Patriotism

by Yukio Mishima, Geoffrey W. Sargent (Translator)

By now, Yukio Mishima’s (1925-1970) dramatic demise through an act of seppuku after an inflammatory public speech has become the stuff of literary legend. With Patriotism , Mishima was able to give his heartwrenching patriotic idealism an immortal vessel. A lieutenant in the Japanese army comes home to his wife and informs her that his closest friends have become mutineers. He and his beautiful loyal wife decide to end their lives together. In unwavering detail Mishima describes Shinji and Reiko making love for the last time and the couple’s seppuku that follows.

Genres: Fiction, Japan, Short Stories, Japanese Literature, Literature, Historical Fiction, Classics

60 pages, Paperback

First published January 30, 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

[Traveller · Rating 4 out of 5]

Mishima addressing the troops before withdrawing to commit seppuku.

***
On the twenty-eighth of February, 1936 (on the third day, that is, of the February 26 Incident), Lieutenant Shinji Takeyama of the Konoe Transport Battalion—profoundly disturbed by the knowledge that his closest colleagues had been with the mutineers from the beginning, and indignant at the imminent prospect of Imperial troops attacking Imperial troops- took his officer’s sword and ceremonially disemboweled himself in the eight-mat room of his private residence in the sixth block of Aoba-cho, in Yotsuya Ward.

His wife, Reiko, followed him, stabbing herself to death. The lieutenant’s farewell note consisted of one sentence: “Long live the Imperial Forces.” His wife’s, after apologies for her unfilial conduct in thus preceding her parents to the grave, concluded: “The day which, for a soldier’s wife, had to come, has come. . . .” The last moments of this heroic and dedicated couple were such as to make the gods themselves weep.

The lieutenant’s age, it should be noted, was thirty-one, his wife’s twenty-three; and it was not half a year since the celebration of their marriage.

***

Thus the story opens.


The February 26 rebellion mentioned in this novella, was a true event. The Niniroku Jiken Incident (or the February 26 Incident), was an attempted coup d'état in Japan on 26 February 1936, organized by a group of young Imperial Japanese Army officers with the goal of purging the government and military leadership of their factional rivals and ideological opponents.

The hero of the story of the novella, the fictional Lieutenant Takeyama, feels that it is more honorable to commit ritual suicide than to have to choose between loyalty to his comrades and loyalty to the Emperor, by whom he is ordered take action against the rebels.

But the novella is a foreshadowing of yet another event, an even stranger one, instigated by Yukio Mishima himself.

Yukio Mishima is an icon of Japanese cultural life. Flamboyant, romantic, eccentric, he was also an intensely idealistic and political person. It is beyond the scope of an article on this story to deal with his life and politics in detail, but the way in which Mishima ended his own life, was a strange echo of the way in which the hero of this novella ended his life.

On November 25, 1970, the Japanese author and playwright Yukio Mishima committed seppuku in an attempted military coup. Mishima had planned his suicide meticulously for at least a year.

Psychologically speaking, he was an extremely complex person.

Politically speaking, he was almost in a class of his own. He wanted Japan to go back to its old traditional ways, and his interpretation of the samurai code, or warrior code, known as "Bushidō" or "the way of the warrior" had special emphasis on the warrior's readiness to die, and on how it is more honorable to die a hero's death than to live a shameful life. Ritual suicide is, according to the Samurai code, a way to gain back lost honor. (The code generally stresses dignity, obedience to cultural rules, and honor.) You would think that this would place Mishima on the far right of the political spectrum, but the Right wing were contemptuous of Mishima’s declaration that Emperor Hirohito should have resigned from the Chrysanthemum Throne.

Mishima's militaristic patriotism and his romantic idealism are reflected in many of his works, including this novella.

If I'd had to rate this directly after first reading it, (I bought the book in Japan in my mid-late teens), I would have been impressed enough to have given it 5 stars - the novella is a lyrical and riveting depiction of a dual ritual suicide, the events that precede it, and the cultural milieu it plays out in.

When I first read this, I had not known a thing about Mishima. I had found the novella very dramatic and romantic, and the idealism spoke to me. It really gripped me. My teenage self felt very impressed.

...but writing a review on it now, with what I do know now about Japan and Mishima, I can't help but automatically integrate what I have read and seen of Mishima and his background, with how I feel towards this text.

I have since had time to think about the Mishima/Samurai/seppuku debacle, (of which I see this novella as a romanticization) and now I have pretty much mixed feelings.

Besides general issues that I may have with Mishima's political sentiments, the real seppuku undertaken by Mishima and his friends was a much less romantic undertaking and much more of a horribly messy affair, because the person who had been assigned to decapitate Mishima, couldn't complete the duty after many tries (slashing Mishima's neck, but not actually decapitating him) and someone else had to complete the task for him.

In fact, it was horrific in it's garbled execution, if you'll excuse the pun.

In this novella, Mishima gives his intended seppuku a much more romantic treatment, which makes what really happened so much more horrible to contemplate.

(Seppuku or harakiri is a form of Japanese ritual suicide by disembowelment. Part of the samurai bushido honor code, seppuku was either performed voluntarily by samurai to die with honor rather than fall into the hands of their enemies, or as a form of capital punishment for samurai who had committed serious offenses, or performed for other reasons that had brought shame to them.

Dressed ceremonially, with his sword placed in front of him, the warrior would prepare for death by writing a death poem.
With his selected attendant standing by, he would open his robe, take up his knife or short sword and plunge it into his abdomen, making a left-to-right cut. The kaishakunin would then perform kaishaku, a cut in which the warrior was decapitated.
See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seppuku )

Warrior about to commit seppuku.

In reading this work, I feel that it is worthwhile keeping in mind that this act of suicide (although now outdated) was very much a cultural thing with a long tradition, closely tied in with the Japanese concepts of honor and shame. I think it is something that might be rather strange for most Westerners to contemplate, since we actually tend to see suicide as a shameful thing; whereas in the context of this story, it is quite the opposite.

Hard as it must be to commit any suicide, I cannot imagine the determination it must require to actually disembowel yourself with a dagger or sword.

All the context aside, this is a novella that is a worthwhile read as a demonstration of Mishima's narrative skill, and is probably one of those "1001 novellas you should read before you die". It is a work of strangeness and beauty. Interesting also, are its various themes. As is obvious from its opening paragraphs, Mishima has a very idealistic interpretation of patriotism, an interpretation which is romantic despite its severity.

