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sydsnot71 's review for:
Snow Country
by Yasunari Kawabata
A beautifully written short novel. This is the first book I've read by Kawabata and I absolutely want to read more. It is the story of Komako, a geisha living in the mountains and Shimamura, a married Tokyo rich boy. It's a doomed love story. Doomed because Shimamura seems incapable of reciprocating Komako's feelings. Perhaps once, but as the book goes on he seems to find himself less enamoured. Distracted partly by Yoko, who is almost a peripheral character but whose presence starts and ends the book.
They're style of communication is at odds with each other. There's a point where Komako says something and Shimamura can't really process it: "That straightforward manner, so replete with direct, immediate feeling, was quite foreign to Shimamura, the idler who had inherited his money."(p. 90)
I made a note that said Shimamura is a bit of a twat. He seems to be one of those aimless wealthy men who temporarily fall in love with women and then stop. They don't care too much about the woman they get involved with who might actually fall in love with them. Perhaps I'm being harsh, because Shimamura seems to be 'empty'. Emptiness comes up a few times and perhaps he is trying to find a way to fill that emptiness?
The writing though - translated by Edward G Seidensticker in 1956 - is delightful, especially the description of landscape. It feels emotionally not unlike the kind of British films made in the 30s/40s. Where men never properly express their emotions. It's all about appearances.
What more can I say?
They're style of communication is at odds with each other. There's a point where Komako says something and Shimamura can't really process it: "That straightforward manner, so replete with direct, immediate feeling, was quite foreign to Shimamura, the idler who had inherited his money."(p. 90)
I made a note that said Shimamura is a bit of a twat. He seems to be one of those aimless wealthy men who temporarily fall in love with women and then stop. They don't care too much about the woman they get involved with who might actually fall in love with them. Perhaps I'm being harsh, because Shimamura seems to be 'empty'. Emptiness comes up a few times and perhaps he is trying to find a way to fill that emptiness?
The writing though - translated by Edward G Seidensticker in 1956 - is delightful, especially the description of landscape. It feels emotionally not unlike the kind of British films made in the 30s/40s. Where men never properly express their emotions. It's all about appearances.
What more can I say?