O viata linistita

by Kenzaburō Ōe

Un roman introspectiv, incarcat de elemente autobiografice, in care ni se istoriseste viata unui scriitor si a familiei sale, si redescoperirea locului lor in structura lumii. Alcatuit sub forma unui jurnal, romanul ne prezinta perspectiva lui Ma-Chan, fiica unui scriitor celebru, al carui nume este tinut ascuns, referirile la el limitandu-se la initiala K. Scriitorul trebuie sa mearga in California, pentru a colabora cu o universitate, iar fiica ramane sa aiba grija de fratele ei, la fel de faimos ca si tatal, un personaj suferind de retard si totusi dovedind genialitate, compunand muzica clasica. Fratele, care manifesta crize severe, violente, episoade de trezire a constientei sexuale, este catalizatorul intregii carti, elementul in jurul caruia se desfasoara cursul evenimentelor, ce tind catre un final imprevizibil.

Genres: Fiction, Japan, Japanese Literature, Novels, Literary Fiction, Literature, Nobel Prize

218 pages, Paperback

First published October 25, 1990

About the author

Kenzaburō Ōe (大江 健三郎) was a major figure in contemporary Japanese literature. His works, strongly influenced by French and American literature and literary theory, engages with political, social and philosophical issues including nuclear weapons, social non-conformism and existentialism.

Ōe was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1994 for creating "an imagined world, where life and myth condense to form a disconcerting picture of the human predicament today."

Reviews

[Luís · Rating 3 out of 5]

A story, newspaper, and daily chronicle of Ma, a young student to whom her parents left the youngest of the family, who is also studying Eoyore, the older, disabled brother, and subject to epilepsy, to go for a few months to California. Their existence is, therefore, anything but peaceful because, despite the immense love that Eoyore and I-ah, who protect themselves in turn, find everyday life difficult. The gaze cast by people on Eoyore is often cruel, and he has a hard time enduring it—lots of autobiographical elements in this story. The existence of Kenzaburô Öé was upset by the birth of a mentally disabled boy in 1964. The Father who flees to California is called K; he is in a severe crisis. Ôé wonders about his cowardice.
There is little intrigue, and the story is disjointed. Many cinematographic or literary digressions (Ende, Céline, Tarkovsky) make reading sometimes tricky.

[Teresa · Rating 2 out of 5]

Não é de bom agouro o primeiro livro do ano ser uma desistência, mas como a percentagem de superstição com que fui abençoada é igual a zero, estou descansada.

[Tessa Nadir · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Un nou varf al fictiunii japoneze postbelice" - spunea despre acest roman Yukio Mishima.
Autorul a primit premiul Nobel in 1994, spre nemultumirea mea, deoarece o multime de autori japonezi au premiul Nobel, numai cel mai merituos dupa parerea mea, Mishima, nu are.
"Shizuka na seikatsu" este incarcat cu elemente autobiografice, fiind despre viata unui scriitor al carui nume nu este dezvaluit cititorului. Jurnalul fetei sale, Ma-Chan face referire la tatal sau prin folosirea initialei "K".
Atunci cand se iveste ocazia sa sustina niste seminarii in America scriitorul decide sa plece peste ocean impreuna cu sotia sa, lasand-o pe Ma-Chan sa aiba grija singura de fratele ei care sufera de o forma de alienare mintala. In ciuda acestui neajuns, Eeyore are un comportament agreabil si un caracter frumos, fiind un geniu. Inzestrat cu mult talent, el este capabil sa transpuna trairile sale in compozitii de muzica clasica.
Romanul este autobiografic, deoarece insusi autorul s-a confruntat cu aceasta situatie medicala, avand un asemenea copil ca Eeyore, astfel ca naratiunea are o tenta foarte realista. Cartea ne indeamna sa inconjuram acesti copii cu dragoste, sa ne bucuram de ei, in ciuda efortului, a dificultatilor si a atentiei permanente de care au nevoie. Viata parintilor acestor copii este diferita de cea a familiilor obisnuite si trebuie inteleasa si respectata lupta lor zilnica cu boala, in loc sa fie judecati, stigmatizati sau exclusi.
Nu mi-a placut faptul ca romanul, sau cel putin traducerea sa, foloseste termenii de "retardat" si "handicapat" si consider ca o exprimare mai eleganta ar fi fost de preferat. O exprimare nepotrivita poate strica mesajul si intentia artistica si in acest sens as face o mica paranteza legata de o experienta recenta de-a mea. In timpul spectacolului din opera "Tosca", Scarpia, in patima interpretarii a lovit-o pe protagonista pe spate si a dat apoi cu piciorul in trena rochiei sale. Gestul mi s-a parut grosolan si total nepotrivit pentru epoca respectiva stricand pentru mine toata bucuria acelei interpretari.
Romanul este interesant si face multe referiri la Brahms, Bach, Beethoven, filmul Stalker al lui Tarkovski iar in final am retinut niste versuri ale lui Yeats din "Raging in the dark":
"Ratiunea omului trebuie sa aleaga
intre perfectiunea vietii sau a operei
si daca o alege pe a doua
trebuie sa renunte la un loc in cer
si nu-i ramane decat sa strige in intuneric."

