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Japan, the Ambiguous, and Myself: The Nobel Prize Speech and Other Lectures
In December 1994, on the acceptance of only the second Nobel Prize awarded to a Japanese writer, Kenzaburo Oe gave a speech that was a message for one that pledged his own faith in tolerance and human decency; in the renunciation of war; and in the healing power of art - the power to calm and purify.
Other key addresses he has given elsewhere join the Nobel lecture in this volume, giving a wider view of the work of a literary activist who sees himself as one of a dying breed in the intellectual life of his own country.
Other key addresses he has given elsewhere join the Nobel lecture in this volume, giving a wider view of the work of a literary activist who sees himself as one of a dying breed in the intellectual life of his own country.
128 pages, Hardcover
First published April 30, 1995
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About the author
Kenzaburō Ōe
239 books1,693 followersKenzaburō 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."
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."
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May 30, 2017
When the masterful Kenzaburō Ōe was deservedly awarded the Nobel Prize in 1994 - the citation read "who with poetic force creates an imagined world, where life and myth condense to form a disconcerting picture of the human predicament today" - his acceptance speech was titled 'Japan, the Ambiguous, and Myself' in a deliberate twist on the title of the lecture by the first Japanese literature laureate, Kawabata Yasunari:
As someone living in the present world such as this one and sharing bitter memories of the past imprinted on my mind, I cannot utter in unison with Kawabata the phrase 'Japan, the Beautiful and Myself'. A moment ago I touched upon the 'vagueness' of the title and content of Kawabata's lecture. In the rest of my lecture I would like to use the word 'ambiguous' in accordance with the distinction made by the eminent British poet Kathleen Raine; she once said of William Blake that he was not so much vague as ambiguous. I cannot talk about myself otherwise than by saying 'Japan, the Ambiguous, and Myself'.
My observation is that after one hundred and twenty years of modernisation since the opening of the country, present-day Japan is split between two opposite poles of ambiguity. I too am living as a writer with this polarisation imprinted on me like a deep scar.
This ambiguity which is so powerful and penetrating that it splits both the state and its people is evident in various ways. The modernisation of Japan has been orientated toward learning from and imitating the West. Yet Japan is situated in Asia and has firmly maintained its traditional culture. The ambiguous orientation of Japan drove the country into the position of an invader in Asia. On the other hand, the culture of modern Japan, which implied being thoroughly open to the West or at least that impeded understanding by the West. What was more, Japan was driven into isolation from other Asian countries, not only politically but also socially and culturally.
It is an excellent speech, detailed, thoughtful and illuminating, explaining Ōe's work in the context of both his personal situation and the development of Japan. Ōe comments that the fundamental style of my writing has been to start from my personal matters and then to link it up with society, the state and the world. One of his key novels was entitled A Personal Matter, and the two key themes of his work relate to the two key foundations of his own life.
From an interview in the Paris Review:
In the history of modern Japan literature the writers most sincere and aware of their mission were those 'post-war writers' who came onto the literary scene immediately after the last War, deeply wounded by the catastrophe yet full of hope for a rebirth. They tried with great pains to make up for the inhuman atrocities committed by Japanese military forces in Asian countries, as well as to bridge the profound gaps that existed not only between the developed countries of the West and Japan but also between African and Latin American countries and Japan. Only by doing so did they think that they could seek with some humility reconciliation with the rest of the world. It has always been my aspiration to cling to the very end of the line of that literary tradition inherited from those writers.
His own mission he describes:
I am one of the writers who wish to create serious works of literature which dissociate themselves from those novels which are mere reflections of the vast consumer cultures of Tokyo and the subcultures of the world at large.
This book contains the Nobel lecture in full - but it is actually freely available on the Nobel Prize website (http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prize...), indeed even with an audio recording. Hence, largely for commercial purposes, it is accompanied here by three other speeches:
- Speaking on Japanese Culture Before a Scandinavian Audience, delivered in 1999, 2 years before the Nobel lecture
- On Modern and Contemporary Japanese Literature, delivered at a 1990 conference in San Francisco
- Japan's Dual Identity: A Writer's Dilemma, delivered at Duke University in the US, also in 1986
The themes explored are essentially similar and none quite soars to the rhetorical heights of the Nobel lecture, which one imagines Ōe spent considerably time and effort perfecting and polishing [I must comment in passing, a massive contrast to the rather shallow lecture by the ridiculous choice for the 2016 winner, a lecture he couldn't even be bothered to deliver in person].
