Trafford Publishing: A Thousand Years of Love

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A Thousand Years of Love

by Avia Belle Moon; co-published with Odyssea Press

181 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-1713; ISBN 1-4120-1335-6; US$18.99, C$24.00, EUR15.60, £10.81

Find out where love exists within a setting of elegance and mystery in ancient Japan and China, transcending gender and blood, eternal as the silver waves glittering on a kimono.

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About the Book About the Author Reviews Interviews Excerpts Catalogue Information

About the Book

A THOUSAND YEARS OF LOVE is a historical novel set in ancient Kyoto, Japan, and Hangzhou, China, a city described by Marco Polo as "the greatest in the world."
Join Lady Kaishi, a noblewoman of the Heian Court, as she tries to find her mother's grave site, somewhere across the East China Sea. Her search takes her from the ancient city of Kyoto, to the Temple of the Purple Clouds, on the shores of the West Lake in China. Along the way her journey becomes an inner one as well, as she begins to see the people closest to her in a new light.
She is both observer and participant in the romantic encounters of the Heian nobility, struggling to maintain her identity, transcending gender and blood in a display as passionate and brilliant as the silver waves glittering on her layered kimono.
THE HEIAN PERIOD (794-1185), was a fascinating era in world history. It was Japan's aristocratic age, dominated by the "cult of beauty," and the pursuit of aesthetic ideals. Heian Kyo (City of Peace and Tranquility), was located in Kyoto, surrounded by hills, rivers, and mountains. Within this natural setting lived the Heian nobility, in an atmosphere of elegance, mystery, and androgyny. It was a time when the air was filled with the sound of Buddhist priests chanting sutras, and the fragrance of the finest incense...where elements of Chinese astrology, such as The Book of Changes (I Ching), the yin and yang, Taoism, and Feng Shui were studied and practiced in daily life.
Heian society is perhaps best described by the most famous literary women of the Heian Period, Lady Murasaki Shikibu, in The Tale of Genji, and Sei Shonagon, in The Pillow Book.The cover shows the eternal symbol of the yin and yang. A Thousand Years of Love explores the dramatic conflict between the masculine and feminine, played out among the magnificent setting of the Heian world.

About the Author

Avia Belle Moon is the pen name of a writer who has lived in Japan for fifteen years. She has written many articles on Japanese arts and culture and been published in various newspapers and magazines in Asia, including The Japan Times, The Daily Yomiuri, Kansai Time Out, and The South China Morning Post.
She is involved in nuclear abolition activities and works with peace organizations worldwide. She has been interviewed by the BBC regarding nuclear abolition, and edited Volume 6 of the Japanese graphic novel, "Barefoot Gen-Story of Hiroshima."
She went to the University of California, Santa Barbara, where she studied art history. Upon coming to Japan in 1991 she continued her studies in Japanese art history and the Japanese language. She is currently studying Chinese.
A Thousand Years of Love is her first novel. She has many passions, including pasta, sushi, and Japanese art. She is seen here wearing an antique Japanese kimono.
"Writing and living in Japan has allowed me to engage in a process of self discovery on many levels. I hope to continue exploring my half Japanese heritage into the future, hoping that my journey will end in a place of peace and acceptance.
The 21st century holds so much promise to truly be a 'global village.' I would like to create bonds of peace through arts and culture, utilizing them as our 'weapons of mass construction.
I want to thank you for taking the time to read my book, and I hope you will enjoy reading my next novel which is scheduled for release in 2007. Please write to oydsseapress@lycos.com to reserve a copy now.

Reviews
From The Japan Times, June 4th, 2004
The Japan Times is giving away three copies of a historical novel recently completed by a former contributor to the newspaper. For full text, go to:

