{"id":1265,"date":"2022-05-08T15:00:21","date_gmt":"2022-05-08T06:00:21","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/?p=1265"},"modified":"2022-05-08T16:11:55","modified_gmt":"2022-05-08T07:11:55","slug":"historical-consciousness-and-boomerang-thoughts-in-the-works-of-haruki-murakami","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/essays-en\/1265","title":{"rendered":"Historical Consciousness and \u201cBoomerang\u201d Thoughts in the Works of Haruki Murakami"},"content":{"rendered":"

The Waseda International House of Literature had planned to host a conversation between Professor Sh\u014dz\u014d Fujii (who contributed the previous essay in this series) and the writer\/journalist Tetsuro Koyama in January. They were to speak on the theme \u201cHaruki Murakami, Cats, Mice, and Lu Xun.\u201d Unfortunately, the sixth wave of COVID struck and we were forced to postpone the event just one week before it was to be held. Fortunately, Mr. Koyama agreed to supply the February, 2022 instalment of Encountering the Literature of Haruki Murakami<\/em>.
\nMr. Koyama is well known as a literary journalist that has had the opportunity to interview Haruki Murakami repeatedly since 1995. When I was a graduate student, I had the pleasure of reading his book, Reading the Complete Haruki Murakami<\/em>. As a reading process that was not overly concerned with plot, the book in fact cut right to the heart of what these works were about, always offering a unique analytical perspective on Murakami\u2019s texts. It was positively illuminating. \u201cIt was the age, that time of life when every sight, every feeling, every thought came back, like a boomerang, to me.\u201d (Jay Rubin, trans.; from Norwegian Wood<\/em> [New York: Vintage International, 2000]) These words are from Norwegian Wood<\/em>, but Mr. Koyama concludes that one of the distinctive features of Murakami\u2019s literature is a \u201cboomerang-esque thought.\u201d What does this mean, exactly? Let\u2019s dive into this month\u2019s essay and find out!
\nP.S. We are hoping to host Mr. Koyama and Professor Fujii\u2019s postponed conversation on some fine Summer day.<\/p>\n

Quan Hui (Editorial Director, Waseda International House of Literature)<\/p>\n

Historical Consciousness and \u201cBoomerang\u201d Thoughts in the Works of Haruki Murakami<\/strong>
\nTetsuro Koyama<\/strong><\/h2>\n

Since my student days I have always read whatever received the Gunzo Prize for New Writers each year, and this habit continued even after I started working as a journalist for a news agency. I read Hear the Wind Sing<\/em> in the pages of Gunzo<\/em>, and I ended up reading Pinball, 1973<\/em> there, too.
\n\u201cThese novels are like a woodblock print,\u201d I remember thinking. In an oil painting, the figures usually emerge where the brush touches the canvas, but when an artist makes a woodblock print, the figures emerge from what is left uncarved. The most important parts are the parts left as negative space\u2014 this was the feeling I had while reading these novels. As I followed the characters \u201cI\u201d and \u201cRat\u201d as they spent the summer drinking beer in the pages of Hear the Wind Sing,<\/em> I found myself, like most readers, also thinking, \u201cI\u2019d really like to have a beer right now, too!\u201d By the time A Wild Sheep Chase<\/em> came out, though, I had become a police reporter in the city news section handling stories coming out of the Shinjuku Police Station, so I did not have the chance to read it while it was serialized, waiting instead until it came out in hardcover.
\nBut to tell the truth, my first real encounter with Haruki Murakami\u2014that is, the point when my appreciation of his work truly started to deepen\u2014only occurred once I began interviewing him regularly as part of my job.
\nIn the spring of 1984, I shifted from the city news section and the police beat to work as a writer on literature in the cultural news section in a move that gave me the chance to meet any author who interested me whenever they had something new coming out. In June 1985, Murakami\u2019s Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World<\/em> was published as part of Shincho\u2019s line of \u201cSpecially Commissioned New Works.\u201d I rushed to land an interview with him, and this became my first direct encounter with Haruki Murakami.
\nThe cover has changed now, but at the time, the novel was packaged in a box and bound in pink cloth, and I remember how it felt a little heavy in my hands as I read it on the train to prepare for the interview. I also remember looking around the train and, seeing many others holding the same hefty all-pink book, thinking, \u201cThis Haruki Murakami fellow\u2019s getting pretty popular, isn\u2019t he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2606<\/p>\n

Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World<\/em> tells two intertwined stories simultaneously. One is the claustrophobic story of The End of the World, in which a first-person narrating \u201cI\u201d (Boku) live in a Town encircled by a Wall with \u201cno exit;\u201d while the other is the story of another first-person \u201cI\u201d (Watashi) inhabiting an expansive story taking place in the Hard-Boiled Wonderland.
\nThe people in The End of the World are separated from their shadows as they pass through the gate into the Town, leaving them with the Gatekeeper. In other words, they are able to live a peaceful life in exchange for leaving their \u201cheart\u201d to be managed by the Town itself.
\nBut there are those unable to give up their \u201cheart\u201d this way, and these people end up banished to the Woods located within the Town. Will Boku and his shadow escape the Town together, or will they end up separated in the end? These are the kinds of thoughts the novel provokes until, in the final pages, Boku\u2019s shadow escapes the Town while Boku chooses to stay, plunging himself into the chaos of life in the Woods.
\nThe negative space of a Walled Town; the even more negative space of exile in the Woods within the Town\u2019s Wall. Boku enters the doubly negative space of the Woods, but this is an ending that refuses to smooth everything out for the reader. At the end of the write-up of my interview with him, I wrote, \u201cMurakami, with this double refusal of self, seems to be searching for an interior source of power to sustain human existence.\u201d The novel made me feel the sheer power of refusal.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2606<\/p>\n

Haruki Murakami ended up winning the Tanizaki Prize (Tanizaki Jun\u2019ichir\u014d Sh\u014d) that year for Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World,<\/em> and so I had the chance to interview him about it again.
\nOnce again, the conversation turned to the final scene between Boku and his shadow. Murakami said that he thought quite a lot about how he should write this ending scene. Logically, the other three possible outcomes would be 1) Boku and his shadow escape together, 2) his shadow stays behind while Boku escapes, or 3) both Boku and his shadow remain in the Town. As I listened to Murakami talk about all the different ways he\u2019d thought about ending the novel, though, I began to appreciate the struggle he had gone through writing this novel.
\nMurakami went on to say, \u201cI was very happy when I won the Gunzo Prize, but I also felt frustrated that that was all I seemed able to write. I\u2019d reached the point where, after swimming around in the water, my hand touched the shore, I\u2019d lifted my torso out, and I was about to set foot on dry land. By the time I turn 40, I want to be standing and walking on land with my own two feet.\u201d
\nI was impressed by this man who, despite having won a major literary award, pushed himself to achieve his next goal. He talked about wanting to write a \u201clittle novel\u201d of 150 to200 pages as his follow-up. At the time, he was telling me that he was about to leave his 11-year-old Siamese cat with a friend and go with his wife to live for a time in Greece. The novel he wrote while living there and in Rome was Norwegian Wood.<\/em> He was 38 when he finished it. I interviewed him before the release of this novel as well, but it was before it had acquired its famous packaging. He told me, \u201cI\u2019d wanted to just get this out before writing the follow-up to \u2018Wonderland,\u2019<\/em> but before I knew it, I\u2019d written 500 pages.\u201d
\nAfter the interview, I received a copy of the two-volume hardcover as I was preparing the article for publication; I was slightly shocked at how it looked, and it made me think. The first book I\u2019d interviewed him about\u2014Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World\u2014<\/em>had been bound in pink, and now here was his next novel, Norwegian Wood,<\/em> covered in red and green. Why these colors? And this time, I knew that Murakami himself had designed the packaging. These covers expressed the author\u2019s attitude toward his own creation.<\/p>\n