The novella is a window that lends some insight especially for Western readers, into the Japanese concepts of tradition and honor, and specifically into the traditional way of thought of the Samurai.

In any case, from various sources, it is fairly obvious that Mishima fantasized a lot about his coming suicide. In addition, a lot of his creative work deals with the subject of death.

He even made a film of this novella, which is definitely worthwhile watching and has a haunting quality. What is memorable is Mishima's ability to make what is actually a grisly event come across as something which has a dreamlike, surreal beauty. (Which just makes it feel more creepy, yet riveting at the same time).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bO-w-c...



The film is co-directed by Mishima himself, and he also acts in it, playing the main role.

This work gets 4 stars for its iconic status.

[Cecily]

This is the most unpleasant fiction I’ve ever read - although it did make me laugh in places early on.

The opening paragraph tells of a young lieutenant and his wife, married barely six months, who died by double suicide. Given the title and Japanese setting, you (rightly) assume there’s a ritualistic aspect, and that it won’t be pretty.

Sex

It immediately goes back a few months to a happy and intensely sexual marriage, but the writing is impossible to take seriously:
“Reiko’s body was white and pure, and her swelling breasts conveyed a firm and chaste refusal; but, upon consent, those breasts were lavish with their intimate, welcoming warmth. Even in bed these two were frighteningly and awesomely serious. In the very midst of wild, intoxicating passions, their hearts were sober and serious.”

Lest that seem a bit racy:
“All these things had a moral basis, and were in accordance with the Education Rescript’s injunction that 'husband and wife should be harmonious'.”

Death

When the husband resolves to die by suicide, as a matter of protest and honour, his wife immediately knows she will die too, as had been tacitly agreed on their wedding night. She feels privileged to be allowed to be his official witness and to follow him in death.

Sex and death

They quietly prepare: bathing, more sex (odd timing, after they bathed for pre-death cleanliness), tidying the home, getting the correct clothes and weapons ready, and writing suicide notes.

Then the double suicide. The level of gory detail is truly grim (he disembowels himself, and doesn't stop there), and I’m not normally squeamish.
I won't quote any of those passages.
It goes on and on - more so, because he goes first, so she's observing and pondering every detail, before she ends her own life.

How to rate this?

This is a famous and lauded story from a culture and time that are not my own. It raises important questions about radicalisation, obedience, patriotism, honour, duty, and the value of life - and death.

The vivid blood and white fabric were nicely contrasted, but the unnecessarily detailed descriptions of the protracted practicalities of the suicides were grim. That might be a cultural difference.

The ridiculous sexual passages might be down to abysmal translation, but without context, they read like Mills & Boon or Harlequin Romance rejects.

The segue from sex to death, and the frisson of interplay between the two, is disturbing.
“Was it death he was now waiting for? Or a wild ecstasy of the senses? The two seemed to overlap, almost as if the object of this bodily desire was death itself.”
That might be a kink, but it often reads like a mashup from two different authors.

I've admired and even enjoyed many books that have unpleasant aspects. But the relentless and visceral descriptions of viscera are way too far over the line for me.

I am unable to rate this.

A year later, I read Jun'ichirō Tanizaki's The Tattooer and reviewed it HERE. Like this, there is graphic pain, described with exquisite beauty. However, that took a magical-realist turn, with a twist at the end that made it far easier for me to appreciate than this.

Truth, fiction, and premonition

This was inspired by the Ni Ni Roku Incident in 1936, when Yukio Mishima was 11. He died by carefully-planned ritual suicide nine years after publishing this. There was a strong nationalistic motive for him, as for the lieutenant, but you could read this story and barely register that (patriotism isn't always a euphemism for extremism). See Wiki article.

Reading this reminded of JG Ballard's very disturbing The Atrocity Exhibition, which explores the links between death/danger and sexuality in horrible detail. I gave up on it, but it is a fascinating... book (non-linear, not a novel), with some beautiful writing. Furthermore, it was written in '67, published in '69, and in '70, Ballard did actually put on an exhibition of crashed cars in London, and in '73, he published Crash, which is a more conventional novel, exploring the same themes. Auto-eroticism in both senses.

Short story club

I read this as one of the stories in The Art of the Short Story, by Dana Gioia, from which I'm aiming to read one story a week with The Short Story Club, starting 2 May 2022.

You can read this story here.

You can join the group here.

[Gaurav Sagar · Rating 4 out of 5]

What does it take to be a great author? Does one have to condense complex ideas to form out prose which is high on acumen and demanding? Could an author write so effortlessly as if he is making no attempt at all, as water falls down a hill; and yet, he could strike you so profoundly that your heart weeps out. And should an author work in an ideal scenario which is like a parallel universe wherein literature and politics never intersect. And should literature necessarily be apolitical, or rather we should ask can literature be apolitical? And why literature should stay aside from politics, since literature is one of modes of expression and we express what we feel about life (and at times we look up to literature too for keys to the secrets of life), so how could an integral element of the life be shunned by it. As one may guess, the prose of Yukio Mishima is highly political, for he never shied away from his inclinations and leanings in his prose. The literary world of Mishima is an authentic reflection of his life, with brutal honesty wrapped in the poetic beauty of words enslaved by the majestic pen of the author.


The novella is written in the background of the Niniroku Jiken incident (also known as 26th February incident), wherein a coup d'état was attempted to overthrow the government and military leadership by young imperial Japanese Army officers. Yukio Mishima riding upon the seeds of patriotism, had been popular for his ideal cultural disposition towards his country, penned down an author surrogate based upon his flamboyant and romantic life in the form of Lieutenant Shinji Takeyama. The readers get a chance to peep into the mind of Mishima through the eyes of Shinji as if the latter is an alter ego of the former.





source


Patriotism sits upon the age-long struggle between the traditionalism and modernity, and the Japanese world too could not remain unaffected from it. The post-war Japanese world fights hard in the hell of being and nothingness and strives arduously to carve its identity, keeping intact its traditional values amidst the swamp of Western morals which are still finding their feet. Mishima takes it upon himself and keeps the flag of the ‘golden’ Japan high through his literature, infused with passionate political stances, through his life and death. Seppuku has been integral part of Japanese tradition of Samurai; and the author himself has been heavenly influenced by it, though romanticizes Seppuku through the novella but in reality, it may not be so. The religious views of the author manifest themselves in the Shinto religious practices of the protagonists. The author amalgamates his political, religious and cultural beliefs to carve out dense prose through the eyes of Shinji.


