What Haruki Murakami talks about when he talks about writing

Popular Japanese author is awarded the first Berkeley Japan Prize during campus visit

UC Berkeley News
By Wendy Edelstein, Public Affairs, 15 October 2008

BERKELEY — Japanese writer Haruki Murakami, whose books have been translated into close to 40 languages, from Arabic to Vietnamese, received the inaugural Berkeley Japan Prize last Friday in a ceremony at Doe Library’s Morrison Library. The location was especially apt, because the author’s books are among the most frequently checked out at the Morrison.

Duncan Williams, chair of the Center for Japanese Studies and associate professor of Japanese Buddhism, said the prize “was initiated to honor individuals from all disciplines and professions who through their work have shown a commitment to deepening and furthering our understanding of Japan on a global level.” Williams said Murakami has helped “question old perceptions of Japan as ‘the mysterious other.’ ”

Among those attending the event were the consul general of Japan in San Francisco, Yasumasa Nagamine; Peter Zhou, head of the campus’s C.V. Starr East Asian Library; Jay Rubin, a professor of Japanese humanities at Harvard, who has translated many of Murakami’s works; Neil Henry, dean of the Graduate School of Journalism; and Professor Bharati Mukherjee and Lecturer Clark Blaise of the Department of English.

In accepting the prize, Murakami called himself “just a guy writing way-out novels.” And in fact, in person he manages to come across as the everyman he portrays in such works as The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle and Norwegian Wood.

Murakami leavens his stories with Western pop-culture references. His characters engage in mundane activities like cooking and ironing. He introduces jarring elements to alter his characters’ lives, skewing reality and upending their worlds, to illustrate his recurrent themes of alienation and loneliness.

Baseball, beer, and insight

Earlier in the day, Murakami answered questions from students in two Japanese-studies classes who are reading his work this semester. When asked about the revelation that led him to writing at age 29, the author described watching his favorite baseball team, the Yakult Swallows, in 1978. An American player on the team, Dave Hilton, hit a double, and as Murakami cryptically explained it, “On that sunny day drinking beer, I just knew I could write.” Soon thereafter he submitted his first short novel, Hear the Wind Sing, to a publisher, and saw it win the Gunzou Literature Prize for promising young writers in 1979.

He wrote his first novel’s opening pages in English, then translated them to Japanese “to get the rhythm. If your sentences don’t have the right rhythm, no one will read them,” he says.

Back then, music figured prominently in Murakami’s daily life — he ran a jazz club in Tokyo for seven years after college, and to this day is an obsessive collector of jazz and rock records. After a quiet, middle-class childhood in the Kobe suburbs, his 20s were “a very hard time” that gave him material from which to draw. “I knew I had something to write,” he told the students. “Intellectual people, smart people, don’t have to write. It takes time. But I have to write to know what I am and what I think.”

On Saturday night, Murakami appeared before a sold-out crowd in Zellerbach Hall with Roland Kelts, author of Japanamerica and a Tokyo University lecturer, as part of Cal Performances’ Strictly Speaking series. Murakami first read an early short story, “The Rise and Fall of Sharpie Cakes,” in which his narrator enters a baking contest at a company that wants to extend its market share to younger consumers. While the preliminary judges of the contest enjoy his confections, the final arbiters, whom Murakami depicts as old crows, reject his efforts. Kelts suggested that the story serves as a parable for Murakami’s reception in Japan following the publication of his first novel.

Although readers have embraced his books from the start, Murakami recalled, he was branded as a punk, con man, and swindler after the publication of Hear the Wind Sing. “Some critics and other writers don’t like me — hated me — because I was different,” said Murakami. “Being different is difficult in Japan.”

Stepping into the darkness

Murakami leads an extremely disciplined life, which he discusses in a new nonfiction book, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running (Knopf, 2008). At 59, he has run 27 marathons. His running balances out the rigor of his writing life, which involves going to bed each night by 10 p.m., then rising between 4 and 5 a.m. and sitting in the quiet, early morning to “wait to catch what’s coming.” His writing process requires “stepping into the darkness,” where he observes, remembers, and writes down what he sees. His early books, he said, originated in an individual darkness, while his later works tap into the darkness found in society and history.