www.japantimes.co.jp
"Set in Japan during the Heian period (710 -1185) a period remembered chiefly for cultural advancement and peace, A Thousand Years Of Love is an ambitious, meticulously researched, at times risque historical tale. It follows a Heian courtesan who embarks upon a spiritual quest to Hangzhou, China in search of her mother's gravesite. Rich in detail and written in a graceful, weightless style, the book is a shoe-in for anyone who enjoyed The Tale Of Genji or who seeks to find out more about Japanese history through a pleasant read, particularly this rather free-living period when the heaviest influences on Japanese culture still came from the "east" rather than the "west". "
From the Kanazawa Convention Times
"Admit it; You've tried to plow through "The Tale of Genji," the classic of Japanese literature. But many classics are in Clifton Fadiman's words, "more revered than read;" Genji can be like that,and the subtle love intrigues of the royal household can be hard going. Now Kyoto author Avia Belle Moon has written a novel that is also set in the Heian Period but may be more accessible to many of today's readers, even if not a classic...Moon's research shows throughout the short novel, which is filled with details of daily life that help bring the era alive more than another visit to another shrine or temple."
From Kansai Time Out magazine, July 2004
"This book captures the luxury of the Heian era very well. The Japanese people love the duality of "light and shade," (inyo). The description of the color combinations and design of the kimonos, seen through light and shadows conveys this feeling very well, as similarily expressed in Tanizaki Junichiro's book, "The Worship of Shade," (inei no raisan.) People who are interested in Japanese pop/trendy culture will enjoy this book as well, as it contains omyoji characters(Chinese master of divination) and androgyny seen in girls' manga. I also felt the book would be suitable to study English,as the letter size is very large and easy to read."
Setsuko Tamogami, translator
"Amazingly well-written, fascinating. The words flow, history comes alive. Congratulations on such beautiful work."
Birger, New York
"If a book is a kind of war challenged by the author, then Ms. Aiva Belle Moon conquered me by her tranquil, musk fragrant, shimmering story. Since I got this book, my reading has been interrupted many times. But everytime I restart my reading, I am warmly welcomed by her beautiful sentences. The story is not such a big show, but the author has succeeded in weaving her intention of joining the ying and yang in a brilliant picturesque story of the Heian era. I enjoyed her graceful storytelling and I enjoyed the fantastic story. Honestly, I am enjoying your story most of all. Your description is so warm and beautiful that I am given many picturesque images as I'm reading. I feel as if I'm watching the vivid scenes of a movie."
Michie Nomura, English teacher
"The writing is very beautiful, and I can really see in my mind's eye the rooms, scenery, and also imagine how the people of that period felt. I like the scenes where Lady Kaishi is waving her fan furiously in front of her face."
Kyoko Nishida, Translator, "Barefoot Gen-The story of Hiroshima."
"The Heian Period is written in such detail it's scary! While reading I really felt that Japan was a part of Korea and China, unlike other novels I've read on the Heian Period."
Yukari Kimura, "Barefoot Gen-The story of Hiroshima."
"Make no mistake: A Thousand Years of Love is a fun read. I actually missed my station one night while reading this book on the train, and at 178 pages it is good for several train rides despite the relatively large print. "
The Daily Yomiuri, February 2005
"What is wonderful about Avia Belle Moon's novel is that in addition to being delightful reading, it provides the average Western reader with access to the culture and times of Lady Murasaki in a way no other modern novel I have read - English or Japanese - does. I plan to post more substantive thoughts on the book but I just wanted to pass on my intital delight and high recommendations for this book."
Rodney, Wisconsin
"Your book was wonderful! It was so colorful and picturesque!"
Patsy S, Hiroshima
"I found the detail bringing me directly into the locations of the characters and into their lives."
Chris M, USA
"SUCH A POETIC BEAUTIFUL ROMANTIC CREATIVE - TO SAY THE LEAST - PIECE OF ART THAT I REFUSE TO PUT DOWN."
Genie, Santa Barbara, USA

"This story is vague, sensuous and mysterious-all features representing Japanese traditional literature."
Yasuyo in Japan

Finalist for The 2006 Word/Work Self-Published Book Awards

Interviews with Avia Belle Moon

http://www.mindfirerenew.com/issue1/0104-interviewmoon1.html
(Please scroll to the bottom of the page, where you can enter the flash/sound version or the non-flash/no sound version, according to your computer's capacity) e-mail: oydsseapress@lycos.com
Art direction and design concept for all images - Avia Belle Moon

haiku
the image appears
whispering shattering glass
breaking in her heart

galaxies collide
keep the body electric
in the cosmos vast

the devil appears
in the shadow of a mask
gomenkudasai

The next novel by Avia Belle Moon is scheduled for release in 2007.
Write to oydsseapress@lycos.com To reserve a copy now.
Image copyright 2003 Avia Belle Moon