Could death liberate one from the grief, and how? How does one perceive death when one’s life is already over, is it liberating or confining? Isn’t the death a fearful thing which sends shivers through our spines, barely on its discussion. How can death rise from the dungeons of disquiet and fear to the sublime heights of glory and valor? Would it require just the determination to die, or something more is required too for death to rise up to such altitudes of magnificence? Shinji, torn between his disposition towards his country and his loyalty towards his friends, finds his way through immutable and eternal fire of suicide (Seppuku), the sacred and venerated flames of which douse his indecisiveness and embarrassment.


The decision of suicide is made swiftly as if it is a day-to-day matter and his wife also makes her mind within seconds as if her consent is just a ceremonial act since she is ever ready, as if death has lost its potency; perhaps it has taken birth out of the womb of patriotism, since death is closely related to it as if it is a perquisite to it. How a death of valor and courage is differentiated from those insignificant ones which are everyday affair? Perhaps the joy experienced while resolving upon the honorable death of beauty and truth is full of pure bliss, a bliss of revelation. The egoistic emotion of patriotic inclination and passionate warmth, developed out of fire of sheer love protagonists feel for each other, fuses with each other to form a whirlpool of wild ecstasy which gives birth to the great death of opulence and audacity.


The revered protagonist of the novella, Shinji, decides to sacrifice his life for the country without giving a second thought, raising the death to the level of divinity. But a worm of unscrupulous thought bites his consciousness that whether his country would take the slightest heed of his death, the anguish about his great act of Seppuku and thereby about his existence itself clouds his consciousness. How would this sublime act of self-immolation be taken by others- the existential anguish to seek for validation, through the probing and examining eyes of others, even in the act of death. Perhaps because the death of the great patriotic act must have some meaning or value associated with it, otherwise without these, it may be the death of nothingness. But Shinji is a battlefield without glory which does not take any notice of any opinions, would it be called patriotism or a self-sufficient death.




source


The reader watches with bated breath that only an author of the caliber of Yukio Mishima could write the very act of killing itself with minute details, without making it violent and gore, rather dazzling it like a shimmering jewel outpouring sheer beauty and lyricism. Our protagonists stare into each other’s eyes full of life, as if the distant pain of death refines their awareness of pleasure that their bodies would never know each and other. They muster the courage to withstand the death through valor and glory associated with it, the death transforms into Seppuku, even then it requires the courage of entering a battlefield.


As Shinji decides to rise for the very act of Seppuku, his eyes become oblivious of surrounding, including his wife, as if these organs of vision become blind to everything except for one which is the great act of marrying glory with the death and thereby immortalize it to be one with the divine consciousness riding upon the trails of the other world. The man removes the cloth from his thigh and swipes his sword over it to check the sharpness of the weapon of the great act and a red cherry of blood spurts from it, does it occur to his mind that the body is wasted now and there is no turning back then to finish the act? The pain on thrusting the majestic weapon of death, gleaming with shimmering metal, into stomach for the onset of the phase of disembowelment, brings up the reality from the well of romanticism and gets Shinji off guard. The suffering makes him realize the profound agony of excruciating pain and his beautiful wife could not do anything other than to be a bare witness to the momentous act of unusual courage and will. The husband has already transcended to some other world and remains a prisoner in this world due to pain and suffering; he gathers himself and musters the courage of his entire being to finish the divine act to ascend from this world of earthly matters to the world to the divine universe on renewal of valor.


The extended existence of Reiko torments her soul, the gulf between her husband and her is so wide that it seems to be impossible to bridge. What could be her mindset during this phase of borrowed existence after her husband’s death, how does one deal with the feeling of profound emptiness and throbbing anguish when you know that life is just a matter of a few moments, as if you are just a living corpse, just having the last flames of life flickering though your angst. Nonetheless, she watches the courageous act of her husband through grief and enormous pain swelling up in her soul, but the imperishable thread of promise paralyses her. She stands bravely through her moments of extreme suffering and eventually joins her husband on the great journey to divine world of glory and valor.




source

[Flo · Rating 3 out of 5]

On -isms
It seems that I had some issues with this novella. And the reasons, as usual, are completely personal and thus, irrelevant to your reading experience.
Beyond tradition, beliefs, fear and indignation at the imminent prospect of Imperial troops attacking Imperial troops, I can't find a story breathtakingly infused with romanticism. I can't relate to the concept of patriotism. To a sort of world citizen, the attachment to a portion of land is somewhat feeble. Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire, says Lord Byron in his Letters and Journals; something about this made me think of that quote. My connections (abstractions to which I aspire, at least) are with people, not with theories involving nationality, and I'm against any kind of generalization that such notion engenders. Certain values and beliefs, the religion I was raised in – the first origin, a matter of geography. I still can’t feel pride for the doings of chance or let's say even fate, juggling with the concept of a plan designed by someone else.
The degeneration of patriotism is a debate for another time, so I will refrain from expanding on nationalism and such, a reality that it is being forced on many of us, now more than ever.
In any case, patriotism might be foreign language. I dislike most terms which end in the suffix -ism that don't involve my favorite writers.


On licking blades and finding it remotely erotic
Another issue – the real theme in this novella – which prevented me from greatly enjoying this story was the excessive fascination for the concept of death, the morbid enchantment by the blade which was juxtaposed to a sense of beauty and sensuality; elements that when combined, I usually fail to identify with. The leitmotifs of this story, and of its creator’s life. I watched a part of a documentary a couple of days ago where the narrator explained how Mishima’s last actions in the form of a coup might have been, above all, an excuse to achieve the aesthetic death he always dreamed of. The last artistic manifestation of will.

It struck him as incredible that, amidst this terrible agony, things which could be seen could still be seen, and existing things existed still.

On writing
A brief yet tough read. Despite the lack of connection between the story and me, the beauty of Mishima's prose remained intact. I’m more and more impressed by the care with which he described the remarkable, the inconsequential, by means of his contemplative and delectable writing. The scenes of love between husband and wife were beautifully portrayed. Regardless of my thoughts on the subject, with the precision of a surgeon, the author associated the concepts of patriotism and death with a sense of eroticism, until they were one single reality. The beauty of skin. The brutality of blood. The rite of love and death.
I failed again.

Thus, so far from seeing any inconsistency or conflict between the urges of his flesh and the sincerity of his patriotism, the lieutenant was even able to regard the two as parts of the same thing.

