As ponderous and repetitive as "Silence". This is the story of Gaston Bonaparte, a huge and ungainly fellow from Savoy who, for reasons unknown, arrives one day in Japan, apparently expecting his former pen-pal Takamori to put him up. Although flummoxed by Gaston's cheek, the spendthrift Takamori, his bossy sister Tomoe and their widowed mother do everything they can to welcome him with the customary Japanese hospitality. But in fact, Gaston has no intention of staying put with his hosts. Gentle and unworldly, Gaston, who is in every respect the opposite of his famous ancestor, starts by adopting a flea-riddled cur, and then insists on leaving his non-plussed hosts in the middle of the night. Various adventures with prostitutes and fortune-tellers follow. Eventually Gaston attaches himself to a graduate turned contract killer who is on a mission to execute officers responsible for his brother's death before he himself succumbs to tuberculosis. Takamori and Tomoe, who've grown to cherish and respect the odd Frenchman and feel responsible for him, try in vain to catch up with him as he shadows Endo (the thug) to prevent him from carrying out the murders he's planned. Of course, the siblings arrive too late: having prevailed on Endo at the last minute, Gaston is nowhere to be found. Takamori accepts that Endo's vision of an egret represents Gaston's temporary departure from this world. This is as heavy-handed as it gets. We learn at the very end of the book that Gaston came to Japan because, having failed his theological exams 3 times, he couldn't let go of his vocation as a missionary, but long before that it has become crashingly obvious that he is a new Christ. Your taste has to run to the turgidly allegorical to like this book, but it is just about possible that it would read a little better in a different translation. While there are many references in the story that would benefit from some clarification, this translator only adds footnotes for the obvious. For instance, in a self-explanatory discussion between a fishmonger and his customer, he tells us in a footnote that "sawara" is "a kind of fish". No kidding!