The Sound of the Mountain by Yasunari Kawabata (tr. Edward M Seidensticker)

“Though August had only begun, autumn insects were already singing.

He thought he could detect a dripping of dew from leaf to leaf.

Then he heard the sound of the mountain.”

This poetic novel by one of Japan’s truly great writers, Yasunari Kawabata, reflects on the life of an old man named Shingo who lives in Tokyo with his family. Shingo is old, his world is changing and it seems increasingly out of his control. One night Shingo wakes and hears the sound of the mountain, as described here.

“It was like wind, far away, but with a depth like a rumbling of the earth. Thinking that it might be in himself, a ringing in the ears, Shingo shook his head.

The sound stopped, and he was suddenly afraid. A chill passed over him, as if he had been notified that death is approaching. He wanted to question himself, calmly and deliberately, to ask whether it had been the sound of the wind, the sound of the sea, or a sound in his ears. But he had heard no such sound, he was sure. He had heard the mountain.

It was as if a demon had passed, making the mountain sound out.”

Shingo lives with his wife Yasuko, his son Suichi and his son’s wife Kikuko. Yasuko and Shingo have another daughter, Fusako, whose marriage is in trouble. But concerning Shingo more is the trouble in the marriage between Shuichi and Kikuko. Shuichi is having an affair with another woman, a matter which causes Kikuko much pain and humiliation. Shingo is extremely fond of Kikuko and in a sense this fondness is the pivot around which the story unwinds. From his gentle interactions with Kikuko we learn of a man who is paralysed by age, by a dwindling memory, by a failure to understand the world around him including his children, by choices he had made which it seems he wishes he could unmake. Though not unhappy in his own marriage, Shingo’s mind still lingers on Yasuko’s beautiful sister, a woman with whom he had a relationship before his marriage to Yasuko. In fact it was only after the sister had died that Shingo married Yasuko, albeit that the sister had been married to another man. The difficulties in the relationships between Shuichi and Kikuko, as well as the failure of Fusako’s marriage, bring this all into Shingo’s mind.

The Sound of the Mountain is a delicate and complex novel. Though apparently ‘light’ on story, there is a depth to it and a strength of character which comes through more on reflection. Each chapter is based around a small event or observation: The Cherry in Winter, The Bell in Spring, The Voice in the Night; and each chapter brings out something of Shingo’s life or surrounding relationships. Supporting each observation or event is a memory or dream; dreams figure extremely heavily in this novel and serve to draw out a particular aspect of Shingo’s character – his inaction, his failing memory, his desires for Kikuko who may, it seems, serve as a metaphor for Yasuko’s sister for whom Shingo has never ceased to care. There is a haiku-esque quality to the book, both in style and in substance, like in this passage here:

“The moon was in a blaze. Or so, just then, it seemed to Shingo.

The clouds around the moon made him think of flames behind Acala in a painting, or a painting of a fox-spirit. They were coiling, twisting clouds.

But the clouds, and the moon too, were cold and faintly white. Shingo felt autumn coming over him.

The moon, high in the east, was almost full. It lay in a blaze of clouds, it was dimmed by them.

There were no other clouds near the blaze in which the moon lay. In a single night after the storm the sky had turned a deep black.

The shops were shuttered. The town too had taken on a melancholy aspect in the course of the night. People were on their way home from the movie through silent, deserted streets.

‘I couldn’t sleep last night. I’m going to be early.’ Shingo felt a lonely chill pass over him, and a yearning for human warmth.

And it was as if a crucial moment had come, as if a decision were forcing itself upon him.”

It is quite beautiful, made more so by there being so much left unsaid. I got the impression that Shingo, here, serves to represent pre-war Japan, whereas Shuichi, with his apparent cruelty and disregard for his kind and beautiful wife, represents post-war Japan. Between the old and the new there is a failure of understanding. There is a suggestion that the new is somehow soulless, lacking something. But then there is also the sense of something degraded in the old. In between this, Shingo feels himself powerless to act, to fulfil the role that is expected of him which, perhaps, no longer really exists.

The Sound of the Mountain is the kind of novel that reminds me of all the things I’ve loved about Japanese literature: its delicacy, its beauty and frailty, its unflinching gaze which still manages to be, somehow, just a little bit oblique like watching a scene through a fine gauze curtain. In this novel Kawabata confronts the complexities of human relationships, the difficulties of aging and attaining fulfilment, guilt and degradation, all with a level of refinement and delicacy that you almost don’t realize that’s what you’re reading about. It’s powerful stuff, beautifully written. A haiku of a novel, puzzling and rewarding all at the same time.  

10 Japanese writers everyone should read

Thanks to the growing availability of writers in translation, it is now possible to easily access writers from other cultures. I have a particular fondness for Japanese writers, having explored their works as liberally as I am able. The following list is not exhaustive, but is a reasonable guide to the breadth of Japanese writing worth exploring. There are some notable omissions. For example, I haven’t included Murasaki Shikibu or Sei Shonagon, both of whom are extremely worth reading. Other notable omissions include Yukio Mishima and Kenzaburo Oe who are both great writers whose works are interesting but didn’t appeal to me. If you’re interested in exploring Japanese writing, it is worth getting hold of the Oxford Book of Japanese Short Stories which will give you a broad spread of the best the Japanese have to offer. It is a great collection in and of itself, and a worthy presence in my library.

