¹ I would like to thank the Social Science and Humanities Research Council (SSHRC) for its generous support in providing funding for this project.

² Miyazaki also wrote many stories for children under the penname Shirane Ryobu.

³ Miyazaki Ichiu, “Nichibei miraisen,” Shonen kurabu, November 1922, 67. Hereafter referred to as Nichibei.

⁴ Although I focus principally on Miyazaki in this piece, he was actually one of many writers of children's future war. To date, I have uncovered more than 30 future war stories written between 1915 and 1937, almost all of which were written for children. Other writers of this genre include Abu Tenpu, Yoshikawa Eiji, Hirata Shinsaku, Yamanaka Minetaro, Nanyo Ichiro, and Unno Juzo.

⁵ This phrase comes from the title of I. F. Clarke's collection of Euro-American future war stories. The Tale of the Next Great War, 1871-1914, Syracuse University Press, 1995.

⁶ The best discussion of this subject is I.F. Clarke, Voices Prophesying War: Future Wars, 1763-3749, Oxford University Press, 1992. For a more American focus on the same subject, see H. Bruce Franklin, War Stars: The Superweapon and the American Imagination, Oxford University Press, 1988.

⁷ T. J. Jackson Lears, No Place of Grace: Antimodernism and the Transformation of American Culture, University of Chicago Press, (1983), 1994, 98-102.

⁸ Any use of the term media must always refer to a plurality of agents, whose reciprocal interactions with the public and with each other is complex, contested, and competitive. The media can never be usefully understood as a monolithic entity. This is especially true during the formative period of its development, as with the print media in Japan's Meiji era.

⁹ Hu Shih, “Tz’u-yu te wen t’i,” Hu Shih wen-ts’un, p. 739, cited in Ping-chen Hsiung, A Tender Voyage: Children and Childhood in Late Imperial China, Stanford University Press, 2005, xiv. Hu Shih said that any society could be understood by the way its people treat their children and their women, and how they spend their leisure time.

¹⁰ Despite much public discussion of citizenship during this period, the Japanese people under the Meiji Constitution were subjects not citizens. Citizenship only emerged as a result of popular sovereignty finally being enshrined in the people under the postwar constitution.

¹¹ This three-fold division comes from Edward Beauchamp, Education and Ideology in Modern Japan, 1868 - Present,” Asian Thought and Society, 16:48 (1991), 18998. It is useful to distinguish between these three forms of socialization as long as we recognize that all three stem from a similar set of impulses.

¹² Exceptions in Japan are Torigoe Shin, Hasegawa Ushio, and Ueda Nobumichi. Here, I want to offer my deep appreciation to Hasegawa-sensei and Ueda-sensei for their generosity in providing me with materials and in taking time to discuss their research when I was in Japan in summer 2006. One general trend I have noticed in Japanese scholarship, Torigoe and Ueda included, is the tendency to evaluate children's literature as literature rather than as political and social commentaries. This is partly due to the fact that most scholars in this field were trained as literary critics rather than as historians or social scientists.

¹³ The relationship between formal education and print media during these years is a fascinating and complex subject in its own right, but one to which I cannot do justice here. However, there are three areas of convergence between the two that are central to my story. The first is that education and media were both products of the same processes of mass production and consumption. The second is the important role played by education in creating a readership for all print media through rising literacy rates. The third is the remarkable continuity between both institutions in terms of their focus on war, patriotism, and the need for building a martial, manly society. Future war fiction, however, seems to have been exclusive to print media. The intersection of formal education and print media was best exemplified in the person of Kodansha founder Noma Seiji (1878-1938). In a 1938 eulogy to Noma, Tokutomi Soho referred to him as Japan's “private Minister of Education.” Tokutomi Soho, “Noma shacho tsuitoroku” (A Memorial to President Noma), Kingu, December 12, 1938, 17, cited in Sato Takumi, ‘Kingu’ no jidai: Kokumin taishu zasshi no kokyosei (The Age of ‘King’: The Public Nature of National Popular Magazines), Iwanami Shoten, 2002, viii.

