Book Review: Dragon Sword and Wind Child

Dragon Sword and Wind Child

By Noriko Ogiwara; Translated by Cathy Hirano
Viz, 286 pp.

Noriko Ogiwara’s Dragon Sword and Wind Child is an old-fashioned fantasy novel whose pages teem with wood spirits, handsome princes, magic swords, and talking animals. The story begins in a remote village in the kingdom of Toyoashihara, where an elderly couple have been raising Saya, a headstrong orphan. From childhood, they have taught Saya to worship the Children of Light, an immortal race of deities who preside over the heavens. At the village’s annual courtship dance, Prince Tsukihiro, the moon god himself, appears before the village to claim Saya as his bride. Before Tsukihiro whisks her away, Saya encounters a strange group of spirits who warn her not to follow him. They tell her that she is the reincarnation of the Water Maiden, a warrior destined to lead the Children of Darkness—the ancient spirits of the forests, mountains, and oceans—against the Children of Light with the aid of the powerful Dragon Sword.

Saya ignores their advice, traveling with Tsukihiro to the Palace of Light, a magnificent, walled city that he shares with his twin sister Teruhi, goddess of the sun, and brother Chihaya, god of wind and storms. Gradually, Saya realizes that the Children of Light are not the benevolent rulers she imagined them to be: they slaughter humans to preserve their own immortality, and wage war on Toyoashihara’s ancient spirits. When the gods select one of Saya’s companions for the gruesome purification ritual, Saya decides to steal the Dragon Sword and escape the palace. Little does she realize that the mysterious, unseen Chihaya may hold the key to unleashing the sword’s destructive power.

If the struggle between Darkness and Light, ancient spirits and immortal beings, reminds you of Lord of the Rings, that’s no accident. Ogiwara freely acknowledges her debt to Western authors such as J.R.R. Tolkein:

noticing fantasy writers in England and the United States used Celtic mythology as an important element in their work, I realized that I could use the Kojiki in the same way. The absorption of the Celtic gods by Christianity seemed very similar to the way Buddhism superceded the ancient gods of Japan.

The underlying cosmology of Dragon Sword draws heavily on the first third of the Kojiki, an ancient text describing the history of Japan from its initial creation through the reign of its first emperors. The tale of how the God of Light and the Goddess of Darkness became estranged hews closely to the Kojiki’s account of Izanagi and Izanami, the first man and woman. Just as Izanagi and Izanami had created the islands of Japan (and the spirits that inhabited its rivers, trees, and rocks), Light and Darkness created Toyoashihara together. And just like Izanagi and Izanami, Light and Darkness were separated by death. Darkness retreated to the underworld, where she lost her youthful appearance to decay. When Light attempted to rescue his bride, she drove him away out of anger and shame at her rotting form. Light retaliated by sealing Darkness into the underworld and retreated to the heavens, where he created the sun (Teruhi), moon (Tsukohiro), and wind (Chihaya). The plot itself could be understood as an allegory for Buddhism’s arrival in sixth-century Japan. In Saya’s struggle to embrace both the Darkness and the Light, Ogiwara dramatizes the process by which the animism of Shinto was syncretized with the philosophical teachings of Buddhism.

It’s a testament to Ogiwara’s skill as a writer (and Cathy Hirano’s skill as a translator) that casual readers will still enjoy Dragon Sword without any knowledge of Japanese history or religion. Ogiwara spins an engaging yarn that evokes the spirit of Shinto mythology without ever sounding stuffy or archaic. A delightful read for fantasy lovers of all ages, whether you’re a Tolkein buff or a Takahashi fan.