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4.1 AVERAGE
4.1 AVERAGE
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Plot
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
How do you describe with words a book that made you feel like a child again? But at the same time, it made you feel more empathetic as an adult?
Reading Vasily Eroshenko's work, was like reading again Aesop's Fables. As an avid fan of Japanese folklore, this book was a pleasant journey. I liked the fact that this book contained both Japanese and Chinese Tales, but also some personal experiences of the writer.
I honestly can't chose which one was my favorite, it is impossible. Of the Japanese Tales I really liked "An Eagle's Heart", but also "Little Pine" and "Two Little Deaths". All three stories were sad, but all three of them taught me something. "An Eagle's Heart" 's gist was that pride and hope are of utmost importance, and once they're crushed, a person can be changed inside and out. "Little Pine" made me so emotional and it emphasized how much fragile life is. Finally, "Two Little Deaths" underlined the power of humility, and how Death is equal to all, regardless of social status or economic standing. On the other hand, what pleasantly surprised me was the totality of Chinese Tales. The one that will stay with me though is definitely"Father Time", and I think that this story would be beautiful in an audiobook form.
I also liked the writer's stories from his own life, as a student in school for blind cildren, how they saw the world with the rest of their senses and the way they were perceived as from their entourage. How growing up his work and his circle impacted his life.
Thank you NetGalley for this ARC in exchange for an honest review! This book is out on March 7 2023!
Reading Vasily Eroshenko's work, was like reading again Aesop's Fables. As an avid fan of Japanese folklore, this book was a pleasant journey. I liked the fact that this book contained both Japanese and Chinese Tales, but also some personal experiences of the writer.
I honestly can't chose which one was my favorite, it is impossible. Of the Japanese Tales I really liked "An Eagle's Heart", but also "Little Pine" and "Two Little Deaths". All three stories were sad, but all three of them taught me something. "An Eagle's Heart" 's gist was that pride and hope are of utmost importance, and once they're crushed, a person can be changed inside and out. "Little Pine" made me so emotional and it emphasized how much fragile life is. Finally, "Two Little Deaths" underlined the power of humility, and how Death is equal to all, regardless of social status or economic standing. On the other hand, what pleasantly surprised me was the totality of Chinese Tales. The one that will stay with me though is definitely"Father Time", and I think that this story would be beautiful in an audiobook form.
I also liked the writer's stories from his own life, as a student in school for blind cildren, how they saw the world with the rest of their senses and the way they were perceived as from their entourage. How growing up his work and his circle impacted his life.
Thank you NetGalley for this ARC in exchange for an honest review! This book is out on March 7 2023!
I didn’t quite know what to expect going in to this but it was very interesting. The introduction does a very thorough job providing background and context. The stories themselves are creative and interesting with the political themes woven throughout. Overall it was an enjoyable new experience in fairy tales.
ARC provided by NetGalley, review freely given by me.
ARC provided by NetGalley, review freely given by me.
These stories use a lot of metaphors and have political messages. They feel sad, dark, and make you feel down. Eroshenko’s writing is beautiful and deeply wise. These seemingly simple stories are not easy to read and are more like tales with political and philosophical messages. Eroshenko's stories have a complete storyline with hidden meanings and symbols. Eroshenko stands up for those who don't have a voice: people in jail for political reasons, people who are unjustly blamed for things, people who are treated badly to scare others, and especially those who ask difficult questions and challenge the authorities. I really enjoyed this book and think you should definitely give it a try.
dark
informative
Many thanks to NetGalley and Columbia University Press for giving me an ARC in exchange for an honest review!
I've always been fond of fairy tales, especially those that stray from the Western canon to surface the anxieties and the joys of other cultures. Browsing for a collection to satisfy this particular inclination, Eroshenko's The Narrow Cage and Other Modern Fairy Tales stood out, despite the author being relatively unknown to me at the time, because it boasted of East Asian stories from a Ukrainian writer. The conflation intrigued me. I went into it knowing nothing but the bare bones of what I was getting into, and didn't even think to try and make sense of how I was going to engage with it.