Sample Excerpts

A Thousand Years of Love

Map of ancient Kyoto: Akihiro Arakawa at http://p2223.nsk.ne.jp /~ara/
Chapter One
Arrows
The Palace of Heian, 1004, Kyoto, Japan
THE IKARUGA PALACE in Nara was famed for its beautiful statue of a meditating bodhisattva. Its face was an expression of maternal love, a quality that seemed to attract many pilgrims to the temple.
It was early winter. Icicles hung from the eaves of the roof of the main hall. Drops of snow fell onto the gray tiles, sliding off, slipping down to the four demons guarding the corners.
The late afternoon sun slipped out from behind clouds, shimmering, then disappearing to cast shadows on the ground in front of the temple.
The inside of the temple was cold, the air heavy with incense and still filled with the voice of a priest reciting the sutra. Minutes before his breath had been visible in the air, his chant punctuated by the ringing of the bell.
The bodhisattva sat on the altar in half lotus position, flanked by two gold lotus flowers. Glittering light from lanterns shone off the closed eyes and the sculptured folds of the cloth covering its knees.
Lady Kaishi, daughter of the Minister of the Left of the Palace of Heian, sat alone in front of the statue. Thin, winter light from the verandah lit up her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Her eyes were clear and intense, focused on the bodhisattva's face.
She prayed for one thing. To find her mother's grave.
She sent her prayer into the heart of the bodhisattva, imagining her words as arrows piercing its heart.
Her hands rubbed a pair of sandalwood prayer beads back and forth. She prayed intensely, clasping her beads until her knuckles were white and the tips of her fingers pink. She closed her eyes and prayed and prayed. When she opened them, she looked down at her hands. They looked as if they were hugging each other, and for some reason she was comforted by this.
When she had finished with her prayer she stood up slowly, her legs unsteady from kneeling so long. Her throat was dry, and she felt she needed a breath of fresh air.
She walked out on the verandah and down the wooden steps that led to the garden behind the temple. The garden was directly behind the courtyard, separated by a stone wall. Earlier, she had seen some young priests practicing archery.
There was a pond in the garden. She looked into the emerald green water and saw the reflection of sky in water, pink clouds moving between lotus pods...the sun slipped out and shone off her outer robe of crimson beaten silk...light danced off the Chinese flower and tortoise shell pattern. Like ladies in waiting, the sleeves of her five inner robes competed to outshine each other before the sun retreated. A dark red lining through the gauze of Indian sandalwood produced camellia blossom...blue green through white produced bamboo grass...silver waves glittered on the train flowing behind her.
She stared at her reflection in the water. Her skin was pale, except for patches where her face powder had come off.
Suddenly, she felt something whiz by and a rush of air. She looked up in the direction of the sound.
IN THE COURTYARD NEXT to the garden a young priest stood on a wooden board raised about two inches off the ground. He moved his left foot against the board in a circular motion. Raising his head, he stared at the straw target about thirty feet in front of him. His eyes narrowed and focused. Lifting his bow, he drew back the arrow.
In his mind's eye he saw the face of the Dragon Woman.
He could see the beginning of her breasts underneath her silk robe and the sheen of her skin against red silk...she held out a cup of sake with a single pearl shimmering in the glass, her eyes beckoning to him, words flowing like jewels from her lips...
*"My angry blood for a thousand years will be emeralds under the earth!"
Throwing back her head she laughed and drank from the cup, then shattered it against the wall.
He pulled back and shot.
Gray clouds moved against the sky, darkening the courtyard.
LADY KAISHI STARED at the face of the young priest peering over the wall. His eyes widened as he saw the arrow embedded in the tree next to her.
A few minutes later he appeared in the garden. He stood a polite distance away, then prostrated himself on the ground before her. "I'm so sorry, I didn't even see you!" He repeated this over and over.
Lady Kaishi could only see the top of his shaved head now, but she had seen his face for a moment. He looked familiar.
He remained in the prostrated position for a few minutes, then stood up, glancing at her, before bashfully looking down at his feet, playing with the bow in his hands.
She stared at him, trying to remember where she had seen him before. He somehow looked out of place in his black robe, his powerful muscles concealed.
The color red came to her...a red robed figure galloping on a gray roan, his arrow hitting a gold target.
And now in priest's robes. She stared at him for a moment, then spoke. "Didn't you take part in the mounted archery competition last year?"
"Yes. I was an Attendant in the Bodyguard Unit of the Left."
"And now you have joined the priesthood?"