[Smiley · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is another novel written based on his traumatic experience regarding his son born with his brain damage, however, he has applied this motif from his son's disability into some of his works, for instance, "A Personal Matter". A reason is that, I think, he might write as such to convey a personal message to the world, especially those reading his novels, that his family and himself still look at the bright side in terms of his son as a human being who has since strived on living and excelled in music and this is rare for readers to read such sad stories on defective children; moreover, I've read somewhere it's said those who can see others' good points acquire wisdom. In retrospect, it's no use weeping with bitter sorrow when one faces such a crisis since they need compassion and action taken from their 'wise' parents. Therefore, Kenzaburo Oe rightly deserves our praise and admiration for his unique wisdom that has transformed his crisis into literary opportunity, that is, this novel to the world to read and understand his plight with which he has long learned to cope and been since admired by the Nobel committee and his fans.

Narrated by Ma-chan, a twenty-year-old daughter of a famous novelist "invited to be a writer-in-residence at a university in California" (p. 1) with Mother who has to accompany him, this novel is a bit different from "A Personal Matter" in which the key protagonist 'Bird' struggles between his life vs. dream which is "shattered when his wife gives birth to a brain-damaged child" (back cover). Moreover, she has an older brother named Eeyore and younger one O-chan with different personalities and capabilities; Eeyore tries to cope with his disability by studying music and learning assiduously to communicate with Ma-chan and others while O-chan studies at a cram school for his university entrance exam.

In the meantime, some readers may lose interest on this novel due to its seemingly similiar theme; however, it is obviously different from 'Bird' because, as I mentioned above, this is by a female narrator who needs to redefine the complexities because she finds "herself suddenly the head of the household and at the center of family relationships" (back cover) and you can see her errands and responsibilities are tough, in other words, she needs to be alert, wise and action taken if need be. I particularly liked the episode on molestation that she, by chance, has come across, and this is how she reacts and takes part in arresting the culprit by finding tough volunteers to join forces:

... I raised myself off the saddle, lowered my head and quickly pumped the pedals, just like the scout in a game we played when I was a child. Then I raced past the scuffling pair while loudly ringing the bell. Going past them, I caught, out of the corner of my eye, a glimpse of the man in the raincoat glaring at me with his brown-dot-eyes.
...
I furiously shook my head, so mortified I could have burst into a fearful wail. Then I caught sight of a woman, who appeared to be in her mid-thirties, looking down from the second-story window in her boxlike house, which had been built on one of the lots the owner of the mansion beyond the unkempt hedge had divided off and sold.
"Hey!" I hollered. "Please help!" ... (p. 22)

Another thing I liked is how Eeyore possibly reacts, more than once, by his own sense of humor and this proves his intellect despite his disability, we may say this is a miracle and while reading we can't help praying to bless him so that he can live happily and contributively as best as he can, as you can see from the following excerpts:

... While the screen still showed the child's face, Eeyore, who was lying at my feet, flat on the carpet, as usual, raised his body and heaved a sighlike "Hoh!?" In the earlier half of the scene, a dog had become frightened when it sensed the eerie strength --- ... --- of the child's eyes, and perhaps Eeyore had reacted to its whining, for more than anything he hates dogs that yelp. ... (p. 77)
"... First, about the term 'stalker'. Just as I thought, it's straight from the English 'stalker'. It's just spelled in Russian. This is how it appears on the screen." He printed CTAIIKEP on a piece of paper for me. "Ho!" Eeyore breathed out in utter amazement at a printed letter with an unusual form. ... (p. 88)
etc.

[Noah · Rating 4 out of 5]

Es beschleicht einen durchgehend das ungute Gefühl, dass Kenzaburo Oe ein extrem unangenehmer Zeitgenosse ist, der alle Personen aus seinem Umfeld und seien es flüchtige Begegnungen für seine Fiktion instrumentalisiert, wobei für Dritte nicht erkennbar ist, was real und was Fiktion ist. Hier treibt es Oe auf die Spitze und lässt seine Tochter (real) einen (fiktiven?) Vergewaltigungsversuch durch einen (nicht erkennbar ob real oder fiktiven) Mann, der der Schimmlehrer seines (realen) Sohnes ist und der von Oe in einem anderen Roman (als reale oder fiktive Person?) bloßgestellt wurde. Eine extreme Nabelschau, sehr zum Fremdschämen aber auch Oe vom Feinsten.

[Emily · Rating 4 out of 5]

In a piece of remarkable serendipity, I happened upon A Quiet Life at Powell's just after reading Claire's post about the authors she planned to read for the Japanese Literature Challenge. Knowing the lady has taste, I picked it up and started reading. I got through the first chapter in the store, bought it, came home and devoured the rest of it over the course of three days, letting it eclipse any other reading I might have been doing. I've been reading a lot of the bizarre and macabre lately, and the understated, minimally-drawn yet intimate realism of A Quiet Life felt like exactly the contrast I needed at this moment in time. It's always such a gift to happen upon something so precisely calculated to resonate with my mood at a particular juncture, and when it happens I always try to welcome it with open arms.

Two things really made this book for me: the quality of the writing, and my warm liking for the main character, Ma-chan. The plot, which is apparently an artful mixture of fiction and autobiography, concerns the three adult children of a famous Japanese author, K, who retreats to a temporary post at UC-Berkeley to deal with one of his recurring existential crises (which he calls "pinches.") His wife accompanies him, leaving the three kids, the eldest of whom (Eeyore) is brain-damaged, to fend for themselves. They are all making their ways through that liminal space between adolescence and adulthood, and the quietly-narrated events of the year or so in which they live alone in their parents' house serve to deliver them a bit closer to realizing who they are as human beings.

