Spark

by Naoki Matayoshi

Genres: Coming of Age; Humor & Satire; Literary Fiction

Synopsis

Hilarious, strange and moving in equal measure - a Japanese multi-million-copy smash hit about the struggles of a pair of young manzai stand-up comedians

Tokunaga is a young comedian struggling to make a name for himself when he is taken under the wing of Kamiya, who is either a crazy genius or perhaps just crazy. Kamiya's indestructible confidence inspires Tokunaga, but it also makes him doubt the limits of his own talent, and dedication to Manzai comedy.

Spark is a story about art and friendship, about countless bizarre drunken conversations and how far it's acceptable to go for a laugh. A novel about comedy that's as moving and thoughtful as it is funny, it's already been a sensation in Japan.

Release date: August 25, 2020

Publisher: Pushkin Press

Print pages: 160

Sample

THE PIERCING TRILL of bamboo flutes soared over the
beat of the drums, and as the heat of the midday sun
dissipated into the evening air, the festive crowd, in
cotton kimonos and geta, streamed along the road by
the bay of Atami.
Yamashita and I—two halves of a manzai stand-up
comedy duo—were on a tiny makeshift stage, going
through our routine. We were supposed to be entertaining
the crowds on their way to the fireworks, but
the microphone set-up got in the way of the quickdraw
banter, forcing us to take turns and bring our
faces so close to the mic we looked like we were about
to cram it into our mouths. No one really cared—our
so-called audience kept walking by, barely noticing
us, their laughter for sure not having anything to do
with us. It was depressing. And it didn’t help that the
music was so loud we couldn’t be heard from more
than a few metres away, which meant we had to say
something hilarious every three seconds or end up
looking like a couple of dopes just standing there. Not
much we could do under those conditions, so reluctantly
we were just sort of going through our paces,
using up our time.
I can’t remember the gags we tried that day, but
Yamashita started off with something like: “What kind
of thing would you hate to hear your parakeet say?” and
I responded, “Be sure to make your pension contributions
regularly, however small, it’s all about accumulation.”
Then I came up with a list of things that your
average parakeet would not be likely to say, like: “You
still haven’t done anything about that wasted space
in our apartment,” “We need to have a serious talk,”
“What’s with all the strange looks—you’re not thinking
of eating me, are you?” and “Can we discuss fully what’s
troubling you?” Yamashita responded to each with a
grunt or a quip, but for some reason he thought “Can
we discuss fully what’s troubling you?” was hysterical
and he couldn’t stop laughing. He laughed so hard he
was gulping for air. His laughter saved me. Gave me a
moment to picture myself coming home, feeling good
about the day, and the parakeet saying, “Can we discuss
fully what’s troubling you?” And I’d say, “Yes, but first,
I’m going to take my lighter and singe your pretty little
wings.” Oh, maybe that would be cruel. Better if I just
singed the hair on my arm and scared the bejeezus out of
the parakeet. Blow the parakeet’s tiny mind! This made
me snigger. Truth is, if a parakeet, or anybody else for
that matter, had asked me “Can we discuss fully what’s
troubling you?”, right then and there onstage I would
have broken down in tears. I felt alienated, it was that
lonely, standing there trying to make funny in front of
a crowd that didn’t care if you existed or not. Suddenly,
there was a BOOM, and a burst of explosions behind
us, coming from the direction of the sea and echoing
off the mountains.
The crowd stopped in their tracks and looked up,
their faces reflecting red, blue and green. I spun around
to see a carpet of lights roll out like a vision in the
night sky, then slowly dissolve in a shower of glitter.
Before the spontaneous cheering had died away,
another firework unfolded in the shape of a gigantic
weeping willow, dangling its glowing branches in the
darkness. Smaller fireworks spiralled around feverishly,
lighting up the night as they fell into the sea.
The crowd roared. These fireworks were more beautiful
and magnificent than anything else man-made
in this city where the surrounding mountains and
sea made nature feel close. It was a perfect setting. I
wondered now why we’d even been invited here. We
weren’t really needed.