Reviews

After the Banquet by Yukio Mishima

jennifromcali's review against another edition

challenging dark hopeful reflective sad slow-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? Yes
• Diverse cast of characters? No
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.25

kitrey's review against another edition

challenging emotional lighthearted reflective medium-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? Yes
• Loveable characters? Yes
• Diverse cast of characters? No
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.5

faithini's review against another edition

challenging emotional informative reflective slow-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? A mix
• Strong character development? Yes
• Loveable characters? It's complicated
• Diverse cast of characters? No
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.5

Mishima's prose is exquisite, it's beautiful. Sometimes it might seem as if he goes on too long describing the setting, the surrounding, but all of that has parallels with the characters and is rich in symbolism. It's a slow read, but is a poetic one. It's full of allusions and references to other works of art as other Modernist texts are.

I was genuinely surprised to see Mishima write this kind of a novel which is a critique of the conservative society because of what I had previously known about him. Anyways, a solid 4-star read.

bookishblond's review against another edition

4.0

Psychologically complex, After the Banquet is the tragic story of Kazu, a middle-aged female entrepreneur in post-WWII Japan, who fives up her successful restaurant at the request of her husband shortly after falling in love with and marrying this man, a former politician. This novel had an unexpected feminist slant and would make a lovely introduction to Mishima's body of work.

mrswythe89's review against another edition

3.0

Interestingly observed clash of personalities in a marriage. Reading this was sometimes helped by imagining the stern, dignified husband possessed of noble ideals as Kuchiki Byakuya, but sometimes not .... The problem with this was mainly that thing you get when you are reading a book from outside your culture, where you don't know what the narrative conventions are or what's supposed to happen next or what characters' reactions mean. There is a sometimes pleasing, sometimes alienating incomprehensibility to everything.

Anyway I liked this more than The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, which I couldn't manage to finish because the main character was such an asshole.

natasha29singh's review against another edition

3.0

My second Mishima - the writing was brilliant, and there were observational paragraphs that unexpectedly make you laugh. Unsurprisingly, the election arc was the most enjoyable part of the book, and I found the ending satisfying, if a bit predictable. The protagonist is less jaded than [b:Thirst for Love|62801|Thirst for Love|Yukio Mishima|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1624920217l/62801._SY75_.jpg|1191272]'s Etsuko - she's actually endearingly buoyant, as the ending proves - but of Mishima's works, both stylistically and thematically, I would recommend these two together. Great read!

benrogerswpg's review against another edition

3.0

Not my favorite Mishima book, but it still had its moments.

I thought it was particularly slow and dry compared to some of his other works.

3.0/5

emsemsems's review against another edition

4.0

‘It was during the course of her customary stroll the next morning that she discovered at the base of the sunlit ilex tree, the lumps of chewing gum looking for all the world like glistening white teeth.’

None of the characters or the plot charm me one bit, yet I’m compelled to give this a 4. Mishima’s writing is utterly sublime – beyond the gaudy, mechanical and clinical sentiments of (conventional) ‘beauty’. I can’t even describe his writing/work as ‘beautiful’ anymore – it simply feels wrong, inaccurate and lacking. This novel in particular reminded me of his other novel, [b:The Sound of Waves|62805|The Sound of Waves|Yukio Mishima|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1441602562l/62805._SY75_.jpg|132842]. Not because they have similar patterns of narrative(s), but because I was able to enjoy both novels despite my unwavering indifference to the main plot (and/esp. the ‘romantic’ sub-plot).

“This marriage won’t do either you or Noguchi any good. With your talents there’s nothing you can’t do, but instead you choose to shut off your whole future. Look, Kazu, getting married is like buying stocks. It’s normal to buy when they’re low—why should you want to buy stocks with no prospects for improvement.”

‘The past piece by piece crumbled away under her feet, and she was left with nothing to support her. If she went on in this way, there would probably not be a single person to mourn her when she died. Reflections on death convinced her that she must find someone she could depend on, have a family, lead a normal life. But the only way to do this was to go through with the formalities of love.’