Murakami’s fictional world is a lonely one where characters don’t have relationships, said Kelts. “At least they have their obsessions,” answered Murakami. “Obsessions can help people survive this intense loneliness,” he said, naming some of his own — ears, refrigerators, cats, sofas, elephants, beer, and collecting records.

One of Murakami’s darkest adventures occurred when he returned to Japan from a five-year stint in America. This was in the aftermath of the 1995 Kobe earthquake and subsequent Tokyo subway attack, in which lethal sarin gas was released into packed cars by the Aum Shinrikyo cult. Murakami interviewed 65 people affected by the subway attacks — including the attackers — to produce the nonfiction book Underground (2001). The victims — mostly commuting workers — told boring stories, he said. But, he added, “if you try hard to listen, to like them, to love them, then their stories become interesting. Everyone has his own story.”


http://www.berkeley.edu/news/berkeleyan/2008/10/15_murakami.shtml

For 'missing' Japan, it's either step up or risk 'vanishing'

By Hirotsugu Koike
16 September 2008
Nikkei Weekly

Often seen as inward-looking, uninterested in global affairs, nation faces urgent need for more proactive approach, better communication skills


There has been quite a bit of talk lately about this country being in the midst of a "Japan missing" phase, having already gone from "Japan bashing" to "Japan passing." These phrases describe Japan's relationship with the rest of the world over the past couple of decades.

The phrase "Japan bashing" generally refers to the threat of U.S. trade sanctions over Japan's trade policies in the 1980s, when related friction between the two countries escalated. "Japan passing" emerged in the 1990s, used to express the fact that global interest in the country was waning.

"Japan missing" was coined just recently by the Financial Times columnist Philip Stephens, who used it in a July 3 article about Japan shortly before the opening of the Toyako, Hokkaido summit of leaders from the Group of Eight industrialized nations.

The crux of his article was that what Japan is thinking and trying to accomplish - mainly in the context of international politics - is beyond his understanding.

Of course, one might logically argue that there is little need for Japan to worry excessively about the opinions of one overseas columnist. Unfortunately, however, I must regretfully admit his "Japan missing" argument has merit, judging from my own experiences at various international conferences and other events.

The theory might also hold true not only regarding Japan's political activities, but for its business sector as well.

Alone with everybody

One Japanese company leader at a recent international symposium in Malaysia complained, "Why has Japan become so inward-looking?"

Such remarks suggest this country now has only a few powerful business leaders who can actually take proactive action to go abroad and get real knowledge about what is happening in the world, in addition to demonstrating Japan's presence internationally.

"This country has slipped back into the period of being an isolated nation," lamented another Japanese executive.

Does Japan actually have no ability to assert itself, or does it have no motivation to take more assertive action?

The simplest answer is that this country's ability to send clear messages to the rest of the world has deteriorated.

The world's second-largest economy earned a high reputation for its top-level manufacturing technology and quality control systems. But today, while on one hand Japanese pop culture has come to be prevalent all over the world, Japan makes little attempt to raise its overall profile in the global arena.

Little urgency

At a recent conference of youth groups held in Tokyo to discuss how to change Japan, Heizo Takenaka - former economic and fiscal policy minister and incumbent professor at Keio University, one of the sponsors for the gathering - spoke about what he had experienced at a one-week symposium held in Hong Kong to discuss the special administrative region's current situation. A number of former foreign governmental officials had been in attendance.

Takenaka said: "I keenly felt Hong Kong's strong sense of crisis regarding its future prospects. Back in Japan, however, there is no such pressing feeling at all."

I personally had an unforgettable experience at a meeting of the 1998 World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland.

Political leaders from dozens of nations participated in the meeting - held a year after the Asian region was hit hard by a currency crisis. The goal was to address escalating concerns over the negative effects of the regional turmoil on the world economy, but despite this fact, leading Japanese politicians were all but absent from the event.

The forum's discussions centered on a range of economic issues; for example, which measures major Asian countries should take to alleviate the impact of the crisis, or possibilities for some nations to take advantage of their currency depreciations and boost exports.

During the heated discussion, a Chinese vice premier declared China's readiness not to devaluate its currency, the yuan, and commit itself to contributing to the Asian economy - a statement that earned the country plaudits from other participants.