¹⁴ Thus far in my research, I have focused primarily on boy's magazine where the martial, manly ethos was understandably most prominent. However, historical and contemporary stories focusing on war and foreign perfidy were also prominent in girl's magazines. In fact, many writers, Miyazaki included, regularly wrote for both types of publications, while publishers like Hakubunkan and Kodansha actively encouraged girls to read boy's magazines. To this point, I have looked at both sides of gender construction only in the context of the Pacific War itself. See, for example, my “Japanese Children and the Culture of Death, January 1945-January 1946,” in James Martens, ed., Children and War: A Historical Anthology, New York University Press, 2002, 160-71.

¹⁵ I am currently working on a quantitative assessment of national coverage of Shonen kurabu and Shojo kurabu based on the letters to the editor published monthly in both magazines. These letters, which came from every prefecture, may not necessarily reflect actual circulation patterns but they do provide insight into Kodansha's strategy of representing its magazines as truly national in scope.

¹⁶ These are the official figures from Kodansha Hachijunenshi Henshu Iinkai, Kuronikku Kodansha no hachijunen (Eighty Years of Kodansha), Kodansha, 1995, 116.

¹⁷ Kodansha, Shojo kurabu was printing 380,000 copies by 1925 and selling 188,710. Both magazines sold for 60 sen per copy. Ibid., 116.

¹⁸ The editors of Shonen kurabu actively encouraged this practice, regularly using its Tayori column to instruct young readers to pass on their magazines or to form reading clubs so they could enjoy the stories together.

¹⁹ Miyazaki Ichiu, Nichibei miraisen, Dainihon Yubenkai/Kodansha, 1923.

²⁰ Shojo kurabu, June 1923, ä,‰ã□®A. Shonen kurabu also carried ads in at least two of its issues for the upcoming book. Given that both magazines were published by Kodansha, it is not surprising that the tone and language of the advertisements was the same. Nonetheless, from a gender perspective, it is interesting to note that the same basic message was directed toward both boys and girls.

²¹ Ueda Nobumichi, “Miyazaki Ichiu no Jidobungaku (“The Children's Literature of Miyazaki Ichiu”) Kokusai Jidobungakkan kiyo, No. 8, March 31, 1993, 8. Available in full text online here, accessed May 14, 2006.

²² Miyazaki's death indeed remains a mystery, although I do hope to determine the conditions under which he died in future research. To date, I have found no record of his death or burial and, according to Ueda and Hasegawa, he appeared to have left no family. “Hot-blooded” was one of many genre names publishers like Kodansha used to distinguish different kinds of stories. Other labels included “adventure novel” (boken shosetsu), “patriotic novel” (aikoku shosetsu), “military novel” (guntai shosetsu), historical novel (rekishi shosetsu), and chivalric novel (kyoyu shosetsu). Until the publication of Sato Koroku's Kogan bidan (The Stirring Tale of a Fair Youth) in Shonen kurabu in March 1928, no other writer was ever published under the “hot-blooded” label. In the 1930s this mantle was passed to the likes of Hirata Gensaku, Yamanaka Minetaro, Unno Juzo, and Nanyo Ichiro. For a fascinating look at these war adventures in the 1930s, see Yamanaka Hisashi and Yamamoto Akira (eds.), Kachinuku bokura shokokumin: Shonen gunji aikoku shosetsu no sekai (We Children, the Winners: The World of Boy's Patriotic War Novels), Sekaishisosha, 1985. Curiously, the authors make no reference to Miyazaki and treat the “hot-blooded novel” as a product of the 1930s, which it clearly was not.

²³ The actual ratio of capital ships permitted under the treaty was as follows: United States 525,000 tons (533,400 metric tons); the British Empire 525,000 tons (533,400 metric tons); Japan 315,000 tons (320,040 metric tons); France 175,000 tons (177,800 metric tons); Italy 175,000 tons (177,800 metric tons). See Article IV of the General Provisions Relating To The Limitation Of Naval Armament, signed February 6, 1922. Taken from Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States: 1922, Vol. 1, pp. 247-266, available online here, accessed July 12, 2006.

