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????? ?? ????? ???????? ??????? ? ????? ?????? ?? ?????? ?????? ??????? ? ???? ?? ???? ? ????? ????? ??? 1963? ????? ??? ????? ?????? ????? ????? ? ????? ?????? ?????? ????? ??? ????? ????? ?? ?????? ???? ????? ???? ? ????? ??? ??????? ??? 1964? ? ????? ??? (????) ?? ??? ??? ??????? ??????? ? ????? ???? (????) ?? ??????? ???????? ?? ???? (??? ??? ?????? ??? ??? ???????) ? ??? ?? ??? ???? ?? ??? ????? ? ???? ??????? ??? ?? ???? ???? ???? ? ??? ?? ??? ?? ????? ! ??? ???? ????? ?? ????????? ???? ???? ? ????? ????? ??????? ???? ?? ???? ?????? ?????? ???? ???? . ?????? ?? ???? ??? ????? ?? ??? ????? ??????? ? ????? ???? ?? ???? ? ???? ???????? ?? ?????? ?? ?????? ??? ????? ! ???? ???? ???? ???? ?????? ? ??? ??????? ????? ????? ??? ???????? ? ?????? ?? ????? ????? ???? ???? ???? ??????? ?? ??? ? ???? ?? ????? ??????? ?? ??? ??? ??? ??? ??? . ??? ???? ?????? ?????? ?? ????? ??? ???? ? ??? ?? ????? ? ????? ????? ? ????? ?? ??????? ??????!
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??? ??? ????? ??? (???) ?????? ????? ?????? ???? ?????? ? ?????? ?????? ???? ??????? ??? ?????? ????? ????? ?????? ?????? ?????? ???? ????? ? ???? ?? ????? ??????? ? ??? ?????? ?? ???????? ??? ???????? . ??? ???? ????? ??????? ?? ???? ???? ????? ?????? ???? ?????? ????? ????? ? ??????? ?? ????????? ? ??? ?? ?? ??????? ?? ?????? ?? ?? ??????? ???????? ?? ????? ???? ? ????? ??????? ???????? ?????? ? ???? ?????? ?????? ? ????? ??????? ????? . ??? ?? ?????? ?? ?????? ??????? ?? ???? ??????? ? ?????? ???????? ??? ??????? ???? ??? ????? ?? ?????? ??? ??? ??????? ?? (???? ???).
??? ?? ??? ??????? ????? ???????? ?????? ?????? ???????? ??? ??? ??? ?????? ? ????? ???????? ? ????? ??????? ? ????? ????????? . (???? ?????? " ?????? " ????? ? ????? 304 ? ?????? 1995? ? ?? ????? : ?????? ?????? ?? ???? ????? ? ???? ???) .
??? ??? ????? ??? (???) ?????? ????? ?????? ???? ?????? ? ?????? ?????? ???? ??????? ??? ?????? ????? ????? ?????? ?????? ?????? ???? ????? ? ???? ?? ????? ??????? ? ??? ?????? ?? ???????? ??? ???????? . ??? ???? ????? ??????? ?? ???? ???? ????? ?????? ???? ?????? ????? ????? ? ??????? ?? ????????? ? ??? ?? ?? ??????? ?? ?????? ?? ?? ??????? ???????? ?? ????? ???? ? ????? ??????? ???????? ?????? ? ???? ?????? ?????? ? ????? ??????? ????? . ??? ?? ?????? ?? ?????? ??????? ?? ???? ??????? ? ?????? ???????? ??? ??????? ???? ??? ????? ?? ?????? ??? ??? ??????? ?? (???? ???).
158 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1964
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26191 people want to read
About the author
Kenzaburō ?e
226?books1,627?followersKenzaburō ?e (大江 健三郎), is a major figure in contemporary Japanese literature. His works, strongly influenced by French and American literature and literary theory, engage with political, social and philosophical issues including nuclear weapons, social non-conformism and existentialism.
?e was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1994 for creating "an imagined world, where life and myth condense to form a disconcerting picture of the human predicament today."
?e was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1994 for creating "an imagined world, where life and myth condense to form a disconcerting picture of the human predicament today."
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,610 reviews
December 28, 2021
[Edited for typos etc. 12/28/2021]
Not a pretty story. The main character is a man who has just learned that his wife gave birth to a boy with a deformed head and brain damage. His primary feelings about the baby are shame and disgust. He thinks of the baby as “the monstrosity” and the “vegetable baby.”
It seems impossible today, in western culture at least, to see how much in male-dominated Japan the mother of the child was left in ignorance of all that was happening. It’s disturbing to see how her husband, her own mother, and the doctors all keep the mother in the dark. They take the baby away from her without her seeing its obvious deformity and tell her only that “it has a minor heart problem.”
The father assumes the baby will die and then he will tell his wife. He thinks “Today I’ll mourn the baby alone, tomorrow I’ll report our misfortune to my wife.” About the baby, he tells his woman friend “You’re right about this being limited to me, it’s entirely a personal matter.” (Thus the book’s title.) It’s also “personal” because in real life the author has a brain-damaged son who is a major character in four of his novels.
The father is a man who had a bout with alcohol years ago that forced him to drop out of college. So he has a low-status job as a cram-school instructor. When the main character tells his father-in-law the news of the deformed baby (the mother still does not know) even though his father-in-law knows he is on the wagon, he gives his son-in-law a bottle of scotch, with the obvious result.
While his wife is still in the hospital and the baby is clinging to life by a thread, he seeks solace by sleeping with a woman friend from times past.
There are also background passages based on news about the possibility of nuclear war. After all, we’re in Japan ten years after WW II and the author has written several novels about the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
There’s good, but not great writing. I liked this: “In the way she moved, too, was something to suggest the confusion of the immigrant who is never quite at ease in his new country.” Perhaps due to the translation some metaphors fall flat: “Bird [a man] was as empty inside as an unloaded warehouse.” Every once in a while, almost as if to show he can do it, the author goes into an elaborately detailed description on a topic: almost a page on the clothing and body of a sinewy laborer; three pages on vomiting as he comes out of his alcoholic stupor. By American standards in 1964 there’s some pretty graphic sex.
This book was written in 1964. The author won the Nobel Prize in 1994. He published a book, Late Style, in 2013. Born in 1935, the author will be 87 in 2022.
Top photo from nytimes.com
Photo of Mount Fuji from exploreshizuoka.com
Photo of the author from wikipedia
Not a pretty story. The main character is a man who has just learned that his wife gave birth to a boy with a deformed head and brain damage. His primary feelings about the baby are shame and disgust. He thinks of the baby as “the monstrosity” and the “vegetable baby.”
It seems impossible today, in western culture at least, to see how much in male-dominated Japan the mother of the child was left in ignorance of all that was happening. It’s disturbing to see how her husband, her own mother, and the doctors all keep the mother in the dark. They take the baby away from her without her seeing its obvious deformity and tell her only that “it has a minor heart problem.”
The father assumes the baby will die and then he will tell his wife. He thinks “Today I’ll mourn the baby alone, tomorrow I’ll report our misfortune to my wife.” About the baby, he tells his woman friend “You’re right about this being limited to me, it’s entirely a personal matter.” (Thus the book’s title.) It’s also “personal” because in real life the author has a brain-damaged son who is a major character in four of his novels.
The father is a man who had a bout with alcohol years ago that forced him to drop out of college. So he has a low-status job as a cram-school instructor. When the main character tells his father-in-law the news of the deformed baby (the mother still does not know) even though his father-in-law knows he is on the wagon, he gives his son-in-law a bottle of scotch, with the obvious result.
While his wife is still in the hospital and the baby is clinging to life by a thread, he seeks solace by sleeping with a woman friend from times past.
There are also background passages based on news about the possibility of nuclear war. After all, we’re in Japan ten years after WW II and the author has written several novels about the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
There’s good, but not great writing. I liked this: “In the way she moved, too, was something to suggest the confusion of the immigrant who is never quite at ease in his new country.” Perhaps due to the translation some metaphors fall flat: “Bird [a man] was as empty inside as an unloaded warehouse.” Every once in a while, almost as if to show he can do it, the author goes into an elaborately detailed description on a topic: almost a page on the clothing and body of a sinewy laborer; three pages on vomiting as he comes out of his alcoholic stupor. By American standards in 1964 there’s some pretty graphic sex.
This book was written in 1964. The author won the Nobel Prize in 1994. He published a book, Late Style, in 2013. Born in 1935, the author will be 87 in 2022.
Top photo from nytimes.com
Photo of Mount Fuji from exploreshizuoka.com
Photo of the author from wikipedia
May 29, 2013
Reading A Personal Matter is nothing less than an agonizing experience.
It almost feels like somebody poking at and opening up our most secret, suppurating, psychological wounds and making them bleed all over again, thereby compelling us to wake up to the realization of their existence.
These scars and bruises make their presence known time and again by causing us pain of the highest order. And so we proceed to wrap them up in the protective wadding of false pretensions, carefully hiding them away from the scrutiny of the rest of the world and more importantly, ourselves.
But Kenzaburō ?e does not only wish to cause us pain. He also forces us to acknowledge its perpetuity, accept it and achieve a state of harmony with it.
With every turn of a page, we find ourselves plunging deeper into the bottomless pit of shame, self-loathing and sheer grief along with Bird, our protagonist. But ?e breaks our fall right when we feel we are about to land with a resounding thud and teaches us how to rise, how to summon the courage to confront grim reality and reconcile ourselves with the cruelties inflicted by fate.
Bird (nickname), a young man of twenty seven, keeps drifting in and out of consciousness throughout the length of the narrative. While walking along a busy Tokyo street he is capable of sparing a thought for his pregnant wife experiencing labour pains at the hospital and alternately seeking escapism in the form of dreaming about landscapes of Africa, a continent he desperately wishes to visit some day. He neither seems to feel passionately about his wife nor about the job at the cram school he has landed thanks to the benevolence of his father-in-law. In a sense, he is apathetic to his own life but we are shown that he is not immune from feelings of embarrassment.
Weak-willed and jittery, he refuses to accept the birth of a child with a grotesque lump on its head and crucial genetic deformities. He is appalled to hear his baby would never grow up as a normal child and shamelessly gives in to feelings of utter relief, when he hears from the doctor that chances of his baby's survival are next to none. Although immediately afterwards, he suffers from a keen self-hatred.
Over the course of the next few days, like the most cowardly criminal ever, he plots his own baby's murder - by conspiring with the doctor to substitute his supply of milk with sweetened water and, when that fails, by taking the baby to the clinic of a shady abortionist. Yet at the same time he shudders in revulsion at the thought of having to kill a helpless, sick little child with his bare hands. He fears being in the presence of his wife and mother-in-law both of whom seem to blame him for everything, and seeks solace in violent sex with an old lover.
Thus, Bird, seems to possess no redeeming characteristics whatsoever. He is a failure at life and everything he does. He is selfish to the point of entertaining ideas of running away with his lover to Africa, abandoning all his responsibilities. He only views his biological child as a callously assembled, defective mass of flesh, blood and bone. He refuses to give him a name or even acknowledge his gender and burden himself with the task of acquainting himself with his newborn son.
Bird is despicable in the true sense of the term.
But then at the same time, Bird is also the very personification of all our worst human weaknesses. He disgusts the reader but he also evokes feelings of sympathy and solidarity.
Because if we maybe honest enough with ourselves, there's a Bird in each one of us and his deformed baby is merely a symbol of the indignities of our own personal existence.
Slowly as the days trickle by after the birth of the unwanted child, Bird starts viewing the entity he repeatedly refers to as 'the monster baby', as a human offspring blessed with the powers of sensation and expression. It seems this indisputable fact had eluded him so far.
Thus begins Bird's gradual transformation, which the reader witnesses with mixed feelings. As he comes full circle, traversing the seemingly infinite distance between madness and sanity, so does the reader.
And when he finally finds hope in a hopeless place and sets into motion the long, convoluted process of acceptance, it is not the predictability of this ending which strikes us.
Rather, we are moved by the truth in Bird's realizations and actions.
?e has written about such a deeply personal aspect of his life (being the father to a brain-damaged son himself) with a mastery, truly characteristic of a Nobel Laureate. His writing isn't wordy or verbose yet it hits the reader's most vulnerable spot every time and makes one feel raw and cut up deep inside.
He does not want us to shed copious tears at the misfortunes that befall Bird or feel only an acute hatred for his indecision, but experience the entire gamut of human actions and emotions, no matter how blasphemous or socially condemnable each one of them maybe.
In slow succession, the reader becomes-
Bird, the indifferent cram school teacher.
Bird, the day-dreamer.
Bird, the miserable failure of a man.
Bird, the conspiring murderer.
Bird, the unfaithful husband.
And at the very end, Bird, the accepting father.
As one plows along, it becomes apparent that ?e's aim has not been self-indulgent or cathartic story-telling, but instead, to take the whole world along on an immensely difficult journey, he must have embarked on all alone at some point.
Thus, A Personal Matter, ceases to be just about a personal matter somewhere.
Instead, it becomes one of the most life-affirming stories ever, meant to serve as a panacea for the ones suffering from the affliction of an undignified existence.
?e knows all too well, that he cannot make the pain go away. So he gifts us with the strength to endure it instead.
It almost feels like somebody poking at and opening up our most secret, suppurating, psychological wounds and making them bleed all over again, thereby compelling us to wake up to the realization of their existence.
These scars and bruises make their presence known time and again by causing us pain of the highest order. And so we proceed to wrap them up in the protective wadding of false pretensions, carefully hiding them away from the scrutiny of the rest of the world and more importantly, ourselves.
But Kenzaburō ?e does not only wish to cause us pain. He also forces us to acknowledge its perpetuity, accept it and achieve a state of harmony with it.
With every turn of a page, we find ourselves plunging deeper into the bottomless pit of shame, self-loathing and sheer grief along with Bird, our protagonist. But ?e breaks our fall right when we feel we are about to land with a resounding thud and teaches us how to rise, how to summon the courage to confront grim reality and reconcile ourselves with the cruelties inflicted by fate.
Bird (nickname), a young man of twenty seven, keeps drifting in and out of consciousness throughout the length of the narrative. While walking along a busy Tokyo street he is capable of sparing a thought for his pregnant wife experiencing labour pains at the hospital and alternately seeking escapism in the form of dreaming about landscapes of Africa, a continent he desperately wishes to visit some day. He neither seems to feel passionately about his wife nor about the job at the cram school he has landed thanks to the benevolence of his father-in-law. In a sense, he is apathetic to his own life but we are shown that he is not immune from feelings of embarrassment.
Weak-willed and jittery, he refuses to accept the birth of a child with a grotesque lump on its head and crucial genetic deformities. He is appalled to hear his baby would never grow up as a normal child and shamelessly gives in to feelings of utter relief, when he hears from the doctor that chances of his baby's survival are next to none. Although immediately afterwards, he suffers from a keen self-hatred.
Over the course of the next few days, like the most cowardly criminal ever, he plots his own baby's murder - by conspiring with the doctor to substitute his supply of milk with sweetened water and, when that fails, by taking the baby to the clinic of a shady abortionist. Yet at the same time he shudders in revulsion at the thought of having to kill a helpless, sick little child with his bare hands. He fears being in the presence of his wife and mother-in-law both of whom seem to blame him for everything, and seeks solace in violent sex with an old lover.
Thus, Bird, seems to possess no redeeming characteristics whatsoever. He is a failure at life and everything he does. He is selfish to the point of entertaining ideas of running away with his lover to Africa, abandoning all his responsibilities. He only views his biological child as a callously assembled, defective mass of flesh, blood and bone. He refuses to give him a name or even acknowledge his gender and burden himself with the task of acquainting himself with his newborn son.
Bird is despicable in the true sense of the term.
But then at the same time, Bird is also the very personification of all our worst human weaknesses. He disgusts the reader but he also evokes feelings of sympathy and solidarity.
Because if we maybe honest enough with ourselves, there's a Bird in each one of us and his deformed baby is merely a symbol of the indignities of our own personal existence.
Slowly as the days trickle by after the birth of the unwanted child, Bird starts viewing the entity he repeatedly refers to as 'the monster baby', as a human offspring blessed with the powers of sensation and expression. It seems this indisputable fact had eluded him so far.
Thus begins Bird's gradual transformation, which the reader witnesses with mixed feelings. As he comes full circle, traversing the seemingly infinite distance between madness and sanity, so does the reader.
And when he finally finds hope in a hopeless place and sets into motion the long, convoluted process of acceptance, it is not the predictability of this ending which strikes us.
Rather, we are moved by the truth in Bird's realizations and actions.
?e has written about such a deeply personal aspect of his life (being the father to a brain-damaged son himself) with a mastery, truly characteristic of a Nobel Laureate. His writing isn't wordy or verbose yet it hits the reader's most vulnerable spot every time and makes one feel raw and cut up deep inside.
"The baby was no longer on the verge of death; no longer would the sweet, easy tears of mourning melt it away as if it were a simple jelly. The baby continued to live, and it was oppressing Bird, even beginning to attack him. Swaddled in skin as red as shrimp which gleamed with the luster of scar tissue, the baby was beginning ferociously to live, dragging its anchor of a heavy lump."
He does not want us to shed copious tears at the misfortunes that befall Bird or feel only an acute hatred for his indecision, but experience the entire gamut of human actions and emotions, no matter how blasphemous or socially condemnable each one of them maybe.
In slow succession, the reader becomes-
Bird, the indifferent cram school teacher.
Bird, the day-dreamer.
Bird, the miserable failure of a man.
Bird, the conspiring murderer.
Bird, the unfaithful husband.
And at the very end, Bird, the accepting father.
As one plows along, it becomes apparent that ?e's aim has not been self-indulgent or cathartic story-telling, but instead, to take the whole world along on an immensely difficult journey, he must have embarked on all alone at some point.
Thus, A Personal Matter, ceases to be just about a personal matter somewhere.
Instead, it becomes one of the most life-affirming stories ever, meant to serve as a panacea for the ones suffering from the affliction of an undignified existence.
?e knows all too well, that he cannot make the pain go away. So he gifts us with the strength to endure it instead.
August 2, 2010
People love this damn book but I wanted to climb inside the pages and tip our hero into a cement mixer so he could become part of the foundations of the new Tokyo and therefore perform the only useful act in his miserable life. I mean, fucking hell, get a grip.