In contrast, Japan gave only the very unwelcome impression of being a country that can do absolutely nothing of any significance for the outside world.

Stuck on the sidelines

Japan's attitude toward the rest of the world has changed little from those days - highlighting how the country has remained locked in a losing battle with other nations over sending out strong messages to the rest of the world.

During her term in office as foreign minister, upper house member Yoriko Kawaguchi complained that a Japanese foreign minister bound by parliamentary affairs does not have many opportunities to attend international conferences.

Given that the Davos meeting is a place where international opinions are shaped, Japan needs to change its mindset to willingly dispatch its political leaders to the forum. The country would be wise, for instance, to introduce a "truce for Davos" system that would allow the prime minister and other cabinet members to join the economic forum even when the Diet is in session.

Language limitations

It is also worth noting that in this age of globalization, one minimum requirement for carrying out international activities successfully is to have sufficient communication skills to discuss complex matters and persuade other people in English.

At a symposium of business leaders from China and European countries held last year in Frankfurt, I was surprised to find that Chinese executives were able to adequately present their businesses in fluent English, displaying conversation and presentation abilities on a par with those of their European counterparts.

It is becoming painfully clear that Japan is losing its strength in comparison with other countries. Because of this, the country faces an urgent need to work harder than perhaps any other nation to develop its capacity and compensate for its declining clout.

In this sense, Japan has to move quickly to, at the very least, improve its English communication and presentation skills.

And on the whole, Japan must take bold, proactive steps to reverse its course and avoid being slapped with an even more worrisome phrase: "Japan vanishing."

Hirotsugu Koike is a deputy editorial page editor of The Nikkei.

A Samurai's Confessions: Death as a choice - I

By Eisuke Suzuki
08 October 2008
Business Recorder

This is the first of a two-part series on the question of death as a choice. In England a woman who is suffering from multiple sclerosis launched a High Court challenge last week over whether her husband could be prosecuted if he helps her to commit suicide. I think, as matter of analysis, the question should be posed not as committing "suicide," but as terminating one's participation in life.

The question of "abortion" was long debated from a "pro-choice" platform as the woman's freedom of choice in terminating an embryo in her body. Setting aside, for a moment, the fundamental difference of the beginning phase of life and the sunset phase of life, the question of "suicide" can be debated as a "pro-choice" platform.

Problems of euthanasia relate to the inevitability of involvement of a third party, be it a spouse, children, nurse or doctor, and it would be considered "assisted suicide," which is a crime punishable by up to 14 years' imprisonment in England and Wales. The 1961 Suicide Act makes it illegal to "aid, abet, counsel or procure the suicide of another." But the actual application of this law is akin to a lottery.

So, wheelchair-bound Debbie Purdy, 45, from Bradford, does not want to leave the eventual consequence of her husband's conduct in accompanying her to Switzerland's Dignitas clinic to the wide discretion of some prosecutor; she would rather know precise conditions in which her husband would be held criminally liable under the 1961 Suicide Act. So, she asked the High Court in London to clarify the law on assisted suicide.

If her husband was likely to be prosecuted, her mind is clear: she is much more likely to travel to the Dignitas clinic alone to terminate her participation in life sooner while she is capable of doing everything alone, and when her condition becomes unbearable, she wants to decide when she dies.

Now comes the influential medical ethics expert Baroness Warnock, also known as "the philosopher queen," who said in a recent interview with the Church of Scotland's Life and Work magazine (current issue, October 2008) that pensioners in mental decline should be allowed to opt for euthanasia even if they are not in pain, ie, they should be helped to die for the sake of their loved ones or society:

"If you're demented, you're wasting people's lives-your family's lives-and you're wasting the resources of the National Health Service. I'm absolutely, fully in agreement with the argument that if pain is insufferable, then someone should be given help to die, but I feel there's a wider argument that if somebody absolutely, desperately wants to die because they're a burden to their family, or the state, then I think they too should be allowed to die.

Actually I've just written an article called 'A Duty to Die?' for a Norwegian periodical. I wrote it really suggesting that there's nothing wrong with feeling you ought to do so for the sake of others as well as yourself."

