Yukio Mishima

The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea

“Assembled there were the moon and a feverish wind, the incited, naked flesh of a man and a woman, sweat, perfume, the scars of a life at sea, dim memory of ports around the world, a cramped breathless peephole, a young boy’s iron heart - but these cards from a gypsy deck were scattered, prophesying nothing. The universal order at last achieved, thanks to the sudden, screaming horn, had revealed an ineluctable circle of life - the cards had paired: Noboru and mother - mother and man - man and sea - sea and Noboru…”

Before I get to why this story didn’t quite speak to me, I will cede this one very important point: As I have experienced in most Japanese literature I have read so far, this book has a beautifully delicate balance between the monotony of the outside world and the turmoil of inner thoughts that switch back and forth smoothly. A deeply woven thread of darkness takes this sick little story into the allegory territory, with powerful insights and incredible imagery to blow your socks off.

That being said, let’s get to why I didn’t quite enjoy this book.

As compelling and knife-sharp as this story was, I felt that it had only two settings:

1. A deep well of inner thoughts and desires of characters at which we are offered the shallowest of looks, making them too incomplete or indecipherable

2. A frozen moment of clarity in time where we look at very shallow things with impressively powerful metaphors that come to very little in the greater sense of the story

The result for me was potentially devastating writing that unfortunately failed to deliver the punch.

“Assembled there were the moon and a feverish wind, the incited, naked flesh of a man and a woman, sweat, perfume, the scars of a life at sea, dim memory of ports around the world, a cramped breathless peephole, a young boy’s iron heart - but these cards from a gypsy deck were scattered, prophesying nothing. The universal order at last achieved, thanks to the sudden, screaming horn, had revealed an ineluctable circle of life - the cards had paired: Noboru and mother - mother and man - man and sea - sea and Noboru…”

---------------------------------

Before I get to why this story didn’t quite speak to me, I will cede this one very important point: As I have experienced in most Japanese literature I have read so far, this book has a beautifully delicate balance between the monotony of the outside world and the turmoil of inner thoughts that switch back and forth smoothly. A deeply woven thread of darkness takes this sick little story into the allegory territory, with powerful insights and incredible imagery to blow your socks off.

That being said, let’s get to why I didn’t quite enjoy this book.

As compelling and knife-sharp as this story was, I felt that it had only two settings:
1. A deep well of inner thoughts and desires of characters at which we are offered the shallowest of looks, making them too incomplete or indecipherable
2. A frozen moment of clarity in time where we look at very shallow things with impressively powerful metaphors that come to very little in the greater sense of the story

The result for me was potentially devastating writing that unfortunately failed to deliver the punch.

For the first half of the book (“Summer”), Mishima constructs a scenery that’s akin to a classic melodrama: Fusako, a beautiful and rich widowed mother,  engages in a whirlwind romance with Ryuji, a sailor. Her 13 year old son Noboru idolizes the strong and melancholic man for the freedom he embodies. As Ryuji sails out to sea again, mother and son have to bid their farewells - but as Ryuji returns to marry Fusako in “Winter” and Noboru understands that the sailor is not what he seemed to be at first, things start to disintegrate.

A deliciously painful story about longings that can never be quelled and the hubris of youth.

Nezumi

For the first half of the book (“Summer”), Mishima constructs a scenery that’s akin to a classic melodrama: Fusako, a beautiful and rich widowed mother,  engages in a whirlwind romance with Ryuji, a sailor. Her 13 year old son Noboru idolizes the strong and melancholic man for the freedom he embodies. As Ryuji sails out to sea again, mother and son have to bid their farewells - but as Ryuji returns to marry Fusako in “Winter” and Noboru understands that the sailor is not what he seemed to be at first, things start to disintegrate.

A deliciously painful story about longings that can never be quelled and the hubris of youth.

amelo

ravio

i think i would of enjoyed this book more as a movie. language was very beautiful though, can't deny that.

The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea

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