JACOB RITARI
TAROKO GORGE
A disillusioned and raggedy American reporter and his drunken photojournalist partner are the last to see three Japanese schoolgirls who disappear into Taroko Gorge, Taiwan’s largest national park. The journalists—who are themselves suspects—investigate the disappearance along with the girls’ homeroom teacher, their bickering classmates, and a seasoned and wary Taiwanese detective. The conflicts between them—complicated by the outrageousness of the photographer and the raging hormones of the young—raise questions of personal responsibility, truthfulness, and guarded self-interest.
The world and its dangers—both natural and interpersonal—are real, changing, and violently pressing. And the emotions that churn in dark rooms overnight as the players gather in the park visitors’ center are as intense as in any closet drama. There’s enough action and furor here to keep readers turning the pages, and the cultural revelations of the story suggest that the human need for mystery outweighs the desire for answers.
$15.95 US / $18.95 C | Fiction Paperback | 6x9 | 256 pages
July 2010
ISBN: 978-1-936071-65-4 | Carton Quantity: 24
We heard a cry far off. Sharp but still indistinct. I don’t know why, it wasn’t that unusual, but maybe just because of the awkwardness that follows when one man expresses affection for another, I tilted my head to listen, and so did Pickett.
The cries were coming closer. They didn’t sound quite like a distressed person. There were several voices.
I tapped Pickett’s arm and we started down, him with two bottles of Yuenling still in the sack. I made out “Kari-chan, doko?”—a girl’s voice.
Kari, where are you?
Then a boy: “Oi, Mori! Joudan janee yo!”
Mori, this is no joke.
The girl again: “Onegai, onegaishimasu!”
Please, oh, please.
Then, although I should have known already, came what stopped my heart: “Taeko-chan, onegai!” There was pain in that voice.
I jumped—but it was only Pickett’s hand on my arm.
A moment later the boy appeared in front of us, wearing a school coat, scratching his head. He looked big for his age. He took us in unsurprised and said in fair enough English, “Excuse me. Have you seen three girls?”
Pickett and I exchanged a look. We had to admit we had. And then the whole business started.
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Jacob Ritari has studied with the Fo Guang shan buddhist organization in Taiwan and studied Japanese language and literature at Japan’s Sophia University. He lives near new York City.
