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603 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 1954
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About the author
Yasunari Kawabata
387?books3,636?followersYasunari Kawabata () was a Japanese short story writer and novelist whose spare, lyrical, subtly-shaded prose works won him the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1968, the first Japanese author to receive the award. His works have enjoyed broad international appeal and are still widely read today.
Nobel Lecture: 1968
Nobel Lecture: 1968
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August 11, 2019
The Sound of the Mountain by Yasunari Kawabata
How responsible do a couple approaching retirement age remain for their adult children? That¡¯s the basic theme of this story. The story is set around the time of the end of the American occupation of Japan, so say early 1950¡¯s.
This Japanese couple has a son and a daughter and both are currently living with them due to marriage problems. The daughter has her own daughter and the son and daughter-in-law both have moved in, partly for financial reasons. The son is frequently coming home late and drunk. I¡¯ll put some of their other issues in a spoiler.
Shingo, the father and main character, has a nagging wife. He and his daughter-in-law confide in each other, and in the Japanese tradition she waits on him more than his own wife does She serves him his tea and most meals, makes him an out-door fire and brings him his blanket. They seem almost in love with each other but it remains a proper relationship. When she has an abortion, she tells him first, not her mother-in-law.
Shingo tells us a couple of times through his thoughts that his wife in homely and his daughter even homelier, so her chances of finding a second husband with a child are apparently slim. Shingo still dreams of his wife¡¯s beautiful sister who died years ago.
The father and son work in the same office and the son helps his father out with work-place duties since the older man has started having ¡®senior moments.¡¯ Through work-place contacts the father keeps in touch with his son¡¯s affairs (pun intended) and learns of the goings-on with his son¡¯s mistress. He even visits the mistress at one point trying to straighten things out by offering the mistress money.
Maybe this is a Japanese cultural tradition, but it seems strange by American standards that the family discusses suicide around the dinner table. Would Shingo and his wife do it together? Would they leave a note?
There are a lot of metaphors with plants and birds as Shingo spends much of time gazing out over the garden and deciding what plants to trim or dig up. I thought this story was beautifully written. It¡¯s lyrical writing in a slow, absorbing and understated fashion.
The author (1924-1972) published many short stories and wrote a dozen-or-so novels, all of which have been translated into English. I very much enjoyed his novel, Thousand Cranes. He was a mentor to Yukio Mishima, and like Mishima may have committed suicide.
Photos: American soldiers with Japanese women, 1952, from washingtonpost.com
The author from wikipedia
How responsible do a couple approaching retirement age remain for their adult children? That¡¯s the basic theme of this story. The story is set around the time of the end of the American occupation of Japan, so say early 1950¡¯s.
This Japanese couple has a son and a daughter and both are currently living with them due to marriage problems. The daughter has her own daughter and the son and daughter-in-law both have moved in, partly for financial reasons. The son is frequently coming home late and drunk. I¡¯ll put some of their other issues in a spoiler.
Shingo, the father and main character, has a nagging wife. He and his daughter-in-law confide in each other, and in the Japanese tradition she waits on him more than his own wife does She serves him his tea and most meals, makes him an out-door fire and brings him his blanket. They seem almost in love with each other but it remains a proper relationship. When she has an abortion, she tells him first, not her mother-in-law.
Shingo tells us a couple of times through his thoughts that his wife in homely and his daughter even homelier, so her chances of finding a second husband with a child are apparently slim. Shingo still dreams of his wife¡¯s beautiful sister who died years ago.
The father and son work in the same office and the son helps his father out with work-place duties since the older man has started having ¡®senior moments.¡¯ Through work-place contacts the father keeps in touch with his son¡¯s affairs (pun intended) and learns of the goings-on with his son¡¯s mistress. He even visits the mistress at one point trying to straighten things out by offering the mistress money.
Maybe this is a Japanese cultural tradition, but it seems strange by American standards that the family discusses suicide around the dinner table. Would Shingo and his wife do it together? Would they leave a note?
There are a lot of metaphors with plants and birds as Shingo spends much of time gazing out over the garden and deciding what plants to trim or dig up. I thought this story was beautifully written. It¡¯s lyrical writing in a slow, absorbing and understated fashion.
The author (1924-1972) published many short stories and wrote a dozen-or-so novels, all of which have been translated into English. I very much enjoyed his novel, Thousand Cranes. He was a mentor to Yukio Mishima, and like Mishima may have committed suicide.
Photos: American soldiers with Japanese women, 1952, from washingtonpost.com
The author from wikipedia
August 17, 2023
It¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve written any reviews, for I always kept postponing them for one reason or another however the book- The Sound of the Mountain - has pushed me so hard to overturn this, for it was so compelling, that¡¯s why I made an attempt (futile though) to review (or rather to write something) this little gem in Japanese literature, all these things may probably give an impression (perhaps appropriate though) that it¡¯s not like returning back to some arena I enjoy. Well, let¡¯s try to write something after all that verbose rambling of words, I¡¯ve started this book late night, probably thought that I would read a few pages on the first day however I couldn¡¯t have kept it down till (very) early in the morning, of course only after I fainted due to lack of sleep, I finished the book in two days (or rather nights), in just two sittings, such was the hypnotic spell cajoled by its marvelous prose around me. While leafing through the pages, for the pace it maintained, I felt as if the book was following my thoughts, as if I¡¯m part of this magnificent world created around this majestic arrangement of words, instead of I¡¯m going after its patterns, for the thoughts seemed to be emanating from the text.
The narrator, Ogata Shingo, a 62-year old man seemed to keep losing track of life, it looks something has saddened him, probably the fact that he couldn¡¯t remember the name of maid, however, it¡¯s normal to forget things when you¡¯re losing time with every passing year but, perhaps it¡¯s not that normal for Shingo, his old memories seemed to surfaced from the deepest layers of memories on hearing sound from The Mountain , well it¡¯s perfectly normal to feel awkward when remembrances of the bygone times haunt you but the reverberation of reminiscences of past from the mountain probably symbolizes something else, something very profound, probably an omen of his impending death. The of Death has always been close to Japanese tradition, for we see the most aesthetic ways to deal with the poignant mystery death holds for human kind, for we know it¡¯s the our ultimate mingle with nothingness , which is probably our origin too, and there would be no trace of us after this most beautiful event in the entire cosmos yet we seemed to be pulled away towards it by an unknown (unseen) but profound energy, probably it¡¯s the ultimate desire of consciousness to meet the super-consciousness as it¡¯s believed in some of the Zen traditions.
Human relationships are also of those daunting conundrums which have been haunting human kind since we became civilized , or at least we think so for human beings have done most uncivilized things thereafter, or perhaps even before that, we¡¯re the most astonishing of all forms of life, as we know them, since we¡¯ve first made demonic social systems over the struggle of thousands of years to be civilized, and then those systems haunt us, rob us of our natural instincts to live an inauthentic existence, probably it's a necessity to create those systems to live as a herd, which is again contrary to human instincts, such a irony history of human evolution has been. Shingo¡¯s world has his wife, Yasuko, who is a year older than him which I don¡¯t think is of importance but its mention here probably reflects the patriarchy of society; a son- Shuichi- who showed no evidence of deprivation in matters of love and desire; his daughter-in-law, Kikuko whose relationship with Shuichi severed over the course of time due to infidelity of her husband who leaves his wife for his mistress; his daughter- Fusako and two grandchildren.
The relationship of the narrator with this son was hollow as trunk of a tree which is losing life, as a dying star loses energy, and perhaps become just a log of wood, erected though somehow due to the roots as they still have some last traces of dying life in them and which you know will die off eventually, Shingo braves himself between the heartless affairs of his son and his son's severed relationship with the family, relationship which he tries to comfort and restore by managing the infidelities of his son. The relationship of Shingo with Kikuko has evolved over time, initially the bond occurs to be made up of sympathy and deep sensuality between both of them but gradually it evolves as a deep bond of some strange human emotions, for the author do not give ample time to let it graduate to something our nomenclature of relationships relate to, however this conscious decision of the author to not to let it come out in full bloom kept interest in readers for its possible ends.
There's an intriguing irony in the book which emerges through the relationship of Shuichi with two women- while his wife has to abort her children for she feels it's superfluous to have them in a relationship which is shallow but his mistress decides to give birth her child, even though Shuichi thinks otherwise, for she thinks it her personal choice and her decision doesn't require approval of someone with whom her relationship is like a fever whose every trace evaporates as soon as the cloud of infatuation is dispersed by the light of reality.
The journey through Kawabata's masterpiece is like peeling off an onion, for human emotions are like an onion- layered, from the outer skin you got introduce to the salient features of people of Shingo's life, he may seem to have a healthy life, with a closely knitted family however as you delve yourself deep into prose by peeling off layers by layers, you found yourself deep down in the very heart of human relationships, for they are tumultuous, they are just tied with a delicate thread (of emotions) which could tear apart as we go down into their very core, the troubled life of Shingo started to feel like story of everyone with his existence exposed naked in the light of sun, where his loneliness permeated and he found solace in his unusual and curious relationship with his daughter-in-law who evolves to be his unsaid mistress, but gradually it occurs to you if it's not your life itself, it it's not the story of everyone, if it's not that you merely looking at the reflection of your own life via that of Shingo.
April 12, 2024
A very Japanese book about aging, marriage, regrets. Small, slow but a gem. I can understand why the author received the Nobel prize for literature. Again, I left it too long to be able to write a proper review .
March 26, 2011
I started reading The Sound of the Mountain late at night all alone in my bedroom. It kinda scared the crap out of me in the oppressive lonely way I get when I think too much about what other people want from other people. Is it always going to be that way? Trying too hard? Making up stories is more real. The first half I read this lonely way. The second half I read at the beach (my first beach read of 2011). I think it made it a different experience for me to be read that way, where I didn't know anyone. It became my staring into the windows, closed doors (thumb slammed in those doors) blah blah of the soul book. The sound of the waves was my sound of the mountain! Cheeeeese, Mariel. Hey, I like nature. If I were dying I'd hear songs in my head like when I was dreaming. I've always wished I could remember my dream songs when I awoke (when I was a teen I dreamed the best Cure songs Robert Smith never wrote). Maybe it'd be the river where I was born in Mississippi "the singing river". If geographical connections are made when big stuff like being born happens. So supposedly you can hear the indians singing as they were drowned by the evil white man. I'd sing some pissed off tune about dying (or relief). [NO ONE is going to understand this review, Mariel.]
The Sound of the Mountain is HUGE (not in size). I've got so many thoughts about this and there's no way I'm going to be able to touch on all of it. (Why do I have to be an idiot during important times like these?) It's one of the best books I have ever read. I may have missed a lot... That's also kinda the point (I'm not just saying that to make me feel better). It's the times when you can give more of a shit about strangers than someone who knows them or knows you could. It's not about what they can do for you.
Shingo is an old man. He's dying and the people who shouldn't be strangers to him are total strangers to him in love and affection. Shingo is losing his memory. It is telling that only his daughter-in-law, Kikuko, cares about the signs of him losing the life that flashes before his eyes in confusion. If I were his family I might not have cared either. But I'm not. It's this human thing and it doesn't matter if he was a stupid bastard who lived a whole life not living with the people he was living it with. His memories are stories of things he built outside of that, that same stranger connection. Like when you're on the train and you make up stories about the couple sitting in front of you. Books you've read.
It is depressing how much the appearance of the females in his family mean to him. Shingo wants beauty. This might have depressed the utter shit out of me if 'Sound' wasn't so so good. Shingo, his homely wife, everyone in here- it's reaching for definitions to explain what isn't there. Why strangers are able to see someone losing their life and that's the point, instead of the shit baggage of that life. They think if only their daughter had been pretty, the missing affection would have been there. They search each other for what they don't feel themselves.
Before I forget I should say that every character in this book is given life. Shingo's son, Shuichi, cheats on his wife. She has an abortion and doesn't fight for the child that she wanted. The mistress would do anything to have her own child. That was one of the HUGE things this book touched on that I wondered about a lot. One woman knew what she wanted and could have, the other wanted it all and got nothing much (Eyes in wonder here.) Her coworker who is as invested in that affair as Shingo is haunted by it.
I started writing down page numbers with meaningful passages (if this were Moby-Dick I'd be worried).
"with a heart that lay cruelly naked" Yes. (I'm really not making sense now!) Shuichi comes home drunk and desperate for something from his wife. Shingo can only make up reasons for what he may or may not hear in his son's voice. He's observing these people in his own family he doesn't really know. What Shuichi wants... who has the right to inflict that kinda painful shit on someone, ask that much? If I were Shingo, I'd have been laying awake in the dark, listening and disturbed over how much could be asked... He'd been wasted and cheating and she was just waiting.
Page 130... It's the entire page! Pick something, Mariel. This story that he dreams may have been my favorite part of the whole book.
"A girl who had an abortion at fourteen or fifteen and was at the same time a holy child was something of an oddity; but there had been a long story. Shingo's dream had read a masterpiece about pure love between a boy and a girl. His feelings were still with him when he woke at the end of the reading."
and
"A forgotten dream could not be put together again. And his feelings upon reading the novel were a dream."
I know this...
"Had a flicker of youth given him a dream of pure love in old age?"
That's also what is so huge about The Sound of the Mountain. He took that story about the abortion and he was wondering about the moments before it. Life, not consquences.
There was an awful lot of shit in this book that made me wonder about stuff I've wondered about in the past. Not all of it Japanese cultural stuff.
The suicide thing is. That husbands leave the suicide note and the wife lets the husband's note speak for her? Wow. Shuichi insulted his wife when he asked if she'd write her own note (as if they were not one). It gave the stranger feel something more that this cultural thing was outsider as being outside someone's family.
I did grow up around a very subservient marriage. My grandmother was a podperson until her husband died. They, and their children (my mom), were also as looks obsessed as Shingo. It does bug the crap out of me the necessity for a beautiful daughter. They don't want to fuck the daughter, right? So why? Shingo thinks a foriegner who is there to have sex with a Japanese boy child a monster. I couldn't help but think he was pretty creepy himself.
I've read studies about pretty babies getting held more than not pretty babies. My mom somehow decided that I was ugly and my identical twin pretty. She didn't have much to do with baby me. Looking at photos of us as kids... We were identical! What the hell? This kinda bothered me this aspect of 'Mountain'. I felt so bad for their baby granddaughter when her family give her the total shaft because they don't like how she looks. It's more than a little bit heartbreaking. The same thing happened to the elder generations of women (Shingo is still obsessed with his wife's pretty older sister who had died in her twenties. His life, in his mind, should have taken a path with her. Yiiiikes).
I couldn't help but think of Mervyn Peake's Titus Groan and Gormenghast about the grotesquely beautiful Fuchsia and Steerpike. The almost twist of doing the right thing that could have changed everything... It's not really about the looks, for all of Shingo's burning desires and soaked up sheets. Or Kikuko's generosity of kindness because it had been shown to her (it does help. I can't stand to be hugged to this day). She'd been the pampered daughter in her family and Shingo's attention is what her husband wouldn't ever give her (he only needs). I said this already, didn't I? The looks are the twist in the direction, or at least what someone can come up with explain it. I've suspected that people just make up reasons to explain where there is love and where there isn't. Just because they are blood doesn't mean it is.
The Sound of the Mountain was for me the sounds of that not listening, and those empathy times that are dreams and not your life. When the two ever get to be one. And I got hard times doing that. This did it.
It's huge though. I had more. It is hard to describe these undercurrents of relationships. What's there, imagined, how it is all real because it was real to someone. I loved how all of those were all lying next to each other.
P.s. What's with the "traditional Japanese" reputation? That's so misleading. It isn't ever traditional to dream when you're awake that you're aching feet in someone's old shoes.
The Sound of the Mountain is HUGE (not in size). I've got so many thoughts about this and there's no way I'm going to be able to touch on all of it. (Why do I have to be an idiot during important times like these?) It's one of the best books I have ever read. I may have missed a lot... That's also kinda the point (I'm not just saying that to make me feel better). It's the times when you can give more of a shit about strangers than someone who knows them or knows you could. It's not about what they can do for you.
Shingo is an old man. He's dying and the people who shouldn't be strangers to him are total strangers to him in love and affection. Shingo is losing his memory. It is telling that only his daughter-in-law, Kikuko, cares about the signs of him losing the life that flashes before his eyes in confusion. If I were his family I might not have cared either. But I'm not. It's this human thing and it doesn't matter if he was a stupid bastard who lived a whole life not living with the people he was living it with. His memories are stories of things he built outside of that, that same stranger connection. Like when you're on the train and you make up stories about the couple sitting in front of you. Books you've read.
It is depressing how much the appearance of the females in his family mean to him. Shingo wants beauty. This might have depressed the utter shit out of me if 'Sound' wasn't so so good. Shingo, his homely wife, everyone in here- it's reaching for definitions to explain what isn't there. Why strangers are able to see someone losing their life and that's the point, instead of the shit baggage of that life. They think if only their daughter had been pretty, the missing affection would have been there. They search each other for what they don't feel themselves.
Before I forget I should say that every character in this book is given life. Shingo's son, Shuichi, cheats on his wife. She has an abortion and doesn't fight for the child that she wanted. The mistress would do anything to have her own child. That was one of the HUGE things this book touched on that I wondered about a lot. One woman knew what she wanted and could have, the other wanted it all and got nothing much (Eyes in wonder here.) Her coworker who is as invested in that affair as Shingo is haunted by it.
I started writing down page numbers with meaningful passages (if this were Moby-Dick I'd be worried).
"with a heart that lay cruelly naked" Yes. (I'm really not making sense now!) Shuichi comes home drunk and desperate for something from his wife. Shingo can only make up reasons for what he may or may not hear in his son's voice. He's observing these people in his own family he doesn't really know. What Shuichi wants... who has the right to inflict that kinda painful shit on someone, ask that much? If I were Shingo, I'd have been laying awake in the dark, listening and disturbed over how much could be asked... He'd been wasted and cheating and she was just waiting.
Page 130... It's the entire page! Pick something, Mariel. This story that he dreams may have been my favorite part of the whole book.
"A girl who had an abortion at fourteen or fifteen and was at the same time a holy child was something of an oddity; but there had been a long story. Shingo's dream had read a masterpiece about pure love between a boy and a girl. His feelings were still with him when he woke at the end of the reading."
and
"A forgotten dream could not be put together again. And his feelings upon reading the novel were a dream."
