Customer Reviews

Kokoro

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Classic Western novels usually concentrate on plot and some action which delineates it, though there are many exceptions to the rule. Japanese novels, however, often focus on human feelings first of all, with plot taking a distant second place. Natsume Soseki's novels fit very well into this framework and KOKORO is a strong example. ['Kokoro' means "heart" or "feelings".] The book is divided into three parts. The first explores the relationship between the narrator and Sensei, a lonely intellectual who maintains few contacts with the world, but explains life to the innocent narrator, a student, who bears a passing relationship to Carlos Castaneda in "The Teachings of Don Juan" because he steadfastly fails "to get it". The second part portrays the relationship of the narrator to his parents, while the third and longest part is a testament by Sensei explaining to the young narrator why he became the type of man he is, i.e. he tells his life story. Though the relationships between narrator, Sensei, a young girl, and a fellow-student named only K are explored in depth, there is little of what might be termed plot. Despite there being a love triangle and two suicides, the author prefers to concentrate on the characters' thoughts instead of details of action. Soseki's skill is such that he fascinates the reader with the exploration of personality. There is no florid pyschoanalysis, no sex, no wall-banging despair and certain aspects are never explained---for example, why the narrator liked Sensei to begin with. Yet, by the end of the novel, the reader has a strong picture of the narrator, Sensei, and the unfortunate K. You understand their motivations and feel, as in so much great literature of all countries, the helplessness of Man, the vanity of Life.

We may say that in KOKORO, Soseki wrote about the different shades of friendship that exist between people and asks if it is really possible to have a true friend. The corollary is then, are we not all alone ? Are not friendship and love cosmetics to cover basic loneliness ? People speak of sacrifice, but more often than not, they sacrifice not themselves, but others, at the shrine of their own desolation. These are universal themes and so KOKORO is an interesting novel which I recently re-read. If you are looking for a good introduction into modern Japanese literature, this is definitely an excellent choice---mature, thought-provoking, and well-written.

All of these are themes found in Japanese art, and all have a home in "Kokoro." Kokoro translates to heart or soul or spirit, and this book does justice to its title. Inside this slim volume is a testament of spirit, of youth and age, of man and woman, of ancient and modern juxtapositions of kokoro. What is love? What is friendship? What is responsibility?

The writing style is slow and delicate, with a precise economy of ideas and words. The translation is excellent, lending credible authenticity to the language. The Ideas, of course, need little interpretation as they are human in nature, and can be understood by all. Small cultural notes, such as the important suicide of General Nogi, are wisely footnoted and explained to deepen understanding of the narrative.

The simple story of Sensei, his wife, the young man and his family lay a basic framework upon which to weave the emotions that are the true focus.

Overall, while a book with an extremely Japanese flavor, it does transcend the barriers and gets at the inner life, the kokoro.

Most of us Japanese people read this novel called "Kokoro"(Kokoro means Heart.) when we are high school students in a japanese class. Our Japanese text books always include this Kokoro. So most of students read and study how our greatest writer was worried in those days. Add to it, this writer, Sohseki is one of the most greatest writer in Japan at the Meiji era. He turned from an English professor to a novelist. At the Meiji era, we japanese decided to accept European culture with changing our own unique life style. So the elite professor like Sohseki was very annoyed between European culture that suddenly come enter to our life and our traditional culture. Yes, most of Sohseki's works are "unfinished" as novel. Kokoro was't finished, either. We can call it this novel is very ambiguous, vague, obscure. Sohseki just presents us complicated, unfathomable, but delicate, deliberate, deep and serious themes in this novel. Presumably this Kokoro was unsuccessful work as novel, however, all sides of our life are not always completely "finished", are they? Sohseki's works are really our precious fortune.

