On the surface, Yukio Mishima's The Sound of Waves is a conventional romance set on the fictional island of Uta-Jima in early post-war Japan. Although the war is over, the remote location of the island means that many of the old customs are still in place. This means that when Shinji, a poor fisherman's assistant, falls in love with the lovely Hatsue, who is very much his social superior, her father is easily able to forbid the two from seeing each other. Still the two soldier on and because of their superior virtue are able in the end to finally become engaged with the promise that a marriage will soon follow.

This book captures the traditional ideals of its author, who was noted for his conservatism. The main characters are so perfect that at times they seem to lack a certain spark of being that would make them truly human. The only conflict is brought on by those who have been influenced by the Western values of the modern world. The main characters never cause any discord.

The best part of the book lies in Mishima's amazing ability with details. I have never been to Japan nor spent any great amount of time near an ocean, but the world of Uta-Jima is described so perfectly that I can almost imagine I have. The author's style is simple, yet vividly poetic. His attachment to details helps the book come alive.

The tale of poor boy wins rich girl after overcoming parental opposition and beating a rival is as old as man. The only really original thing about The Sound of Waves is its setting in a remote island fishing village. Reading it is like meeting an old friend wearing a new dress, you already know the plot but the details are new. I enjoyed the book immensely, but I can see why others might find it lacking. Still, if you enjoy folk tale retellings, pastoral romances, or glances back at the traditions of a lost world, chances are that you too will enjoy The Sound of Waves ( )

My personal favorite of Mishima's novels, perhaps because it is essentially a conventional pastoral (or piscatorial) romance. ( )

The Sound of Waves by Yukio Mishima appears to be a modern classic that is not holding up well to the test of time. It was one of the first modern literary novels coming out of postwar Japan to gain wide recognition and fame. Its 1956 release in English translation a decade after the close of World War II was perfect timing. It soon became a standard in English classes all over the United States. The book appealed on many levels: as exquisite lyrical literature; as a charming first-love and coming-of-age tale with strong moral overtones; but perhaps most importantly, as a subtle way to build better understanding about a culture that young Americans needed to accept with greater respect following years of war-induced Japanese demonization.

I was only ten years old when this book came on the American scene, so I missed out on having to read it as a teenager. I read it for the first time a few days ago, more than fifty years after it was first published in English. I approached the book with great expectations, but I was sorely disappointed.

First, I suspect much of the original beauty of this lyrical novel is lost in translation. There is still a great deal in the writing to be admired, but the words lack the sparkle of innovation that no doubt exists in the original Japanese.

The story is endearing in its lyric simplicity, but it stretches the credulity of the modern mind. Perhaps I am too world-weary and academically well-read, but for me the story seemed far too unrealistic—more like a fairy tale. All was too rosy, too one-sidedly idealistic, too much the idyll—the perfect harmony of man and nature. I’ve read too much anthropology to know this is possible at any time, in any culture. The noble savage is, after all, a complete fiction. “The Sound of Waves” was Mishima’s own delusional vision of a perfect Japanese past that was quickly slipping away. It was a theme he returned to repeatedly over the next fifteen years of his life before committing seppuku (ritualistic suicide) because, in his words: "I came to wish to sacrifice myself for the old, beautiful tradition of Japan, which is disappearing very quickly day by day." Mishima certainly was not a man of sound mind.

I see no continuing redeeming value to reading this fairy tale in the present day. In its time, it sparked an interest as a lovely tale about love in Japan—subconsciously, it helped move many toward a love of Japan. But those times are over. There is widespread tolerance and understanding of differing cultures.

Today, there are far more compelling works of worldwide modern literary fiction, some written directly in English, that have more meaningful messages to convey to the modern reader—messages that may help us deal with the reality of the human predicament that we find ourselves in at this, the beginning of the 21st century—this an age of widespread terrorism and ecological disaster, a time where oil wars, water wars, global climate change, and famine loom on the not-too-distant horizon. Much modern world literature aims indirectly to helps readers comes to terms with these all too pressing comtemporary world issues. ( )

The Sound of Waves is a romance/coming-of-age story set in a Japanese fishing village. The plot is a modern adaptation of Daphnis and Chloe, the Greek pastoral romance. Shinji, a poor, young fisherman on the island of Uta-Jima (Song Island) meets and falls in love with Hatsue, the daughter of a rich shipowner. There are many obstacles to their love and suspense is maintained as to whether or not the people of the island will accept them and let them be together.

For those of us who have lived next to water, Mishima's lyrical descriptions of a life lived on the sea, within the sound of the waves, will be extremely compelling. In a few sentences, Mishima contrasts the life of the young man, Shinji, with the lives of city youths and describes the island setting as one which gives the community difficult circumstances yet idyllic lives that are always in tune with nature and may develop into extraordinary character. Along with many positive characteristics, like people anywhere, some of the islanders display negative traits; there is jealousy, insecurity, competitiveness, and an attempted rape. We also see bravery (working in boats on the sea, and diving for abalone) as well as humor (in one scene Terukichi, Hatsue's father, reacts fabulously to an insult in the public bath).

Mishima contrasts the simple life of the island with the lives of those outside it (American soldiers camps, burned out hills, luxury liners, bustling cities with bars and prostitutes) without ever straying too far from the main story on the island. The author grapples with the question of how much contact with 'civilization' is necessary to satisfy a man's curiosity without becoming too much that it destroys his ability to truly live in tune with nature.

While the story may follow a boy-meets-girl/can-boy-and-girl-be-together? formula, the simply and beautifully described observations of the characters' inner and outer worlds ensures that the story never becomes a syrupy or sappy romance.

It is a beautiful book which I strongly recommend. ( )

A very classic story, written in a haunting and beautiful style. A delight from beginning to end. ( )