But the one thing Ōe does in these other lectures, which I imagine he felt was less fitting for the Nobel Prize, was to provide more critical commentary on modern and contemporary Japanese literature, even to point the figure to those novels which are mere reflections of the vast consumer cultures of Tokyo and the subcultures of the world at large.
Ōe comments on the dominance in modern literature, at least in terms of both domestic sales and international profile, of Banana Yoshimoto and, particularly, Haruki Murakami. The striking thing is that these comments were made not in 2017 but in 1990, when Murakami's works in English translation were only just emerging, and even his original language oeuvre was still developing (Norwegian Wood was published in Japan in 1987, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle not until 1994-5).
Ambiguous would be a polite way of describing the relationship between Murakami and Ōe. Ōe appears to, at least, admire his intellectual engagement with American literature (including as a translator) and to be envious of his "extremely wide and avid readership", particularly as Ōe's own readership fell away with his later, more complex works, but to be no fan of the ways he achieves it, in particular the lack of engagement with "serious" issues.
[Yoshimoto's] fiction is at least an unselfconscious expressed of her own generation. But in the case of Murakami, a writer in his forties and in that sense a generation older than Yoshimoto, we have an exceedingly self-conscious representation of contemporary cultural habits.
Murakami has himself counter-commented on Ōe: “He was a powerful writer to me when he was young, but I’m not interested in politics or making statements. I let him do that. What I care about is my readers.”
In this lecture, Ōe speculates as to whether the readers attracted by Murakami and Yoshimoto would fall away as those authors and their audience matured, or would move on to wider Japanese literature. He also suggests a number of "serious contemporary writers" who might take literature forward. I suspect if Ōe has foreseen in 1990 what would have become of the scene in 2017, he would be both surprised that Murakami continues to plough much the same scene while enjoying, if anything, even greater success, while the various names he mentions have largely made little impact, at least in the West. [The exception is [author:Kōbō Abe|6526], but he was already well established by 1990].
Overall 4.5 stars for the Nobel lecture, but lowered to 3 for this book as it feels a way of turning a freely available lecture into a book that can be sold. But Kenzaburō Ōe's novels I would strongly recommend to anyone.
As someone living in the present world such as this one and sharing bitter memories of the past imprinted on my mind, I cannot utter in unison with Kawabata the phrase 'Japan, the Beautiful and Myself'. A moment ago I touched upon the 'vagueness' of the title and content of Kawabata's lecture. In the rest of my lecture I would like to use the word 'ambiguous' in accordance with the distinction made by the eminent British poet Kathleen Raine; she once said of William Blake that he was not so much vague as ambiguous. I cannot talk about myself otherwise than by saying 'Japan, the Ambiguous, and Myself'.
My observation is that after one hundred and twenty years of modernisation since the opening of the country, present-day Japan is split between two opposite poles of ambiguity. I too am living as a writer with this polarisation imprinted on me like a deep scar.
This ambiguity which is so powerful and penetrating that it splits both the state and its people is evident in various ways. The modernisation of Japan has been orientated toward learning from and imitating the West. Yet Japan is situated in Asia and has firmly maintained its traditional culture. The ambiguous orientation of Japan drove the country into the position of an invader in Asia. On the other hand, the culture of modern Japan, which implied being thoroughly open to the West or at least that impeded understanding by the West. What was more, Japan was driven into isolation from other Asian countries, not only politically but also socially and culturally.
It is an excellent speech, detailed, thoughtful and illuminating, explaining Ōe's work in the context of both his personal situation and the development of Japan. Ōe comments that the fundamental style of my writing has been to start from my personal matters and then to link it up with society, the state and the world. One of his key novels was entitled A Personal Matter, and the two key themes of his work relate to the two key foundations of his own life.
