by Millard (Corky) Alexander

      ONE OF THE MORE interesting phenomena in recent publishing history—at least, in the somewhat limited literary sphere of Tokyo and environs—has been the almost instantaneous popularity of one Max Danger, an expatriate American who somehow muddles his way from one baffling episode in the on-going struggle with the "Japanese economic-animal kingdom" to another. And he miraculously stays a half-step ahead in the series of events that has swept him along through the pages of the Tokyo Weekender fortnightly for the past years.

      Readers have followed the escapades of Max Danger with amused fascination as he has somehow metamorphosed from a wet-behind-the-ears bumbling neophyte in the mystic ways of Japanese society to a more certain swimmer through the maelstrom of mystery and tradition that keeps Nippon's ways and wisdom perpetually vague to most foreigners seeking their fortune in perhaps the world's most formidable marketplace.

      We last saw Max and his wife—the beautiful Gloria, member of three separate PTAs of three different international schools—and their three kids in Max Danger: The Adventures of an Expat in Tokyo, which became a runaway best seller for the Charles E. Tuttle Co. and author Robert J. Collins.

      Now in its fourth printing, the first volume of Max's adventures has virtually become "must" reading for every newcomer who sets foot in the Tokyo business community, regardless of his nationality, for the imponderables and insufferables that Max confronts on a daily basis are almost invariably based upon truth—at least the peculiar sort of truth that makes simple existence from day to day in surroundings unlike anywhere else on the globe a major accomplishment.

      Along the way, Max has learned the ABCs of getting along in the maze of must-dos and musn't-evers that regulate nearly all facets of living in the empire of Japan, both commerically and domestically. For example, he has become a past master at the "drinks after work" syndrome in which the token foreign worker learns to deem it compulsory to meet with the office staff and fellow executives in one, two, or more of the countless bars, saloons, and cabarets that make Tokyo remain the world's major drinking establishment. In fact, Max has even evolved from the hesitant faker of guzzling and the avoider of the karaoke microphone into an enthusiastic planner of the after-hours pub-crawling.

      Indeed, we readers and Max fanciers are set to wondering about what thoughts might course through the minds of such office staff stalwarts as Serious Hirose and Max's nubile secretary Nipples Akimbo when they ponder the metamorphosis from shy, tentative Tokyo newcomer into the bon-vivant party animal who once found himself donned in a full-feathered chicken suit, leading the fun.

      Ah, so! Inscrutable, these foreigners!

      And yet despite his relative savoir-faire in the byways and inroads of surviving in the international community of Japan, and despite his empathy with confreres, strange things continue to happen to Max Danger, things that in one particular light might seem perfectly explainable, but when involved with Max become arcane adventures in the human conflict and struggle for sanity and continuity of some kind.

      For example, who else but Max Danger, through the countless episodes and observations of his fellows, could devise a continuing list of do's and don'ts from "Mister Etiquette"—no one, that's who.

      And yet, in the midst of the humorous, dumbfounding notations and never-ending fencing with the unfathomable, Max occasionally—almost inadvertently— stumbles upon Real Truth. As does Gloria. More frequently, the attitudes and previously inexplicable reactions of their Japanese "hosts" become crystal clear to the Dangers, and, in those rare moments of sudden clarity and insight, reveal a shared humanity.

      When they meet the ordinary citizens of Tokyo, their new home—the shoe repair man; the lady whose son has suddenly gone bad; the policemen in the corner police box; the youngsters who are nothing but dedicated Yomiuri Giants fans—they realize that these are the real people of Japan. In such moments, Bob Collins rises far above the writer who amuses us with tales both imaginary and true and emerges as an authentic chronicler of Real Truth about Japan.

      But it's the Max to whom the eerie and the unorthdox occur that people best remember—and whose exploits they will continue to read in the Weekender and in this new volume, More Max Danger. For anyone who has lived the Japan adventure, these spasms of humor, incredulous occurrences, and Real Truth become the ultimate way to explain it all to those unfortunates who have not yet had the pleasure of enjoying life in Japan.

      INTRODUCTION

      MY GRANDMOTHER, a wise and wondrous woman, had a handle on Japan. As a college student in the late nineteenth century, she studied all that was known in the West about the Land of the Rising Sun. She understood what there was to understand.

      "It's a nation of smallish people," she'd say, "who do clever things with their hands."

      My wife's grandmother, a native of old Tokyo, had a handle on non-Japanese. As one of the first of the diplomatic wives to go abroad, she observed the West through the filter of ambassadorial politeness and restraint. She understood what there was to understand.

      "They're all big people," she'd say, "who believe their opinions are facts."

      As someone involved with the legacy of both these noble ladies, I have long felt a responsibility to set the record straight. I mean, how could old-timers like that—people born years before our parents—have anything but naive and ill-formed opinions about subjects as complex as Japan and the West? And without, as far as I know, the advantage of television.

      Max Danger has been inserted in the midst of the commercial and economic empire of today's Japan. As a Westerner, he is not just observing Japan, he is living in and with it. He is also exposing himself to the Japanese, who in turn have the opportunity to relate at various levels with him.

      The stories—some true, some almost true, and some that should be true—chronicle the adventures of people on both sides of the issue. It's a random bag, so not every chance encounter, misunderstanding, thrill, or disappointment develops the dramatic potential for a full-blown story.

      For example, this morning the superintendent of our building did something he's been doing every day for ninety-one straight days. He rang the doorbell at 7:30 AM and asked if I wanted him to bring the morning newspaper up from downstairs. I did what I've been doing for ninety-one straight days and said "yes." He went away. The fact that he has never returned with the newspaper—not once

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