I've seen several reviews that claim this book is essentially written from Oe's (or K's) own perspective, and only "ostensibly" narrated by his daughter, Ma-chan, who is used as something like a smokescreen. I didn't find this to be the case at all. Ma-chan, for me, is vividly her own person, and I feel a great deal of wamth and tenderness toward her. It's been a while since I've read a book whose main character I flat-out liked as much as I like Ma-chan. She's struggling with all the universal difficulties of being 20 and figuring out what kind of adult she's going to be, and, as a young Japanese woman, she's been socialized in the importance of filial piety, respect for her elders, and some degree of submissiveness. These things are genuinely important to her; she's no cultural revolutionary. At the same time, there is a core of confidence and vehemence to her that coexists with her diffidence. She is honest with herself about her growing consciousness of faults in her parents, particularly her father, and of the feelings those faults arouse in her. She sees herself as "a coward" in social situations, yet she finds the courage to do a wide variety of scary things - call attention to an assault on a young girl, care for her brother, write her college thesis on a writer everyone says she is too female and inexperienced to understand. When she encounters attitudes and actions that she doesn't like, she may not say anything out loud, but her inner refrain of "Hell no! Hell no!" articulates her strong selfhood.

As a side-note: Ma-chan is writing her undergraduate thesis on Céline, who she was inspired to read after meeting Kurt Vonnegut (K.V. in the novel) and having him autograph a volume of Céline's work for which Vonnegut had written the introduction. Coincidentally, I also came to Céline's first through Vonnegut. I think this must be pretty common for American readers who read Céline at all - after all, Vonnegut is extremely popular, and praises the French writer in one of his most famous books, Cat's Cradle - but it was yet another endearing connection with Ma-chan.

Above all, I love Ma-chan's thoughtful intelligence. Not only does she cultivate a loving and observant relationship with Eeyore, but she thinks deeply about the ways in which people interact with the mentally handicapped. She and her siblings (and their parents) live a rich life of the mind, conversing about films, novels, and philosophy in a way that is real and profound without ever seeming ostentatious. Despite the difficulties in Ma-chan's relationship with her father, I felt so tenderly toward them both for the way they respect each other's intelligence and do their best to help each other along their diverging paths.

I don't have the ability to comment on French style, but with Céline, I get the impression that he writes in a way that, contrary to what I had imagined, presents a serious subject in a light and straightforward manner - and I like this. I had copied this passage on one of my cards a few days before, and was translating it far into the night, when I realized Father was standing beside me, having snuck up without my noticing - which is another reason this passage, in particular, remains in my heart. Father doesn't dare touch my letters, but he readily picks up the books I read, or the reference cards I make, and looks at them. He does this all the time, and it has irritated me since I was in kindergarten. And that night, while I was copying down some more passages from the book, he picked up a few of the cards and said, "Hmm ... 'the old have nothing more to hope for, these kids, all ...' How true." His voice was so unusually earnest and sad that I couldn't make a face at him for having read my cards without asking me.


The next day, however, Father brought me volumes one and two of Céline's Novels, from the shelf of the Pléide editions he especially treasures...

One of the things that struck me about A Quiet Life was how enigmatic the supposedly autobiographical character - the novelist/father K - is to all the other characters. Wherever Ma-chan and Eeyore go, people are speculating about the cause of K's "pinch." His old friend Mr. Shigeto thinks that K is having some kind of religious crisis - that his all-or-nothing "lack of faith" (K perceives a necessity for sacrificing all worldly entanglements in order to be a "person of faith," and he has chosen instead a family and material success), is throwing him into a metaphysical quandary. Ma-chan's aunt, with whom the main characters converse while attending K's brother's funeral, theorizes that K was frightened by the looming reality of his brother's death, and ran away to California in order to avoid dealing with end-of-life issues. Ma-chan herself wonders whether her parents have retreated to the United States in order to repair damage done to their relationship over the years - damage partly caused by K's attitude toward Eeyore. Ma-chan's mother suggests that K's "pinch" may be caused by his feelings of inferiority and failure as family patriarch, which were touched off when he was forced to call a professional plumber to sort out a sewage problem.

In the midst of all this theorizing, K himself comes almost to resemble a blank canvas, onto whom each character projects their own interpretation of his actions. Even his name, K, while possibly short for "Kenzaburo," is also familiar to Kafka fans as the shorthand for "everyman." I wondered whether this blankness was a comment on the traditional, patriarchal family structure, in which the father is supposed to be removed and inscrutable, and is therefore left without any confidantes. It also occurred to me that the reduction of palpable selfhood in K, which allows all the other characters to project their own theories onto him, is a good approximation of severe depression, in which the sufferer often feels less and less "like himself" the longer the malady continues. Compared with this sliding into a lack of self, Ma-chan's refrain of "Hell no! Hell no!" seems even more remarkable, as does Mrs. Shigeto's insistence on standing up for the basic human dignity of oneself and all the other so-called "nobodies" with whom one lives:

"Ma-chan," she said, "the little relief I find in what you told me, if I can call it that, is that you apologized for Eeyore before the girl called you dropouts and not afterwards. I wouldn't have gone so far as to slap her in the face, but if I'd been there, I would at least have made her take it back. I wish you had. It's very important for a human being to take such action."

I strongly recommend this understated story of figuring out what actions are important for human beings to take. A big thanks to Claire for putting me on Oe's track; I anticipate enjoying more of his novels in the future.

[Jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

I had a lot of trouble assigning a rating to this book. On the one hand, I have not read other books by this (very famous) author, so I had a hard time sorting out what was his style, what was deliberately done to portray the voices of his his characters, what was odd or unfamiliar to me because it was culturally Japanese, and what was an artifact of of reading something that has been translated from Japanese into English. So I'm not sure what to make of my recurring sense that the characters discussed personal motivations and other peoples' thoughts and actions in ways that I found stilted and hard to believe. On the other hand, I was absolutely entranced with the central characters of Ma-chan, the sister, and Eeyore, the brother with disabilities, and with her insights and their relationship. And, I finished the book, which, these days, is a big "thumbs up" coming from me.

[David · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was a little disappointed. "The Day He Himself Shall Wipe My Tears Away" was a 1972 rewrite of 1969's "Teach Us to Outgrow Our Madness", and here we have "A Quiet Life", 1990's rewrite of 1983's "Rouse Up O Young Men of the New Age!"

I preferred the original. "A Quiet Life" is not narrated by a fictional Kenzaburo Oe but by a fictional Kenzaburo Oe's daughter. The fictional Kenzaburo Oe is enduring a "pinch" and has left for California. His wife, feeling that she must, has gone with him. Ma-chan has been left in charge of the brothers.

Now, for veracity, I don't think Kenzaburo Oe lets his fictional daughter be as profound or as interesting as the fictional Kenzaburo Oe we met in "Rouse Up ...". Which is a shame. A good example of this is the treatment of the erections Eeyore springs when his nappy is changed at night. This experience disturbs "Rouse Up ...'s" fictional Kenzaburo Oe. He then dreams that a sexual Eeyore appears as the monster from William Blake's "The Ghost of a Flea", confronting his father in the family kitchen with a post-ejaculation hard-on. From this experience, fictional Kenzaburo Oe thinks about his son's dreams, whether he can dream, and if he can't, how he, as his father, could try to ensure that his boy's first dream would be a good one. Interesting stuff, huh?

But in "A Quiet Life", where Ma-chan changes the diapers and discovers the hard-ons, we learn that she copes quite well. She's a quiet person, struggling on. And then the boy seems to stop having erections anyway.

Wasn't it more fun with William Blake and scary dreams?

"A Quiet Life's" Ma-chan does have some interests that influence the way she thinks about their life. The Russian arthouse sci-fi "Stalker" (which is based on Roadside Picnic) and the work of Louis-Ferdinand Céline (Ma-chan remembers meeting Kurt Vonnegut, whose foreword appears in some editions of Journey to the End of the Night).

But with all of the William Blake in the earlier version and with Kenzaburo allowing himself to go nuts, I found "Rouse Up..." more enjoyable and touching.

Also ... I'm not convinced that in any universe the people who know Kenzaburo Oe talk about him as much as they do in this book. He or Eeyore were all anyone ever spoke about. It was good that lots of the characters were saying "Fictional Kenzaburo Oe really needs to man-up and stop abandoning his family." But it would also have been nice if someone had said "Can we have ten minutes where no one talks about fictional Kenzaburo Oe, please?"

The swimming pool: the fit young men in "Rouse Up ..." were from Yukio Mishima's Tatenokai. In "A Quiet Life", a fit young man at the swimming pool, aspects of whose life (something about a love murder on a cruiseship?) fictional Kenzaburo Oe has included in an earlier novel, tries to attack Ma-chan! Is there a crossover? I wish someone would write an English language biography of Kenzaburo Oe!

Some music: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l4e3pI...

[Tsung · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a mixed bag from Japan’s second recipient of the Nobel Prize in Literature. Unevenly written, there were high points and low points. Some segments were so heartfelt and authentic that they immediately resonated with me. On the other hand, there were segments which just washed over me, especially when he discussed Tarkovsky’s movie Stalker and the works of Louis Ferdinand Celine.

The first thing which I observed early on was that the writing style seemed more Western than Japanese. The stories were told in the first person. There was no major plot, rather the novel was a series of vignettes. The episodes were generally quirky and quaint. The characters were not complicated and seemed pretty real.

The story centres upon Eeyore, K-chan’s eldest son, who was born with part of his brain developing outside his skull. He has features of autism and cannot manage on his own. I admire his parents’ courage in raising him, when there was a lot of pressure around them to abandon him. Yet for most of the book, his parents do the unthinkable. They go to the US, leaving his sister, M-chan to look after him. So the story is told from the perspective of M-chan. Perhaps this unique perspective is K-chan’s expression of guilt for pursuing an academic career overseas while leaving a huge burden on his daughter. She does get help from the precocious, youngest brother, O-chan, and from the seasoned and avuncular Shigetos.

Certain events were real, like Hikari Oe (Eeyore) composing music and Kenzaburo interviewing Kurt Vonnegut. But it was challenging to distinguish reality from fiction. Did K-chan really abandon his children? Did Eeyore really save his sister from an attempted rape? Was this all an idealized image of Eeyore (compared to the real world Hikari) and what he could do?

Euphemisms seemed to be the norm. K-chan’s “pinch” perhaps meant stress, anxiety or depression. M-chan’s “robotized” meant depersonalization. Even the title of Eeyore’s composition “sutego” (abandoned child) sparked off different reactions. M-chan also has recurrent dreams which undergo the Freudian treatment.

The title A Quiet Life is suggested by Eeyore. If the extraordinary events in the book were true, it would be anything but quiet.

[Holly · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this book like I read Gilead - by digesting one perfect sentence at a time. Kenzaburo Oe is so honest to me - I can't really describe him. He is so bare and authentic and I feel like I'm in someone's mind rather than in a story when I read his books. I love how his real life is smudged into his books and I love, LOVE that he is always studying Blake in his books! I love Ma-Chan - especially that she is a "slow thinker" like me. One of my favorite parts is when she and her brother watch Tarkovksy's "Stalker" on TV and try to figure out what the heck is going on. I Love Oe!

