I can't believe I'm saying this, but, for once, I'm glad that I'm not an intellectual. Haruki Murakami wrote the introduction to Soseki's Sanshiro (note: I read the "new" translation by Jay Rubin, who should be well known to my fellow Murakami fans [Further to the side note! It felt good to be hearing again through Rubin's cover songs.]). I love Murakami in my greedy passion fashion. In 2004 I read every translated work at that time in a couple of months (followed closely by all yet translated Banana Yoshimoto). That said, I think he missed something important (to me). Nooooo, Murakami, how could you not get it?! "For me, Soseki's apparently most popular novel, Kokoro, left something to be desired, and while I did enjoy the late works, so widely praised for their psychological insight, I could never fully identify with the deep anguish of the modern intellectual depicted in them. "What's the point in going on and on about this?" I would often feel. In that sense, I'm probably a bit removed from the "mainstream" Soseki reader. Nooooooo. Okay, I loved Kokoro so very much because it isn't about the "deep anguish of the modern intellectual". It hurts just as much to be stupid. I don't know when I first started resenting the idea that stupid people were happy. It seems like it has been always. Jack Nicholson's truth is fucking far from this truth and I can't handle either of them. Babies need darkness but c'mon enough is enough. This really fucking sucks, actually. Kokoro is about a whole different kind of awareness and yearning. I kinda didn't want to read the rest of his introduction after he fucked up so royally on Kokoro. Kokoro, and Sanshiro is too, is about trying to sit close or further away in love, not intellect, and know enough to tell where that fire is in the first place. I'd say Kokoro is the fire and Sanshiro is more the knowing how the hell to find it. The mistrust didn't have anything to do with anguish of the modern intellectual. I did really like his introduction, other than that. I'm not too good at finding the cultural fires myself so I don't know if Murakami is right that Sanshiro is about how Japan never "grew up". Is it alright that I'll see myself in it instead? The anguish of the stupid... Wait, I was glad being all glad I wasn't an intellectual and stuff. I needed my love story of Kokoro. Intellectual words aren't gonna be the shovel to dig out or bury into the center of the earth. Sidelong looks, downcast eyes to the heavens and the grounds, blind spots... New ways of looking at things. At least things might look differently then. Is it possible to put it all into words and understand everything? And be HAPPY about it? (I kinda suspect we are all wily coyotes.) Weeell...
Sanshiro recalled how the man eating the peaches on the train had said to him, "You'd better watch out- life can be dangerous." For all his talk of danger, the man was annoyingly self-possessed. Perhaps one could be like that if he stood in a position so free of danger that he could afford to warn others against it. This might be a source of amusement for those men who, while part of the world, watched it from a place apart. Yes, for certain, the man was one of them. It was obvious from the way he ate those peaches, the way he sipped his tea and puffed on his cigarette, looking always straight ahead. The man was a critic. Sanshiro tried out the word "critic" with his unusual meaning, and he was pleased with himself. Indeed, he went so far as to wonder if he, too, should live as a critic some day.
When I was a kid I would bang my head on the wall when feeling frustrated. I kinda still know how little me felt. If I only had a brain... If I only had a heart! Go on and bang on it. See? All hollow. If I only had courage... Sanshiro's inner sore spot in his awareness (like mine is stupidity and miscommunication) is his lack of bravery. The side looks and checking before a step and before falls... Is there more that happened? Hell yes, I got his confusion.
Academics, she said, look at everything as objects of study, and so their emotions dry up. But if you look at things with feeling, you never want to study them because everything comes down to love or hate. Unfortunately, as a scientist, her brother could not help viewing her as an object of study, which was unkind of him, because the more he studied his sister, the more his love for her would decrease.
