La scrittura di Kawabata mi fa pensare a un dipinto di Monet per la sua pacatezza e limpidezza e per il ruolo centrale che assume il mondo naturale nelle sue narrazioni.

3*
RTC

A pouco e pouco vou devorando a bibliografia de Kawabata e vou gostando sempre um pouco mais. Começo a perceber como entramos nas personagens pela porta da natureza. Neste caso uma montanha, que na minha opinião simboliza o protagonista Shingo, chefe de família, nos seus anos finais, ainda bem e a trabalhar mas já com apontamentos outonais de decadência, um clamor indistinto que se aproxima. Sentem-se os ecos da guerra, terminada há pouco e a decadência que esses anos finais trazem aos amigos. As viagens de comboio para Tóquio, a cerejeira do jardim, os animais atraídos pela casa, como a cadela Teru. E a mulher, envelhecida e sem graça, que tomou o lugar da irmã bonita, a filha deselegante abandonada pelo marido delinquente, as netas invejosas e choronas, o filho adúltero e finalmente a nora, com quem partilha uma inesperada cumplicidade, que lhe inspira proteção e cuidado ou talvez até algo mais.

What strikes me about a lot of Kawabata's post-war fiction is its attendant silence. There are no melodramatic climaxes, no cheap tricks to shock the reader's sensibilities. What plot contrivance, after all, could rival the horrors of Nagasaki and Hiroshima, of World War II itself?

The eerie quietude of Kawabata's post-war Japanese fiction mirrors the silence that must have descended after each horrific detonation. There could be no louder sound, and Kawabata respects this in his nuanced, quiet narratives. He doesn't try to talk over the deafening boom or outdo it with dramatic excess. Instead of showcasing the tidal waves of human relationships, those culminations of resentment and anger that sell millions of books and movie tickets every year, he probes their undercurrents and finds ample narrative potential there. In short, he reads between the lines of family and romantic relationships, giving voice to the motives, memories, and miscommunications that plague them.

A quiet, gentle and beautiful book with many references to nature, a metaphor for life, seen through the eyes of the protagonist, Shingo. The book is set after WW2, during the Allied occupation of Japan. It was originally published as a serial, between 1949 and 1954. The English edition translated by Edward Seidensticker, was first published in 1970. It explores many themes including love, beauty, family, relationships, life, aging and death. I loved the book. I especially liked Shingo because he felt so genuine and human. I looked up some of the places and a few references to artwork mentioned in the book, trying to picture life as it would have been back then. Could not find the crow painting by Kazan, though he did paint lots of crows. Also read about the beautiful Shinjuku Japanese Gardens one of the places where Shingo walks, originally a private garden of the Meiji Emperor, which was destroyed during WW2 and then reopened to the public in 1949.

Some links:

The Great Buddha of Kamakura website

The Great Buddha on Atlas Obscura

The Noh Masks

Shinjuku Gyoen today (Ch 11 - A Garden in a Capital)

Ruins of Shinjuku Gyoen 1945

Paintings by Sotatsu Scroll down for the image of the Puppy in the grass mentioned in Ch 5 of the book.

Bell flower - Kikyo mentioned in Ch 9

Yatsude - The cutting down of this plant mentioned in Ch 12

a scene from the 1954 movie-Danny's twitter post

Setiap habis baca novel jepang itu rasanya pengen menghela napas panjang nan puwaaaassss. Hampir setiap penulis jepang--setidaknya yang saya baca--punya pola retrospeksi yang kalem dan bisa dibilang flat dari awal sampai akhir, tapi sangat reflektif. Ah, keren lah.

Review lengkap menyusul.

"The wild maples in the mountains of his old home."

Shingo is getting old. His memory fails him randomly, he low-key dislikes his wife, son and daughter, and has a weird paternal/sexual obsession with his son's wife. At night, he hears the mountain calling - which he interprets as heralding his approaching death.

So you can guess it's probably not the cheeriest or enjoyable of reads. But even in translation Kawabata's prose is so beautiful, especially when he turns his eye to the scenery, plants, nature and seasons surrounding the home of Shingo and his family. Like the quote above, you'll be reading and then be suddenly struck by the most elegant, evocative sentence.

Meant to give it 3 stars. But as I flashed back the whole journey of reading it, a strangely good feeling came over me. I guess that's what Kawabata does to his readers.