From an interview in the Paris Review:
He describes most of his fiction as an extrapolation of the themes explored in two novels: A Personal Matter (1964), which recounts a father’s attempt to come to terms with the birth of his handicapped child; and The Silent Cry (1967), which depicts the clash between village life and modern culture in postwar Japan. The former "are rooted in Oe’s personal experience of Hikari’s birth (the narrator is usually a writer), but the narrators often make decisions very different than the one Oe and his wife made." The latter novels "explore the folklore and mythology Oe heard from his mother and grandmother, and they typically feature a narrator who is forced to examine the self-deceptions he has created for the sake of living in a community.But Ōe sees himself as one of a line of "sincere" or "serious" writers - the Japanese term is 純文学, phonetically junbungaku.
In the history of modern Japan literature the writers most sincere and aware of their mission were those 'post-war writers' who came onto the literary scene immediately after the last War, deeply wounded by the catastrophe yet full of hope for a rebirth. They tried with great pains to make up for the inhuman atrocities committed by Japanese military forces in Asian countries, as well as to bridge the profound gaps that existed not only between the developed countries of the West and Japan but also between African and Latin American countries and Japan. Only by doing so did they think that they could seek with some humility reconciliation with the rest of the world. It has always been my aspiration to cling to the very end of the line of that literary tradition inherited from those writers.
His own mission he describes:
I am one of the writers who wish to create serious works of literature which dissociate themselves from those novels which are mere reflections of the vast consumer cultures of Tokyo and the subcultures of the world at large.
This book contains the Nobel lecture in full - but it is actually freely available on the Nobel Prize website (http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prize...), indeed even with an audio recording. Hence, largely for commercial purposes, it is accompanied here by three other speeches:
- Speaking on Japanese Culture Before a Scandinavian Audience, delivered in 1999, 2 years before the Nobel lecture
- On Modern and Contemporary Japanese Literature, delivered at a 1990 conference in San Francisco
- Japan's Dual Identity: A Writer's Dilemma, delivered at Duke University in the US, also in 1986
The themes explored are essentially similar and none quite soars to the rhetorical heights of the Nobel lecture, which one imagines Ōe spent considerably time and effort perfecting and polishing [I must comment in passing, a massive contrast to the rather shallow lecture by the ridiculous choice for the 2016 winner, a lecture he couldn't even be bothered to deliver in person].
But the one thing Ōe does in these other lectures, which I imagine he felt was less fitting for the Nobel Prize, was to provide more critical commentary on modern and contemporary Japanese literature, even to point the figure to those novels which are mere reflections of the vast consumer cultures of Tokyo and the subcultures of the world at large.
Ōe comments on the dominance in modern literature, at least in terms of both domestic sales and international profile, of Banana Yoshimoto and, particularly, Haruki Murakami. The striking thing is that these comments were made not in 2017 but in 1990, when Murakami's works in English translation were only just emerging, and even his original language oeuvre was still developing (Norwegian Wood was published in Japan in 1987, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle not until 1994-5).
Ambiguous would be a polite way of describing the relationship between Murakami and Ōe. Ōe appears to, at least, admire his intellectual engagement with American literature (including as a translator) and to be envious of his "extremely wide and avid readership", particularly as Ōe's own readership fell away with his later, more complex works, but to be no fan of the ways he achieves it, in particular the lack of engagement with "serious" issues.
[Yoshimoto's] fiction is at least an unselfconscious expressed of her own generation. But in the case of Murakami, a writer in his forties and in that sense a generation older than Yoshimoto, we have an exceedingly self-conscious representation of contemporary cultural habits.
Murakami has himself counter-commented on Ōe: “He was a powerful writer to me when he was young, but I’m not interested in politics or making statements. I let him do that. What I care about is my readers.”
In this lecture, Ōe speculates as to whether the readers attracted by Murakami and Yoshimoto would fall away as those authors and their audience matured, or would move on to wider Japanese literature. He also suggests a number of "serious contemporary writers" who might take literature forward. I suspect if Ōe has foreseen in 1990 what would have become of the scene in 2017, he would be both surprised that Murakami continues to plough much the same scene while enjoying, if anything, even greater success, while the various names he mentions have largely made little impact, at least in the West. [The exception is [author:Kōbō Abe|6526], but he was already well established by 1990].
