Fish, Books, and the Scent of Old Edo

A Wanderer’s Notes from Master Anju

A secondhand bookshop is a curious place. Give it a single shelf under the eaves, and a whole journey begins.

For the past five years, I’ve roamed from shop to shop, chasing three quiet signals in the air: fish, sushi, and old Edo. Whenever I found a shelf standing alone—leaning slightly, as if weary from its own stories—I’d scan its top and bottom, left and right, in a single swift glance. If a spine whispered, I picked it up. If the table of contents flickered like a fish market menu, I read it in a breath.And if the book held even a hint of what I was looking for, I carried it home like fresh catch from the morning auction.

At first, I believed all my answers lay in the seasonal almanacs of fish—that the changing “faces” of fish through the year would reveal the source of our food culture. But as I read deeper, my gaze shifted. From fish to cuisine, from cuisine to the seasons themselves, and finally to the humbling realization: Eating is always a duet with the seasons. It took me far too long to notice something so simple.

A detour? Yes. A long one. But a necessary one. Because somewhere between the briny air of the morning market and the paper-scented hush of old books, a single path began to form—a path that tied fish, books, and Edo into one quiet story.

Even now, I suspect another answer is waiting, tucked into the shadow of some shelf in some forgotten shop. And chasing that faint possibility—that is the work, and the joy, of Master Anju.

Cover Image：Goby — from Kurishigyofu (Vol.1, Scroll 2), Kurimoto Danshū. NDL Digital Collections.