March 7, 2018
Not in the Travel Brochures
Nothing about Japan, neither its culture nor its institutions, not to say its people, is portrayed with any sympathy in A Personal Matter. The tragedy of a grotesquely deformed child, while disconcerting and disruptive to everyone concerned - family, hospital staff, employer - is no more than that. “They were glimpsing an infinitesimal crack in the flat surface of everyday life and the sight filled them with innocent awe.”
The universal desire seems to be for escape, not just from one’s circumstances, or from the constraints of modern living, but from organic life itself. Everything about the human body is disgusting - from the description of female genitalia directly after birth, to the forced vomiting of the residue of a bottle of Scotch, to the ‘brain hernia’ of the child. Sex is either rape or routine self-indulgence. Eating is of the coarsest fast food. Sleep is a time of nightmares. Social relations are either violent or exploitative. Kindness is unknown.
All the characters are vaguely inhuman as well as inhumane. Bird, the protagonist, wanders the streets aimlessly and gets into fistfights while his wife is in labour. His ex-girlfriend, Himiko, when not having sex with strangers, meditates all day on a ramifying quantum universe, and drives her MG sports car around all night, equally aimlessly. The father-law-law, hearing of his deformed grandson’s birth, provides Bird with a bottle of whisky, knowing he is an alcoholic. The mother-in-law refuses even to make eye contact with Bird. Bird’s wife is a mere cypher of maternal concern.
The depth of thought, or lack of it, provoked by the situation is startling: “Does a vegetable suffer?” The child, at most, is a medical case study and interesting autopsy. At a time, one would expect, of intense grief, Bird’s principle worry is about himself: “Bird was terrified of being responsible for any mishap in the world of present time.” Kenzaburo seems to be locating the tragedy not with the infant but with the entire society in which the infant happens to appear.
So obviously this is not about A Personal Matter at all. The irony clearly is meant to enmesh all of Japanese life in this single incident. Can the redemptive decision of an individual make any difference? Beyond that it seems to me impossible for a non-Japanese to comment. Not a book, therefore, likely to be suggested reading by the Japanese Tourist Agency.
Nothing about Japan, neither its culture nor its institutions, not to say its people, is portrayed with any sympathy in A Personal Matter. The tragedy of a grotesquely deformed child, while disconcerting and disruptive to everyone concerned - family, hospital staff, employer - is no more than that. “They were glimpsing an infinitesimal crack in the flat surface of everyday life and the sight filled them with innocent awe.”
The universal desire seems to be for escape, not just from one’s circumstances, or from the constraints of modern living, but from organic life itself. Everything about the human body is disgusting - from the description of female genitalia directly after birth, to the forced vomiting of the residue of a bottle of Scotch, to the ‘brain hernia’ of the child. Sex is either rape or routine self-indulgence. Eating is of the coarsest fast food. Sleep is a time of nightmares. Social relations are either violent or exploitative. Kindness is unknown.
All the characters are vaguely inhuman as well as inhumane. Bird, the protagonist, wanders the streets aimlessly and gets into fistfights while his wife is in labour. His ex-girlfriend, Himiko, when not having sex with strangers, meditates all day on a ramifying quantum universe, and drives her MG sports car around all night, equally aimlessly. The father-law-law, hearing of his deformed grandson’s birth, provides Bird with a bottle of whisky, knowing he is an alcoholic. The mother-in-law refuses even to make eye contact with Bird. Bird’s wife is a mere cypher of maternal concern.
The depth of thought, or lack of it, provoked by the situation is startling: “Does a vegetable suffer?” The child, at most, is a medical case study and interesting autopsy. At a time, one would expect, of intense grief, Bird’s principle worry is about himself: “Bird was terrified of being responsible for any mishap in the world of present time.” Kenzaburo seems to be locating the tragedy not with the infant but with the entire society in which the infant happens to appear.
So obviously this is not about A Personal Matter at all. The irony clearly is meant to enmesh all of Japanese life in this single incident. Can the redemptive decision of an individual make any difference? Beyond that it seems to me impossible for a non-Japanese to comment. Not a book, therefore, likely to be suggested reading by the Japanese Tourist Agency.
August 27, 2018
Imagine your child was born with his brain outside of his head. How would you feel? What would you think? Would a very small part of you think, maybe it would be better for everyone if he didn't survive? What if part of you couldn't stop thinking, if he survives, my life will become much less fun? What if part of you thought, I didn't even completely want a kid in the first place, much less this disaster? What if part of you was like, this is going to screw up my vacation plans?
I don't know what I would think. I've been to dark places but not this dark, and it'd be presumptuous to think I might know what it'd bring out in me. Japanese Nobel-winner Kenzaburō ?e has been here, though - in his actual life - and there's no reaction too dark, no shame too personal for him to confess on paper in this lacerating nightmare of a novel. "My son was wounded on a dark and lonely battlefield that I have never seen," says his semiautobiographical protagonist Bird, "and he has arrived with his head in bandages." He proceeds to get drunk with his mistress for several days straight. They're waiting for the child to die of his dreadful birth defects. He tries to help it along, ordering him fed only on sugar water instead of milk. But "the baby continued to live, and it was oppressing Bird, even beginning to attack him. Swaddled in skin as red as shrimp which gleamed with the luster of scar tissue, the baby was beginning ferociously to live, dragging its anchor of a heavy lump. A vegetable existence? Maybe so; a deadly cactus." Bird starts to panic as the child refuses to die. "How can we spend the rest of our lives, my wife and I, with a monster baby riding on our backs? Somehow I must get away from the monster baby. If I don't, ah, what will become of my trip to Africa?"
If that sounds absolutely appalling it absolutely is, and I found it to be a deeply disturbing and...and kind book. Because what's ?e done here? He's laid open this abyss of humanity, right? What if you did have a crisis like this? What if you had a reaction like this, even a tiny bit like this? What kind of monster would you be? I don't know, but you wouldn't be alone. ?e has rappelled down there to keep you company. It's infinitely brave and this is my favorite book of the year so far. I hope you never see this kind of pain, but if you do I hope you remember this book. Also I hope you don't have a cool vacation planned.
I don't know what I would think. I've been to dark places but not this dark, and it'd be presumptuous to think I might know what it'd bring out in me. Japanese Nobel-winner Kenzaburō ?e has been here, though - in his actual life - and there's no reaction too dark, no shame too personal for him to confess on paper in this lacerating nightmare of a novel. "My son was wounded on a dark and lonely battlefield that I have never seen," says his semiautobiographical protagonist Bird, "and he has arrived with his head in bandages." He proceeds to get drunk with his mistress for several days straight. They're waiting for the child to die of his dreadful birth defects. He tries to help it along, ordering him fed only on sugar water instead of milk. But "the baby continued to live, and it was oppressing Bird, even beginning to attack him. Swaddled in skin as red as shrimp which gleamed with the luster of scar tissue, the baby was beginning ferociously to live, dragging its anchor of a heavy lump. A vegetable existence? Maybe so; a deadly cactus." Bird starts to panic as the child refuses to die. "How can we spend the rest of our lives, my wife and I, with a monster baby riding on our backs? Somehow I must get away from the monster baby. If I don't, ah, what will become of my trip to Africa?"
If that sounds absolutely appalling it absolutely is, and I found it to be a deeply disturbing and...and kind book. Because what's ?e done here? He's laid open this abyss of humanity, right? What if you did have a crisis like this? What if you had a reaction like this, even a tiny bit like this? What kind of monster would you be? I don't know, but you wouldn't be alone. ?e has rappelled down there to keep you company. It's infinitely brave and this is my favorite book of the year so far. I hope you never see this kind of pain, but if you do I hope you remember this book. Also I hope you don't have a cool vacation planned.
March 26, 2023
Audiobook….read by Eric Michael Summerer
….7 hours and 9 minutes
Nobel Prize winner of literature in 1994.
Kenzaburo Oe, a beautiful Japanese writer, recently died at the age 88 on March 3rd, 2003….
I knew I wanted to read more of his books. This one was the perfect choice.
“A Personal Matter”, first Published in 1964, describes a psychological trauma involved in accepting the brain-damaged son into his life”.
Oe’s own son, Hikari, was born in 1963 with a brain hernia.
Doctors explained that if Hikari did not have surgery— he would die, but with the operation, Hikari, would leave severe disabilities.
“A Personal Matter”…. is sooooo personal (semi-autobiographical: and boy do we feel it)…..
One can never forget the scene when a doctor says to Bird (about his newborn infant son):
“Would you like to see the goods, first?”…..asked the doctor > speaking to Bird.
OMF….ing GOD!!!!!
‘The goods’ referred to his INFANT SON!!!!
Can you imagine?
Bird asked, “Is he alive?”
He certainly is said the doctor.
Wow….. that ‘GOODS’
moment was hard to swallow.
It was also hard to swallow that Bird’s wife — was completely left in the dark about the baby she had just delivered.
Boy —this story had me in knots. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.
And,
as much as I wanted to thoroughly ‘love’ this book… not that love is the perfect word, but, for lack of a better one, I really wanted to like this book, connect with this book, resonate with this book, feel this book, all the important things…..
but couldn’t do it alone.
Let me TRY to explain —
it’s not as though I didn’t listen intently to this story - as is ..
but I kept having an impatient, irritable feeling —
a ‘stronger’ drive to read more about every detail of the Oe’s truest story.
And once I did dive further into my own research about Oe’s son…..
My mind settled down enough to appreciate this story more…..and just how well written it is — and why it’s written as it is.
At first I found the beginning of this book irritating because there were descriptions about maps that kinda… (forgive me) were not terribly interesting. I just wanted to get to the heart of the story faster.
In time - the heart-of-the-story picked up:
— sad — (no other word describes it better: sad)…..
with a hopeful ending I appreciated.
I took ‘listening-breaks’ to research more about Oe and his son: Hikari.
As I don’t know how anyone could possibly read/or listen to this book without wanting to know more — the desire to know where the inspiration (again a lacking word) came from for Oe to write ‘this’ story.
And I see now — even though I had read Kenzaburo Oe before — reading ‘this’ book is almost a vital prerequisite — into the mind of a brilliant author and all his other works. I do hope to read every one of Oe’s books.
I feel a strong connection- and I’m sad for his loss - for his family who loved him — even perhaps thrived because of him.
A little about Hikari Oe:
….He was born autistic and developmentally disabled.
Doctors tried to convince the parents to let Hikari die.
“Even after an operation, Hikari remained, visually impaired, developmentally delayed, epileptic and with limited physical coordination.
He does not speak much”.
When Hikari was a child — he responded to the sound of birds.
His parents hired a music teacher, and in time Hikari began to express his feelings through musical composition.
He was later taught music notation.
Today, at age 59 - it is known that Hikari has sold more CD’s than his dad books.
Kenzaburo Oe was very proud dad!!!
Hikari creates chamber music .
Pretty inspiring story!!!
Okay…. back to review this book:
…..础蹿迟别谤….
……being very hard to get over that ‘goods’ comment.
Bird had to make the choice — let the baby die (could be in a day or two)…..or opt for the surgery….knowing the risks — that there was no chance that his son would ever develop (forgiving a better choice word), normally.
I couldn’t blame the anger Bird felt toward the yucky doctor with an inappropriate giggle.
The first person his infant son saw coming into this world was the
“hairy pork chop of a little man” >> a callous insensitive doctor.
叠耻迟….
I was also angry at Bird, too!!! He wasn’t a hairy pork chop of a little man himself— but he was certainly no mensch-of-a-man either.
I understand that Bird was dealing with guilt and shame—having monstrous thoughts about his son — but he took no responsibility when he needed to most …
Instead he indulged in self-loathing behaviors….
BUT…..my anger was not with BLAME either —
Because I also had to do the hard work - look at myself —
I already had a conversation about this book with Paul, (my husband)….
We each concluded how appropriate this title is — “A — *very* Personal Matter ….
So much to say about this book — desires to discuss it. I can’t imagine finishing this book and not having somebody to talk with about it.
Fact is:
The grief was overwhelming.
It’s painful to think about many of the shocking scenes we read.
Yet….it’s written with such gut honesty — that
“A Personal Matter” becomes one of those books where we know it’s changed us —
The prose - the humanity - the darkness - the personal matter - its all brilliantly entangled in our own souls.
A very powerful fearless affecting book!!!
My only regret is that I didn’t read this years ago.
I miss a man: Kenzaburo Oe!
I never met him, but I sure would have loved to.
….7 hours and 9 minutes
Nobel Prize winner of literature in 1994.
Kenzaburo Oe, a beautiful Japanese writer, recently died at the age 88 on March 3rd, 2003….
I knew I wanted to read more of his books. This one was the perfect choice.
“A Personal Matter”, first Published in 1964, describes a psychological trauma involved in accepting the brain-damaged son into his life”.
Oe’s own son, Hikari, was born in 1963 with a brain hernia.
Doctors explained that if Hikari did not have surgery— he would die, but with the operation, Hikari, would leave severe disabilities.
“A Personal Matter”…. is sooooo personal (semi-autobiographical: and boy do we feel it)…..
One can never forget the scene when a doctor says to Bird (about his newborn infant son):
“Would you like to see the goods, first?”…..asked the doctor > speaking to Bird.
OMF….ing GOD!!!!!
‘The goods’ referred to his INFANT SON!!!!
Can you imagine?
Bird asked, “Is he alive?”
He certainly is said the doctor.
Wow….. that ‘GOODS’
moment was hard to swallow.
It was also hard to swallow that Bird’s wife — was completely left in the dark about the baby she had just delivered.
Boy —this story had me in knots. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget it.
And,
as much as I wanted to thoroughly ‘love’ this book… not that love is the perfect word, but, for lack of a better one, I really wanted to like this book, connect with this book, resonate with this book, feel this book, all the important things…..
but couldn’t do it alone.
Let me TRY to explain —
it’s not as though I didn’t listen intently to this story - as is ..
but I kept having an impatient, irritable feeling —
a ‘stronger’ drive to read more about every detail of the Oe’s truest story.
And once I did dive further into my own research about Oe’s son…..
My mind settled down enough to appreciate this story more…..and just how well written it is — and why it’s written as it is.
At first I found the beginning of this book irritating because there were descriptions about maps that kinda… (forgive me) were not terribly interesting. I just wanted to get to the heart of the story faster.
In time - the heart-of-the-story picked up:
— sad — (no other word describes it better: sad)…..
with a hopeful ending I appreciated.
I took ‘listening-breaks’ to research more about Oe and his son: Hikari.
As I don’t know how anyone could possibly read/or listen to this book without wanting to know more — the desire to know where the inspiration (again a lacking word) came from for Oe to write ‘this’ story.
And I see now — even though I had read Kenzaburo Oe before — reading ‘this’ book is almost a vital prerequisite — into the mind of a brilliant author and all his other works. I do hope to read every one of Oe’s books.
I feel a strong connection- and I’m sad for his loss - for his family who loved him — even perhaps thrived because of him.
A little about Hikari Oe:
….He was born autistic and developmentally disabled.
Doctors tried to convince the parents to let Hikari die.
“Even after an operation, Hikari remained, visually impaired, developmentally delayed, epileptic and with limited physical coordination.
He does not speak much”.
When Hikari was a child — he responded to the sound of birds.
His parents hired a music teacher, and in time Hikari began to express his feelings through musical composition.
He was later taught music notation.
Today, at age 59 - it is known that Hikari has sold more CD’s than his dad books.
Kenzaburo Oe was very proud dad!!!
Hikari creates chamber music .
Pretty inspiring story!!!
Okay…. back to review this book:
…..础蹿迟别谤….
……being very hard to get over that ‘goods’ comment.
Bird had to make the choice — let the baby die (could be in a day or two)…..or opt for the surgery….knowing the risks — that there was no chance that his son would ever develop (forgiving a better choice word), normally.
I couldn’t blame the anger Bird felt toward the yucky doctor with an inappropriate giggle.
The first person his infant son saw coming into this world was the
“hairy pork chop of a little man” >> a callous insensitive doctor.
叠耻迟….
I was also angry at Bird, too!!! He wasn’t a hairy pork chop of a little man himself— but he was certainly no mensch-of-a-man either.
I understand that Bird was dealing with guilt and shame—having monstrous thoughts about his son — but he took no responsibility when he needed to most …
Instead he indulged in self-loathing behaviors….
BUT…..my anger was not with BLAME either —
Because I also had to do the hard work - look at myself —
I already had a conversation about this book with Paul, (my husband)….
We each concluded how appropriate this title is — “A — *very* Personal Matter ….
So much to say about this book — desires to discuss it. I can’t imagine finishing this book and not having somebody to talk with about it.
Fact is:
The grief was overwhelming.
It’s painful to think about many of the shocking scenes we read.
Yet….it’s written with such gut honesty — that
“A Personal Matter” becomes one of those books where we know it’s changed us —
The prose - the humanity - the darkness - the personal matter - its all brilliantly entangled in our own souls.
A very powerful fearless affecting book!!!
My only regret is that I didn’t read this years ago.
I miss a man: Kenzaburo Oe!
I never met him, but I sure would have loved to.
March 27, 2023
Re-posting in honor of Kenzaburō ?e, a prominent writer of contemporary Japanese literature. He died on Mar 3, 2023, at age 88.
What would you do if you were told that your baby is born brain damaged and will live for the rest of his life as a vegetable?
This is the psychological trauma and moral dilemma encountered by a 27-year-old Japanese man (Bird) and his wife who just had their first-born. In truth, A Personal Matter is a semi-autobiographical novel by Kenzaburō ?e, 1994 Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, whose eldest son was brain-damaged since birth.
At less than 200 pages, A Personal Matter is deeply affecting as the reader is made to share viscerally Bird’s terror, pain, and struggles as he tries desperately to come to terms with raising a mentally disabled child. Bird’s fears, attempts to escape his responsibility, shame, and guilt are rendered very palpable and despite my sympathy for his predicament, I cannot help several times feeling repulsed by his wish that his child would die.