I know this...
"Had a flicker of youth given him a dream of pure love in old age?"
That's also what is so huge about The Sound of the Mountain. He took that story about the abortion and he was wondering about the moments before it. Life, not consquences.
There was an awful lot of shit in this book that made me wonder about stuff I've wondered about in the past. Not all of it Japanese cultural stuff.
The suicide thing is. That husbands leave the suicide note and the wife lets the husband's note speak for her? Wow. Shuichi insulted his wife when he asked if she'd write her own note (as if they were not one). It gave the stranger feel something more that this cultural thing was outsider as being outside someone's family.
I did grow up around a very subservient marriage. My grandmother was a podperson until her husband died. They, and their children (my mom), were also as looks obsessed as Shingo. It does bug the crap out of me the necessity for a beautiful daughter. They don't want to fuck the daughter, right? So why? Shingo thinks a foriegner who is there to have sex with a Japanese boy child a monster. I couldn't help but think he was pretty creepy himself.
I've read studies about pretty babies getting held more than not pretty babies. My mom somehow decided that I was ugly and my identical twin pretty. She didn't have much to do with baby me. Looking at photos of us as kids... We were identical! What the hell? This kinda bothered me this aspect of 'Mountain'. I felt so bad for their baby granddaughter when her family give her the total shaft because they don't like how she looks. It's more than a little bit heartbreaking. The same thing happened to the elder generations of women (Shingo is still obsessed with his wife's pretty older sister who had died in her twenties. His life, in his mind, should have taken a path with her. Yiiiikes).
I couldn't help but think of Mervyn Peake's Titus Groan and Gormenghast about the grotesquely beautiful Fuchsia and Steerpike. The almost twist of doing the right thing that could have changed everything... It's not really about the looks, for all of Shingo's burning desires and soaked up sheets. Or Kikuko's generosity of kindness because it had been shown to her (it does help. I can't stand to be hugged to this day). She'd been the pampered daughter in her family and Shingo's attention is what her husband wouldn't ever give her (he only needs). I said this already, didn't I? The looks are the twist in the direction, or at least what someone can come up with explain it. I've suspected that people just make up reasons to explain where there is love and where there isn't. Just because they are blood doesn't mean it is.
The Sound of the Mountain was for me the sounds of that not listening, and those empathy times that are dreams and not your life. When the two ever get to be one. And I got hard times doing that. This did it.
It's huge though. I had more. It is hard to describe these undercurrents of relationships. What's there, imagined, how it is all real because it was real to someone. I loved how all of those were all lying next to each other.
P.s. What's with the "traditional Japanese" reputation? That's so misleading. It isn't ever traditional to dream when you're awake that you're aching feet in someone's old shoes.
August 7, 2013
As the last smell of spring faded in a flowery envelope at a nearby bin, it was time to bid adieu to Shingo Ogata. I wanted to escape from his loneliness, as if it was mine to hold to; the prospects of designing uncharted ideas somehow enticed me more than Mr. Ogata. Unaware of my goodbyes, Shingo sat in his veranda, greatly immersed in a probability of a possible quarrel between the sparrows and the buntings nestled in the majestic gingko tree. All he heard was the peculiar yet familiar roars of the mountain. Why would he bother about me closing a page on him when he could hardly remember the name of the girl he saw in his dreams, last night.
Summer has gone; and the new window did not bring the joy I thought it would. The smell of fresh paint although quite endearing, still made me reminisce my old room. The walls are same but the paint is different, the furniture has changed a bit, and the only old thing in that room besides the clock is me. I wanted to meet Shingo once again. I yearned to dwell in his loneliness, hear Yasuko snore and see Kikuko weep silent tears because of Shuichi. Shingo made me wonder the thoughts that my wrinkles would bring some day. Would my facial creases read out my wisdom or scream my fear of being old and ignored? Will it be egotistic on my part if I let go the roles I play in my family and the society as a whole and for once shine in my individuality? From the very moment a child lets out a cry in midst of a joyous room, it enters a social stage where it plays numerous roles enmeshing the tribunals of life and finally death. And during those performances, behind those responsible masks, a mere human gets lost through the fuddles voices of helplessness. Mr. Ogata gifts these thought to me, when he himself reflects between the possibilities of benevolence, love and sadness.
¡°It was like the wind, faraway, but with a depth like a rumbling of earth..... He had heard the mountain. It was as if a demon had passed, making the mountain sound out¡±.
Shingo, a man in his sixties was still fighting the demons thriving in his life. Although married to Yasuko for decades, he could not bring himself to understand his wife and the marriage in its entirety. His heart belonged somewhere, to someone from his past. A true family patriarch (as seen in many Asian familial cultures), he donned the responsibility of cementing his family and his children¡¯s life to a happy trouble-free structure. Yet, somehow on the path of playing the roles of a husband, a father and grandfather; Shingo stopped searching the true essence of being an individual. Unlike the gingko tree up in the mountain that puts out new leaves in place of its weathered typhoon marred branches, Shingo was afraid of the changes that his life years were bringing in. Kawabata delineates the landscape of Kamakura thriving on the cusp of Japanese modernization and the aftermath of WWII. The old generation makes way for the new and along with the reigning youth comes a vast package of new ideals and life style. The intricacies of arrange marriages that sometimes become more of carried social responsibilities rather than a lovable union. The secrecy of abortion, the pressure of a fertile womb, the pain and anger for a burgeoning fetus in a strange womb and the onset of divorce; was seeping into the traditions threatening the foundation of being a 'successful father'.
Shingo finds himself stuck between the ¡°selfish bonds of his blood¡± and his loyalty to his family when he tries to comfort himself with the ending of Shuichi¡¯s (his son) extramarital affair.
¡°Shingo was astonished at his son¡¯s spiritual paralysis and decay, but it seemed to him that he was caught in the same filthy slough. Dark terror swept over him.¡±
Although Shingo¡¯s loyalty was towards his children, he also felt an immense sense of guilt towards Kikuko (Shuichi¡¯s wife), a woman who understood Shingo and his sentimentalities.
¡°In all his life no woman had so loved as to want him to notice everything she did¡±.
Kawabata crafts the relationship between Shingo and Kikuko beautifully on the cutting edge of sensuality and sympathy. Both the characters thrive separately in their miseries and still somehow in a bizarre way find a spiritual connection with each other, making the reader curious for the unheard. At times kindness becomes the nectar that saves from the trenches of loneliness. Maybe, Kikuko¡¯s subtle pampering of Shingo¡¯s needs and a most awaited ear to listen to his dilemmas, in some ways shielded Shingo from hearing the deathly roars of the mountain and marvel at the rows of blooming acacias.
¡°What had been killed by the war had not come to life again. It seemed too that his way of thinking was as the war had left it, pushed into a narrow kind of common sense...."
Kawabata metaphorically symbolizes the ending of the war with the conclusion of old and beginning of the new. With it comes the demise of youthfulness and the seclusion that overwhelms old age. The ¡°ugliness of old age¡±, the desperate need to find refuge in death , the loss of will to live and the nakedness of dying while being loved rather than living without love ; it is all so disheartening. A reality that is far shoddier from being a mellow isolation. As the novels deepens into the torrid mind of Shingo, one can see the disabilities face by the aging generation with questions looming over them, whether being successful parents with happy families or the illusion of a rearing youth would make them senile or just a divine sanctuary from life¡¯s tragedies.
"Turning a Noh mask slightly downward is known as "clouding," explained Suzumoto, because the mask takes on a melancholy aspect; and turning it up is known as "shining, because the expression becomes bright and happy. Turning it to the left or the right, he added, is known as "using¡± or "cutting" or something of the sort....."Children were precocious in those days. And a real child's face would be wrong for the Noh. But look at it carefully. It's a boy. I'm told that the jido is a sprite of some sort. Probably a symbol of eternal youth".
Kawabata symbolizes the embellished mask as the symbol of eternal youth, a facet of life that haunted the characters in this book. One can cheat by dyeing the hair black or plucking white hairs, but as Shingo says, ¡°the ugliness of old age is more horrid than adultery¡± . In a ¡°marsh-like¡± arranged marriage where the wife automatically dissolves in her husband¡¯s identity to become one solid societal structure it is sometimes better to ¡°die when you still loved¡±.
Rather than putting Shingo as an operational actor in this novel, Kawabata deliberately lets Shingo¡¯s perception about life and its nuances acts as the protagonists and making the psyche take the centre stage rather than the body. Similar to the solitary crow that descended on a naked branch on an autumn evening, mulishly waiting for spring to come and the great Gingko tree that shoots buds after a stormy night, Shingo Ogata stood tall through all the guilt, responsibilities and skepticism that life bestowed upon him.
Comprehending ¡®Sound of the Mountain¡¯ is like looking in the mirror. At the very first sight you see a visage generally viewed by people. And as you keep staring at the portrayed image, you start noticing the deep embedded colour of your eyes when it is lit amid the sun rays, the smallest freckle on your forehead, the imperfect mole on your cheek, the tapering end of your mouth that curves when you smile with sheer joy , the lines in between your eyes that deepen each time you frown and lips that are dying to mouth the word ¡°crazy¡± while you keep staring into the mirror, and ultimately it hits you that the image of your face is full of stories and memories of the past and is never afraid to display new changes over the course of your life irrespective to your struggles to accept it. At first it may scare you, it may saddened you but, at the end it will make you understand the very nature of being YOU.
** Shingo and Kikuko portrayed by Japanese actors in Mikio Naruse aesthetically brilliant rendition of Kawabata's novel.
March 15, 2015
Kawabata uses Ogata Shingo as his narrator and prime character to tell the story of a 62-year-old man immersed in unhappiness, who feels death closing in on him. Shingo lives with his wife, Yasuko (the plain sister of the beautiful woman who was, in his youth, his one true love); his son, Shuichi who ignores his wife for his mistress; and resentful daughter whose own marriage has failed. He has long ceased to love Yasuko, more highly regarding the relationship with his young and innocent daughter- in- law, Kikuko, as the only bit of life and happiness in his aging years. Kawabata's sympathetic treatment warms Shingo's character in spite of his flaws ; his natural sense of life allows us to see his world, and empathize.
Stopped in his path to gaze:
The crown of a sunflower's head,
A wish for Renewal.*
Through Kawabata's beautifully written Haiku-style prose: the marital struggles of Shingo's daughter Fusako; the loneliness and melancholy of Kikuko's disappointing marriage to Shuichi, whose aloofness and unfaithfulness are shaped from the male-egoist facility of Japanese society of the time: are closely observed.
Deep are their hearts in sadness;
Spring blooms have left the garden,
And weeds are sown instead.*
Shingo who , in a fleeting moment, might forget how to fasten his tie or recall the day's activities with difficulty, yet with the minutest detail, could conjure up with vividness a love long dead. Life in Shingo's perception moves in a flow of days, events and actions that waltz back and forth in time, as the placement of sounds are linked with a slip of the mind; a dim remembrance; a glimpse of a bygone association; a shadow of an earlier scene; a memory evoked by a flash of light or resonating timbre.
Faint echoes blow in the wind.
The distant mountain rumbles;
An old man's faded memory.*
is a heartfelt psychological study of the dynamics of a multigenerational family, seen through the eyes of an aging patriarch who feels the burden of responsibility for his children, and tries unsuccessfully to fix their problems.
Autumn has begun;
The buds from the gingko tree
Cannot be mature.*
Kawabata's novel is a poetic tapestry of human relations, of the beauty and sadness inherent in nature, of life and death, of memories and lost loves fading in and out. is a cluster of allusions beautifully presented in haiku tones. This was the best I've read so far of Yasunari Kawabata -it is truly an artistic literary gift!
* my-aiku
Read Sept 2014
Stopped in his path to gaze:
The crown of a sunflower's head,
A wish for Renewal.*
Through Kawabata's beautifully written Haiku-style prose: the marital struggles of Shingo's daughter Fusako; the loneliness and melancholy of Kikuko's disappointing marriage to Shuichi, whose aloofness and unfaithfulness are shaped from the male-egoist facility of Japanese society of the time: are closely observed.
Deep are their hearts in sadness;
Spring blooms have left the garden,
And weeds are sown instead.*
Shingo who , in a fleeting moment, might forget how to fasten his tie or recall the day's activities with difficulty, yet with the minutest detail, could conjure up with vividness a love long dead. Life in Shingo's perception moves in a flow of days, events and actions that waltz back and forth in time, as the placement of sounds are linked with a slip of the mind; a dim remembrance; a glimpse of a bygone association; a shadow of an earlier scene; a memory evoked by a flash of light or resonating timbre.
Faint echoes blow in the wind.
The distant mountain rumbles;
An old man's faded memory.*
is a heartfelt psychological study of the dynamics of a multigenerational family, seen through the eyes of an aging patriarch who feels the burden of responsibility for his children, and tries unsuccessfully to fix their problems.
Autumn has begun;
The buds from the gingko tree
Cannot be mature.*
Kawabata's novel is a poetic tapestry of human relations, of the beauty and sadness inherent in nature, of life and death, of memories and lost loves fading in and out. is a cluster of allusions beautifully presented in haiku tones. This was the best I've read so far of Yasunari Kawabata -it is truly an artistic literary gift!
* my-aiku
Read Sept 2014
July 23, 2016
Seemingly nothing is happening. Shingo Ogata goes to his office , on his way back does shopping, for a while thinking about the girl who used to work for him but now apparently forgot her name. Nothing special .Ordinary life.
But something¡¯s happened. Shingo heard a sound of mountain and its voice awaked in him old memories .Its sound symbolizes impending death.
Shingo takes us then on a nostalgic journey to the past,to the world of memories and unfulfilled dreams .Painfully aware of loss so many things takes a trip down memory lane, meditates about passage of the time ,observing nature and the changing seasons , world of plants, bonzai and flowering cherry trees , clones .
Kawabata in detail depictures the world of dreams and daily rituals of old man , drinking tea, daily toilets , images observed during the train ride to his office. Explores the loneliness of the old man and the story of his family with its difficult relationships. Shuichi ,Shingo's son is having an affair , daughter Fusako leaves her husband .
Special attention Shingo gives to his daughter in law Kikuko . Both are a very dedicated to themselves , and Shingo is enchanted by the beautiful and fragile son¡¯s wife, not only her beauty , but still inherent in her childishness and innocence.This feeling overlaps with memories of his youthful love.
This is a poignant story with unhurried narration , almost meditative pace .Style is laconic and brief, language plain ,no embellishments ,no sudden twists . Tale runs quietly , as the days go by life. We can almost feel elusiveness of the life. Something remains unsaid .The book , so subtle and nostalgic , awakes your sensitivity.
June 19, 2019
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July 28, 2023
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§¯§à §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §ß§Ö §Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ä §å§ã§á§à§Ü§à§Ú§ä§î§ã§ñ - §Ó§Ö§Õ§î §â§Ö§é§î §Ú§Õ§×§ä §à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ö §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú! §°§ß §ß§Ö §å§Õ§à§Ó§Ý§Ö§ä§Ó§à§â§ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §Ö§Ö §Ù§Ñ§Ó§Ö§â§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ§Þ§Ú, §é§ä§à §à§ß§Ñ §ß§Ö §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §à§Ò§â§Ñ§ë§Ñ§ä§î§ã§ñ §Ü §Ö§Ô§à §ã§Ö§Þ§î§Ö §ß§Ú §ã §Ü§Ñ§Ü§Ú§Þ§Ú §Þ§à§Ý§î§Ò§Ñ§Þ§Ú §Ú §á§â§à§ã§î§Ò§Ñ§Þ§Ú. §°§ß §ß§Ñ§ã§ä§Ñ§Ú§Ó§Ñ§Ö§ä: "§ß§Ú§é§ä§à §ß§Ö §Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ä §â§Ñ§Ù§à§â§Ó§Ñ§ä§î §â§à§Õ§ã§ä§Ó§Ö§ß§ß§í§Ö §å§Ù§í §à§ä§è§Ñ §Ú §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ñ".
§´§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §Ö§Û §à§ã§ä§Ñ§×§ä§ã§ñ §ä§à§Ý§î§Ü§à §ã§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§ä§î, §é§ä§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§à§Ü §ß§Ö §à§ä §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú. §±§à §Ú§ß§Ö§â§è§Ú§Ú §Ú §é§ä§à§Ò§í §á§â§Ú§ã§ä§í§Õ§Ú§ä§î, §à§ß §á§â§à§Õ§à§Ý§Ø§Ñ§Ö§ä §Þ§í§ã§Ý§î, §ã§à§à§Ò§ë§Ú§Ó, §é§ä§à §¬§Ú§Ü§å§ä§Ú §ã§Õ§Ö§Ý§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §Ñ§Ò§à§â§ä. §¬§Ú§ß§å§Ü§à §à§ä§Þ§Ö§é§Ñ§Ö§ä, §é§ä§à §à§ß§Ñ §ã§Ü§à§Ý§î §å§Ô§à§Õ§ß§à §Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ä §Ù§Ñ§Ò§Ö§â§Ö§Þ§Ö§ß§Ö§ä§î §ã§ß§à§Ó§Ñ §Ó §ã§é§Ñ§ã§ä§Ý§Ú§Ó§à§Þ §Ò§â§Ñ§Ü§Ö, §Ñ §ß§Ö §ã§Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ä - §ä§Ñ§Ü §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §ã§à§Ø§Ñ§Ý§Ö§ä§î §à§Ò §Ñ§Ò§à§â§ä§Ö §Ó§ã§ð §Ø§Ú§Ù§ß§î.
