Irony of Vorstenbosch
Unico Vorstenbosch, the new Chief of the Dutch East Indies Company, appears to be a respectable man with no tolerance for corruption or illicit behavior, sentencing Daniel Snitker harshly for smuggling and allowing Jacob de Zoet to ferret out all those who have been using their positions for selfish gain. This initial appearance, however, is rather ironic; far from an ethical man, Vorstenbosch is simply using this demonstration as a stratagem to enable his own smuggling, extortion, and immoral exploitation, and the company has simply replaced one corrupt chief with another.
Irony of Jacob's Affections
Jacob has strong, pure affection for those he loves, and his commitment to Anna (the Dutch woman to whom he is betrothed) seems strong at the beginning of the novel. As time goes on, however, he seems to simply forget about her, as she is replaced in his mind with the face of Orito Aibagawa. Jacob seems to be a good, loyal man for the most part, so this irony is particularly surprising and noteworthy.
Irony of Ogawa Uzaemon
When Jacob first meets the Japanese interpreter Ogawa Uzaemon, he sees only another Japanese face, perhaps a little younger than the others, but a mere foreigner nonetheless. As the novel progresses, however, it is revealed how ironic this first impression of Uzaemon was: de Zoet learns that Uzaemon is a man of prestige from a noble Japanese family, a trained samurai warrior, and a former suitor of Orito Aibagawa, whom he still loves and valiantly attempts to rescue from her imprisonment at the mountain shrine.
Irony of Mohei's Death
Mohei, the monk who flees from Enomoto's captivity to bring the crucial scroll to Otane, is running from the facility in order to avoid death, or virtual death by dint of life imprisonment. This action, however, turns out to be ultimately ironic, as Mohei's flight deprives him of the antidote to a poison he's been imbibing for years, and his very absence from the place of his captivity leads to his quick demise.
Irony of Magical Realism
As Mitchell often does, he creates a world in The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet that seems to be just like our own: a historical setting off the coast of Nagasaki at the turn of the nineteenth century. This perception of a disenchanted reality, however, is called into question as the reader learns more about the mystical rituals of Abbot Enomoto and the possibility of attaining eternal life. This slight edge of the supernatural is only ambiguously incorporated, however, so the illusion of a 'normal' reality is preserved. This fused dichotomy is essentially ironic, as the world the reader perceives at the beginning might turn out to be far more complicated than they might believe.
