There are few worlds as shrouded in mystery as that of Japan’s imperial family. It is generally thought of as 
cloistered, as beautiful and exotic but few real details regarding the day-to-day lives of the ruling monarchy are known. That is what makes The Commoner, John Burnham Schwarzt’s fourth, wonderfully-researched novel
, so fascinating. We are led into that very private world by Haruko, a commoner from a well-placed Japanese family, who in 1959 marries the crown prince and afterward very nearly disappears from public view. It is through her soft but completely compelling voice that we learn of the hardships of that life--think bird in a gilded cage. Think Cinderella without the godmother and without the opportunity to flee. For one, Haruko is cruelly separated from her parents and friends. Not only are they not permitted to attend her wedding as other than members of the crowd of spectators that clog the streets on the day of the ceremony, but after, it is almost as if she is dead to them. In a real sense, as the weeks pass, she becomes dead to herself. She is fed and clothed by ladies-in-waiting who take their orders from the crown prince’s mother whom you might describe as the mother-in-law from hell. But she is merely acting from the requirements of her position, a centuries old tradition of obligation, of subservience in a society that reveres its male leaders to the point of idolatry and worship. In fact, it would appear that a woman’s presence is only useful for providing an heir to the monarchy, a male heir. Imagine it, you cannot speak your mind. You cannot go out of doors or run to the market or have coffee with your mom and dad. As for a girl’s night out, forget it. Your world is full of cannots. Even speaking openly to your husband can be fraught with danger. Haruko finally fulfills her obligation, producing the requisite male heir only to be parted from him. The child is given into the hands of others who are better qualified to care for him. Haruko loses what little happiness was left to her. She is so beaten down, she loses her voice. She doesn’t speak. Not for weeks and weeks. This time is poignantly rendered in language that holds such pathos and grace, your heart aches for her. There is only one possibility for her emotional survival and that is for her to accept her fate, which she eventually does with quiet dignity. And her son grows into a man. But when he then weds a rising star in the foreign ministry--yet another commoner--the consequences are tragic and Haruko’s response is as courageous as it is astonishing. You want to stand and applaud. It is here that the story gains an urgency that keeps pace until the very end. The Commoner is a rare and captivating look into a little-known world and an altogether gorgeous and engrossing read.
For more about the author visit John Burnham Schwartz's website.
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