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 4 out of 5]

Originally published in Japanese in 1990, and translated into English in 1996, by Kunioki Yanagishita and William Wetherall, another team in a long line of different Ōe translators, A Quiet Life is unusual in having a female narrator, although the raw material, a family with a author-father and musically-gifted, mentally handicapped son (Hikari but nicknamed Eeyore), is the familiar semi-autobiographical theme that runs through much of Kenzaburō Ōe's fiction, starting with A Personal Matter and Aghwee the Sky Monster.

A Quiet Life is narrated by Ma-chan (Ma being her nickname and the -chan being an affectionate honorific) Eeyore's 20 year-old younger sister.

Her father, "K", is suffering from "a pinch" (not really explained, but seemingly angst-induced writer's block) and "this all happened the year Father was invited to be writer-in-residence at a University in California, and circumstances required that Mother accompany him."

The story starts with Father asking her about her "minimum requirements" for marriage:

"My husband has to be someone who can afford at least a two-bedroom apartment, since Eeyore will be living there with us. And I want to live a quiet life there."

before she goes on to acknowledge that the existence of her brother, for whom she assumes she will eventually assume responsibility, presents a dead-end to her life plans.

The language, in the English translation, didn't seem as smooth to me as other Ōe novels I've read, although I don't know if this reflects (over-)fidelity to the original. For example when her Father reads newspaper reports of mentally handicapped youth assaulting women and decides Eeyore needs to take more exercise:

"But if Father, from such general preconceptions, had worried about "outbursts" from Eeyore - in the same way the newspaper reporter worried about them - and had claimed that exercise a necessary measure (!?) to prevent them, then wouldn't there be something "banal" about Father that comes from his not seeing the facts clearly?"

As her parents move overseas for a year, Ma-chan has to take immediate responsibility for Eeyore, her younger brother O-chan being busy with college preparations.

Through the medium of the novel, Ōe explores both the thoughts of his daughter, somewhat neglected in her parents' attentions due to the inevitable high demands on their time from Eeyore, but also has his daughter experience the practical anxieties that her father and mother encounter on a daily basis.

For example, in an early episode, days after the parents leave, a serial molester of young girls strikes in the neighbourhood and Ma-chan, reflecting her father's concerns, comes to fear that Eeyore could be involved. In particular she worries about a strange new habit she observes of him hiding in some bushes, only to find that, when she secretly follows him, "he stood there straining his ears with a serious expression on his face" listening to the distant strains of someone practising the piano, before concluding with "a placid, contented look .. 'That's Piano Sonata K.311.'"

Ōe's device is to have the novel as Ma-chan's recollections of this time, largely drawn, albeit indirectly, from the "'Diary as Home' I had promised Mother I would keep'' meaning that "I already know what happened but I will write as though I am recalling exactly how I felt and what I thought at each point in time." and Ma-chan's developing feelings about her situation are more key to the novel than the rather limited plot.

Although this focus on Ma-chan's perspective doesn't prevent the novel, via her conversations with family friends and letters from her Mother, from also exploring her Father's psyche, such as his "pinch" seemingly precipitated by a controversial lecture he gave "The prayers of a faithless man". Eeyore's piano teacher summarises:

"Simplifying things, you could say that K's just added on years of survival without changing a bit, and after reaching his fifties he inadvertently ended up speaking his indiscreet thoughts on matters of the soul."

The prose at time focuses on the simple joy of a quiet life, for example as Eeyore reminds Ma-chan of the family tradition of bringing in the plants from outside on the first Sunday of November (having put them outside on the corresponding Sunday in May):

"After bringing in all four pots, Eeyore unable to otherwise express the satisfaction that takes root in the body after physical labour, stepped back out into the garden again and, with his fingers entwined behind his back, stood in the sun under the coloured leaves of the dogwood tree. I went out too, and savouring a rising strength in my heart, tended the potted wild plants, which had shed their bloom long ago and were already preparing for winter. I went around watering all the small potted plants we kept outdoors. Blighted as they were, I pictured their flowers in the spring and summer of their day: the large flowers of the lady's slippers, which were swollen like the bellies of goldfish, and the 'snowholders' with the ricecake-like white mound amid their petals. I thought of each flower, and recalled the moments I had squatted beside Mother while she tended them and taught me their names."

But the story also ties in digressions on he poetry of Yeats and William Blake's verse and art (both signature Ōe influences) as well as Tarkovsky's movie Stalker and the novel on which it is based, Roadside Picnic by the Strugatskys, similar novels by Aitmatov and Bulgakov, Michael Ende's stories "Momo" and "Neverending Story", and an extended digression on Celine (subject of Ma-Chan's thesis). Kurt Vonnegut (loosely fictionalised at "K.V") even appears as an indirect character.

Kenzaburō Ōe's works are highly self-referential. "One of the most salient characteristics of Oe's major works is their interrelated nature: his themes continually recur, his characters reappear in several works under the same names, and episodes in works previously treated are referred to without explanation. The world of Ōe 's imagination is entirely holistic, which makes it impossible to discuss one particular work without touching upon another." from "The burning tree: the spatialized world of Kenzaburō Ōe ", Sanroku Yoshida

A Quiet Life is no exception. Ma-chan's father has also written a story called "M/T and the Narrative About the Marvels of the Forest", one of Ōe's own novels. And a key character at the end of the novel - a rather disappointingly caricatured villain - is himself the inspiration behind an earlier story from Ma-chan's father K (here I have to admit to failing to identify the corresponding novel in Ōe's own works, likely because it has yet to be translated).

