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The Sick Rose: A Pastoral Elegy
The shift in attitudes and concerns that took place in the Taisho period (1912-1926) was signaled by the emergence of a new and authentically contemporary Japanese sense of self. For many, Sato Haruo's novella Gloom in the Country marked that shift. Originally entitled The Sick Rose, this story has long been regarded as an icon of the period and is the masterpiece that made Sato instantly famous when it burst on the literary scene in 1918.
With this volume, Francis Tenny makes Gloom in the Country available in English for the first time, along with its sequel, Gloom in the City, and the compelling companion piece Okinu and Her Brother. Together these stories demonstrate the range of Sato's style and weave together a number of his the contrast between eternal nature and the finite person, the quest for aesthetic and spiritual balance, the lyric articulation of the interior life, the dislocation of the individual from nature and society. With sinuous linguistic grace, Sato's delineation of the modern sensibility draws from great works of Western literature and the classical traditions of Japan and China.
This trilogy thus forms a window into the heart of the Japanese individual, torn between dream and reality, between tradition and the modern world, between introspection and action. For its elegant depiction of the modern human condition, The Sick Rose will appeal to sensitive readers everywhere.
With this volume, Francis Tenny makes Gloom in the Country available in English for the first time, along with its sequel, Gloom in the City, and the compelling companion piece Okinu and Her Brother. Together these stories demonstrate the range of Sato's style and weave together a number of his the contrast between eternal nature and the finite person, the quest for aesthetic and spiritual balance, the lyric articulation of the interior life, the dislocation of the individual from nature and society. With sinuous linguistic grace, Sato's delineation of the modern sensibility draws from great works of Western literature and the classical traditions of Japan and China.
This trilogy thus forms a window into the heart of the Japanese individual, torn between dream and reality, between tradition and the modern world, between introspection and action. For its elegant depiction of the modern human condition, The Sick Rose will appeal to sensitive readers everywhere.
225 pages, Hardcover
First published December 1, 1993
96 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
October 3, 2024
I usually like japanese literature of this style and era and especially by authors who got lots of inspiration from the French poets (I luv Rimbaud) however I can not describe why but this just wasn’t for me ….
It wasn’t so much the traditional theme of furusato l, but rather the subtle references to foreign literature, particularly French influences, that made this more bearable .
The traces of Baudelaire and Rimbaud, two poets whose works I’ve read and admired, felt like a lifeline in a story that otherwise left me feeling disconnected.
The recurring motif of the roses, which decay despite the protagonist’s attempts to care for them, reminded me strongly of the existential themes often explored in French Symbolist literature, where the roses initially appear as symbols of beauty and potential renewal, yet they quickly fall prey to decay, mirroring the protagonist’s emotional deterioration. As someone who extensively studied and was influenced by French literature throughout his life, Sato would have been familiar with these themes. The phrase "Oh, Rose, thou art sick!" a line taken from William Blake’s poem The Sick Rose, is repeated throughout Gloom in the country like a haunting refrain, echoing the protagonist’s inner collapse. The roses, as the story unfolds, become more than just a literal presence in the garden. They symbolise the inescapable rot that consumes both the protagonist’s hopes and his sense of self. “There were only leaves. They were eaten by insects, every one.” The natural decay becomes emblematic of something deeper, reflecting the distress in French Symbolist works such as Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du ma (which can be translated into The Flowers of Evil, but is most well known by its French title), which famously juxtaposes the beauty of flowers with the darkness of human experience.
The roses stood out to me a lot in this story as I recognised that roses are not a traditional symbol in Japanese literature. Cherry blossoms and other native flora like peach flowers and spider lilies have long been used to represent impermanence and beauty. In my understanding, and as mentioned before, in French literature, a rose speaks to both beauty and corruption. Baudelaire, for instance, often used flowers to contrast sensuality with decay, a theme that The Sick Rose picks up on and intensifies through the protagonist’s repeated failures to nurture life in his garden. The roses here are not just physical symbols; they reflect the deeper existential crisis at the centre of the narrative. This is something I recall vividly from my reading of Rimbaud’s A Season in Hell (Une saison en enfer), where floral imagery is used to illustrate innocence tainted by experience, a tension that feels very much alive in Sato’s withering roses. Furthermore, in Rimbuad’s poem The Stolen Heart (Le Coeur volé) the flowers’ violent loss of innocence echoes the tension between beauty and corruption that we see in Sato’s withering roses, as the protagonist is forced to confront the decay of both his external world and his internal emotional landscape. The roses, with their "wrinkled petals... crumbled as they bloomed," symbolise the protagonist’s failed attempts to hold on to beauty and innocence in a world that offers nothing but disillusionment. The line from Blake’s poem, "Oh, Rose, thou art sick!" becomes not just a statement about the physical state of the flowers but also a commentary on the protagonist’s own internal decay.
