A Non-Conformist’s Guide to Surviving Society, episode 1: Things I Do in Secret to Keep People from Reading My Mind

In every issue of Pen, the Naoki Prize-winning author Satoshi Ogawa presents a new essay in his series ‘A Non-Conformist’s Guide to Surviving Society’. In this series, Ogawa reflects on the often eccentric strategies he devises to navigate life’s everyday challenges. Below is the first installment, ‘The Fake Broccoli’.

The summer of my sophomore year in college, I went camping with some friends. We had a barbecue, drank freely, and laughed a lot. During the height of the festivities, one of my friends suddenly leaped into a shallow patch of water, somewhere between a pond and a puddle, just in front of our tent. He turned to me, shouting, ‘Hey, Ogawa! Come on in with me!’ I immediately said, ‘Absolutely not’, but I knew that if I didn’t follow suit, the situation would spiral out of control. So, I descreetly handed my phone to a nearby friend before plunging into the water, pushed by the group.

I still carry the memory with me as a source of embarrassment. It’s not the fact that I jumped into the pound, nor the typical, unexplainable enthusiasm that comes with being in college, that I find shameful. What I regret is that, despite saying ‘Absolutely not,’ I secretly prepared myself to jump in.

I’ve bought broccoli many times, especially when I didn’t particularly want to eat it. In my mind, I call these unnecessary purchases ‘fake broccoli’. Here’s when it tends to happen: I decide to make curry, head to the supermarket, and fill my basket with onions, potatoes, pork, carrots, and curry roux. But as I stand in line at the checkout, an overwhelming sense of shame takes over. I start to fear that the cashier might think, ‘This guy is obviously about to make curry.’ So, I step out of line and head to the vegetable aisle, adding a broccoli to my basket. But even then, I feel like it’s not enough. I imagine the cashier thinking, ‘This guy’s trying to cover up the fact that he’s making curry by adding a fake broccoli.’ So, I grab a packet of stew roux to camouflage my intentions, making it unclear whether I’m preparing curry or stew. And when that still doesn’t feel right, I toss in some konjac noodles and mirin, hinting at the possibility that I might be making niku jaga (meat and potato stew). Only then do I feel ready to check out with my curry ingredients.

I wonder if the friend who held onto my phone before I jumped into the pond saw right through me. He probably thought, ‘This guy says he doesn’t want to, but he’s obviously going to jump in.’ It’s embarrassing to think that my thoughts and desires might be so easily perceived by others.

This tendency of mine also makes writing novels a challenge. Every story follows certain familiar patterns. In a mystery novel, for instance, the evidence left at the crime scene rarely points to a suspect without an alibi as the culprit—it’s too obvious, and readers wouldn’t be surprised. If one of the main characters is on a train that explodes, and their fate is uncertain, you can be sure they’ll survive and reappear at just the right moment. They’ll show up and when someone asks, ‘Weren’t you supposed to be dead?’ they’ll respond with a smirk, ‘Whew, that was close!’

When I write, I often find myself slipping into these predictable patterns. At such moments, the ‘fake broccoli’ voice in my head whispers, ‘If you continue down this path, the readers will figure out the ending.’ That’s when I start adding broccoli, konjac noodles, cream, zucchini, dried porcini mushrooms, and even wasabi—until the story becomes so convoluted that I end up with a book that doesn’t sell well.

About the author

Satoshi Ogawa was born in Chiba Prefecture in 1986. He made his literary debut in 2015 with This Side of Eutronica (Yūtoronika no Kochiragawa, Hayakawa Books). In 2018, his novel Game Kingdom (Gēmu no Ōkoku, Hayakawa Books) earned both the 38th Japan SF Grand Prize and the 31st Yamamoto Shūgorō Prize. He was awarded the 168th Naoki Prize—one of Japan’s most prestigious literary awards, recognizing exceptional popular fiction— in January 2023 for The Map and The Fist (Chizu to Ken, Shūeisha). His latest work, Your Quiz (Kimi no Kuizu), was released by Asahi Shimbun Publishing in 2024.