Yıldız

by Yukio Mishima, Vaner Alper (Translator)

Rikio gençliğinin baharında bir oyuncu. Ünlü olmaktan ve ona mektuplar gönderen, uzaktan adını haykıran hayranları olmasından görünüşte çok memnun. Kamera karşısında bir süreliğine bir başkasına dönüşen Rikio, setten uzaklaştığındaysa bir yıldız olmanın ne demek olduğunu sorgulamaya ve absürd, yüzeysel varoluşuyla yüzleşmeye başlar. Yukio Mişima’nın bir yakuza filminde rol aldıktan sonra yazdığı Yıldız, Japon edebiyatının sıra dışı yazarından şöhreti ve yabancılaşmayı anlatan çarpıcı bir hikâye.

Genres: Fiction, Japan, Japanese Literature, Short Stories, Classics, Novella, Literary Fiction

72 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1961

About the author

Yukio Mishima (三島 由紀夫) was born in Tokyo in 1925. He graduated from Tokyo Imperial University’s School of Jurisprudence in 1947. His first published book, The Forest in Full Bloom, appeared in 1944 and he established himself as a major author with Confessions of a Mask (1949). From then until his death he continued to publish novels, short stories, and plays each year. His crowning achievement, the Sea of Fertility tetralogy—which contains the novels Spring Snow (1969), Runaway Horses (1969), The Temple of Dawn (1970), and The Decay of the Angel (1971)—is considered one of the definitive works of twentieth-century Japanese fiction. In 1970, at the age of forty-five and the day after completing the last novel in the Fertility series, Mishima committed seppuku (ritual suicide)—a spectacular death that attracted worldwide attention.

Reviews

[Tim · Rating 5 out of 5]

"For a star, being seen is everything. But the powers that be are well aware that being seen is no more than a symptom of the gaze. They know that the reality everyone thinks they see and feel draws from the spring of artifice that you and I are guarding. To keep the public pacified, the spring must always be shielded from the world of masks. And these masks are worn by stars.

But the real world is always waiting for its stars to die. If you never cycle out the masks, you run the risk of poisoning the well. The demand for new masks is insatiable."

This is an absolutely fascinating shorter work from Mishima. It follows a young actor who is filming a yakuza film. There's not much of a plot, more like an examination of what it means to be a celebrity, how people view him/how he views others and how the film industry worked in Japan at the time. This is all the more fascinating as Mishima himself wrote it right after acting in a film titled "Afraid to Die" in which he played, you guessed it, a yakuza. It makes for an interesting parallel with his own life and several of the topics that seemed to dominate it.

This may be an unpopular opinion, but I think this may be my favorite book by Mishima. I said in my review of The Sailor Who Fell From the Grace of the Sea a few months back that it was my current favorite, I will now revise that opinion to the best written of his books that I've read. I do believe the other is a "better" book, but there's something about Star that really worked for me. As I said, there's little in terms of plot, and it's extremely short, but there's an urgency to it… as if he needs to express something and can't quite put it to words that I find fascinating. A rare 5/5 stars

[Meike · Rating 4 out of 5]

This intelligent novella is mesmerizing and serves up almost all Mishima tropes in under 100 pages - beauty, death, love, youth, and everything is rendered in haunting ambivalence. Our protagonist Rikio is a 24-year-old movie star, in the prime of his career and his looks: Fans freak out when they see him, women can hardly contain themselves, everyone wants to hire him and turn him into an advertisement. But his occupation is getting to him: His job is to disappear behind a mask (get it? Confessions of a Mask), to help create an un-reality, to exist in a realm without linear time, where life is out of sequence (because that's how a movie is usually shot) and actions become inconsequential. His constant tiredness appears to be both an effect of his work schedule and his depression.

Rikio seems to be longing for something real (although that's not how he, the narrator, puts it): His lover is not some beautiful actress or model, but his assistant and make-up artist Kayo who consciously makes efforts to undermine conventional beauty standards, sporting silver teeth and making herself appear to be older than she is. With her, he attains a version of happiness, laughing at the pretense he is involved him, but Rikio is still plagued by a very real fear of aging and decay, by a possible future that might be less than the present. Where to go from here? As this is Mishima, beautiful Rikio is of course longing for death as a form of...self-empowerment? Deliverance? Art? The reader decides.