²⁴ Of the eight, four were of the Nagato class (Nagato, Mutsu, Saga, and Tosa), two were of the Ise Class (Ise and Hyuga), and two were of the Fuso Class (Fuso and Yamashiro). Taken from Nichibei, January 1922, 49-50.

²⁵ Ibid., 48-49. Here, I want to thank Takahashi Kazuko for her valuable assistance in reading this story. Unless otherwise noted, however, all translations are mine.

²⁶ Ibid., 50.

²⁷ Miyazaki took great pains to highlight Japan's numerical and technological inferiority at the beginning of the story. Japan's coal-burning ships, for example, were not only slower than the US diesel-powered fleet but they could also be seen from a further distance because of the thick smoke coming from their stacks.

²⁸ Although Miyazaki did not use the phrase “encirclement,” he went into great detail to explain how the three American fleets could, at a moment's notice, literally cut off Japan's lifeline to the continent. Therein lay the injustice of the Washington Treaty. Here, we can of course find the roots of “ABCD encirclement” and the “defensive war” used by Japanese officials before and after the Pacific War.

²⁹ Admiral Nango was, of course, none other than Admiral Togo, Japan's great hero from the Russo-Japanese War. Miyazaki simply replaced “To” (East) with “Nan” (South).

³⁰ Nichibei, January 1922, 55.

³¹ Nanyo was the phrase given to the South Seas, which was the site of imagining empire for many Japanese. For more on the Nanyosee Mark Peattie, “The Nan’yo: Japan in the South Pacific, 1885-1945,” in Peattie and Ramon H. Myers (eds), The Japanese Colonial Empire, 1895-1945, Princeton University Press, 1984, 172-176 and Kenneth Pyle, The New Generation of Meiji Japan: Problems of Cultural Identity, 18851895, Stanford University Press, 1969, 158. Yap was a small south sea island Japan had gained control over in the post-Versailles treaties. Its importance lay in the fact that it was a crucial node in the Pacific undersea cable linking Asia with North America. For an American account of the time, see Charles Noble Gregory, “The Mandate Over Yap,” American Journal of International Law, 15:3 (July 1921), 419-427. For a Japanese perspective on the eve of the Manchurian Incident, see Keiichi Yamazaki, “The Japanese Mandate in the South Pacific,” Pacific Affairs, 4:2 (February 1931), 95-112.

³² Nichibei, February 1922, 79-80.

³³ Ibid., August 1922, 48-49.

³⁴ Ibid., November 1922, 67.

³⁵ The Unebi was a French-built cruiser commissioned by the Japanese navy in December 1886. Three months later it disappeared at sea with all hands lost en route from France to Japan. Miyazaki didn't tell his readers about the Unebi, mentioning only its name. In this, he followed a common practice of inserting actual historical events and actors into fictional stories. He stretched the fantastic here since any Unebi survivors would have been in their sixties by the time of his future war.

³⁶ Ibid., December 1922, 68.

³⁷ Ibid., 72.

³⁸ Ibid., 73.

³⁹ Ibid., 77.

⁴⁰ At this time, international treaties did not forbid submarine warfare except with regard to merchant vessels, the sinking of which was governed by the same rules as those covering surface naval warfare. The main treaty covering submarine warfare was “The Treaty Relating to the Use of Submarines and Noxious Gases in Warfare,” signed on February 6, 1922 as part of the Washington Conference negotiations. This treaty was never put in force, however, because France did not ratify it. The text of this treaty is available in full text here. Accessed July 21, 2007.

⁴¹ Ibid., February 1923, 87.

⁴² This phrase comes from Thucydides in his reconstruction of the dialogue between the Athenians and the Melians after the former had defeated the Melian's ally Lucaedamon, reprinted from here, accessed September 15, 2006.

⁴³ Nichibei, February 1923, 88. Oyashima comes from the Nihonshoki and refers to the original eight islands said to have been created by Izanagi and Izanami. Italics mine.

⁴⁴ The idea of Japan as embodying both bu and bun emerged from the Meiji era in the writings of Shiratori Kurakichi, particularly his concept of “North/South Dualism,” which sought to create a progressive picture of Japan's historical development as the best of bothbu and bun. For more on this, see Stefan Tanaka, Japan's Orient: Rendering Pasts into History, University of California Press, 1995, 94-104.