The insensitivity of the hospital Director and doctors when they broke the dire news to Bird incensed me greatly. Bird was asked, “Would you like to see the goods first?” How horrible and dehumanizing to call a baby ‘the goods’! Another doctor when asked if the baby was suffering replied, “In your opinion, does a vegetable suffer?” Poor Bird thought, “Have I considered that a cabbage being munched by a goat was in pain?” Bitter humor.
It is odd how the confluence of stress and conflicting emotions triggered for Bird ‘a sprout of sexual desire’ and a longing for ‘antisocial sex.’ Mighty revolting. A good chunk of the novel described how Bird sought sexual comfort in his former girlfriend (Himiko) while his wife was convalescing in the hospital and not told of their baby’s condition.
You have to read this novel for yourself to find out the fate of the brain-damaged baby. I read the unfolding of this tale with bated breath.
A Personal Matter takes us beyond the dilemma of a fictional character to explore important issues about what gives meaning to life and what price we are willing to pay to be true to ourselves.
What would you do if you were told that your baby is born brain damaged and will live for the rest of his life as a vegetable?
This is the psychological trauma and moral dilemma encountered by a 27-year-old Japanese man (Bird) and his wife who just had their first-born. In truth, A Personal Matter is a semi-autobiographical novel by Kenzaburō ?e, 1994 Winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, whose eldest son was brain-damaged since birth.
At less than 200 pages, A Personal Matter is deeply affecting as the reader is made to share viscerally Bird’s terror, pain, and struggles as he tries desperately to come to terms with raising a mentally disabled child. Bird’s fears, attempts to escape his responsibility, shame, and guilt are rendered very palpable and despite my sympathy for his predicament, I cannot help several times feeling repulsed by his wish that his child would die.
The insensitivity of the hospital Director and doctors when they broke the dire news to Bird incensed me greatly. Bird was asked, “Would you like to see the goods first?” How horrible and dehumanizing to call a baby ‘the goods’! Another doctor when asked if the baby was suffering replied, “In your opinion, does a vegetable suffer?” Poor Bird thought, “Have I considered that a cabbage being munched by a goat was in pain?” Bitter humor.
It is odd how the confluence of stress and conflicting emotions triggered for Bird ‘a sprout of sexual desire’ and a longing for ‘antisocial sex.’ Mighty revolting. A good chunk of the novel described how Bird sought sexual comfort in his former girlfriend (Himiko) while his wife was convalescing in the hospital and not told of their baby’s condition.
You have to read this novel for yourself to find out the fate of the brain-damaged baby. I read the unfolding of this tale with bated breath.
A Personal Matter takes us beyond the dilemma of a fictional character to explore important issues about what gives meaning to life and what price we are willing to pay to be true to ourselves.
November 5, 2023
Maybe I'm cold , but I had a difficult time sympathizing with the main character of this novel.
Bird's wife gives birth to their first born child and the baby has a brain hernia - a portion of his brain has created a protruding pocket on the back of his skull. That would be horrible and I felt for the baby and his parents.
Bird, however, received less and less of my sympathy the longer the book went on. He copes by getting drunk and re-starting an affair, rarely thinking of his poor wife who is stuck in a hospital room without ever having seen her child. The doctors and Bird tell her it has an issue with an organ and will die.
You'd think Bird would think of his wife sometimes, but no, it's all about him - how people will look down on him for having a malformed baby, how it will affect his life and his plans to travel if the baby doesn't mercifully (for Bird) die.
In 228 pages, he doesn't consider how his wife feels and how she is coping. It's as though the baby is his alone, born from a synthetic, womanless womb.
The attitudes of the doctors are appalling, one doesn't even try to contain his glee of getting to watch the autopsy if and when the child dies.
Not much happens, the novel is all about Bird and how this affects him. It is semi-autobiographical which doesn't endear me to the author. Had Bird considered his wife's feelings at least some of the time, I would have had more respect and sympathy for him.
When there was something he thought about his wife or even his mistress, it was as though he saw them as objects. About his mistress: "that hint of flabbiness was a part of Himiko’s new life; it had nothing to do with Bird. The fatty roots beneath her skin would probably spread like fire and transform completely the shape of her body. Her breasts, too, would lose the little youth and freshness they retained."
Though his stomach was now "flaccid", it was the women's bodies that were flawed when they had the barest amount of fat, and oh poor Bird, that their bodies didn't stay like he wanted them to be.
At times it was like reading a pubescent boy's dream, with the mistress doing anything and everything sexual as long as it would make Bird happy. Even if it brought her pain, it didn't matter so long as Bird got off. Her pleasure came only in pleasing him.
It was as though she existed only as an extension of his wet dreams: "I’m only interested in doing something for you, Bird".
Not really a spoiler but just in case:
The GR blurb and the translator's note seem to have nothing to do with the novel I read. Maybe I'm too literal but I missed all the nuance, the "poetic force", and "the artful rebellion".
might have won a Nobel Prize for literature, but his work isn't for me.
Bird's wife gives birth to their first born child and the baby has a brain hernia - a portion of his brain has created a protruding pocket on the back of his skull. That would be horrible and I felt for the baby and his parents.
Bird, however, received less and less of my sympathy the longer the book went on. He copes by getting drunk and re-starting an affair, rarely thinking of his poor wife who is stuck in a hospital room without ever having seen her child. The doctors and Bird tell her it has an issue with an organ and will die.
You'd think Bird would think of his wife sometimes, but no, it's all about him - how people will look down on him for having a malformed baby, how it will affect his life and his plans to travel if the baby doesn't mercifully (for Bird) die.
In 228 pages, he doesn't consider how his wife feels and how she is coping. It's as though the baby is his alone, born from a synthetic, womanless womb.
The attitudes of the doctors are appalling, one doesn't even try to contain his glee of getting to watch the autopsy if and when the child dies.
Not much happens, the novel is all about Bird and how this affects him. It is semi-autobiographical which doesn't endear me to the author. Had Bird considered his wife's feelings at least some of the time, I would have had more respect and sympathy for him.
When there was something he thought about his wife or even his mistress, it was as though he saw them as objects. About his mistress: "that hint of flabbiness was a part of Himiko’s new life; it had nothing to do with Bird. The fatty roots beneath her skin would probably spread like fire and transform completely the shape of her body. Her breasts, too, would lose the little youth and freshness they retained."
Though his stomach was now "flaccid", it was the women's bodies that were flawed when they had the barest amount of fat, and oh poor Bird, that their bodies didn't stay like he wanted them to be.
At times it was like reading a pubescent boy's dream, with the mistress doing anything and everything sexual as long as it would make Bird happy. Even if it brought her pain, it didn't matter so long as Bird got off. Her pleasure came only in pleasing him.
It was as though she existed only as an extension of his wet dreams: "I’m only interested in doing something for you, Bird".
Not really a spoiler but just in case:
The GR blurb and the translator's note seem to have nothing to do with the novel I read. Maybe I'm too literal but I missed all the nuance, the "poetic force", and "the artful rebellion".
might have won a Nobel Prize for literature, but his work isn't for me.
January 25, 2019
It's often said that reading fiction develops one's capacity for empathy. Novels like this put that notion to the test.
The author, Kenzaburo Oe, has a son who was born with his brain partially outside of his head during a time when Japan's sense of public decorum didn't really allow for that sort of thing, and Bird, the protagonist in A Personal Matter, is a heightened version of himself, a golem formed out of some of the more unpleasant thoughts and feelings Oe had about it during that time. What follows is a deep exploration into shame, avoidance and trauma. It really is quite an ugly book, but it has to be to explore those kinds of themes.
And it is a personal matter, but it can be appreciated on various levels. Regardless of whether we agree with many of Bird's decisions throughout within his particular circumstances, sooner or later most of us will find ourselves in a situation where it feels as though we're in a tunnel with no light at the end, only to realise we were running in the wrong direction. Arguably, it could also be applied to Japan as a whole. In the aftermath of WW2, the country found itself on uncertain footing, but naturally it would have to accept the cards it was dealt and actively shape a future for itself,
The possibility of nuclear disaster is discussed towards the end of the book, and Himiko, Bird's lover, wonders if there are people out there who simply want to see the world end. Bird, who has displayed more than his fair share of destructive behaviour throughout in an attempt to avoid facing his shame, wonders if he might be one of them. Shame, rather than being penance or justice for evil, is often the cause of it.
Incidentally, Oe's son Hikari grew up to be one of the world's foremost savant composers.
This began as a possible 3-star book. By about half-way, it had become a solid 4-star one, but it ended in such a satisfying way that it rose to 5 stars. This one will stay with me for a long time.
The author, Kenzaburo Oe, has a son who was born with his brain partially outside of his head during a time when Japan's sense of public decorum didn't really allow for that sort of thing, and Bird, the protagonist in A Personal Matter, is a heightened version of himself, a golem formed out of some of the more unpleasant thoughts and feelings Oe had about it during that time. What follows is a deep exploration into shame, avoidance and trauma. It really is quite an ugly book, but it has to be to explore those kinds of themes.
And it is a personal matter, but it can be appreciated on various levels. Regardless of whether we agree with many of Bird's decisions throughout within his particular circumstances, sooner or later most of us will find ourselves in a situation where it feels as though we're in a tunnel with no light at the end, only to realise we were running in the wrong direction. Arguably, it could also be applied to Japan as a whole. In the aftermath of WW2, the country found itself on uncertain footing, but naturally it would have to accept the cards it was dealt and actively shape a future for itself,
The possibility of nuclear disaster is discussed towards the end of the book, and Himiko, Bird's lover, wonders if there are people out there who simply want to see the world end. Bird, who has displayed more than his fair share of destructive behaviour throughout in an attempt to avoid facing his shame, wonders if he might be one of them. Shame, rather than being penance or justice for evil, is often the cause of it.
Incidentally, Oe's son Hikari grew up to be one of the world's foremost savant composers.
This began as a possible 3-star book. By about half-way, it had become a solid 4-star one, but it ended in such a satisfying way that it rose to 5 stars. This one will stay with me for a long time.
May 4, 2025
“His father-in-law swung himself and the chair around to face him, the wooden rockers squeaking on the floor, and waved Bird into a swivel chair with long arm rests. "Was the baby born?" he asked. "Yes, the baby was born." Bird winced to hear his voice shrivel into a timid peep, and he closed his mouth. Then, compelling himself to say it all in one breath: "The baby has a brain hernia and the doctor says he'll die sometime tomorrow or the day after … the mother is fine!"
“Like Apollinaire, my son was wounded on a dark and lonely battlefield that I have never seen, and he has arrived with his head in bandages. I’ll have to bury him like a soldier who died at war. Bird continued to cry.”
“Sex for Bird and Himiko would be linked to the dying baby, linked to all of mankind's miseries, to the wretchedness so loathsome that people unafflicted pretended not to see it, an attitude they called humanism.”
“Kafka, you know, wrote in a letter to his father, the only thing a parent can do for a child is to welcome it when it arrives. And are you rejecting your baby instead? Can we excuse the egotism that rejects another life, because a man is a father?"
“You're right about this being limited to me, it's entirely a personal matter. But with some personal experiences that lead you into a cave all by yourself, you must eventually come to a side tunnel or something that opens on a truth that concerns not just yourself but everyone.”
- A Personal Matter, Kenzaburo Oe, 1964
“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels but have not love, I have become a sounding brass or clanging cymbal…When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now I see through a glass darkly but then face to face.”
- 1 Corinthians 13, Paul 54 AD at Ephesus
**
Kenzaburo Oe, 1994 Nobel Prize laureate, wrote this novel in 1964 about his autistic son Hikari born a year before. He went on to write four more novels influenced by experiences at various stages of Hikari’s life. Born in 1935, Oe was ten years old at the time of the Japanese surrender. His other writings were critical of the American occupation, nuclear weapons and energy. He was outspoken proponent of the New Left in Japan. Oe struggled to accept Hikari’s condition but resisted the doctors urging to let him die. He lived with his parents until middle age, and became a successful music composer during 1994.
Bird is a twenty seven year old teacher who didn’t complete his master’s degree and went on a two year drinking binge. He is married and expecting his first child but is worried it will end his dream of going to Africa. The baby is born with a herniated brain and expected to die within days. The night of the birth he’s beaten by a teenage gang and begins to drink again. He visits an old friend whose husband had committed suicide while his wife recovers in the hospital. On her wall is a reproduction of William Blake’s ‘Death of the Firstborn’. Himiko imagines alternate worlds where deaths haven’t occurred and the deceased live on.
Bird wakes nauseated by the whiskey he drank, struggling towards his morning class, hung over and vomiting. After a horrific scene at the school he goes to the hospital where his baby is still alive in the ICU with a bandaged head, which he likens to the French poet Apollinaire wounded in WWI. He returns to Himiko and begins a sexual relationship. His wife in the maternity ward says she may divorce him, his job is at risk and his dreams of Africa are disappearing. He marks time before his son dies, collaborating with the doctor to underfeed him. Friends try to have him consider options as he reaches the limits of his endurance.
There are many moral questions posed by this book. Bird becomes obsessed with getting rid of the unwanted baby. Himiko becomes a willing accomplice with his wish for freedom, release from fatherly duties and travel to Africa. His wife and mentally disabled child are temporarily cast aside in his will to exist unfettered by obligations. Bird is consumed with shame and guilt but moves emptily along in his selfish desires, unlike Oe who accepted the challenges of parenthood in spite of the circumstances and consequences, while in doubt and despair. Bird ultimately realizes he has been running away from his problems.
Oe had gained popularity as young writer while in Tokyo University in the late 50’s. After his child’s illness he began his series of I-novels, a form of fictionalized autobiography that was popular after the war. He was an activist against the US Security Treaty and met with Mao Zedong in 1960, becoming friends with Noam Chomsky after writing articles on pacifism and anti-nuclear issues. French literature and existentialism were two major influences and he visited with Jean-Paul Sartre in France. This novel is brilliantly written but left me with a disturbing malaise, as if awakening from a nightmare, the human condition.
“Like Apollinaire, my son was wounded on a dark and lonely battlefield that I have never seen, and he has arrived with his head in bandages. I’ll have to bury him like a soldier who died at war. Bird continued to cry.”
“Sex for Bird and Himiko would be linked to the dying baby, linked to all of mankind's miseries, to the wretchedness so loathsome that people unafflicted pretended not to see it, an attitude they called humanism.”
“Kafka, you know, wrote in a letter to his father, the only thing a parent can do for a child is to welcome it when it arrives. And are you rejecting your baby instead? Can we excuse the egotism that rejects another life, because a man is a father?"
“You're right about this being limited to me, it's entirely a personal matter. But with some personal experiences that lead you into a cave all by yourself, you must eventually come to a side tunnel or something that opens on a truth that concerns not just yourself but everyone.”
- A Personal Matter, Kenzaburo Oe, 1964
“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels but have not love, I have become a sounding brass or clanging cymbal…When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now I see through a glass darkly but then face to face.”
- 1 Corinthians 13, Paul 54 AD at Ephesus
**
Kenzaburo Oe, 1994 Nobel Prize laureate, wrote this novel in 1964 about his autistic son Hikari born a year before. He went on to write four more novels influenced by experiences at various stages of Hikari’s life. Born in 1935, Oe was ten years old at the time of the Japanese surrender. His other writings were critical of the American occupation, nuclear weapons and energy. He was outspoken proponent of the New Left in Japan. Oe struggled to accept Hikari’s condition but resisted the doctors urging to let him die. He lived with his parents until middle age, and became a successful music composer during 1994.
Bird is a twenty seven year old teacher who didn’t complete his master’s degree and went on a two year drinking binge. He is married and expecting his first child but is worried it will end his dream of going to Africa. The baby is born with a herniated brain and expected to die within days. The night of the birth he’s beaten by a teenage gang and begins to drink again. He visits an old friend whose husband had committed suicide while his wife recovers in the hospital. On her wall is a reproduction of William Blake’s ‘Death of the Firstborn’. Himiko imagines alternate worlds where deaths haven’t occurred and the deceased live on.
Bird wakes nauseated by the whiskey he drank, struggling towards his morning class, hung over and vomiting. After a horrific scene at the school he goes to the hospital where his baby is still alive in the ICU with a bandaged head, which he likens to the French poet Apollinaire wounded in WWI. He returns to Himiko and begins a sexual relationship. His wife in the maternity ward says she may divorce him, his job is at risk and his dreams of Africa are disappearing. He marks time before his son dies, collaborating with the doctor to underfeed him. Friends try to have him consider options as he reaches the limits of his endurance.
There are many moral questions posed by this book. Bird becomes obsessed with getting rid of the unwanted baby. Himiko becomes a willing accomplice with his wish for freedom, release from fatherly duties and travel to Africa. His wife and mentally disabled child are temporarily cast aside in his will to exist unfettered by obligations. Bird is consumed with shame and guilt but moves emptily along in his selfish desires, unlike Oe who accepted the challenges of parenthood in spite of the circumstances and consequences, while in doubt and despair. Bird ultimately realizes he has been running away from his problems.
Oe had gained popularity as young writer while in Tokyo University in the late 50’s. After his child’s illness he began his series of I-novels, a form of fictionalized autobiography that was popular after the war. He was an activist against the US Security Treaty and met with Mao Zedong in 1960, becoming friends with Noam Chomsky after writing articles on pacifism and anti-nuclear issues. French literature and existentialism were two major influences and he visited with Jean-Paul Sartre in France. This novel is brilliantly written but left me with a disturbing malaise, as if awakening from a nightmare, the human condition.
April 29, 2023
What speaks for this book, besides the gorgeous cover, is the deep dive the author grants us into the shameful parts of our psyche. To get there however we wade through layers upon layers of self pity and egocentric behavior of the main character
Kafka, you know, wrote in a letter to his father, the only thing a parent can do for a child is to welcome it when it arrives
is a hard read, not just because of the topic but more due to the nature of the main character, who has few if any redeeming qualities. A slender man of 27 seeks out old friends, arcades and nightlife filled with whores and transvestites after his wife gave birth to an "abnormal" child. The book feels old fashioned, cross dressers are called faggots, Africa is seen as a country, a man is not supposed to be at the giving birth with his wife, nor tell her the outcomes.
There are teenage gangs, fear of alchohol addiction resurfacing and dead-end jobs that are only obtained through personal connections.
his writing is filled with metaphors, but the beauty of his prose do not conceal that his main character is a deeply flawed man, who thinks with fondness of basically raping and taking the virginity of a "friend" he crashes with. He even muses he made her frigid, and en passant thinks of some necrophilia. In the end anal sex with this former mistress wakes him up from his stupor and forces him to take a bit more charge of his life.