I became a fan of Soseki after I read "Botchan" and "I am a cat" - both were fascinating books. Then I found "kokoro" in a book shop in SF. I am glad i bought it. This is a different genre of book - more of introspection and constructive criticism of the post Meiji Japan. I took a long time to read the book, like I do to read Kawabata - the culture is vastly different and most of the ideas are not explicit - you have to think imagine. Actually another great Japanese author, Junichiro Tanizaki, said that the modern day writer is too kind to the reader - so you have to think and interpret while you read.
The book is written in first person (it is quite autobiographical). It explores the feelings of a young college graduate - it examines his feelings. The narrator is obsessed with his friend, philosopher and guide whom he refers as "sensei" even though this person in return do not have the same feelings for the narrator in the beginning. Still he directs the narrator through some of the torturous path of life. The narrators father is in his death bed when he receives the last mail from his "sensei" - the contents of this letter covers later half of the book. In the letter his teacher narrates his own life.
Two things to notice - the absence of religious overtones or under currents and the respect for death. As I have read Mishima, Akutagawa I have found that in Japanese culture death has a more profound meaning than just the end of life. More than often this end of life is preceded by the objective of going on to live and in its absence death seems to be the obvious choice even though ominous.
Here also we find quite a few death but everybody, which includes the person who is dying and his or her close ones look for the objective of living. The status of women may provide a little sting to western readers but please realize that this is near end of Meiji era is Japan and not Las Vegas in 2004.
Please do not try to read this book in your flight from Boston to LA or you will be bored to death better read it in the Christmas holidays

Kokoro ("the heart of the matter") is a great introduction to the japanese modern culture and it's effect on the transitional ("Meiji") generation. Japan lived in pleasant isolation until in 1857 it's eyes were opened to western imperialism. In order to protect itself and it's culture (having seen what was happening in China), the japanese Emporer Meiji ORDERED an industrial modernization of the country.

In one generation, the japanese went from a backwater feudal country to a world power (in 1905 they defeated both the Russian Army and Navy, the first Asian power to defeat a European nation in modern times). They built a modern navy based on the British model and an army based on the Prussian. They also totally revamped their education system, so that it emphasised science and mathematics.

The "Meiji" generation, was the one that stood in both cultures, they had been children of the old and adults in the new. They were much like the first generation of an immigrant familly, that still spoke their "native" language, but lived totally in the American culture.

Any sociologist will tell you that 'these' people are never really comfortable in either. They feel sad about 'deserting' their heritage; but also envy those who feel so at home in the new country. An immigrant child will always admit that they themselves fail to see how well they fit in; they only see where they are lacking. They also tend to be very self critical.

This book handles these problems in a very japanese way.

The subject matter of this charming Japanese novel by one of the dozen or so greatest writers of the 20th century, is the loneliness spanning two generations of Japanese men. A story within a story, it begins with an exposition of the profound influence one man, Sensei, has on a young friend (the narrator) and in particular, the devastating consequences that Sensei's cataclysmic decision has on the narrator's life. Later in the book we hear Sensei's own story in which he describes the devastating consequences had on his own life by a cataclysmic decision made by one of the people he valued most. The book is deceptively simple but floods with lyrical beauty. It is a book that lives on in your mind for a long time, and taps into the inevitable feeling that we all have from time to time that we are alone, swallowed by the "silence of the whirlpool". Awesome. Read it and never regret it.

In Kokoro, Soseki simultaneously amazes the reader with his simplicity of style, though never lacking in gorgeous and visually stunning language. Beautifully written, Kokoro evokes the most fundamental of human desires--the need for companionship and the results of having it snatched from you.

Natsume Soseki creates a fictional space of characters that does not move, or moves very little, throughout the entire course of the novel. Quickly we learn the main focus of the novel is a man named Sensei, whose past is clouded in mystery, leaving a suspenseful curiousity that does not resolve itself until the very end.

Sensei's relationship with the young boy, although a salve to the lonesomeness both feel (for both the young boy growing up in modern Tokyo and a reclusive old man living alone with his wife), is tainted by Sensei's mysterious past about which he refuses to talk. From the narration, we gather a sense of the deep internal torment conflicting Sensei, but are not explicitly told why. His dark apprehensions continue to haunt him up until the present time, many years later. It is not until Sensei's final epistle before he kills himself, a story-in-itself which takes up the entire second half, that Sensei explains the rationale for his brooding and unsettling behavior ever since the suicide of his boyhood friend, "K".