Vasily Eroshenko (or Vasyl Yeroshenko, the introduction kindly supplies, as it is pronounced in Ukrainian) was a colorful figure: left blind after a childhood illness, proponent of Esperanto, at turns beloved and turned away by the countries he'd called home for being too much or too little of a political darling. His writing is infused with the life he lived, his politics coded into dialogue. This collection of fairy tales, translated by Adam Kuplowsky, are rich with his views on disability, society, and humanity. The first, in particular, is an unforgiving lens: he is all too aware of how humans are capable of such cruelty, both to each other and to the world we live in. That is to say, most—if not all—of these stories lean heavy, the way fairy tales do. Props must be given to Kuplowsky, whose translation retains not only the rhythm and the cadence of a fairy tale but also its distinct Asian-ness. (A caveat: I'm only slightly more familiar with Japanese literature, which the first half of this collection focuses on, and can only speak to that specific narrative accent. Levels of translation exist here, but I do feel that the translator has more or less remained loyal to the spirit of the work.) These are easy to read at a technical level, which seems intentional: in the introduction, the form is an ideological apparatus, meant for children new to the workings of the world.
In particular, I was drawn to how Eroshenko writes of disability in this fairy tale universe. Stories like "The Paper Lantern," "Little Pine," and, "For the Sake of Mankind"—though they vary in tone—testify to how the world treats people living with disabilities. From the lack of accessibility at a systemic level, to the way they are treated as something less than human, these stories, told in this way, are a biting critique of things we—as able-bodied folk—take for granted.
The Narrow Cage and Other Modern Fairy Tales, a collection translated to English for the first time, is a very strong work, both as a work of translation, but also in general. At the most basic level, its stories are entertaining and thought-provoking. It has heart. It works for children and adults alike. In that sense alone, it has succeeded in bringing Eroshenko to greater readership and public debate.
As a personal aside, I do think that some stories work better than others. For example, "For the Sake of Mankind" (mentioned above) and "The Death of the Canary" have stayed with me since I read them. The inclusion of "Easter," too, was a very welcome addition. The others, I checked off the reading list and not thought of since. I recognize this is my own personal taste, but that said, this isn't a collection that everyone will get into, despite any overarching interest in fairy tales. This is better recommended to those with more of a general interest in broadening their reading. My rating, then, is more a reflection of the strength of the collection as a whole, including all supplementary texts and the translation work.
I've always been fond of fairy tales, especially those that stray from the Western canon to surface the anxieties and the joys of other cultures. Browsing for a collection to satisfy this particular inclination, Eroshenko's The Narrow Cage and Other Modern Fairy Tales stood out, despite the author being relatively unknown to me at the time, because it boasted of East Asian stories from a Ukrainian writer. The conflation intrigued me. I went into it knowing nothing but the bare bones of what I was getting into, and didn't even think to try and make sense of how I was going to engage with it.
Vasily Eroshenko (or Vasyl Yeroshenko, the introduction kindly supplies, as it is pronounced in Ukrainian) was a colorful figure: left blind after a childhood illness, proponent of Esperanto, at turns beloved and turned away by the countries he'd called home for being too much or too little of a political darling. His writing is infused with the life he lived, his politics coded into dialogue. This collection of fairy tales, translated by Adam Kuplowsky, are rich with his views on disability, society, and humanity. The first, in particular, is an unforgiving lens: he is all too aware of how humans are capable of such cruelty, both to each other and to the world we live in. That is to say, most—if not all—of these stories lean heavy, the way fairy tales do. Props must be given to Kuplowsky, whose translation retains not only the rhythm and the cadence of a fairy tale but also its distinct Asian-ness. (A caveat: I'm only slightly more familiar with Japanese literature, which the first half of this collection focuses on, and can only speak to that specific narrative accent. Levels of translation exist here, but I do feel that the translator has more or less remained loyal to the spirit of the work.) These are easy to read at a technical level, which seems intentional: in the introduction, the form is an ideological apparatus, meant for children new to the workings of the world.
In particular, I was drawn to how Eroshenko writes of disability in this fairy tale universe. Stories like "The Paper Lantern," "Little Pine," and, "For the Sake of Mankind"—though they vary in tone—testify to how the world treats people living with disabilities. From the lack of accessibility at a systemic level, to the way they are treated as something less than human, these stories, told in this way, are a biting critique of things we—as able-bodied folk—take for granted.
The Narrow Cage and Other Modern Fairy Tales, a collection translated to English for the first time, is a very strong work, both as a work of translation, but also in general. At the most basic level, its stories are entertaining and thought-provoking. It has heart. It works for children and adults alike. In that sense alone, it has succeeded in bringing Eroshenko to greater readership and public debate.