⁴⁵ Torigoe Shin and Nemoto Masagi make this point but without any supporting data in “Oshikawa Shunro to Tachikawa Bunko” Nihon jido bungakushi (A History of Japanese Children's Literature), Mineruba Shobo, 2003, 108.

⁴⁶ Yano Ryukei. Ukishiro Monogatari. (Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1940), quoted in Xavier Bensky, “Dynamite Don!”: Radical Students, Patriotic Youth, and Science Fiction Novels in the Meiji Era, A paper presented at the Association for Asian Studies Chicago, IL, 2005, 9. I would like to thank Xavier for providing me with a copy of his paper. Robert Matthew maintains that Ukishiro was the first Japanese science fiction story in Japanese Science Fiction: A View of a Changing Society, The Nissan Institute/Routledge Japanese Studies Series, 1989, 10-11.

⁴⁷ Quoted in Bensky, “Dynamite Don!,” 8.

⁴⁸ Ibid., 10.

⁴⁹ This account comes from Hasegawa Ushio, Jido sensoyomimono no kindai (Modern Children's Wartime Media), Nihon Jido Bungakushi Sosho, No. 21, Hissayamasha, 1999, 15-16.

⁵⁰ Hasegawa, Jido senso, 18-19.

⁵¹ This point is made by James L. Huffman, Creating a Public: People and Press in Meiji Japan, University of Hawai'i Press, 1997 and Jay Rubin, Injurious to Public Morals: Writers and the Meiji State, University of Washington Press, 1984.

⁵² There is some debate among Japanese scholars as to Iwaya's place as modern pioneer of children's fiction. Some reject this title, arguing that Iwaya was not so much modern pioneer as he was popularizer of older Edo literary traditions like kanzen choaku. From a historical perspective, however, Iwaya was both. He helped create a modern print media where none existed before, using Japan's rich literary and historical traditions as raw materials to construct stories for the children of a emerging modern nation. For a discussion of the Japanese debate about Iwaya, see Torigoe Shin, “Nihon kindai Jidobungaku kitten,” in Torigoe (ed.), Nihon Jidobungakushi, 1-12. Some have also identified Iwaya as part of vanguard of a new, rising middle class of social reformers, which included Tokutomi Soho, Inobe Inazo, Abe Isoo, and Hani Motoko. See for example, Mark Alan Jones, Children as Treasures: Childhood and the Middle Class in Early Twentieth Century Japan, unpublished Ph.D. manuscript, Columbia University, 2000. Social reformer he may have been but middle class he decidedly was not. Born in 1870 in Shiga Prefecture, Iwaya was the son of Iwaya Ichiroku (1834-1905), a Cabinet Secretary in the Meiji government and later a member of the House of Peers. As such, we must see Iwaya as a product of early Meiji upper class for whom hereditary privilege was de rigueur, and for whom the concept of progressive development of the Meiji state was unshakable.

⁵³ A tale of a dog who avenges the death of his father by a tiger with the help of another canine, Kogane maru reflected Iwaya's own literary heritage, particularly the centrality kanzen choaku and his membership in the Kenyusha (Friends of the Inkstone), an elite literary group centring around Ozaki Koyo (1867-1904) and counting as its members Izumi Kyoka, Takase Bunen, and Hirotsu Ryuro. The Kenyusha was the dominant literary group in Japan until Ozaki's untimely death in 1904, after which it was superceded by the rise of naturalist literature. Detailed discussions of the Kenyusha can be found in Fukuda Kiyoto, Kenyusha no Bungaku undo (The Kenyusha Literary Movement), Hakubunkan reprint series, 1985 and Ikari Akira, Kenyusha no bungaku (The Literature of Kenyusha), Kosensho, 1951.

⁵⁴ Koen dowa were stories told aloud. Iwaya drew on both indigenous and foreign traditions to construct his modern versions of these.