His redemption and envelopment in grown up life when he does takes ownership at the end of the book feels like someone emerging from a long fever dream, and getting to this point of catharsis through a road filled with personal demons is too steep a price for me in terms of payoff.
Dutch quotes and English musings:
In deze tijd waarin wij leven is het moeilijk met zekerheid te zeggen dat te hebben geleefd beter is dan nooit geboren te zijn.
De werelden die ons bevatten vermenigvuldigen zich
Vermoord haar en neuk haar lijk!
Oké this is some dark ass shit
Heb ik je frigide gemaakt - wat is dit voor vrouwonvriendelijk boek
Never seen a teacher vomit in front of the class
I am the trouble
Freedom is never very safe
True journey is return
Anale seks met een minnares als troost en niets over de conditie van de baby aan je vrouw vertellen
Misschien omdat je niet werkelijk aan mij of de baby dacht. Vogel, denk je ooit serieus om iemand anders dan jezelf?
Ik heb er nooit iets over gezegd, maar ik heb altijd geweten dat je niet echt een rustig, fatsoenlijk leven wilt leiden met je vrouw en kind.
Ik probeerde te besluiten of ik het aan jou kon overlaten voor de baby te zorgen en toen bedacht ik dat ik je eigenlijk niet erg goed kende.
Het zijn de mensen die het gevoel hebben gekregen dat zij geen rechten meer hebben in de werkelijke wereld die zelfmoord plegen.
Ik weet niet waarom, ik voelde echt helemaal niets.
In mijn ervaring bestaat er geen volslagen nutteloos lijden.
Kinderen die op de wereld zijn gekomen om te sterven
Ik hol niet langer op iedere uitgang af
Wanneer onze Vogel eenmaal aan zichzelf begint te denken hoort hij je toch niet, hoe hard je ook huilt.
Kafka, you know, wrote in a letter to his father, the only thing a parent can do for a child is to welcome it when it arrives
is a hard read, not just because of the topic but more due to the nature of the main character, who has few if any redeeming qualities. A slender man of 27 seeks out old friends, arcades and nightlife filled with whores and transvestites after his wife gave birth to an "abnormal" child. The book feels old fashioned, cross dressers are called faggots, Africa is seen as a country, a man is not supposed to be at the giving birth with his wife, nor tell her the outcomes.
There are teenage gangs, fear of alchohol addiction resurfacing and dead-end jobs that are only obtained through personal connections.
his writing is filled with metaphors, but the beauty of his prose do not conceal that his main character is a deeply flawed man, who thinks with fondness of basically raping and taking the virginity of a "friend" he crashes with. He even muses he made her frigid, and en passant thinks of some necrophilia. In the end anal sex with this former mistress wakes him up from his stupor and forces him to take a bit more charge of his life.
His redemption and envelopment in grown up life when he does takes ownership at the end of the book feels like someone emerging from a long fever dream, and getting to this point of catharsis through a road filled with personal demons is too steep a price for me in terms of payoff.
Dutch quotes and English musings:
In deze tijd waarin wij leven is het moeilijk met zekerheid te zeggen dat te hebben geleefd beter is dan nooit geboren te zijn.
De werelden die ons bevatten vermenigvuldigen zich
Vermoord haar en neuk haar lijk!
Oké this is some dark ass shit
Heb ik je frigide gemaakt - wat is dit voor vrouwonvriendelijk boek
Never seen a teacher vomit in front of the class
I am the trouble
Freedom is never very safe
True journey is return
Anale seks met een minnares als troost en niets over de conditie van de baby aan je vrouw vertellen
Misschien omdat je niet werkelijk aan mij of de baby dacht. Vogel, denk je ooit serieus om iemand anders dan jezelf?
Ik heb er nooit iets over gezegd, maar ik heb altijd geweten dat je niet echt een rustig, fatsoenlijk leven wilt leiden met je vrouw en kind.
Ik probeerde te besluiten of ik het aan jou kon overlaten voor de baby te zorgen en toen bedacht ik dat ik je eigenlijk niet erg goed kende.
Het zijn de mensen die het gevoel hebben gekregen dat zij geen rechten meer hebben in de werkelijke wereld die zelfmoord plegen.
Ik weet niet waarom, ik voelde echt helemaal niets.
In mijn ervaring bestaat er geen volslagen nutteloos lijden.
Kinderen die op de wereld zijn gekomen om te sterven
Ik hol niet langer op iedere uitgang af
Wanneer onze Vogel eenmaal aan zichzelf begint te denken hoort hij je toch niet, hoe hard je ook huilt.
March 14, 2015
You and I exist in alternate different forms in countless other universes...
At each of those moments you survived in one universe and left your own corpse behind in another.
- Kenzaburo Oe: A Personal Matter
Bird, the protagonist, is confronted by a grave problem, a problem that threatens his future freedom in life - a deformed baby. He is devastated by a sense of shame since he has just fathered a monster baby and feels trapped with unforeseen, unwanted responsibilities. In the face of his grotesque tragedy, envisioning his future destroyed, his continuity broken, and freedom denied, Bird goes through a pattern of decline that reveals all the vileness and ugliness of a man. He plummets into a series of debauched actions, self-loathing and self-destruction. He sees a monster reflected in himself as repulsive as his neo-creation.
Through the course of the narrative, Oe moves his personal matter subtly with political, social and existential thoughts concerning man's being, his fear, dread, suffering, alienation, anguish and death. There is the suggestion that the deformity is possibly caused by radioactive contamination.
In this age of ours it's hard to say with certainty that having lived was better than not having been born in the first place.
Bird himself finds his own nature distorted and poisonous, blaming himself personally for bringing a severely deformed child into a world where there would be no acceptance of him nor an acceptable place for him.
Under what category of the Dead could you subpoena, prosecute, and sentence a baby with only vegetable functions who died no sooner than he was born?
Oe explores moral and philosophical themes as Bird has to make a choice to take responsibility or run away, to face or look away from the atrocity; to make the decision that would result in his 'vegetable' baby dying with dignity, or being killed in shame - a decision that eats away insidiously at his sanity.
's themes of deception and escape, authentic life and self-identity, raises the novel to a more universal concept. Oe explores how the individual in confronting life's tragedies, in choosing his ideals and finding his "meaning," overcomes humiliation and shame, gains self-definition, finds his destiny: to eventually "get on with life;" and in so doing, finds personal dignity and a sense of responsibility to his fellow man.
And to Bird, from another parent of a disabled child: I hear you, I feel you. The only direction you need to take would come from the one who truly, personally matters -
I chose you, dear father, to hold my hand,
Let's walk the same road.
Be brave...follow me,
I'll show you who you can be.
***
Oe's childhood years occurred during wartime, an important fact that shaped his writing.
His first son, Hiraki, was born in 1963 with brain hernia; his fate rested solely on Oe's decisions. It forced him to reflect on the meaning in his stories which up to that point, in his mind, amounted to "nothing." The central theme of his writing since then has been the way his family has managed to live with, and care for a handicapped child.
While in Hiroshima reporting on an anti-nuclear rally, an event that occurred soon after Hiraki's birth, Oe met survivors of Hiroshima's bombing, and had conversations with Dr. Shigeto, himself a survivor, who had devoted his career to caring for victims of the A-bomb atrocity. Oe found inspiration in confronting his own heartbreaking tragedy through the dignity and courage of the survivors, and from Dr. Shigeto's dedication to "a hopeless cause." The Hiroshima visit was the transforming experience that forever changed his view of what it means to be human.
It ultimately led to, in his own words, a rebirth of his writing style. This renewed outlook swayed him to 'rescue' his son.
Living with a disabled family member, we come to know despair, but "by actually giving it expression we can be healed and know the joy of recovering." - Kenzaburo Oe
Hiraki Oe has composed and recorded 2 distinctive works to date:
Oh, yeah- highly recommend.
Read April 2014
At each of those moments you survived in one universe and left your own corpse behind in another.
- Kenzaburo Oe: A Personal Matter
Bird, the protagonist, is confronted by a grave problem, a problem that threatens his future freedom in life - a deformed baby. He is devastated by a sense of shame since he has just fathered a monster baby and feels trapped with unforeseen, unwanted responsibilities. In the face of his grotesque tragedy, envisioning his future destroyed, his continuity broken, and freedom denied, Bird goes through a pattern of decline that reveals all the vileness and ugliness of a man. He plummets into a series of debauched actions, self-loathing and self-destruction. He sees a monster reflected in himself as repulsive as his neo-creation.
Through the course of the narrative, Oe moves his personal matter subtly with political, social and existential thoughts concerning man's being, his fear, dread, suffering, alienation, anguish and death. There is the suggestion that the deformity is possibly caused by radioactive contamination.
In this age of ours it's hard to say with certainty that having lived was better than not having been born in the first place.
Bird himself finds his own nature distorted and poisonous, blaming himself personally for bringing a severely deformed child into a world where there would be no acceptance of him nor an acceptable place for him.
Under what category of the Dead could you subpoena, prosecute, and sentence a baby with only vegetable functions who died no sooner than he was born?
Oe explores moral and philosophical themes as Bird has to make a choice to take responsibility or run away, to face or look away from the atrocity; to make the decision that would result in his 'vegetable' baby dying with dignity, or being killed in shame - a decision that eats away insidiously at his sanity.
's themes of deception and escape, authentic life and self-identity, raises the novel to a more universal concept. Oe explores how the individual in confronting life's tragedies, in choosing his ideals and finding his "meaning," overcomes humiliation and shame, gains self-definition, finds his destiny: to eventually "get on with life;" and in so doing, finds personal dignity and a sense of responsibility to his fellow man.
And to Bird, from another parent of a disabled child: I hear you, I feel you. The only direction you need to take would come from the one who truly, personally matters -
I chose you, dear father, to hold my hand,
Let's walk the same road.
Be brave...follow me,
I'll show you who you can be.
***
Oe's childhood years occurred during wartime, an important fact that shaped his writing.
His first son, Hiraki, was born in 1963 with brain hernia; his fate rested solely on Oe's decisions. It forced him to reflect on the meaning in his stories which up to that point, in his mind, amounted to "nothing." The central theme of his writing since then has been the way his family has managed to live with, and care for a handicapped child.
While in Hiroshima reporting on an anti-nuclear rally, an event that occurred soon after Hiraki's birth, Oe met survivors of Hiroshima's bombing, and had conversations with Dr. Shigeto, himself a survivor, who had devoted his career to caring for victims of the A-bomb atrocity. Oe found inspiration in confronting his own heartbreaking tragedy through the dignity and courage of the survivors, and from Dr. Shigeto's dedication to "a hopeless cause." The Hiroshima visit was the transforming experience that forever changed his view of what it means to be human.
It ultimately led to, in his own words, a rebirth of his writing style. This renewed outlook swayed him to 'rescue' his son.
Living with a disabled family member, we come to know despair, but "by actually giving it expression we can be healed and know the joy of recovering." - Kenzaburo Oe
Hiraki Oe has composed and recorded 2 distinctive works to date:
Oh, yeah- highly recommend.
Read April 2014
March 18, 2025
Pocas veces he leído un relato tan escabroso, intenso, amargo... pero sobre todo bien escrito. Una escritura que te impulsa a seguir leyendo hasta el final. Porque la literatura no es lo que se dice, sino cómo se dice y hasta los temas más espinosos se pueden convertir en arte. Hay que decir que Kenzaburo Oé no es cualquiera; se le concedió el Premio Nobel en 1994 y es uno de los autores japoneses contemporáneos más importantes.
Se le puede encuadrar en la corriente del existencialismo francés de los a?os 50 y su narrativa está marcada por las consecuencias de la guerra en Japón, así como por su devenir personal. En concreto, el nacimiento de su hijo discapacitado en 1963 y todas sus angustias como padre quedan reflejadas en esta obra con toda la crudeza posible.
El protagonista es Bird, un joven que no acaba de sentirse a gusto en su matrimonio ni en su entorno profesional y sue?a con viajar a ?frica. El próximo nacimiento de su hijo acentúa su sentimiento de opresión:
(Desde que me casé he estado en la jaula, pero hasta ahora siempre me pareció que la puerta permanecía abierta; el bebé a punto de llegar bien podría cerrarla definitivamente.)
Cuando el ni?o nace con un problema médico grave que le da un aspecto monstruoso, Bird se sumerge en una pesadilla kafkiana en la que todos sus demonios personales se desatan:
Se dio cuenta de que acababa de dar el primer paso hacia el precipicio de la infamia. Y todo indicaba que correría hacia allí a toda velocidad: su infamia crecería como una bola de nieve, mientras él la contemplaba.
No en vano, uno de los personajes menciona a Kafka cuando le echa en cara su reacción ante la enfermedad de su hijo:
Kafka, ya sabe, le escribió a su padre que lo único que puede hacer un padre con su hijo es acogerlo con satisfacción cuando llega. Usted, en cambio, parece rechazarlo.
Este influjo, mezclado con el de existencialistas franceses como Sartre y Camus y con el telón de fondo de la sociedad japonesa, hace de esta novela un combinado muy fuerte, realista, lleno de sinceridad y al mismo tiempo surreal en la manera en que trata los personajes, en especial los el entorno hospitalario, como salidos de una pesadilla:
El doctor le examinó con ojos de tortuga. También la barbilla y la garganta colgante y fláccida recordaban a una tortuga..., una tortuga brutal y altanera. Sin embargo, en sus ojos blancuzcos e inexpresivos se advertía un atisbo de sencillez y bondad.
En conjunto es una novela breve pero notable, muy dura y que deja huella. Quiero leer alguna otra obra de este autor.
Se le puede encuadrar en la corriente del existencialismo francés de los a?os 50 y su narrativa está marcada por las consecuencias de la guerra en Japón, así como por su devenir personal. En concreto, el nacimiento de su hijo discapacitado en 1963 y todas sus angustias como padre quedan reflejadas en esta obra con toda la crudeza posible.
El protagonista es Bird, un joven que no acaba de sentirse a gusto en su matrimonio ni en su entorno profesional y sue?a con viajar a ?frica. El próximo nacimiento de su hijo acentúa su sentimiento de opresión:
(Desde que me casé he estado en la jaula, pero hasta ahora siempre me pareció que la puerta permanecía abierta; el bebé a punto de llegar bien podría cerrarla definitivamente.)
Cuando el ni?o nace con un problema médico grave que le da un aspecto monstruoso, Bird se sumerge en una pesadilla kafkiana en la que todos sus demonios personales se desatan:
Se dio cuenta de que acababa de dar el primer paso hacia el precipicio de la infamia. Y todo indicaba que correría hacia allí a toda velocidad: su infamia crecería como una bola de nieve, mientras él la contemplaba.
No en vano, uno de los personajes menciona a Kafka cuando le echa en cara su reacción ante la enfermedad de su hijo:
Kafka, ya sabe, le escribió a su padre que lo único que puede hacer un padre con su hijo es acogerlo con satisfacción cuando llega. Usted, en cambio, parece rechazarlo.
Este influjo, mezclado con el de existencialistas franceses como Sartre y Camus y con el telón de fondo de la sociedad japonesa, hace de esta novela un combinado muy fuerte, realista, lleno de sinceridad y al mismo tiempo surreal en la manera en que trata los personajes, en especial los el entorno hospitalario, como salidos de una pesadilla:
El doctor le examinó con ojos de tortuga. También la barbilla y la garganta colgante y fláccida recordaban a una tortuga..., una tortuga brutal y altanera. Sin embargo, en sus ojos blancuzcos e inexpresivos se advertía un atisbo de sencillez y bondad.
En conjunto es una novela breve pero notable, muy dura y que deja huella. Quiero leer alguna otra obra de este autor.
August 29, 2017
No se qué puntuación darle... Creo que nunca, o muy pocas veces, un libro me había hecho sentir emociones tan diferentes y tan opuestas. Por un lado me parece brillante, pero por otro terrible y horrible. Me ha hecho sufrir muchísimo. A la vez me ha parecido un libro honesto... He odiado tanto al protagonista... por egoísta, por tonto, por mala persona... pero a la vez, no sería tan extra?o encontrarse en su situación... o sí??? He sufrido tanto por ese bebé... por la madre... no se... este libro me ha dejado muy tocada. Y creo que sí, que por todo ello y aunque es un libro que no querría releer, creo que tampoco me apetece leer nada más del autor, al menos de momento... creo, a pesar de todo, que se merece 5 estrellas. Pero el hecho de no haberlo disfrutado... no puedo ponerle las 5. Le voy a dar 4... es que no sé... no puedo darle 5... quizá las merece... no se.
December 9, 2018
This book from 1964 challenges us with whether we can empathize with its lead character, Bird, in the face of disgust over his morality. At the hospital where his wife has borne him a son, he learns that the baby has a brain aneurism and if it survives is likely to be severely handicapped. He conspires with his mother-in-law to keep its condition a secret while he follows its transfer to specialist care at a larger hospital elsewhere. He drinks to excess during the waiting period, gets fired from his job as a literature teacher at a “cram-school”, and escapes into sex with an old girlfriend. Eventually he comes to a choice point where he has to decide on a risky operation leading to some kind of compromised life or on taking a more active role in the demise of this seemingly monstrous baby.
Instead of submerging us in the pure pathos of its suffering characters, we get a brilliant and black satiric comedy of dancing, skating life on a stage of thin ice. Such as here in Bird’s absurd mental rejoinder to the idiot obstetrician’s heartless dismissal of any possible suffering by the baby:
”It’s like … a kind of vegetable. In your opinion, does a vegetable suffer?”
Does a vegetable suffer, in my opinion? Bird wondered silently. Have I ever considered that a cabbage being munched by a goat was in pain?
Here we get a flavor of the bankruptcy of his beloved literature to help Bird wallow through this emotional minefield:
My son has bandages on his head and so did Appolinaire when he was wounded on the field of battle. On a dark and lonely battlefield I have never seen, my son was wounded like Appolinaire and now he is screaming soundlessly …
…I’ll have to bury him like a soldier who died at war.
Bird continued to cry.