Ōe also has Ma-chan comment to her younger brother about their appearance in their father's novels as incidental characters: "A pain in the neck, don't you think, even if it's been done favourably, that he writes about us from his one-dimensional viewpoint? It's all right with my friends who know me, but it depresses me to think that I'm going to meet some people who, through his stories, will have preconceived ideas of me."

Overall another powerful work, and as always with Kenzaburō Ōe, one that the reader appreciates more the more they are familiar with his overall works. There is a clear element of the confessional, with K, the Ōe proxy, absent both physically and as a direct character, with Ōe acknowledging the issues faced by his other children.

When Ma-chan's mother reads "Dairy as Home", on which the novel draws, she suggests Ma-Chan send it to their father, still in California: "If Papa reads this, he might remember he has a family."

[Amila · Rating 5 out of 5]

Jednostavan život je sve samo ne jednostavan. O životu sa mentalno zaostalom osobom, brizi o njoj a istovremeno i o sebi i ostalima, Ma-čan mi je postala jako drag lik. Knjiga je poučna za svakoga, vjerovatno polu-autobiografska, pošto i pisac ima sina s istim problemom.

[Robert Wechsler · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is one of those novels whose setup (the first half or so) is much better than the plot (the second half or so). The setup is special. It features a singular first-person narrator whose wandering and circling around a circle of characters is somehow mesmerizing. I can’t explain the appeal, but it really worked for me, in ways I’d never experienced.

But then we move to the swimming pool and a new character, and it seems to change everything. What went round and round now goes on and on. There are hints and warnings, but none of them, unfortunately, refer to the narrative.

Note that the Kindle version of the English translation reviewed here has many false words, close to the text, but off a little, clearly because the mobi file was based on a PDF shot from the physical book rather than on a direct digital version.

[Gertrude & Victoria · Rating 2 out of 5]

Oe Kenzaburo is known for writing about family affairs with honesty, warmth, and compassion, and A Quiet Life is no different. He takes the most ordinary occurences and creats something original - something special. His portrait of family relationships is painstaking, as his writing reflects well-developed characters.

Ma-chan, the daughter and her older brother are the central characters in this family story set in Tokyo. Ma-chan finds herself as the head of the household, when her parents move to America for her father's job. Her older brother is disabled, but possesses an exceptional gift of musical composition. She cares for him during their parents' absence, which sees her develop emotionally. She courageously accepts this responsibility, which is not an easy one. Over the course of days and weeks the two become closer as they learn and mature through their personal burdens and mutual dependence.

This is an unique look into a Japanese nuclear family, where promise, anxiety, disappointment and joy are tasted and shared for an enriching reading experience.

[Kyle C]

Ma-chan is a twenty-year old student. Her father, K-chan, is a renowned author. She has two older brothers: one is a university student, the other, whom they named Eeyore, is mentally disabled and requires their constant supervision. He suffers from periodic epileptic fits and struggles to follow conversations but he is a gifted composer. When their father decides to take up a university post in California, Ma-chan is left alone with the responsibility of caring for Eeyore—a litany of small chores and unexpected menaces, taking him to his music lessons, following him back from haircuts, dealing with prowlers, protecting him from psychotic swim-teachers. Eeyore's disability defines their family life but their father's decision to leave for California causes a sense of profound disorientation. How could he leave them when Eeyore needs his father's constant presence? Did he leave because he was afraid of seeing his great uncle pass away? Or did he leave because he needed to sever himself from his son, to leave him behind? Did he leave to heal and restore his marriage, one he feels was left broken after the tragic birth of Eeyore? Or did he leave so that he could, with distance, write about the son whose life of dependency paradoxically gives his father purpose? His son's handicap is not just a misfortune but, in his mind, a spiritual penance which exempts him from his lifelong sense of vocation to be an ascetic monk.

For much of this book, Ma-chan thinks about Tarkovsky's film Stalker. She is obsessed with the Stalker, the man who has to guide people through the mysterious Zone to find the special Room which will answer all their desires. She ruminates on the final scene in which the Stalker comes back to his home to find his distraught, screaming wife and his silent, staring daughter, who in the final moments seems to make a cup of water move (is it an illusion? Is it simply the rattling train outside? or does she possess telekinesis?) She thinks of the dumb-founded girl and she thinks of her brother Eeyore, and she thinks of her own father, a kind of Stalker who is roaming the outside world in pursuit of some dream, whose literary successes are perversely predicated on the mental deficits of his son, who has transmuted his child's mental disability into a spiritual crux and artistic inspiration. Somehow this Russian film is a perfect cipher for her own Japanese family.

Kenzaburo Oe's novel is a slow-moving patient examination of a quiet life dedicated to the care of a child with special needs. Throughout the novel, the father, K-chan, is simply called K and we are left to think of Kafka and his confused protagonists (the K of The Castle, the Joseph K of The Trial) who are thrown into absurd and unintelligible circumstances. So it is for K-chan, and his daughter Ma-chan, who must reconcile themselves to, and find meaning in, a family life that is both dispiriting and ennobling.