⁵⁵ The powerful Japanese attraction for German philosophy and political theory is a fascinating subject in its own right. While there is no space to discuss this here, readers should note that the attraction was not merely a matter of cultural borrowing for its own sake but reflected a deep Japanese predisposition for German ideas that was rooted in Japan's own cultural and philosophical traditions. In Iwaya's case, see Ueda Toshiro, Iwaya Sazanami to doitsu bungaku: Otogibanashi no minamoto (Iwaya Sazanami and German Literature: The Origins of the Fairy Tale) Dainihon Tosho, 1991.

⁵⁶ The impact of Noma and Kodansha on the development of children's print media comprises a separate chapter of my larger project. For more on Noma and Kodansha in Japanese, see Sato, Kingu’ no jidai and Noma's own autobiography Watashi no hansei(Half My Life), Kodansha, 1936, also republished as Shuppan kyojin sogyo monogatari: Sato Giryo, Noma Seiji, Iwanami Shigeo, (Founding Tales of the Great Publishers), Shoshi Shinsui, 2005. A hagiographical treatment in English is Shunkichi Akimoto, Seiji Noma, ‘Magazine King’ of Japan: A Sketch of his Life, Character, and Enterprises, Dai Nippon Yubenkai/Kodansha, 1927. Early postwar assessments of Noma as the founder of prewar mass culture and Shonen kurabu's role in this process can be found in Kagawa Tomiko, “Noma Seiji to Kodansha bunka: masu karucha no soshisha” (Noma Seiji and Kodansha Culture: The Founder of Mass Culture), Shiso no kagaku (October 1959), 19-31 and Sato Tadao, “Shonen no rishoshugi nit suite: Shonen kurabu no saihyoka” (Concerning the Idealism of Youth: A Reevaluation of Boy's World), Shiso no kagaku (March 1959), 15-31.

⁵⁷ I have not been able to obtain accurate circulation figures but Shonen sekai's longevity alone, compared with that of most other children's media until the WWI years, suggests its dominance through the mid-1910s. This was certainly the official position of Hakubunkan as can be seen in Tsubotani Yoshiyoro, Hakubunkan gojunenshi (A Fifty-year History of Hakubunkan), Hakubunkan, 1937.

⁵⁸ Nihon Kokkai Toshokanhen, Zasshi Mokuroku, vol. 3, Nihon Kokkai Toshokan Henbu, 1981, 1701.

59. Captain Matsuzaki's exploits were later immortalized just before the second Sino-Japanese War in 1937 with the publication of Tsuji Zennosuke (ed), Ruishu denki dainihonshi (Collected Biographies from Imperial Japanese History), Yusankaku, 1935-1936.

⁶⁰ The basic storyline comes from Hasegawa, Jido senso, 16-17.

⁶¹ Ibid., 19.

⁶² “Sansho wa kotsubu demo piriri to karai,” Nichibei, July 1922, 34. Sansho is a Japanese pepper.

⁶³ Ibid., 36-37. Visual images of men committing seppuku were not uncommon in war and historical novels at this time. I have found examples in both girl's and boy's magazines throughout the 1920s and 1930s.

⁶⁴ Ibid., 36-37. The original artist for the illustrations in Nichibei was named until the September 1922 issue when Yamada Rikken's name appeared in each subsequent issue.

⁶⁵ Hasegawa, Jido senso, 19. Huffman discusses this as well in Creating a Public, For a discussion on Kunikida's place in modern Japanese literary history, see, Edward Fowler, The Rhetoric of Confession: Shishosetsu in Early Twentieth-Century Japanese Fiction, University of California Press, 1992, 74-75, 86-93, and Jay Rubin “Kunikida Doppo,” Ph.D. diss., University of Chicago, 1970 and Injurious to Public Morals. Fowler is only English-language literary scholar I have encountered who discusses the contributions to children's literature made by many Meiji writers before they attained fame as producers of adult fiction.

⁶⁶ This account is taken from Hasegawa, Jido senso, 19-20.

⁶⁷ Kyoka's penchant for the fantastic and the bizarre is revealed in M. Cody Poulton, Spirits of Another Sort: The Plays of Izumi Kyoka, Ann Arbor Center for Japanese Studies, University of Michigan, 2001. Like many scholars of adult literature, however, Poulton pays little attention to Kyoka's work as a children's writer.