\u2606<\/p>\n

Norwegian Wood<\/em> tells the story of a woman, Naoko, who becomes lost in her own closed world, suffering from mental illness until she ends up taking her own life deep in the woods. It also tells of another woman, Midori, who is as open as Naoko is closed, described as \u201clike a small animal that has popped into the world with the coming of spring.\u201d 1<\/sup>The novel follows the narrator as he navigates his love life between these two women.
\nThe Gothic black-and-white script \u2014changed to Italics in the English version\u2014is used only in the line, \u201cDeath exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life,\u201d and it seemed to me that the dust jacket design reflects this sentiment. The jacket of the first volume is a plain field of pure red, with only the names of the author and novel itself spelled out in green. The red is like blood, a symbol of life. And green is the color of the woods where Naoko takes her own life, thus symbolizing death. In other words, \u201cDeath [green] exists, not as the opposite but as a part of life [red]\u201d\u2014the words in the novel are transformed into the design of the book itself.
\nIn this way, the world of life and the world of death are never far apart in Murakami\u2019s work. I thought this was expressed quite clearly in its design, and so I ended up writing about that in the article where the interview appeared.
\nThe novel contains more than just Naoko\u2019s death in the woods. Midori, as active and full of life as she is, has a mother who died from a brain tumor, and her father is dying of the same thing. Even the most vivacious among us live cheek by jowl with the dead. It is in its portrayal of every character in the book existing in a world of life that is never far from a neighboring world of death that it becomes a true Murakami work, in my estimation.
\nMurakami said of Norwegian Wood,<\/em> \u201cThis time, I really felt like I\u2019d made it on land that I\u2019d begun to take my first steps on my own two feet.\u201d This was a follow-up to the remarks he had made two years previous, in the interview about Hard-Boiled Wonderland.<\/em> This interview took place before Norwegian Wood<\/em> became a bestseller, of course, so this was his confidence as a writer who expressed his awareness that he had just finished a well-written story. I was impressed by his writerly self-assuredness.
\n\u201cNext, I\u2019d like to write a full-length novel back in my original line,\u201d he said, and then went off on a trip to Rome. I assumed, with the phase \u201cback in my original line,\u201d he meant he would intend to be back in line with Hear the Wind Sing, Pinball, 1973<\/em> and A Wild Sheep Chase.<\/em> The novel that resulted was Dance Dance Dance,<\/em> which came out in 1988, a year after the release of Norwegian Wood.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u2606<\/p>\n

This was the start of a long series of interviews with Murakami over the years, and I would like to take this opportunity to make a few observations based on this experience about what I think of as the \u201cspecial characteristics of Haruki Murakami\u2019s work.\u201d The first is a \u201cboomerang\u201d consciousness.
\nAt the beginning of Norwegian Wood,<\/em> the narrator thinks back to when he took a walk one day with Naoko 18 years previous. As he puts it, \u201cI was thinking about myself. I was thinking about the beautiful girl walking next to me. I was thinking about the two of us together, and then about myself again. It was the age, that time of life when every sight, every feeling, every thought came back, like a boomerang, to me.\u201d2<\/sup>In Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World,<\/em> there is a passage that states, \u201cBut like a boat with a twisted rudder, I kept coming back to the same place. I wasn’t going anywhere. I was myself, waiting on the shore for me to return.\u201d 3<\/sup>I interviewed Murakami for Dance Dance Dance<\/em> as well, and that novel contains the passage, \u201cEverything is\u2026 tied into that massive\u2026 web, and beyond this web there’s another web. Nobody’s going anywhere. You throw a rock and it\u2019ll come right back at you.\u201d4<\/sup>
\nThese passages are all saying the same thing. All of Murakami\u2019s protagonists think about the problems of others as if they were their own problems, and at the same time also problems of worldwide proportions. \u201cOver there\u201d is tied inextricably to \u201cover here,\u201d and nothing can ever be truly solved without attacking both sides simultaneously. I believe that Haruki Murakami is an author who has thought more deeply about this sort of issue than any other on the scene today.
\nI believe that the prevalence of novels with double narratives in his oeuvre, from Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World<\/em> and Norwegian Wood<\/em> to the more recent Kafka on the Shore<\/em> and 1Q84,<\/em> reflects this preoccupation in his thought.<\/a><\/p>\n