On myths
The red string bringing these characters together.¹ At one point, one is honestly thinking how the sublimity of love actually feels, the act of giving oneself fully. Unreservedly. Sharing perspectives on life. Breathing somebody else’s air. Thinking about words to express feelings. Voicing those words. Not knowing what to do at the thought of the absence of such words. Following the fate of those words. And then, the fear. He who gives himself up like a prisoner of war must give up his weapons as well.² And deprived of any defense, not convinced by the fusion of words, voices and individuality, the fracture of self, the fear of loss, the constant feeling of being another one’s burden, one stops thinking about it, until the next day. I imagine it might be simpler to make decisions when people return their gaze and silence is no longer a wall.


On random thoughts
This novella became even more vivid once I watched Yūkoku, a 1966 short film “produced, directed, acted and written by Yukio Mishima.” I watched it at night. A sleepless night. The night the bell jar broke.³

With regard to Mishima’s works, nothing is ever certain. This is the third book I read by him – apart from two short stories. Fortunately, I don’t know what to expect, but I already look forward to the wonders of the second volume of his tetralogy. I long for another deep contemplation of my reactions to every one of his words.






1. Allusion to a review of Anna Karenina
2. Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being, Part Three: Words Misunderstood
3. I wrote this the same night I wrote something about The Bell Jar
4. Oh, who's going to read this far.

Feb 02, 17
* Also on my blog.

[Adina ( not enough time )]

Read with the Short Story Club. Part of The Art of the Short Story anthology.

I do not like Mishima. Not as a writer or as a person. I gave 2* to one of his novels but I decided to give this one a chance. I cannot really rate this short story because I could not stomach the subject. The writing is good, I agree, but I deeply disliked reading in excruciating detail about a ritual suicide. I just cannot understand the practice and the author's fascination with it. I am an admirer of Japanese culture but this is one of its aspects that repels me.

[Nika · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is disturbing, thought-provoking, and hard-hitting. This is a story about loyalty, passion, and self-destruction. It offers an insight into the Japanese ritual of seppuku. The short story explores the life of lieutenant Shinji Takeyama and his young wife Reiko. He is a Japanese military man loyal to the State and the ideals of honor as he sees them. His friends recently participated in a coup d'état that ended in failure.
Takeyama knows that he could have been one of these rebels.
He knows what is going to follow. Takeyama will be required to take part in repressions against the insurgents. There is no way the protagonist can tolerate this inglorious fate. He decides to end his life in the way he considers the most appropriate. His wife supports the lieutenant's decision wholeheartedly. Her loyalty to the man she has chosen to spend her life with leads Reiko to make a fatal decision. We have here the theme of marital unity taken to the extreme. As is the theme of patriotism, given how flexible and pliant this term can be.

The young couple's story left me with an uneasy feeling. Yukio Mishima's biography and the way he ended his own life encourage us to conclude that he probably approved of the decision made by the main characters or even revered it. But the storyline also implies how harmful fanatic loyalty to ideals might be. For the modern reader, it may highlight a destructive side of patriotism that can negatively influence the minds and actions of people.

The text, which I found problematic in certain aspects, brings up another point. Can, in some cases, preferring death to shame be considered patriotic (kind of) and 'honorable' (sort of)? What if we imagine a dictator who started a war of aggression and inflicted chaos and woe on their own country? A leader who failed their nation? Would the suicide committed by such a man be more patriotic than a continuation of his harmful actions?
These questions should be taken with a grain of salt and seen as an attempt to reflect on whether suicide can be patriotic.

[Junta · Rating 4 out of 5]

The original Japanese title of this novella is 憂国 (yūkoku), for which no English word exists as an equivalent.

The primary senses of 憂 are (the state or action of) worrying and being concerned, while secondary senses include (the state or action of) suffering, being ill, sad, reluctant, melancholy and cold. 国 is the kanji for country or nation. 憂国 as a word combines these into the state of being concerned about, and having your thoughts with the (present and future) state of one's country.

While Patriotism is no doubt a title which does the story justice, there is a chasm present between the connotations of 憂国 and Patriotism - the latter meaning, more or less, the love of your country and willingness to defend it. In Mishima's novella, a lieutenant of the Imperial Forces commits seppuku, ritual suicide through disembowelment with a sword, followed by his wife, in an act of defiance, honour, ethics and patriotism (this is all revealed at the very start of the story). He believes that death is better than having to choose between Japan and his close comrades whom have committed mutiny.

While the prose is poetic and evokes a sense of beauty and eroticism in death, I feel that it isn't the kind of novella that you're supposed to love, as with patriotism towards one's country - rather, a sense of sorrow and melancholy for the characters and their fates, as with 憂国.

After all, there is much to be discussed about a novella when the author himself ends his life in a similar vein to the main character - ultimately, was that an act of patriotism, or 憂国? I've only read a few of Mishima's works so far, and must continue with his others.

I recommend reading the top review for the novella, Traveller's comprehensive review, including the starting chapter of the novella, and a YouTube link to the short movie adaptation which Mishima directed and played the main role in.

August 24, 2015

P.S. Matt in Comment #7 pointed out that in German,
Patriotism = Vaterlandsliebe (the Liebe=love for one's Vaterland=fatherland)
and a suitable word for
yūkoku = Vaterlandssorge (Sorge could mean concern, care, and sorrow).

Yuki in Comment #15 pointed out that in Vietnamese,
憂国 = âu quốc, but it is an archaic word, so
愛国 seems to be used these days.

Speranza in Comment #17 pointed out that in Bulgarian,
татковина (tatkovina) = homeland; composed of татко (Dad) and вина (guilt).

If you're aware of another language having a similar word to yūkoku, or would like to add to the discussion, please leave a comment!

[zed · Rating 1 out of 5]

“One of the most powerful short stories ever written: Yukio Mishima’s masterpiece about the erotics of patriotism and honor, love and suicide.” Says the blurb.

Badly written erotica about the said subjects if you ask me.

I had a few good laughs, though.

“The coat, which was cold and damp and had lost the odor of horse dung it normally exuded when exposed to the sun, weighed heavily upon her arm.” How romantic.

“In a few moments the two lay naked before the glowing gas heater.” What a very lucky or unlucky gas heater depending on one’s point of view.

“What ecstasies they experienced after these tender exchanges may well be imagined” The gas heater got to see it all.

“From the heights they plunged into the abyss, and from the abyss they took wing and soared once more to dizzying heights. The lieutenant panted like the regimental standard-bearer on a route march.... As one cycle ended, almost immediately a new wave of passion would be generated, and together—with no trace of fatigue—they would climb again in a single breathless movement to the very summit.”
“For one thing, he was anxious not to undermine the considerable strength he would need in carrying out his suicide. For another, he would have been sorry to mar the sweetness of these last memories by overindulgence.” Oh those dizzying heights, the over indulgence, the over indulgence!