⁶⁸ Hirotsu was also a Kenyusha member. The Kenyusha presence suggests a number of interesting points of analysis I am unable to explore here. It seems clear that Iwaya actively sought contributions from members of his own group, who were in turn happy to earn some income in the early stages of their careers. In terms of legacy, children's fiction draws a fairly straight line from the Kenyusha men who embraced the concept of playful composition (gesaku) and kanzen choaku. This is in contrast to the naturalist movement that overtook the Kenyusha group, the adherents of whom rarely entered into the field of children's fiction.

⁶⁹ Hasegawa, Jido senso, 20-21. This story reflects a gendering trend in children's media common to all martial traditions that permitted only Japanese boys to anticipate their fate in battle. Girls and women were relegated to support roles of nurturer or nurse whose ability to face the enemy in battle had to await their rebirth as males. This support role was not modern but the creation of new institutions like the Red Cross gave it a particularly modern focus.

⁷⁰ Nichibei, November 1922, 66.

⁷¹ Quoted in Hasegawa, Jido senso, 98.

⁷² See Ibid., 19 and James Huffman, Creating a Public, 199-224.

⁷³ This point is made by many including Huffman, Creating a Public and Rubin, Injurious to Public Morals.

⁷⁴ Torigoe says that Kaiteigunkan's enormous popularity since its publication in 1900 may have created renewed interest in Ukishiroamong young readers. Torigoe Shin and Nemoto Masagi, “Oshikawa Shunro to Tachikawa Bunko,” 108-09.

⁷⁵ Ibid., p. 111.

⁷⁶ Oshikawa Shunro, Kaitei gunkan, Hakubunkan, 1900. Ito participated in the Battle of the Yalu River on September 17, 1894. The battle seems to have been a draw but is noteworthy because it was the first major naval encounter involving ironclad ships with breech-loading guns.

⁷⁷ Between 1911 and 1912 Oshikawa lost his two sons to illness, turned to drink and died in 1914 from acute pneumonia. Although his mentor Iwaya is better known in Japan, Oshikawa is one of the few writers of children's fiction known outside Japan.

⁷⁸ Ito Hideo, Shonen shosetsu taikei, vol. 2, Sanichi Shobo, 1987, quoted in Torigoe Shin and Nemoto Masagi, “Oshikawa Shunro to Tachikawa Bunko,” 109.

⁷⁹ Oshikawa Shunro, “Keikai subeki Nihon” (A Warning for Japan), Boken sekai, December 1910, reprinted in Meiji daizasshi fukuenpan (Meiji Reprint Series of Great Magazines), Ryudo Shuppan, 1978, 174-179.

⁸⁰ Ibid., 174.

⁸¹ Ibid., 174.

⁸² Ibid., 176.

⁸³ Ibid., 177.

⁸⁴ Ibid., 178. Oshikawa never identified these enemies clearly but he seemed to be taking aim at the middle classes and all those who supported democratic ideals or any form of egalitarianism.

⁸⁵ English and Japanese sources generally agree on the importance of Verne and Wells on the development of war adventures and science fiction in but only the Japanese sources have linked this specifically with children's media. In English, see Susan J. Napier, The Fantastic in Modern Japanese Literature: The Subversion of Modernity, Routledge, 1996 and Robert Matthew, Japanese Science Fiction: A View of a Changing Society, Routledge, 1989.

⁸⁶ A good general discussion of Euro-American literary influences on Meiji Japan is Hirakawa Sukehiro, “Japan's Turn to the West” (trans. Bob Wakabayashi), Cambridge History of Japan, vol. 5, The Nineteenth Century, Cambridge University Press, 1989, 432-498.