He looked embarrassed. "Yes." He suddenly prostrated himself again in the snow before her. "Please, do not report this incident to my senior priest. He has a terrible temper. I have been punished already. He won't allow me to go on the pilgrimage next year, after my training is complete!"
"A pilgrimage. To where?"
"To China. Mt. Tendai."
Her heartbeat quickened. She brought a fan up to her face, and quickly fanned it back and forth. Turning away, she walked towards the tree with the arrow. She stared at it, an image of her mother's face in the waves coming to her...the scent of her father's robes.
She turned around. "Are you in contact with someone there now?"
"Well...I know of a priest who is living in Hangzhou."
She stared at him. "What did you say?"
He looked puzzled. "Hangzhou."
"Hangzhou? I would like you to give a message to the priest. Where are you staying?"
"On Mt. Hiei."
"Can you deliver the message to him?"
"Well, perhaps I can give it to some other priests who are leaving in the Third Month, on a Chinese business ship."
Their conversation was interrupted by one of the nuns. She clattered down the steps in wooden clogs, prayer beads in her right hand, followed by one of Lady Kaishi's attendants holding a paper umbrella.
The angry expression on the nun's face was framed by the gray cloth covering her head and half of her forehead. She stared at the arrow embedded in the tree, and then at the bow in the young priest's hands.
"Again this happens!" Her voice was shrill, shattering the snowy silence.
"This is the last time!" She turned to Lady Kaishi and prostrated herself on the ground before her. "I am so sorry to have caused such trouble," she repeated over and over again.
The priest looked at Lady Kaishi, then down at his feet again.
The nun stood up and turned to the priest. "I will inform your senior priest of this behavior immediately!" Her cheeks burned bright red.
The priest's face turned pale.
Lady Kaishi stepped forward. "Maybe we can reach another solution."
The nun turned to her. Her expression changed immediately to accommodate Lady Kaishi, daughter of the Minister of the Left. She smiled sweetly, a gap showing in her teeth. "Another solution?"
"The priest has just informed me that he will be returning to Mt. Hiei tomorrow. He has promised to meditate deeply on his behavior. Is that not right?" she said, turning to the priest.
He nodded his head, still staring at the ground.
"There's no reason to cause any heartache," said Lady Kaishi. She pulled her robes closer around her. "Perhaps we should go inside. It's getting a bit chilly."
The nun stared at Lady Kaishi for a moment. A drop of snow fell on her cheek, melted down her face, and onto her black habit. She smiled. "Of course."
The snow continued for the next few days during her trip back to the palace. She arrived in the early evening. From the window of her carriage, Lady Kaishi watched drops of water fall into the moat surrounding the huge gate to the palace, Rashomon. Gold dolphin finials at the ends of the green tiled roof glowed against the darkening sky. Through the spaces between massive red pillars she could see Suzaku Avenue running through the center of the city. It was about a two and half mile ride up to the northern part in the Left Capital, to her estate. Her outriders rode ahead through a wooden door at the side of the gate. Lady Kaishi's carriage followed, the black ox straining against the red harness attached to its yoke.
She could hear the gravel underneath the wheels of the carriage, feel how cold her hands were. She stretched her fingers over the charcoal brazier at her feet. Gazing out the window, she thought how lovely the snow looked on the branches, like slender white arms.
She thought again of the conversation with the priest.
"A pilgrimage. To where?"
"To China. Mt. Tendai."
They passed the East Temple, its pagoda spiraling into the sky.
"What did you say?"
"Hangzhou."
She was hesitant about her happiness, as if she was at the edge of an emerald pool, enticed by the cool waters, yet unwilling to jump.
They arrived at Nijo Avenue and turned right, towards the Kamo River. They passed the Shinsenen garden...the Northern Person came to mind. She had been sitting on a boat next to her that autumn night with other people of the court.
Until that moment it had been a lovely evening. The dragon head boat gliding across the pond, the reflection of autumn leaves gleaming gold in the wake...the moon, half hidden by clouds. The Northern Person sitting at the front of the boat, holding a gold leaf fan...her inner kimono grass green, the outer sea blue..she stood up, the robes of the kimono shining in the moonlight to reveal the colors of Chinese Bellflower...when she spoke her voice was soft and low...
"The moon is our mother
divine is her glow
how unfortunate are those
who fail to receive her light."
Then she had sighed and dropped the fan into the water. Her actions had been so smooth and elegant that they concealed her true nature.
Lady Kaishi was the very image of her deceased mother. When her father looked at Lady Kaishi, the memories of her mother would come back to him. In his mind, no one could replace her. The Northern Person was his principal wife. To be second to Lady Kaishi's mother, a dead woman, filled the Northern Person with a rage, which she vented on Lady Kaishi.