Overall 4.5 stars for the Nobel lecture, but lowered to 3 for this book as it feels a way of turning a freely available lecture into a book that can be sold. But Kenzaburō Ōe's novels I would strongly recommend to anyone.
September 30, 2013
Japan, the Ambiguous, and Myself is a series of lectures (including his Nobel Prize speech) that discuss the current state of Japanese literature, his feelings regarding his own written works, the state of Japan in relation to the world, and Japanese consumer culture. A theme that runs throughout many of the essays is the spiritual and literary decline of Japan in the 80s and 90s.
You can read the nobel prize lecture here:
http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prize...
As one reads these lectures, one should remember the climate of the time. Japan was at the height of its economic ascent and there was some fear in the US that Japan might surpass the US in economic might. Oe argues (much as Natsume Soseki did during the Meiji period) that Japan's spiritual decline goes hand in hand with its consumerism. His positive vision for Japan as a country and its literary culture is that it should stop trying to embrace a big power role and instead embrace its role as a peripheral country (Oe even goes as far as to suggest that Japan should recognize itself as a third world country). Only by doing so, can Japan make amends with its neighbors and reinvigorate the national spirit.
I'll admit, any discussion of spiritual decline makes me uncomfortable: too often such statements are made by nationalists or other conservatives in Japan with agendas like re-militarization, prewar nostalgia for the emperor system, and patriotic education. In any country, the evocation of spiritual decline is usually the opening for some kind of fundamentalism. Often "spiritual decline" is not something concrete but is rather a free floating signifier used to capture the anguish of many--people who for various reasons feel uncomfortable with change and feel powerless over the circumstances.
Oe does try to define "spiritual decline" in terms of the decline of literary journals and the rise of consumer culture in Japan. To his credit, he also does something to define a positive vision of Japan through the idea of a "peripheral" or third world Japan. The problem for me is still that the concept of "spiritual decline" is too easy. Soseki did it in the Meiji period; Oe does it to describe the 80s and 90s; so when was Japan not going through a "spiritual decline"? The Tokugawa era? Wartime? One could probably find instances of people describing their era as spiritually impoverished in any place at any time. Indeed, the concept of "spiritual decline" is invoked for the very reason that it is vague and captures those people (and there are always some) who are dissatisfied with the times.
The book is well deserving of five stars. Each of the four lectures is filled with wonderful personal anecdotes, compelling ideas, and insights on Japanese literature. That the book incited such strong opinion in me is in no way a negative judgement on its quality--quite the contrary.
The social scientist in me, however, will not be silenced: define spiritual decline; define decadence; define literary decline. How can we know these things exist? Since every generation seems to talk about these things as if they were real and threatening, how do we know they are just some conjurings for political purposes? In retrospect, we might find our own labels for literature of this time and readers may discover a renaissance where others found decadence.
You can read the nobel prize lecture here:
http://www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prize...
As one reads these lectures, one should remember the climate of the time. Japan was at the height of its economic ascent and there was some fear in the US that Japan might surpass the US in economic might. Oe argues (much as Natsume Soseki did during the Meiji period) that Japan's spiritual decline goes hand in hand with its consumerism. His positive vision for Japan as a country and its literary culture is that it should stop trying to embrace a big power role and instead embrace its role as a peripheral country (Oe even goes as far as to suggest that Japan should recognize itself as a third world country). Only by doing so, can Japan make amends with its neighbors and reinvigorate the national spirit.
I'll admit, any discussion of spiritual decline makes me uncomfortable: too often such statements are made by nationalists or other conservatives in Japan with agendas like re-militarization, prewar nostalgia for the emperor system, and patriotic education. In any country, the evocation of spiritual decline is usually the opening for some kind of fundamentalism. Often "spiritual decline" is not something concrete but is rather a free floating signifier used to capture the anguish of many--people who for various reasons feel uncomfortable with change and feel powerless over the circumstances.