Like ‘Sound of Waves’, the romantic story-line is simply a vessel for socio-political explorations. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Mishima rejected the ‘I-novel’ or the ‘shi-shoshetsu’ – holding an opinion of that that sort of writing (which is probably closely related to the ‘auto-fiction’ genre of today) was a lazy form of creative writing; and was too self-indulgent for his taste. Although I share a similar sentiment about that particular genre/form of writing, I am not so ‘extreme’ with my views; I do enjoy a small number of books of the ‘auto-fiction’ genre (Tao Lin’s [b:Leave Society|56215040|Leave Society|Tao Lin|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1610129886l/56215040._SY75_.jpg|87566370] is a brilliant example of a well-written ‘auto-fiction’ (in my opinion), and so is the iconic [b:The Bell Jar|6514|The Bell Jar|Sylvia Plath|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1554582218l/6514._SY75_.jpg|1385044] by Plath; and not forgetting Hardwick’s [b:Sleepless Nights|347413|Sleepless Nights|Elizabeth Hardwick|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1534586269l/347413._SY75_.jpg|1045351]). Mishima based ‘After the Banquet’ on real-life events/politicians and was sued for libel (needless to say, the court/law was not in favour of Mishima). After reading this novel, I think that Mishima must have been flattered by the lawsuit despite the loss and inconvenience. The lawsuit would have amplified the satirical effects/qualities of the book even more. It was exactly the sort of thing that ‘Noguchi’ (character in the book who’s based on or inspired by the lad who had sued Mishima) would have done.

‘Such a view did not, of course, suggest anything human to Kazu. She sensed the vast, beautiful, inorganic presence confronting her. Nature here bore no resemblance to the garden of the Setsugoan; it was not an exquisite, human miniature which she could hold in her hand. Yet, to gaze at this landscape was surely a political act. To gaze at it, sum it up, control it, was the work of politics.’

‘The leopard-like resilience of her comfortably plump flesh made Yamazaki stare in astonishment. Kazu kept her head obstinately averted, her eyes on the garden soaked by the spring rains. The garden was a green blur.’

Mishima has so much literary ‘range’; and the musicality of his writing is so fucking sublime. Every book of his that I’ve read covers a totally different matter – with a whole set of new characters, thrown into a whole different array of setting and environments described so precisely and carefully. Yet, with all that said, (and even with different translators handling his work) each book still feels so quintessentially ‘Mishima’. Is it his close attention and obsession with ‘nature’? Or is it how he unravels the characters’ private, inner monologues and thoughts/passions so accurately, so well – so much so that it edges towards a kind of surrealism but without losing the characters’ human complexities. If anything, it makes them more ‘real’. I’ve mentioned this in every review I’ve written of every Mishima book I’ve read, but every time I’m rendered paralysed (momentarily, temporarily – jaw-dropped, and weak-kneed with raw admiration) by the sublimity of his prose, I think of Virginia Woolf. Reading their work always has that hard-to-describe, transcending quality – like that lingering adrenaline-laced buzz, and ‘high’ you get after going to a fucking amazing gig/concert.

‘The men in their conversation laid an entirely excessive emphasis on accuracy and minuteness of memory. Their conversation somehow reminded Kazu, listening without saying a word, of young men trying to outdo one another in boasting of their knowledge of women. These old men were at great pains to impart credibility to their remarks by insisting on a quite unnecessary precision, and by referring to meaningless details.

Kazu, suppressing her amusement, stared at the wrinkled bits of thin peel, the color of the harvest moon, still sticking to the fleshy fruit.’

‘Noguchi’ is hardly the star of Mishima’s novel. ‘Kazu’ – is. Mishima, in my opinion, writes women characters who would be considered highly transgressive in the period that his books were written/published in. They do not feel like ‘manic-pixie dream girls’, and they are not passive characters (on the contrary, they often take the wheel and drive the plot). Written with all sort of human complexities; and are usually conflicted by many obstacles that are not limited to just the problems ‘women’ face. ‘Kazu’ is not just obsessed with her inevitably fading youth/‘beauty’, but she’s also obsessed with her ‘death’ (or specifically how and where she wants to be buried). I think the latter might be linked with some cultural (and perhaps even religious) connotations that I failed to pick up on/understand – a bit clueless, just as I was with the fiery temple festival in Nara, but to simply read about it was nonetheless quite a sublime experience.

‘Kazu wore on this occasion a small-patterned violet-gray kimono with an obi of dark purple dyed in a single band of chrysanthemum flowers in lozenges. A large black pearl was set in her carnelian obi clasp. She had chosen this particular attire with a view to holding in her ample body and giving it greater dignity.’

‘Here not an echo of the rumbling of streetcars or the blasts of klaxons could reach her. The world had become a still-life picture. How was it possible that emotions which once had flared so brightly could flicker out without a trace? The reasons escaped Kazu. She was at a loss to understand where sensations which had once definitely passed through her body could have gone. The conventional belief that people achieve maturity as they accumulate experiences of every kind seemed to her untrue. She thought it more likely that human beings were no more than blind ditches through which sundry objects flowed, or the stone pavement at a crossroads printed with the tracks of vehicles of every kind which have since passed on. Ditches rot and stone pavement wears away. But once they too were at a crossroads on a festival day.’