§°§ß§Ñ §â§Ñ§ã§ã§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§Ý§Ñ, §é§ä§à §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú §ä§â§Ö§Ò§à§Ó§Ñ§Ý, §é§ä§à§Ò§í §à§ß§Ñ §ß§Ö §â§à§Ø§Ñ§Ý§Ñ, §Ò§Ú§Ý §Ö§Ö §ß§à§Ô§Ñ§Þ§Ú, §Ó§à§Ý§à§é§Ú§Ý §á§à §Ý§Ö§ã§ä§ß§Ú§è§Ö §ã§à §Ó§ä§à§â§à§Ô§à §ï§ä§Ñ§Ø§Ñ, §á§í§ä§Ñ§ñ§ã§î §à§ä§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§Ú §Ö§Ö §Ü §Ó§â§Ñ§é§å. §¿§ä§Ú§Þ§Ú §Õ§Ú§Ü§Ú§Þ§Ú §Ó§í§ç§à§Õ§Ü§Ñ§Þ§Ú §à§ß §á§à§Ý§ß§à§ã§ä§î§ð §Ú§ã§Ü§å§á§Ú§Ý §ã§Ó§à§ð §Ó§Ú§ß§å §á§Ö§â§Ö§Õ §Ø§Ö§ß§à§Û. §¿§ä§à§ä §Õ§Ú§Ñ§Ý§à§Ô - §Ü§å§Ý§î§Þ§Ú§ß§Ñ§è§Ú§ñ §Ó§ã§Ö§Ô§à §ß§Ñ§Ü§Ñ§á§Ý§Ú§Ó§Ñ§ð§ë§Ö§Ô§à§ã§ñ §ã §ß§Ñ§é§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §â§à§Þ§Ñ§ß§Ñ §Ü§à§ß§æ§Ý§Ú§Ü§ä§Ñ, §Ú §à§ß §á§à§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§ä§Ö§Ý§Ö§ß §Õ§Ý§ñ §á§Ñ§ä§â§Ú§Ñ§â§ç§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§à§Ô§à §Þ§í§ê§Ý§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ, §Ü§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §Ý§Ú§ê§î §Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§ß§í§Ö §Õ§Ö§ä§Ú §Ú §Ó§ß§å§Ü§Ú §Ú§Þ§Ö§ð§ä §á§â§Ñ§Ó§à §ß§Ñ §à§ä§è§Ñ. §°§ä§è§Ñ, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Û §Ô§å§Ý§ñ§Ö§ä §Ú §Ú§Ù§Þ§Ö§ß§ñ§Ö§ä §Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§ß§à§Û §Ø§Ö§ß§Ö, §Ú §é§î§Ö§Û "§à§ä§Ó§Ö§ä§ã§ä§Ó§Ö§ß§ß§à§ã§ä§Ú" §ç§Ó§Ñ§ä§Ñ§Ö§ä §ä§à§Ý§î§Ü§à §ß§Ñ §ä§à, §é§ä§à§Ò§í §à§ä§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§ä§î§ã§ñ §à§ä §ß§Ö§Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§ß§à§Ô§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ñ §Ö§ë§× §Ó §å§ä§â§à§Ò§Ö §å §Þ§Ñ§ä§Ö§â§Ú, §Ò§Ú§ä§î §Ö§Ö §Ú §á§â§Ú§ß§å§Ø§Õ§Ñ§ä§î §Ö§Ö §Ü §Ñ§Ò§à§â§ä§å.
§³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §à§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§Ý§ñ§Ö§ä §Ö§Û §é§Ö§Ü, §Ú §à§ß§Ñ §ß§Ö §à§ä§Ü§Ñ§Ù§í§Ó§Ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §Ö§Ô§à §á§â§Ú§ß§ñ§ä§î. §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §ß§Ö§Ô§Ý§å§á §Ú §à§ä§Ý§Ú§é§ß§à §á§à§ß§Ú§Þ§Ñ§Ö§ä, §é§ä§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§à§Ü §à§ä §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú. §¯§à §é§ä§à §Ø§Ö §Õ§Ö§Ý§Ñ§ä§î? §°§ß §â§Ö§ê§Ñ§Ö§ä §ß§Ú§é§Ö§Ô§à §ß§Ö §Õ§Ö§Ý§Ñ§ä§î, §á§å§ã§ä§î §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú §á§à§Ó§Ö§â§Ú§ä, §ß§à §à§ß, §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à, §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §Ù§ß§Ñ§ä§î, §é§ä§à §á§à§ã§Ý§Ö §Ö§Ô§à §ã§Þ§Ö§â§ä§Ú §å §ß§Ö§Ô§à §à§ã§ä§Ñ§ß§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §ß§Ö§Ú§Ù§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§ß§í§Û §Ó§ß§å§Ü §Ú §Ö§Ô§à §Ø§Ú§Ù§ß§î §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §ã§å§â§à§Ó§Ñ.
§³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §Þ§å§é§Ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ. §°§ß §á§à-§ã§Ó§à§Ö§Þ§å §á§à§â§ñ§Õ§à§é§Ö§ß: "§¬§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §á§â§à§Ú§Ù§à§ê§Ý§Ñ §ï§ä§Ñ §Ú§ã§ä§à§â§Ú§ñ §ã §ã§Ñ§Þ§à§å§Ò§Ú§Û§ã§ä§Ó§à§Þ §¡§Ú§ç§Ñ§â§Ñ, §ñ §á§à§ä§à§â§à§á§Ú§Ý§ã§ñ §à§ä§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ú§ä§î §Ù§Ñ§ñ§Ó§Ý§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö §à §â§Ñ§Ù§Ó§à§Õ§Ö §Ú §à§Ü§à§ß§é§Ñ§ä§Ö§Ý§î§ß§à §Ó§Ù§ñ§Ý §Ü §ã§Ö§Ò§Ö §Õ§à§é§î §ã §Õ§Ó§å§Þ§ñ §Õ§Ö§ä§î§Þ§Ú. §¡ §ã§Ö§Û§é§Ñ§ã, §ç§à§ä§ñ §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú §Ú §â§Ñ§ã§ã§ä§Ñ§Ý§ã§ñ §ã §Ý§ð§Ò§à§Ó§ß§Ú§è§Ö§Û, §Ô§Õ§Ö-§ä§à §Ó§ã§Ö §Ø§Ö §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §Ø§Ú§ä§î §Ö§Ô§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§à§Ü,?¨C §â§Ñ§Ù§Ó§Ö §ï§ä§à §ã§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ö§Õ§Ý§Ú§Ó§à? §¬§Ñ§Ø§Õ§à§Ö §Ú§Ù §ï§ä§Ú§ç §â§Ö§ê§Ö§ß§Ú§Û §ß§Ö §â§Ö§ê§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö ¨C §ä§Ñ§Ü, §Ó§â§Ö§Þ§Ö§ß§ß§à§Ö §Ù§Ñ§Ý§Ñ§ä§í§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ú§Ö §Õ§í§â."
§³§Ö§Ô§à§Õ§ß§ñ §Þ§í §á§à§ß§Ú§Þ§Ñ§Ö§Þ, §é§ä§à §Õ§Ý§ñ §ä§à§Ô§à, §é§ä§à§Ò§í §Ø§Ú§Ù§ß§î §ß§Ö§Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§ß§í§ç §Õ§Ö§ä§Ö§Û §ß§Ö §Ò§í§Ý§Ñ §ã§å§â§à§Ó§Ñ, §ß§å§Ø§ß§à §Ü§Ñ§Ü §Þ§Ú§ß§Ú§Þ§å§Þ §â§Ñ§Ó§ß§à§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ú§Ö §Ø§Ö§ß§ë§Ú§ß, §Ú §Ó §á§Ö§â§Ó§å§ð §à§é§Ö§â§Ö§Õ§î §Ó §à§á§Ý§Ñ§ä§Ö §ä§â§å§Õ§Ñ §Ú §Õ§à§ã§ä§å§á§ß§à§ã§ä§Ú §Ü§Ñ§â§î§Ö§â§ß§í§ç §Ó§í§ã§à§ä, §é§Ö§Ô§à §ã§Ö§Û§é§Ñ§ã §Õ§Ñ§Ø§Ö §Ó §â§Ñ§Ù§Ó§Ú§ä§í§ç §ã§ä§â§Ñ§ß§Ñ§ç §ß§Ö§ä. §¥§Ý§ñ §Ó§â§Ö§Þ§Ö§ß§Ú §¬§Ñ§Ó§Ñ§Ò§Ñ§ä§í §ã§Ñ§Þ§Ñ §á§à§ã§ä§Ñ§ß§à§Ó§Ü§Ñ §Ó§à§á§â§à§ã§Ñ §Ú §à§Ò§ß§Ñ§â§å§Ø§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö §ä§å§á§Ú§Ü§Ñ §á§â§Ú §Ý§ð§Ò§à§Þ §â§Ñ§ã§Ü§Ý§Ñ§Õ§Ö §Ò§í§Ý§Ñ §â§Ö§Ó§à§Ý§ð§è§Ú§à§ß§ß§Ñ.
§¬§ß§Ú§Ô§Ñ §á§â§à§ß§Ú§Ù§Ñ§ß§Ñ §á§Ö§é§Ñ§Ý§î§ð, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§Ñ§ñ §ß§Ñ§Ó§Ö§ñ§ß§Ñ §à§ë§å§ë§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö§Þ §Ò§Ö§Ù§Ó§à§Ù§Ó§â§Ñ§ä§ß§à§ã§ä§Ú §á§â§à§Ø§Ú§ä§í§ç §Ý§Ö§ä, §ã§ä§â§Ñ§ç§à§Þ §ã§ä§Ñ§â§à§ã§ä§Ú, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Û §Ú§ã§á§í§ä§í§Ó§Ñ§Ö§ä §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à. §³ §Õ§â§å§Ô§à§Û §ã§ä§à§â§à§ß§í, §á§Ö§é§Ñ§Ý§î §ß§Ñ§Ó§Ö§Ó§Ñ§Ö§ä §Ó§à§Û§ß§Ñ, §á§à§ß§Ú§Þ§Ñ§ß§Ú§Ö §ä§à§Ô§à, §é§ä§à §Þ§Ú§â §å§Ø§Ö §ß§Ö §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä, §Ü§Ñ§Ü §á§â§Ö§Ø§Õ§Ö. §±§Ö§é§Ñ§Ý§î§ð §á§â§à§ß§Ú§Ù§Ñ§ß§í §Ú §á§à§ã§Ö§ë§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ §á§â§Ú§ñ§ä§Ö§Ý§ñ §ã §â§Ñ§Ü§à§Þ §á§Ö§é§Ö§ß§Ú §Ó §Ò§à§Ý§î§ß§Ú§è§Ö, §Ú §ã§ß§í §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à, §Ú §Ü§Ñ§â§ä§Ú§ß§Ñ "§®§â§Ñ§é§ß§í§Û §Ó§à§â§à§ß §Ó §â§Ñ§ã§ã§Ó§Ö§ä§ß§à§Û §Þ§Ô§Ý§Ö, §Þ§Ñ§Û§ã§Ü§Ú§Û §Õ§à§Ø§Õ§î. §¯§à§Ò§à§â§Ú." §Ú §â§Ñ§Ù§Ó§Ú§Ó§Ñ§ð§ë§Ñ§ñ§ã§ñ §Ù§Ñ§Ò§í§Ó§é§Ú§Ó§à§ã§ä§î, §Ú, §Ü§à§ß§Ö§é§ß§à, §ã§ä§à§ß §Ô§à§â§í, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Û §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §ã§Ý§í§ê§Ú§ä §Ú §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Û §ñ§Ó§Ý§ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §á§â§Ö§Õ§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§ß§Ú§Ü§à§Þ §ã§Þ§Ö§â§ä§Ú.
§±§à§Þ§Ú§Þ§à §á§Ö§é§Ñ§Ý§Ú, §Ó§Ñ§Ø§ß§Ñ§ñ §ï§ã§ä§Ö§ä§Ú§é§Ö§ã§Ü§Ñ§ñ §ã§à§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§Ý§ñ§ð§ë§Ñ§ñ §â§à§Þ§Ñ§ß§Ñ - §ã§á§à§ã§à§Ò§ß§à§ã§ä§î §Ù§Ñ§Þ§Ö§é§Ñ§ä§î §Ü§â§Ñ§ã§à§ä§å. §¤§Ö§â§à§Ú §à§Ò§ã§å§Ø§Õ§Ñ§ð§ä §è§Ó§Ö§ä§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö §Ó§Ú§ê§ß§Ú §Ú §Ý§à§ä§à§ã§Ñ, §ß§Ñ§Ò§Ý§ð§Õ§Ñ§ð§ä §è§Ó§Ö§ä§í §Ñ§Ü§Ñ§è§Ú§Ú, §ã§á§Ú§Ý§Ú§Ó§Ñ§ð§ä §Ó§Ö§ä§Ó§Ú §Ñ§â§à§ß§Ú§Ú, §â§Ñ§ã§ã§Þ§Ñ§ä§â§Ú§Ó§Ñ§ð§ä §á§à§Õ§ã§à§Ý§ß§å§ç§Ú.
§´§à§ß§Ü§Ú§Ö §æ§Ú§Ý§à§ã§à§æ§ã§Ü§Ú§Ö §â§Ñ§Ù§Þ§í§ê§Ý§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ, §ß§Ö§Ò§â§à§ã§Ü§Ñ§ñ §Ô§Ý§å§Ò§Ú§ß§Ñ §Þ§í§ã§Ý§Ö§Û, §ï§ã§ä§Ö§ä§Ú§é§Ö§ã§Ü§Ñ§ñ §á§â§Ú§ä§ñ§Ô§Ñ§ä§Ö§Ý§î§ß§à§ã§ä§î §ã§à§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§Ý§ñ§ð§ä §ß§Ö§Ø§ß§í§Û §Ñ§Ü§Ó§Ñ§â§Ö§Ý§î§ß§í§Û §æ§à§ß §á§à§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§Ó§à§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ú§ð.
§³§ð§Ø§Ö§ä §ß§Ö§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ú§ã§ä §Ú §Õ§â§Ö§Ó§Ö§ß, §Ü§Ñ§Ü §Þ§Ú§â. §¢§à§Ý§î§ê§Ñ§ñ §á§Ñ§ä§â§Ú§Ñ§â§ç§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§Ñ§ñ §ã§Ö§Þ§î§ñ §Ø§Ú§Ó§×§ä §ß§Ñ §Õ§Ó§Ñ §á§à§Ü§à§Ý§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ §á§à§Õ §à§Õ§ß§à§Û §Ü§â§í§ê§Ö§Û. §°§ä§Ö§è §ã§Ö§Þ§Ö§Û§ã§ä§Ó§Ñ 62-§Ý§Ö§ä§ß§Ú§Û §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §ã §ã§í§ß§à§Þ §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú §â§Ñ§Ò§à§ä§Ñ§ð§ä §Ó§Þ§Ö§ã§ä§Ö, §ã§í§ß §Ô§å§Ý§ñ§Ö§ä, §Ú§Þ§Ö§Ö§ä §Ý§ð§Ò§à§Ó§ß§Ú§è§å. §°§ä§Ö§è §á§í§ä§Ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §Ó§í§Ù§ß§Ñ§ä§î §å §ã§Ö§Ü§â§Ö§ä§Ñ§â§ê§Ú, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§Ñ§ñ §Ù§ß§Ñ§Ö§ä §Ý§ð§Ò§à§Ó§ß§Ú§è§å, §Ô§Õ§Ö §ä§Ñ §Ø§Ú§Ó§×§ä §Ú §á§â§à§é§Ú§Ö §á§à§Õ§â§à§Ò§ß§à§ã§ä§Ú, §á§à§Ò§à§Ý§î§ê§Ö §à§Ò §à§ä§ß§à§ê§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ§ç §Ö§Ô§à §ã§í§ß§Ñ §ã §ß§Ö§Û. §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §Õ§Ö§Ý§Ú§Ü§Ñ§ä§Ö§ß §Ú §Õ§Ö§Ý§Ñ§Ö§ä §ï§ä§à, §á§â§Ú§Ô§Ý§Ñ§ã§Ú§Ó §ã§Ö§Ü§â§Ö§ä§Ñ§â§ê§å §Ó §Õ§Ñ§ß§ã§Ú§ß§Ô. §°§ß §ã§Ú§Þ§á§Ñ§ä§Ú§Ù§Ú§â§å§Ö§ä §ß§Ö§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§Ü§Ö §¬§Ú§Ü§å§Ü§à - §à§ß§Ú §Ø§Ú§Ó§å§ä §Õ§å§ê§Ñ §Ó §Õ§å§ê§å, §Õ§Ñ§â§ñ§ä §Õ§â§å§Ô §Õ§â§å§Ô§å §á§à§Õ§Ñ§â§Ü§Ú, §Ù§Ñ§Ò§à§ä§ñ§ä§ã§ñ. §¯§Ö§ã§Þ§à§ä§â§ñ §ß§Ñ §Õ§Ö§Ý§Ú§Ü§Ñ§ä§ß§à§ã§ä§î, §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §Õ§Ñ§Ý §á§à§ß§ñ§ä§î §ß§Ö§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§Ü§Ö, §é§ä§à §Ó §Ü§å§â§ã§Ö, §é§ä§à §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú §ß§Ö §á§â§Ú§Õ§Ö§ä §Ü §å§Ø§Ú§ß§å, §Ü§å§á§Ú§Ó §ä§â§Ú §â§Ñ§Ü§à§Ó§Ú§ß§í §Þ§à§Ý§Ý§ð§ã§Ü§à§Ó. §¯§Ö§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§Ü§Ñ §Ò§Ö§â§Ö§Þ§Ö§ß§Ö§Ö§ä, §ß§à §Ö§Ö §Ó§í§ã§à§Ü§Ú§Ö §Þ§à§â§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§í§Ö §ã§ä§Ñ§ß§Õ§Ñ§â§ä§í §ß§Ö §á§à§Ù§Ó§à§Ý§ñ§ð§ä §Ú§Þ§Ö§ä§î §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ñ, §Ü§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §Þ§å§Ø §Ô§å§Ý§ñ§Ö§ä. §´§à§Ý§î§Ü§à §Ý§Ú §Ó §Þ§à§â§Ñ§Ý§Ú §Õ§Ö§Ý§à? §°§ß§Ñ §Õ§Ö§Ý§Ñ§Ö§ä §Ñ§Ò§à§â§ä. §¥§Ö§ß§î§Ô§Ú §ß§Ñ §Ñ§Ò§à§â§ä §à§ß§Ñ §á§â§à§ã§Ú§ä §å §Þ§å§Ø§Ñ, §Ñ §ä§à§ä §á§â§à§ã§Ú§ä §å §Ý§ð§Ò§à§Ó§ß§Ú§è§í, §ä§Ñ§Ü §é§ä§à §à§ß§Ñ §á§à§Ý§å§é§Ñ§Ö§ä §Õ§à§á§à§Ý§ß§Ú§ä§Ö§Ý§î§ß§å§ð §á§à§â§è§Ú§ð §å§ß§Ú§Ø§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ. §¡ §Ý§ð§Ò§à§Ó§ß§Ú§è§Ñ §¬§Ú§ß§å§Ü§à §ç§à§é§Ö§ä §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ñ. §£§Ö§ã§î §Ó §ã§à§Þ§ß§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ§ç §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §á§â§Ú§ç§à§Õ§Ú§ä §ã §ß§Ö§Û §á§à§Ô§à§Ó§à§â§Ú§ä§î.