“Even the wood-grain patterns they now gazed at on the dark ceiling boards would be taken from them.” Yes, even those wood grained patterns would be taken from them.

“This must be the very pinnacle of good fortune, he thought. To have every moment of his death observed by those beautiful eyes—it was like being borne to death on a gentle, fragrant breeze. There was some special favor here.” Death on a gentle, fragrant breeze that ends with him vomiting his guts up, well not really, his guts were spread out all over the floor eventually, some special favor.

“Reiko bent her body low to the mat in a deep bow. She could not raise her face. She did not wish to spoil her make-up with tears, but the tears could not be held back”
“It was the first time Reiko had ever seen her husband’s blood and she felt a violent throbbing in her chest. She looked at her husband’s face. The lieutenant was looking at the blood with calm appraisal. For a moment- though thinking at the same time that it was hollow comfort—Reiko experienced a sense of relief.”
Her make-up was not spoiled?

“If she were to lock the door, it could be that the neighbors might not notice their suicide for several days. Reiko did not relish the thought of their two corpses putrifying before discovery.” Yes indeed, but who is going to clean up the blood and guts?

“She gathered her strength and plunged the point of the blade deep into her throat.” 万歳

[Olga · Rating 5 out of 5]

Some would say it is the story about love for both a woman and the country, loyalty and the death which is the only option. Death which is fascinating and irresistable to the author although he admits that death by seppuku IS excruciating and ugly. Some would say the story romanticises and/or eroticizes death or is just suicide propoganda.
For me, it is, first of all, a story about the tremendous faith of this young couple who look so beautiful and happy in their wedding photograph. His faith in what he is about to do and her faith in him.

'Reiko did not linger. When she thought how the pain which had previously opened such a gulf
between herself and her dying husband was now to become a part of her own experience, she saw before her only the joy of herself entering a realm her husband had already made his own. In her husband’s agonized face there had been something inexplicable which she was seeing for the first time. Now she would solve that riddle. Reiko sensed that at last she too would be able to taste the true bitterness and sweetness of that great moral principle in which her husband believed. What had until now been tasted only faintly through her husband’s example she was about to savor directly with her own tongue.'

[Meike]

This novella is unratable: The beautiful writing easily deserves ten stars, Mishima is just a brilliant, brilliant poet; but the content foreshadows the author's own death by seppuku (suicide by ritual disembowlement) and reflects his right-wing nationalism as well as his obsession with death. The main (and only) characters are Shinji, a 31-year-old lieutenant in the Imperial Army, and his 23-year-old wife Reiko, who have been married for less than half a year. As the other soldiers stage a mutiny, Shinji is torn between his loyalty to the Emperor and his friends, so he declares to his wife that he will kill himself rather than joining the rebellion. Reiko obediently asks permission to join him. They spent one last evening together and commit ritual suicide.

The whole text is superbly written, lyrical and elegant and just a joy to read - which means that the author describes an act of extreme political allegiance to the old Japan as heroic and beautiful. Mishima himself recruited a private army, the Tatenokai, to restore power to the Emperor. In 1970, he and four of the Tatenokai entered a military base in Tokyo, took the commandant hostage and tried to incite the soldiers to overturn the democratic constitution. Minutes after the coup failed, Mishima committed seppuku - in a way, he turned himself into a version of the protagonist of "Patriotism", and that after playing the role of Shinji in the movie version of his novella (you can watch it here). There is also actual footage of his attempted military coup, you can watch it here.

Another important aspect of the novella is Mishima's preoccupation with youth, beauty and death. Shinji and Reiko are both young and beautiful, and their strong sexual passion for each other is compared to the passion of patriotism. Freely choosing death is presented as an act of freedom, and the protagonists are both determined to look as good as possible as corpses. This combination of sex and death is a recurring theme in Mishima's work, and one can only speculate in how far his obsession was influenced by the fact that the writer was homosexual, but married to a woman and a father (just consider the suffering of his alter ego in his roman à clef Confessions of a Mask). But this is kitchen psychology - Mishima was a highly complex and, yes, also problematic character, but one with undeniable and overwhelming artistic abilities.

Mishima takes many pages to convey the tenderness and passion between Shinji and Reiko, and even more pages to describe the double suicide with all of its gruesome details (hint: It's pretty difficult to cut your stomach open until the intestines spill out) - this book is not for the faint of heart, but still so beautifully rendered that it's baffling considering the subject manner. This author is a must-read, and not only for lovers of Japanese literature - he needs to be read critically, but his books are utterly fascinating.

[Steven Godin · Rating 3 out of 5]

"On the twenty-eighth of February 1936 (on the third day, that is, of the February 26 incident), Lieutenant Shinji Takeyama of the Konoe Transport Battalion — profoundly disturbed by the knowledge that his closest colleagues had been with the mutineers from the beginning, and indignant at the imminent prospect of Imperial troops attacking Imperial troops — took his officer’s sword and ceremonially disemboweled himself in the eight-mat room of his private resident in the sixth block of Aoba-cho, in Yotsuya Ward. His wife, Reiko, followed him, stabbing herself to death".

This is the opening to this powerful Mishima short-story, we know what's going to happen, it may lay out all of the facts of the story but only alludes to some of the emotion. And the opening paragraph is done in a style similar to that of a news report or an obituary, disturbing as it is, this feels like it was written with immense pride. Seppuku, the ritual suicide is where the story ends up, but the heart of the narrative is made up of some moving moments between man and wife before the deed is done, including passionate love making. Somehow Mishima succeeds in exalting sex and death, though he spends a great deal of time merely describing the physical details. For example,

"The lieutenant’s naked skin glowed like a field of barley, and everywhere the muscles sowed in sharp relief, converging on the lower abdomen about the small, unassuming navel. Gazing at the youthful, firm stomach, modestly covered by a vigorous growth of hair, Reiko thought of it as it was soon to be, cruelly cut by the sword, and she laid her head upon it, sobbing in pity, and bathed it with kisses".

Patriotism is beautifully written, Mishima writes with grace and control as he leads us through the lieutenant and Reiko’s preparations for death. After the opening chapter’s recitation of events and the second chapter’s similarly summary style, which gives us the history of the couple’s brief marriage, the story proceeds essentially in real time—it doesn’t take much longer to read than its events would take to accomplish. It's precise, metaphorical, and elevated Mishima to legendary status.