Oe does try to define "spiritual decline" in terms of the decline of literary journals and the rise of consumer culture in Japan. To his credit, he also does something to define a positive vision of Japan through the idea of a "peripheral" or third world Japan. The problem for me is still that the concept of "spiritual decline" is too easy. Soseki did it in the Meiji period; Oe does it to describe the 80s and 90s; so when was Japan not going through a "spiritual decline"? The Tokugawa era? Wartime? One could probably find instances of people describing their era as spiritually impoverished in any place at any time. Indeed, the concept of "spiritual decline" is invoked for the very reason that it is vague and captures those people (and there are always some) who are dissatisfied with the times.
The book is well deserving of five stars. Each of the four lectures is filled with wonderful personal anecdotes, compelling ideas, and insights on Japanese literature. That the book incited such strong opinion in me is in no way a negative judgement on its quality--quite the contrary.
The social scientist in me, however, will not be silenced: define spiritual decline; define decadence; define literary decline. How can we know these things exist? Since every generation seems to talk about these things as if they were real and threatening, how do we know they are just some conjurings for political purposes? In retrospect, we might find our own labels for literature of this time and readers may discover a renaissance where others found decadence.
April 13, 2018
This is a great compendium of essays and speeches by one of the most erudite minds from Japan. Oe Kenzaburo seems to be a born raconteur. This eponymous book "Japan, the Ambiguous, and Myself," is also the title of Oe Kenzaburo's Nobel Prize acceptance speech from 1994. In addition to the Nobel Prize Speech are the fascinating, but somewhat cerebral essays: 1. Speaking on Japanese Culture before a Scandinavian Audience; 2. On Modern and Contemporary Japanese Literature; and 3. Japan's Dual Identity: A Writer's Dilemma.
I found "Japan's Dual Identity: A Writer's Dilemma," to be the most prophetic and elegiac piece in this book. Some of the bleak allusions that are drawn in this essay feel very prescient today -- in particular, the hostile stance the Japanese government has placed on immigration and the refugee crisis, and the overall response to the "No Nukes" protests, which Oe Kenzaburo also participated in. Although Oe gave this speech nearly 40 years ago, some of the arguments made herein are still applicable to Japan and Asia in the present and future. Oe begins his bleak view by asserting, "Japanese literature is decaying. That is to say, I have good reason to believe that the Japanese are losing their power to produce an active model of life in the present and for the future. I suspect that modern Japanese culture is losing its vitality, and that we are seeing, as a consequence, the waning of its literature. Literature no longer seems able to capture the attention of the younger generation, which usually responds so sensitively to new cultural developments -- a fact, I believe, that is already common knowledge in cultural journalism." Luckily, the rest of the essay does not display any further philosophical jargon, but instead explores themes that are straightforward and universal.
On the textual level it appears that Oe is bemoaning the decline of high Japanese literature, but a further reading reveals the subtext: Japan has been moving towards moral ambiguity, consequently causing a cultural and artistic deterioration. This a recommended read if you are a humanist, a fan of Erik Erikson and Donald Winnicott, or if you are simply an emotionally mature individual.
I found "Japan's Dual Identity: A Writer's Dilemma," to be the most prophetic and elegiac piece in this book. Some of the bleak allusions that are drawn in this essay feel very prescient today -- in particular, the hostile stance the Japanese government has placed on immigration and the refugee crisis, and the overall response to the "No Nukes" protests, which Oe Kenzaburo also participated in. Although Oe gave this speech nearly 40 years ago, some of the arguments made herein are still applicable to Japan and Asia in the present and future. Oe begins his bleak view by asserting, "Japanese literature is decaying. That is to say, I have good reason to believe that the Japanese are losing their power to produce an active model of life in the present and for the future. I suspect that modern Japanese culture is losing its vitality, and that we are seeing, as a consequence, the waning of its literature. Literature no longer seems able to capture the attention of the younger generation, which usually responds so sensitively to new cultural developments -- a fact, I believe, that is already common knowledge in cultural journalism." Luckily, the rest of the essay does not display any further philosophical jargon, but instead explores themes that are straightforward and universal.
On the textual level it appears that Oe is bemoaning the decline of high Japanese literature, but a further reading reveals the subtext: Japan has been moving towards moral ambiguity, consequently causing a cultural and artistic deterioration. This a recommended read if you are a humanist, a fan of Erik Erikson and Donald Winnicott, or if you are simply an emotionally mature individual.
