The Master of Go by Yasunari Kawabata: Breaking (and lamenting) the stalemate between tradition and modernity

Confronted with a changing world, there is the great temptation for a writer to use symbols to portray the ongoing change - to reminisce about the old times and somehow contrast the worlds old and new. In the case of Kawabata, a journalist who actually covered the events tht form the basis of The Master of Go, it would have been quite natural to use the battle between Old, invincible master and the young challenger to symbolize the changing world. But instead, Kawabata masterfully crafts intimate portraits of the people involved: the obsessed Master, the driven challenger, and the people around them. They then create the sense of change without telling about it, succeeding in what writers ought to succeed: showing, not telling, the message they wish to convey.

The story begins at the ending: the old Master is defeated, and eventually succumbs to death. Perhaps there is no plot at all to speak of, since the climax has already come. Yet the delight in reading the story does not lie in its plot, but they way each event is told: there is the narrator's sympathetic view of the Master, the sequence of scheduled games written in sparse prose, yet set in the most poignant of Japanese scenes: a hot spring inn and its old designs, the cherry blossoms, the trees... Minute details are very important in this short masterpiece.
The mental burden of defending his title proves too much for the Master, and his sicknesses force delays on the matches -- delays which the young challenger is not too keen to accept. This conflict causes headaches for the organizers, but the match pushes through. Mention is given of the old times when the master sets the rules; there is no need for strict regulations to govern the game. There are subtleties that a Go player may be able to appreciate more and of course there will be a lot of things that are lost in translation, but a reader who has no background of the game will still understand and appreciate the novel.

Even though it is a 'sad story', there is another theme, more subdued but equally overwhelming: that of beauty. No Western author will be able to beautify a game of chess, say, between . But for the author and his characters - the game is an act of beauty and regardless of how much Japanese culture has changed since their times, it remains so. Thankfully, Kawabata has given us a window to glimpse at it.

The Temple of the Golden Pavillon by Yukio Mishima: The irony of beauty and destruction

The darkness and terror of this novel surpasses The Stranger by Camus, and equals The Brothers Karamazov by Dostoyevsky. I am still absorbed by the story and its depth, its sorrow. Having finished the novel just minutes ago, I am troubled and disturbed, though at the same time relieved. It would take awhile before I can fully grasp the meaning of the novel. It is an exploration in the psyche of the youth, and being a young one myself, I would have to fully discover my identity and my purpose to understand Mizoguchi. He was Holden Caulfield in the Japanese context, but he possesses something clearly universal in today’s youth: anxiety, rejection, and the depression that would follow.

I am only sad for him, and also for Tsurukawa, who is my favorite character in the novel. Why? For he offers such cheer in spite of his hidden sorrow. It reflects Mishima’s assertion of the state of the Japanese youth in his time. As Kashiwagi, he is the other side of the youth of Japan, who lives for the moment. He is not spared from having a distorted notion about things.

Like Mizoguchi whose last words in the novel were ‘I wanted to live.’, I too, want to live, and I will live. The difference between Mizoguchi and me is, I have direction. I have faith in my God whereas Mizoguchi had no real God to depend on; his faith was based on objects, and Superior Dosen who lived an immoral life. Perhaps family ties, that so called Hsiao or filial piety, is falling apart in Japan? If Mishima’s portrait is accurate this is so, as seen in Mizoguchi’s total apathy for his mother and father. The psychological approach may say otherwise, but that’s a different discussion.

Yukio Mishima, despite his confused life and violent suicide, did not disappoint me. I am very pleased with The Temple of the Golden Pavillon; it convinces all the more that the great works of Japanese Literature – Mishima’s novels counted – belong to such a high form of art.

Grass for His Pillow by Lian Hearn: The tale continues with same suspenseful, lyrical narrative

Still enchanted by the Across the Nightingale Floor, I didn’t hesitate to buy Grass For His Pillow by Lian Hearn for more than P1000. Again, despite my attempted restraint, I wasn’t able to last long without finishing Grass for His Pillow. And I tell you, the price I paid was more than worth it. This second book is more fast-paced than the first one, and we witness here the maturity of Takeo and the transformation of Kaede from a ‘mere pawn’ in the battles of the lords’ to the lady of her domain, capable in action and tactful in speech.

It begins as Takeo enters the world of the Tribe – crafty, skillful assassins possessing supernatural powers. He finds about his real father’s world, but, after enduring their training and apathy (they are only after his abilities, not him – that is, he is just a means to an end), he realizes that this is not the path he wants to for his life. Within him is a struggle between two loyalties – that to the Tribe and that to Lord Otori. It is also a struggle between his love for Kaede and his present life. Eventually, he makes the decision to leave the Tribe – choosing a path he wants no matter how it takes. Such decision echoes The Alchemist by Coelho: To realize one’s destiny is a person’s only obligation. For Takeo, pursuing his dreams and risking death is far better than living and yet not realizing his destiny. Takeo may have foolishly risked his own life, but his courage is highly admired. Greatness never belongs to those unwilling to take paths to worlds beyond.