In a famous 1996 science fiction blockbuster movie, Independence Day, there was a poignant scene where Russell Casse, played by Randy Quaid, sacrificed himself to save Planet Earth by crashing his F-18 jet fighter into the primary weapon of the extraterrestrials' humongous spacecraft la the Japanese Kamikaze pilot.

He died, so others may live. The 18th century Japanese samurai, Jocho Yamamoto, the famous author of "Hagakure," the book commonly known as the compilation of moral and practical instructions on the Samurai ethic, wrote:

"I discovered that the Way of the Samurai is death. In a fifty-fifty life or death crisis, simply settle it by choosing immediate death. There is nothing complicated about it. Just brace yourself and proceed. Some say that to die without accomplishing one's mission is to die in vain, but this is the calculating, imitation samurai ethic of arrogant Osaka merchants.

To make the correct choice in a fifty-fifty situation is nearly impossible. We would all prefer to live. And so it is quite natural in such a situation that one should find some excuse for living on. But one who chooses to go on living having failed in one's mission will be despised as a coward and a bungler. This is the precarious part. If one dies after having failed, it is a fanatic's death, death in vain. It is not, however, dishonourable.

Such a death is in fact the Way of the Samurai. In order to be a perfect samurai, it is necessary to prepare oneself for death morning and evening day in and day out. When a samurai is constantly prepared for death, he has mastered the Way of the Samurai, and he may unerringly devote his life to the service of his lord."

According to the commentary on "Hagakure" by Yukio Mishima, a Japanese novelist, playwright and poet, Hagakure's author, Jocho Yamamoto, "is concerned with death as a decision, not with natural death. He spoke not of resignation to death from illness, but of resolution to self-destruction. Death from illness is the work of Nature, whereas self-destruction has to do with a man's free will" (Yukio Mishima on Hagakure: The Samurai Ethic and Modern Japan, 1977, Penguin Books). Mishima continues:

"And if the extreme manifestation of man's free will is the free will to die, Jocho asks, then what is free will? Here is the typical Japanese view that being cut down in battle and committing ritual suicide are equally honourable; the positive form of suicide called hara-kiri is not a sign of defeat, as it is in the West, but the ultimate expression of free will in order to protect one's honour.

What Jocho means by 'death' is the deliberate choice to die, and no matter how constrained the situation, when one breaks through the constricting forces by choosing to die, one is performing an act of freedom. This is, however, inevitably an idealised view of death, and Jocho knows perfectly well that death does not often appear in such a pure and uncomplicated form."

Mishima says Hagakure's author, Jocho Yamamoto, is expressing his Utopianism, his principles of freedom and happiness by saying. "I found that the Way of the Samurai is death." His formula "death-equals-freedom" is the ideal formula of the Samurai, and Jocho Yamamoto knows that death is not necessarily like that. There is, says Mishima, "Jocho's deep-rooted nihilism."

Nihilism or not, it seems the notion of death as a choice reflects the extraordinary high rate of suicide among the Japanese youth. Unfortunately, their thinking process in making that choice is flawed.

A "decision" seems to have been made not as a result of the constant and careful evaluation and re-examination of options available to them in that particular context of decision, nor was advice/consultation from any parent or support group at school or workplace available to them. If they had any support group, it was a circle of acquaintances on the Internet who had been thinking about the same choice; it merely reinforced the initial inclination toward death and accelerated that process.

Downturn stirs Japan suicide fears

By Chris Hogg
BBC News, Tokyo
Monday, 6 October 2008

Earlier this year the Japanese government released the results of a survey which suggested that one in five men and women in the country had seriously thought of taking their own life.

Japan has one of the highest suicide rates in the industrialised world. On average around ninety people kill themselves in Japan every day.

In past years the suicide rate peaked each time the country's economy fell into recession.

Now that Japan's government has reported one quarter of negative growth, and signalled it is likely there are more to follow, there are fears of further increases in the number of people taking their own lives.

Many of those who choose to kill themselves go to Tojimbo Cliffs whose stone columns rise 25 metres (82ft) above the Sea of Japan.

Each evening, a retired policeman, Yukio Shige, patrols the cliffs looking for those he thinks might be planning to jump.