Throughout the letter, we witness Sensei's most vulnerable weaknesses, and also his increasingly looming guilt over the feelings he could not help but harbor for K during his jealous fits for their admiree, Ojosan. In effect, we have a story wrapped up in its own emotional turmoil, and central to it all, though sadly unaware that they are, the victims: Ojosan, who later does become Sensei's wife, and, in some manner, the narrator, who is at a loss for his mentor's great escape from his undead reality. At the end, though, we see some resolution both physically and emotionally. Sensei's original intent to honor his friend through the taking of his own life is finally realized, and not with sadness. Soseki makes this point clear by the end that it would've been far worse had Sensei lived on as he did in paralysis, thereby perpetuating his own lingering guilt and the irreconciliable guilt he induced in others, particularly, Ojosan. Also, Sensei's need to preserve beauty at all costs, even at the expense of truth and a chance at redeemed happiness for both he and his wife, dies as another symbol of restoration that results from Sensei's death. Thus, in a matter of roundabout-ness, Soseki succeeds in conveying the equilibrium that is restored through the commission of right deeds.

By the end, we are forced to consider Sensei as a good, but ultimately flawed and deeply cowardly, man who ends up doing the right thing.

Unfortunately, the sitting on Sensei's inner embattlement with both his own cowardice and his jealousy of K becomes too much of a stumbling block and causes the narrative to become paralyzingly slow. Though it suceeds in eliciting pathos at first, it repeats in somewhat agonizing fashion; the characters do not seem to change at all during the course of the story. Indeed, the story-logic becomes somewhat circular, showing the irrational inconsistencies that emotional strife wrecks on the mind. I found this as somewhat of an annoyance and particularly galling was the fact that the tripartite divisioning of the story leaves out all traces of the original thread, which describes the burgeoning relationship between Sensei and the narrator. Their surrogate kinship is never returned to after the opening segment and one wonders whether Soseki was aware of this loose end in the novel; if so, then the entire first half of the book was unncessary--just the final epistle would've been sufficient to convey his admittedly morbid sentiments about love as it pertained to the tragedy of this young man, who, in the end, proved himself capable of heroicism.

The book does shine, though, in some parts, especially in its discussion of love's two-headed spear. That even in one's victory in gaining love, there is guilt over the taking of it from another. This is Soseki's primary message, among others, that motivates the telling of his story, and it is one that would've been even more potent had the prose been more concentrated into its most essential parts, namely, the beginning and the end. Had this been a short story, the poignancy of the message would not have been lost. As it is, the theme comes across at best as diluted and overly melodramatic, both mistakes characteristic of amateur writers, though we should not expect this from a legend like Soseki.

Kokoro is a classic of Japanese literature. It follows the story of a young man who meets an elder one, who he calls Sensei (teacher, elder, master). Sensei is at first very mysterious about his past, but the young man learns slowly of his deep loneliness and its causes. Sensei had a life of betrayal and love turned sour.

The book is divided up into three sections: Sensei and I, My parents and I, and Sensei and his Testament. The first chronicles the two men's meeting and their relationship. The second describes the narrator going home to his parents only to find that he has changed so much that he no longer feels at home with them, and in fact honors Sensei above them. The last is a letter written to the narrator by Sensei, telling of Sensei's past.

I must caution any prospective reader about two things. First, the book is slow moving. There are very few exciting scenes, but many pondorous ones. This is due partly to the translation. Having read the book first in Japanese, I think it is a bit faster paced in its native language. Second, the author assumes that the reader knows some things about Japanese culture instinctivily. Occasionally, you may find that a character's action which the author doesn't bother to explain seems puzzling. I believe that any dedicated reader can, however, work through these obstacles and truly enjoy this book.

When the book is finished, readers often find themselves struggling with Sensei's character. He has been through terrible things, but what of that? People recover from worse things than he has passed through, and still seem cheerful enough. Why must he be so weak willed?

The answer to these riddles lies in the book's title. "Heart," it might be, translated, or "center," or "emotion." Sensei says of his own heart, "You see, loneliness is the price we have to pay for being born in this modern age, so full of freedom, independence, and our own egotistical selves."

Delicate and poetic, but without a hint of weakness or artifice, this virtually flawless, deceptively "easy" novel speaks volumes (and does so with an incomparable style and gift) about the essence of the human condition. Man is destined to be alone -- and to know it. And that knowledge is what compels him to seek, however futilely, connectedness. In "Kokoro," Soseki has indeed plumbed the heart's core. Strongly recommended.