⁸⁷ Lea is a fascinating but relatively unknown character in modern history. Not quite five feet tall, hunchbacked, and dismissed from West Point due to ill health, Lea nonetheless managed find the martial life he so desperately sought, leading a ragtag group of Chinese soldiers against the Boxers in 1900 before fleeing to Hong Kong and Japan with a price on his head courtesy of the Empress Cixi. In Japan Lea sought out Sun Yat-sen who was so impressed by the little man, he promised to make Lea his chief military adviser. Sun finally made good on his promise ten years later. With the proclamation of the Chinese Republic in Nanjing on January 1, 1912, Sun made Lea a full general and his chief of staff. Lea never lived to direct the fortunes of the new republic however. He suffered a massive stroke en route to America that same year and died at age 35 in November 1912. Information on Homer Lea in English or Japanese is thin. There is Eugene Anschel's Homer Lea, Sun Yat-sen, and the Chinese Revolution, Praeger Publishers, 1984, although I have not had a chance to consult this work. In Japanese, see Hasegawa Ushio, Jido senso, 76-77, and Ueda Nobumichi, “Taisho ni okeru nichibei miraisenki no keifu, (“The Genealogy of the Japan-America Future War Stories in the Taisho Era”), Jido Bungaku Kenkyu 29 (November 1, 1996), accessed here, July 12, 2006. The above storyline is taken from Simon Rees, “Homer Lea: Author of The Valor of Ignorance,” Military History, October 2004, accessed online here, August 2, 2006. Rees says The Valor sold 84,000 in its Japanese translation but provides no documentation. Lea also wrote Day of the Saxon, which documented much the same story only relating toGermany and England. At the time of his death, Lea was working on The Swarming of the Slav, about the Russian war-like impulse. Overall, Lea's works have a decidedly racist and misogynistic edge. In Valor he repeated disparages Jews as money mongers, feminists as enervating influences and displays open hostility to Oriental immigration and the intermixing of the races. This he said would spell doom for America.

⁸⁸ Ike Ukichi, Nichibei senso, Hakubunkan, 1911. This information comes from Ueda Nobumichi, “Taisho ni okeru nichibei miraisenki no keifu” and Rees, “Homer Lea.” The Valor of Ignorance received mixed reviews in the United States but was read with great enthusiasm by the likes of Sun Yat-sen, Douglas MacArthur, General Adna Chaffee, and Field Admiral Lord Frederick Roberts.

⁸⁹ Homer Lea, The Valor of Ignorance, (Harper and Brothers, 1909), Simon Publications 2001, 47.

⁹⁰ Ibid, 48, 52, 56.

⁹¹ Ibid., 52-53.

⁹² Ibid., 76.

⁹³ Ibid., 82.

⁹⁴ Ibid., 66.

⁹⁵ Lea never explained why Japan would want to occupy parts of America. He simply assumed that the “law” of nations and Japan's own uber-martiality dictated this. Curiously, this was the exact argument of Miyazaki and Oshikawa in reverse. Japan was at the mercy of the United States, according to them, because it was far behind the US militarily and technologically.

⁹⁶ Quoted in Hasegawa, Jido senso, 80.

⁹⁷ Another example of this plotline is Abu Tempu's future war classic “Taiyo wa ketteri” (The Sun Victorious) serialized in Shonen kurabu from January 1926 until Abu's untimely death in November 1927.

⁹⁸ Kuwahara, Shonen kurabu no goro: Showa zenki no Jido bungaku (The Age of Boy's Club: Early Showa Children's Literature), Keio Tsushin, 1987, 91-93.

⁹⁹ By “trace” I mean create in the sense that among all the stories we tell ourselves about our origins a significant number relate to war. This is particularly true of national histories of the last 100 years and also of the manner in which we teach our children in the classroom.

¹⁰⁰ C. Wright Mills, The Power Elite, Oxford University Press, 1956, 184-85.

¹⁰¹ Ibid., 223.

¹⁰² The entire speech is reproduced here. Cited September 12, 2006.

¹⁰³ Ibid.

¹⁰⁴ Cynthia Enloe, The Curious Feminist: Searching for Women in a New Age of Empire, University of California Press, 2004, 217-220.

¹⁰⁵ Cynthia Enloe, “Beyond Steve Canyon and Rambo: Feminist Histories of Militarized Masculinity,” in John R. Gillis (ed.), The Militarization of the Western World, Rutgers University Press, 1989, 119, 139-140. See also Enloe, Maneuvers: The International Politics of Militarizing Women's Lives, University of California Press, 2000, 3-11. Here Enloe elaborates on the reach of militarization as a social process and offers strategies by which it can be analyzed and critiqued.