"§¬§Ñ§Ü §Þ§à§Ø§ß§à §Ò§Ö§â§Ö§Þ§Ö§ß§ß§à§Û §Ø§Ö§ß§ë§Ú§ß§Ö, §ã §Ü§à§ä§à§â§à§Û §Ó§Ú§Õ§Ú§ê§î§ã§ñ §Ó §á§Ö§â§Ó§í§Û §â§Ñ§Ù, §à§ä§â§Ö§Ù§Ñ§ä§î: §ß§Ö §â§à§Ø§Ñ§Û?
¨C?§¹§Ö§Þ §ï§ä§à §Ý§å§é§ê§Ö §à§Ò§í§Ü§ß§à§Ó§Ö§ß§ß§à§Ô§à §å§Ò§Ú§Û§ã§ä§Ó§Ñ? §¥§à§Ý§Ø§Ö§ß §Ý§Ú §ã§ä§Ñ§â§Ú§Ü §á§Ñ§é§Ü§Ñ§ä§î §ã§Ö§Ò§Ö §ï§ä§Ú§Þ §â§å§Ü§Ú??"
§¬§Ñ§Ó§Ñ§Ò§Ñ§ä§Ñ §ã §á§â§ñ§Þ§à§Ý§Ú§ß§Ö§Û§ß§à§Û §á§Ñ§ä§â§Ú§Ñ§â§ç§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§à§Û §Ý§à§Ô§Ú§Ü§à§Û §Ó§í§ß§à§ã§Ú§ä §á§â§Ú§Ô§à§Ó§à§â - §ß§Ö §Ò§í§ä§î §ï§ä§à§Û §Ø§Ö§ß§ë§Ú§ß§Ö §ã§é§Ñ§ã§ä§Ý§Ú§Ó§à§Û §á§â§Ú §Ý§ð§Ò§à§Þ §â§Ñ§ã§Ü§Ý§Ñ§Õ§Ö.
§±§à§Õ§â§å§Ô§Ú §¬§Ú§ß§å§Ü§à §Ú §ª§Ü§ï§Õ§Ñ - §Ó§Õ§à§Ó§í §á§à§Ô§Ú§Ò§ê§Ú§ç §ã§à§Ý§Õ§Ñ§ä, §ß§à §à§ß§Ú §ß§Ö §Ó§à§Ù§Ó§â§Ñ§ä§Ú§Ý§Ú§ã§î §Ü §ã§Ó§à§Ú§Þ §â§à§Õ§Ú§ä§Ö§Ý§ñ§Þ . §°§ß§Ú §â§Ö§ê§Ú§Ý§Ú §ß§Ñ§á§Ö§â§Ö§Ü§à§â §á§Ñ§ä§â§Ú§Ñ§â§ç§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§à§Þ§å §å§Ü§Ý§Ñ§Õ§å, §ã§ä§Ñ§ä§î §ã§Ó§à§Ò§à§Õ§ß§í§Þ§Ú - §¬§Ú§ß§å§Ü§à §ç§à§ä§î §Ú §â§Ñ§Ò§à§ä§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §Ó §Õ§Ñ§ß§ã§Ú§ß§Ô§Ö, §é§Ú§ä§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §æ§â§Ñ§ß§è§å§Ù§ã§Ü§Ú§Ö §Ú §Ñ§Þ§Ö§â§Ú§Ü§Ñ§ß§ã§Ü§Ú§Ö §Ø§å§â§ß§Ñ§Ý§í §Ü§â§à§Û§Ü§Ú §Ú §ê§Ú§ä§î§ñ. §¯§Ñ§Ó§Ö§â§ß§à§Ö, §à§ß§Ñ §ã§Ü§à§â§à §à§ä§Ü§â§à§Ö§ä §ã§Ó§à§Û §ã§Ñ§Ý§à§ß.
§¯§Ñ §Ó§à§á§â§à§ã§í §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à, §à§ß§Ñ §ã §Õ§à§ã§ä§à§Ú§ß§ã§ä§Ó§à§Þ §Ú §ä§Ó§Ö§â§Õ§à §à§ä§Ó§Ö§é§Ñ§Ö§ä, §é§ä§à §à§ß§Ñ §Ó§Õ§à§Ó§Ñ §á§à§Ô§Ú§Ò§ê§Ö§Ô§à §Ó§à§Ö§ß§ß§à§Ô§à, §â§Ö§ê§Ú§Ó§ê§Ñ§ñ §â§à§Õ§Ú§ä§î §Ó§ß§Ö§Ò§â§Ñ§é§ß§à§Ô§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ñ §Ú §ß§Ú§Ü§ä§à §ß§Ö §Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ä §á§à§Þ§Ö§ê§Ñ§ä§î §Ö§Û.
§³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §ß§Ñ§ã§ä§Ñ§Ú§Ó§Ñ§Ö§ä: "¨C?§£§Ñ§ê§Ú §à§ä§ß§à§ê§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ §ã §à§ä§è§à§Þ §Ò§å§Õ§å§ë§Ö§Ô§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ñ ¨C §Ú§Þ§Ö§ß§ß§à §à§ß§Ú §Õ§à§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§ñ§ä §Ò§Ö§Ù§Õ§ß§å §ã§ä§â§Ñ§Õ§Ñ§ß§Ú§Û §Ú §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§å §Ú §Ó§Ñ§Þ.
¨C?§¦§ã§ä§î §ã§Ü§à§Ý§î§Ü§à §å§Ô§à§Õ§ß§à §Õ§Ö§ä§Ö§Û, §à§ä§è§í §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§ç §á§à§Ô§Ú§Ò§Ý§Ú §ß§Ñ §Ó§à§Û§ß§Ö, §Ú §Þ§Ñ§ä§Ö§â§Ú §ã§ä§â§Ñ§Õ§Ñ§ð§ä §à§ä §ï§ä§à§Ô§à. §¡ §Õ§Ö§ä§Ú §ã§Þ§Ö§ê§Ñ§ß§ß§à§Û §Ü§â§à§Ó§Ú, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§ç §à§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§Ú§Ý§Ú §Ó §ã§ä§â§Ñ§ß§Ñ§ç §ð§Ø§ß§í§ç §Þ§à§â§Ö§Û §ä§Ö, §Ü§ä§à §ä§Ñ§Þ §Ó§à§Ö§Ó§Ñ§Ý,?¨C §Þ§à§Ø§ß§à §Ó§ã§á§à§Þ§ß§Ú§ä§î §Ú §à§Ò §ï§ä§Ú§ç §Õ§Ö§ä§ñ§ç. §¥§Ö§ä§Ö§Û, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§ç §Ò§â§à§ã§Ú§Ý§Ú §Ú §Ù§Ñ§Ò§í§Ý§Ú §à§ä§è§í, §Ó§à§ã§á§Ú§ä§í§Ó§Ñ§ð§ä §Þ§Ñ§ä§Ö§â§Ú."
§¯§à §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §ß§Ö §Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ä §å§ã§á§à§Ü§à§Ú§ä§î§ã§ñ - §Ó§Ö§Õ§î §â§Ö§é§î §Ú§Õ§×§ä §à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ö §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú! §°§ß §ß§Ö §å§Õ§à§Ó§Ý§Ö§ä§Ó§à§â§ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §Ö§Ö §Ù§Ñ§Ó§Ö§â§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ§Þ§Ú, §é§ä§à §à§ß§Ñ §ß§Ö §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §à§Ò§â§Ñ§ë§Ñ§ä§î§ã§ñ §Ü §Ö§Ô§à §ã§Ö§Þ§î§Ö §ß§Ú §ã §Ü§Ñ§Ü§Ú§Þ§Ú §Þ§à§Ý§î§Ò§Ñ§Þ§Ú §Ú §á§â§à§ã§î§Ò§Ñ§Þ§Ú. §°§ß §ß§Ñ§ã§ä§Ñ§Ú§Ó§Ñ§Ö§ä: "§ß§Ú§é§ä§à §ß§Ö §Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ä §â§Ñ§Ù§à§â§Ó§Ñ§ä§î §â§à§Õ§ã§ä§Ó§Ö§ß§ß§í§Ö §å§Ù§í §à§ä§è§Ñ §Ú §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ñ".
§´§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §Ö§Û §à§ã§ä§Ñ§×§ä§ã§ñ §ä§à§Ý§î§Ü§à §ã§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§ä§î, §é§ä§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§à§Ü §ß§Ö §à§ä §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú. §±§à §Ú§ß§Ö§â§è§Ú§Ú §Ú §é§ä§à§Ò§í §á§â§Ú§ã§ä§í§Õ§Ú§ä§î, §à§ß §á§â§à§Õ§à§Ý§Ø§Ñ§Ö§ä §Þ§í§ã§Ý§î, §ã§à§à§Ò§ë§Ú§Ó, §é§ä§à §¬§Ú§Ü§å§ä§Ú §ã§Õ§Ö§Ý§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §Ñ§Ò§à§â§ä. §¬§Ú§ß§å§Ü§à §à§ä§Þ§Ö§é§Ñ§Ö§ä, §é§ä§à §à§ß§Ñ §ã§Ü§à§Ý§î §å§Ô§à§Õ§ß§à §Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ä §Ù§Ñ§Ò§Ö§â§Ö§Þ§Ö§ß§Ö§ä§î §ã§ß§à§Ó§Ñ §Ó §ã§é§Ñ§ã§ä§Ý§Ú§Ó§à§Þ §Ò§â§Ñ§Ü§Ö, §Ñ §ß§Ö §ã§Þ§à§Ø§Ö§ä - §ä§Ñ§Ü §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §ã§à§Ø§Ñ§Ý§Ö§ä§î §à§Ò §Ñ§Ò§à§â§ä§Ö §Ó§ã§ð §Ø§Ú§Ù§ß§î.
§°§ß§Ñ §â§Ñ§ã§ã§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§Ý§Ñ, §é§ä§à §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú §ä§â§Ö§Ò§à§Ó§Ñ§Ý, §é§ä§à§Ò§í §à§ß§Ñ §ß§Ö §â§à§Ø§Ñ§Ý§Ñ, §Ò§Ú§Ý §Ö§Ö §ß§à§Ô§Ñ§Þ§Ú, §Ó§à§Ý§à§é§Ú§Ý §á§à §Ý§Ö§ã§ä§ß§Ú§è§Ö §ã§à §Ó§ä§à§â§à§Ô§à §ï§ä§Ñ§Ø§Ñ, §á§í§ä§Ñ§ñ§ã§î §à§ä§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§Ú §Ö§Ö §Ü §Ó§â§Ñ§é§å. §¿§ä§Ú§Þ§Ú §Õ§Ú§Ü§Ú§Þ§Ú §Ó§í§ç§à§Õ§Ü§Ñ§Þ§Ú §à§ß §á§à§Ý§ß§à§ã§ä§î§ð §Ú§ã§Ü§å§á§Ú§Ý §ã§Ó§à§ð §Ó§Ú§ß§å §á§Ö§â§Ö§Õ §Ø§Ö§ß§à§Û. §¿§ä§à§ä §Õ§Ú§Ñ§Ý§à§Ô - §Ü§å§Ý§î§Þ§Ú§ß§Ñ§è§Ú§ñ §Ó§ã§Ö§Ô§à §ß§Ñ§Ü§Ñ§á§Ý§Ú§Ó§Ñ§ð§ë§Ö§Ô§à§ã§ñ §ã §ß§Ñ§é§Ñ§Ý§Ñ §â§à§Þ§Ñ§ß§Ñ §Ü§à§ß§æ§Ý§Ú§Ü§ä§Ñ, §Ú §à§ß §á§à§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§ä§Ö§Ý§Ö§ß §Õ§Ý§ñ §á§Ñ§ä§â§Ú§Ñ§â§ç§Ñ§Ý§î§ß§à§Ô§à §Þ§í§ê§Ý§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ, §Ü§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §Ý§Ú§ê§î §Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§ß§í§Ö §Õ§Ö§ä§Ú §Ú §Ó§ß§å§Ü§Ú §Ú§Þ§Ö§ð§ä §á§â§Ñ§Ó§à §ß§Ñ §à§ä§è§Ñ. §°§ä§è§Ñ, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Û §Ô§å§Ý§ñ§Ö§ä §Ú §Ú§Ù§Þ§Ö§ß§ñ§Ö§ä §Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§ß§à§Û §Ø§Ö§ß§Ö, §Ú §é§î§Ö§Û "§à§ä§Ó§Ö§ä§ã§ä§Ó§Ö§ß§ß§à§ã§ä§Ú" §ç§Ó§Ñ§ä§Ñ§Ö§ä §ä§à§Ý§î§Ü§à §ß§Ñ §ä§à, §é§ä§à§Ò§í §à§ä§Ü§Ñ§Ù§Ñ§ä§î§ã§ñ §à§ä §ß§Ö§Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§ß§à§Ô§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§Ü§Ñ §Ö§ë§× §Ó §å§ä§â§à§Ò§Ö §å §Þ§Ñ§ä§Ö§â§Ú, §Ò§Ú§ä§î §Ö§Ö §Ú §á§â§Ú§ß§å§Ø§Õ§Ñ§ä§î §Ö§Ö §Ü §Ñ§Ò§à§â§ä§å.
§³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §à§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§Ý§ñ§Ö§ä §Ö§Û §é§Ö§Ü, §Ú §à§ß§Ñ §ß§Ö §à§ä§Ü§Ñ§Ù§í§Ó§Ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §Ö§Ô§à §á§â§Ú§ß§ñ§ä§î. §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §ß§Ö§Ô§Ý§å§á §Ú §à§ä§Ý§Ú§é§ß§à §á§à§ß§Ú§Þ§Ñ§Ö§ä, §é§ä§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§à§Ü §à§ä §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú. §¯§à §é§ä§à §Ø§Ö §Õ§Ö§Ý§Ñ§ä§î? §°§ß §â§Ö§ê§Ñ§Ö§ä §ß§Ú§é§Ö§Ô§à §ß§Ö §Õ§Ö§Ý§Ñ§ä§î, §á§å§ã§ä§î §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú §á§à§Ó§Ö§â§Ú§ä, §ß§à §à§ß, §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à, §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §Ù§ß§Ñ§ä§î, §é§ä§à §á§à§ã§Ý§Ö §Ö§Ô§à §ã§Þ§Ö§â§ä§Ú §å §ß§Ö§Ô§à §à§ã§ä§Ñ§ß§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §ß§Ö§Ú§Ù§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§ß§í§Û §Ó§ß§å§Ü §Ú §Ö§Ô§à §Ø§Ú§Ù§ß§î §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §ã§å§â§à§Ó§Ñ.
§³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §Þ§å§é§Ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ. §°§ß §á§à-§ã§Ó§à§Ö§Þ§å §á§à§â§ñ§Õ§à§é§Ö§ß: "§¬§à§Ô§Õ§Ñ §á§â§à§Ú§Ù§à§ê§Ý§Ñ §ï§ä§Ñ §Ú§ã§ä§à§â§Ú§ñ §ã §ã§Ñ§Þ§à§å§Ò§Ú§Û§ã§ä§Ó§à§Þ §¡§Ú§ç§Ñ§â§Ñ, §ñ §á§à§ä§à§â§à§á§Ú§Ý§ã§ñ §à§ä§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ú§ä§î §Ù§Ñ§ñ§Ó§Ý§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö §à §â§Ñ§Ù§Ó§à§Õ§Ö §Ú §à§Ü§à§ß§é§Ñ§ä§Ö§Ý§î§ß§à §Ó§Ù§ñ§Ý §Ü §ã§Ö§Ò§Ö §Õ§à§é§î §ã §Õ§Ó§å§Þ§ñ §Õ§Ö§ä§î§Þ§Ú. §¡ §ã§Ö§Û§é§Ñ§ã, §ç§à§ä§ñ §³§ð§Ú§ä§Ú §Ú §â§Ñ§ã§ã§ä§Ñ§Ý§ã§ñ §ã §Ý§ð§Ò§à§Ó§ß§Ú§è§Ö§Û, §Ô§Õ§Ö-§ä§à §Ó§ã§Ö §Ø§Ö §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä §Ø§Ú§ä§î §Ö§Ô§à §â§Ö§Ò§Ö§ß§à§Ü,?¨C §â§Ñ§Ù§Ó§Ö §ï§ä§à §ã§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ö§Õ§Ý§Ú§Ó§à? §¬§Ñ§Ø§Õ§à§Ö §Ú§Ù §ï§ä§Ú§ç §â§Ö§ê§Ö§ß§Ú§Û §ß§Ö §â§Ö§ê§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö ¨C §ä§Ñ§Ü, §Ó§â§Ö§Þ§Ö§ß§ß§à§Ö §Ù§Ñ§Ý§Ñ§ä§í§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ú§Ö §Õ§í§â."
§³§Ö§Ô§à§Õ§ß§ñ §Þ§í §á§à§ß§Ú§Þ§Ñ§Ö§Þ, §é§ä§à §Õ§Ý§ñ §ä§à§Ô§à, §é§ä§à§Ò§í §Ø§Ú§Ù§ß§î §ß§Ö§Ù§Ñ§Ü§à§ß§ß§í§ç §Õ§Ö§ä§Ö§Û §ß§Ö §Ò§í§Ý§Ñ §ã§å§â§à§Ó§Ñ, §ß§å§Ø§ß§à §Ü§Ñ§Ü §Þ§Ú§ß§Ú§Þ§å§Þ §â§Ñ§Ó§ß§à§á§â§Ñ§Ó§Ú§Ö §Ø§Ö§ß§ë§Ú§ß, §Ú §Ó §á§Ö§â§Ó§å§ð §à§é§Ö§â§Ö§Õ§î §Ó §à§á§Ý§Ñ§ä§Ö §ä§â§å§Õ§Ñ §Ú §Õ§à§ã§ä§å§á§ß§à§ã§ä§Ú §Ü§Ñ§â§î§Ö§â§ß§í§ç §Ó§í§ã§à§ä, §é§Ö§Ô§à §ã§Ö§Û§é§Ñ§ã §Õ§Ñ§Ø§Ö §Ó §â§Ñ§Ù§Ó§Ú§ä§í§ç §ã§ä§â§Ñ§ß§Ñ§ç §ß§Ö§ä. §¥§Ý§ñ §Ó§â§Ö§Þ§Ö§ß§Ú §¬§Ñ§Ó§Ñ§Ò§Ñ§ä§í §ã§Ñ§Þ§Ñ §á§à§ã§ä§Ñ§ß§à§Ó§Ü§Ñ §Ó§à§á§â§à§ã§Ñ §Ú §à§Ò§ß§Ñ§â§å§Ø§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö §ä§å§á§Ú§Ü§Ñ §á§â§Ú §Ý§ð§Ò§à§Þ §â§Ñ§ã§Ü§Ý§Ñ§Õ§Ö §Ò§í§Ý§Ñ §â§Ö§Ó§à§Ý§ð§è§Ú§à§ß§ß§Ñ.
