Kenzaburō Ōe (1935–2023)

Based on some reviews I read online, I was expecting this book to be hard work. Most reviewers complained that the book is miserable, the characters unpleasant and unsympathetic. While there isn't much in the way of joy or levity in the pages, I felt some sympathy for the main characters. Their lives are hung about with tragedy and hard decisions, and their relations with each other are corrupted as a result. Mitsu and his wife are struggling to make sense of their child's birth defect. show more Mitsu's remaining brother Taka is trying to find a place for himself in the world. He is angry and misguided, and the least likeable of the characters, but he stands as an example of those in Japanese society unwilling to accept their post war subjugation who seek to establish their relevance through violence. Mitsu is weak and floundering in depression. I wanted him to stand up to his brother, but could see why he didn't, in his self-imposed role of guardian of his family's heritage and shame. Largely set in the dying village of their youth in winter, the sense of claustrophobia mounts as Mitsu, prevented by snow from returning to Tokyo, retreats into isolation and Taka exploits the pent up frustration of the village's young men. As events escalate, Mitsu seems on the brink of losing everything, but then Taka makes an unexpected move.

From this novel, the only one of Ōe's I have read so far, it is clear to me why Ōe was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature, while his contemporary Mishima wasn't. Ōe's prose, in comparison to Mishima's, is poetic and graceful. While there are political messages in the story, they aren't thrust down the reader's throat. The novel is an exploration of human fragility, of our responses to uncontrollable events, of the choices we make in life. It examines the stories we tell ourselves and the way we manipulate memory to both form our self-image and justify it. It considers the nature of truth and whether we ever truly know it or speak it. It documents events that demonstrate social compliance and the fallout when such compliance is exploited for ill. The Nobel judges cited The Silent Cry as a key work in the imagined world Ōe created across his writing, 'where life and myth condense to form a disconcerting picture of the human predicament'. Although it was a difficult read at times, I loved it. show less

La acción de evocar es sin duda uno de los elementos centrales que perfilan lo que somos. Ligada a ilusiones perdidas o latentes, rodean cuanto tocamos, desde nuestras lecturas a los sueños que nos someten todas las noches. Es precisamente evocar el elemento principal desde dónde parte Oe en este sugerente título. El escritor japonés vierte sus dogmas vitales aquí, al son de sus cambiantes relecturas de Blake. Para Oe la vida es un constante volver atrás en el que comprender esto a show more través de la memoria y las experiencias nos define como seres humanos.
Eyore, su hijo con discapacidad intelectual, supone un reto, es fuente de dependencia y disrupción, es inocencia prístina e irradiadora de felicidad. Descubrir a Eyore y su capacidad o (in)capacidad de dar forma a sus experiencias alterará la percepción de personalidad de Oe, especialmente con los dos bellísimos "despertares" del entrañable adolescente que se suceden en sendos capítulos finales.
El relato puede adolecer de cierta fragmentariedad por sus características, con su subsiguiente descompensación en el ritmo. Ello no impide que esta no sea una magnífica introducción para adentrarse en el universo de Kenzaburo Oe. show less

I knew from early on this was a great book, but I also hated it, right up to the end. Then it redeemed itself. It a great story about a horrendous, damaged people, in a cold and severe culture, dealing with deep pain and helplessness. The only bits of lightheartedness were Oe's over-the-top poetic treatments of the most disgusting and awful things-- like vomiting, certain sex acts, and deformed babies-- so dark humor to be sure.

Oe's writing really does draw the reader into the show more distastefulness of the situation and the characters though. You feel dirty and immoral in Himiko's cave. You want to smack the doctors across the face. And you feel nothing for the mother or baby, who ought to be sympathetic characters. The book made me want to take a shower. Although I can't say I enjoyed reading this book I have to admire writing that powerful. All the more so since Oe himself is the father of a disabled son. I agree with the other reviewers who comment that the ending seems contrived and unbelievable, but I'm okay with that. I'm glad that corner was turned.

I don't know who to recommend this book to. It's a great novel, but painful to read. I imagine those who can handle it know who they are. 4 stars. show less

Death, grief, remorse, blame, impotence, anger, visions, myth-making, danger, self-annihilation, passion, compassion.

All in a mere 27 pages!

What a powerful long short-story this was. I've spent the last several days being haunted by it.

In the story, the narrator is a young man, 28 years old, telling a series of events when he was 18, hired to be a companion to an up-and-coming Japanese composer. His job is to once a week accompany the composer. "D," on walks around Tokyo, visiting sites as show more per D's pleasure. There had been a scandal involving D after the death of his first born child from which he has not emotionally recovered. Indeed, he has begun having hallucinations of the dead child, even having conversations. Ten years later, the narrator is recounting his experience with D, culminating in a shocking death.

Author Kenzaburō Ōe had a son born with a brain hernia, and like the character D, the doctors suggested to Ōe and his wife that they let the child die. Instead, they opted for surgery. Their son, Hikari Ōe, has grown up to be a chamber music composer of some fame but remains severely autistic, mostly mute. Author Ōe was awarded the Nobel prize in no small part in honor of his novel A Personal Matter which has the similar theme of a child born with extreme health challenges.

Another interesting parallel between this story and Ōe's real life is that he wrote this story when his son was only 6 months old who ultimately also became a composer like the protagonist in the story, mastering not spoken language but musical language. How oddly coincidental.

I am certain that there must be some losses in translation from not only the Japanese language but from the Japanese culture to an English-reading Westerner. Yet, it still shone and burned into my mind. It is direct in tone, feeling even somewhat flat, one could be easily deceived by that directness.

Its wow is the subtlety in which it covers the vast ground of the human condition.

Read with The Short Story Club group. You can join here: https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/1187035-the-short-story-club show less