What do you think?
Rate this book
Fuji
Fuji er en roman, der flår porten til menneskets psyke op. Den er barnet af et grotesk samleje mellem kristendom og buddhisme, et frankensteinmonster sammensat af Dostojevskijs tunge lemmer med et islæt af haiku. Scenen er sat på et psykiatrisk hospital under 2. verdenskrig, hvor en metafysisk krig om virkelighed udkæmpes mellem læger og patienter. Voldsom i sin stilhed er romanen som vulkanen Fuji, den venter blot på at gå i udbrud.
567 pages
Published January 1, 2020
2 people are currently reading
17 people want to read
About the author
Taijun Takeda
7 books2 followersTaijun Takeda ( 武田泰淳, February 12, 1912 – October 5, 1976) was a Japanese novelist and Buddhist priest active as one of the first post-war generation writers, and a noted influencer on Chinese literature.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews
January 21, 2025
In the great production of existential literature, "Fuji" emerges as an opus of unparalleled depth and perspicacity. It's a cognitive pilgrimage - a quest to dissect our understanding of normalcy.
It's a gripping exploration of the bight between societal constructs of rationality and the tumultuous inner realms of those deemed "abnormal." Our narrator is a doctoral intern in a mental hospital who serves not merely as a guide within the institution but also embodies the ethical quandaries of his profession. The poignant thawing of the perceived barriers that segregate the "normal" from the "others" culminates in a dialogue exchanged years later between the doctor and his wife as they leave his previous workplace. "I felt accepted as a normal person there," she reflects, crystallizing the story's inquiry: who is truly the arbiter of normalcy - the amorphous populace that define the parameters, these sovereign delineators of sanity that might, by the way, be enmeshed in a cyclical codependency on those very subjects they seek to categorize - or the outliers that flit beyond the narrow definition?
In a brilliant parallel, the author mirrors the volatile tensions of the Second World War within the microcosm of the mental institution, where the external tumult and brutality of war reflect the internal chaos of psychological strife. The soldiers at the harried frontline, drenched in exhaustion, become metaphorical extensions of the institutionalized patients. Both are victims of circumstances beyond their control - disciplined by societal dictates. Both are ensnared within a system that seeks to redefine them.
The internecine war within the institution may lack the sanguinary violence of the battlefield confrontations. yet it is equally debilitating. The men and women behind the walls battle their own demons, an unrelenting skirmish against the definitions imposed upon them by a society that fears them. Takeda's prose is exquisite, but the genius of this work lies in the striking allegories that permeate the novel. The symptoms of psychosis are analogous to the threatening eruptions of Fuji itself, a looming presence in the periphery of the story.
The dialogues between patients and staff metamorphose into a philosophical battleground reminiscent of Dostoyevsky and Camus, yet with a distinctive vigour that takes the material to new intellectual echelons. Normalcy is portrayed as utterly fluid, an ethereal notion that defies rigid demarcation. The lines separating sanity from insanity are not only blurred but intriguingly indeterminate. The question is not solely whether we can define normalcy but rather whether we should exalt the pursuit of understanding over the comfort of acceptance.
I would proffer this gem to anyone, albeit with a tentative caveat aimed at those who recoil from delving into the darker recesses of the human condition. But oh, how I wish that everyone, including the demographic that shy away from the morose, would read it.
It's a gripping exploration of the bight between societal constructs of rationality and the tumultuous inner realms of those deemed "abnormal." Our narrator is a doctoral intern in a mental hospital who serves not merely as a guide within the institution but also embodies the ethical quandaries of his profession. The poignant thawing of the perceived barriers that segregate the "normal" from the "others" culminates in a dialogue exchanged years later between the doctor and his wife as they leave his previous workplace. "I felt accepted as a normal person there," she reflects, crystallizing the story's inquiry: who is truly the arbiter of normalcy - the amorphous populace that define the parameters, these sovereign delineators of sanity that might, by the way, be enmeshed in a cyclical codependency on those very subjects they seek to categorize - or the outliers that flit beyond the narrow definition?
In a brilliant parallel, the author mirrors the volatile tensions of the Second World War within the microcosm of the mental institution, where the external tumult and brutality of war reflect the internal chaos of psychological strife. The soldiers at the harried frontline, drenched in exhaustion, become metaphorical extensions of the institutionalized patients. Both are victims of circumstances beyond their control - disciplined by societal dictates. Both are ensnared within a system that seeks to redefine them.
The internecine war within the institution may lack the sanguinary violence of the battlefield confrontations. yet it is equally debilitating. The men and women behind the walls battle their own demons, an unrelenting skirmish against the definitions imposed upon them by a society that fears them. Takeda's prose is exquisite, but the genius of this work lies in the striking allegories that permeate the novel. The symptoms of psychosis are analogous to the threatening eruptions of Fuji itself, a looming presence in the periphery of the story.
The dialogues between patients and staff metamorphose into a philosophical battleground reminiscent of Dostoyevsky and Camus, yet with a distinctive vigour that takes the material to new intellectual echelons. Normalcy is portrayed as utterly fluid, an ethereal notion that defies rigid demarcation. The lines separating sanity from insanity are not only blurred but intriguingly indeterminate. The question is not solely whether we can define normalcy but rather whether we should exalt the pursuit of understanding over the comfort of acceptance.
I would proffer this gem to anyone, albeit with a tentative caveat aimed at those who recoil from delving into the darker recesses of the human condition. But oh, how I wish that everyone, including the demographic that shy away from the morose, would read it.
January 26, 2023
Note: This review is made after completing 35% of the book.
I struggled so much reading this book. I appreciate the "dostevjeskian" way of of trying to investigate the human psyche in and around an mental institution in Japan. However, in my opinion the execution is very poorly done. Every thought from patients is written staccato, meaning very thoughts in themselves, but no really connection with the following thought. It made it an abysmal to read. There was some connection the the philosophy/thought of the doctors.
I simply gave up as the whole content was too artificial and not interesting.
Maybe it is rewarding to read to the end, but that will not be me
I struggled so much reading this book. I appreciate the "dostevjeskian" way of of trying to investigate the human psyche in and around an mental institution in Japan. However, in my opinion the execution is very poorly done. Every thought from patients is written staccato, meaning very thoughts in themselves, but no really connection with the following thought. It made it an abysmal to read. There was some connection the the philosophy/thought of the doctors.
I simply gave up as the whole content was too artificial and not interesting.
Maybe it is rewarding to read to the end, but that will not be me
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 reviews