\u2606<\/p>\n

Kafka on the Shore,<\/em> published in 2002, is a work conceived as a continuation of Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World.<\/em> It, too, tells the story of a first-person Boku and a character attached to him like a \u201cshadow\u201d\u2014the \u201cboy named Crow.\u201d This time, though, the two characters do not end up separated, but rather escape together from the other world. I read the novel as a continuation of this thinking about Boku and his shadow, broadening and deepening the meaning of the worlds of both works.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

Photo was taken at Totsukawa village, Nara prefecture in April, 2002. He had read all of Murakami’s works from 1999 to 2002 when\u00a0he worked at Osaka away from his family.<\/p>\n

\u2606<\/p>\n

I asked Murakami about Kafka on the Shore<\/em> during a long interview conducted in 2003 (I was a co-interviewer with the critic Yutaka Yukawa). At that time, Murakami said, \u201c\u2018Evil\u2019 is something I\u2019ve thought about all along. For a novel to gain depth and breadth, for some reason I\u2019ve always thought that there needed to be \u2018evil\u2019 in it. So I\u2019ve thought about how best to portray \u2018evil.\u2019 I remember beginning to think about this explicitly around the time of Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World.<\/em> From then on, \u2018evil\u2019 was never far from my thoughts.\u201d
\nAfter Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World,<\/em> characters like the protagonist\u2019s dorm-mate Nagasawa in Norwegian Wood<\/em> or the former junior high school classmate-turned-actor Gotanda in Dance Dance Dance<\/em> begin to appear. Both characters have charming qualities but are nonetheless suffused with \u201cevil.\u201d In Dance Dance Dance,<\/em> it is also written that \u201cGotanda and I were of the same species,\u201d implying that these \u201cevil\u201d characters are nothing other than parts of the narrating Boku himself.
\nIn the end, then, even evil is an issue that returns\u2014it comes back, \u201clike a boomerang, to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u2606<\/p>\n

In The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle,<\/em> there is a character named Noboru Wataya who embodies the way of thinking that led Japan into World War II. The first-person\u00a0 narrator\u2014Boku again\u2014fights Noboru Wataya in a dark hotel room, Room 208, which ends with Boku making a perfect swing with a baseball bat that hits Noboru right in the head and neck, felling him.
\nBut Noboru Wataya is the brother of Boku\u2019s wife. There are readers who say,no matter how bad a guy might be, there has to be some other way to deal with it than hitting your brother-in-law with a baseball bat!<\/em>
\nBut there are clues that this, too, is a war between \u201cparts\u201d of the same self. The proper name of the narrating Boku of Norwegian Wood<\/em> is Toru Watanabe, while the Boku of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle<\/em> is Toru Okada. The man Toru Okada hits with the baseball bat is Noboru Wataya\u2014a string of similar-sounding names that encourages us to see them as characters linked in some way.
\nIn other words, the fight between Boku and Noboru Wataya in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle<\/em> seems to me to be a fight between the protagonist and a piece of himself that lurks in the dark recesses of his heart.
\nLike a boomerang, a part of the self that is inclined toward war returns, emerging as a part of the self to be battled within the self and defeated once and for all\u2014this is how I see Murakami writing the problem. Here, too, I sense the deep power of refusal<\/em> in his work.<\/p>\n