I kept returning to this sense of dislocation, both emotional and societal, that pervades the text. The protagonist’s desire to escape the city for the countryside is initially framed as a search for peace, a longing for a simpler, more meaningful life. Yet the countryside, rather than offering solace, quickly becomes a new site of frustration and alienation. The lines, "In the country, in the city, nowhere was there a paradise that could give him peace on earth. There was nothing." “Is it my youthful retirement in the country, where I hunger for humanity?” perfectly encapsulates this existential dilemma. His yearning for furusato, a return to an idealised home, becomes less about a literal place and more about an unattainable state of mind. The roses, decaying under his care, seem to embody the futility of his search for meaning in both the rural and urban landscapes.
This theme of existential despair is something I’ve encountered before in my readings of Goethe, known to be used in literary terms of reference by Sato in his works. In Goethe’s Faust, for instance, the protagonist’s relentless striving for fulfilment mirrors Sato’s character’s search for peace. Both are ultimately left let down, trapped by their own desires. Sato’s protagonist, much like Faust, discovers that no earthly paradise, whether found in the city or the countryside, can satisfy the depth of his longing. The garden and the roses play a similar role, symbolising the protagonist’s mental decline as he becomes more fixated on the inevitability of decay.
What fascinates me most about Sato’s use of Western literary influences is how seamlessly he weaves them into a distinctly Japanese context. The yearning for furusato feels deeply rooted in Japanese literature, yet the way this theme is explored through the decaying roses and the protagonist’s existential crisis connects it to broader, more universal concerns about modernity and alienation. Much like Tanizaki’s exploration of the tension between tradition and modernity in Naomi, Sato’s The Sick Rose reflects the struggles of a generation caught between two worlds. The roses, which decay despite the protagonist’s care, become symbols of this broader societal decay, reflecting the disillusionment that comes with modern life.
Sickness, both emotional and societal, is a central theme. The protagonist’s failure to cultivate the roses mirrors his growing awareness of his own emotional disintegration. His reflection that "there was nothing", whether in the city or the countryside, captures the existential despair that underpins the entire story. This is a theme I’ve seen explored in other works of Japanese literature as well, particularly in Sōseki’s Kokoro, where the protagonist’s emotional isolation is similarly framed as a response to the disorienting forces of modernity. In The Sick Rose, this isolation is heightened by the protagonist’s fixation on the decaying garden, which serves as a constant reminder of his inability to find meaning or solace in his surroundings.
Sato’s use of sickness as a symbol of emotional and societal decay is also reminiscent of the sense of moral and physical collapse found in Akutagawa’s Rashōmon, where societal breakdown is reflected in the ethical decay of the characters and the physical collapse of the city’s ruins. In both stories, the disintegration of the physical environment becomes a metaphor for the disintegration of the self.
“You fool. I'm crying like a poet for good feelings. Over the flower?”
The roses, perhaps, are not just symbols of personal decay but also reflections of the broader societal disillusionment that characterised Japan during the Taishō period. The story’s bleak tone, its focus on decay and dislocation, and its exploration of existential despair all point to a larger cultural shift, a moment when traditional values were being eroded by the forces of Westernisation and industrialisation. The protagonist’s yearning for furusato becomes, in this sense, a metaphor for a collective longing for stability in a world that no longer offers it.
By blending these Western literary influences with distinctly Japanese themes, Sato creates a narrative that is both deeply personal and broad. Despite my personal struggles with the story’s pacing and structure, I found its engagement with Western literature, particularly French Symbolism, to be an interesting feature. The roses, with all their symbolic weight, become the perfect metaphor for the emotional and existential crisis.
It wasn’t so much the traditional theme of furusato l, but rather the subtle references to foreign literature, particularly French influences, that made this more bearable .
The traces of Baudelaire and Rimbaud, two poets whose works I’ve read and admired, felt like a lifeline in a story that otherwise left me feeling disconnected.
