The Swords Of Silence (Paperback)

Reviews

"My review" by Breakaway R. - 18 November 2019

A harrowing story of a Jesuit priest and his Christian parishioners in 17th century Japan The year is 1626. For nearly 25 years, Father Joaquim has been a Jesuit missionary in Japan, where he and his catechists, Tonia and Miguel, live in secret, sheltered by the devout Christians of their small village. During that time, Father Joaquim has ministered to his parish and studied the culture in which he lives, mastering the Japanese Way of the Sword. However, the situation for Christians in Japan is rapidly becoming more dangerous. The ruler of Japan, the Shogun, believes the proselytisation of Christianity is a threat to his regime and the vanguard of a possible invasion by the Spanish and Portuguese. Hundreds of Christians, priests and peasants alike, are being brutally persecuted, tortured and murdered by the Shogun’s samurai soldiers. When Father Joaquim journeys to Nagasaki to borrow money for taxes imposed on his village by their daimyo (overlord), tragedy strikes. Upon his return, the Jesuit priest, his catechists, and the villagers must all summon the greatest of courage and most steadfast of faith to face the terrible ordeals that await them … “Who am I to soften the edges of history to create a gentler story?” the author asks in a note at the end of the novel. Set a few years before the Shimabara Rebellion of 1637-1638, The Swords of Silence is a meticulously researched depiction of 17th century Japan that does not flinch from extensive and graphic descriptions of some of the most horrifyingly imaginable (and at times unimaginable) instances of cruelty and degradation. While historical accuracy is to be commended, in this case, as a literary work, it makes the novel something of a chore to read. Although their evident aim is to elicit our empathy, compassion, and horror at man’s inhumanity to man and woman, the constant, lengthy, relentless accounts of staggeringly brutal violence and torture, lingering as they do on every gory detail, are too many and too much to absorb, thereby lessening the impact and leaving the reader numb. With the violence as its primary focus, the novel’s portrayal of its characters suffers somewhat. Unlike the Jesuit priest of Shūsaku Endō’s Silence, which is the obvious point of comparison, Father Joaquim does not struggle or waiver in his faith, though at times he doubts his ability to get things done. There is very little insight into any of the other characters, which is where The Swords of Silence could have perhaps jettisoned yet another long description of terrible torture, and focused instead on developing its characters, their inner lives, and their relationships with each other. Towards the end, there is an interesting, uneasy alliance between the Christians and the Buddhists, the latter of whom have been serving the Shogun in persecuting the former. At first this alliance appears to occur rather abruptly; however, we discover it is linked to a seemingly random yet, as it turns out, deeply personal incident that happened earlier in the story and thus the groundwork was laid for the alliance to be born. More of this and less of the endless descriptions of torture and brutality would have balanced the novel out well. Here’s hoping for Book Two. Arwen Evenstar Breakaway Reviewers received a copy of the book to review