\u2606<\/p>\n

A second characteristic of Murakami\u2019s works is a strong historical consciousness. The scene of the battle in The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle<\/em> is Room 208, and the scene appears in the third volume of the novel alongside the wartime \u201cAugust 1945\u201d incident in Xinjing (Changchun), Manchuria. August 1945 is otherwise known as Showa 20, Month 8 under the Japanese calendar system. Room 208 is a battlefield obviously connected to Japan\u2019s defeat in the war.
\nMurakami has displayed a preoccupation with the August 15, 1945, surrender of Japan in World War II since his debut novel, Hear the Wind Sing.<\/em> He is an author who has always written modern Japan\u2019s experience of war. I read Hear the Wind Sing<\/em> as a work written while thinking about the first week following the end of the war. In this work, Boku says that the girl with no little finger that he meets at J\u2019s Bar takes a week-long trip sometime around August 15, during which time she has an abortion. The Rat, Boku\u2019s friend and alter ego, also experiences a week of feeling terrible around that same date, August 15. After the Rat recovers, Boku invites him to a hotel pool, where the two discuss the American war planes they used to see, or how the town used to fill with sailors and MPs when a Navy cruiser arrived in port. That is, they discussed the landscape of the immediate postwar period in Japan.
\nPinball, 1973,<\/em> his sophomore novel, features the twins 208 and 209, bringing to mind Showa 20, Month 8 (August 1945) and Showa 20, Month 9 (September 1945), prompting the thought that it is a work written while thinking about the first month<\/em> following the war\u2019s end.
\nIn other words, from his debut in 1979 with Hear the Wind Sing<\/em> \u00a0to the nonfiction work Abandoning a Cat: What I Talk about When I Talk about My Father,<\/em> which was serialized in the June 2019 issue of Bungei Shunju5\u00a0<\/sup>and traces his roots through the story of his father\u2019s experience as a soldier in China, Murakami\u2019s writing has persistently displayed a strong historical consciousness. Murakami\u2019s 2017 novel Killing Commendatore<\/em> depicts the battle for Nanking in the Second Sino-Japanese War and the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany, of course, but in my opinion the first story in his 2020<\/span> short story collection First Person Singular,<\/em> \u201cOn a Stone Pillow,\u201d exudes a similarly strong historical consciousness, in my opinion.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2606<\/p>\n

\"\"

The January 1990 issue of \u201cIn Pursuit of Literati\u201d<\/p><\/div>\n

I wrote a serialized column called \u201cIn Pursuit of Literati\u201d between January 1990 and May 1994 in the literary magazine Bungakukai<\/em>. The first article dealt with Murakami. Murakami\u2019s novel A Wild Sheep Chase<\/em> had just been translated by Alfred Birnbaum and published in the United States in October 1989. This was Murakami\u2019s English-language debut. Murakami arrived in the U.S. to participate in an author\u2019s tour in support of the translation just as reviews and interviews were being published in The New York Times, The Washington Post, The Wall Street Journal<\/em>, and famous magazines such as Elle<\/em>. My column opened with a Murakami interview I conducted just after he returned from this trip.
\nMurakami\u2019s works had already appeared in translation in the Chinese-language world; Lai Ming-chu had translated Murakami in Taiwan in 1985, for example. But it was after A Wild Sheep Chase <\/em>was published that Murakami\u2019s works found readers in Europe and North America, and eventually across the globe. Perhaps I can\u2019t speak for all of those global readers, but it seems to me that there are many people who read Murakami\u2019s writing not as a series of discrete, individual pieces, but rather as a body of work that overlaps with their own experience as they read one after the other. This surely happens with other writers, too, but Murakami may be the writer who has more such readers than any other.
\nThe same way a woodblock print is made, readers paint the wooden block of a Murakami novel with ink, place paper on it, press the pad down on it, use the weight of their body to rub the paper over every inch of the block, and then carefully peel the paper back up to see the resulting design\u2014this is how a Murakami piece emerges for a reader.
\nHaruki Murakami is the rare writer who refuses to analyze his own work. He leaves readers free to read his writing however they wish. Even so, I feel that Murakami\u2019s works leave their imprints on the reader like the inverted images of the uncarved woodblock. And I am always ready with my paper and my ink and my pressing pad, looking forward to seeing what will emerge from the next woodblock he presents me with in the form of his next piece of writing.<\/p>\n