[Connie G]

"Patriotism" is the story of the ritual suicide of a Japanese soldier, Lieutenant Shinji Takeyama, and his wife, Reiko. The first paragraph gives us this shocking information and the reason for this decision. On February 26, 1936, 21 officers in the Japanese Imperial Army attempted to overthrow the government. Their fellow officers were commanded by Emperor Hirohito to execute the rebellious officers. Shinji was good friends with some of the rebels so it would be against his personal moral integrity to execute his friends in the Imperial Army. He also feels loyalty to the Emperor. Shinji decides that ritual suicide, seppuku, would be the honorable way to proceed.

His devoted wife feels that the lieutenant had "become the sun about which her whole world revolved," and she wants to join him in death. The passionate couple's last night together is described - ecstatic lovemaking heightened by their knowledge of the deaths which would follow.

The short story was well-written in a strange, disturbing way, and gave an understanding into the Japanese tradition of seppuku. Honor, marital unity, sexual passion, violence, and pain were combined in describing the couple's final hours on earth. The story was part of an anthology being read by the Short Story Club, and some readers may find it overly disturbing. It's a story that readers might find interesting because of its view into another culture, but not likable. The author himself committed seppuku in 1970 in a protest when he wanted Japan to reinstate a warrior culture.

[Jon Nakapalau · Rating 5 out of 5]

Mishima shows us the last act of a young officer who decides to commit seppuku. This novella offers insight into the reasoning process that someone about to end their life makes when they decide to die with (their perception of) honor - and foreshadows the tragic act Mishima was latter to commit. Warning: extremely violent content.

[Nicole~ · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Sino-Japanese tradition was very important to Yukio Mishima (January 14, 1925 – November 25, 1970), who held strong ideals of the militaristic glory days of old Japan.

In Patriotism(1960), Mishima uses the love-death theme executing the ancient ritual suicide, viscerally playing it out through a recently married couple. Lieutenant Takeyama returns home following the failed coup d'état of 1936, the Ni NI Roku Incident. Rather than follow orders to execute the rebels- his friends, the young army officer decides to commit suicide- his farewell note would read: "Long Live the Imperial Forces--," revealing his own true ideology.

The story unfolds in a timeframe of a few hours, in an unsettling and evocative mix of contrasting effects, of sexual and gruesomely graphic scenes, as Mishima manages skillfully and poetically to balance sensuality with darkness.

The lieutenant drew his wife close and kissed her vehemently. As their tongues explored each other's mouths, reaching out into the smooth, moist interior, they felt as if the still- unknown agonies of death had tempered their senses to the keenness of red-hot steel. The agonies they could not yet feel, the distant pains of death, had refined their awareness of pleasure.....
At the touch of his wife's tears on his stomach the lieutenant felt ready to endure with courage the cruelest agonies of his suicide.

Takeyama considers his final act with the courage of a soldier entering battle, to "a death of no less degree and quality than death in the front line." For Reiko who, almost in a dreamlike state, would bravely follow him to honor their death pact like the dutiful spouse: "The day which, for a soldier's wife, had to come, has come."

The last moments of this heroic and dedicated couple were such to make the gods weep.

Mishima's obsession with death was bewildering from a young age, if not plainly disturbing. Death themes frequently appeared even in his earliest works. In Patriotism, the melding of self-annihilation and erotic pleasure is expressed with deep feeling: it is absolutely apparent to this reader that the story was a rehearsal for the plan he had in mind as his own final act on November 25th, 1970.
See Mishima: A Biography
and wiki on Mishima

In the movie adaptation, Yūkoku- the Rite of Life and Death, Mishima dramatically (over)played the lead with considered intensity and vigor - his emotional investment in the act of the ritual itself seemed so well-thought out, and so very personal.

My copy of Patriotism is from Death in Midsummer and Other Stories, an extremely worthy collection showcasing Mishima's mastery of the short story form.

[PattyMacDotComma · Rating 1 out of 5]

1★
“The last moments of this heroic and dedicated couple were such as to make the gods themselves weep. The lieutenant’s age, it should be noted, was thirty-one, his wife’s twenty-three; and it was not half a year since the celebration of their marriage.”

CONTENT WARNING for sex and graphic suicide ritual by which the author also chose to end his own life in 1970.

What an absolutely harrowing story. The opening explains the circumstances in which this young Japanese couple choose to commit suicide, he by disembowelment (seppuku), and she by loyally stabbing herself after necessarily serving as his witness.

These two are passionately devoted to each other, living in a traditional manner where Shinji is the man of the house around whom all life revolves, while Reiko is completely, adoringly, happily subservient to him. It’s not her submission to him, but the following that disturbs me the most.

“On the god shelf below the stairway, alongside the tablet from the Great Ise Shrine, were set photographs of their Imperial Majesties, and regularly every morning, before leaving for duty, the lieutenant would stand with his wife at this hallowed place and together they would bow their heads low. The offering water was renewed each morning, and the sacred sprig of sasaki was always green and fresh. Their lives were lived beneath the solemn protection of the gods and were filled with an intense happiness which set every fiber in their bodies trembling.”

I feel it’s partly their passion for each other that has spilled over into their dedication to the gods and their majesties. They don’t want to test their luck, so they practice the rituals. Suddenly, one night, Shinji comes home saying his friends were among the insurgents involved in the current mutiny against the government.

“Reiko recalled momentarily the faces of high-spirited young officers, friends of her husband, who had come to the house occasionally as guests.”

Shinji says he will be expected to lead an attack on them tomorrow, and he has been given permission to spend one night at home first.

He won’t attack his friends.

“ ‘Tonight I shall cut my stomach.’ Reiko did not flinch.”

They go through long rituals of bathing and preparing themselves and then enjoy a long session of lovemaking.

“The agonies they could not yet feel, the distant pains of death, had refined their awareness of pleasure.”

The lovemaking varies from tender and exquisite to florid and overblown erotica, mixing pain and pleasure. Shinji finally stops, only because he knows the strength he will need to carry out his vow.

It feels like a five-star read for power and a no-star read for the sin of glorifying the horrific, gory, bloody act by which the author had probably already decided to end his own life.

Mishima also wrote, acted, directed, and produced this story as a short film, “Yukoku, or the Rite of Love and Death” . He plays the lieutenant, perhaps as a dress rehearsal? What a creepy thought.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=des...

In January 2021, “The Conversation” published a long article about the highly-acclaimed author: Japan’s most famous writer committed suicide after a failed coup attempt – now, new photos add more layers to the haunting act.

