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A review by tristansreadingmania
Spring Snow by Yukio Mishima
5.0
“Oddly enough, living only for one’s emotions, like a flag obedient to the breeze, demands a way of life that makes one balk at the natural course of events, for this implies being altogether subservient to nature. The life of the emotions detests all constraints, whatever their origin, and thus, ironically enough, is apt eventually to fetter its own instinctive sense of freedom.”
- Yukio Mishima, Spring Snow
After finishing this supreme piece of fiction (the first of the tetralogy The Sea of Fertility ), I had the irresistible urge to revisit Gore Vidal's 1971 essay The Death of Mishima published about 8 months after the Japanese author had performed seppuku following a failed coup d'état attempt. It was this essay which prompted me to seek out the work of Mishima. A certain passage greatly struck me, and succinctly explained just what it is about Mishima's sensibility that manages to evoke such a strong reaction in me :
"Yet Mishima wanted a life of the flesh, of action, divorced from words. Some interpreted this to mean that he dreamed of becoming a sort of warlord, restoring to Japan its ancient military virtues. But I think Mishima was after something much simpler: the exhaustion of the flesh in physical exercise, in bouts of love, in such adventures as becoming a private soldier for a few weeks in his middle age or breaking the sound barrier with a military jet. Certainly Mishima did not have a political mind. He was a Romantic Artist in a very fin de siècle French way. But instead of deranging the senses through drugs, Mishima tried to lose his conscious mind (his art) through the use and worship of his own flesh and that of others. Finally, rather than face the slow bitter dissolution of the incarnate self, he chose to die."
It is this desperate longing for a renewed sense of -and respect for- masculinity in all its facets that makes Mishima such an intriguing cultural figure. After Japan's humiliating defeat in WW II the country was forced to metaphorically castrate itself, and over the last couple of decades the Western powers in a lesser degree have as well, but in that case it came about through a series of sociocultural shifts.
Spring Snow of course has a lot more themes on offer. In that respect it is quite a dense read, but one that is greatly aided by Mishima's richly lyrical, sensuous prose. Michael Gallagher must be commended for this brilliant translation, for I felt deprived of none of its intricacies. I was constantly taken aback by Mishima's flawless portrayals of distinctive, unforgettable characters and their emotional states. While quite a traditional writer, he is incredibly meticulous, like a Japanese Nabokov.
Part historical document, part philosophical/spiritual meditation, part love story (in fact two love stories, if you count Kyoaki and Honda's incredibly moving friendship), it is difficult not to find something to derive pleasure from in Spring Snow. In this regard I consider it a nigh perfect springboard for further exploration of Japanese culture during this era. It is simply fascinating, and almost challenges its foreign reader to delve deeper.
If I'd have to hazard a guess, I predict me finishing the entire tetralogy will enhance this first, immensely gratifying tasting even more. How fortunate a discovery, this. Pure joy.
- Yukio Mishima, Spring Snow
After finishing this supreme piece of fiction (the first of the tetralogy The Sea of Fertility ), I had the irresistible urge to revisit Gore Vidal's 1971 essay The Death of Mishima published about 8 months after the Japanese author had performed seppuku following a failed coup d'état attempt. It was this essay which prompted me to seek out the work of Mishima. A certain passage greatly struck me, and succinctly explained just what it is about Mishima's sensibility that manages to evoke such a strong reaction in me :
"Yet Mishima wanted a life of the flesh, of action, divorced from words. Some interpreted this to mean that he dreamed of becoming a sort of warlord, restoring to Japan its ancient military virtues. But I think Mishima was after something much simpler: the exhaustion of the flesh in physical exercise, in bouts of love, in such adventures as becoming a private soldier for a few weeks in his middle age or breaking the sound barrier with a military jet. Certainly Mishima did not have a political mind. He was a Romantic Artist in a very fin de siècle French way. But instead of deranging the senses through drugs, Mishima tried to lose his conscious mind (his art) through the use and worship of his own flesh and that of others. Finally, rather than face the slow bitter dissolution of the incarnate self, he chose to die."
It is this desperate longing for a renewed sense of -and respect for- masculinity in all its facets that makes Mishima such an intriguing cultural figure. After Japan's humiliating defeat in WW II the country was forced to metaphorically castrate itself, and over the last couple of decades the Western powers in a lesser degree have as well, but in that case it came about through a series of sociocultural shifts.
Spring Snow of course has a lot more themes on offer. In that respect it is quite a dense read, but one that is greatly aided by Mishima's richly lyrical, sensuous prose. Michael Gallagher must be commended for this brilliant translation, for I felt deprived of none of its intricacies. I was constantly taken aback by Mishima's flawless portrayals of distinctive, unforgettable characters and their emotional states. While quite a traditional writer, he is incredibly meticulous, like a Japanese Nabokov.
Part historical document, part philosophical/spiritual meditation, part love story (in fact two love stories, if you count Kyoaki and Honda's incredibly moving friendship), it is difficult not to find something to derive pleasure from in Spring Snow. In this regard I consider it a nigh perfect springboard for further exploration of Japanese culture during this era. It is simply fascinating, and almost challenges its foreign reader to delve deeper.
If I'd have to hazard a guess, I predict me finishing the entire tetralogy will enhance this first, immensely gratifying tasting even more. How fortunate a discovery, this. Pure joy.