So this short text meditates about the appeal and the emptiness of beauty, the power of the mask, the longing for something real while attempting the impossible. This is certainly not Mishima's best effort, but it's an intriguing variation on some of his obsessions.

[Flo · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is the most friendly Mishima that I've read. It isn't violent, and the commentary about fame is more relevant than ever. But it has even more layers than it looks at first glance. For example, there is an actual movie told through the scenes that our protagonist (an actor) films. I also think that I've never seen a more empathetic Mishima. The novella gave me strong Dazai vibes. I don't want to exaggerate, but this may actually offer more than his usual frozen beauty.

[emily · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Do you want to be human now like everybody else? Stop being so predictable. The real world can’t wait for you to die.”

My very first Mishima – and it messed my head up like a surprise hit from a baby Glock, and for a whole week I toyed with the phantom bullet from this sublime experience – so ‘shook’, but so satisfied. So much so that I gave it a quick second read just before typing this review. I rated it a 4-star the first time I read it, but an impulsive second reading bumped it up to a 4.5. Most readers tend to describe Mishima/his work as either too ‘mad’ and/ too much of everything. But I think of him an art ho setting his own life on fire, and then living as intensely as one possibly can; living in the wrong time period, and I love him for all that.

“Just as evil never dies, neither does the sentimental. Like suckerfish clinging to the belly of a shark, threads of permanence cling to the underbelly of all formulaic poetry. It comes as a false shadow, the refuse of originality, the body dragged around by genius. It’s the light that flashes from a tin roof with a tawdry grace. A tragic swiftness only the superficial can possess. That elaborate beauty and pathos offered only by an undiscerning soul. A crude confession, like a sunset that backlights clumsy silhouettes. I love any story guarded by these principles, with this poetry at its core.”

In this short but rich novella, he achieved what Murakami was trying too hard to do in his latest short story collection, First Person Singular: Stories (in particular, his story, ‘Carnaval’ – which I had enjoyed then (my review) , but it is hard to make a fair comparison simply because Mishima is very definitely on a whole other league when it comes to writing about aesthetics, desire, sex and the sublime). Mishima reminds me of Bataille (one of my favourite writers; also Bjork’s – for the experimental/bizarre ‘psychosexual perversion’ which she borrows and uses in her music – CM ) – all that death and sex? Yes, but make it sublime, and poetic as fuck.

“It was as if the overdose was not about her death at all, but the death of the woman who had been so rigid during the test run… the thin layer of muscle under her skin convulsed. A ribbon of blood dribbled from the needle. Her voice grew shriller still. The yells were real. She gritted her clean, straight teeth. All eyes were on Yuri! Her expression was shameless, every inch of her exposed. But with her return to consciousness, she found herself back in the disgraces of this bright and garish world.”

The protagonist is a young actor in his prime. It’s easy to think of him as a ‘psychopath’ like the protagonist in American Psycho (which I've started to roll my eyes at now that I’ve come across more and more books/characters who are written much better). But he’s much more than that; he’s so ordinary – almost too ordinary (without his ‘fame’) except his impulses and thoughts are raw, unfiltered and amplified a thousand times more. Mishima’s exploration of social classes, societal discontents, and the absurdity of ‘stardom’ in this novella is done so brilliantly. I’ve yet to read Astral Season, Beastly Season by Tahi Saihate (which I believe tread on very similar themes), but I imagine I’ll be making a close comparison when I catch up with Saihate’s. The structure of the novella/plot is fascinating and extremely well done. Not only does Mishima explore about the light/darkness of ‘stardom’ but also the invisible masks that the actors/people put on every day for different roles – at work but also in real life – and how it is inevitable for the lines overlap and blur.

“That night, back in my bedroom, Kayo did something awful that the average person would never allow. But I was fine with it and did more than just allow it… Every move she makes is resolute, a vow to resist the pull of tragedy, to poke fun at every situation, no matter how painful or grave, like someone flicking a watermelon to hear the sound it makes before they buy it. Her laughter was potent enough to scorch the grass for miles around, to putrefy a field of ripe red strawberries.”

