In his preface to TOKYO TEMPOS, author Michael Pronko defines his book by way of a famous koan: “As the Zen Buddhists say, a finger pointing at the moon is not the moon. Words pointing at Tokyo are not Tokyo.” TOKYO TEMPOS is not a guidebook. Those looking for practical assistance in negotiating the city or top tourism tips will be best served elsewhere. Indeed, as a more-than-twenty-year resident of the city, Pronko isn’t set out to write something that would strictly be classed as a travel book. For the author, the city is home, and he sees the book as “more about how my heart and mind respond to Tokyo life as I wander, work, and live here every day.”

For readers familiar with Pronko’s excellent Detective Hiroshi series of Japanese-set crime thrillers, it will come as no surprise that the prose is beautifully weighted, a sense of place evoked, and telling details precisely set—not just the sights, but the sounds and the smells of the city. For instance, the following sentence is from a passage detailing the pottery procession of a complicated meal: “One by one, each dish touched down on the wood with a light thunk, like notes in a jazz solo, as the room filled with the aroma of steamed veggies and grilled fish.”

There is writing on architecture, culture, and nature. There is also much on food and eating, each essay focusing on one aspect of Tokyo living—on the differences and similarities with elsewhere. Occasionally a chance moment inspires memories of other places, as in the essay “Two Boys on a Train”—wherein Pronko finds himself transported from a Tokyo commuter train back to the sycamores and creeks of his boyhood Kansas and a coveted scrap of an old Playboy magazine: an experience he describes as “another train moment that made me feel connected to humanity and slightly repulsed and removed from it at the same time. It was a normal commute.”

Since the book is made from Pronko’s own impressions and memories of Tokyo as a city to be lived in, as opposed to visited, there are chapters that give insight into the Japanese way of life more precisely than any guidebook could. For example, the chapter “Tatami Change,” concerning the overdue replacement of the matting in the author’s home, reveals much about tradition and the value of craftsmanship. As he writes, “Tatami is more than a floor. It’s bedding, a chair, and a sofa but also expresses aesthetic and cultural values.” Overall, this makes for a thoroughly engaging collection of essays.

TOKYO TEMPOS is an enlightening and entertaining collection of essays, thanks to Micheal Pronko’s careful prose beautifully conjuring a sense of place and the occasional strangeness of ex-pat living.

~Kent Lane for IndieReader