§¬§ß§Ú§Ô§Ñ §á§â§à§ß§Ú§Ù§Ñ§ß§Ñ §á§Ö§é§Ñ§Ý§î§ð, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§Ñ§ñ §ß§Ñ§Ó§Ö§ñ§ß§Ñ §à§ë§å§ë§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö§Þ §Ò§Ö§Ù§Ó§à§Ù§Ó§â§Ñ§ä§ß§à§ã§ä§Ú §á§â§à§Ø§Ú§ä§í§ç §Ý§Ö§ä, §ã§ä§â§Ñ§ç§à§Þ §ã§ä§Ñ§â§à§ã§ä§Ú, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Û §Ú§ã§á§í§ä§í§Ó§Ñ§Ö§ä §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à. §³ §Õ§â§å§Ô§à§Û §ã§ä§à§â§à§ß§í, §á§Ö§é§Ñ§Ý§î §ß§Ñ§Ó§Ö§Ó§Ñ§Ö§ä §Ó§à§Û§ß§Ñ, §á§à§ß§Ú§Þ§Ñ§ß§Ú§Ö §ä§à§Ô§à, §é§ä§à §Þ§Ú§â §å§Ø§Ö §ß§Ö §Ò§å§Õ§Ö§ä, §Ü§Ñ§Ü §á§â§Ö§Ø§Õ§Ö. §±§Ö§é§Ñ§Ý§î§ð §á§â§à§ß§Ú§Ù§Ñ§ß§í §Ú §á§à§ã§Ö§ë§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ §á§â§Ú§ñ§ä§Ö§Ý§ñ §ã §â§Ñ§Ü§à§Þ §á§Ö§é§Ö§ß§Ú §Ó §Ò§à§Ý§î§ß§Ú§è§Ö, §Ú §ã§ß§í §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à, §Ú §Ü§Ñ§â§ä§Ú§ß§Ñ "§®§â§Ñ§é§ß§í§Û §Ó§à§â§à§ß §Ó §â§Ñ§ã§ã§Ó§Ö§ä§ß§à§Û §Þ§Ô§Ý§Ö, §Þ§Ñ§Û§ã§Ü§Ú§Û §Õ§à§Ø§Õ§î. §¯§à§Ò§à§â§Ú." §Ú §â§Ñ§Ù§Ó§Ú§Ó§Ñ§ð§ë§Ñ§ñ§ã§ñ §Ù§Ñ§Ò§í§Ó§é§Ú§Ó§à§ã§ä§î, §Ú, §Ü§à§ß§Ö§é§ß§à, §ã§ä§à§ß §Ô§à§â§í, §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Û §³§Ú§ß§Ô§à §ã§Ý§í§ê§Ú§ä §Ú §Ü§à§ä§à§â§í§Û §ñ§Ó§Ý§ñ§Ö§ä§ã§ñ §á§â§Ö§Õ§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§ß§Ú§Ü§à§Þ §ã§Þ§Ö§â§ä§Ú.
§±§à§Þ§Ú§Þ§à §á§Ö§é§Ñ§Ý§Ú, §Ó§Ñ§Ø§ß§Ñ§ñ §ï§ã§ä§Ö§ä§Ú§é§Ö§ã§Ü§Ñ§ñ §ã§à§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§Ý§ñ§ð§ë§Ñ§ñ §â§à§Þ§Ñ§ß§Ñ - §ã§á§à§ã§à§Ò§ß§à§ã§ä§î §Ù§Ñ§Þ§Ö§é§Ñ§ä§î §Ü§â§Ñ§ã§à§ä§å. §¤§Ö§â§à§Ú §à§Ò§ã§å§Ø§Õ§Ñ§ð§ä §è§Ó§Ö§ä§Ö§ß§Ú§Ö §Ó§Ú§ê§ß§Ú §Ú §Ý§à§ä§à§ã§Ñ, §ß§Ñ§Ò§Ý§ð§Õ§Ñ§ð§ä §è§Ó§Ö§ä§í §Ñ§Ü§Ñ§è§Ú§Ú, §ã§á§Ú§Ý§Ú§Ó§Ñ§ð§ä §Ó§Ö§ä§Ó§Ú §Ñ§â§à§ß§Ú§Ú, §â§Ñ§ã§ã§Þ§Ñ§ä§â§Ú§Ó§Ñ§ð§ä §á§à§Õ§ã§à§Ý§ß§å§ç§Ú.
§´§à§ß§Ü§Ú§Ö §æ§Ú§Ý§à§ã§à§æ§ã§Ü§Ú§Ö §â§Ñ§Ù§Þ§í§ê§Ý§Ö§ß§Ú§ñ, §ß§Ö§Ò§â§à§ã§Ü§Ñ§ñ §Ô§Ý§å§Ò§Ú§ß§Ñ §Þ§í§ã§Ý§Ö§Û, §ï§ã§ä§Ö§ä§Ú§é§Ö§ã§Ü§Ñ§ñ §á§â§Ú§ä§ñ§Ô§Ñ§ä§Ö§Ý§î§ß§à§ã§ä§î §ã§à§ã§ä§Ñ§Ó§Ý§ñ§ð§ä §ß§Ö§Ø§ß§í§Û §Ñ§Ü§Ó§Ñ§â§Ö§Ý§î§ß§í§Û §æ§à§ß §á§à§Ó§Ö§ã§ä§Ó§à§Ó§Ñ§ß§Ú§ð.
December 8, 2021
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???? ???????? ??? ????? ?? ??? ??????? ????? ???????? ???? ????? ? ???? ??????? ??????? ?????? ?????????. ?? ???? ????? ??? ???? ? ????? ?? ???? ?? ????? ????? ????? ???????. ???????? ????? ?? ?? ??????? ???? ?? ????? ????? ?? ???????? ????? ???? ??? ??????? ??? ???? ????????? ??????.
???? ????? ?????? ?????????? ?? ????? ?? ?? ??? ? ?? ????? ?? ?????? ??? ? ???? ?? ???? ?? ?? ????? ????? ?? ??????? ?? ???? ???????? ????? ??? ??? ? ?? ?? ??????? ???? ??? ? ?? ???? ?????? ???? ?????? ?????? ??? ?????? ?? ???? ????????? ???? ??????? ?? ????? ?????. ????? ????? ???? ? ???? ???.
??? ?? ??? ????? ??? ? ?? ?????? ???????????? ??? ???? ?? ??????? ?????? ? ?? ?? ???? ?? ????? ??????? ??? ??????????? ??? ????? ?? ???? ??? ????? ?? ???????? ??? ???? ?? ?? ????? ?????? ????? ????? ?????? ??????? ??? ??? ?? ????? ?????? ?? ??? ???? ?? ??? ???? ?? ????? ???????? ???? ?? ???????? ?? ??? ?? ?? ??? ?? ??? ?????? ????? ??? ????.
??? ???? ? ??????
September 14, 2016
The theme of death permeates this lyrical and poetic book. It is as if the author is preparing himself for his own demise, especially running in tandem with another theme, that of suicide. And that Kawabata is in fact searching for a way in which to make that ultimate separation from life as we know it on this planet of ours. Thus I was not at all surprised to read that Kawabata committed suicide in 1972.
There are distinct pros and cons to this work and regrettably the latter prevail.
The positive points demonstrate the unique writing style of Kawabata and the way he demonstrates his love of nature.
The negative point is that the rhythm is incredibly slow and pedestrian. I had the odd sensation too as if I were straddling an ancient giant tortoise on its way to die. I¡¯m amazed in fact why I didn¡¯t abandon the book but something kept me going ¨C intrigue I believe for the final outcome, which nevertheless disappointed me no end as it tailed into nothing
The characters:
Shingo, sixty two years old, losing his memory somewhat, is coasting downhill towards that ultimate destination (that age at the time was considered old ¨C I believe this book was first serialized between 1949 and 1954). He suffers from disappointment with his daughter Fusako, who has a failed marriage and two children and is back at the family home. He doesn¡¯t appear to like her.
Yasuko, a rather dull wife a year older than Shingo and is really quite boring.
Fusako, who has not been granted great looks and it is evident that Shingo doesn¡¯t love her as one should a daughter.
Shuichi, Shingo¡¯s son, showed initial promise but he was cheating on his wife Kikuko and soon became thoroughly annoying and boring.
Now Kikuko, Shuichi¡¯s wife, well she¡¯s a really interesting personality and definitely with hidden depths. She was, I believe, the catalyst in the book and not Shingo. I often wondered about her feelings for Shingo ¨C were they in fact fatherly or not and vice versa with Shingo? There are delightful dialogues between them but my, so slow moving, like feathers in a slight breeze. In fact at one stage I fell asleep.
I did nevertheless find the geishas mentioned in the book to be quite fascinating.
There were some rather old-fashioned phrases such as ¡°they were in their cups¡± - inebriated.
I see that many people love this book and evidently Kawabata was a great Japanese writer getting the 1968 Novel Prize for Literature, which is no mean feat. So this doesn¡¯t mean that I will not read any of his other works. It is just that this one was not to my satisfaction.
There are distinct pros and cons to this work and regrettably the latter prevail.
The positive points demonstrate the unique writing style of Kawabata and the way he demonstrates his love of nature.
The negative point is that the rhythm is incredibly slow and pedestrian. I had the odd sensation too as if I were straddling an ancient giant tortoise on its way to die. I¡¯m amazed in fact why I didn¡¯t abandon the book but something kept me going ¨C intrigue I believe for the final outcome, which nevertheless disappointed me no end as it tailed into nothing
The characters:
Shingo, sixty two years old, losing his memory somewhat, is coasting downhill towards that ultimate destination (that age at the time was considered old ¨C I believe this book was first serialized between 1949 and 1954). He suffers from disappointment with his daughter Fusako, who has a failed marriage and two children and is back at the family home. He doesn¡¯t appear to like her.
Yasuko, a rather dull wife a year older than Shingo and is really quite boring.
Fusako, who has not been granted great looks and it is evident that Shingo doesn¡¯t love her as one should a daughter.
Shuichi, Shingo¡¯s son, showed initial promise but he was cheating on his wife Kikuko and soon became thoroughly annoying and boring.
Now Kikuko, Shuichi¡¯s wife, well she¡¯s a really interesting personality and definitely with hidden depths. She was, I believe, the catalyst in the book and not Shingo. I often wondered about her feelings for Shingo ¨C were they in fact fatherly or not and vice versa with Shingo? There are delightful dialogues between them but my, so slow moving, like feathers in a slight breeze. In fact at one stage I fell asleep.
I did nevertheless find the geishas mentioned in the book to be quite fascinating.
There were some rather old-fashioned phrases such as ¡°they were in their cups¡± - inebriated.
I see that many people love this book and evidently Kawabata was a great Japanese writer getting the 1968 Novel Prize for Literature, which is no mean feat. So this doesn¡¯t mean that I will not read any of his other works. It is just that this one was not to my satisfaction.
October 23, 2022
Ogata Shingo envejece; pierde la memoria, confunde cosas. Los sue?os comienzan a ocupar un lugar m¨¢s importante; y en algunos de sue?os, y tambi¨¦n en sus vigilias, percibe un murmullo que confunde o no puede reconocer: ?La monta?a le est¨¢ hablando? ?Lo est¨¢ llamando a aprender de su sabia eternidad?
Su vida es de una serena tristeza; es capaz de percibir la belleza de los ¨¢rboles, de los arreglos florales, del canto de los p¨¢jaros y de la delicadeza de su nuera, Kikuko.
Al reflexionar sobre la vida de sus hijos, siente que ha fracasado. Pero ahora puede pensarlo todo con un ¨¢nimo sereno, mientras van pasando los d¨ªas. Sabe ¨Ccree-, que tal vez todas las cosas, no tengan tanta importancia. El camino de la sabidur¨ªa: conocerlo todo, rechazarlo todo, olvidarlo todo.
Kawabata escribe con un lenguaje delicado y rico, una historia que s¨®lo podr¨ªa contarse de esa manera.
Su vida es de una serena tristeza; es capaz de percibir la belleza de los ¨¢rboles, de los arreglos florales, del canto de los p¨¢jaros y de la delicadeza de su nuera, Kikuko.
Al reflexionar sobre la vida de sus hijos, siente que ha fracasado. Pero ahora puede pensarlo todo con un ¨¢nimo sereno, mientras van pasando los d¨ªas. Sabe ¨Ccree-, que tal vez todas las cosas, no tengan tanta importancia. El camino de la sabidur¨ªa: conocerlo todo, rechazarlo todo, olvidarlo todo.
Kawabata escribe con un lenguaje delicado y rico, una historia que s¨®lo podr¨ªa contarse de esa manera.
December 21, 2021
Here is a Japanese book where the layer of unspoken emotions is finally punctured.
Ogata Shingo is feeling the wheels slowing down. The gas is running out. He is getting old ¨C or is it that he is finally afforded a chance to stop, take a look around himself, and realize that he has been old since before a recognizable point in time? A little of this, a little of that. Names don¡¯t come as easily anymore, which is a constant source of terror. Faces are disappearing. Simple tasks that he was able to perform in a routine manner pose themselves as insurmountable obstacle courses. At the same time, Shingo is performing a running commentary of his life in his own head, rewinding time and looking back at his youth ¨C chances missed, opportunities spurned. It¡¯s no wonder that he is so willing to break the all-important rule of stoicism and harmony in Japanese culture. There is still a struggle, but perhaps he finds that he doesn¡¯t care much. More often than not, he will opt for saying it how it is. This comes in handy, seeing that he lives with his wife Yasuko, his son Shuichi, his daughter-in-law Kikuko, and his daughter Fusako. Yasuko¡¯s exclamations have become routine. The marriages of his children are strained. There may be more than a hint of sexual attraction to his son¡¯s wife. All of these mixed with the fact that his friends and acquaintances are ill or dying.
Why The Sound of the Mountain? I wondered this myself. Allusions to nature, Mother Earth, birth, nascence, and life are apparent in every chapter. Shingo has an almost oddly intensified obsession with trees, grass, petals, rain, etc. in a way that has not been the case in his life previously. In my mind, Shingo¡¯s sharpened focus on nature and its elements come about as a result of his bid to escape aging and death. Here is a telling passage:
Beautiful book. Best of Kawabata so far, and certainly one of the better Japanese books that I have read.
Ogata Shingo is feeling the wheels slowing down. The gas is running out. He is getting old ¨C or is it that he is finally afforded a chance to stop, take a look around himself, and realize that he has been old since before a recognizable point in time? A little of this, a little of that. Names don¡¯t come as easily anymore, which is a constant source of terror. Faces are disappearing. Simple tasks that he was able to perform in a routine manner pose themselves as insurmountable obstacle courses. At the same time, Shingo is performing a running commentary of his life in his own head, rewinding time and looking back at his youth ¨C chances missed, opportunities spurned. It¡¯s no wonder that he is so willing to break the all-important rule of stoicism and harmony in Japanese culture. There is still a struggle, but perhaps he finds that he doesn¡¯t care much. More often than not, he will opt for saying it how it is. This comes in handy, seeing that he lives with his wife Yasuko, his son Shuichi, his daughter-in-law Kikuko, and his daughter Fusako. Yasuko¡¯s exclamations have become routine. The marriages of his children are strained. There may be more than a hint of sexual attraction to his son¡¯s wife. All of these mixed with the fact that his friends and acquaintances are ill or dying.
Why The Sound of the Mountain? I wondered this myself. Allusions to nature, Mother Earth, birth, nascence, and life are apparent in every chapter. Shingo has an almost oddly intensified obsession with trees, grass, petals, rain, etc. in a way that has not been the case in his life previously. In my mind, Shingo¡¯s sharpened focus on nature and its elements come about as a result of his bid to escape aging and death. Here is a telling passage:
Blossoms had lain in the street, broken off with six inches or so of stem. They had been there for several days, like severed human heads.
First the petals withered, and then the stems dried and turned dirty and gray.
Shingo had to step over them on his way to and from work. He did not like to look at them.
Beautiful book. Best of Kawabata so far, and certainly one of the better Japanese books that I have read.
October 13, 2014
"The sound of the mountain" was written in 1954 by one of the greatest modern Japanese novelists.
I'm sorry about my 2 star review, I see the quality of this work, but what I am expressing here is purely "how much I liked the book and the reading experience". Not much at all, that is.
To put it in the simplest terms, I found this book incredibly boring. I couldn't care less.
I do realize that if I was a Japanese person, living in the '50s, I would perceive this book as something totally different, and, hopefully, enjoy it. There are a lot of allusions, metaphors, poetic passages, all revolving around the life of this old guy Shingo, and his two kids' families, that are falling apart. He is disappointed by how messed up his kids are, and he wonders how much responsibility for how kids turn out to be should be with the parents.
During the whole book you can feel a mood of quiet desperation, a dark, imminent omen that Shingo felt when, out on his veranda, he thougt he could hear the "sound of the mountain". His impending death? Someone else's death? Who knows. Everything seems so confusing and vague in this novel.
On the other hand, Shingo is also the narrator, and he is seems so emotionally detached from everything that happens, that you never quite grasp whether he is just having an existential crisis, or he is a bit of an ass.
The narrator describes a lot of interesting dreams and visual ideas, in a way that should convey a direct correlation between the events taking place, the narrator's subconscious, and the nature around him, but at the end of the day it's all just boring and confusing.