The protagonist and his assistant, Kayo fucks one another every now and then (not a spoiler as it is revealed very early on) for cheap entertain, but minor transgressions to/from their ‘roles’ in the novella make one wonder if this is just an ‘aesthetic’ or if it is some kind of twisted ‘love’ (in the conventional sense of the word). This is made even less clear by the ‘cinematic’, and vibrant the descriptions/scenes/writing is – think of the films by Wong Kar-Wai/Hou Hsiao-Hsien, but with entirely different scripts – playing with complex romantic notions of sheer existence (and otherwise)? In the excerpt above, the protagonist and Kayo fucks each other while thinking about his fan’s suicide attempt – like as if they’re just getting off on the concept of their own influence/‘power’. He views the fan’s suicide attempt as a performance – for aesthetics’ sake, and then Kayo performs part of the act (mocking his fan for her own pleasure) which turns into a source of pleasure for the both of them. Isn’t it all a performance then, an act? All actors, on different stages. Who is to say which one’s more valuable/more meaningful? As long as we experience ‘the sublime’ – then the job’s done, ain’t it? Is it just art then; and/but it eventually just trickles into the bottomless sea of ethics and morality, doesn’t it? Mishima explores this further in his non-fiction writing in Sun & Steel.

“The farmer’s daughters in the fan clubs were always asking me, “What’s it like to be a star?” It amazed me how these clubs managed to attract so many ugly girls. Sometimes they even had cripples. You’d have a real hard time going out on the street and rounding up a group of girls that ugly. All I’m saying is they could carry on about their own dreams all they wanted, but there was no way I could tell them how it felt to live inside one.”

“Staring off into space, her plump arms bare, she drew shapes on the tatami with her fingers and practiced her one line to herself over and over. I hate witnessing ambition, even in a woman. I had to look away.”

The characterisation in this novella is absolutely stunning – esp. with the protagonist – complicated art ho with shit tons of ‘clout’. Even though he is satisfied/at ease with the company/presence of Kayo who he thinks of as ‘ugly’, he thinks of his fans and co-workers in a very different light (but describing them with a similar sense of ‘ugliness’). This is where I was convinced that Murakami lost his touch/control in his short story (where he attempts to explore ‘aesthetics’/the sublime), ‘Carnaval’, while Mishima absolutely killed it in this novella – with so much precision and elegance. He’s a lot like Bataille, except a lot more elegant, and meticulous in his writing/style. Every sentence in the novella is beautifully written, and very obviously intentional. He allows room for self-contradiction and more (when it comes to ‘aesthetics’) which may make for a frustrating read for some, but I enjoyed the complexity of it all. It makes it more ‘real’, but also gives more sides to the character.

“I was once more overtaken by a deep fatigue; my thoughts returned to death. If I was going to die, now would be as good a time as any. Rather than a death cushioned by pleasure, I would die embracing a despicable filth. Cheek in the gutter, curled up against the corpse of a stray cat.”

The protagonist’s relationship with death/suicide is an interesting one that (if one decides to overthink it) reminds one of Mishima’s own suicide. The protagonist thinks too much about it instead of just doing it – in an impulsive, casual way. He drags it – on and on – wanting it to be perfect and aesthetically on point/tailored to his taste. It’s not just the existential dread that nudges him to think about death/suicide, but also his boredom (as an entertainer), since the thirst for entertainment is insatiable (consumerist society, and etc). The inevitable sense of being an ‘outsider’ as a ‘star’/actor encourages his dissociation. He feels zero responsibility and little interest/affection for the ‘real world’/ordinary people, yet he is repulsed by the higher society. And amidst all of that slow and quiet chaos, the only thing that keeps him afloat is his half-arsed, convenient relationship with Kayo. The novella ends with a cheap and gaudy expression – a greeting-card declaration of ‘love’; and fades out preserving the protagonist’s youth and fame. Even if you’re not in the mood for its darker/deeper layers, it’s still undeniable a beautiful work of art on the surface. I’m still in so much awe of the writing, and I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to read a Mishima. One down, and surely many more to go.

“If you saw a woman drowning in the water, would you make sure she was beautiful before diving in to save her?”

For a multi-sensory experience, these three songs can enhance the vibe/mood of the novella (in this exact order, and on repeat if you wish):
Bucku Bucku – MFBTY
Suicide – Paul McCartney
Power – Greta Isaac

“Real love always plays out at a distance.”

[Nocturnalux]

Mishima is known for a lot of things but there is one particular aspect to his oeuvre that I do not think gets as much attention as it deserves, namely, the ways in which he anticipated some of his country's modern traumas, inner conflicts and peculiar schisms of all kinds.