In between his twinges of lunatic thought, we get some moving poetic windows on his misery:
A night softness had lingered in the hospital, and now the morning light, reflecting off the wet pavement and off the leafy trees, stabbed like icicles at Bird’s pampered eyes. Laboring into this light on his bike was like being poised on the edge of a diving board; Bird felt severed from the certainty of the ground, isolated. And he was numb as stone, a weak insect on a scorpion’s sting.
The whole book is a symphony on shame and its avoidance. Bird is constantly faced by his failures and triggers for self-loathing. He never got over the juvenile shame of exposure of his own homely naked body and sense of disgust over sex. For example, here, while putting on clean underwear at home after a night at hospital, he is ashamed at the sight of own genitals:
Peril-ridden and fragile, the imperfect human body, what a shameful thing it was! Trembling, Bird fled the apartment with his eyes on the floor, fled down the stairs, fled through the hall, straddled his bike and fled everything behind him. He would have liked to flee his own body. Speeding away on a bike, he felt he was escaping himself more effectively than he could on foot, if only a little.
His old girlfriend tries her best to help him, sharing her optimism in alternate universes where maybe her husband’s suicide did not happen and Bird baby is healthy. Our anti-hero surprises us with resistance to such an easy mental out:
.. you’ve conceived of this whole philosophical swindle in order to rob death of its finality.
Our stake in Bird’s choices seems connected to our collective disgust over the human race after World War 2 and follow-up with the Cold War chasm of fear about nuclear annihilation.
This connection is mostly up to the reader as we garner little visions on the scope of life of a defeated nation in the painful process of recovery after the war. For example, the loss of old values and honor is hinted at in the fact of Bird’s memory of his father’s suicide when he was six as involving a World War 1 pistol. Even more compelling is Bird’s mental response to hearing a radio report of Hiroshima victims protesting Soviet nuclear testing:
In a world shared by all those others, time was passing, mankind’s one and only time, and a destiny apprehended the world over as one and the same destiny was taking its evil shape. Bird, on the other hand, was answerable only to the baby in the basket on his lap, to the monster who governed his personal destiny.
By the end I came to care for Bird and not judge him too much. Sometimes I don’t see why some authors are worthy of a Nobel Prize, but this sampling of Oe dispels any doubt about him for a choice.
Instead of submerging us in the pure pathos of its suffering characters, we get a brilliant and black satiric comedy of dancing, skating life on a stage of thin ice. Such as here in Bird’s absurd mental rejoinder to the idiot obstetrician’s heartless dismissal of any possible suffering by the baby:
”It’s like … a kind of vegetable. In your opinion, does a vegetable suffer?”
Does a vegetable suffer, in my opinion? Bird wondered silently. Have I ever considered that a cabbage being munched by a goat was in pain?
Here we get a flavor of the bankruptcy of his beloved literature to help Bird wallow through this emotional minefield:
My son has bandages on his head and so did Appolinaire when he was wounded on the field of battle. On a dark and lonely battlefield I have never seen, my son was wounded like Appolinaire and now he is screaming soundlessly …
…I’ll have to bury him like a soldier who died at war.
Bird continued to cry.
In between his twinges of lunatic thought, we get some moving poetic windows on his misery:
A night softness had lingered in the hospital, and now the morning light, reflecting off the wet pavement and off the leafy trees, stabbed like icicles at Bird’s pampered eyes. Laboring into this light on his bike was like being poised on the edge of a diving board; Bird felt severed from the certainty of the ground, isolated. And he was numb as stone, a weak insect on a scorpion’s sting.
The whole book is a symphony on shame and its avoidance. Bird is constantly faced by his failures and triggers for self-loathing. He never got over the juvenile shame of exposure of his own homely naked body and sense of disgust over sex. For example, here, while putting on clean underwear at home after a night at hospital, he is ashamed at the sight of own genitals:
Peril-ridden and fragile, the imperfect human body, what a shameful thing it was! Trembling, Bird fled the apartment with his eyes on the floor, fled down the stairs, fled through the hall, straddled his bike and fled everything behind him. He would have liked to flee his own body. Speeding away on a bike, he felt he was escaping himself more effectively than he could on foot, if only a little.
His old girlfriend tries her best to help him, sharing her optimism in alternate universes where maybe her husband’s suicide did not happen and Bird baby is healthy. Our anti-hero surprises us with resistance to such an easy mental out:
.. you’ve conceived of this whole philosophical swindle in order to rob death of its finality.
Our stake in Bird’s choices seems connected to our collective disgust over the human race after World War 2 and follow-up with the Cold War chasm of fear about nuclear annihilation.
This connection is mostly up to the reader as we garner little visions on the scope of life of a defeated nation in the painful process of recovery after the war. For example, the loss of old values and honor is hinted at in the fact of Bird’s memory of his father’s suicide when he was six as involving a World War 1 pistol. Even more compelling is Bird’s mental response to hearing a radio report of Hiroshima victims protesting Soviet nuclear testing:
In a world shared by all those others, time was passing, mankind’s one and only time, and a destiny apprehended the world over as one and the same destiny was taking its evil shape. Bird, on the other hand, was answerable only to the baby in the basket on his lap, to the monster who governed his personal destiny.
By the end I came to care for Bird and not judge him too much. Sometimes I don’t see why some authors are worthy of a Nobel Prize, but this sampling of Oe dispels any doubt about him for a choice.
April 30, 2020
I followed up on Oe once I finished his book. I had no prior knowledge of this Japanese writer who won the Nobel Prize in the 1960’s. According to a couple of reports read, this was a memoir of sorts although it is categorized as fiction.
Bird, the protagonist, has a situation that worries most young parents. His pregnant wife is introduced to us shortly before she gives birth. The baby enters this world with potential brain damage, unbeknownst to his wife, the mother. Only Bird is informed of this; his partner is currently not conscious, the baby swept from the room, as is usually the case directly after birth.
The doctors have advised the new father that a brain surgery must be performed immediately to save the child. The surgeon makes no guarantees as to the outcome, although there is a very good chance that the child, if he survives an operation, will be no more intelligible than cod in miso sauce.
Oe, the author, now eighty-three years old, has a brain damaged son. It is apparent that this condition has consumed his thoughts for an entire life. And what does one sometimes do with personal tragedy, we write about it. And then we quickly down two shots of Jose Cuervo.
This story, in my estimation, is by a man who has been affected by the random hand of providence and has yet to manifest within, ‘acceptance.’ Ach, who among us is not fragile? Who among us has not felt, even once, that we were handed a uniquely bad card?
Bird, however, is in ‘fight or flight’ mode. Any decision he makes is fraught with consequences, most of them negative. It has happened to many of us who are weighed down by the ignominy we feel when the door to our lives is opened for all to see. We should not be, but many times we are. These type of circumstances create a constant light on a life that we preferred to keep private. We cannot escape the attention; we would choose obscurity. It reminds me of the homeless, who live lives in the open, for all to see and evaluate. After a period, they do not seem to care. Which is probably a healthy response.
Men are inculcated to hide emotionally. Japanese men are exponentially more handicapped in this department. This becomes a wonderful literary device to create tension throughout the story. Oe is not a rookie.
That is all I am going to say.
I would like you to enjoy reading this and to draw your own conclusions.
Bird, the protagonist, has a situation that worries most young parents. His pregnant wife is introduced to us shortly before she gives birth. The baby enters this world with potential brain damage, unbeknownst to his wife, the mother. Only Bird is informed of this; his partner is currently not conscious, the baby swept from the room, as is usually the case directly after birth.
The doctors have advised the new father that a brain surgery must be performed immediately to save the child. The surgeon makes no guarantees as to the outcome, although there is a very good chance that the child, if he survives an operation, will be no more intelligible than cod in miso sauce.
Oe, the author, now eighty-three years old, has a brain damaged son. It is apparent that this condition has consumed his thoughts for an entire life. And what does one sometimes do with personal tragedy, we write about it. And then we quickly down two shots of Jose Cuervo.
This story, in my estimation, is by a man who has been affected by the random hand of providence and has yet to manifest within, ‘acceptance.’ Ach, who among us is not fragile? Who among us has not felt, even once, that we were handed a uniquely bad card?
Bird, however, is in ‘fight or flight’ mode. Any decision he makes is fraught with consequences, most of them negative. It has happened to many of us who are weighed down by the ignominy we feel when the door to our lives is opened for all to see. We should not be, but many times we are. These type of circumstances create a constant light on a life that we preferred to keep private. We cannot escape the attention; we would choose obscurity. It reminds me of the homeless, who live lives in the open, for all to see and evaluate. After a period, they do not seem to care. Which is probably a healthy response.
Men are inculcated to hide emotionally. Japanese men are exponentially more handicapped in this department. This becomes a wonderful literary device to create tension throughout the story. Oe is not a rookie.
That is all I am going to say.
I would like you to enjoy reading this and to draw your own conclusions.
October 28, 2020
?nan?lmaz bir ak?l dalgalanmas?, 3-4 günde hayat?n kamikaze misali sallant?s?.
Y?llard?r en derin yaram; kan ba?? sevmeye yeter mi ? Bitkisel hayat ya?amaya neredeyse mahkum bir bebek ve ne olursa olsun onu kabul etmek zorunda kalmas? gereken aile. Sevgi ger?ekten bu mu ? Yani ya?ad???n? bile anlayamayacak bir bebe?i ya?atmak ??renilmi? anne-babal?k bence. Hayat?n?z? hem kendinize hem de o bebe?e ziyan etmi? olmuyor musunuz ? Herkes de haz?r, a?z? a??k ele?tiri i?in bekliyor. Kendi ba??na gelmeyince herkes yarg?? ma?allah. Kitab?n romantik sonunu be?enmedim. ‘B?yle olmal?’ diye dü?ünülüp bitirilmi? gibime geldi. Olan da üniversite arkada??na oldu, yaz?k. Gitti güzelim Afrika.?
Y?llard?r en derin yaram; kan ba?? sevmeye yeter mi ? Bitkisel hayat ya?amaya neredeyse mahkum bir bebek ve ne olursa olsun onu kabul etmek zorunda kalmas? gereken aile. Sevgi ger?ekten bu mu ? Yani ya?ad???n? bile anlayamayacak bir bebe?i ya?atmak ??renilmi? anne-babal?k bence. Hayat?n?z? hem kendinize hem de o bebe?e ziyan etmi? olmuyor musunuz ? Herkes de haz?r, a?z? a??k ele?tiri i?in bekliyor. Kendi ba??na gelmeyince herkes yarg?? ma?allah. Kitab?n romantik sonunu be?enmedim. ‘B?yle olmal?’ diye dü?ünülüp bitirilmi? gibime geldi. Olan da üniversite arkada??na oldu, yaz?k. Gitti güzelim Afrika.?
October 31, 2023
A young man, nicknamed Bird, is drifting in his twenties after having made some poor choices. He’s immature and self-centered, a poor husband and weak worker with no good prospects. His baby is born and presents with a severe deformity. How he reacts, withdraws, hides, considers his options, and decides, is the journey we take with him.
Many scenes in the book are disgusting, frustrating and irksome. But they are well drawn and short and significant to show us Bird’s character. Alienation from himself is one side of his problem, but he also stands apart from almost everyone who should be close to him. We never know his wife’s name, his in-laws, boss or colleagues. But we do know the college classmate he raped their first year in school, and the friend he abandoned one night in Tokyo many years before, and for whom he felt no guilt but for whom his wife did. Oe sketches out sparingly yet fully and masterfully with such ease how Bird’s life has been off track.
Quickly, beautifully, the end. I just loved it. Nobel Prize winner.
Many scenes in the book are disgusting, frustrating and irksome. But they are well drawn and short and significant to show us Bird’s character. Alienation from himself is one side of his problem, but he also stands apart from almost everyone who should be close to him. We never know his wife’s name, his in-laws, boss or colleagues. But we do know the college classmate he raped their first year in school, and the friend he abandoned one night in Tokyo many years before, and for whom he felt no guilt but for whom his wife did. Oe sketches out sparingly yet fully and masterfully with such ease how Bird’s life has been off track.
Quickly, beautifully, the end. I just loved it. Nobel Prize winner.
October 22, 2017
Η αν?γνωση αυτο? εδ? του βιβλ?ου εκμηδεν?ζει την αν?γνωση κ?θε ?λλου βιβλ?ου το τελευτα?ο ?το?. Και μακ?ρι κ?ποια που ?σω? να μην ξεπ?ρασα σε ?να λανθ?νον επ?πεδο, να ?ταν εδ? και να ?βλεπε τον κατ?φορο μ?σα μου που χρει?στηκε ν’ αντιστρ?ψω, διαβ?ζοντα? το.
?ταν γρ?φω μια κριτικ? δεν ?χω σκοπ? να κορο?δ?ψω καν?ναν, παρ? μ?νο να διακοινων?σω μια υπ?θεση στην οπο?α πιστε?ω με το μυαλ? και την καρδι? μου. Αυτ? σκοπε?ω να κ?νω και τ?ρα. Αδιαφορ? για την εντ?πωση που αυτ? θα αφ?σει, ?σο και για οποιαδ?ποτε ?ννοια μικρομ?ριμνα? εντυπωσιασμο?.
ΠΡΟΣΩΠΙΚΗ ΥΠΟΘΕΣΗ:
Ε?ναι προσωπικ? υπ?θεση η πατρ?τητα. Ε?ναι προσωπικ? υπ?θεση η υπευθυν?τητα και η συν?πεια με την οπο?α πρ?πει επιτ?λου? να αποφασ?σει? αν θ?λει? να ε?σαι παντρεμ?νο?, αν θ?λει? να ?χει? σχ?σει? με τη γυνα?κα σου σαν ?να σ?στημα, ? διαμ?σου ?λλων που θα δικαιολογο?ν την ?δια σου την ?παρξη. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση ε?ναι ακ?μη και να διανοηθε?? να πα? με μ?α τρανσ?ξουαλ επειδ? αυτ? που αποζητ?? ε?ναι τη συζ?τηση χωρ?? ?ργο δ?ναμη?, παρ? μ?νο για την καταν?ηση που θα ?χει ο ?λλο?, ω? ?να? γκουρο? στι? δ?σκολε? και περ?πλοκε? αποφ?σει? τη? ζω??, ?στε εσ? απλ?? να περιστοιχ?ζεσαι απ’ ανθρ?που? που επειδ? σε περιστοιχ?ζουν και περιτοιχ?ζουν θα αποδεικν?ουν πω? υπ?ρχει? για κ?ποιο λ?γο, που σε ‘σενα ?μω? ε?ναι ?γνωστο? ακ?μα. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση ε?ναι να καταλ?βει? πω? ?ταν στο πρ?σωπο των πεθερικ?ν σου συγκινε?σαι βλ?ποντα? στοιχε?α τη? γυνα?κα? σου, ?σο στα μακρουλ? δ?χτυλα του μωρο? που αρνε?σαι να παραδεχτε?? βλ?πει? τα δικ? σου και σε κιν?σει? του ψυχ?ρμητε?, τι? δικ?? σου, πω? ?λα αυτ? κραυγ?ζουν, για αποφ?σει? που π?ρθηκαν ερ?μην σου και κατ? τ?χη και ?μω? περ?τρανα και περ?λαμπρα, πλησι?σε, σ?μωσε, αγκ?λιασε.
Ο Μπερντ δεν ε?ναι δειλ??, ε?ναι φυγ?πονο? και ευθυν?φοβο? με τον τρ?πο που αποφε?γουμε ?ναν εαυτ? που παλε?ει να βγει στο φω? και του το αρνο?μαστε, δι?τι αυτ? θα απαιτο?σε περιπαθ? προσπ?θεια σκ?ψη? και ολοκλ?ρωση? μια? συναισθηματικ?? εικ?να? που μα? τρομ?ζει, ?πω? κ?θετ? που διαφε?γει των απλ?ν γεωμετρικ?ν σχημ?των, γιατ? τελικ? αποτελε? δικαιολογ?α για να υπ?ρχουμε ?να το?νελ στο οπο?ο σκ?βουμε παραμ?νοντα? με εν?ργεια στο σκοτ?δι, αντ? για τη διχ?λα που θα βγ?λει σε μια σπηλι? με υψηλ?τερο θ?λο, ικαν? να οδηγ?σει σε μια λ?μνη βαθει? σ’ ?να βουν?, ? στο φω? του ζεστο? ?λιου, στην εμπειρ?α τη? προσωπικ?? αν?πτυξη? εν?? εαυτο? που απαιτε? πια να φωτιστε?, να π?ψουν τα παρ?δοξα και ξαφνικ? να ε?ναι παρ?δοξα και ξαφνικ?, να γ?νουν κατανο?σιμα μ?λη λογικ?? ακολουθ?α?. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση ε?ναι να καταλ?βει? πω? υπ?ρχει ?να ολ?κληρο σ?μπαν μακρι? απ’ το σκοταδιστικ? εγωισμ?, ικαν? να φ?ρει το ?νθο? του νοιαξ?ματο?, τη? συμπ?νια? και τη? αν?γκη? να εξαρτ?ται κ?ποιο? απ? ‘σενα, ?σο και να εξαρτηθε?? εσ? απ’ την αλυσ?δα τη? αγ?πη? και τη? συνανθρωπι??. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση για το Μπερντ, ε?ναι να καταλ?βει πριν νι?σει την πατρ?τητα, τι ε?ναι η πατρ?τητα. Ε?ναι το να φε?γει? απ’ το εγ?, να κινε?σαι στο εσ?, για να πα? στο εμε?? κι αυτ? να οδηγ?σει στου? λ?γου? που κινε?ται το ?λον. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση για το Μπερντ, ε?ναι να καταλ?βει την τερ?στια προσπ?θεια που κ?νει το μωρ? για να επιβι?σει, τον π?νο που συνοδε?ει την απεγνωσμ?νη ?λογη ακ?μη δ?ψα για ζω?, τη στιγμ? που ο ?διο? προχωρ?ει στην τ?χη, με μπ?ρε?, αναμον? και γ..σια που δικαιολογο?ν ? που θα ?θελαν να δικαιολογ?σουν το λ?γο ?παρξη? του. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση λοιπ?ν, ε?ναι να καταλ?βει ο ?διο? γιατ? θ?λει να ζ?σει και μ?νο τ?τε θα καταλ?βει την πατρ?τητα, τον εαυτ? του και το δρ?μο που θ?λει ν’ ακολουθ?σει.