People in pain

If he suspects someone is contemplating suicide he approaches them and starts a conversation, hoping to change their mind.

"For a lot of them it's a cry for help," he says.

"They are really hoping someone will stop them before they take their own lives."

Sometimes grown men burst into tears in front of him, he says. "I say to them 'You must be in a lot of pain, tell me what happened'."

He is a volunteer. His group offers help and support to those he saves from the cliff edge.

He has saved around a 150 people who had planned to kill themselves, many more men than women. Often their problems are to do with work.

"Takanori", a young man in his mid-20s who asked not to have his real name used, is one of them.

A few months ago he came to the cliffs intending to throw himself into the sea after losing his job.

Standing on the cliff edge, he recalls what drove him to such desperation.

"I went to the unemployment office, but there was only training and help for older people," he says.

"People of my age were supposed to cope with this difficult situation alone. There was no help for me at all."

Vulnerable generation

It was not always like this.

Going to work for a Japanese company used to be like joining a family. You worked there your whole life.

But in today's harsher economic climate, that is no longer the case. One in three workers in Japan is now a part-timer, constantly moving from job to job on part-time contracts like Takanori.

"This means there's a lot more working poor, a lot more who are worried about losing their job, a lot more people stressed out that they might lose their job," says Professor Jeff Kingston from Temple University in Tokyo.

"Workers are having to take over more responsibilities because their colleagues have been fired and downsized."

The professor believes that is one reason why there has been a huge spike in the number of suicides in recent years in Japan.

However, he points out that the lack of adequate mental health services and a growing number of elderly people here - an age group more prone to take their own lives than others - are to blame too.

But if, as most economists believe, Japan is in recession already, then any spike in suicides this time could be worse than before.

In the 'live house'

The internet makes it easier to find new ways to kill yourself.

For instance, it is not hard to find instructions for how to make lethal poison gas from household cleaning products. Hundreds of people have used this method to kill themselves in Japan this year.

Japan accepts that it has a problem with suicides but struggles to find a solution.

One answer can be found in a basement bar, a "live house" in the Kabukicho district of Tokyo on a Saturday afternoon.

A group of performers are on stage, relating their life stories. All have in the past tried to kill themselves.

The event is being broadcast live on an internet site where people discuss suicide.

The organiser, Koji Tsukino, believes this is the best way to deter people, to show them that hard times can be overcome.

"When I was in my 20s I tried to kill myself many times," he explains.

"I didn't listen when people told me not to or said I was selfish or that there were others who were suffering. But I think I would have listened to others who had gone through what I was going through if I'd had the chance to come to an event like this."

Mr Tsukino says if they save just one life then efforts like this will be worthwhile. But the reality is that such small-scale initiatives only scratch the surface of the problem.

Learning to relax

Back at Tojimbo Cliffs Yukio Shige says desperate people still come day in day out.

"The people who come here to try to die are all very earnest," he says.

"They take their work seriously, they care a lot about their families. That's why they become so stressed."

He tells them, he says, to learn to be irresponsible, to tolerate the mistakes other people make. "Otherwise," he warns, "they will just destroy themselves."

Japan's government has pledged to do more to cut the country's suicide rate, a promise which the retired policeman welcomes.

But he fears it will take years for any new initiative to work.

"I have no choice," he says, "but to stay out on the cliffs on patrol."


http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/asia-pacific/7651518.stm

Japan's Next Mission: Be Creative

By John Beck
23 September 2008
BusinessWeek.com

The younger generation is behind a drive to redefine Japan as a leader in design and innovation -- think fashion, architecture, video games, and hybrids.

From the end of World War II to the early 1990s, Japan had one mission -- catch up to the West. Japan has largely succeeded and now enjoys one of the world's highest standards of living. But since then the country hasn't quite known what to do with itself.

So what is the next great mission that can captivate Japan's citizens? In a word -- creativity. In fact, Japan is already transforming itself in ways no other major economy has by completely redefining its national mission to one of creativity and innovation.

Yet most analysts and journalists still insist the country has not found a new rallying cry yet. They usually trot out the same old tropes about an aging workforce and a shrinking population. And, unfortunately, Japan's current leaders still grab most of the headlines with their calm, consensus-based appeal for patience and reason.