In this very short book, he tackles Idol culture before there was a term to it; I am not sure it had even been identified as such or whether it had fully coalesced as such at this point: but it was very much in the making with its core elements firmly in place. By Idol culture I mean a very specific kind of Eastern Asian fandom in which singers/dancers/actors are beholden to a standard of extreme youth (careers start in the early teens and for women are over around 30; men can last longer but there is a clear cutting point) and beauty that they are expected to express at any and all times. It follows that they are denied any sense of a private life, often exploited and overworked, and seen as the literal possessions of the adoring fans who see fit to intrude on very private issues.

When Star was written, this angle of the Idol belonging to the fans had yet to develop into the borderline psychosis it has since become but there are enough hints of what is to come to make this one nothing short of prescient.

As of late, reflections of the negative impacts of Idol culture- although it does not always goes by this name- have come to the front, spurred in particular by the recent suicide of several Korean Idols. Mishima's take is a bemused one that only accentuates the darkness beneath all the glitz and glitter. At the end of the day, this is about a great emptiness of reducing everything to a surface until there is no breathing room or any inner space- or inner anything, for that matter- just a great vacuum of constantly replaceable images, all conveying precisely nothing but a flashy moment, all produced on an industrial scale.

Amidst all this, we get to see some interesting details into filmmaking, something Mishima would know from personal experience, having worked on set several times. The heightened, syrupy sentimentality of a certain kind of cinema is linked directly to the technical innovations of the time that allowed for a more immersive- and thus potentially more manipulative- experience on the part of the viewer.

It occurred to me that Mishima's insight on manga, as a means of Japanese visual production, would have been very interesting, more likely than not. I do not think Mishima ever commented on manga so it is mere speculation but one can always wonder.

[Blair · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very brief Japanese novella (novelette?) about Rikio, also known as Richie, a successful young actor who is ambivalent about the prizes of fame. Star was originally published in 1961; this is the first English translation. The author, who also worked as an actor and model, wrote it shortly after playing the lead in a yazuka film.

Many readers will be familiar with the sensation of simultaneously craving and loathing attention: in Rikio’s case it’s exaggerated to extremes. He is adored by fans, and – as he tells us at the beginning – loves to see them lining up, dressed in the style he has popularised. Yet at times, the crowds disgust him so much he is driven to violent fantasies:

I was exhausted. The girls could scream their way to hell for all I cared. Their shrill voices splashed over me like rancid oil. If only I could line them up and march them all into the mouth of an incinerator. Only they’d probably crawl out of the ashes gawking at me. First I’d have to pluck their eyes out.

Rikio is cut off from most of the world. He maintains a sexual relationship with his make-up artist, Kayo, an older woman whom he finds ugly. When she organises a birthday party for him, he knows from the beginning that he won’t attend: ‘showing up is for second-rate actors who have lost their edge’. Only while filming does he come alive, ‘in the surge of imaginary time’, where reality is temporarily suspended. ‘Only there could I breathe easy, talk of death without fear, and die without suffering.’

The last 20 or so pages lack the laser focus of the rest, and the story ends abruptly – but not without a note of its own brand of cinematic horror. Rikio’s despair leaves the reader with a sense of dread that’s difficult to dispel.

This is one of those books so short I’m unconvinced it really needs to be published as a standalone, but there’s no denying it’s a striking piece of work, sharp and ruthlessly honest. Having been unfamiliar with Yukio Mishima’s work prior to this, I found it an excellent introduction.

I received an advance review copy of Star from the publisher through Edelweiss.

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[Matthew Ted · Rating 3 out of 5]

104th book of 2020.

I was saying to a friend I fancy reading another Mishima, but have read all the ones I own. Then, I remembered, that is not the case. This is a short, and somewhat odd book by the Japanese legend.

Though I don't watch a lot of cinema, nor has it ever particularly interested me, there are two things that interest me about it. The process of film-making I find fascinating, especially in an artistic sense, with photography and cinematography. The other, the people who walk those circles - the actors themselves (actors, now being a unisex term).

And though this wasn't quite as interesting as other books about this walk of life (Prater Violet,The Day of the Locust), it had Mishima's charm. The writing is not as intense or beautiful as some of his other more seminal works - The Temple of the Golden Pavilion, Spring Snow - it is still engaging, and not without some interesting Mishima philosophy I am now used to: Real love always plays out at a distance.