I’ve decided to give it one star, only because I want to make it obvious I wouldn’t recommend it to anyone (unless, of course, you want to wallow in descriptions of pulsating entrails).

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

This story about lieutenant Shinji Takeyama and his young wife, Reiko, who commit suicide together after a mutiny against the Imperial Army, is one of the most harrowing tales I have read. The description of seppuku (ritual suicide by disembowelment) is graphic and visceral, yet lyrical and beautiful; knowing that Mishima himself performed the act in 1970 to end his life adds an eerie layer of significance to the story.

[George Ilsley · Rating 5 out of 5]

2023 Re-Read:
With somewhat fresh eyes, had another gander at this controversial short story, paying attention to structure, and also imagining how it must appear to readers who are unfamiliar with Mishima's life, his work, and his obsessions.

The entire plot is disclosed in the opening paragraph; the rest is backstory and development. As well, the detail that the couple had only been married less than six months made an impression on this reading.

The story alone is disturbing enough; the overlap of sex and death, the eroticism of ideals such as duty and patriotism. Notably Mishima was obsessed with the mingling of youthful beauty and death, and visited these themes often in his work. (I blame lingering trauma from World War 2.)

As I mention below in my original review, Mishima did more than write this story: he also made a movie based on the story story in which he played the role of the lieutenant. This story therefore can be seen as the script, and the movie is the rehearsal, for Mishima's eventual performance of death.

The lieutenant looks in the mirror after shaving: There was a certain elegance, he even felt, in the association of death with this radiantly healthy face. It is possible to glimpse the author himself in these sentiments; as well, dying under the eyes of his beloved is also a scenario he later enacted: his conduct on the battlefield.

Thanks to other reviewers here, I've also learned more about the nuances of the original title, which has been approximately translated as "Patriotism".

Original Review:
Patriotism is arguably the most important work in Mishima career. It is a key to unlock the mysteries of his life, and his death.

Reiki, the wife, is named on almost every page, but the man is most often simply called the lieutenant. He is enamoured with the great country “for which he grieved. He was to give his life for it.” Would the country care? He didn’t know; and it did not matter. “His was a battlefield without glory ... it was the front line of the spirit.”

Mishima does more than theorize here: he caresses every detail in this story. The story is not only a trial run: it is the basis for a film that Mishima then directs and in which he plays the role of the lieutenant. Thus we have, committed to film, the ritual act of seppuku which Mishima later goes on to perform during his own uprising, his mutiny, his rebellion; all as foretold in the layers of this short story.

Patriotism is a most interesting title, since in the context of the story (based on real events) and Mishima’s life (based on abstractions) neither hew closely to conventional definitions of “patriotism” but instead bow to higher ideals of honour and obligation. All of this is, of course, very debatable. High ideals are very malleable.

[jeremy · Rating 3 out of 5]

how to fairly review a book that one finds well written yet marked by a dubious morality? yukio mishima's patriotism, though seemingly beloved by nearly all others, did not agree with me entirely. other reviews praise this famous tale as the epitome of devotion and romance, though i found it to be rather misogynistic, the very antipathy of love and allegiance (however not lacking in passion). i have never considered misguided adventures into the realms of martyrdom worthy of celebration (especially those that bring with them the innocent), and the main character of this story strikes me as one consumed with pride and self-righteousness. while this is undoubtedly a complex story, dependent upon at least a cursory understanding of japanese culture, it may very well be that i simply misinterpreted mishima's aim. perhaps he really was offering this visceral tale in criticism of fervid, often blind, patriotism. it, however, seemed rather literal to me, especially given the overwhelming critical accolades it has attracted over the years. patriotism is surely an intriguing work, one that leaves the reader thinking about the many consequences our loyalties often engender. i cannot say i disliked this book, it is simply that i was surprised by how little it moved me.

[Daniela · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book has only 30 pages which are better written than most 300 hundred page novels I've read. It is beautiful, evocative and astonishingly terrible.

There's barely any plot to this. Mishima describes the ritual suicide the Japanese call seppuku. A lieutenant of the Imperial army torn between an impossible choice follows the only possible way out, the only choice that would save his honour.

Please don't get me wrong: there's a nearly unbearable darkness to this tale. An exaltation of suicide which the narrative compares to the act of loving. Mishima's fascination with seppuku - the method he chose to end his own life - is strange and disturbing. But it creates a little masterpiece.

[Brown Girl Reading · Rating 4 out of 5]

What an interesting novelette. Striking images all placed on a symbolic backdrop of white and red like the book cover. It was amazing how Mishima takes the reader through a horrible ritual but makes it feel like an art. Disturbing. It's a very quick read. So quick that I read it twice. I kept noticing things everywhere in the text. Review on the blog is up at http://didibooksenglish.wordpress.com.... Check it out!

[Trin · Rating 3 out of 5]

Reading this book is sort of what I’d imagine watching a snuff film would be like. The story is a simple one: a young soldier in ’30s Japan comes home and informs his wife that in order to preserve his honor, he must commit seppuku before the night is through. The wife proves her love and devotion by agreeing to go with him, so they calmly organize their affairs, make love one last time, and then kill themselves. All of this is beautifully, and in fact, lovingly described. Parts of it, especially as the couple take comfort in each other’s bodies a final time, are moving in a mournful, bittersweet way. I’ve written some apocalyptic fiction and I’d love to be able to capture that sort of mood so well.

However, all of this is sort of spoiled by the fact that what the couple is doing is completely ridiculous. The idea of ritualistic suicide is bizarre to me, and in the case of this book, you can’t even fool yourself into thinking that the author might be subtly critiquing the practice, as Mishima himself later committed seppuku. Think about that for a moment. Read Mishima’s incredibly detailed description of ritual disembowelment and think about that. Or, you know, don’t. I won’t judge you. I spent several hours after I finished reading this slim novella feeling sick to my stomach, it’s so graphic—and I say this as someone who read Exquisite Corpse while munching on a burrito. It’s the rare piece of literature that can achieve that level of effectiveness.

So yeah, it’s a snuff film. But it’s an unusually stylish and well-directed one.

[Felix · Rating 4 out of 5]

On re-reading, it's still a crazy scenario. It's remarkable how lovingly Mishima described the whole process of ritual suicide. I suppose he was already keen for it when he wrote this.

---

This story is absolutely insane.

I don't mean to suggest that it is bad per se, and it certainly carries a weight of historical significance when one considers the way that Yukio Mishima chose to die, but regardless, it is quite mad.