Meanwhile, Kaede bravely deals with her domain and the lords of the clans. While she knows Lord Arai is her liege, she nonetheless manages to put up a subtle defiance with her tact. In the end, her defiance culminates with her secret marriage with Takeo (reminiscent of Padme Amidala and Anakin Skywalker in Star Wars). There are side characters whose participation in the ‘Tales’ make it all the more full of verve and action. Shizuka, for instance, who is also torn between her loyalty to Kaede and her allegiance to the Tribe. Takeo, in his time of great difficulty, finds solace and friendship in Makoto, and in the temple where the story ends. The philosophy is: every action has a consequence. It is very much Zen Buddhism, but it is true. Thus, the secret marriage of Takeo and Kaede also has a consequence – what that consequence is we are yet to find out.

Brilliantly conceived and masterfully written, The Tales of the Otori is a great inspiration for people who wish to make a difference in their lives – and that of others. It is an encouragement to those who have lost hope, and enlightenment to those have it. For young ones, it is a profound illustration of growing up and hurdling the challenges along the way. It treats life as one great adventure which we must cherish and make the most of.

Across the Nightingale Floor by Lian Hearn: A great tale of adventure

If the Japanese treasure beauty and honor, then Across the Nightingale Floor by Lian Hearn would for them be indeed a rare jewel. The book possesses such charm, adventure, and romance, that one is at once transported into the realm of the Otori and the lands beyond, the place where there lives a young boy named Tomasu. Across the Nightingale Floor is the story of his life, how he came home one day only to find his family massacred, how he escaped from the evil Lord Iida and how he was rescued by the benevolent Lord Otori. This Lord Otori, whose father and brother died in battle against Lord Iida, takes care of Tomasu, renames him as Takeo, and makes him his adopted son. Takeo soon grows to be a brilliant lad, skilled in the sword and the pen, charming and bright. He, being the son of a gifted assassin with special powers, is initiated into the arts of an order called The Tribe. He is quick to learn, and very soon made Lord Otori Shigeru proud of him.

But that’s just the beginning: Lord Otori is forced to marry the young Kaede, daughter of another feudal lord. He knows if he acquiesces to this plan, Lord Iida will destroy him and his people, so he devised a plan: Takeo will walk through the nightingale floor – a special floor that ‘sings’ or squeaks like a nightingale – and kill Lord Iida. Meanwhile, Kaede arrives in Lord Otori’s castle and upon seeing Takeo, instantly falls in love with him. Takeo notices this at once, and in no time they understand what feelings they have for each other. There are many subsequent plot twists and turns, but all of them are logical conclusions. All the characters act as they are supposed to act, based on their personalities, but the reader is still surprised, captivated, and awed by the action and adventure. Across the Nightingale Floor has echoes of Star Wars and Lord of the Rings, but this observation would all the more point to the fact that the Tales of the Otori has indeed the qualities of an epic adventure, focused on one boy and his beloved.

There is a certain quality in the writing that makes it smooth and surprisingly eloquent. More surprising is the fact that Lian Hearn is an Australian, for many years a stranger to the Japanese way of life.

Takeo is not presented as a perfect being: indeed, he has many faults although it is not noticed as the book is written in the first-person point of view.

I can’t wait to read the second book of the Otori trilogy, Grass for His Pillow. I am confident that Hearn will not fail to sustain the beauty that is Kaede, the adventure that is Takeo.

Norweigian Wood by Haruki Murakami: The essence of youthful wandering

One of favorite books is Norweigian Wood by Haruki Murakami. I bought my copy in Tokyo - in a two-book format that's very convenient for the Japanese who hate idle moments and read books whenever they're riding subway trains.

Just like many of his works, the title of the book is named after a song (in this case, by the Beatles) and it is written in the first-person perspective by a young man, in this case a teeanger named Toru Watanabe.

It is essentially a coming-of-age novel but it is worlds apart from Holden Caulfield of Catcher in the Rye or other similar American novels; the rebelliousness and pessimism of youth is there but so are uniquely Japanese themes such as loneliness, coming to terms with loss (so common in the nation with the highest suicide rates in the world), and a sort of sexuality that may actually seem perverted to some but is narrated in a casual, non-erotic way in the novel.

The plot is not really exceptional. His best friend kills himself at a young age, leaving him and his best friend's girlfriend Naoko emotionally attached to each other. The experience drives Naoko crazy. Meanwhile, Toru meets another girl Midori with a character quite different from Naoko, and in the end they wind up together.

Yet it is the heartfelt, nostalgic tone and the wit that makes the novel a great read. It conjures up the most vivid descriptions of student life and creates unforgettable characters that will make you laugh and cry. Finally, the character is not presented in any other way but as who he is: a frail human being longing for someone to hold on to (just like the rest of us). In the end he holds on to the symbolic telephone line - connected to someone.