Suicide features too, which knowing Mishima's biography, becomes even more haunting and, sickly, fascinating, in the same way I noticed, again and again, the suicide in Hemingway's work. Indeed, Orson Welles said that he had always been fascinated by it, no doubt, from Hemingway's father taking his own life. Mishima really is a fascinating writer, in his work, and in his person.

[Alan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Short review for a short book. My second Mishima, and I do plan to finish his works available in English. I know a bit about his life, his death, and phew. Yeah, it’s in there. While themes that played out in his life are obviously on display here, I want to be sure not to draw too much upon that fact. As Mencken put it (or some variation of the quote, anyhow): “For every complex problem, there is an answer that is clear, simple, and wrong.” But the book is worth it, if only to reflect on stardom, life behind the scenes for an adored movie star, and the pangs of suicidal ideation.

My favourite bit from the book:

“In the pale light of midnight’s foggy street,
I’m haunted by the goodbye in your eyes.”

Who would ever notice that this cheap and tired lyric has terms so rigid not a single word could be replaced? People permit its existence because they think it’s harmless and derivative, with the lifespan of a mayfly, but in fact it’s the only thing that’s certain to survive. Just as evil never dies, neither does the sentimental. Like suckerfish clinging to the belly of a shark, threads of permanence cling to the underbelly of all formulaic poetry. It comes as a false shadow, the refuse of originality, the body dragged around by genius. It’s the light that flashes from a tin roof with a tawdry grace. A tragic swiftness only the superficial can possess. That elaborate beauty and pathos offered only by an undiscerning soul. A crude confession, like a sunset that backlights clumsy silhouettes. I love any story guarded by these principles, with this poetry at its core.

[daph pink ♡ · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoy watching movies, and I've always been intrigued by the lives of actors away from the screen. Richie, an aspiring actor, describes one such existence in this novella. I chose to read a shorter book because it was my first Mishima novel and I wanted to get a sense of his tone and content. We observe East Asian cinema's fixation with idol culture and physical attractiveness. I found Kayo (Richie's assistant and girlfriend) to be very endearing; both her philosophy on life and her part in their relationship were fascinating and thought-provoking.

[Tosh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not a major Yukio Mishima novella, but nevertheless an interesting book by the performing author. He wrote this book after starring in the film "Afraid to Die" which I guess inspired him to look at the role of a movie star or famous figure in contemporary times. Mishima is endlessly fascinating, and this little book is one of many that shows cracks into his psyche or the way he looks at the world.

[7jane · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rikio Mizuno, turning 24 during his last days of filming a slightly romantic yakuza film, is confronted by the absurdity of his existence as a popular movie star.
This is the plot of this short novella, a brutal dissection of fame, and of the actor’s realisation that looks can fade. His career has picked up well, and he still has a good career ahead if he’s lucky.

His assistant, Kayo Futoda, with her silver front teeth and reveling in her ‘ugliness’, is super dedicated to him, and they occasionally sleep together. She likes mockery, being sneaky, and is seen knitting an ugly turquoise sweater while film is being made. To me, she is his ‘biggest fan’, but as the story progresses, some level of uneasiness sneaks in. Unlike the adoring fans who crowd the places outside filming scenes, she no doubt will stay faithfully with him… but then, what kind of love life can he find this way? True that he still lives with his parents, and he’s still new enough not to need a serious relationship, but eventually what will happen? And the part where he visits a high society party shows that at least on that level, he won’t find one (even if he can act in a movie set among such people) – he’s sees as not worth the attention, and beneath them.

The film work is hard, and draining, and he does worry that it could age him. The question of what is real, reality, is one of the themes, but aging could be another, rising especially at the end, when he sees another, older male actor, still handsome but showing already signs of aging, and sees his own future. Earlier than that, he has a sudden desire for death, but it’s not super seriously, and Kayo can sense it… though how it will be in a few years’ time?

So: what will happen in the future, reader might be left wondering. But I certainly don’t see much appeal in being a movie star in this film world – hard work, demanding director (nothing new in that), less-good fellow actors, etc. Still, it’s a picture of a star wondering on what’s really the right reality to prefer, how he will deal with aging fears – but also grateful at his assistant’s presence, who fits within his state of mind right now well (though how long will it stay that good). A quick, thought-provoking read.