Sanshiro is a "coming of age" novel. I still don't know what that means. I've read a lot of them so far in 2011: Demian, Of Human Bondage, Confessions of a Mask... They did have things in common, actually. The young protaganists (students) would meet people who would speak great words that make sense and work very well as conversations, sometimes, rather than experience (stimulating conversations, though. Perfect for 3 am mental trains conversations). I'm thinking what I really want in my "coming of age" novels is a feeling that it isn't inevitable. Sanshiro does have this foriegn feeling inside of what could happen, the new ways of feeling, curtains lifted, all that stuff. The pain of being stupid and the sting of unrequited something because you can't know if what you feel is what they feel, if someone else is "just being nice", or playing with you. I remember back in the day in kiddie school when my classmates would scoff at the blatant stupidity of their ancestors: "They thought the world was flat?! *I* wouldn't have been so dumb." Emotions aren't science. You don't really walk the steps of those who came before you, at least not in parallel lines. What makes Soseki a particular genius in my eyes is that Sanshiro's confusion is balanced with the gradually moving world before his eyes (and sometimes it doesn't go anywhere after all, like the clouds he watches). He can't know if people are being fake. You decide to trust, you make comparisons based on experience. Sometimes it's as complex as overhearing a loved one talk shit about you and being able to still feel like they love you in spite of it all. It wouldn't have occured to him that people had it in them to be fake when he was living in more countrified company (although I find it hard to imagine any village without vipers). But his sky changes colors and there are big ass rain clouds over his head when it concerns a woman. It's not inevitable that anything is going to change. You know what else I really love about Soseki? One relationship is not the rest of the life. (Yes!) It's stretching out ages. More to come...
Screw the "coming of age" novel. It's unrequited love story again (these are my favorite, as I understand "unrequited love", anyway). The anguish of the stupid! We none of us are mind readers (unless we are writers like Soseki).
Tear away the pretty formalities and the bad is out in the open. Formalities are just a bother, so everyone economizes and makes do with the plain stuff. It's actually quite exhilarating- natural ugliness in all its glory. Of course, when there's too much glory, the hypervillains get a little annoyed with each other. When their discomfort reaches a peak, altruism is resurrected. And when that becomes a mere formality and turns sour, egoism comes back. And so on, ad infinitum. That's how we go on living, you might say. That's how we progress."
I haven't felt like reading anything but Japanese works translated into English (don't know Japanese. Communication tortures me). Why didn't I read Soseki in 2004? I have no idea. I was really dumb. I don't know enough to say why it is that I'm jonesing so bad now. Maybe it is the suicidal feeling as wanting to make up your mind one way or the other. I could just be reading books about that. I really want the foriegn feeling inside about the unrequited. How do you know when people are being fake? I want to feel that human shit isn't inevitable and the less it is "told" (like taken for granted similarities) the better. I wanna see for my own eyes and increase my scope to tell in spite of it all. I'd have liked Sanshiro even better if the teachers had talked a lot less but that's okay. I'll remember their talk in memory as if they were talking to me, maybe.
It was then that Sanshiro knew somewhere deep inside: this woman was too much for him. He felt, too, a vague sense of humiliation accompanying the awareness that he had been seen through.
P.s. Stray sheep. Stray sheep. The girls! Sanshiro is in love with Mineko. I keep throwing around the word "genius", which is kinda annoying. I'm just trying to say what I value in writing, really. I loved the mind reading glimpses into Mineko, how she seems to be mentally willing one of the men in her life to understand her. She thought that Sanshiro would remember an outfit she wore on a "memorable" day they shared [it was, for different reasons] and that she started being painted on a day because of it. If only he had recognized it that might have been physical proof to her... His not "getting it" was a different kind than hers. I felt like there were echoes waiting to be heard from her when she's with her men. Awesome.
P.s.s. Sanshiro sees "Cuckoo in the far-off heavens" written as a caption of a fellow student's art work. I liked that.
P.s.s.s. I know I picked on Murakami's take but now I'm feeling guilty because there aren't that many reviews of this book on goodreads. I should have made more real book sense.
To place the light and the thing that receives the light in a spatial relationship that cannot be found in the normal natural world is something only a romantic would do."