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“I’ve heard that if you tie a pig down and put food in front of him, the tip of his snout will grow until it reaches the food. Desire is a frightening thing.”
Sanshiro is my second Soseki novel. It’s very well written and — considering Soseki is the godfather of modern Japanese literature — contains some expected elements of Japanese style, theme, and plot. At its core, it’s a Bildungsroman/romance. If that sounds uninteresting, you’d be not entirely wrong; the plot is a fairly straightforward love story. The efficacy of the writing (e.g., the characterization, especially of the unbearably egocentric Yoshiro, the melancholy tone, and the pitch perfect dialogue) engages the reader enough, but unless you’re truly bereft of pensive coming-of-age literary love stories, I don’t view this as a very interesting Japanese novel on its surface.
As such a capable writer though, Soseki hits on some really thought provoking themes. He is especially adroit at conveying the conflicting feelings of youth. Sanshiro, the titular character, battles between protecting himself with the comfort of his polite exterior and breaking out of his shell to obtain what he desires (a girl). The confusion of young adulthood is quietly but poignantly expressed through Sanshiro’s awkwardness. He seems stuck between doing what’s expected of him as a polite young man and what he personally wants to do. He is afraid, most importantly, of letting down his guard. As a result, he has timidity with women. Soseki paints Sanshiro and his world vividly and captures the emotionality and confusion of young adulthood very well.
This conflict extends to Sanshiro’s confusion about the “real world” and an inner/ideal world. Sanshiro is constantly at a crossroads, which as many of us remember, is what being a 17-19 year old is like. It’s difficult to know what is real. In this sense, Soseki wrote a highly effective Bildungsroman. But the plot itself did not fully interest me. Maybe I wasn’t in the mood for this type of book, as I’m usually hooked on similar plots.
Sanshiro is my second Soseki novel. It’s very well written and — considering Soseki is the godfather of modern Japanese literature — contains some expected elements of Japanese style, theme, and plot. At its core, it’s a Bildungsroman/romance. If that sounds uninteresting, you’d be not entirely wrong; the plot is a fairly straightforward love story. The efficacy of the writing (e.g., the characterization, especially of the unbearably egocentric Yoshiro, the melancholy tone, and the pitch perfect dialogue) engages the reader enough, but unless you’re truly bereft of pensive coming-of-age literary love stories, I don’t view this as a very interesting Japanese novel on its surface.
As such a capable writer though, Soseki hits on some really thought provoking themes. He is especially adroit at conveying the conflicting feelings of youth. Sanshiro, the titular character, battles between protecting himself with the comfort of his polite exterior and breaking out of his shell to obtain what he desires (a girl). The confusion of young adulthood is quietly but poignantly expressed through Sanshiro’s awkwardness. He seems stuck between doing what’s expected of him as a polite young man and what he personally wants to do. He is afraid, most importantly, of letting down his guard. As a result, he has timidity with women. Soseki paints Sanshiro and his world vividly and captures the emotionality and confusion of young adulthood very well.
This conflict extends to Sanshiro’s confusion about the “real world” and an inner/ideal world. Sanshiro is constantly at a crossroads, which as many of us remember, is what being a 17-19 year old is like. It’s difficult to know what is real. In this sense, Soseki wrote a highly effective Bildungsroman. But the plot itself did not fully interest me. Maybe I wasn’t in the mood for this type of book, as I’m usually hooked on similar plots.