[Hulyacln · Rating 4 out of 5]

“...o ince düşünülmüş güzellik ve hüzün. Ahmakça davranışlarla ortaya çıkabilecek akşam kızıllığı gibi bayağı bir lirizm...Bütün bunlarla korunan, bütün bu kurallara sadık hikayelere aşığım ben.”
.
24 yaşında, zamanı- güzelliği - doğası bile bölünüp parçalara ayrılmış bir oyuncu Rikio.
Görenlerin gözlerini kamaştıran, ulaşılmaz, yalnızca istediğinde parlayan bir yıldız..
Görünen aldatıcıdır bilirsiniz.
Rikio’yu gördüğünüzü sanıyorsanız da aldanıyorsunuz.
Belki Kayo olmanız gerekiyor..
.
Yukio Mişima bu novellada yine erkek güzelliğini anlatıyor. Uçuculuğu, güzelliğin yakıcılığını da.. Damakta kalan bir öykü, sağlam bir karakter analizi..
.
Ve “o bir tanrıydı, güzelliğin cisim bulmuş haliydi, ne yaparsa yapsın suç sayılamayacak bir varlıktı ama tek bir büyük suç işlemişti: yaşlanma suçu!”
Mişima o suçu işlemedi.
45 yaşında, hala güzelken ve hala güçlüyken ölümü seçti.
Belki de suçu bu olmalı.
Erken gitmek..

[Meltem Sağlam · Rating 5 out of 5]

Gerçek dünya ile uydurma bir dünyanın rüyamsı güzelliğinin karşılaştırıldığı bir anlatı.

Mişimanın dehasının bir ürünü daha. İnanılmaz psikolojik analizler ve detay gibi görünen felsefi tespitler, 72 sayfalık bir metni devasa bir esere dönüştürmüş.

Yazarın genel çizgisinden farklılık gösteren iki eserinden birisi olduğunu düşünüyorum.

[merixien · Rating 3 out of 5]

“Sıradanlıktan bir saniye bile uzaklaşsa silinip yok olacak bu şiirsellik işte böyle hikayelerin içinde gizlenir. Ancak endişeye mahal yok! Böyle şiirleri fark etmemek gerekir; onları görmezden geldiğimizde, işte ancak o zaman yayılır etrafa. Şansımıza, sinema dünyasında filmlerin büyük çoğunluğu her şeyi görmezden gelerek çekiliyor.”

Yukio Mişima’nın “Afraid to Die” isimli yakuza filminde oynadıktan sonra yazdığı bir novella. 23 yaşında, varoluş krizi yaşayan yıldız Rikio üzerinden (hatta kendi yaşadığı yaşlanma korkusuyla harmanlayarak); şöhret, yabancılaşma, geçici güzellik, zaman ve maskeler üzerine bir hikaye sunmuş. Diğer Mişima romanları gibi dünyanızı sarsmıyor ama keyifli bir kısa okuma sunuyor.

“Geleceği düşünmek bana esasen anlamsız, fanteziden ibaret geliyor. Kirli işlerden elini, eteğini çekmiş yakuzalar gibi, ben çoktandır o dünyadan kopardım kendimi. Artık gelecek hayalleri kurmama hiç gerek yok. Hayal kurmak, sinemanın o lanet olası adi kağıt biletini alan seyircilerin hakkı, benim öyle bir hakkım yok.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was cute!

I am not sure why they didn't give us the original Japanese title: "'Star' was published in Japan in 1961 in a short story collection of the same name." ... I assume it had a title in Japanese, though? Was it 'Star' written in katakana? Or the Japanese word.... which is hoshi? If it was hoshi, then I presume that this isn't 'Utsukushii hoshi' (美しい星) ... cos I think that's Mishima's (only?) sci-fi? And this wasn't sci-fi.

Apparently another Mishima is coming later this year!? Everyone's getting excited because next year is 50 years since the Mishima Incident?

Bits:
"I was their model and their aspiration, the mold that gave them shape. ... Once a mold has finished casting its share of copies, it cools and becomes deformed and useless."

"Compared to this variety of time, the hours of ordinary life were no more than a worn and tattered obi unwinding from the waist."

"No matter how serious the obligation, a star is more of a star if he never arrives. Absence is his forte."

"The people wait for me, checking their watches, standing at their doorsteps, but I am a speeding that never stops. I'm huge, shiny, and new, coming from the other side of midnight. My gliding mass is strangely solid for a phantom, clad in a metal that's lighter than air. ... I ride and ride and never arrive."