Only Lady Kaishi understood the poem that night had been meant for her, and that it referred to the years she had been denied love from her mother. She remembered her anger that night, and how she had wanted to take the beautiful features of the Northern Person in her hands and crush them.
Lady Kaishi felt ashamed and tried to cast away her hatred for the woman, but couldn't.
It is terrible to feel this way. Where is my compassion?
The mud-roofed walls surrounding her estate came into view. She searched for the bodhisattva's face in their smoothness, but only saw the smile of the Northern Person and heard her soft voice...
How unfortunate are those who fail to receive her light.
The entourage entered through the outer east gate. She waited inside the carriage while her attendants took out the portable shrine from the carriage house to her immediate left. It was terribly cold, and she didn't feel like walking through the central corridor to her quarters on the cold, wooden floors.
They carried her through the inner east gate to her quarters, the eastern pavilion. Through the falling snow she saw Ai kneeling on the verandah, waiting for her.
* From "Autumn Comes" by Li Ho. Taken from POEMS OF THE LATE T'ANG, p. 103, translated by A.C. Graham, Penguin Books, 1965. © Copyright A.C. Graham, 1965. Reproduced by permission of Penguin Books, Ltd.
Excerpts from different chapters
The Temple of the Purple Clouds
THEY LEFT IN THE latter part of the Hour of the Rabbit. The temple was located in the northern part of the lake, and would take a few hours to reach on foot. The morning was beautiful, crisp and clear. White clouds drifted behind the green hills surrounding the lake.
"What are those?" He pointed to a line of three stone pagodas spiraling from the water into the sky. "Those are the Impressions of the Moon above Three Deep Pools," answered the young priest.
They crossed the Wave Reflections Bridge to come upon a small harbor. A school of bright orange carp swam up to them, expecting food. Staring down at them reminded Priest Nyorin of the beautiful carp in Japan, and he felt sad.
Green willows surrounded the lake, their branches hanging over the water. They came upon a small pagoda bearing a wooden roof.
"The Lotus Temple in the Breeze. Can you see the eight sides of the lotus?" said the young priest. He turned to Priest Nyorin and pointed to the roof, his face soft in the late morning wind.
Priest Nyorin was not watching him, but a woman sitting under the willows, rinsing some stones. put them in her right hand and cupped water with her left, pouring water over them. She did this several times. Then she stood up and walked over to the line of stone rocks jutting out of the water leading to the pagoda. She carefully stepped on each rock, slowly making her way to the pagoda. She knelt down, clasped her hands together and faced north, towards a temple perched on a jagged peak in the distance. Then she placed each stone in her hands and raised them high, offering them to the temple.
Priest Nyorin gazed at the temple. "What temple is that?" The young priest followed his gaze. "The Temple of the Purple Clouds. They say it is the home of the Goddess of the West Lake." He glanced at the woman. "She is offering the stones to her."
When they reached the northern part of the lake at the Hour of the Sheep, the sun was high in the sky. Late afternoon sunlight bathed the waters in shades of gold. A bamboo grove reminded Priest Nyorin of the groves in Sagano outside of Kyoto. A swept stone path curved through the grove and into the cool darkness of the bamboo. Sunlight sparkled through the green leaves.
Androgyny
THE MORNING DRUMS awoke him. He left while the Master was still asleep. Outside, the skies opened up and poured rain, drenching his robes. When he arrived at the gate his attendants rushed out to him. He brushed aside their attempts to remove his wet robes and strode into his room, snapping his wooden scepter. The candle in the room flickered and hissed in the early morning darkness. He sat down in front of his mirror. Dark circles hung like rain clouds under his eyes. He opened a lacquered makeup box of his mother's.
He looked at himself in the mirror. First, he applied a mercury cream base. Then, a white powder foundation. Next, a rose tint for the cheeks. Now for the eyes. He opened a box of pigments his mother had used to paint onna-e paintings and took out a box of powdered lavender pigment. Dipping his right forefinger into it, he carefully rubbed above his right eye, softening it around the edges. Then he dipped his left finger into the pigment and spread it above his left eye. Now for the lips. What color to use? Something to accent the robes...he chose plum. Last, he painted ink over his eyebrows.
When his attendants helped him on with his robes again they were rich with the fragrance of musk, as they had been laid on a rack under burning incense. He took off his hat and let his hair flow...the metamorphosis was complete.
All book text and art images on this website Copyright 2003 Avia Belle Moon. Reproduction is forbidden without written permission.

Catalogue Information