[Jee Koh · Rating 4 out of 5]

My introduction to Kenzaburō Ōe, and it is a mighty one. It begins so slowly, okay, so quietly, and then mounts and mounts in layered complexity as almost clinically it focuses on one and then another character in a very small social grouping comprising a family (K-san the father who is a novelist, the mother, the brain-damaged older son Eeyore, the daughter, and the younger son); their friends, the Shigetos; and the members of the local swim club. The parents' departure for America, ostensibly for the father to take up a writing residency but really for him to deal with his depression, provides the pretext for Ma-chan the daughter's keeping of a diary, which will inform the parents of all that is happening back home. The diary-as-home will eventually become the novel A Quiet Life. Ma-chan appears at first quite simple; she elicits sympathy for her horror at remaining single and unloved because she will have to look after her disabled brother after her parents die. Even at the beginning of the novel, however, we glimpse an admirable knot of stubbornness in her, vocalized internally as Hell, no! Hell, no! Who saves whom and who destroys whom, who is the Christ and who the Anti-Christ, remain open questions until the very end when the very attractive local competitive swimmer Mr. Arai turns up, with his "armor of muscles." The ethical challenge posed by the novel, however, is not so crude. Articulated by the wonderful Mrs Shigeto, the question is whether we can think of ourselves as nobodies and still act for good. Or, inversely, to act for good and still think of ourselves as nobodies.

[Valerie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Finished on the couch in Australia, though I started this in Japan. Written from the perspective of a twenty-year old woman, the prose follows the same flavour as a lot of other Japanese literature - blunt, straightforward, objective writing, which though lends clarity makes the thing sound childish and underwritten at times. This was published in 1990 and translated in 1996 so its tone is not as extreme as the very contemporary stuff, thank god. I liked the modernist elements - the long, introspective digressions, the stories within stories, the looseness of the chapters. Felt like a craft though I still wish it was about 100 pages shorter. There's also a chapter titled The Guide (Stalker) wherein the characters watch and then reflect on Tarkovsky's Stalker. So obviously that appeals to me.

[Karen · Rating 3 out of 5]

First time reading this author. I found it a bit difficult to get into, but by the end I was invested in the characters.

Ma-chan's father a famous novelist, accepts a (writer-in-residence, I think it's called) position at an American University in California, for at least 6 months. She is left in charge of her two siblings. Eeyore, her older disabled brother, brain damaged from birth, and her younger brother who is studying for his entrance exams for University (therefore not a huge help to Ma-chan).

I like that the focus here is on Ma-chan and Eeyore, because I think we see the growth of these two characters.

A lot of discussion on disability, movies, books, and a chapter that warms my heart: swimming

[Tony · Rating 3 out of 5]

I mean, I like book, very interesting in some parts and very dull in others. The middle was kinda weird, but now I would like to read roadside picnic. I like Eeyore, he just a cutie. Poor Ma-chan. Also I read like a hundred pages before I relieved there was a third child, he is the real forgotten child. Bad dad and mom. Blah. Last 50 pages good. I love cervina.

[Ryan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Barely plot driven and was slower to move, so was not one of my faves of his. Loved Ma-Chan though: mature but slightly naive, sometimes gets things wrong but always seems to have the best intentions, loyal and fiercely protective, and has a beautiful relationship with her brother. The bit where she’s really proud of him for learning how to swim was so cute.

[Anna Brubacher · Rating 3 out of 5]

Thought-provoking but deeply, deeply disturbing

[Ally Yang · Rating 4 out of 5]

[2026.01.15_4]

1. 故事中很長篇幅討論電影《潛行者》及塞林的《黎高冬》，對於這兩部作品陌生的讀者，有點困難。
2. 書中提到才剛讀完的上一本書的 〈宗教大法官〉 覺得親切，更慚愧似懂非懂。

------書摘------

無論再小的事上也不要讓自己特權化、盡可能讓自己作為一個普通人，這樣便能夠自在地生活。〈自動人偶的惡夢〉

要以一個沒什麼的普通人的身分活著，需要經過相當的歷練。〈自動人偶的惡夢〉

一位少女獨自拯救了全世界，毋寧是屢屢發生的！只不過沒有流傳下來罷了。大概因為拯救了全世界的少女，自己都不太清楚自己所做的事⋯⋯。〈小說的哀傷〉 （小Ma的父親與小Ma討論默默）

無知少女的偽惡嗜好 〈小說的哀傷〉

早已被寵壞的人，不只是小孩，就算大人甚至也會深信犧牲別人是理所當然的事。〈家庭日記〉



【系美】

[sadie austin · Rating 2 out of 5]

this book provoked me to cry “maranatha” in an unsettling, depressed way

[Andreea · Rating 2 out of 5]

I gave it 2 starts because I have a great admiration for Japanese literature in general. But not for this one. I think the author tried to transmit a lot more than he actually could.
Even the literary references are naive and childish for me.
I do not believe any of the characters, one should know that writing about painful subjects it is not enough to make a great book. Having such generous themes and writing this is quite disappointing.

[Judith · Rating 4 out of 5]

For a book about a quiet life, it is oddly unsettling, and I think that is the point. As the blurb says, Ma, affectionately known as Ma-chan, a 20-year-old woman, is suddenly left home in charge of the house and her two brothers for an uncertain period of time while her famous writer father recovers from a "pinch" (a sudden depression?) at a university in America, taking his wife with him. At first this seems like a fairly innocuous premise for a book, given how dutiful and structured the siblings' lives are. Her parents are in close touch, and it is clearly not going to be one of those stories where the children break out in wild escapades while Mom and Dad are away. Yet as Ma's discoveries and experiences pile up, discussed in Jamesian detail by an odd cast of characters as well as by Ma herself, they take on layers of ambiguous meaning. No one is quite who they seem, and final judgments are not quite rendered. One reads the book nervously, expecting danger, which indeed comes, and pathos, which doesn't. I found myself laughing out loud in delight at some of the characters' unexpected observations.