1. Yoko Ogawa

Yoko Ogawa

Ogawa is the mistress of dark, psychological stories. She explores the darker, less understandable parts of human nature with an unflinching eye. Hotel Iris explores a sado-masochistic relationship between a young woman and an older man, The Diving Pool collects stories of obsession. Surprisingly, one of my favourite novels by Ogawa is the highly contrasted The Housekeeper and the Professor, which is a sweet and uplifting book. Whichever Ogawa you find, she is absorbing and deeply psychological. A thrilling writer, unafraid to explore the dark side of the human experience.

2. Natsuo Kirino

Another female writer exploring the dark side of human, or perhaps more accurately women’s, nature. Violence and crime, domestic violence, adultery, murder, sex and death. Kirino shines an unforgiving light on all of these issues. I particularly enjoyed her entry to the Canongate myths series The Goddess Chronicle which explores the legend of Iznami and Izanaki the god of life and goddess of death, cast alongside the story of a young Japanese woman tied to a terrible fate. Kirino highlights the barrenness and difficulty for women in Japan who are, too easily, tied to a life without choices. She’s a rip-roaring read too, exciting and terrifying.  

Weird, I say

3. Kobo Abe

Abe is weird, really weird. I can’t tell you how weird. Perhaps most famous for The Woman in the Dunes, the story of a man who becomes trapped in a village drowning in sand, whose daily task is solely to prevent the sand from crushing his prison, Abe also wrote about a man who lives in a box (The Box Man, it’s creepy) and a man who wakes to find radish sprouts growing out of his legs (Kangaroo Notebook). Weird I tell you (but extremely compelling).

4. Yasunari Kawabata

Everything Kawabata wrote was exquisite. Exquisite is simply the only word to describe this writer. There’s a sparseness in his writing, a simplicity which belies the underlying complexity of his stories. It is the ritual of the Japanese tea ceremony captured in novel form, perhaps most openly in the novel The Master of Go which focuses entirely upon an extraordinary game of Go. My recommendation would be the wonderful Beauty and Sadness, though Snow Country is also well worth a read.

5. Ryunosuke Akutagawa

Toshiro Mifune...mmm

Famous for the story ‘Under a Bamboo Grove’ which became one of Kurosawa’s most famous movies Rashomon (which is actually the title of the collection, not the story itself). Under a Bamboo Grove is famous for the way in which it explores the same event – the rape of a woman in said grove and subsequent murder (or is it suicide) of her husband – from the perspectives of the three participants none of which give the same account of the incident. It is perhaps the most extreme example of the unreliable narrator and leaves you wondering who, if anybody, you can ever believe.

6. Fumiko Enchi

tense & difficult

Enchi is difficult to get hold of in translation, but her novels are worth the effort of tracking down. Another writer with an unflinching gaze; her novels give a sense of tension and claustrophobia whilst projected in a seemingly ordinary domestic setting. The Waiting Years is a tense and difficult novel exploring the dominion of one man over his wife and youthful mistresses. It is an oppressive but impressive read.

7. Jun’ichiro Tanizaki

The Key and Diary of a Man Old Man follow a similar theme, older men enacting a sexual obsession. But how alone are those men in acting out that obsession? Erotic and disturbing, both novels shine a light on the nature of sexual desire particularly in older relationships. For a more conservative taste, The Makioka Sisters follows the decline of an upper class family in the pre-war years. Tanizaki is a diverse writer who focuses on inter-relationships with a fresh and fearless eye.

8. Banana Yoshimoto

Banana Yoshimoto is a growing writer, a writer who appears to be growing before my eyes. Worth reading Kitchen, a collection of novellas about loss and Asleep a collection of novellas surrounding the theme of sleep. Banana Yoshimoto’s work has a youthful and personable feel, whilst addressing difficult issues of identity, loss and sense of purpose.

9. Hiromi Kawakami

Gorgeous cover

Not just because Strange Weather in Tokyo has the best cover ever, but because it is also an excellent book. Another novel exploring an unusual relationship between a woman and an older man who used to be her schoolteacher. The behaviour of both parties borders on strange, and nothing about their relationship is commonplace.  

10. Haruki Murakami

I almost didn’t add Murakami to the list, perhaps because he is so well known already or perhaps because I’ve lost faith in Murakami as a writer. But to leave him out would be unfair; whilst I haven’t gelled with his more recent works (1Q84 is an abomination of bad characterisation) his earlier works still hold much of interest. Norwegian Wood is perhaps the best known of his earlier works, but it is Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World which most grabs my attention. It’s a story with a split identity and will leave you with a curious fondness for your shadow for a long time after reading. Another surprisingly good read from Murakami is Underground, a chilling factual exploration of the Tokyo Underground sarin gas attacks, a book guaranteed to make you question exactly what you would do if someone ordered you to do it.