As a personal aside, I do think that some stories work better than others. For example, "For the Sake of Mankind" (mentioned above) and "The Death of the Canary" have stayed with me since I read them. The inclusion of "Easter," too, was a very welcome addition. The others, I checked off the reading list and not thought of since. I recognize this is my own personal taste, but that said, this isn't a collection that everyone will get into, despite any overarching interest in fairy tales. This is better recommended to those with more of a general interest in broadening their reading. My rating, then, is more a reflection of the strength of the collection as a whole, including all supplementary texts and the translation work.
A blind man looks forward to a red revolution, but he cannot see that the only red waiting beyond it is a sea of blood.
I had never heard of Vasily Eroshenko before discovering this book. He was an interesting man; I detest him, but nonetheless. Born in 1890 and blinded by measles as a child (this was before vaccines), he attended a school for the blind and became a violinist. But it wasn't long afterward that he found his true love: Esperanto.
Mastering the language and taking advantage of the Esperantist communities around the globe, Eroshenko traveled for the first part of his adulthood, going first to Europe, then to Japan, then traveling to other Asian countries, returning to Japan, being deported to Russia, being turned away from Russia, ending up in China - and so on, until he finally settled in the USSR.
"Wait, what's that about deportation and being turned away from Russia?", I hear you ask. Well, he was a political activist of a sort nobody likes: a bit of a communist, a lot of an anarchist, hateful of everyone except idealized groups.
It shows in the stories in this volume: he has a quarrel to pick with religion, the rich, the socialists. He distrusts anyone who holds power, that is, and hopes for it to return to the hands of the poor people with pure hearts. Which is a very nice wish; but the world doesn't work that way.
Fables do work on a more idealist level, however, so the stories are decent. Here, let me recount one, though Eroshenko's telling of it surpases my own. There is a kingdom where Cold and Darkness rule and their evil children rule the land. People are forbidden from heating their homes or even lighting candles. There is a tale that says that the sun rising could help them all, but the sun never rises. But one day, Hope (a foreigner and much distrusted) arrives in the kingdom and says that the way to bring the sun is simple: a red flower must bloom. The seeds of the red flower are easy to find, however - but they need heat and light to bloom, alas, and in the absence of the sun, what can be done? So young men tear open their chests and plant the seeds in their own hearts, so the flowers bloom and the sun rises; but the men who brought it never see it, for they've given their lives to the flowers.
That's very nice. The red flower is the (communist) revolution, of course. The sun is a better tomorrow, with all the happiness, joy and bounty it will bring; except in order to bring it, dreams have to die fighting to make it happen. Which is what happened in Russia, except that blood flowed, many people were oppressed, and... well, communist regimes deserve to be studied as a horror of their own.
In a later tale, Eroshenko "dreams" of a young man who goes to bring the red flower to the people desperate to have it so it will bring them joy, but he brings back a white flower, which is only dyed red, or reddened with blood. It's a false red flower, that he had mistaken for the red one.
The white Russians, of course, were the tzarist forces who opposed the revolutionary red Russians. When Eroshenko sees the result of the revolution, he notices it's the same old, same old oppresive shtick. It hasn't changed a thing, the old gods are still there as before. At heart, he's one with all those who claim communism has never been *truly* tried, I suppose; without seeing that maybe there's something wrong with the sort of revolution he wanted.
Some stories are perhaps less politically charged. Some I found confusing (did the surgeon kill his child? is the child the dog now? is the dog the child? is anyone a ghost? was it all about baseless rumours? what).
I liked "The Narrow Cage and Other Modern Fairy Tales" because it's an interesting snapshot from a hundred years ago. It brings to light the hopes of communism; but it also says something about what the public would have read back then. Eroshenko's autobiographical bits towards the end draw attention to a part of history rarely mentioned (Vladivostok occupied by the Japanese and the White Russians still there). The introduction is amazingly helpful and the translation is very fluent and pleasant to read.
As far as the stories themselves go, however... I'm not impressed. Maybe it's the fact that it's 100 years and too many communist regimes later to be able to read them without a background of political criticism slowly churning through my mind.
Thank you, Columbia University Press and NetGalley, for providing a free ARC.
I had never heard of Vasily Eroshenko before discovering this book. He was an interesting man; I detest him, but nonetheless. Born in 1890 and blinded by measles as a child (this was before vaccines), he attended a school for the blind and became a violinist. But it wasn't long afterward that he found his true love: Esperanto.
Mastering the language and taking advantage of the Esperantist communities around the globe, Eroshenko traveled for the first part of his adulthood, going first to Europe, then to Japan, then traveling to other Asian countries, returning to Japan, being deported to Russia, being turned away from Russia, ending up in China - and so on, until he finally settled in the USSR.
