James Clavell - Gai-Jin Copyright 1993 BOOK JACKET INFORMATION Grand in scope and scale, filled with the richness and passion of two great histories coming together, Gai-jin is the long-awaited sixth novel in James Clavell's magnificent Asian Saga. Sweeping us back to the enigmatic and elusive land of his best-selling Shogun, he weaves an extraordinary tale of Japan, now newly open to gai-jin--foreigners--and teeming with contradictions as the ancient and the modern meet in a clash of cultures, of nations, of generations.

It is 1862, and in Japan's Foreign Settlement of Yokohama, reverberations from an explosive act of violence will forever alter--and connect--the lives of the major characters. Malcolm Struan, at twenty, is heir to the title of tai-pan of the most powerful and bitterly contested English trading company in the Orient, the Noble House. Malcolm's fate, and that of his family's legacy, become inextricably intertwined with that of a beautiful young French woman, Angelique Richaud. Desired by many, loved purely and passionately by Malcolm, Angelique will hold the future of the Noble House in her hands.

Intricately interwoven into the story of the struggle for control of the Noble House is a powerful parallel story of the Land of the Gods, Japan, a country ripped apart by greed, idealism, and terrorism as groups of young xenophobic revolutionaries, ronin, attempt to seize the Shogunate and expel the hated gai-jin from Japan. One man, Lord Toranaga Yoshi, a direct descendant of the first Toranaga Shogun, attempts not only to protect the Shogunate, but to usher it, and Japan, into the modern age.

Amid the brutality and heroism, the betrayals and the stunning romance, a multilayered, complex story unfolds. Here the dark and erotic world of the pleasure houses--the Ladies of the Willow World, spies, and terrorists--meets the world of pageantry and power--monarchs and diplomats. And here East meets West in an inevitable collision of two equally powerful cultures as James Clavell creates a vibrant and authentic portrait of a time that is gone forever... but of a world not unlike our own.

JAMES CLAVELL is the internationally acclaimed author of the best-selling Asian Saga, which has a remarkable seventeen million copies in print. He divides his time between Europe and America.

Delacorte Press THE ASIAN SAGA so far consists of: 1600: Shogun 1841: Tai-Pan 1862: Gai-Jin 1945: King Rat 1962: Noble House 1979: Whirlwind This novel is for you, whoever you are with deep appreciation--for without you, the writer part of me would not exist....

Gai-Jin, meaning foreigner, is set in Japan, in 1862.

It is not history but fiction. Many of the happenings did occur according to historians and to books of history which, of themselves, do not necessarily always relate what truly happened. Nor is it about any real person who lived or is supposed to have lived, nor about any real company. Kings and queens and emperors are correctly named, as are a few generals and other exalted persons. Apart from these I have played with history--the where and how and who and why and when of it--to suit my own reality and, perhaps, to tell the real history of what came to pass.

GAI-JIN BOOK ONE YOKOHAMA 14th September 1862: The panic-stricken girl was galloping full speed back towards the coast, half a mile ahead, along footpaths that led precariously through the rice swamps and paddy fields. The afternoon sun bore down. She rode sidesaddle and though normally expert, today she could hardly keep her balance. Her hat had vanished and her green riding habit, the height of Parisian fashion, was ripped by brambles and speckled with blood, tawny fair hair streaming in the wind.

She whipped the pony faster. Now she could see the tiny hovels of the Yokohama fishing village clustering the high fence and canals that enclosed the Foreign Settlement and spires of the two small churches within and knew, thankfully, in the bay beyond were British, French, American and Russian merchantmen and a dozen warships, both steam and sail.

Faster. Over narrow wooden bridges and canals and irrigation ditches that crisscrossed the paddy and swamps. Her pony was lathered with sweat, a deep wound on his shoulder and tiring rapidly. He shied. A bad moment but she recovered and now she swerved onto the path that led through the village to the bridge over the encircling canal and to the main gate and the samurai guard house, and Japanese Customs House.

The two-sworded samurai sentries saw her coming and moved to intercept but she charged through them into the wide main street of the Settlement proper on the seafront. One of the samurai guards rushed for an officer.

She reined in, panting. "Au secours... a l'aide, help!"

The promenade was almost deserted, most of the inhabitants at siesta or yawning in their countinghouses, or dallying in the Pleasure Houses outside the fence.

"Help!" she called out again and again and the few men spread along its length, British traders and off-duty soldiers and sailors mostly, some Chinese servants, looked up startled.

"God Almighty, look there! It's the French girl..."

"What's amiss? Christ, look at her clothes..."

"Cor, it's her, the smasher, Angel Tits, arrived couple of weeks ago..."

"That's right, Angelique... Angelique Beecho or Reecho, some Frog name like that..."

"My God, look at the blood!"

Everyone began converging on her, except the Chinese who, wise after millennia of sudden trouble, vanished. Faces began to appear in windows.

"Charlie, fetch Sir William on the double!"

"Christ Almighty, look at her pony, poor bugger will bleed to death, get the vet," a corpulent trader called out. "And you, soldier, quick, get the General, and the Frog, she's his ward --oh for God's sake the French Minister, hurry!" Impatiently he pointed at a single-story house flying the French flag.

"Hurry!" he bellowed, the soldier rushed off, and he trundled for her as fast as he could. Like all traders he wore a top hat and woolen frock coat, tight pants, boots, and sweated in the sun. "What on earth happened, Miss Angelique?" he said, grabbing her bridle, aghast at the dirt and blood that speckled her face and clothes and hair. "Are you hurt?"

"Moi, non... no, I think not but we were attacked... Japanners attacked us." She was trying to catch her breath and stop shaking, still in terror, and pushed the hair out of her face.

Urgently she pointed inland westwards, Mount Fuji vaguely on the horizon. "Back there, quick, they need, need help!"

Those nearby were appalled and noisily began relaying the half news to others and asking questions: Who? Who was attacked? Are they French or British? Attacked? Where? Two-sword bastards again! Where the hell did this happen...

Questions overlaid other questions and gave her no time to answer, nor could she yet, coherently, her chest heaving, everyone pressing closer, crowding her. More and more men poured into the street putting on coats and hats, many already armed with pistols and muskets, a few with the latest American breech-loading rifles. One of these men, a big-shouldered, bearded Scot, ran down the steps of an imposing two-story building. Over the portal was "Struan and Company." He shoved his way through to her in the uproar.

"Quiet for God's sake!" he shouted, and in the sudden lull, "Quick, tell us what happened.

Where's young Mr. Struan?"

"Oh Jamie, je... I, I..." The girl made a desperate effort to collect herself, disoriented. "Oh mon Dieu!"