his book into a lot of arm's-length speculation on what is perceived as the princess' fragile state of mind.
What the author does well is paint a vivid picture of the restrictive requirements of being a royal in Japan. So much of the story sounds eerily similar to Diana's story since both were their father's daughters who represented an attractive combination of contemporary and traditional traits that made them viable candidates for not only a publicly endorsed marriage but also immediate motherhood given the aging bachelors that their husbands-to-be were. While Diana delivered two boys in relatively short order, Masako was unable to conceive a child until she was 37, nine years into her marriage and only after an intensive series of in-vitro fertilization treatments. However, she disappointed the Japanese by having a girl, Princess Aiko. Five years later, she faced further humiliation by seeing her younger sister-in-law Princess Kiko gave birth to a son, Hisahito, thus making questions about Aiko's ascendancy to the exalted position of Crown Empress moot.
All the while, according to Hills, Masako was silently suffering for her decision to forego her career aspirations as a diplomat. Unlike Diana, who was just twenty when she married, Masako was nearly thirty, extremely well-educated with degrees from Harvard and Oxford, fluent in five languages, and had already worked at the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs and regularly met world leaders. Consequently, her personal sacrifices had greater depth. The post-partum contrast is even more stark. While Diana became a glamorous worldwide celebrity, Masako has apparently been sinking further into depression, shunning public events with no hope of changing a life based on a purely ceremonial role independent of governmental decisions. Moreover, the rigors of keeping step with the 1,000-person Imperial Household Agency must be taking its toll. But Hills can merely speculate with his unauthorized biography, even though he does bring up valid questions on the relevance of royalty in a world where identities are molded by personal accomplishments.
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