"Wait, what's that about deportation and being turned away from Russia?", I hear you ask. Well, he was a political activist of a sort nobody likes: a bit of a communist, a lot of an anarchist, hateful of everyone except idealized groups.
It shows in the stories in this volume: he has a quarrel to pick with religion, the rich, the socialists. He distrusts anyone who holds power, that is, and hopes for it to return to the hands of the poor people with pure hearts. Which is a very nice wish; but the world doesn't work that way.
Fables do work on a more idealist level, however, so the stories are decent. Here, let me recount one, though Eroshenko's telling of it surpases my own. There is a kingdom where Cold and Darkness rule and their evil children rule the land. People are forbidden from heating their homes or even lighting candles. There is a tale that says that the sun rising could help them all, but the sun never rises. But one day, Hope (a foreigner and much distrusted) arrives in the kingdom and says that the way to bring the sun is simple: a red flower must bloom. The seeds of the red flower are easy to find, however - but they need heat and light to bloom, alas, and in the absence of the sun, what can be done? So young men tear open their chests and plant the seeds in their own hearts, so the flowers bloom and the sun rises; but the men who brought it never see it, for they've given their lives to the flowers.
That's very nice. The red flower is the (communist) revolution, of course. The sun is a better tomorrow, with all the happiness, joy and bounty it will bring; except in order to bring it, dreams have to die fighting to make it happen. Which is what happened in Russia, except that blood flowed, many people were oppressed, and... well, communist regimes deserve to be studied as a horror of their own.
In a later tale, Eroshenko "dreams" of a young man who goes to bring the red flower to the people desperate to have it so it will bring them joy, but he brings back a white flower, which is only dyed red, or reddened with blood. It's a false red flower, that he had mistaken for the red one.
The white Russians, of course, were the tzarist forces who opposed the revolutionary red Russians. When Eroshenko sees the result of the revolution, he notices it's the same old, same old oppresive shtick. It hasn't changed a thing, the old gods are still there as before. At heart, he's one with all those who claim communism has never been *truly* tried, I suppose; without seeing that maybe there's something wrong with the sort of revolution he wanted.
Some stories are perhaps less politically charged. Some I found confusing (did the surgeon kill his child? is the child the dog now? is the dog the child? is anyone a ghost? was it all about baseless rumours? what).
I liked "The Narrow Cage and Other Modern Fairy Tales" because it's an interesting snapshot from a hundred years ago. It brings to light the hopes of communism; but it also says something about what the public would have read back then. Eroshenko's autobiographical bits towards the end draw attention to a part of history rarely mentioned (Vladivostok occupied by the Japanese and the White Russians still there). The introduction is amazingly helpful and the translation is very fluent and pleasant to read.
As far as the stories themselves go, however... I'm not impressed. Maybe it's the fact that it's 100 years and too many communist regimes later to be able to read them without a background of political criticism slowly churning through my mind.
Thank you, Columbia University Press and NetGalley, for providing a free ARC.
Happy Publication Day! (March 7, 2023)
The Narrow Cage and Other Modern Fairy Tales is a selection of short stories written by Ukraine-born Vasily Eroshenko, “A BLIND poet. An Esperantist. A humanist. An egoist. A partisan. An anarchist. A “red” Russian. A “white” Russian. A Ukrainian. A child-like dreamer. A harborer of dangerous thoughts . ..” translated from Japanese and Esperanto by Adam Kuplowsky.
A bit of perspective on the author- his life and times- are of vital importance to fully appreciate these tales. I would urge readers to not skip the Foreword (by Jack Zipes) and the detailed Introduction ( by Adam Kuplowsky.) which give us insight into Eroshenko’s life - from his early days to his life and times in Western Europe and Central Asia, Esperantism, his activism and his political leanings for which he was constantly under watchful eyes.
Heavy in metaphors and political messages, the tone of these stories tends toward melancholic, dark and depressing. The tales feature interactions between humans, nature and animals (anthropomorphism is a common feature in these stories as in most fables). A few stories feature characters who are blind but rarely is the disability the central focus of the story.
Of the thirteen stories from the Japanese Tales ( written between 1915-1921), my favorites were “The Tale of the Paper Lantern”, a story that inspired the author’s experiences as a blind man (He lost his eyesight when he was four years old); “An Eagle’s Heart” and “Spring Night’s Dream”. Of the four Chinese tales ( written between 1921 -1923) I found “Father Time” and excerpts From “Tales of a Withered Leaf” particularly moving. Toward the end of the book, we also find a few autobiographical stories from the author’s life. The stories include excerpts from his experiences during his school days and his deportation and journey from Japan back to his homeland in 1921. The book concludes with “A Chukchi Story” (1933), inspired by the folklore of the indigenous population of north-eastern Siberia.