You, as the reader, do not CARE for anyone or anything in the novel.
Basically, this did not resonate with me at all. Even when I felt like the narration seemed straight-forward, I still wondered: am I missing something here that is specific to the Japanese culture? And I'm sure I was.
You've been warned.
I'm sorry about my 2 star review, I see the quality of this work, but what I am expressing here is purely "how much I liked the book and the reading experience". Not much at all, that is.
To put it in the simplest terms, I found this book incredibly boring. I couldn't care less.
I do realize that if I was a Japanese person, living in the '50s, I would perceive this book as something totally different, and, hopefully, enjoy it. There are a lot of allusions, metaphors, poetic passages, all revolving around the life of this old guy Shingo, and his two kids' families, that are falling apart. He is disappointed by how messed up his kids are, and he wonders how much responsibility for how kids turn out to be should be with the parents.
During the whole book you can feel a mood of quiet desperation, a dark, imminent omen that Shingo felt when, out on his veranda, he thougt he could hear the "sound of the mountain". His impending death? Someone else's death? Who knows. Everything seems so confusing and vague in this novel.
On the other hand, Shingo is also the narrator, and he is seems so emotionally detached from everything that happens, that you never quite grasp whether he is just having an existential crisis, or he is a bit of an ass.
The narrator describes a lot of interesting dreams and visual ideas, in a way that should convey a direct correlation between the events taking place, the narrator's subconscious, and the nature around him, but at the end of the day it's all just boring and confusing.
You, as the reader, do not CARE for anyone or anything in the novel.
Basically, this did not resonate with me at all. Even when I felt like the narration seemed straight-forward, I still wondered: am I missing something here that is specific to the Japanese culture? And I'm sure I was.
You've been warned.
May 11, 2019
I
Shingo hears the mountain roar.
II
Shingo asks a woman out to dance.
III
Shingo¡¯s son is clawed in a storm.
IV
Shingo¡¯s old acquaintance goes to the grave unknowing.
V
Shingo has a dream of renewed youth beyond the ¡®moss-grown shell of the ego¡¯.
VI
Shingo hears more roaring coming from the mountain.
VII
Shingo drinks from an antique well.
VIII
Shingo hears a groaning in the night.
IX
Shingo thinks old women more ¡®fertile¡¯ than younger ones; his nipple itches.
X
Shingo is aghast at his daughter-in-law¡¯s abortion.
XI
Shingo discovers a large park.
XII
Shingo wonders if limbs from the cherry tree¡¯s roots are still branches.
XIII
Shingo feels the mysterious weight of things.
XIV
Shingo tries to persuade his son¡¯s mistress to abort because the child will grow up to be a delinquent or degenerate.
XV
A lotus seed lives a very long time!
XVI
A golden mist of snow.
Shingo hears the mountain roar.
II
Shingo asks a woman out to dance.
III
Shingo¡¯s son is clawed in a storm.
IV
Shingo¡¯s old acquaintance goes to the grave unknowing.
V
Shingo has a dream of renewed youth beyond the ¡®moss-grown shell of the ego¡¯.
VI
Shingo hears more roaring coming from the mountain.
VII
Shingo drinks from an antique well.
VIII
Shingo hears a groaning in the night.
IX
Shingo thinks old women more ¡®fertile¡¯ than younger ones; his nipple itches.
X
Shingo is aghast at his daughter-in-law¡¯s abortion.
XI
Shingo discovers a large park.
XII
Shingo wonders if limbs from the cherry tree¡¯s roots are still branches.
XIII
Shingo feels the mysterious weight of things.
XIV
Shingo tries to persuade his son¡¯s mistress to abort because the child will grow up to be a delinquent or degenerate.
XV
A lotus seed lives a very long time!
XVI
A golden mist of snow.
May 6, 2024
It is a beautiful novel that portrays Japan and the Japanese family in the 1950s. It is a poetic book full of symbolism that addresses current themes such as aging, adultery, and the relationships between human beings and the family.
February 7, 2017
The sound stopped, and he was suddenly afraid. A chill passed over him, as if he had been notified that death was approaching. He wanted to question himself, calmly and deliberately, to ask whether it had been the sound of the wind, the sound of the sea, or a sound in his ears. But he had heard no such sound, he was sure. He had heard the mountain.
This is an intricate, poetic, beautiful novel which my clumsy review cannot do justice to. It is highly sensory and satiates all the five senses. I¡¯m appreciating nature through the experience of Shingo (pampass grass and cherry trees, buntings and sparrows, the seasons and more). Suddenly I¡¯m transported to post-war Japan, right into the Ogata household. I¡¯m there, a witness to the triumphs and tribulations of a three generation family. I¡¯m experiencing Japanese culture and tradition (geishas and Noh masks). I¡¯m taking a train on the Yokosuka line. I¡¯m taking a peak into forbidden love. But first,
Ageing
'A trout in the autumn, abandoning itself to the water.¡¯ ¡®Trout swimming down the shallows, not knowing they must die.¡¯
At the centre of the book is Shingo Ogata who is in his sixties. He experiences all the trappings of age, grandchildren, white hairs and worst of all, failing memory. All these do not seem to bother him much though. Perhaps the worst reminder of his own senescence was the woman who was growing old beside him, Yasuko.
On nights when he was not in good spirits he would be repelled by the sight of the aged flesh with which he had lived for so long.
Beyond ageing, Shingo also grapples with the issue of mortality, even as he encounters the deaths of several of his peers, ranging from an enviable death in the arms of a young woman to an ignominious suicide.
Family
While Shingo is at the centre, it is his family that makes him who he is. The family bond is strong, dominated with a sense of duty, even if favouritism rules. It is remarkable that as polarized as they are, they are irresistibly drawn together as a family. As patriarch of the family, Shingo takes personal responsibility for the success of his children¡¯s marriages.
Relationships
¡±Even when natural weather is good, human weather is bad.¡±
Each character has depth and the relationships are even more complex.
Shingo the patriarch. Ageing, philosophical, patient, longings but minimal regret.
Yasuko, his wife. ¡for Yasuko self-immolation became a career.
Fusako, his daughter. Frumpy, unrefined, bitter.
Kikuko, his daughter-in-law. Beautiful, pure, refined. But there¡¯s more to her.
Shuichi, his son. Philanderer.
Kinu, the mistress. Geisha, war widow, aggrieved, trying to reclaim the life that she lost.
Shingo and Yasuko. Shingo was smitten by Yasuko¡¯s younger sister and was haunted by the memory of the unattainable sister even through to his old age. Yasuko was a consolation prize, but to his credit: Now more than thirty years had passed, and Shingo did not think the marriage a mistake. A long marriage was not necessarily governed by its origins. But even Shingo himself was not top choice as a suitor, outshone by Yasuko¡¯s handsome brother-in-law.
Shingo and Kikuko. This was the most complicated and delicate relationship. Between father-in-law and daughter-in-law, it was beautiful in its symbiosis, two souls which dovetail naturally into each other¡¯s emptiness. Teetering with its sensuality towards impropriety but never quite crossing that boundary. Shingo¡¯s attraction to Kikuko was the only thing which was not overshadowed by his obsession with Yasuko¡¯s sister. Kikuko felt loyalty and affection toward Shingo, but whether as a substitute for her wandering husband or as a father figure, it¡¯s not entirely clear.
Kikuko was for him a window looking out of a gloomy house. His blood kin were not as he would wish them to be¡His daughter-in-law brought relief. Kindness toward her was a beam lighting isolation. It was a way of pampering himself, of bringing a touch of mellowness into his life. For her part, Kikuko did not indulge in dark conjectures on the psychology of the aged, nor did she seem afraid of him.
Shingo and Fusako. It was obvious that Shingo favoured Kikuko over his own less attractive daughter, who was a reminder of Yasuko and hence of her younger sister whom he could never be with. To Shingo, she represented the ordinary rather than the dream. Still he sheltered Fusako and her two daughters in the wake of her own failed marriage.
Kikuko and Shuichi. Was she really that oblivious to his affair or simply resigned to it?
Shingo and Eiko, Shingo¡¯s secretary. Shingo has a curious relationship with Eiko. To him, she is ¡°not fully developed¡± as a woman. He dates her and makes no qualms about it. Is there a boundary? As for Eiko, despite the discomfort to her, she goes all out to help Shingo dissolve Shuichi¡¯s affair with Kinu.
And of course, the marriage relationships.
A marriage was like a dangerous marsh, sucking in endlessly the misdeeds of the partners.
¡the two might come together again, they might make a new start. Human beings were capable of such things.
Metaphors and allusions
There are plenty of these but I doubt that I caught them all. Then there are Shingo¡¯s many dreams, which he tries to interpret.
This book is going to haunt me for a while¡.
This is an intricate, poetic, beautiful novel which my clumsy review cannot do justice to. It is highly sensory and satiates all the five senses. I¡¯m appreciating nature through the experience of Shingo (pampass grass and cherry trees, buntings and sparrows, the seasons and more). Suddenly I¡¯m transported to post-war Japan, right into the Ogata household. I¡¯m there, a witness to the triumphs and tribulations of a three generation family. I¡¯m experiencing Japanese culture and tradition (geishas and Noh masks). I¡¯m taking a train on the Yokosuka line. I¡¯m taking a peak into forbidden love. But first,
Ageing
'A trout in the autumn, abandoning itself to the water.¡¯ ¡®Trout swimming down the shallows, not knowing they must die.¡¯
At the centre of the book is Shingo Ogata who is in his sixties. He experiences all the trappings of age, grandchildren, white hairs and worst of all, failing memory. All these do not seem to bother him much though. Perhaps the worst reminder of his own senescence was the woman who was growing old beside him, Yasuko.
On nights when he was not in good spirits he would be repelled by the sight of the aged flesh with which he had lived for so long.
Beyond ageing, Shingo also grapples with the issue of mortality, even as he encounters the deaths of several of his peers, ranging from an enviable death in the arms of a young woman to an ignominious suicide.
Family
While Shingo is at the centre, it is his family that makes him who he is. The family bond is strong, dominated with a sense of duty, even if favouritism rules. It is remarkable that as polarized as they are, they are irresistibly drawn together as a family. As patriarch of the family, Shingo takes personal responsibility for the success of his children¡¯s marriages.
Relationships
¡±Even when natural weather is good, human weather is bad.¡±
Each character has depth and the relationships are even more complex.
Shingo the patriarch. Ageing, philosophical, patient, longings but minimal regret.
Yasuko, his wife. ¡for Yasuko self-immolation became a career.
Fusako, his daughter. Frumpy, unrefined, bitter.
Kikuko, his daughter-in-law. Beautiful, pure, refined. But there¡¯s more to her.
Shuichi, his son. Philanderer.
Kinu, the mistress. Geisha, war widow, aggrieved, trying to reclaim the life that she lost.
Shingo and Yasuko. Shingo was smitten by Yasuko¡¯s younger sister and was haunted by the memory of the unattainable sister even through to his old age. Yasuko was a consolation prize, but to his credit: Now more than thirty years had passed, and Shingo did not think the marriage a mistake. A long marriage was not necessarily governed by its origins. But even Shingo himself was not top choice as a suitor, outshone by Yasuko¡¯s handsome brother-in-law.
Shingo and Kikuko. This was the most complicated and delicate relationship. Between father-in-law and daughter-in-law, it was beautiful in its symbiosis, two souls which dovetail naturally into each other¡¯s emptiness. Teetering with its sensuality towards impropriety but never quite crossing that boundary. Shingo¡¯s attraction to Kikuko was the only thing which was not overshadowed by his obsession with Yasuko¡¯s sister. Kikuko felt loyalty and affection toward Shingo, but whether as a substitute for her wandering husband or as a father figure, it¡¯s not entirely clear.
Kikuko was for him a window looking out of a gloomy house. His blood kin were not as he would wish them to be¡His daughter-in-law brought relief. Kindness toward her was a beam lighting isolation. It was a way of pampering himself, of bringing a touch of mellowness into his life. For her part, Kikuko did not indulge in dark conjectures on the psychology of the aged, nor did she seem afraid of him.
Shingo and Fusako. It was obvious that Shingo favoured Kikuko over his own less attractive daughter, who was a reminder of Yasuko and hence of her younger sister whom he could never be with. To Shingo, she represented the ordinary rather than the dream. Still he sheltered Fusako and her two daughters in the wake of her own failed marriage.
Kikuko and Shuichi. Was she really that oblivious to his affair or simply resigned to it?
Shingo and Eiko, Shingo¡¯s secretary. Shingo has a curious relationship with Eiko. To him, she is ¡°not fully developed¡± as a woman. He dates her and makes no qualms about it. Is there a boundary? As for Eiko, despite the discomfort to her, she goes all out to help Shingo dissolve Shuichi¡¯s affair with Kinu.
And of course, the marriage relationships.
A marriage was like a dangerous marsh, sucking in endlessly the misdeeds of the partners.
¡the two might come together again, they might make a new start. Human beings were capable of such things.
Metaphors and allusions
There are plenty of these but I doubt that I caught them all. Then there are Shingo¡¯s many dreams, which he tries to interpret.
This book is going to haunt me for a while¡.
August 17, 2024
Reading The Sound Of The Mountain
In 1968, Yasunari Kawabata (1899 -- 1972) became the first Japanese writer to win the Nobel Prize for literature. In 1970, following the award, the American scholar and translator of Japanese literature, Edward Seidensticker (1921 -- 2007) translated Kawabata's novel "The Sound of the Mountain" into English. Seidensticker had earlier translated other Kawabata novels that led to the Nobel Prize including "Snow Country" and "Thousand Cranes". Seidensticker received the National Book Award for translation for "The Sound of the Mountain". This book was my first by Kawataba.
Kawabata wrote "The Sound of the Mountain" between 1949 and 1954 (it had been serialized), and the novel describes Japan in the years immediately following WW II. The book is set in a suburb of Tokyo and in the city itself. The primary character is Shingo, an aging man of 61. Much of the book involves Shingo's relationships to his family: his wife Yasuko, 62, and the couple's two children, Shuichi, in his mid-20s. and his wife Kikako, who live with Shingo and Yasuko, and Fusako, 30, their daughter, and her two young children.
The book explores the difficulties in growing old, finding meaning in life, and dealing with guilt. Shingo is becoming progressively absent-minded. He regrets growing old and the deaths of many of his friends and companions. He is physically distant from his wife. He has visions of the past when, prior to his marriage, he loved Yasuko's younger sister. He feels guilty over his lack of attention to his children and for the failure of their marriages. Married for about two years, Shuichi is having an affair and drinks excessively. Fusako has left her drug-dealing husband and has come with her children to live with her mother and father. Shingo is overly attracted to his son's wife, Kikao. Abortion, drug use and alcohol play substantial roles in the story.
The book is written in a spare, minimalist, lyrical style that Seidensticker captures marvelously in his translation. The book describes every day events but it is deceptively difficult to read. The book consists of a series of vignettes among the primary characters. Much of the story is told in extended passages of dialogue in which the individual speakers become hazy. The characters too tend to be difficult to keep separate.
Besides the story line, the novel includes a great deal of symbolism. Much of the story is carried along by Shingo's dreams which often involve the death of his friends, or frustrated eroticism. Virtually every detail of this book serves a symbolic purpose. The book includes descriptions of gardens, plants, birds, insects, dogs, and trains. Each scene and use of symbol ties in subtly with the thread of the book. In addition, the novel makes great use of Buddhist symbolism and of Japanese painting, literature, and theater. Seidensticker provides brief explanations to some of the references that American readers would likely find obscure.
Te "Sound of the Mountain" is a hauntingly thoughtful, beautiful, but maddeningly complex book. Many passages need to be read and reread even when they describe seemingly trivial events. The book requires slow, patient reading at the least. The book is fully set in Japan in the post-war years but the themes of aging, loneliness, and guilt are universally conveyed. The change described in the book from a communal, family culture to a more modern culture based on mechanism and individualism will be all-too-familiar to contemporary American readers as well as to readers in post-WW II Japan.
Robin Friedman
In 1968, Yasunari Kawabata (1899 -- 1972) became the first Japanese writer to win the Nobel Prize for literature. In 1970, following the award, the American scholar and translator of Japanese literature, Edward Seidensticker (1921 -- 2007) translated Kawabata's novel "The Sound of the Mountain" into English. Seidensticker had earlier translated other Kawabata novels that led to the Nobel Prize including "Snow Country" and "Thousand Cranes". Seidensticker received the National Book Award for translation for "The Sound of the Mountain". This book was my first by Kawataba.
Kawabata wrote "The Sound of the Mountain" between 1949 and 1954 (it had been serialized), and the novel describes Japan in the years immediately following WW II. The book is set in a suburb of Tokyo and in the city itself. The primary character is Shingo, an aging man of 61. Much of the book involves Shingo's relationships to his family: his wife Yasuko, 62, and the couple's two children, Shuichi, in his mid-20s. and his wife Kikako, who live with Shingo and Yasuko, and Fusako, 30, their daughter, and her two young children.
The book explores the difficulties in growing old, finding meaning in life, and dealing with guilt. Shingo is becoming progressively absent-minded. He regrets growing old and the deaths of many of his friends and companions. He is physically distant from his wife. He has visions of the past when, prior to his marriage, he loved Yasuko's younger sister. He feels guilty over his lack of attention to his children and for the failure of their marriages. Married for about two years, Shuichi is having an affair and drinks excessively. Fusako has left her drug-dealing husband and has come with her children to live with her mother and father. Shingo is overly attracted to his son's wife, Kikao. Abortion, drug use and alcohol play substantial roles in the story.
The book is written in a spare, minimalist, lyrical style that Seidensticker captures marvelously in his translation. The book describes every day events but it is deceptively difficult to read. The book consists of a series of vignettes among the primary characters. Much of the story is told in extended passages of dialogue in which the individual speakers become hazy. The characters too tend to be difficult to keep separate.
Besides the story line, the novel includes a great deal of symbolism. Much of the story is carried along by Shingo's dreams which often involve the death of his friends, or frustrated eroticism. Virtually every detail of this book serves a symbolic purpose. The book includes descriptions of gardens, plants, birds, insects, dogs, and trains. Each scene and use of symbol ties in subtly with the thread of the book. In addition, the novel makes great use of Buddhist symbolism and of Japanese painting, literature, and theater. Seidensticker provides brief explanations to some of the references that American readers would likely find obscure.