August 26, 2008
(Sorry, the review is in Spanish)
Kenzaburo Oe es bien conocido por haber ganado el premio Nóbel de Literatura en 1992, siendo el segundo japonés en conseguir el galardón del gobierno sueco. Los pocos japoneses que lo han leído explican que el estilo de este autor es hermético, difícil. Tal vez se trate de lo que él bien llama “buena literatura” o 純文学, y una de las constantes de los tópicos en sus discursos en universidades americanas: Kenzaburo se queja de que el nivel literario de los libros publicados y vendidos en los últimos años ha decaído considerablemente, y en el pack de autores comerciales incluye sin piedad a Murakami y Banana Yoshimoto, que hacen excesivas concesiones a un lector poco exigente. Kenzaburo contrasta esta situación actual con la de posguerra, y conecta la realidad literaria del país con su realidad económica, social y política. La conclusión más atrevida del incendiario literato es que la sociedad, en su afán por imitar a Occidente y su comodidad económica, ha llegado a una decadencia moral y cultural, a una destrucción de cualquier tipo de valores que puedan sobrepasar lo material. En este caso lo moral no se trata de un juicio pacato sobre el comportamiento sexual de los japoneses sino la denuncia de una exclusiva atención a un consumismo occidental de marca, vacío de contenido; y al plagio de modas culturales que en Japón tienen poca aplicación, sólo en aras de una supuesta modernidad de apariencia. La actitud superficial de los escritores, para Kenzaburo, tiene guarda relación con el fenómeno de la tendencia actual de la sociedad japonesa hacia posturas conservadoras y nacionalistas, cerrándose en sí misma frente a una realidad asiática que le debería ser más cercana y a la que debería respetar en lugar de expoliar económicamente. Aunque las conferencias transcritas en este libro son de los años 90, me gustaría ver la cara del Nóbel si pudiera presenciar las controversias actuales sobre las visitas de Koizumi y compañía a Yasukuni, la polémica sobre la enseñanza de actitudes patrióticas en las escuelas públicas e incluso la nueva legislación sobre el control de la inmigración. Es como si el Nóbel hubiera leído en una bola de cristal lo que iba a suceder diez años más tarde.
Uno de mis estudiantes un día me contaba que la cuestión de las Fuerzas de Autodefensa no era más que un eufemismo y que Japón debería tener un Ministerio de Guerra -Defensa- como todos los demás países, y los japoneses tenían derecho a estar orgullosos de serlo. En parte le di la razón, pero argumentos como los de Kenzaburo, unidos a la tendencia de la sociedad japonesa de cerrarse en sí misma para evitar las disensiones dentro de ella, más peligrosas consignas nacionalistas en un país-isla como Japón, pueden llevar a peligrosas posiciones racistas –latentes y no latentes en la actualidad-, e innecesarias tensiones con vecinos históricamente agraviados.
En cuanto a la literatura, creo que es un fenómeno universal: la introducción de lo audiovisual, Internet y los teléfonos móviles en la vida diaria del ciudadano del primer mundo han afectado también a la literatura, haciéndola más ligera, más visual, menos comprometida filosófica y políticamente, más pobre según Kenzaburo. Es la vieja discusión sobre si el pop art es tan arte como el high-brow art.