Just because the women in Mishima’s novels are not written with the general/conventional concept of ‘femininity’ in mind, that doesn’t mean that they are instilled with unrealistic/superficial, idolatry qualities either. Yet, they do not assume any unrealistic ‘masculine’ roles in society. Through this, he allows the characters to possess a wide range of human complexities. Kazu, in this particular novel of his, is very self-aware – she is conscious of how she is being perceived, of the leverage she holds at every occasion, and of how society ‘functions’. Without her, the political satire would be ineffectual. Is that not ironic? ‘Politics’ are often perceived as a masculine occupation – so much more so in the time period of when Mishima wrote this novel. I think it’s so clever of Mishima to use the characters the way he did. Perhaps he thought that it was ridiculous and comical that politicians always use their wives as – well, essentially human ‘lapel pins’.

‘Kazu’s frankness and honesty easily became exhibitionist before a man she did not especially love. She deliberately affected this mannerism in order to destroy any illusions people might have about her, but it was hardly likely that anyone would entertain illusions about Kazu. There was a plebeian warmth to her plump beauty; not having a single weak spot, it retained, regardless of the jewelry or splendid clothes with which it might be adorned, the fragrance of black loam, a heritage from her native soil. As a matter of fact, this impression of physical opulence saved her chatter from being annoying, and made it seem instead a complementary feature.’

Personally, I didn’t vibe with ‘Kazu’. She was basically a ‘boss babe’ (in the first half of the novel at least). Just because she’s not a feminist icon (that would have totally wreck the novel – steering it astray) doesn’t mean she’s a badly written character by any means – on the contrary, she’s the absolute star of the novel. Stunning character development. Judging from the way she observes her own aging body to the way she questions her own life choices; and particularly the way she observes her personal companions – one wouldn’t immediately assume that this was a novel written by a man in the 1950s (first published in 1960).

‘…the election cannot be said to have been a misfortune in a real sense, for it smashed every kind of counterfeit happiness and resulted in you and Mr. Noguchi showing each other your naked selves. I have been wallowing in the bog of politics for a long time, and I have in fact come to be quite fond of it. In it corruption cleanses people, hypocrisy reveals human character more than half-hearted honesty, and vice may, at least for a moment, revive a helpless trust . . . Just as when you throw laundry into a centrifugal dryer, it rotates so fast that the shirt or underwear you’ve just thrown in vanishes before your eyes, what we normally call human nature instantly disappears in the whirlpool of politics. I like its fierce operation. It doesn’t necessarily purify, but it makes you forget what should be forgotten, and overlook what should be overlooked. It works a kind of inorganic intoxication. That is why, no matter how badly I fail, no matter what disastrous experiences I encounter, I shall never leave politics as long as I live.’

Definitely the most explicitly political of all the Mishima novels that I’ve read. The translator, Donald Keene has referred to ‘After the Banquet’ as Mishima’s most well-constructed novel – exposing the post-war social-political situation in Japan. I can’t say I’m a fan of the translation – felt slightly dated and slightly too ‘direct’. For instance, I’d have liked it better if Keene had used the Japanese names of the trees/flowers rather than their Latin names which felt quite ‘jarring’ and out of place. My favourite translator of Mishima’s novels is Sam Bett (who translated [b:Star|40611182|Star|Yukio Mishima|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1530030712l/40611182._SY75_.jpg|63082770]) so far. After writing this review, I realised that this is the only Mishima novel that I’ve read that doesn’t include murder/suicide (that his novels are often associated with). After having read a good number of Mishimas now, I think the one that had left the most impression on me might be [b:Life for Sale|53203665|Life for Sale|Yukio Mishima|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1587257274l/53203665._SY75_.jpg|1950920]. ‘Life for Sale’ flirts so deftly with absurdism, and I absolutely adore that. Tetralogy, next, maybe?

‘They saw how the rays of the sun, slanting into a grove of tall cryptomerias to the left of the road, caused a mysterious, golden mist to coil between the trunks of the trees. A truck passed alongside, raising an immense cloud of dust. The dust remaining drifted among the cryptomerias, and again turned a peaceful gold.’

arpharrison's review against another edition

emotional reflective fast-paced

• Plot- or character-driven? Character
• Strong character development? Yes
• Loveable characters? Yes
• Diverse cast of characters? No
• Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

dorota33's review against another edition

4.0

"I suoi sforzi si erano dimostrati completamente irrisori, ma lei metteva da parte gli elementi effimeri e si abbandonava interamente alla propria fede nel miracolo, forse l'impossibile sarebbe diventato possibile, e la politica le sarebbe di nuovo venuta in aiuto. Forse la fede luminosa nel miracolo che i suoi ideali avevano acceso e gli sforzi per realizzare i miracoli che il senso pratico aveva compiuto erano, nel regno della politica, la stessa cosa.(...) Kazu si avvicinava all'essenza della politica, il tradimento."