"Given the choice, I'd much rather have a girl masturbating somewhere to my picture than actually trying to sleep with me. Real love always plays out at a distance."

[Anita Pomerantz · Rating 3 out of 5]

Star is an interesting novella that for me evokes a short story much more than a novel. Readers who are short story fans (I am!) will definitely like this tale of a young movie actor, Rikio, who is worshiped by his adoring fans. Rikio has an unlikely "relationship" with his assistant, who in some ways grounds him and in other ways bolsters him. Star draws a picture where reality and imagination blur in interesting ways that I look forward to discussing further with other readers. If this is a taste of Mishima, I'd like to go back for more of a true meal.

[luce (cry bebè's back from hiatus) · Rating 3 out of 5]

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Although first published in 1961 this feverish novella explores themes that are still being explored today such as celebrity fandom. The protagonist of the story is a 'star' and we soon see that he struggles with maintaining the persona of famous and beloved actor. Although Rikio enjoys his fame he also begins to feel disconnected from his own self, almost loosing himself in the roles he takes and, as his story progresses, his identity seems to disintegrate.
Because of his cynic outlook Rikio sounds much older than he is. There are moments in which he seems a passive participant in his own life, observing with mild distaste what other people do and criticising his contemporary Japanese society. The only person that seems 'visible' to him is his make-up artist, a woman who is older than him. The two seem to poke fun at the way the film-industry works and at Rikio's adoring fans.
Much of what Rikio experiences and thinks comes across as being somewhat surreal or even as being part of a larger hallucination. As Rikio narrative becomes increasingly affected by his anxiousness over his career and life, I found myself feeling almost paranoid alongside him.

Overall, although this was far from 'enjoyable' it was an interesting and short piece of writing that might appeal those readers who have watched and appreciated Satoshi Kon's Perfect Blue.

[George Ilsley · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Like suckerfish clinging to the belly of a shark, threads of permanence cling to the underbelly of all formulaic poetry.”

This short novel by Yukio Mishima (1925-1970) has only recently become available in English.

A young actor, a celebrity, muses on the fleeting nature of life and the masks we all must wear. Trust the artifice, Mishima advises, through the words of the star’s assistant, Kayo. Kayo, we are told, is probably the better actor, and her cruel mimicry of fans and costars cements the co-dependant bond with her employer. Their relationship, seemingly, operates behind the masks.

Mishima was a celebrity in Japan, an actor, writer, director, provocateur — and this text is based on his knowledge of stardom and moviemaking.

But Kayo, the actor's sharp cynical assistant, is really the shining star in this show, and I wish Mishima had written more characters like her.

[pato]

psychosexual and surreal novella abt celebrity and the layers of ones identity being encased or stripped back by the gaze of others, looking at where desire stems from and what happens when it can’t be acted upon.
over 60 years old but feels so modern, another notch on his belt of being a generational talent truly ahead of his time.

[Steven R. Kraaijeveld · Rating 4 out of 5]

"The piercing fidelity of the landscape must have meant that I was watching from the gates of death. What I saw was as comprehensive as memory, poor and wretched as a memory, as quiet, as fluorescent. I was putting it together in the way you would before you die, a last attempt to connect the life flashing before you with an acute vision of the future. I let the neon wash over me, knowing this was something I could never see again. I was no longer on a set, but in an undeniable reality, a layer within the strata of my memory." (39-40)

[nathan · Rating 4 out of 5]

*3.5 rounded up

“𝘏𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘹𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶? 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦? 𝘚𝘵𝘰𝘱 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦, 𝘵𝘰𝘰…𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯. 𝘐𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘯𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦𝘵 𝘣𝘺 𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯.”

Saying it here,
Saying it now,
Mishima is a closeted queen who let the his toxic masculinity get the best of him by believing woman as object and man as hedonistic vessel are ways of existing, simply, as man. The admiration he writes for men in contrast to the way women are sexed and objectified give truth to the softcore yaoi he wanted so much for himself. He only ever wanted tenderness from fellow man. Not even doggy-style, just a kiss! A hug! A caress of the thigh.
And hell, to dedicate a piece of camp to showbiz is truly the gayest thing you could ever do. Hell, he should’ve fleshed this out as a great big golden age Hollywood romp of hedonism—full gay on display—and it would’ve been the best thing he ever wrote in his career.