¹⁰⁶ Michael Geyer, “The Militarization of Europe, 1914-1945,” in J. R. Gillis (ed.), The Militarization of the Western World, Rutgers University Press, 1993, 79.

¹⁰⁷ Catherine Lutz, “Making War at Home in the United States: Militarization and the Current Crisis,” American Anthropologist 104:3, 2002, 725-727.

¹⁰⁸ This statement corresponds to Enloe's first three of seven core beliefs of militarism as an ideology: “a) that armed force is the ultimate resolver of tensions; b) that human nature is prone to conflict; c) that having enemies is a natural condition.” Ibid., 219. Clearly the interpreters of Lamarck and Darwin have much to answer for.

¹⁰⁹ A good discussion of the perceived dangers new definitions of womanhood and femininity posed to Japanese conservatives in the 1920s and 1930s is Barbara Sato, The New Japanese Woman: Modernity, Media, and Women in Interwar Japan, Duke University Press, 2003.

¹¹⁰ The focus on death also serves to deflect attention away from the fact that in war one also kills. To say that one has died for a cause (for “us,” for example) is psychologically more satisfying and acceptable than to say that one has killed for that same cause. He who dies is a martyr or hero and retains a degree of humanity that he who kills does not. And until recently this has meant man against man. In the vast, linked systems of war and its remembrances constructed by most countries in the last century - Japan, Canada and America included - sacrificial death occupies centre stage. It is death we mourn and glorify, even when hating war and its costs. Thus, dying displaces killing and thus enables the intensification of militarization as a process because the public is compelled to remember and always support sacrificial death. These systems of war and remembrance also include the media and the images they collectively create as our vicarious experiences of war. Children's print media in Japan, for example, served as a valuable means of remembering war, particularly as new, victorious wars were grafted onto those of the past. This process was particularly important after the Russo-Japanese War because few adults or children from this time onward had any direct experience with war until the 1930s. I explore this relationship between dying and killing elsewhere in Owen Griffiths “What We Forget When We Remember the Pacific War,” Education About Asia, (Spring 2006), 5-9.

¹¹¹ Girls’ magazines like Shojo kurabu and shojjo no tomo published no future war stories that I have found, although they did advertise them to girls. There were, however, numerous adventures with girl protagonists who were usually motivated to solve a mystery because of the death of a male relative. One example is Miyazaki's Yurejima (Ghost Island), Shojo kurabu, January - December 1925. Ueda has argued that these stories were too fantastic to be taken as serious science fiction because girls clearly did not have the physical power to subdue men. This seems to reflect a continued Japanese gender bias since such scenarios are no more fantastic than boys overpowering men. See Ueda, “Miyazaki Ichiu no Jidobungaku.”

¹¹² Kimata Osamu, “Bakumatsu aikoku josei no uta: Minatogawa kiyoku nagareshi” (Songs of Female Patriots of the Bakumatsu Era: The Minato River flows purely) Shojo kurabu, January 1945, 5-7.

¹¹³ This letter was published by Goto Shosa of the War Ministry's Information Bureau under the title “Kamiwashi o miokuru” (Bidding Farewell to the Divine Eagles), Shojo kurabu, February 1945. 19.

¹¹⁴ Charles Tilly, “War Making and the State as Organized Crime,” in Peter B. Evans, Dietrich Rueschemeyer, and Theda Skocpol (eds.), Bringing the State Back In, Cambridge University Press, 1985, 170-171.

¹¹⁵ The reciprocal relationship between print media and the Japanese public is a central theme in Huffman's, Creating a Public. Japanese scholars like Torigoe, Ueda, and Hasegawa, tend to shy away from the idea of print media as a collection of agents. When asking whether men like Iwaya, Oshikawa, or Miyazaki were militarists, for example, they evade the hard answer, opting for the simpler, less pointed one that these men were products of their times.

¹¹⁶ Karl Marx, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Napoleon, Kessinger Publishing, 2001, 3-4.

¹¹⁷ Helen Mears, Mirror For Americans: Japan, Houghton Mifflin, 1948.