Eroshenko’s writing is poetic and profoundly insightful. These deceptively simple stories cannot be considered light reading and are more like fables with political and philosophical undertones. Overall this is an exceptional collection of tales that I thoroughly enjoyed.
Many thanks to Columbia University Press and NetGalley for the digital review copy of this collection of stories. All opinions expressed in this review are my own.
The Narrow Cage and Other Modern Fairy Tales is a selection of short stories written by Ukraine-born Vasily Eroshenko, “A BLIND poet. An Esperantist. A humanist. An egoist. A partisan. An anarchist. A “red” Russian. A “white” Russian. A Ukrainian. A child-like dreamer. A harborer of dangerous thoughts . ..” translated from Japanese and Esperanto by Adam Kuplowsky.
A bit of perspective on the author- his life and times- are of vital importance to fully appreciate these tales. I would urge readers to not skip the Foreword (by Jack Zipes) and the detailed Introduction ( by Adam Kuplowsky.) which give us insight into Eroshenko’s life - from his early days to his life and times in Western Europe and Central Asia, Esperantism, his activism and his political leanings for which he was constantly under watchful eyes.
Heavy in metaphors and political messages, the tone of these stories tends toward melancholic, dark and depressing. The tales feature interactions between humans, nature and animals (anthropomorphism is a common feature in these stories as in most fables). A few stories feature characters who are blind but rarely is the disability the central focus of the story.
Of the thirteen stories from the Japanese Tales ( written between 1915-1921), my favorites were “The Tale of the Paper Lantern”, a story that inspired the author’s experiences as a blind man (He lost his eyesight when he was four years old); “An Eagle’s Heart” and “Spring Night’s Dream”. Of the four Chinese tales ( written between 1921 -1923) I found “Father Time” and excerpts From “Tales of a Withered Leaf” particularly moving. Toward the end of the book, we also find a few autobiographical stories from the author’s life. The stories include excerpts from his experiences during his school days and his deportation and journey from Japan back to his homeland in 1921. The book concludes with “A Chukchi Story” (1933), inspired by the folklore of the indigenous population of north-eastern Siberia.
Eroshenko’s writing is poetic and profoundly insightful. These deceptively simple stories cannot be considered light reading and are more like fables with political and philosophical undertones. Overall this is an exceptional collection of tales that I thoroughly enjoyed.
Many thanks to Columbia University Press and NetGalley for the digital review copy of this collection of stories. All opinions expressed in this review are my own.
This incredible collection of Japanese and Chinese folk tales is full of profound tales I've never heard before. The enigmatic author has translated these works beautifully. I am far more familiar with Western fairy tales and fables, so these were all new to my eyes. Some were quite depressing, in particular a tragic story about a sad carp fish becoming disillusioned with organized religion. I highly recommend this book to not only those with an academic interest, but to anyone with an appreciation for great stories.
I received a digital ARC of this book.
I received a digital ARC of this book.
mysterious
reflective
relaxing
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
Vasily Eroshenko, a blind Ukrainian writer who wrote in Japanese and Esperanto, who was exiled from Japan, and drifted to China, who led an incredibly fascinating life, is someone I’d never heard of till this week, when this book was released. And such a shame, because his work is as brilliant as his life. This translation, by Adam Kuplowsky, is brilliantly done, and the notes and forwards by both Kuplowsky and Jack Zipes really contextualize Eroshenko’s work.
These fairy tales are truly centred in the tradition (ie. not Disneyfied), but take on unique twists: Eroshenko does not shy from disability or try to cure it, and he explores fairy tales as a vehicle for sharing socialist philosophies - for which he ended up being deported from Japan. These stories are so beautiful, and with additional pieces from Eroshenko’s reflections on his life, and Kuplowsky’s diligent work in translating, this is a haunting must-read.
I received this ARC via NetGalley.
These fairy tales are truly centred in the tradition (ie. not Disneyfied), but take on unique twists: Eroshenko does not shy from disability or try to cure it, and he explores fairy tales as a vehicle for sharing socialist philosophies - for which he ended up being deported from Japan. These stories are so beautiful, and with additional pieces from Eroshenko’s reflections on his life, and Kuplowsky’s diligent work in translating, this is a haunting must-read.
I received this ARC via NetGalley.
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A