"Thank you and ok" is written by someone with a lot more maturity and Zen insight than Van De Wettering. Chadwick had been sitting for his entire adult life before he followed his teacher to Japan; Van De Wettering went to Japan on the suggestion of a University professor. What others might consider bad experiences, or inconsistencies with Zen practice (such as Chadwick's friend Norman who is full of hate for another monk), roll off Chadwick like rainwater. It is precisely this maturity that makes this book such an interesting read.

Chadwick spends a lot of time in Japan resisting speaking on the topics that everyone expects him to talk about, such as what he likes about Japan. Yet, much of this book is devoted to just such an undertaking. What is so wonderful about this book, however, is that, for the most part, it presents anecdotes describing precisely what happened and only what happened. This leaves the readers to draw their own conclusions about these differences, or what there is to like about Japan.

It is so refreshing not to have to read some jaded American's judgmental attitudes and opinions about the Japanese. Although, Japanese people often identify strongly with their "unique" culture, many Japanese like any other people, when you get to know them, are what we would call in the U.S., "characters." You get a good sense of that in this book. This book breaks down a lot of cultural myths, and teaches people not to generalize about millions of people at a time.

But, as simple as it might seem, there is some genuine insight into Zen, which the casual reader might miss. The title "Thank you and ok" conveys the essence of Zen, as the book explains in more detail. A more earth-shattering insight comes from the final chapters of his stay in Japan. Chadwick is open-minded enough to change Zen schools and study with a master who works with riddles, after having spent his previous life just sitting. One of these riddles is whether a dog has the buddha nature (are animals capable of enlightenment?), and while we expect the answer to this to be "yes" (in Budhism all sentient beings have the buddha nature), a zen master said "mu" which literally means no. As an answer to this question though, "mu" points to the buddha nature itself, which is beyond yes and no. Chadwick's practice consisted of asking this question in Japanese and Chadwick replying "mu." The answer was known; it was the manner of delivery that counted. As Zenkei Shibayama might say: "you yourself have to BE directly `mu'." The final advice given to him by his master was to continue to say "mu" with everything he did; work directly at it, be just it. This advice has deep implications.

A brief note about the organization of this book. As others have noted, the chronology of the book skips back and forth between times and places. If this bothers you, you can read about his experience as a monk first, and then read about his experience as a lay person since the chapters are clearly marked next to the chapter number as to time and place. If you decide to read this book a second time, and I recommend it, try reading it straight through and you will see how the organization of the book makes sense.

This book is a real page turner and utterly engrossing. I give it five stars, as it is one of the very best books of its kind.

12 of 13 found the following review helpful:


Best of the foreigner-encounters-Japan books, hands down.  Jun 04, 1998 By Antonia Saxon (abs6@cornell.edu)
There are perhaps fifty books about Westerners living in Japan, and perhaps fifty more about the West's encounter with Zen. Chadwick's book is by far the most appealing of these. His refusal to type-cast the Japanese he meets, his beautiful and disarming candor, and his unpredictable reactions to new experiences make this a wonderful book even for a reader who's never been to Japan, or one who has no particular interest in Zen. Everybody I've recommended it to has loved it.

15 of 17 found the following review helpful:


Do it yourself enlightenment  Jul 18, 2008 By Daiho
American Zen practitioner David Chadwick went to Japan in 1988, lived in a monastery for six weeks, taught English for two years, then went home and wrote a book. His description of monastic life is a fascinating account of a world about which little is written in English, the rest of his life less so. Chronicles of language teachers in Japan fill the cut-out bins of discount book sellers.

There have been some small changes in the twenty years since Chadwick trained at Shogoji, a Soto Zen temple in Kumamoto prefecture (which the author makes a thin attempt to veil by changing the name to Hogoji). A sodo (a dedicated mediation hall) and shuryo (study hall) have been added, and cooking is now done with gas instead of wood. But otherwise life on the mountain remains much the same. There is still no electricity, the kitchen is dangerously dark, poisonous centipedes are hunted with murderous intent, and practice remains remarkably sterile.

One of Chadwick's Zen mates, an American monk with a decade of Japanese Zen experience, confides that "the purpose of training in Japanese Zen temples isn't to help you along the path to enlightenment - it is to cultivate you into a refined and obedient Japanese priest for Japanese temples." Having attended the 2008 training at Shogoji, this reviewer can verify that the purpose of the training remains precisely the same. (See my blog, FullThangka, for more on that experience.)

Chadwick's memory of an incident at the San Francisco Zen center is particularly revealing of the decline in Zen training. A gathering of senior American priests requested Katagiri-sensei, an important player in the introduction of Japanese Zen to the United States, teach them how to do dokusan, the practice of private interviews with students. Katagiri-sensei said he couldn't help them. That he had never been taught himself. That his teachers never taught dharma. They would have to figure it out for themselves, as he had.

There's certainly something to be said for being the source of your own enlightenment. The Buddha said as much in his parting message. But where, then, is the need for temples and priests?

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9 of 11 found the following review helpful:


Deceptively well-written  Oct 04, 2002 By David J. Delaurant
It wasn't until I finished this excellent book that it occured to me how really good Chadwick's writing is.

Presented as a first-hand account, the text is surprisingly free of personal bias. Chadwick writes about himself as a detached observer, something many authors attempt to do but few succeed at.

I'm no disciple of Zen, but I've read this book twice and can highly recommend it to anyone interested in modern Japanese society.

8 of 10 found the following review helpful:


I loved this book!  Feb 02, 1998
I have a certain (though very limited!) degree of experiential overlap with the author of this book. Like him, I practice zen - although unlike him I have never pursued the practice as far as Japan. Like him, I have practiced zen at the San Francisco Zen Center on Bush St. But since I live in Dayton, Ohio, I don't practice zen there all that much! And finally, like him, I have been to Japan and been amazed, amused, and astounded by the place. However, unlike him, I was only there for a short time - 10 days. But it was long enough so that I kept laughing and saying "Yeah! I know what you mean!" as I was reading the book. This is just a damn good book - it's kind of like a Kerouac book without the tiresome, self-conscious "artistry." I don't think I could have talked to Kerouac in a million years - I'm not intense and hip enough by any stretch of the imagination. But this guy, I could really enjoy spending some time with him. And I think most people will feel the same after reading the book - really great!

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