Because of this ambiguity, one can't assume the the autobiographical dimension of the book is, or even could be, strictly accurate. (Does Oe's daughter really have a tiny ball-shaped head -- her name "Ma" is actually a nickname meaning "ball" -- and legs like sticks? Does Oe really have access to her diary and her dreams?) It's more the lens through which he sees and reflects on society and life, including his own. (For an absent character, Oe, or "K" and "Father" in the book, is a very central figure.)

Having an "Eeyore" in my family, I was fascinated by the treatment of that vulnerable character. The number of people who care for him, look out for him, discuss him, involve him in their lives and help him reach his potential is quite different from my family's experience, and very touching to me. At the same time, when Ma says at the beginning of the book that she will always be with Eeyore, and that if she ever marries, Eeyore will have to live with her and her husband, Oe suggests the cost of that kind of love. Oe is aware that the burden of caregiving is borne mainly by women: the criticism of K/Father by the other characters in the book, especially the women, is eye-opening for Ma. But her devotion to Eeyore doesn't waver. She refuses to see him as a burden, and the book shows why. Ironically, K/Father in his youth had a spiritual crisis in which he was forced to recognize that he did not possess the spirit of sacrifice necessary to be a Christian. But Ma, without being any sort of Christian, is prepared to give up the idea of having a family of her own for her brother's sake --and joyfully. The crisis near the end of the book suggests that this sacrifice may be affecting her psyche in dangerous ways. Then again....

This was my first book by Oe. It definitely won't be the last.

[Michelle Yoon · Rating 4 out of 5]

A Quiet Life is narrated by Ma-chan, a twenty year old girl. When her father, a novelist, goes off to California because of a ‘pinch’ that he is facing, her mother goes along with him to make sure that nothing untoward happens. This suddenly leaves Ma-chan the temporary head of the family, responsible for both Eeyore, her mentally-handicapped older brother, and O-Chan, her go-it-alone younger brother.

The description on the cover jacket says this is a Japanese “I”-novel, a blend of the real with the imagined, memoir with fiction. And it seems that this is true for most of Oe’s work. Eeyore is very much like his own son, Hikaru, both mentally handicapped, but amazingly talented in music. In the book, the father, referred to as K (perhaps K for Kenzaburo?) is described as someone particularly protective of Eeyore, so much to the extent of somewhat neglecting Ma-chan. This creates a tension between father and daughter, but ironically, Ma-chan probably followed her father’s footsteps closest, as she is the only one who picked up literature.

Because the story is narrated by Ma-chan, I found it especially interesting how she viewed her father, and what she thought of his actions. She specifically mentions that her decision to take up literature was not influenced by her father, but even as she says that, her own story then negates her conviction. Could it be that she was trying to find a connection to her father through literature?

*

A Quiet Life is not a plot-heavy story. In fact, perhaps there is little to suggest a story-line at all. What the book does deliver is a certain affection for the characters within it. Almost all the characters feel like they have been delicately crafted with a lot of love and patience down to the very last detail, and reading the book is like getting to know them up close.

[Patricia Bracewell · Rating 1 out of 5]

Oe won the Nobel Prize for Literature before, I believe, he wrote this novel. One has to assume that there is great merit in his writing, but it is difficult to assess by looking at this work. I found the translation very poor.

I have to wonder if, as well, part of the difficulty I had with the book lies in the inscrutable oriental mind. Oe seems to be operating on a plane which is far different from the one I inhabit. I believe the author may be in another galaxy in terms of his aims as a writer intersecting with my aims as a reader. We barely inhabit the same universe.

This is a book about a dysfunctional family -- parents and 3 children. But what the author was trying to communicate to the reader through this story, I cannot say. Again, I think it may have far more to do with the translation than with Oe's skill as a writer.

[Masanaka Takashima · Rating 1 out of 5]

In many cases, booklovers tend to praise a book while criticise bitterly its film version. But here I strongly recommend that you should watch the film directed by Juzo Itami if you are considering reading this story. The English translation’s standard is ridiculously poor. Besides that, through reading this book, I’ve come to be doubtful about Oe’s ethical standard as a professional writer. He has often mentioned, in articles or essays, negative sides of Japan’s Emperor system. But if you read this book, you’ll find the structural outline of the father ( i.e. Oe himself ) and other family members in the book looks similar with that of Japan’s Emperor and people. It’s gross to see someone come to look like his enemy.

[Nancy · Rating 4 out of 5]

The first thing I have written in my notes on this book is that it sort of creeps up on you, gaining your interest through simple stories told in a short story format. It is semi-autobiographical, with Oe represented as the father, “K.” The real ‘star’ of the book is his mentally retarded son Eeyour, a savant who composes classical music. Unencumbered by extraneous thought, Eeyour often proves to be the wisest of the family. He comes up with meaningful titles for his compositions and even for the book itself. “A Quiet Life” is a testament for all of us in learning to focus and not letting life’s many distractions divert us from appreciating the ‘moment.’

[Carolyn · Rating 1 out of 5]

If I hadn't been reading this for a book group, I would likely not have finished it. I think a lot of the problem was with the translation. I know that the conversion to the Kindle edition was a catastrophe--whoever scanned it did not bother proofreading, and the text is RIDDLED with awful errors, especially of the sort where one word has been substituted for another because one letter didn't scan properly. The translation also seemed to me to be very clunky, repetitive, and tedious. Maybe the original is like that, but I hope not. Best character: Eeyore.