The recurring motif of the roses, which decay despite the protagonist’s attempts to care for them, reminded me strongly of the existential themes often explored in French Symbolist literature, where the roses initially appear as symbols of beauty and potential renewal, yet they quickly fall prey to decay, mirroring the protagonist’s emotional deterioration. As someone who extensively studied and was influenced by French literature throughout his life, Sato would have been familiar with these themes. The phrase "Oh, Rose, thou art sick!" a line taken from William Blake’s poem The Sick Rose, is repeated throughout Gloom in the country like a haunting refrain, echoing the protagonist’s inner collapse. The roses, as the story unfolds, become more than just a literal presence in the garden. They symbolise the inescapable rot that consumes both the protagonist’s hopes and his sense of self. “There were only leaves. They were eaten by insects, every one.” The natural decay becomes emblematic of something deeper, reflecting the distress in French Symbolist works such as Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du ma (which can be translated into The Flowers of Evil, but is most well known by its French title), which famously juxtaposes the beauty of flowers with the darkness of human experience.
The roses stood out to me a lot in this story as I recognised that roses are not a traditional symbol in Japanese literature. Cherry blossoms and other native flora like peach flowers and spider lilies have long been used to represent impermanence and beauty. In my understanding, and as mentioned before, in French literature, a rose speaks to both beauty and corruption. Baudelaire, for instance, often used flowers to contrast sensuality with decay, a theme that The Sick Rose picks up on and intensifies through the protagonist’s repeated failures to nurture life in his garden. The roses here are not just physical symbols; they reflect the deeper existential crisis at the centre of the narrative. This is something I recall vividly from my reading of Rimbaud’s A Season in Hell (Une saison en enfer), where floral imagery is used to illustrate innocence tainted by experience, a tension that feels very much alive in Sato’s withering roses. Furthermore, in Rimbuad’s poem The Stolen Heart (Le Coeur volé) the flowers’ violent loss of innocence echoes the tension between beauty and corruption that we see in Sato’s withering roses, as the protagonist is forced to confront the decay of both his external world and his internal emotional landscape. The roses, with their "wrinkled petals... crumbled as they bloomed," symbolise the protagonist’s failed attempts to hold on to beauty and innocence in a world that offers nothing but disillusionment. The line from Blake’s poem, "Oh, Rose, thou art sick!" becomes not just a statement about the physical state of the flowers but also a commentary on the protagonist’s own internal decay.
I kept returning to this sense of dislocation, both emotional and societal, that pervades the text. The protagonist’s desire to escape the city for the countryside is initially framed as a search for peace, a longing for a simpler, more meaningful life. Yet the countryside, rather than offering solace, quickly becomes a new site of frustration and alienation. The lines, "In the country, in the city, nowhere was there a paradise that could give him peace on earth. There was nothing." “Is it my youthful retirement in the country, where I hunger for humanity?” perfectly encapsulates this existential dilemma. His yearning for furusato, a return to an idealised home, becomes less about a literal place and more about an unattainable state of mind. The roses, decaying under his care, seem to embody the futility of his search for meaning in both the rural and urban landscapes.
This theme of existential despair is something I’ve encountered before in my readings of Goethe, known to be used in literary terms of reference by Sato in his works. In Goethe’s Faust, for instance, the protagonist’s relentless striving for fulfilment mirrors Sato’s character’s search for peace. Both are ultimately left let down, trapped by their own desires. Sato’s protagonist, much like Faust, discovers that no earthly paradise, whether found in the city or the countryside, can satisfy the depth of his longing. The garden and the roses play a similar role, symbolising the protagonist’s mental decline as he becomes more fixated on the inevitability of decay.
What fascinates me most about Sato’s use of Western literary influences is how seamlessly he weaves them into a distinctly Japanese context. The yearning for furusato feels deeply rooted in Japanese literature, yet the way this theme is explored through the decaying roses and the protagonist’s existential crisis connects it to broader, more universal concerns about modernity and alienation. Much like Tanizaki’s exploration of the tension between tradition and modernity in Naomi, Sato’s The Sick Rose reflects the struggles of a generation caught between two worlds. The roses, which decay despite the protagonist’s care, become symbols of this broader societal decay, reflecting the disillusionment that comes with modern life.