But as every astute observer of the nation knows, there are always two sides to every Japanese story -- the tatemae, or surface, and the honne, or one's true feelings. Most of the changes I'm describing are taking place beneath the surface, primarily among the younger generation. These people are much more creative, have a greater tolerance for risk, and want to make a real difference in the world.

Young Eager to Change

This split was revealed in a global survey I conducted a few years ago, which mainly assessed people's attitudes about change. I conducted the survey in multiple countries around the world, including the U.S., Germany, China, and Japan, with more than 2,000 responses from each country. I found that Japan had an older population that wanted to avoid large, externally focused changes -- in other words, to focus on efficiency. But they also had a younger generation that was eager to strike out and create a new identity for the country by embracing such changes. Meanwhile, the U.S. was almost the exact opposite -- almost half of the respondents, young and old, wanted to keep things going largely the way they had been and avoided wanting to make large, sweeping changes to their way of life.

These data, along with my own personal observations, tell me that Japan is truly on the cusp of something big. After arriving here in my current position as the dean of one of the country's top-ranked business schools and seeing the story unfolding on the ground, I was convinced that the emerging ideas of young, independent, and corporate entrepreneurs could make Japan the world's Creativity Engine.

Japan's last mission made the country a world leader in only two industrial sectors: automobiles and electronics. But this time, the country is likely to have a broader presence in a variety of industries. Already you see signs of the nation's creative dominance in fashion [one of author Malcolm Gladwell's most important "tipping points" in fashion is from Japanese youth in Tokyo], architecture [Tadao Ando and Toyo Ito, just to name two], video games [Nintendo's Wii], anime and manga [almost a dozen planned Hollywood blockbusters are based on these art forms, with some coming from Sony (SNE) Studios, of course], as well as new breakthroughs in genetics and gerontology science.

World Pastry Cup Winner

If "creativity" is defined as something that is both different and useful, then it is little wonder that first-time visitors to Japan are usually overwhelmed by the creativity they see all around them. The famed shopping and entertainment districts, luxurious hotels, striking architecture, truly convenient public transportation, gadgets, fashions, and even the serene temples tucked away on side streets all convey the power of Japanese uniqueness and utility.

Creativity in food, both Japanese [expected] and non-Japanese [surprising] cuisine, has given Tokyo more total stars than Paris in the famed Michelin Dining Guide. Japanese chefs also recently won the World Pastry Cup, the "Formula One" of competitive pastry making. Now, winning in something like "pastries" might be dismissed as another case of Japanese creativity being purely derivative. "Japanese are great at copying, but don't really come up with anything new" is a refrain that I've heard hundreds of times over the years -- especially from Japanese. But if you've been into a pastry shop in Japan, you'll see all the usual suspects that you'd find in a Parisian patisserie and about a hundred new versions of bread that you never even thought possible. And it is exactly these creative products that should not be dismissed -- since from such minor trial-and-error initiatives, entirely new brand product categories can emerge.

Another common dismissal of Japan is that their success only comes from innovating in areas like "high quality" and efficiency. When thinking about Toyota's globally dominant position, it is common to credit only the "quality" of the product. But a study conducted by MIT in the 1990s showed that Ford's (F) factories were often better than Toyota's (TM) in terms of both quality and efficiency.

Savvy Design Is Key

The real reason behind Toyota's success wasn't efficiency -- it was creative design. After all, many Americans have fallen out of love with Detroit-based car designs during the last 15 years. [In fact, the last real design breakthrough for Ford was the Taurus, which was originally designed by Mazda.] Meanwhile, Toyota came out with groundbreaking, distinctive models like the Prius and the Scion while improving its Lexus line over time.

As Japan's younger generation rises through the workforce, I believe we will see creativity that both defies expectations and rebuilds the country's reputation in the world as a creative leader. While the ability to renew oneself is no easy feat, I believe the world's image of "stagnant Japan" will be replaced by one of a "creative Japan." More important, as the country makes this major transition, people from around the world will learn a great deal from Japan not only about how to rally around a new national mission, but also about the art of creativity itself.


http://www.businessweek.com/globalbiz/content/sep2008/gb20080922_666617.htm

Aso's personality and pedigree help his bid to become Japanese prime minister

By Mari Yamaguchi
23 September 2008
Associated Press Newswires

TOKYO (AP) - Taro Aso, the man expected to become Japan's next prime minister, has brought to this week's electoral battle an unusual asset in politics here: personality.