But here, for its time and for what it is, playfully plays with the duality of self, in front of the mask and behind it, to present the illusion as it is — simply an illusion, that peddles the usual Mishima tropes of life, sex, and death. But here, the theatrics of it go down smooth like a nice bourbon on a weekday happy hour. How could you not love that?

I love a bit of pocket camp in my gay ass trousers. (Referring to the fun-sized metrics of the book’s physical embodiment!)

“𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘺𝘤𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦.
𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘥𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺. 𝘙𝘶𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘷𝘦𝘪𝘯, 𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥, 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦.”

[Cherlynn | cherreading · Rating 1 out of 5]

Am I missing something?

Translated novels are tricky because more often than not, it feels like things always get lost in translation. I'm not sure if this was the case here but I certainly did not connect with this book in any way. The synopsis makes the plot sound more compelling than it actually is but the themes are poorly executed; I didn't have much of a takeaway from it and the reading experience was lacking. The only good thing was this is a short read.

[Mariuca · Rating 4 out of 5]

Daca vrei sa fii de-a pururea o masca noua, trebuie sa respecti invataturile mele secrete: sa blestemi mereu, din tot sufletul, lumea reala, s-o iei in batjocura, sa crezi in minciuna.

[aybikimben]

yukio mişima!! i know what you are👁️👁️kadınları rahat bırak

[Amber · Rating 2 out of 5]

I usually like stories with unlikable MCs, but this one was not my cup of tea. It was existential whining and overall felt like pretentious word dump. There were small aspects of the story that I liked, just not enough to make me like the book as a whole.

I need to stop reading books with famous people...

[Neli Krasimirova · Rating 4 out of 5]

Can Yayınları bu kitabı yayımladığında kapağının diğer Mişima kapaklarına benzememesinden sebep hafif bir memnuniyetsizlik yaşadım ama seri kendi içinde tutarlı olduğundan el mahkum bu seriyi de biriktirmeye başladım ve 2021’in ilk okuması olarak bu novellayı seçtim.
Yazarın kendisinin bir yakuzayı canlandırdığı filmin ardından kaleme aldığı “kamera arkası” hikayesi bu. Kısa, ancak bir Mişima okuduğunuzdan asla şüphe ettirmeyen keskinlikte bir metin. Karakterle bir bütünleşip bir yabancılaştığınız o tekinsizliğe sürüklüyor sizi.
“Az zamanım var ve kitap okuduğuma pişman olmak istemiyorum” fikrine hizmet eden bir kitap olmuş.
*
"Onlar yaratıcılığın gölgesi, özgün düşüncenin atığı, dâhi bir sanatçının sürüklemek zorunda kaldığı cesetlerdir. Salt ucuzluk kokan, teneke kaplı çatıların lütfettiği bir parıldama. Ancak içi boş şeylerle mümkün, trajik bir hız. Ancak ayrıntıları es geçen insanların sunabileceği, o ince düşünülmüş güzellik ve hüzün. Ahmakça davranışlarla ortaya çıkabilecek akşam kızıllığı gibi bayağı bir lirizm..."

[Mack · Rating 5 out of 5]

the novella is the perfect form and mishima is so cutting!

[Onur Y · Rating 3 out of 5]

Yazarın dili dışında büyüleyici bir şey yok. Görünüş vs. Gerçeklik teması üzerine kısa bir metin.

[Deanna Autumn · Rating 3 out of 5]

Memorable quote:

"The very thing that makes a star spectacular is the same thing that strikes him from the world at large and makes him an outsider." -Rikio "Richie" Mizuno

[Oğuzhan Kalelioğlu · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mişimayı zaten çok severek okuyorum. Bu Novella'yı da yine çok severek okudum.
Ara ara kafasında ölüm düşünceleri geçen ve biraz da insanlara tepeden bakan genç bir film yıldızını konu alan bir kitap. Zaman zaman hangimiz düşünmüyor ki ?

Sonunu siz doldurun demiş sanki Mişima .


"Öleceksem bundan iyi bir zaman yok sanki.
Benim ölümümü kolaylaştıracak şey böyle keskin bir tiksinme olmalı , rahatlık değil.
Sokakta rastladığım bir kedi ölüsüne yanaklarımı sürterek ölmek gibi."

Filmi'de en kısa sürede izleyeceğim.
Keyifli Okumalar.