?τσι ?μω? κινε?ται το γρ?ψιμο του ?διου του ?ε, απ’ το ?ξω στο μ?σα, απ’ το παρ?δοξο σ?νολο, στην απ? παρ?ταιρα υλικ? φτιαγμ?νη μον?δα που ζει στο σκοτ?δι και την απομ?νωση, κλειδαμπαρωμ?νη σε μια απομ?νωση που δε δικαιολογε? ο?τε το σκοτ?δι, ο?τε τον αυτοεξοστρακισμ?, μον?δε? που ?λοι ?χουμε ? θα γ?νουμε τελικ? μ?σω τη? διαρκο?? τεχνολογικ?? αν?πτυξη? που κρ?βει την αρχικ? αιτ?α αν?γκη? τη?, για λ?γου? οικονομικο? συμφ?ροντο? με απ?τερο σκοπ? τη διακοιν?νηση τη? αν?γκη? πειθαρχ?α? σε αρχ?? που θ?λουν να συγκεντρ?νουν απ? κ?τω του? τα ?νοα πρ?βατα χωρ?? ψυχ? που πουλ?θηκε πριν καν ακ?μα αποκαλυφτε?, εντυπωσιασμ?νη απ? ψε?τικα χρ?ματα κι αν?παρκτε? ουσ?ε? που μιμο?νται τη λογικ? και την ποι?τητα. Πετ?ει κ?θετ? περιττ?, το ξεσκ?ζει να πεταχτο?ν ?ξω ?ντερα που αποδεικν?ονται χ?ρτινα σαν τα ψε?τικα φρο?τα που βλ?παμε στι? βιτρ?νε? των επιπλ?δικων παλι?τερα και μιμο?νταν την ιδ?α μ?νο του πω? θα ?ταν, εικ?νε? που πα?ρναμε μαζ? μα? και πλ?θαμε, δημιουργ?ντα? την αν?γκη για ?να πιο περ?πλοκο κομ?, η μια σκαλιστ? τραπεζαρ?α για να κ?νει τη ζω? να φα?νεται περιπλοκ?τερη.
Ο ?ε χρησιμοποιε? πολ? στο λ?γο του την παρομο?ωση, η οπο?α εξυπηρετε? παρ?λληλα με την πλοκ?, τη δι?γηση ?λλων ιστορι?ν που δε λ?γονται φωναχτ?, για τον ?διο το συγγραφ?α, την Ιαπων?α, το συνειρμ? μ?σα στον καθ?να μα?, μα το κυρι?τερο πρ?κειται για ?να καλοδουλεμ?νο μηχανισμ? που στ?χο ?χει, να δει ο αναγν?στη? το νι?σιμο που αισθ?νεται εκε?νη τη στιγμ? ο Μπερντ, ?πω? παρομοι?ζει το συσκοτισμ?νο σαλ?νι, με αχυρ?νιο στρ?μα για ?ρρωστα ζ?α σε ?χει π?ει ακριβ?? εκε? που θ?λει. Δε θ?λει να αισθανθε?? ?τι αισθ?νεσαι κανονικ? σ’ ?να σκοτειν? δωμ?τιο μπα?νοντα? απ’ τον ?λιο, αλλ? πω? θα αισθαν?σουν αν ?σουν ??πνο?, με ντροπ? και λ?σσα για το ετοιμοθ?νατο παιδ? σου, με ?να μπουκ?λι ου?σκι στο σπ?τι μια? φ?λη? που κ?ποτε π..δηξε? και το σκοτ?δι εκε?νη τη στιγμ?, σ’ εκε?νο το σαλ?νι ε?ναι σαν το μαγαρισμ?νο, βρ?μικο και νωπ? ?χυρο που ξαπλ?νουν ζωνταν? με ασθματικ?? αν?σε?, πυορραγ?α και τη βρ?μα του αναγγελθ?ντο? προκαταβολικ? θαν?του. ? ?ταν μ?σα στη σοβαρ?τητα τη? στιγμ?? σου γρ?φει πω? η Χιμ?κο πριν πιει το ου?σκι, πλαταγ?ζει το κ?τω χε?λο? σαν ουρακοτ?γκο? που γε?εται κ?ποια λιχουδι? ε?ναι τ?σο αναπ?ντεχα αστε?ο που αντ? να γελ?σει?, μ?νει? ?λαλο? και σιγ? σιγ? συνειδητοποιε?? τι δι?βασε?, γελ??, αλλ? ?χει? καταλ?βει ?μω?. Σε ?χει π?ει ο συγγραφ?α? εκε? ακριβ?? που θ?λει αυτ??. Κ?που κ?που το χιο?μορ κι ο σαρκασμ?? του με ρ?μαζαν. Θυμ?μαι τη στιχομυθ?α που γρ?φει για τον κιν?ζο π?θηκο, γ?λασα τ?σο πολ? που μετ? πονο?σα.
Το sex με τη Χιμ?κο: Για το Μπερντ το sex ?ταν π?ντοτε μια στιγμ? στα σκοτειν? χωρ?? να φα?νονται κορμι? μ’ ?να τρ?μο απε?ρου για το αιδο?ο και τον κ?λπο. Και επιπρ?σθετα των υπολο?πων, τη? γενικ?? τ?ση? φυγ?? απ’ το αναπ?δραστο που ?χει μ?νο? του δημιουργ?σει, συλλ?γοντα? θρα?σματα, ιδ?ω? μετ? το sex τη? αφ?πνιση? – τον ?πνο τη? απελευθ?ρωση? – το sex τη? συνειδητοπο?ηση? καταλαβα?νουμε μαζ? του, πω? ?πεφτε π?νω του σα ληθαργικ? αγκ?θι, ο πανικ?? με το μωρ? πω? ?ταν η τιμωρ?α του για το φοβικ?, αγχωμ?νο, ανεπαρκ?? sex τη? ντροπ??, για τα 30.000 τη? Αφρικ??, για ?λε? εκε?νε? τι? στιγμ?? που π?ρασαν ω? ασ?νειδα μυρμηγκι?σματα αν?μεσα στη λ?θη και τη μν?μη και κατ?ληγαν σε αποτυχ?ε? σαν τα γρ?ηπφρουτ. Και παρ?λ’ αυτ?, τα μαζε?ει και διαφε?γει στο σπ?τι τη? Χιμ?κο. Αυτ? ?μω? ε?ναι κ?τι ?λλο: ε?ναι η πρ?τη φορ? που τα καταφ?ρνει σε κ?τι, η πρ?τη φορ? που κ?τι μοι?ζει καθαρ? κι η πρ?τη φορ? που αντιμετ?πισε ?να φ?βο του, επιχειρ?ντα? να τον κατανο?σει πριν απ’ ?λα.
?σον αφορ? την απιστ?α δεν ε?μαι εγ? που θα κρ?νω το Μπερντ. Υπ?ρχουν ορισμ?νε? λ?πε? που απαιτο?ν δραστικ? μ?τρα για τη διαφυγ? και επιπλ?ον επειδ? ε?ναι πολ? ε?κολο να γατζωθο?με π?νω στην ανωριμ?τητα του Μπερντ, απ? πουθεν? δεν επιβεβαι?νεται η τελει?τητα των ?λλων, ? τη? γυνα?κα? του, πω? εκε?νη δε βολε?εται ε?τε στην παρ?ταση τη? ζω?? του? μαζ? με του? γονε?? τη?, ε?τε στο ακαταλαβ?στικο sex που αποτελε? δικαιολογ?α για να αποφε?γουν ο ?να? τον ?λλο, με την ?δια αηδ?α, των ταμπο? εκε?νων που θ?λουν το sex ω? οτιδ?ποτε ?λλο εκτ?? απ? αυθ?παρκτο τρ?πο επικοινων?α?. Κι η Χιμ?κο δεν ε?ναι η ερωμ?νη απ’ τα παλι?, ε?ναι και φ?λη. Ε?ναι εκε?νη που του τηλεφ?νησε για να π?ει να ξεκρεμ?σει τον ?ντρα τη?, μετ? την αυτοκτον?α του, ε?ναι εκε?νη που τον βοηθ?ει να ξεφ?γει απ? μια νοσηρ? κατ?σταση φυγοπον?α? κι αυτομαστιγ?ματο?, χωρ?? ωστ?σο να του χαρ?ζεται για τι? φαντασιοπληξ?ε? τη? Αφρικ??, με του? οδικο?? χ?ρτε?. Το ?διο το βιβλ?ο για την Αφρικ? και οι οδικο? χ?ρτε? τη στιγμ? που γ?νονται υπ?θεση εργασ?α? για τη Χιμ?κο κι αργ?τερα γεννο?ν τη δικ? τη? φυγ? αυταπ?τη?, παραμ?νουν για το Μπερντ απροσπ?λαστα σημε?α αναφορ?? για να δικαιολογ?σουν την ?παρξη του ονε?ρου, ?πω? τα σμιξ?ματα με τη Χιμ?κο σημε?α αναφορ?? τη? καταν?ηση? του κ?σμου, χωρ?? περαιτ?ρω δι?θεση? προσωπικ?? αναζ?τηση? κι αν?πτυξη?, π?ρα απ’ την ικανοπο?ηση τη? αναγν?ριση? του προβλ?ματο?, που προ?κυψε τυχα?α, παρ? με κ?πο και συνειδητ? προσπ?θεια, εν? παρ?λληλα περιμ?νει π?νω απ’ το τηλ?φωνο να του ανακοινωθε? πω? ο γιο? του π?θανε, με μια εντολ? που ?δωσε σε κ?ποιον ?λλο, εν? εκνευρ?στηκε ?ταν το λευκ? που ?δωσε στο γιατρ?, ω? η υπ?ρτατη βλασφ?μια φυγοπον?α? του καρκιν?ματο? μ?σα του που ?νιωθε τον πανικ? τη? αν?γκη? συνειδητοπο?ηση? που εκκολαπτ?ταν, ?γινε παρ?λληλα κοιν? επιθυμ?α με την πεθερ? του, αλλ? ?χι για να δικαιολογ?σει πια τη δικ? του αν?γκη, παρ? μ?νο την αν?γκη να μην ταραχτε? το δικ? τη? παιδ? απ? το παιδ? ?κτρωμα.
Ε?ναι ?να πολ? σπουδα?ο βιβλ?ο γιατ? ε?ναι προσωπικ? υπ?θεση να αντ?ξει? την κριτικ? σου και να μην καταρρ?ει? σα χ?ρτινο? π?ργο? απ? επιχειρ?ματα που δε δικαιολογο?ν την ?παρξη, παρ? μ?νο την υστεροβουλ?α εν?? μηχανισμο? που σκοπ? ?χει να σε απομον?σει ?πω? χιλι?δε? ?λλου?, απ’ την καταν?ηση τη? ζω?? και να μην παραμ?νει? θ?μα, αλλ? σκεπτ?μενο? ?νθρωπο?. Κι ε?ναι προσωπικ? υπ?θεση ταυτ?χρονα κ?θετ? που αφορ? δυο ανθρ?που? σε ?να ενια?ο σ?στημα και καν?ναν ?λλο, γιατ? ε?ναι ηθικ? ?μεπτο να μην αφορ? καν?ναν ?λλο. Εκτ?? απ? κεινον που παλε?ει να δικαιολογ?σει πρ?ξει? υστερ?βουλε?, ?σο και πρ?ξει? που αποδεικν?ουν την ?γνοια του κι αντ? να αντιμετωπ?σει το συνομιλητ? του στρ?φεται σε ?λλου? για να υποστηρ?ξουν μια υπ?θεση αυταπ?τη? μερικ? δοσμ?νη, ?χοντα? του? αν?γκη για να δικαιολογ?σει τον εαυτ? του στον εαυτ? του, που του στερε? την προσωπικ? του ηθικ? αρτι?τητα, γιατ? ε?μαστε πρ?τα για τον εαυτ? μα?, ?,τι θ?λουμε να γ?νουμε μ?σα στην κοιν? συνιστ?σα του κ?σμου.
?ταν γρ?φω μια κριτικ? δεν ?χω σκοπ? να κορο?δ?ψω καν?ναν, παρ? μ?νο να διακοινων?σω μια υπ?θεση στην οπο?α πιστε?ω με το μυαλ? και την καρδι? μου. Αυτ? σκοπε?ω να κ?νω και τ?ρα. Αδιαφορ? για την εντ?πωση που αυτ? θα αφ?σει, ?σο και για οποιαδ?ποτε ?ννοια μικρομ?ριμνα? εντυπωσιασμο?.
ΠΡΟΣΩΠΙΚΗ ΥΠΟΘΕΣΗ:
Ε?ναι προσωπικ? υπ?θεση η πατρ?τητα. Ε?ναι προσωπικ? υπ?θεση η υπευθυν?τητα και η συν?πεια με την οπο?α πρ?πει επιτ?λου? να αποφασ?σει? αν θ?λει? να ε?σαι παντρεμ?νο?, αν θ?λει? να ?χει? σχ?σει? με τη γυνα?κα σου σαν ?να σ?στημα, ? διαμ?σου ?λλων που θα δικαιολογο?ν την ?δια σου την ?παρξη. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση ε?ναι ακ?μη και να διανοηθε?? να πα? με μ?α τρανσ?ξουαλ επειδ? αυτ? που αποζητ?? ε?ναι τη συζ?τηση χωρ?? ?ργο δ?ναμη?, παρ? μ?νο για την καταν?ηση που θα ?χει ο ?λλο?, ω? ?να? γκουρο? στι? δ?σκολε? και περ?πλοκε? αποφ?σει? τη? ζω??, ?στε εσ? απλ?? να περιστοιχ?ζεσαι απ’ ανθρ?που? που επειδ? σε περιστοιχ?ζουν και περιτοιχ?ζουν θα αποδεικν?ουν πω? υπ?ρχει? για κ?ποιο λ?γο, που σε ‘σενα ?μω? ε?ναι ?γνωστο? ακ?μα. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση ε?ναι να καταλ?βει? πω? ?ταν στο πρ?σωπο των πεθερικ?ν σου συγκινε?σαι βλ?ποντα? στοιχε?α τη? γυνα?κα? σου, ?σο στα μακρουλ? δ?χτυλα του μωρο? που αρνε?σαι να παραδεχτε?? βλ?πει? τα δικ? σου και σε κιν?σει? του ψυχ?ρμητε?, τι? δικ?? σου, πω? ?λα αυτ? κραυγ?ζουν, για αποφ?σει? που π?ρθηκαν ερ?μην σου και κατ? τ?χη και ?μω? περ?τρανα και περ?λαμπρα, πλησι?σε, σ?μωσε, αγκ?λιασε.
Ο Μπερντ δεν ε?ναι δειλ??, ε?ναι φυγ?πονο? και ευθυν?φοβο? με τον τρ?πο που αποφε?γουμε ?ναν εαυτ? που παλε?ει να βγει στο φω? και του το αρνο?μαστε, δι?τι αυτ? θα απαιτο?σε περιπαθ? προσπ?θεια σκ?ψη? και ολοκλ?ρωση? μια? συναισθηματικ?? εικ?να? που μα? τρομ?ζει, ?πω? κ?θετ? που διαφε?γει των απλ?ν γεωμετρικ?ν σχημ?των, γιατ? τελικ? αποτελε? δικαιολογ?α για να υπ?ρχουμε ?να το?νελ στο οπο?ο σκ?βουμε παραμ?νοντα? με εν?ργεια στο σκοτ?δι, αντ? για τη διχ?λα που θα βγ?λει σε μια σπηλι? με υψηλ?τερο θ?λο, ικαν? να οδηγ?σει σε μια λ?μνη βαθει? σ’ ?να βουν?, ? στο φω? του ζεστο? ?λιου, στην εμπειρ?α τη? προσωπικ?? αν?πτυξη? εν?? εαυτο? που απαιτε? πια να φωτιστε?, να π?ψουν τα παρ?δοξα και ξαφνικ? να ε?ναι παρ?δοξα και ξαφνικ?, να γ?νουν κατανο?σιμα μ?λη λογικ?? ακολουθ?α?. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση ε?ναι να καταλ?βει? πω? υπ?ρχει ?να ολ?κληρο σ?μπαν μακρι? απ’ το σκοταδιστικ? εγωισμ?, ικαν? να φ?ρει το ?νθο? του νοιαξ?ματο?, τη? συμπ?νια? και τη? αν?γκη? να εξαρτ?ται κ?ποιο? απ? ‘σενα, ?σο και να εξαρτηθε?? εσ? απ’ την αλυσ?δα τη? αγ?πη? και τη? συνανθρωπι??. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση για το Μπερντ, ε?ναι να καταλ?βει πριν νι?σει την πατρ?τητα, τι ε?ναι η πατρ?τητα. Ε?ναι το να φε?γει? απ’ το εγ?, να κινε?σαι στο εσ?, για να πα? στο εμε?? κι αυτ? να οδηγ?σει στου? λ?γου? που κινε?ται το ?λον. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση για το Μπερντ, ε?ναι να καταλ?βει την τερ?στια προσπ?θεια που κ?νει το μωρ? για να επιβι?σει, τον π?νο που συνοδε?ει την απεγνωσμ?νη ?λογη ακ?μη δ?ψα για ζω?, τη στιγμ? που ο ?διο? προχωρ?ει στην τ?χη, με μπ?ρε?, αναμον? και γ..σια που δικαιολογο?ν ? που θα ?θελαν να δικαιολογ?σουν το λ?γο ?παρξη? του. Προσωπικ? υπ?θεση λοιπ?ν, ε?ναι να καταλ?βει ο ?διο? γιατ? θ?λει να ζ?σει και μ?νο τ?τε θα καταλ?βει την πατρ?τητα, τον εαυτ? του και το δρ?μο που θ?λει ν’ ακολουθ?σει.