Te "Sound of the Mountain" is a hauntingly thoughtful, beautiful, but maddeningly complex book. Many passages need to be read and reread even when they describe seemingly trivial events. The book requires slow, patient reading at the least. The book is fully set in Japan in the post-war years but the themes of aging, loneliness, and guilt are universally conveyed. The change described in the book from a communal, family culture to a more modern culture based on mechanism and individualism will be all-too-familiar to contemporary American readers as well as to readers in post-WW II Japan.
Robin Friedman
April 9, 2016
I am currently caught in a Kawabata spell. WilliamI put a list of four Kawabata books into a review and I bought them all. I will take a Kawabata a break because I don't want to overindulge but the urge is strong to go on the fourth.
Kawabata writes ambience. He writes inner thoughts. He writes of outer change and reaction. Often little is outwardly happening but the world of change swirls around the reader who is caught up in the web Kawabata has so carefully created. The reader cannot escape, cannot reach out to reach the world that's spinning by because the strands of words bind her arms making any struggle futile. Struggle only binds the reader more.
The Sound of the Mountain is about a man getting old. He is getting old in a world where values are changing rapidly and he is no longer sure as to his own role in this world. He feels the need to retain the ways he grew up with. At the same time, he sees his children abandoning those ways.
¡°Shingo was astonished at his son¡¯s spiritual paralysis and decay, but it seemed to him that he was caught in the same filthy slough. Dark terror swept over him.¡±
Such is my experience in reading "The Sound of the Mountain". The story is simple, hardly a story. More of a photograph of a moment in time. An aging (62?) businessman, Agato Shingo, lives with his family: his wife; his son; his daughter-in-law; and, is soon to be imposed upon his daughter, estranged from her husband, and her two young children. Other characters come and go. Throughout it all, Shingo struggles to comprehend, to remember, to do the right thing in a world that he does not quite understand as the values he knows seem to be slipping away making it almost impossible to act correctly. He would prefer to be sitting and contemplating the beauty to be found around him.
Shingo realizes he is aging. His memory is fading and he cannot keep track of what is going on around him. One day he finds that he cannot remember how to tie his necktie. But his ¡®aging¡¯ is much more than that. As in the other Kawabata books that I have read, there is the implacable march of social change that keeps shifting the ground beneath his feet. His aging is a shift from what he values into another era, another age, that troubles him. Welcome to my world.
¡°Perhaps because of the pressure at the base of his skull, he felt a little giddy, and a golden mist of snow flowed past his closed eyelids. A mist of snow from an avalanche, gold in the evening light. He thought he could hear the roar. .... It was an avalanche he had seen in the mountain home of his boyhood."
Kawabata writes ambience. He writes inner thoughts. He writes of outer change and reaction. Often little is outwardly happening but the world of change swirls around the reader who is caught up in the web Kawabata has so carefully created. The reader cannot escape, cannot reach out to reach the world that's spinning by because the strands of words bind her arms making any struggle futile. Struggle only binds the reader more.
The Sound of the Mountain is about a man getting old. He is getting old in a world where values are changing rapidly and he is no longer sure as to his own role in this world. He feels the need to retain the ways he grew up with. At the same time, he sees his children abandoning those ways.
¡°Shingo was astonished at his son¡¯s spiritual paralysis and decay, but it seemed to him that he was caught in the same filthy slough. Dark terror swept over him.¡±
Such is my experience in reading "The Sound of the Mountain". The story is simple, hardly a story. More of a photograph of a moment in time. An aging (62?) businessman, Agato Shingo, lives with his family: his wife; his son; his daughter-in-law; and, is soon to be imposed upon his daughter, estranged from her husband, and her two young children. Other characters come and go. Throughout it all, Shingo struggles to comprehend, to remember, to do the right thing in a world that he does not quite understand as the values he knows seem to be slipping away making it almost impossible to act correctly. He would prefer to be sitting and contemplating the beauty to be found around him.
Shingo realizes he is aging. His memory is fading and he cannot keep track of what is going on around him. One day he finds that he cannot remember how to tie his necktie. But his ¡®aging¡¯ is much more than that. As in the other Kawabata books that I have read, there is the implacable march of social change that keeps shifting the ground beneath his feet. His aging is a shift from what he values into another era, another age, that troubles him. Welcome to my world.
¡°Perhaps because of the pressure at the base of his skull, he felt a little giddy, and a golden mist of snow flowed past his closed eyelids. A mist of snow from an avalanche, gold in the evening light. He thought he could hear the roar. .... It was an avalanche he had seen in the mountain home of his boyhood."
July 22, 2020
Il seguito di "Mille gru"
Questo libro ¨¨ la prosecuzione del bellissimo romanzo "Mille gru" dello scrittore giapponese Kawabata, Premio Nobel.
Qui il giovane protagonista ¨¨ ancora profondamente toccato dai ricordi delle due donne amate nel libro precedente, una ragazza di cui abbiamo ora un fascio di lettere e la di lei madre.
Ora avverte tutti i sensi di colpa nell'accostarsi alla bellissima moglie appena sposata e si sente indegno di lei per le passioni che ha vissuto.
Siamo in viaggio di nozze. Lui vede nel lembo di biancheria che la sposa sta piegando 'il disegno del piviere sulle onde'. L'albergo in cui dimorano ¨¨ sul mare, "zaffiro stellato" .
L'apprensione del giovane ¨¨ turbata dal 'matrimonio non consumato', direbbero in Occidente.
La moglie, donna emancipata, pare non dar assolutamente peso alla situazione, radiosa nella sua bellezza, imperturbabile Venere botticelliana.
Tra i meandri della narrazione di impareggiabile leggiadria d'atmosfera, compaiono dettagli, piccoli tocchi di spiragli segreti.
Ora la coppia ¨¨ nella loro sontuosa dimora. Ad un tratto balena nella mente del marito un ricordo : durante il viaggio di nozze, per trovare lo stimolo per congiungersi alla giovane moglie, era ricorso alle precedenti carnali relazioni con le due amanti, la ragazza fuggita e la di lei madre di matura sensualit¨¤.
Questo libro ¨¨ la prosecuzione del bellissimo romanzo "Mille gru" dello scrittore giapponese Kawabata, Premio Nobel.
Qui il giovane protagonista ¨¨ ancora profondamente toccato dai ricordi delle due donne amate nel libro precedente, una ragazza di cui abbiamo ora un fascio di lettere e la di lei madre.
Ora avverte tutti i sensi di colpa nell'accostarsi alla bellissima moglie appena sposata e si sente indegno di lei per le passioni che ha vissuto.
Siamo in viaggio di nozze. Lui vede nel lembo di biancheria che la sposa sta piegando 'il disegno del piviere sulle onde'. L'albergo in cui dimorano ¨¨ sul mare, "zaffiro stellato" .
L'apprensione del giovane ¨¨ turbata dal 'matrimonio non consumato', direbbero in Occidente.
La moglie, donna emancipata, pare non dar assolutamente peso alla situazione, radiosa nella sua bellezza, imperturbabile Venere botticelliana.
Tra i meandri della narrazione di impareggiabile leggiadria d'atmosfera, compaiono dettagli, piccoli tocchi di spiragli segreti.
Ora la coppia ¨¨ nella loro sontuosa dimora. Ad un tratto balena nella mente del marito un ricordo : durante il viaggio di nozze, per trovare lo stimolo per congiungersi alla giovane moglie, era ricorso alle precedenti carnali relazioni con le due amanti, la ragazza fuggita e la di lei madre di matura sensualit¨¤.
July 1, 2022
???? ????? ???? ???? ?? ??????? ?? ?? ????? ??? .
?????? ??????? ?? ????? ?? ???????? ??????? ?? ?????? ???????? ??????? ????? ???? ????? . ?????? ?? ???? ???? ? ???? ??? ?????? ????????? ?? ????? ???? ( ???????? ??? ?????? ?? ????? ???? ?? ??????? ????..???? ?? ?????? ??????? ??? ).
???????? ????? ? ??????????? ????????? ?? ??? ????? ???? ????????. ?????? ???????? ??? ????? ?????? ?????? ? ????? ???? ?? ??? ????? ????.
??? ??? ???? ?????? ?? ?? ???? ???? ? ???? ?? ?????????? ?????? ???? ?????? ?? ?? ????? ?????? ?? ??????? ????? ????? ?? ?????? ?? ??? ???????" ????? ? ???? ?? ???????? ????? ????? ??? ?? ?? ?? ??? ??? ???? ????"
?????? ?? ????? ????? ???? ??????? ?? ?? ????? ??? ??? ????? ?? ??????????? ? ????? ? ????????? ??????? ???????? ? ..??????????? ??? ??? .
" ?????? ???? ??? ??? ?????? ???? ??? ????? ?????? ??? ? ??????? ????? ?????? ?????? ????? "
?????? ??????? ?? ????? ?? ???????? ??????? ?? ?????? ???????? ??????? ????? ???? ????? . ?????? ?? ???? ???? ? ???? ??? ?????? ????????? ?? ????? ???? ( ???????? ??? ?????? ?? ????? ???? ?? ??????? ????..???? ?? ?????? ??????? ??? ).
???????? ????? ? ??????????? ????????? ?? ??? ????? ???? ????????. ?????? ???????? ??? ????? ?????? ?????? ? ????? ???? ?? ??? ????? ????.
??? ??? ???? ?????? ?? ?? ???? ???? ? ???? ?? ?????????? ?????? ???? ?????? ?? ?? ????? ?????? ?? ??????? ????? ????? ?? ?????? ?? ??? ???????" ????? ? ???? ?? ???????? ????? ????? ??? ?? ?? ?? ??? ??? ???? ????"
?????? ?? ????? ????? ???? ??????? ?? ?? ????? ??? ??? ????? ?? ??????????? ? ????? ? ????????? ??????? ???????? ? ..??????????? ??? ??? .
" ?????? ???? ??? ??? ?????? ???? ??? ????? ?????? ??? ? ??????? ????? ?????? ?????? ????? "
January 17, 2018
The Sound of the Mountain, Yasunari Kawabata (1899 - 1977)
The sound of the mountain, Snow country, Thousand cranes?
????? ?????? ?????: ???? ??? ????? ??? 2012 ??????
?????: ???? ????????? ???????: ???????? ????????? ???????: ??? ??????? ?????? ???: ?????? ???: ?????? 1390? ?? 336 ?? ????: 9786006242019? ???? ?? ??? ??????? ?? ????? ?????? ??? ?? ?????? ??? ?? ????? ????????? ???? ?????: ????????? ????? ?? ????????? ????? ??? 20 ?
?? ?????? ???? ???????: ???? ????? ?????? ?? ?? ?????? ??????? ???? ???? ??? ?????? ?? ?? ?????? ???? ?? ???? ??????? ?? ?????: ????? ??????? ? ?????? ??? ? ???? ????? ?? ?????: ??????? ?????????? ??? ?? ?????? ???? ??? ??? ?? ??? 1363 ?? 576 ?. ?? ??? ????? ???. ?. ???????
The sound of the mountain, Snow country, Thousand cranes?
????? ?????? ?????: ???? ??? ????? ??? 2012 ??????
?????: ???? ????????? ???????: ???????? ????????? ???????: ??? ??????? ?????? ???: ?????? ???: ?????? 1390? ?? 336 ?? ????: 9786006242019? ???? ?? ??? ??????? ?? ????? ?????? ??? ?? ?????? ??? ?? ????? ????????? ???? ?????: ????????? ????? ?? ????????? ????? ??? 20 ?
?? ?????? ???? ???????: ???? ????? ?????? ?? ?? ?????? ??????? ???? ???? ??? ?????? ?? ?? ?????? ???? ?? ???? ??????? ?? ?????: ????? ??????? ? ?????? ??? ? ???? ????? ?? ?????: ??????? ?????????? ??? ?? ?????? ???? ??? ??? ?? ??? 1363 ?? 576 ?. ?? ??? ????? ???. ?. ???????
June 13, 2016
The quiet prose and acutely calculated distance, set and carried the first part of this book. The micrometers of measures opened a precise distance allowing the reader, inviting the reader, to slip within. During the second half the narrator, laid there as an obstacle, was sent on an ill fated mission to rev-up events Becoming pesky and sliding into a troublesome invasiveness. Possibly the contrast accents it more or is it intended and I have missed its calling?
A sixty two year old man, considered an old man in Japan of this time (Post WWII), awakens to his sexual desires drained, his male vitality escaping as time passes. Time takes with it not only his vigor, faulty memory, but his way of life and bringing with it the confusion of new standards and its complications. The arranged marriage of his daughter failed, landing in divorce, and though grown she returns to his home with her two young children. His own son separating from his pregnant daughter-in-law. This daughter-in-law who remains in the house even though the son has left to be with his mistress. She lovingly cares for Shingo who replaces her father. He feels a growing connection, affection for her. He can experience the mental idea of a relationship with a woman along side the absence of the physical.
It is all disarming to him. This aging and the passing of time, the passing of the way of life he knew. What of this philandering, accented by his son who¡¯s mistress is pregnant with Shingo¡¯s grandson(?) but refuses an abortion and has separated from his son. Shingo is too old to philander and it becomes easy for judgement to be passed. Yet when younger, and it still continues amongst some of his peers, being with a geisha was and is a regular activity. His marriage of many years ago too was arranged(?) but existed in aridity since he was in love with his wife¡¯s beautiful sister who died young. This love continued throughout the years and still maintains its place among his mental images, appearing and fading at times.
What will he be leaving? Death lurks all about him. Trees, plants, flowers, whisper their cycle of life loud enough for him to hear
The book in part seems a legacy of men¡¯s fears of nearness and mistreatment of women who exist as objects for his convenience. Hmmm. Is that why the narration changed half way through? Returned by the end to its original style?A growing plea for the intimacy missed and now too late? A poignant moment; he with a teenage geisha and what he does is hold her face, this child, against his chest, protective. The plea desperate.
I hate it and love it this writing about a book and by so doing learning about it as I go along, wiping out my ideas, plans, for what I thought I would write.
This book lends itself to this with the quietude of its prose containing breath and the pulses of life.
A sixty two year old man, considered an old man in Japan of this time (Post WWII), awakens to his sexual desires drained, his male vitality escaping as time passes. Time takes with it not only his vigor, faulty memory, but his way of life and bringing with it the confusion of new standards and its complications. The arranged marriage of his daughter failed, landing in divorce, and though grown she returns to his home with her two young children. His own son separating from his pregnant daughter-in-law. This daughter-in-law who remains in the house even though the son has left to be with his mistress. She lovingly cares for Shingo who replaces her father. He feels a growing connection, affection for her. He can experience the mental idea of a relationship with a woman along side the absence of the physical.
It is all disarming to him. This aging and the passing of time, the passing of the way of life he knew. What of this philandering, accented by his son who¡¯s mistress is pregnant with Shingo¡¯s grandson(?) but refuses an abortion and has separated from his son. Shingo is too old to philander and it becomes easy for judgement to be passed. Yet when younger, and it still continues amongst some of his peers, being with a geisha was and is a regular activity. His marriage of many years ago too was arranged(?) but existed in aridity since he was in love with his wife¡¯s beautiful sister who died young. This love continued throughout the years and still maintains its place among his mental images, appearing and fading at times.
What will he be leaving? Death lurks all about him. Trees, plants, flowers, whisper their cycle of life loud enough for him to hear
The book in part seems a legacy of men¡¯s fears of nearness and mistreatment of women who exist as objects for his convenience. Hmmm. Is that why the narration changed half way through? Returned by the end to its original style?A growing plea for the intimacy missed and now too late? A poignant moment; he with a teenage geisha and what he does is hold her face, this child, against his chest, protective. The plea desperate.
I hate it and love it this writing about a book and by so doing learning about it as I go along, wiping out my ideas, plans, for what I thought I would write.
This book lends itself to this with the quietude of its prose containing breath and the pulses of life.
July 16, 2014
I read this book shortly after finishing Kazuo Ishiguro¡¯s An Artist of the Floating World. Both books cover similar ground: a man in the twilight of his years reflecting on his past. I was going to write a review about how the book deals with old age and coming to terms with our life, about how Kawabata writes luminous prose with each chapter a beautiful image fading into the next.
But then I read a comment by Ishiguro. He said he didn¡¯t get Kawabata because he was too plotless, too Japanese. And this is something that I¡¯ve been struggling with: whether it¡¯s even possible to communicate across beliefs, time and cultures.
I confess I had problems with this book. It¡¯s by no means an easy read for a reader more used to Western modes of narrative. Almost nothing seems to happen. And if it does, it is barely set off by an act of the protagonist, Shingo. We see him trying to deal with his children¡¯s problem marriages, but resolution takes place outside of his involvement. At best, we see an unfolding of a quiet acceptance towards himself and the waning of his years. And this communicated not directly but through very Japanese-based allusions and imagery. I had to spend some time googling to even get a rough sense of what the novel was about.
In the end, I enjoyed it. But what did I enjoy or even understand? A friend of mine once remarked how much he enjoyed Brideshead Revisited and its coruscating criticism of the Church and religion. Waugh, I¡¯m afraid, would have rolled in his grave. He was Catholic, devoutly so, and Brideshead Revisited was his encomium, paean even, to the loving embrace of the Bride of God. A Catholic friend, reading the same book, talked of how it aptly captured the strong Catholic belief in the need for self-sacrifice and self-denial. Words of anathema of course to the me-generation who see the depiction of self-denial as a trenchant put-down of religion¡¯s repression rather than as the path to salvation.
It¡¯s like listening to an Indian raga or Indonesian gamelan music. My ear hears only noise. I¡¯d have to spend time training myself to understand it before I¡¯d be able to appreciate it. So, I ask this, is it even possible to understand the art of another culture, without at least some work towards an immersion in that culture? And even then, are we seeing through a glass darkly, or worse, reading only a warped image of our own reflection?
But then I read a comment by Ishiguro. He said he didn¡¯t get Kawabata because he was too plotless, too Japanese. And this is something that I¡¯ve been struggling with: whether it¡¯s even possible to communicate across beliefs, time and cultures.