In a nation with strong gun laws, Aso is an Olympic sharpshooter. A son of the elite, he is best known for cracking politically incorrect jokes and collecting comic books. After losing three races for premier, he's back again for a fourth.

Aso was elected Monday to head Japan's ruling Liberal Democratic Party. Barring last-minute defections, he is assured of winning a parliament vote Wednesday to choose a new prime minister because the Liberal Democrats control the lower chamber, which has the final say in the matter.

Although the right-leaning former foreign minister's policies remain a bit murky, his popularity as a brash straight-talker is considered his strong suit.

"His media strategy has helped him to be seen as a likable figure," said Koichi Nakano, a political scientist at Sophia University in Tokyo. "But whether he is a capable prime minister is a different story."

Aso, 68, is a striking contrast from the last two men to serve as prime minister.

Shinzo Abe was a nationalist ideologue who came to power in 2006 promising -- with a gratingly wooden delivery -- to create a "beautiful Japan." He left in just a year, driven from office by scandals and a nervous intestinal disorder.

His dour successor, Yasuo Fukuda, frowned his way through a series of battles with the resurgent opposition, and once glumly told visiting foreign news executives that he didn't enjoy his job. He, too, is quitting after 12 months.

Aso, who favors Cuban cigars and gold necklaces, has a reputation as a fighter who often gets in trouble for his off-the-cuff remarks. He smiles easily and always looks on the verge of issuing a wisecrack from the side of his mouth.

In recent years he's angered China by calling it a "significant threat," raised ire in Asia by attributing Taiwan's educational success to Japan's wartime colonial rule and compared the top opposition party to the Nazis.

"When we talk about Mr. Aso, we think of his gaffes," said political analyst Takao Toshikawa. "It's a serious concern, especially with Asian countries carefully monitoring his remarks."

Aso matches his attitude with an untouchable political pedigree.

He's the grandson of former Prime Minister Shigeru Yoshida, a giant of Japanese postwar politics. His wife's father was the late Prime Minister Zenko Suzuki. His sister married into the royal family.

After graduating from Tokyo's Gakushuin University in 1963, he then studied at Stanford University and the London School of Economics. He was president of his family's Aso Cement Co. from 1973 until 1979, and competed in the 1976 Montreal Olympics as a skeetshooter.

He's distanced himself from the historical record of his family coal mining business, which used forced laborers from Korea while that country was still a Japanese colony.

Aso was first elected to parliament in 1979 and has served in several key party and Cabinet posts, including ministers of economic planning and internal affairs, and most recently, foreign minister. If elected, he would be Japan's first Roman Catholic prime minister.

Aso supports a stronger Japan in dealings overseas and advocates a tough stance in the global fight against terrorism. He has rejected criticism that his hawkish stance would create friction with Asian neighbors, saying recently "We'll live with China."

His campaign slogan is "Japan's underlying power" and he has promised to bolster the economy, overhaul the ailing pension system and improve working conditions for women.

Aso claims to draw inspiration from his grandfather, who served as prime minister in the 1940s and 50s.

"When I was small, he used to say, 'The Japanese have incredible energy. Japan will surely get better. Japan is an incredible country.' Now I'm recalling his words," Aso wrote in his recent book, "Incredible Japan."

But Aso is perhaps best known for his favorite hobby -- reading comic books.

Aso is popular among Japan's throngs of young "manga" book and animation fans. He argues Japan can exercise diplomatic "soft power" through its pop culture and founded the International Manga Award for foreign comic book artists.

In the days after Aso announced his intention to run to succeed Fukuda, manga and anime stocks surged.

Aso needs all the popularity he can muster. The opposition controls the upper house of parliament and it's widely expected he would be forced to renew his party's mandate to govern by calling snap elections for the lower house.

"The ruling party cares about who can help it win the national elections, rather than what his policies are," said Tsuneo Watanabe, a political analyst at Mitsui Global Strategic Studies Institute.