?τσι ?μω? κινε?ται το γρ?ψιμο του ?διου του ?ε, απ’ το ?ξω στο μ?σα, απ’ το παρ?δοξο σ?νολο, στην απ? παρ?ταιρα υλικ? φτιαγμ?νη μον?δα που ζει στο σκοτ?δι και την απομ?νωση, κλειδαμπαρωμ?νη σε μια απομ?νωση που δε δικαιολογε? ο?τε το σκοτ?δι, ο?τε τον αυτοεξοστρακισμ?, μον?δε? που ?λοι ?χουμε ? θα γ?νουμε τελικ? μ?σω τη? διαρκο?? τεχνολογικ?? αν?πτυξη? που κρ?βει την αρχικ? αιτ?α αν?γκη? τη?, για λ?γου? οικονομικο? συμφ?ροντο? με απ?τερο σκοπ? τη διακοιν?νηση τη? αν?γκη? πειθαρχ?α? σε αρχ?? που θ?λουν να συγκεντρ?νουν απ? κ?τω του? τα ?νοα πρ?βατα χωρ?? ψυχ? που πουλ?θηκε πριν καν ακ?μα αποκαλυφτε?, εντυπωσιασμ?νη απ? ψε?τικα χρ?ματα κι αν?παρκτε? ουσ?ε? που μιμο?νται τη λογικ? και την ποι?τητα. Πετ?ει κ?θετ? περιττ?, το ξεσκ?ζει να πεταχτο?ν ?ξω ?ντερα που αποδεικν?ονται χ?ρτινα σαν τα ψε?τικα φρο?τα που βλ?παμε στι? βιτρ?νε? των επιπλ?δικων παλι?τερα και μιμο?νταν την ιδ?α μ?νο του πω? θα ?ταν, εικ?νε? που πα?ρναμε μαζ? μα? και πλ?θαμε, δημιουργ?ντα? την αν?γκη για ?να πιο περ?πλοκο κομ?, η μια σκαλιστ? τραπεζαρ?α για να κ?νει τη ζω? να φα?νεται περιπλοκ?τερη.
Ο ?ε χρησιμοποιε? πολ? στο λ?γο του την παρομο?ωση, η οπο?α εξυπηρετε? παρ?λληλα με την πλοκ?, τη δι?γηση ?λλων ιστορι?ν που δε λ?γονται φωναχτ?, για τον ?διο το συγγραφ?α, την Ιαπων?α, το συνειρμ? μ?σα στον καθ?να μα?, μα το κυρι?τερο πρ?κειται για ?να καλοδουλεμ?νο μηχανισμ? που στ?χο ?χει, να δει ο αναγν?στη? το νι?σιμο που αισθ?νεται εκε?νη τη στιγμ? ο Μπερντ, ?πω? παρομοι?ζει το συσκοτισμ?νο σαλ?νι, με αχυρ?νιο στρ?μα για ?ρρωστα ζ?α σε ?χει π?ει ακριβ?? εκε? που θ?λει. Δε θ?λει να αισθανθε?? ?τι αισθ?νεσαι κανονικ? σ’ ?να σκοτειν? δωμ?τιο μπα?νοντα? απ’ τον ?λιο, αλλ? πω? θα αισθαν?σουν αν ?σουν ??πνο?, με ντροπ? και λ?σσα για το ετοιμοθ?νατο παιδ? σου, με ?να μπουκ?λι ου?σκι στο σπ?τι μια? φ?λη? που κ?ποτε π..δηξε? και το σκοτ?δι εκε?νη τη στιγμ?, σ’ εκε?νο το σαλ?νι ε?ναι σαν το μαγαρισμ?νο, βρ?μικο και νωπ? ?χυρο που ξαπλ?νουν ζωνταν? με ασθματικ?? αν?σε?, πυορραγ?α και τη βρ?μα του αναγγελθ?ντο? προκαταβολικ? θαν?του. ? ?ταν μ?σα στη σοβαρ?τητα τη? στιγμ?? σου γρ?φει πω? η Χιμ?κο πριν πιει το ου?σκι, πλαταγ?ζει το κ?τω χε?λο? σαν ουρακοτ?γκο? που γε?εται κ?ποια λιχουδι? ε?ναι τ?σο αναπ?ντεχα αστε?ο που αντ? να γελ?σει?, μ?νει? ?λαλο? και σιγ? σιγ? συνειδητοποιε?? τι δι?βασε?, γελ??, αλλ? ?χει? καταλ?βει ?μω?. Σε ?χει π?ει ο συγγραφ?α? εκε? ακριβ?? που θ?λει αυτ??. Κ?που κ?που το χιο?μορ κι ο σαρκασμ?? του με ρ?μαζαν. Θυμ?μαι τη στιχομυθ?α που γρ?φει για τον κιν?ζο π?θηκο, γ?λασα τ?σο πολ? που μετ? πονο?σα.
Το sex με τη Χιμ?κο: Για το Μπερντ το sex ?ταν π?ντοτε μια στιγμ? στα σκοτειν? χωρ?? να φα?νονται κορμι? μ’ ?να τρ?μο απε?ρου για το αιδο?ο και τον κ?λπο. Και επιπρ?σθετα των υπολο?πων, τη? γενικ?? τ?ση? φυγ?? απ’ το αναπ?δραστο που ?χει μ?νο? του δημιουργ?σει, συλλ?γοντα? θρα?σματα, ιδ?ω? μετ? το sex τη? αφ?πνιση? – τον ?πνο τη? απελευθ?ρωση? – το sex τη? συνειδητοπο?ηση? καταλαβα?νουμε μαζ? του, πω? ?πεφτε π?νω του σα ληθαργικ? αγκ?θι, ο πανικ?? με το μωρ? πω? ?ταν η τιμωρ?α του για το φοβικ?, αγχωμ?νο, ανεπαρκ?? sex τη? ντροπ??, για τα 30.000 τη? Αφρικ??, για ?λε? εκε?νε? τι? στιγμ?? που π?ρασαν ω? ασ?νειδα μυρμηγκι?σματα αν?μεσα στη λ?θη και τη μν?μη και κατ?ληγαν σε αποτυχ?ε? σαν τα γρ?ηπφρουτ. Και παρ?λ’ αυτ?, τα μαζε?ει και διαφε?γει στο σπ?τι τη? Χιμ?κο. Αυτ? ?μω? ε?ναι κ?τι ?λλο: ε?ναι η πρ?τη φορ? που τα καταφ?ρνει σε κ?τι, η πρ?τη φορ? που κ?τι μοι?ζει καθαρ? κι η πρ?τη φορ? που αντιμετ?πισε ?να φ?βο του, επιχειρ?ντα? να τον κατανο?σει πριν απ’ ?λα.
?σον αφορ? την απιστ?α δεν ε?μαι εγ? που θα κρ?νω το Μπερντ. Υπ?ρχουν ορισμ?νε? λ?πε? που απαιτο?ν δραστικ? μ?τρα για τη διαφυγ? και επιπλ?ον επειδ? ε?ναι πολ? ε?κολο να γατζωθο?με π?νω στην ανωριμ?τητα του Μπερντ, απ? πουθεν? δεν επιβεβαι?νεται η τελει?τητα των ?λλων, ? τη? γυνα?κα? του, πω? εκε?νη δε βολε?εται ε?τε στην παρ?ταση τη? ζω?? του? μαζ? με του? γονε?? τη?, ε?τε στο ακαταλαβ?στικο sex που αποτελε? δικαιολογ?α για να αποφε?γουν ο ?να? τον ?λλο, με την ?δια αηδ?α, των ταμπο? εκε?νων που θ?λουν το sex ω? οτιδ?ποτε ?λλο εκτ?? απ? αυθ?παρκτο τρ?πο επικοινων?α?. Κι η Χιμ?κο δεν ε?ναι η ερωμ?νη απ’ τα παλι?, ε?ναι και φ?λη. Ε?ναι εκε?νη που του τηλεφ?νησε για να π?ει να ξεκρεμ?σει τον ?ντρα τη?, μετ? την αυτοκτον?α του, ε?ναι εκε?νη που τον βοηθ?ει να ξεφ?γει απ? μια νοσηρ? κατ?σταση φυγοπον?α? κι αυτομαστιγ?ματο?, χωρ?? ωστ?σο να του χαρ?ζεται για τι? φαντασιοπληξ?ε? τη? Αφρικ??, με του? οδικο?? χ?ρτε?. Το ?διο το βιβλ?ο για την Αφρικ? και οι οδικο? χ?ρτε? τη στιγμ? που γ?νονται υπ?θεση εργασ?α? για τη Χιμ?κο κι αργ?τερα γεννο?ν τη δικ? τη? φυγ? αυταπ?τη?, παραμ?νουν για το Μπερντ απροσπ?λαστα σημε?α αναφορ?? για να δικαιολογ?σουν την ?παρξη του ονε?ρου, ?πω? τα σμιξ?ματα με τη Χιμ?κο σημε?α αναφορ?? τη? καταν?ηση? του κ?σμου, χωρ?? περαιτ?ρω δι?θεση? προσωπικ?? αναζ?τηση? κι αν?πτυξη?, π?ρα απ’ την ικανοπο?ηση τη? αναγν?ριση? του προβλ?ματο?, που προ?κυψε τυχα?α, παρ? με κ?πο και συνειδητ? προσπ?θεια, εν? παρ?λληλα περιμ?νει π?νω απ’ το τηλ?φωνο να του ανακοινωθε? πω? ο γιο? του π?θανε, με μια εντολ? που ?δωσε σε κ?ποιον ?λλο, εν? εκνευρ?στηκε ?ταν το λευκ? που ?δωσε στο γιατρ?, ω? η υπ?ρτατη βλασφ?μια φυγοπον?α? του καρκιν?ματο? μ?σα του που ?νιωθε τον πανικ? τη? αν?γκη? συνειδητοπο?ηση? που εκκολαπτ?ταν, ?γινε παρ?λληλα κοιν? επιθυμ?α με την πεθερ? του, αλλ? ?χι για να δικαιολογ?σει πια τη δικ? του αν?γκη, παρ? μ?νο την αν?γκη να μην ταραχτε? το δικ? τη? παιδ? απ? το παιδ? ?κτρωμα.
Ε?ναι ?να πολ? σπουδα?ο βιβλ?ο γιατ? ε?ναι προσωπικ? υπ?θεση να αντ?ξει? την κριτικ? σου και να μην καταρρ?ει? σα χ?ρτινο? π?ργο? απ? επιχειρ?ματα που δε δικαιολογο?ν την ?παρξη, παρ? μ?νο την υστεροβουλ?α εν?? μηχανισμο? που σκοπ? ?χει να σε απομον?σει ?πω? χιλι?δε? ?λλου?, απ’ την καταν?ηση τη? ζω?? και να μην παραμ?νει? θ?μα, αλλ? σκεπτ?μενο? ?νθρωπο?. Κι ε?ναι προσωπικ? υπ?θεση ταυτ?χρονα κ?θετ? που αφορ? δυο ανθρ?που? σε ?να ενια?ο σ?στημα και καν?ναν ?λλο, γιατ? ε?ναι ηθικ? ?μεπτο να μην αφορ? καν?ναν ?λλο. Εκτ?? απ? κεινον που παλε?ει να δικαιολογ?σει πρ?ξει? υστερ?βουλε?, ?σο και πρ?ξει? που αποδεικν?ουν την ?γνοια του κι αντ? να αντιμετωπ?σει το συνομιλητ? του στρ?φεται σε ?λλου? για να υποστηρ?ξουν μια υπ?θεση αυταπ?τη? μερικ? δοσμ?νη, ?χοντα? του? αν?γκη για να δικαιολογ?σει τον εαυτ? του στον εαυτ? του, που του στερε? την προσωπικ? του ηθικ? αρτι?τητα, γιατ? ε?μαστε πρ?τα για τον εαυτ? μα?, ?,τι θ?λουμε να γ?νουμε μ?σα στην κοιν? συνιστ?σα του κ?σμου.
January 22, 2016
Kenzaburo Oe, Japonya'n?n Kavabata ile birlikte Nobel ?düllü büyük yazarlar?ndan biri. "Ki?isel Bir Sorun"da ba?yap?t? olarak g?rülen en tan?nm?? eseri. Yazar eseri 1964'de yaz?yor. Kendisi de engelli?i bir ?ocu?a sahip olan Oe, bu kitapta beyinden engelli bir ?ocuk sahibi olan baban?n, ?ocukla hesapla?mas?, sahiplenme korkusu, hatta onu omuzlar?nda bir kambur olarak g?rmesi üzerine bir hikaye anlat?yor. Olduk?a karanl?k bir ?ykü bu. Ba?karakter Bird, hepimizin kolayca empati kurabilece?i birisi de?il. Bu durumda kalacak olsak bizim verece?imizi dü?ünece?imiz kararlar, muhtemelen daha kolayca olacakt?r. ?yi ve yahut k?tü olsun. Bu anlamda Bird'in i? sesine ?ahit olmak, y?k?mlar?n? okumak insana bir fikir sahibi olma f?rsat? veriyor.
Kitapla ilgili getirebilece?im en ?nemli ele?ti, bence karakterin sonlardaki d?nü?ümünün ?ok h?zl? verilmi? olmas?. Bu ?ekilde a??r psikolojik travmalar?n neden oldu?u erozyonlar?n, bir anda d?nü?mesi bende inand?r?c?l?ktan ?ok, okuyan? tatmin etme iste?i ile ilgili oldu?u kan?s?n? olu?turuyor. Ama yine de benzerini okumad???m i?in etkilendi?im bir kitap oldu.
Kenzaburo Oe'nin de ?a?da?? Japon yazarlardan ayr?lan bir taraf? var ki, o da daha evrensel bir dil ile yaz?yor olu?u. Yo?un Japon imgeleri dola?m?yor yaz?nda. ?nsanlar kimono giyip, sake i?ip, kanji yaz?p, sephuko yap?p ne bileyim Kyoto ve Osaka dolaylar?n?n resmini ?izmiyor. O yüzden Oe'yi okurken bat?l? yazarlar? okurken ald???m hissi ald?m.
Kitapla ilgili getirebilece?im en ?nemli ele?ti, bence karakterin sonlardaki d?nü?ümünün ?ok h?zl? verilmi? olmas?. Bu ?ekilde a??r psikolojik travmalar?n neden oldu?u erozyonlar?n, bir anda d?nü?mesi bende inand?r?c?l?ktan ?ok, okuyan? tatmin etme iste?i ile ilgili oldu?u kan?s?n? olu?turuyor. Ama yine de benzerini okumad???m i?in etkilendi?im bir kitap oldu.
Kenzaburo Oe'nin de ?a?da?? Japon yazarlardan ayr?lan bir taraf? var ki, o da daha evrensel bir dil ile yaz?yor olu?u. Yo?un Japon imgeleri dola?m?yor yaz?nda. ?nsanlar kimono giyip, sake i?ip, kanji yaz?p, sephuko yap?p ne bileyim Kyoto ve Osaka dolaylar?n?n resmini ?izmiyor. O yüzden Oe'yi okurken bat?l? yazarlar? okurken ald???m hissi ald?m.
October 9, 2007
If you've never read this one and you're looking for a shortish novel that rocked hard enough to win the dude the Nobel Prize, something you can read before the weekend ends, something with serious existential, historical, and cultural HEFT, but also relatively easy reading, here ya go. I taught this in a lit class last fall and several students said it was the best book they'd ever read. Easily in the top ten for me. When people talk about "perfect" novels, an idea I totally glower at, I think of this as an example . . . gets better and better with rereading, too. Bird is not a very good dude for 99% of the novel, but that's the point for the other 1%. Anyway, I find it sort of disheartening that only one of my "friends," some dude I don't even really know, has rated it. Maybe what's wrong with American Letters today is that not enough people have read this late-20th century Japanese masterpiece?!
January 21, 2021
Nobel ?düllü Kenzaburo Oe ile sonunda tan??t?m. ‘Ki?isel Bir Sorun’ sorumluluklar?ndan ka?an, bir türlü büyüyemeyen bir adam?n ?yküsü. ?nan?lmaz ak?c? ve gü?lü bir metindi. Yazar?n diline hayran kald?m. Hüseyin Can Erkin ?evirisi de müthi?ti. Finalini be?enmeyenler olmu? san?r?m. Fakat ben bu romana tam da b?yle sürprizli bir finali ?ok yak??t?rd?m. 2021’in ilk büyük favorisi oldu diyebilirim...
July 31, 2008
I think one reason I love this book so much is because I really detested it when I started reading it. Like, I really really hated the main character. The book starts off with this 20-something college professor named Bird, who is wandering the streets after drinking in a bar. His wife is in the hospital having a child, and Bird is enjoying a mud bath of self-hatred. He thinks, I've wasted my life, I don't really want to be a father, I'm not as attractive to women as I used to be, blah blah blah. Anyway, his wife has the baby and the child has an obvious physical, and possibly mental, deformity. (This all happens in the first 10 pages so I'm not spoiling anything.) It seems as if Bird's whole world falls apart now and he goes on something of a bender.
Anyway, this is the point where I put the book down because I really didn't like Bird, and I felt so sorry for his wife and his new child. He was so bitter about his child, never celebrated the child's birth, no love or appreciation or thankfulness was expressed toward his wife and child at first. I thought, Is this kind of reaction normal, and accepted, for a Japanese man in the 1960s?? I loathed Bird for being so self-centered.
I picked the book up again and got more into it. That was when I had a feeling similar to what I felt reading Catch-22: I was really frustrated with the characters and their actions, and then eureka, I suddenly got the joke. Just like Catch-22, I was SUPPOSED to loathe these characters! This is SUPPOSED to make me furious! I realized Bird was an untrustworthy narrator, because I only got his perspective and I really had to step outside the book and realize he was not presenting reality, only his warped perception of it. And then I felt better :)
Needless to say, I finished the book and really became involved with the characters and their thought processes. I actually did appreciate Bird's (ugly, brutal, piercing) honesty throughout. He wasn't always likable, but at least he didn't pretend otherwise. But I was so involved in Bird's thoughts that I felt gobsmacked when I got to the end. Overall, a very compelling book.
Anyway, this is the point where I put the book down because I really didn't like Bird, and I felt so sorry for his wife and his new child. He was so bitter about his child, never celebrated the child's birth, no love or appreciation or thankfulness was expressed toward his wife and child at first. I thought, Is this kind of reaction normal, and accepted, for a Japanese man in the 1960s?? I loathed Bird for being so self-centered.