Kenzaburo Oe es bien conocido por haber ganado el premio Nóbel de Literatura en 1992, siendo el segundo japonés en conseguir el galardón del gobierno sueco. Los pocos japoneses que lo han leído explican que el estilo de este autor es hermético, difícil. Tal vez se trate de lo que él bien llama “buena literatura” o 純文学, y una de las constantes de los tópicos en sus discursos en universidades americanas: Kenzaburo se queja de que el nivel literario de los libros publicados y vendidos en los últimos años ha decaído considerablemente, y en el pack de autores comerciales incluye sin piedad a Murakami y Banana Yoshimoto, que hacen excesivas concesiones a un lector poco exigente. Kenzaburo contrasta esta situación actual con la de posguerra, y conecta la realidad literaria del país con su realidad económica, social y política. La conclusión más atrevida del incendiario literato es que la sociedad, en su afán por imitar a Occidente y su comodidad económica, ha llegado a una decadencia moral y cultural, a una destrucción de cualquier tipo de valores que puedan sobrepasar lo material. En este caso lo moral no se trata de un juicio pacato sobre el comportamiento sexual de los japoneses sino la denuncia de una exclusiva atención a un consumismo occidental de marca, vacío de contenido; y al plagio de modas culturales que en Japón tienen poca aplicación, sólo en aras de una supuesta modernidad de apariencia. La actitud superficial de los escritores, para Kenzaburo, tiene guarda relación con el fenómeno de la tendencia actual de la sociedad japonesa hacia posturas conservadoras y nacionalistas, cerrándose en sí misma frente a una realidad asiática que le debería ser más cercana y a la que debería respetar en lugar de expoliar económicamente. Aunque las conferencias transcritas en este libro son de los años 90, me gustaría ver la cara del Nóbel si pudiera presenciar las controversias actuales sobre las visitas de Koizumi y compañía a Yasukuni, la polémica sobre la enseñanza de actitudes patrióticas en las escuelas públicas e incluso la nueva legislación sobre el control de la inmigración. Es como si el Nóbel hubiera leído en una bola de cristal lo que iba a suceder diez años más tarde.
Uno de mis estudiantes un día me contaba que la cuestión de las Fuerzas de Autodefensa no era más que un eufemismo y que Japón debería tener un Ministerio de Guerra -Defensa- como todos los demás países, y los japoneses tenían derecho a estar orgullosos de serlo. En parte le di la razón, pero argumentos como los de Kenzaburo, unidos a la tendencia de la sociedad japonesa de cerrarse en sí misma para evitar las disensiones dentro de ella, más peligrosas consignas nacionalistas en un país-isla como Japón, pueden llevar a peligrosas posiciones racistas –latentes y no latentes en la actualidad-, e innecesarias tensiones con vecinos históricamente agraviados.
En cuanto a la literatura, creo que es un fenómeno universal: la introducción de lo audiovisual, Internet y los teléfonos móviles en la vida diaria del ciudadano del primer mundo han afectado también a la literatura, haciéndola más ligera, más visual, menos comprometida filosófica y políticamente, más pobre según Kenzaburo. Es la vieja discusión sobre si el pop art es tan arte como el high-brow art.
September 16, 2007
I read this book during my commute time in densha or chikatetsu from/to Chiba-Tokyo. Kenzaburo approach toward self-introspective and psychological theory attract me with his crisp words of choice. Very refreshing! Like going to Sumida River,watching the Summer's Firework/Hanabi while wearing yukata and geta with a paper fan in your hand and sipping kakigoori/syrupi ice.
April 27, 2025
very intuitive analysis of current japanese literature + got some nice entryways to postwar japanese authors
March 28, 2013
One of those inspirational books.
April 23, 2025
Free from the shackles of academia!! At least the course work…
An interesting collection of speeches and lectures from Ōe. I’ll definitely be referring back to this for my research project. Like much of the material I’m using, it’s hard to “rate” something I wouldn’t normally read for leisure (though I might’ve picked this up anyway…). Still, there are some compelling insights here that also reveal Ōe’s own political and social perspective.
3/5
An interesting collection of speeches and lectures from Ōe. I’ll definitely be referring back to this for my research project. Like much of the material I’m using, it’s hard to “rate” something I wouldn’t normally read for leisure (though I might’ve picked this up anyway…). Still, there are some compelling insights here that also reveal Ōe’s own political and social perspective.
3/5
June 10, 2012
Un ensemble de discours bien éclairant sur les enjeux de la littérature japonaise mais qui retrace aussi la trajectoire parcourue par l'auteur et la relation des japonais à leur littérature. Le discours qui m'a le plus intéressée est "De la littérature d'après guerre aux théories de la culture" parce qu'il réside essentiellement sur la question "la littérature japonaise était-elle en train de s'effondrer?" thématique qui montre bien les relations entre Occident et Japon.
February 3, 2008
never read it in english.
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