I don't think it should be considered much of a plot spoiler to say that this is a story about seppuku (it is mentioned on the blurb in fact), and taken in some cultural context, you could perhaps see honor in the decision. Lieutenant Takeyama Shinji, comes home one evening after deciding he would rather commit ritual suicide than fight against his own comrades when some of his friends in the military start a rebellion.

Without seeming to explain a whole lot of this to his wife, Reiko, he comes home and then tells her they will commit ritual suicide together. It happened like this:

"Well then..." The lieutenant's eyes opened wide. Despite the exhaustion they were strong and clear, and now for the first time they looked straight into the eyes of his wife. "Tonight I shall cut my stomach." Reiko did not flinch. Her round eyes showed tension, as taut as the clang of a bell. "I am ready," she said. "I ask permission to accompany you."

Dutifully, his wife does as she's told.

Although I can appreciate some of the cultural context here, I struggle with this being a truly beautiful story. The events are essentially horrible, and a lot of what is described as being serene and otherwise excellent is actually really sad and bleak. Plus, we don't actually know that much about what has driven Lieutenant Shinji to this position.

Ah well, I guess in many ways, this story served as a reason for Mishima to describe his 'beautiful' death to come. I hope that when he really did commit seppuku it met his expectations.

[Gertrude & Victoria · Rating 5 out of 5]

Patriotism is said to be Mishima's favorite story; there is little doubt it is one of his greatest - sublime in all its nuances, and compelling in its vision of finality. It is a fascinating look into the world of death and eroticism - a rare work of beauty, seduction, and sensuality. How does Mishima create a scene that overwhelms the soul, enslaves the imagination, and draws out - almost beguiles - the perverse desire for the death act?

He writes with sweeping power in a style so subtle, yet so alluring and consuming, that it leaves you trembling in bliss. He writes with the absolute authority of determination that leaves no room for escape.

Mishima has you believing that you are the master of your own destiny, in life, and, in death. The will to die at your own chosen time and in your own chosen way, as in the case of Lieutenant Shinji Takeyama and his wife Rieko, moves one to consider such a glorious and symbolic act of defiance and elegance.

Savoring the warmth glowing within themselves, they lay still and recalled the ecstacies they had just known. Each moment of the experience was relived. They remembered the taste of kisses which had never wearied, the touch of naked flesh, episode after episode of dizzying bliss. But already, from the dark boards of the ceiling, the face of death was peering down. These joys had been final, and their bodies would never know them again.

[rahul · Rating 5 out of 5]

Oh..Mishima.

[Anisha Inkspill · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a short story that draws a very thin line between love, trust, death and honour.

In how the story unfolds draws my sympathies, especially towards Reiko a young wife, and also a new wife, who without doubt or question agrees to a suicide pact with her husband of one week.

It’s a very sad story that illustrates the beauty of death and honour with the love they share. The story is set in late 1930s Japan, and from Reiko’s character, I’m thinking it’s of a time where women did not question their husbands. I don’t fully understand why Reiko had to take her own life as it’s the husband who’s caught in a difficult position. I’m thinking, as I keep reading, I will come across books that will make this clearer to me, in the meantime for the writing it’s 4*.

[Franco Vitaliano · Rating 5 out of 5]

I have always considered Yukio Mishima a great writer, as well as a great man who refused to see his country succumb to events. Obviously it is a book written with his political vision, but in reading it one must identify with the moment, with what he felt, and not read it with a current view guided by what we thinks to knows now. He always exposed himself, always shouted his thoughts to the world, even in a brutal and direct way. He never hid, facing life like a true Samurai, sometimes using the pen and sometimes the sword.

[library ghost (farheen) · Rating 5 out of 5]

this was like experiencing death

[Andrew · Rating 5 out of 5]

Patriotism, by Yukio Mishima, is a novella centred around themes of love for ones nation, for ones family and Japanese tradition. The story follows Lieutenant Shinji Takeyama and his wife Reiko. Takeyama vows to commit seppuku, ritual suicide by disembowelment, after his friends in the army are implicated in the February 26th Incident (1936), and he is ordered to spearhead a crackdown against them. Torn between love for his friends, and love for his country and Emperor, Takeyama decides to commit suicide, followed by his wife, in the ultimate act of loyalty and patriotic duty.

The novella centres around their marriage, the Incident, and their resolute determination to end thier own lives. Takeyama returns home, tells his wife what he has decided, and they share one last night together before ending their lives. Takeyama goes first, disemboweling himself, and Reiko follows, cutting her own throat. The act is horrific to the reader, but Mishima communicates the wonder and excitement of the pair as they commit suicide. He skillfully describes the feelings of fear, determination, fanatical patriotism and love each has, and the importance of the act to the two main characters.

It is difficult for a Western reader to understand such strong feelings of fanatical patriotism, something that is largely discouraged in the modern world. However, Mishima has painstakingly written about the desire to serve ones beliefs to the end, and the power and determination of individuals set on honoring their country and their commitment to one another.

So how did I feel about the book? The concepts are alien to me as a reader, and the idea of committing suicide in such as fashion, and for any cause, is hard for me to understand. The themes of intense devotion between husband and wife are clear, and touching in a sense. However, the mixing of love, desire, eroticism, and violent death in the book seem to be meant to disturb the reader in some fashion. This was largely successful, as Takeyama and Reiko's intense drive toward honourable suicide, and their violent death, are meshed with their feelings for one another, their intense loyalty, and their devotion. The combination proved adequately unsettling, as Mishima has wistfully written about committing the seppuku , giving the act the glow of desire and devotion.

Mishima himself committed seppuku during an attempted coup d'etat against the Japanese government in 1970. The coup failed, and Mishima, after giving a speech to soldiers at the garrison he had occupied, returned to the inner office and killed himself, with members of his Nationalist group assisting him.

This book was interesting, disturbing, and enlightening. It offers a glimpse into a world many of us are not familiar with. Even so, such intense devotion to ones nation, and the act of committing suicide with ones own lover, offers a stirring tale. I can easily recommend this novella to anyone looking to read a deep and thoughtful story. Mishima's beautiful prose and the disturbing content mix to form a tale that is sickening and fascinating, and difficult to turn away from. I can easily recommend this book to anyone interested in any of the themes listed above. I feel that this is an important read, and should not be missed.

[Phil · Rating 5 out of 5]

This short story is breathtaking. I read it in college and I was brought to tears reading it on the subway.

[Julie]

10/10

When art mimics life ...