Coffinman: The Journal of a Buddhist Mortician

Rating:
Summary: Something you don't read everyday...
Review: ... Also, should you find this title, no, it is not mis-categorized from the graphic novel/comic genre.
Shinmon Aoki's "Coffinman" (subtitled The Journal of a Buddhist mortician) is a small work that one can easily complete and mentally digest in a short period of time in-between the latest Oprah recommendation and politico-talking head bleating, but unlike the de jour bestsellers, "Coffinman" will resonate with the reader for a much longer time and for deeper practical purposes. As the story begins, Mr. Aoki reflects upon the sight of Mt. Tateyama, and one can sense that the mountain is symbolic of the big (but not unconquerable) question(s) that will ultimately present themselves. Several that come to mind after reading are, do we value the time we have? Are we really living or just merely existing? Do we respect life (no, not in that Operation Rescue definition of the word) or are we desperately clutching it close because of our fear of what happens "after" life? And when we revisit Mt. Tateyama later in this diary/memoir, it seems welcome and is almost reassuring in the sense that our assumptions and opinions regarding the Big 3 of life and death and suffering have been somewhat crystallized. Indeed, some answers can be just as huge as the questions.
This is a recollection of one's experience with the issue of death and it's cultural taboos, of familial pride and the potential for dysfunction, of self-doubt, and of acceptance and self-awakening. How Mr. Aoki acquires his insight is unorthodox to say the least; one doesn't get the impression that he accepted his position as "coffinman" in the context of "it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it." Rather, the occupation seems to have been drifted into, the way a boat may drift from a familiar harbor into a larger sea without perceptual knowledge. He realizes that he's no longer where he started, but now has much more room for exploration. And in that sense, one gets a deeper understanding about the nature and the participation of "the end", and the acceptance of the role of finality in this flowing and twisting stream that is life. Death does, however, loom prominently and there are some descriptive scenes the deal with physical deterioration of the human body. They are, however, not written in a sensationalistic fashion. Actually, Mr. Aoki follows a respectable and humble style, comfortably balancing passages between prose and poetry.
I would not go so far to suggest that the book is definitive about the subject of Buddhism. The personal experiences involving death and dying could have happened to anyone and the religious epiphany (of sorts) involved, in this case, happened to manifest into a deeper appreciation and understanding of Buddhism. The potential for crossover to those readers of different faiths appears to be easy and non-threatening (and encouraged) in that spirituality can arise and enlighten from the most unlikely of wellsprings.

Rating:
Summary: Something you don't read everyday...
Review: ... Also, should you find this title, no, it is not mis-categorized from the graphic novel/comic genre.
Shinmon Aoki's "Coffinman" (subtitled The Journal of a Buddhist mortician) is a small work that one can easily complete and mentally digest in a short period of time in-between the latest Oprah recommendation and politico-talking head bleating, but unlike the de jour bestsellers, "Coffinman" will resonate with the reader for a much longer time and for deeper practical purposes. As the story begins, Mr. Aoki reflects upon the sight of Mt. Tateyama, and one can sense that the mountain is symbolic of the big (but not unconquerable) question(s) that will ultimately present themselves. Several that come to mind after reading are, do we value the time we have? Are we really living or just merely existing? Do we respect life (no, not in that Operation Rescue definition of the word) or are we desperately clutching it close because of our fear of what happens "after" life? And when we revisit Mt. Tateyama later in this diary/memoir, it seems welcome and is almost reassuring in the sense that our assumptions and opinions regarding the Big 3 of life and death and suffering have been somewhat crystallized. Indeed, some answers can be just as huge as the questions.
This is a recollection of one's experience with the issue of death and it's cultural taboos, of familial pride and the potential for dysfunction, of self-doubt, and of acceptance and self-awakening. How Mr. Aoki acquires his insight is unorthodox to say the least; one doesn't get the impression that he accepted his position as "coffinman" in the context of "it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it." Rather, the occupation seems to have been drifted into, the way a boat may drift from a familiar harbor into a larger sea without perceptual knowledge. He realizes that he's no longer where he started, but now has much more room for exploration. And in that sense, one gets a deeper understanding about the nature and the participation of "the end", and the acceptance of the role of finality in this flowing and twisting stream that is life. Death does, however, loom prominently and there are some descriptive scenes the deal with physical deterioration of the human body. They are, however, not written in a sensationalistic fashion. Actually, Mr. Aoki follows a respectable and humble style, comfortably balancing passages between prose and poetry.
I would not go so far to suggest that the book is definitive about the subject of Buddhism. The personal experiences involving death and dying could have happened to anyone and the religious epiphany (of sorts) involved, in this case, happened to manifest into a deeper appreciation and understanding of Buddhism. The potential for crossover to those readers of different faiths appears to be easy and non-threatening (and encouraged) in that spirituality can arise and enlighten from the most unlikely of wellsprings.