……………………………
\n1<\/sup> English passages taken from Norwegian Wood, Jay Rubin, trans., (New York, Vintage International, 2000)
\n2<\/sup> Norwegian Wood, Jay Rubin, trans., (New York: Vintage International, 2000).
\n3<\/sup> Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, Alfred Birnbaum, trans.., (New York: Vintage International, 1993).
\n4<\/sup> Dance, Dance, Dance, Alfred Birnbaum, trans., (New York: Vintage International, 1995).
\n5<\/sup> Published in hardcover in 2020 as Abandoning a Cat: When I Talk about My Father.<\/h5>\n

(Translated by One Transliteracy, LLC)<\/p>\n

April 30, 2022<\/p>\n

\n

\"\"
\nProfile<\/strong><\/p>\n

Tetsuro Koyama was born in Gunma Prefecture in 1949. He graduated from the Department of Economics at Hitotsubashi University. He is a Senior Feature Writer and Editorial Writer at Kyodo News. He has covered Haruki Murakami\u2019s works since 1985, interviewing Murakami 10 times. One of these interviews appears in Murakami\u2019s interview anthology, I Wake Every Morning in Order to Dream.<\/em>Selected works include: Learning Kanji with Shizuka Shirakawa is Fun<\/em> and Learning Kanji with Shizuka Shirakawa is Terrifying<\/em> (Kyodo Tsushinsha and Shincho bunko); Reading the Complete Haruki Murakami<\/em> (Kodansha gendai shinsho); An Afternoon Reading Haruki Murakami<\/em> (Bungei Shunju, with Yutaka Yukawa); And Just Then There Was Literature: In Pursuit of Authors, Complete Edition<\/em> andLearning Real Japanese with Shizuka Shirakawa<\/em> (Ronsosha); An Introduction to Shizuka Shirakawa: Real, Crazy, Fun<\/em> (Heibonsha shinsho); Living Tragedy: Disasters and Literature in Japan<\/em> and Literature is Delicious<\/em> (Sakuhinsha); Haruki Murakami\u2019s Animals<\/em>(Waseda shinsho); Haruki Murakami Chronicles<\/em> (Shunyodo shoten ). He was awarded the 2013 Japan National Press Club Award for his work on Murakami, books that pushed the boundaries of what literary journalism could be.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

One TransLiteracy, LLC, is a boutique translation and cultural consultation agency founded by Miyabi \u201cAbbie\u201d Yamamoto, Ph.D. We are a team of highly educated native or native-level bilingual and bicultural experts who provide meticulous translations with linguistic acuity, hone texts for precision and elegance, and provide concise explanations of cross-cultural exchange. The founder, Abbie, grew up in Tsukuba, Japan and received her Ph.D. in Japanese and Korean literatures at the University of California, Berkeley. She is passionate about promoting cross-cultural exchange and everyday practices of intentional inclusion.<\/p>\n

\uff0aThis article was made possible through the support of the Waseda International House of Literature and Top Global University Project in collaboration with Waseda University’s Global Japanese Studies.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Mr. Koyama is well known as a literary journalist that has had the opportunity to interview Haruki Murakami repeatedly since 1995. When I was a graduate student, I had the pleasure of reading his book, Reading the Complete Haruki Murakami. As a reading process that was not overly concerned with plot, the book in fact cut right to the heart of what these works were about, always offering a unique analytical perspective on Murakami\u2019s texts. It was positively illuminating. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":1227,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[104],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1265","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-essays-en","ja"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1265","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1265"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1265\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1308,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1265\/revisions\/1308"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1227"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1265"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1265"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1265"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}