All PostsThe publication histories of both A Thousand Cranes and Sound of the Mountain resemble the erratic, scattered pattern Kawabata set with Snow Country, though they do not stretch over as long a period of time or undergo as many major revisions. But the technique of evolving narration–with one segment suggesting, through the “remnant of feeling” that lingered within Kawabata’s mind, how yet another moment in the lives of his characters could follow that which preceded–had become a key pattern for Kawabata’s writing. [...] suggesting that they should not be called novels at all, but rather, perhaps, linked prose. The essentially fluid nature of Kawabata’s fiction made it possible for him to say that many of his works could end at any point, and that specific chapters could easily be deleted.
Gessel, Van C. Three Modern Novelists: Soseki, Tanizaki, Kawabata. Kodansha. 1993. 183-4.
I’ve been reading Japanese literature for the past week or so. After some Akutagawa stories and Tanizaki’s Some Prefer Nettles, I ended up back at my favorite Japanese author, Kawabata Yasunari, having, in the past week, read three of his novels–two (Snow Country and Sound of the Mountain) for the second or third time and one (The Old City) for the first time–as well as the brief biography I quote from above. That quote and the associated text about the long writing and publication history of some of his works struck me for its confirmation of something I’ve felt about those works.
Sound of the Mountain, my favorite of his works, has always felt to me like a strange mixture of short story and novel. While the same characters appear across the whole book (an old man and his family) and certain situations/storylines run their way through the whole book, the chapters often read like single units or serializations. Plot points are often re-explained in a way that the reader of the work as a single book would not need, and in the end one gets little in the way of resolution. What I learned from the biography gave me concrete evidence for this feeling. That narrative inconclusiveness and general lack of an overarching, traditional plot structure is one thing that really attracts me to Kawabata’s work (at least his longer works).
Another element of his style which attracts me is the elliptical haiku-esque nature of his writing. Kawabata leaves much unsaid, only hinted at, a style that often echoes the reserved and often socially awkward characters.
A recent link back here to my review of Yokohama Kaidaishi Kikou got me thinking about it’s very classic Japanese style similar in some ways to Kawabata’s work. And now, I realize, I already posted about this in the post about Sound of the Mountain that I wrote on my second reading of it almost exactly two years ago (odd how that happened). So I will now refer you back to both of those posts (sometimes I’m even surprised at what I find in the archives).
I can’t believe you beat me to it. Haha. Although you’re clearly more well versed in Kawabata’s work than I am.
When I stumbled across him at work and thought that he sounded interesting the work that I chose to pick up to introduce myself to him was the Palm-of-the-Hand Stories, which it sounds like you would really love. They’re distillations of stories down to their very essence, most taking place over a single scene or, in some cases, single dream. Apparently he wrote them instead of poetry all throughout his life, and claimed that they were his ideal format.
The book that I was reading concurrently was Edward Morse’s 1886 text, Japanese Homes and Their Surroundings, published by Dover and, if it’s filed elsewhere as it is in my bookstore, in the architecture section of your local book dealer. It’s a great accompaniment, lavishly illustrated and extremely educational, not to mention entertaining. The time periods don’t exactly match up to Kawabata’s work, but I figured since Kawabata seemed to write more about the countryside than the cities that his settings were likely to be more traditional, and thus in keeping with what Morse so precisely and wonderfully describes and illustrates.
Did you read Penguin’s collection of Akutagawa with the great Tatsumi cover illustration (my introduction to his work), or some other collection I’m not familiar with? He’s got another collection put out by Archipelago press, which looks like a great publisher, but I’ve had a hard time working up the necessary enthusiasm to pick it up. Always so much more to get to, isn’t there?
I read The Palm of the Hand stories a few years back and I don’t recall loving them. Perhaps they were too distilled? I should try them again.
I’ll have to look up that Morse book (I’m sure the library has a copy). I tend to picture all the homes in Kawabata through the lens of Ozu films.
I was reading the Archipelago press collection of Akutagawa, a gift from Will:
http://ajourneyroundmyskull.blogspot.com/