I confess I had problems with this book. It¡¯s by no means an easy read for a reader more used to Western modes of narrative. Almost nothing seems to happen. And if it does, it is barely set off by an act of the protagonist, Shingo. We see him trying to deal with his children¡¯s problem marriages, but resolution takes place outside of his involvement. At best, we see an unfolding of a quiet acceptance towards himself and the waning of his years. And this communicated not directly but through very Japanese-based allusions and imagery. I had to spend some time googling to even get a rough sense of what the novel was about.
In the end, I enjoyed it. But what did I enjoy or even understand? A friend of mine once remarked how much he enjoyed Brideshead Revisited and its coruscating criticism of the Church and religion. Waugh, I¡¯m afraid, would have rolled in his grave. He was Catholic, devoutly so, and Brideshead Revisited was his encomium, paean even, to the loving embrace of the Bride of God. A Catholic friend, reading the same book, talked of how it aptly captured the strong Catholic belief in the need for self-sacrifice and self-denial. Words of anathema of course to the me-generation who see the depiction of self-denial as a trenchant put-down of religion¡¯s repression rather than as the path to salvation.
It¡¯s like listening to an Indian raga or Indonesian gamelan music. My ear hears only noise. I¡¯d have to spend time training myself to understand it before I¡¯d be able to appreciate it. So, I ask this, is it even possible to understand the art of another culture, without at least some work towards an immersion in that culture? And even then, are we seeing through a glass darkly, or worse, reading only a warped image of our own reflection?
December 21, 2014
???? ???? ??? ??????. ?? ??? ???????? ????? ????? ???? ?????
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??????? ?????? ???? ??????? ?????. ????? ????? ????????? ?????? ??????? ??? ??????? ?????????. ?????? ????.
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January 19, 2023
G?os g¨®ry to kwintesencja japo¨½sko?ci, utw¨®r kr¨®tki, esencjonalny, gdzie niemal ka?dy wyraz, nawet przyimek czy partyku?a, ka?de kilkuwyrazowe zdanie, obraz nakre?lony paroma ledwie kreskami, s? na?adowane znaczeniem.
Najistotniejsz? rol? w G?osie g¨®ry pe?ni wyrafinowane pi?kno. Jak pisze w pos?owiu t?umaczka: ??Pi?kno przyrody, zmienno?? p¨®r roku, widok z okna w s?oneczny dzie¨½, za mg?? i w ulewnym deszczu, kontemplacja ogrodu w lecie, w zimie, wiosn? i jesieni?, obserwowanie drzew i kwiat¨®w, wi?ni, ?liw i cedr¨®w, kwiat¨®w s?onecznika i kruczej tykwy. Pi?kno rzeczy i przedmiot¨®w i pi?kno pracy r?k os¨®b wytwarzaj?cych te przedmioty metodami tradycyjnymi. Pi?kno zmiennych widok¨®w z okien poci?gu, kt¨®rym bohater doje?d?a do pracy. I najwa?niejsze ¨C uroda kobiety, zw?aszcza m?odej, ubranej w tradycyjne kimono, jej w?osy, jej u?miech, ruchy, zawstydzenie czy rumie¨½ce na twarzy?.
Niezwykle interesuj?cym z punktu widzenia czytelnika niejapo¨½skiego jest obraz rodziny japo¨½skiej, stosunk¨®w mi?dzy m??czyznami a kobietami. W jakim? sensie powie?? Kawabaty otwiera nam oczy na r¨®?norodno?? kulturow? ?wiata, gdzie kategorie dobra, z?a, szcz??cia czy moralno?ci wygl?daj? zgo?a inaczej ni? w kr?gu kultury o chrze?cija¨½skich korzeniach.
Tak?e poj?cie mi?o?ci mocno odbiega od naszych europejskich wyobra?e¨½.
I w ko¨½cu powie?? Kawabaty to opowie?? o ?yciu, kt¨®re dobiega ko¨½ca. Tak? zapowiedzi? ko¨½ca jest tytu?owy g?os g¨®ry, kt¨®ry niejako sk?ania g?¨®wnego bohatera do zmierzenia si? ze szwankuj?c? pami?ci?, ze wspomnieniami dawnej mi?o?ci czy przyjaci¨®?, kt¨®rzy ju? odeszli.
G?os g¨®ry to pi?kna, cicha, introwertyczna powie?? o cz?owieku, kt¨®ry godzi si? z w?asn? ?miertelno?ci?, ze swoim przemijaniem i krucho?ci? ?ycia. Stawia r¨®wnie? pytanie, czy rodzice s? odpowiedzialni za grzechy swoich dzieci.
Niew?tpliwie jedna z najpi?kniejszych ksi??ek, kt¨®re czyta?em.
Najistotniejsz? rol? w G?osie g¨®ry pe?ni wyrafinowane pi?kno. Jak pisze w pos?owiu t?umaczka: ??Pi?kno przyrody, zmienno?? p¨®r roku, widok z okna w s?oneczny dzie¨½, za mg?? i w ulewnym deszczu, kontemplacja ogrodu w lecie, w zimie, wiosn? i jesieni?, obserwowanie drzew i kwiat¨®w, wi?ni, ?liw i cedr¨®w, kwiat¨®w s?onecznika i kruczej tykwy. Pi?kno rzeczy i przedmiot¨®w i pi?kno pracy r?k os¨®b wytwarzaj?cych te przedmioty metodami tradycyjnymi. Pi?kno zmiennych widok¨®w z okien poci?gu, kt¨®rym bohater doje?d?a do pracy. I najwa?niejsze ¨C uroda kobiety, zw?aszcza m?odej, ubranej w tradycyjne kimono, jej w?osy, jej u?miech, ruchy, zawstydzenie czy rumie¨½ce na twarzy?.
Niezwykle interesuj?cym z punktu widzenia czytelnika niejapo¨½skiego jest obraz rodziny japo¨½skiej, stosunk¨®w mi?dzy m??czyznami a kobietami. W jakim? sensie powie?? Kawabaty otwiera nam oczy na r¨®?norodno?? kulturow? ?wiata, gdzie kategorie dobra, z?a, szcz??cia czy moralno?ci wygl?daj? zgo?a inaczej ni? w kr?gu kultury o chrze?cija¨½skich korzeniach.
Tak?e poj?cie mi?o?ci mocno odbiega od naszych europejskich wyobra?e¨½.
I w ko¨½cu powie?? Kawabaty to opowie?? o ?yciu, kt¨®re dobiega ko¨½ca. Tak? zapowiedzi? ko¨½ca jest tytu?owy g?os g¨®ry, kt¨®ry niejako sk?ania g?¨®wnego bohatera do zmierzenia si? ze szwankuj?c? pami?ci?, ze wspomnieniami dawnej mi?o?ci czy przyjaci¨®?, kt¨®rzy ju? odeszli.
G?os g¨®ry to pi?kna, cicha, introwertyczna powie?? o cz?owieku, kt¨®ry godzi si? z w?asn? ?miertelno?ci?, ze swoim przemijaniem i krucho?ci? ?ycia. Stawia r¨®wnie? pytanie, czy rodzice s? odpowiedzialni za grzechy swoich dzieci.
Niew?tpliwie jedna z najpi?kniejszych ksi??ek, kt¨®re czyta?em.
September 16, 2020
Escrita con una prosa sencilla, precisa y despojada de todo tipo de adornos y florituras, la novela nos ubica en el Jap¨®n de la posguerra y se centra en el patriarca de una familia tradicional que comienza a sentir el peso de la vejez y la proximidad de la muerte, a la vez que tiene que lidiar con una serie de conflictos de relaciones humanas que se dan en el coraz¨®n de su familia, aparte de conflictos propios como la soledad, v¨ªnculos rotos con sus hijos, la culpa ante el fracaso de ellos y la frustraci¨®n de un viejo amor juvenil que lo persigue hasta sus ¨²ltimos d¨ªas.
Es una novela de lectura r¨¢pida que fluye con mucha naturalidad, en donde la naturaleza tiene tambi¨¦n un lugar importante a trav¨¦s de las im¨¢genes que muy armoniosamente Kawabata incorpora a la historia.
Me pareci¨® una novela correcta y ciertamente recomendable, quiz¨¢s la m¨¢s aclamada de quien ganara el Premio Nobel en 1968, pero no mucho mas que eso, nada especial.
3,5
Es una novela de lectura r¨¢pida que fluye con mucha naturalidad, en donde la naturaleza tiene tambi¨¦n un lugar importante a trav¨¦s de las im¨¢genes que muy armoniosamente Kawabata incorpora a la historia.
Me pareci¨® una novela correcta y ciertamente recomendable, quiz¨¢s la m¨¢s aclamada de quien ganara el Premio Nobel en 1968, pero no mucho mas que eso, nada especial.
3,5
August 15, 2020
Otago Shingo j¨¢ est¨¢ com mais de sessenta anos, percebe que a velhice est¨¢ chegando, percebe que todos os seus amigos da sua gera??o est?o morrendo, esquece as coisas facilmente, at¨¦ o n¨® de sua gravata esqueceu como se faz. Diz ouvir sons de uma montanha pr¨®xima , acredita ser a morte lhe chamando. Mas n?o para por ai; ¨¦ casado com yasuko , vive praticamente como irm?os (na juventude fora pela irm? de Yasuko que se encantara) tem um filho, Shuichi , que trai sua nora kikuko, a qual ele gosta muito com apenas dois meses de casado. Tem uma filha Fusako que acaba de se separar do marido que tenta suicidar se , vem para sua casa com dois filhos.
Como podem perceber ele tem uma fam¨ªlia tumultuada e ainda tem mais dramas que n?o vou contar para agu?ar vossa curiosidade de ler o livro. Mas n?o resisto vou contar mais 2 : h¨¢ aborto e sonhos er¨®ticos de Shingo com quem? Com sua nora, com sua cunhada que se encantou no passado? Com ambas?
Num Jap?o p¨®s segunda guerra mundial , com as feridas ainda abertas ,Shingo passa por esses problemas da velhice , dos relacionamentos familiares. O tema do suic¨ªdio tamb¨¦m ¨¦ frequente no livro. O pr¨®prio autor do livro,
Yasunari Kawabata , se suicidou inalando fuma?a t¨®xica. Ele ganhou o pr¨ºmio Nobel de literatura de 1968. Esse livro ¨¦ uma obra prima, recomendo tamb¨¦m a leitura de "Beleza e tristeza" do mesmo autor.
Como podem perceber ele tem uma fam¨ªlia tumultuada e ainda tem mais dramas que n?o vou contar para agu?ar vossa curiosidade de ler o livro. Mas n?o resisto vou contar mais 2 : h¨¢ aborto e sonhos er¨®ticos de Shingo com quem? Com sua nora, com sua cunhada que se encantou no passado? Com ambas?
Num Jap?o p¨®s segunda guerra mundial , com as feridas ainda abertas ,Shingo passa por esses problemas da velhice , dos relacionamentos familiares. O tema do suic¨ªdio tamb¨¦m ¨¦ frequente no livro. O pr¨®prio autor do livro,
Yasunari Kawabata , se suicidou inalando fuma?a t¨®xica. Ele ganhou o pr¨ºmio Nobel de literatura de 1968. Esse livro ¨¦ uma obra prima, recomendo tamb¨¦m a leitura de "Beleza e tristeza" do mesmo autor.
October 19, 2024
Kawabata lezen heeft iets roezigs. Met zijn lyrische, po?tische stijl spint hij je haast ongemerkt in om je vervolgens onder de huid van zijn hoofdpersonages te laten kruipen. Of zijn zij het die onder jouw lezershuid kruipen?
Na onlangs draait het ook hier om familierelaties in een Japan dat zijn oorlogswonden likt. Shingo, de protagonist, wordt geconfronteerd met de lastige gezinsrelaties van zijn eigen kinderen. Bovendien worstelt hij met de eerste tekenen van de ouderdom. Uiterlijk lijkt hij de dingen op hun beloop te laten, tot ergernis van zijn echtgenote. Innerlijk wikt en weegt hij echter alles haarfijn af en stelt zich vragen die hij niet altijd luidop kan uitspreken. Spil van zijn gedachten is Kikuko, zijn in huis wonende schoondochter met wie hij wederzijds een betere band heeft dan met zijn eigen kinderen. Dat zorgt voor heerlijke en uitdagende gedachtenkronkels; o.a. over het lot en de betekenis van het eigen nageslacht.
Kawabata zou Kawabata niet zijn als ook de dood en de zelfmoord niet aan bod zouden komen. Een abortus en een toenemend aantal leeftijdsgenoten van Shingo die overlijden zetten hierbij de toon. Hier en daar meende ik zelfs een verdoken vooruitwijzing te ontwaren naar ; over het sterven van oude mannen met een jong meisje aan hun zijde als ultieme vorm van schoonheid, troost en melancholie.
Toch blijft deze roman down to earth, ook al krijgen de dromen van Shingo een belangrijke rol toebedeeld. Net als de natuur overigens; nog zo'n Kawabata-ingredi?nt. Seizoensbloemen, bloesembomen, een hond, een slang, sprinkhanen ... stuk voor stuk worden ze door de verhaallijn gevlochten en zorgen ze voor die onnavolgbare natuursymboliek die het behalve Japans of Kawabataans ook po?tisch en betoverend maakt, zonder ook maar ergens clich¨¦matig of sentimenteel te gaan klinken.
Na onlangs draait het ook hier om familierelaties in een Japan dat zijn oorlogswonden likt. Shingo, de protagonist, wordt geconfronteerd met de lastige gezinsrelaties van zijn eigen kinderen. Bovendien worstelt hij met de eerste tekenen van de ouderdom. Uiterlijk lijkt hij de dingen op hun beloop te laten, tot ergernis van zijn echtgenote. Innerlijk wikt en weegt hij echter alles haarfijn af en stelt zich vragen die hij niet altijd luidop kan uitspreken. Spil van zijn gedachten is Kikuko, zijn in huis wonende schoondochter met wie hij wederzijds een betere band heeft dan met zijn eigen kinderen. Dat zorgt voor heerlijke en uitdagende gedachtenkronkels; o.a. over het lot en de betekenis van het eigen nageslacht.
Kawabata zou Kawabata niet zijn als ook de dood en de zelfmoord niet aan bod zouden komen. Een abortus en een toenemend aantal leeftijdsgenoten van Shingo die overlijden zetten hierbij de toon. Hier en daar meende ik zelfs een verdoken vooruitwijzing te ontwaren naar ; over het sterven van oude mannen met een jong meisje aan hun zijde als ultieme vorm van schoonheid, troost en melancholie.
Toch blijft deze roman down to earth, ook al krijgen de dromen van Shingo een belangrijke rol toebedeeld. Net als de natuur overigens; nog zo'n Kawabata-ingredi?nt. Seizoensbloemen, bloesembomen, een hond, een slang, sprinkhanen ... stuk voor stuk worden ze door de verhaallijn gevlochten en zorgen ze voor die onnavolgbare natuursymboliek die het behalve Japans of Kawabataans ook po?tisch en betoverend maakt, zonder ook maar ergens clich¨¦matig of sentimenteel te gaan klinken.
January 7, 2020
That's the Sound of Life, That's the Sound of Death
Kawabata Yasunari won the Nobel Prize in 1968 and this novel above all his others, in my opinion, gives readers a chance to find out why. This is a classic of world literature, a work of genius. It is a finely-written tale of family, a simple story about an older man who is fond of his daughter-in-law, though his relations with his own two grown children, son and divorced daughter, are ambiguous. The story line, as in other Kawabata novels, is simple----there are no great events, no dramatic conclusions or climaxes. Natural phenomena---birds, animals, plants, and weather---play a large role in setting the mood and are used as symbols throughout. Far from being a recurring theme, the "sound of the mountain" is heard only once, on page 10, yet it and many other signs presage changes in life that follow a pattern unseen by human eyes.
The most amazing thing about THE SOUND OF THE MOUNTAIN is its capacity to summarize or to encapsulate family life, the complexity of family relationships. The only other book I know that comes close is Australian author Christina Stead's "The Man Who Loved Children", but that is a most verbose book whose characters verbalize nearly every emotion, or else the author does it for them. Kawabata's understated novel, however, succeeds in portraying family life equally well, if not better, with an absolute minimum of brush strokes. The indecision, the steps not taken, the regrets, the lost loves who return in dreams---all the myriad small events from which marriages and families are constructed---flow in a way that is both typically Japanese and universal. Shingo, the old man, was particularly kind towards Kikuko, his daughter in law, who "was for him a window looking out of a gloomy house." "Kindness towards her was a beam lighting isolation. It was a way of pampering himself, of bringing a touch of mellowness into his life." There is nothing so definite (or crass) as an out-and-out love affair between the two. Rather, there are solutions that are no solutions, compromises that have to paper over the disappointments. Life goes on and Hollywood is for children. What a brilliant book !
Kawabata Yasunari won the Nobel Prize in 1968 and this novel above all his others, in my opinion, gives readers a chance to find out why. This is a classic of world literature, a work of genius. It is a finely-written tale of family, a simple story about an older man who is fond of his daughter-in-law, though his relations with his own two grown children, son and divorced daughter, are ambiguous. The story line, as in other Kawabata novels, is simple----there are no great events, no dramatic conclusions or climaxes. Natural phenomena---birds, animals, plants, and weather---play a large role in setting the mood and are used as symbols throughout. Far from being a recurring theme, the "sound of the mountain" is heard only once, on page 10, yet it and many other signs presage changes in life that follow a pattern unseen by human eyes.
The most amazing thing about THE SOUND OF THE MOUNTAIN is its capacity to summarize or to encapsulate family life, the complexity of family relationships. The only other book I know that comes close is Australian author Christina Stead's "The Man Who Loved Children", but that is a most verbose book whose characters verbalize nearly every emotion, or else the author does it for them. Kawabata's understated novel, however, succeeds in portraying family life equally well, if not better, with an absolute minimum of brush strokes. The indecision, the steps not taken, the regrets, the lost loves who return in dreams---all the myriad small events from which marriages and families are constructed---flow in a way that is both typically Japanese and universal. Shingo, the old man, was particularly kind towards Kikuko, his daughter in law, who "was for him a window looking out of a gloomy house." "Kindness towards her was a beam lighting isolation. It was a way of pampering himself, of bringing a touch of mellowness into his life." There is nothing so definite (or crass) as an out-and-out love affair between the two. Rather, there are solutions that are no solutions, compromises that have to paper over the disappointments. Life goes on and Hollywood is for children. What a brilliant book !
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