I picked the book up again and got more into it. That was when I had a feeling similar to what I felt reading Catch-22: I was really frustrated with the characters and their actions, and then eureka, I suddenly got the joke. Just like Catch-22, I was SUPPOSED to loathe these characters! This is SUPPOSED to make me furious! I realized Bird was an untrustworthy narrator, because I only got his perspective and I really had to step outside the book and realize he was not presenting reality, only his warped perception of it. And then I felt better :)
Needless to say, I finished the book and really became involved with the characters and their thought processes. I actually did appreciate Bird's (ugly, brutal, piercing) honesty throughout. He wasn't always likable, but at least he didn't pretend otherwise. But I was so involved in Bird's thoughts that I felt gobsmacked when I got to the end. Overall, a very compelling book.
May 17, 2020
Nobel Edebiyat ?dülü sahibi Japon yazar Kenzaburo uzun zamand?r akl?m? oyalayan yazarlardan biriydi. Psikolojisi ve kitab?n ismi dolay?s?yla elime almaktan edi?e etmekteydim uzun bir süredir a??k?as?. Tahmin etti?imin ?ok da alt?nda kalmad?. Yer yer rahats?z edici bir kitap a??k?as?.
Karakterin yerine kendini koyup kararlar?n? ele?tirmenin en zor oldu?u kitaplardan biri. Kitap ,?ocu?unun do?um süreci olan 3 -4 günlük bir süreci konu al?yor. ?kinci dünya sava??n?n izleri kullan?lan kimyasal silahlar dolay?s?yla etkisini sürdürmektedir ve bundan nasibini daha hayatlar?nda birinci gününü bile ya?ayamam?? bebekler de alm??t?r. Birdy'in erkek ?ocu?u da o d?nemde ?ok s?k kar??la??lan engelli do?umlardan sadece biridir. Bebe?in ya?ama ?ans? Bidy'in a?z?ndan ??kacak olan bir evet kadard?r. Ya ?lecektir bebek ya da bitkisel hayatta bir ?mür ge?irecektir. Peki bu ki?isel bir sorun mudur ? Yoksa hepimizin parma?? var m?d?r Birdy'in dü?tü?ü bu durumda? Gerek insan ac?lar? , gerekse politik duru?u dolay?s?yla ?nemli bir eser.
Karakterin yerine kendini koyup kararlar?n? ele?tirmenin en zor oldu?u kitaplardan biri. Kitap ,?ocu?unun do?um süreci olan 3 -4 günlük bir süreci konu al?yor. ?kinci dünya sava??n?n izleri kullan?lan kimyasal silahlar dolay?s?yla etkisini sürdürmektedir ve bundan nasibini daha hayatlar?nda birinci gününü bile ya?ayamam?? bebekler de alm??t?r. Birdy'in erkek ?ocu?u da o d?nemde ?ok s?k kar??la??lan engelli do?umlardan sadece biridir. Bebe?in ya?ama ?ans? Bidy'in a?z?ndan ??kacak olan bir evet kadard?r. Ya ?lecektir bebek ya da bitkisel hayatta bir ?mür ge?irecektir. Peki bu ki?isel bir sorun mudur ? Yoksa hepimizin parma?? var m?d?r Birdy'in dü?tü?ü bu durumda? Gerek insan ac?lar? , gerekse politik duru?u dolay?s?yla ?nemli bir eser.
May 19, 2025
It's a destabilizing book. Bird, who dreams of going to Africa, who hates his lousy job, and who is disgusted by his wife, becomes the father of an abnormal child. This shattering arrival turns his life upside down. It plunges him into the throes of a dilemma: wish the baby dead or assume the enormous responsibility that now falls upon him. It's the story of characters who refuse to move forward, to take on their responsibilities, and who flee reality: Himi, Bird, and the Russian diplomat. They all wander around Tokyo, lose themselves in alcohol and sex, and lock themselves in immobility. The plot is grim, and Bird's hesitations, lost in his life, fleeing reality, keep you on the edge of your seat. Will he give up on his dreams and take on a life that disgusts him? Will he commit the irreparable? This terrifying and suffocating heartbreak lasts for three days, during which Bird refuses to decide and waits for fate to free him.
The theme of the story is very personal, and the feelings are very accurate; even if they may seem reprehensible, we feel that the author is trying to tell something intimate and very personal about his disabled son and about the difficulty of accepting a paternity that will put an end to teenage dreams and bring about adulthood in pain and frustration. It is the story of a double birth, that of a monstrous baby and that of a man of whom we do not know if he will be a father or a murderer.
The theme of the story is very personal, and the feelings are very accurate; even if they may seem reprehensible, we feel that the author is trying to tell something intimate and very personal about his disabled son and about the difficulty of accepting a paternity that will put an end to teenage dreams and bring about adulthood in pain and frustration. It is the story of a double birth, that of a monstrous baby and that of a man of whom we do not know if he will be a father or a murderer.
January 23, 2020
Юуны т?р??нд орчуулга ?нэхээр сайн байлаа. Орчуулгын зохиол биш эх хэл дээрх зохиолоо уншиж байгаа мэт цаашид юу болох бол гэж бодон бодон, автан уншиж дуусгалаа. ?гний сонголтууд, найруулга гээд л шууд 5 од. Рю Муракамигийн Токиогийн мисо ш?лийг Молор-эрдэнэ биш энэ орчуулагч орчуулсан бол ч.
Зохиолын хувьд он гараад уншсан хамгийн зэв??н ном 5/5
Уншиж дуусгаад дотор нэг л хачин болоод номынхоо mood-нээс гарч чадахг?й л явна. Айдас х?йдэстэй.
Х?ний сул дорой, амиа бодсон байдал, дотоод з?рчилд??н, шаналгаатай бодлууд, ??р?? ??рийг?? х?лээн з?вш??р?хг?й байх, адын х?сэл, ч?тг?рл?г байдал зэргийг ?нэхээр хайр найрг?й бичжээ. Зарим ?ед дотор арзас хиймээр.
Х?н б?рт ??рийн гэсэн хувийн асуудлууд бий. Тэр асуудалд х?н б?р ??р ??рийн ?нцг??с хандан зарим хэсэг нь шийдвэр гаргахаас зайлсхийж, зарим хэсэг нь ямар нэг шийдвэр гаргадаг.
Бидний ихэнхд нь бусдад хэлэх байтугай ??р??с?? ч ичихээр адын нууцлаг бодлууд, аминч ?зл??д , ч?тг?рл?г бодлууд нуугдан байх агаад тэр нь ??рт тохиолдсон хувийн асуудлуудаа шийдэхэд нь ухамсарт бусаар н?л??лж байдаг. Аминч ?злээ дэвэргэх тусам тухайн асуудалд бодитоор хандаж чадалг?й улам л шаналгаатай, асуудал руу унагах ч шиг.
Асуудлаас зугтааж амьдрах биш, хэн нэгнээр асуудлаа шийдвэрл??лэх гэж оролдох биш хэн нэгний шийдэхийг х?лээх бус асуудлаа ??р?? шийдэх ухаантай байж аливаад ул суурьтай хандах, сонголт хийсэн л бол т??нээс ирэх ?р дагаварууд, ирэх хариуцлагыг ??рэх чадваруудад суралцах нь чухал гэдгийг зохиолын гол д?р Шувуугийн т??хээс тэнэг би чинь ойлгон ухаарлаа.
Амьдрал гэдэг уртаас урт, нарийнаас нарийн олон янзын т?в?гтэй харилцаагаар д??рэн бололтой. Х?н б?рт л асуудал бий.
Зохиолын хувьд он гараад уншсан хамгийн зэв??н ном 5/5
Уншиж дуусгаад дотор нэг л хачин болоод номынхоо mood-нээс гарч чадахг?й л явна. Айдас х?йдэстэй.
Х?ний сул дорой, амиа бодсон байдал, дотоод з?рчилд??н, шаналгаатай бодлууд, ??р?? ??рийг?? х?лээн з?вш??р?хг?й байх, адын х?сэл, ч?тг?рл?г байдал зэргийг ?нэхээр хайр найрг?й бичжээ. Зарим ?ед дотор арзас хиймээр.
Х?н б?рт ??рийн гэсэн хувийн асуудлууд бий. Тэр асуудалд х?н б?р ??р ??рийн ?нцг??с хандан зарим хэсэг нь шийдвэр гаргахаас зайлсхийж, зарим хэсэг нь ямар нэг шийдвэр гаргадаг.
Бидний ихэнхд нь бусдад хэлэх байтугай ??р??с?? ч ичихээр адын нууцлаг бодлууд, аминч ?зл??д , ч?тг?рл?г бодлууд нуугдан байх агаад тэр нь ??рт тохиолдсон хувийн асуудлуудаа шийдэхэд нь ухамсарт бусаар н?л??лж байдаг. Аминч ?злээ дэвэргэх тусам тухайн асуудалд бодитоор хандаж чадалг?й улам л шаналгаатай, асуудал руу унагах ч шиг.
Асуудлаас зугтааж амьдрах биш, хэн нэгнээр асуудлаа шийдвэрл??лэх гэж оролдох биш хэн нэгний шийдэхийг х?лээх бус асуудлаа ??р?? шийдэх ухаантай байж аливаад ул суурьтай хандах, сонголт хийсэн л бол т??нээс ирэх ?р дагаварууд, ирэх хариуцлагыг ??рэх чадваруудад суралцах нь чухал гэдгийг зохиолын гол д?р Шувуугийн т??хээс тэнэг би чинь ойлгон ухаарлаа.
Амьдрал гэдэг уртаас урт, нарийнаас нарийн олон янзын т?в?гтэй харилцаагаар д??рэн бололтой. Х?н б?рт л асуудал бий.
November 16, 2022
124th book of 2022.
This is far more human than the previous ?e book I read (The Silent Cry), and therefore I preferred it. I wonder if I had read them the other way around, I would have been moved differently. A Personal Matter is a fascinating look into a man known as Bird as we follow the birth of his son, who is born with, so the doctors believe, a brain hernia that protrudes from his head like a second head. ?e takes us into Bird's grotesque mind, following him in infidelity, sexual thoughts and the hope that his son dies so Bird does not have to raise a 'vegetable'. Bird, funnily enough, reminded me a lot of Updike's animal nicknamed "Rabbit" Angstrom from Rabbit, Run that was published four years before this. Both men attempt to flee their problems and act out in unsavoury ways. However, there is something imitable about ?e's prose and dialogue: like in The Silent Cry the dialogue feels bizarre and the characters act realistically, but equally, like they are all actors cast as the wrong characters. The whole thing is like a deluded play, as I said in one of my updates. There's no way to put my finger on it, reading him is just unlike reading anyone else. His novels will continue to fascinate me endlessly, I have no doubt.
This is far more human than the previous ?e book I read (The Silent Cry), and therefore I preferred it. I wonder if I had read them the other way around, I would have been moved differently. A Personal Matter is a fascinating look into a man known as Bird as we follow the birth of his son, who is born with, so the doctors believe, a brain hernia that protrudes from his head like a second head. ?e takes us into Bird's grotesque mind, following him in infidelity, sexual thoughts and the hope that his son dies so Bird does not have to raise a 'vegetable'. Bird, funnily enough, reminded me a lot of Updike's animal nicknamed "Rabbit" Angstrom from Rabbit, Run that was published four years before this. Both men attempt to flee their problems and act out in unsavoury ways. However, there is something imitable about ?e's prose and dialogue: like in The Silent Cry the dialogue feels bizarre and the characters act realistically, but equally, like they are all actors cast as the wrong characters. The whole thing is like a deluded play, as I said in one of my updates. There's no way to put my finger on it, reading him is just unlike reading anyone else. His novels will continue to fascinate me endlessly, I have no doubt.
August 20, 2022
4.7 ??
“A personal Matter” is Kenzaburo ?e’s Mangum Opus. The plot focuses on a father whose newborn son is born with a rare but fatal condition: encephalocele, a herniation of the encephalus that in most cases result in death or profound oligophreny and mental retardation. The father, views himself in a in turmoil: should such a child be saved? Is this dystanasic? Therefore he goes into a rabbit hole of doubt and confrontation with ghosts of the past (such as alcoholism) deciding whether or not his son should live.
Stylistically, ?e is a brilliant writer, echoeing every emotion in strong words and giving a dense psyhological world to each character which makes the novel not only engaging but also uncomfortable. The same kind of discomfort when one sees “Guernica” by Picasso. The picture is grotesque but it is a portrait of truth. The same applies to Kenzaburo ?e. This makes the reader reflect some issues: non-conformism, existentialism and dystanasia. Ultimately the message is clear: one cannot run away from its fate.
“A personal Matter” is Kenzaburo ?e’s Mangum Opus. The plot focuses on a father whose newborn son is born with a rare but fatal condition: encephalocele, a herniation of the encephalus that in most cases result in death or profound oligophreny and mental retardation. The father, views himself in a in turmoil: should such a child be saved? Is this dystanasic? Therefore he goes into a rabbit hole of doubt and confrontation with ghosts of the past (such as alcoholism) deciding whether or not his son should live.
Stylistically, ?e is a brilliant writer, echoeing every emotion in strong words and giving a dense psyhological world to each character which makes the novel not only engaging but also uncomfortable. The same kind of discomfort when one sees “Guernica” by Picasso. The picture is grotesque but it is a portrait of truth. The same applies to Kenzaburo ?e. This makes the reader reflect some issues: non-conformism, existentialism and dystanasia. Ultimately the message is clear: one cannot run away from its fate.
June 9, 2017
I'm torn.
On the one hand, this is an extremely well-written short novel about a man coming to terms with the birth of a special-needs child that will inevitably cause him to have to grow up and sacrifice many of his own selfish needs.
On the other hand, I don't recall ever having such intense hatred for nearly every character in a book. I'm not trying to say that I simply didn't like them or that they were horrible characters; I mean that if I knew these people in real life, I would likely be in prison because every single one of them are deserving of some righteous act of God that is reserved for the lowest and most inhumane members of society. And I'd be happy to step up for the cause and do the job.
3.5 stars, rounded up to 4 because.... honestly, I don't think I was supposed to like or sympathize with the characters and because the writing was truly exquisite.
On the one hand, this is an extremely well-written short novel about a man coming to terms with the birth of a special-needs child that will inevitably cause him to have to grow up and sacrifice many of his own selfish needs.
On the other hand, I don't recall ever having such intense hatred for nearly every character in a book. I'm not trying to say that I simply didn't like them or that they were horrible characters; I mean that if I knew these people in real life, I would likely be in prison because every single one of them are deserving of some righteous act of God that is reserved for the lowest and most inhumane members of society. And I'd be happy to step up for the cause and do the job.
3.5 stars, rounded up to 4 because.... honestly, I don't think I was supposed to like or sympathize with the characters and because the writing was truly exquisite.
April 17, 2020
Aunque el final es súper bueno y le daría cinco estrellas, a mi parecer no justifica el horror que es el resto del libro. El protagonista es un pusilánime asqueroso y cuesta mucho empatizar con él, la violencia a la mujer es ATROZ, y lo del ni?o... ufff, es tan sórdido y terrible todo, la mayoría del tiempo, que entre que quería llorar o tirar el kindle contra la pared. La única parte en que me reí fue cuando (spoiler) el profe llega borracho a hacer clases y los alumnos tratan de cubrirlo para que no lo despidan. Está escrito de una manera tan tragicómica y humana que no pude evitar sentir ternura. Fue casi alegre, de hecho, al menos en relación a lo demás.
En fin, que califico esta lectura como altamente traumática. Como una mala pesadilla. La sensación de agobio que produce leerlo es impresionante, y en ese sentido, se nota que el escritor es bueno, pero... igual a mí no me gustó tanto. Fue como vagar en el sue?o de un otro que a veces es tan repulsivo que cuesta reconocerse en él. Me costó mirarlo como propio.
Como el libro ya tiene más de medio siglo (es de los '60) y toca temas difíciles, al principio pensé que quizá eso era lo que explicaba mi dificultad y poca simpatía, pero después me acordé de que "La presa", que es del mismo autor, es todavía más antigua (1957), toca temas igual de complicados y aun así la encontré S?PER BUENA y la llené de rozagantes estrellas. Entonces creo que simplemente no me gustó a mí.
Lo divertido es que después una se pone curiosa y busca en google a este autor, que además es Nobel, y resulta que tiene una mirada de se?or simpático que contrasta con cualquier cosa que uno imaginaba de él, jajaja. Como esta historia terrible tiene tintes autobiográficos, uno piensa que el autor va a ser medio tenebroso, así como el prota, pero no (al menos hasta donde se puede ver)... Quizá sea como ese cuento antiguo que una vez leí, sobre este ser lleno de bondad que pintaba cuadros muy violentos, y resulta que solo era así de bueno porque exorcizaba sus demonios con las obras. Aunque qué sé yo.
En fin, que califico esta lectura como altamente traumática. Como una mala pesadilla. La sensación de agobio que produce leerlo es impresionante, y en ese sentido, se nota que el escritor es bueno, pero... igual a mí no me gustó tanto. Fue como vagar en el sue?o de un otro que a veces es tan repulsivo que cuesta reconocerse en él. Me costó mirarlo como propio.
Como el libro ya tiene más de medio siglo (es de los '60) y toca temas difíciles, al principio pensé que quizá eso era lo que explicaba mi dificultad y poca simpatía, pero después me acordé de que "La presa", que es del mismo autor, es todavía más antigua (1957), toca temas igual de complicados y aun así la encontré S?PER BUENA y la llené de rozagantes estrellas. Entonces creo que simplemente no me gustó a mí.
Lo divertido es que después una se pone curiosa y busca en google a este autor, que además es Nobel, y resulta que tiene una mirada de se?or simpático que contrasta con cualquier cosa que uno imaginaba de él, jajaja. Como esta historia terrible tiene tintes autobiográficos, uno piensa que el autor va a ser medio tenebroso, así como el prota, pero no (al menos hasta donde se puede ver)... Quizá sea como ese cuento antiguo que una vez leí, sobre este ser lleno de bondad que pintaba cuadros muy violentos, y resulta que solo era así de bueno porque exorcizaba sus demonios con las obras. Aunque qué sé yo.
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