Sickness, both emotional and societal, is a central theme. The protagonist’s failure to cultivate the roses mirrors his growing awareness of his own emotional disintegration. His reflection that "there was nothing", whether in the city or the countryside, captures the existential despair that underpins the entire story. This is a theme I’ve seen explored in other works of Japanese literature as well, particularly in Sōseki’s Kokoro, where the protagonist’s emotional isolation is similarly framed as a response to the disorienting forces of modernity. In The Sick Rose, this isolation is heightened by the protagonist’s fixation on the decaying garden, which serves as a constant reminder of his inability to find meaning or solace in his surroundings.
Sato’s use of sickness as a symbol of emotional and societal decay is also reminiscent of the sense of moral and physical collapse found in Akutagawa’s Rashōmon, where societal breakdown is reflected in the ethical decay of the characters and the physical collapse of the city’s ruins. In both stories, the disintegration of the physical environment becomes a metaphor for the disintegration of the self.
“You fool. I'm crying like a poet for good feelings. Over the flower?”
The roses, perhaps, are not just symbols of personal decay but also reflections of the broader societal disillusionment that characterised Japan during the Taishō period. The story’s bleak tone, its focus on decay and dislocation, and its exploration of existential despair all point to a larger cultural shift, a moment when traditional values were being eroded by the forces of Westernisation and industrialisation. The protagonist’s yearning for furusato becomes, in this sense, a metaphor for a collective longing for stability in a world that no longer offers it.
By blending these Western literary influences with distinctly Japanese themes, Sato creates a narrative that is both deeply personal and broad. Despite my personal struggles with the story’s pacing and structure, I found its engagement with Western literature, particularly French Symbolism, to be an interesting feature. The roses, with all their symbolic weight, become the perfect metaphor for the emotional and existential crisis.
November 12, 2024
I only read the first story The Sick Rose.
Beautiful prose yet very depressing read.
3.5
Beautiful prose yet very depressing read.
3.5
July 14, 2012
Sato's writing is not for everyone. If I say it is peripatetic, I am being kind. His protagonist (well, I'll say it is Sato himself) has a short attention span, but at least he keeps it wandering over the same few things. When you enter Sato's world, you're there for a while and although you may get impatient to have something actually happening, his is a world that rewards you sticking with him. Plus, he has two dogs that I am glad I don't have, but I certainly enjoy reading about their exploits.
Read
January 15, 2018i found this harder to read than anything i have in a long long time, just because the depression in it is so so thick and unbearable, there are only the tiniest moments of transcendence into beauty/connection but this mainly centres on the environment and it is fleeting... meanwhile, the protagonist continues to be a dick to his wife and other fellow humans, assuming the worst of them and giving them nothing of himself
May 11, 2024
Three gloomy stories; a lonely failed writer in a lonely country-house in a lonely village outside of Tokyo; then again, lonely in the city. Gloom in the country; gloom in the city. Gloom—a romantic word to describe one’s isolation, passivity, and hopelessness.
From the introduction: “the protagonist-narrator has retired from the world and so observes society, and himself, with a detachment linked on occasion to a kind of lyrical melancholy. That melancholy, it might be argued, is closely tied to a sense of Buddhist pessimism over the state of the mundane world…”
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
— William Blake
From the introduction: “the protagonist-narrator has retired from the world and so observes society, and himself, with a detachment linked on occasion to a kind of lyrical melancholy. That melancholy, it might be argued, is closely tied to a sense of Buddhist pessimism over the state of the mundane world…”
O Rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
— William Blake
June 5, 2023
Excellent gloomy stories that pierce deep into the dissatisfied psychology of the narrator, who appears to be a thinly veiled version of the author himself (in whom I likewise saw much of myself).
Nothing much happens, but that, in this case, is its strength, for the author that can write about everyday events in an interesting and meaningful way is the kind I prefer to read, instead of the kind that writes about a bunch of meaningless made up nonsense, or in other words the vast majority of the writers out there.
Why the book is so obscure, I do not know (presumably the author is more popular in Japan), as it goes together well with other bleak Japanese classics such as No Longer Human and A Personal Matter.
Nothing much happens, but that, in this case, is its strength, for the author that can write about everyday events in an interesting and meaningful way is the kind I prefer to read, instead of the kind that writes about a bunch of meaningless made up nonsense, or in other words the vast majority of the writers out there.
Why the book is so obscure, I do not know (presumably the author is more popular in Japan), as it goes together well with other bleak Japanese classics such as No Longer Human and A Personal Matter.
August 10, 2024
The first story is very good, the second and third are fine. Francis Tenny's translation is rough the whole way through.
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews