Customer Reviews

The Makioka Sisters

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4 star:		(9)
3 star:		(2)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(3)

 

 

The Makioka Sisters is a special novel for two reasons. Much of Japanese literature this century is very taut and relatively short. One thinks of Soseki, Mishima, Dazai, Kawabata and the two most important of Tanizaki's other novels, Some Prefer Nettles and Diary of a Mad Old Man. Instead of being 150-200 pages, this book is around 500 pages. The popular description of this book, about a merchant family in decline, might imply a book like Budenbrooks. Yet this book is very different from Thomas Mann's fine novel. For a start it only covers four years, not a couple of generations. More important the theme of decline is not a primary one, and Mann's theme of cultural enervation is absent.

What we have instead is a book that seeks to be a work of "photographic realism." It seeks to be "real" not in the sense that Flaubert or James or Tolstoy are realistic. Instead of portraying complex themes and ideas while keeping an eye on what would be actually plausible, Tanizaki seeks to describe what actually happens. This sort of realism is not highly valued since it is often unimiginative and often psychologically shallow. And indeed in this book it can often appear tedious and unrewarding. But a closer examination reveals certain virtues.

In a sense Tanizaki's book is "like life." The story of Taeko of of the youngest sister who cannot marry because custom dictates she must wait for her older sister Yukiko to be married. The story of her two possible fiancess and the eventual pre-marital pregnancy appear, not as part of a complex, organic scheme as, say, the story of Anna Karenina, but as a series of discrete events, moved often by coincidence and chance. A flood becomes a crucial event, one character is killed by a quack doctor, Taeko becomes ill with dystentry at a crucial moment, a proposal is botched because Yukiko cannot summon the courage to answer the telephone. Since this is often how life happens it is not unrealistic and indeed has a special value of perspective.

Tanizaki's sense of style and detail are also interesting. For example there is little on food (by contrast one remembers the Christmas dinner in Buddenbrooks). There is the Japanese emphasis on the intense aesthetic absorption in a taut, sparsely described expression of nature. Two of the leading incidents in the book describe watching cherry trees bloom and having a firefly hunt in the night. At one point Sachiko, the second sister and the most important one in the novel, watches her young daughter and her German friends plays with dolls and the German girl accurately tells where babies come from. It is interesting that Sachiko approves of this realism.

Most interesting is the fact that this book takes place from 1936 to 1940, during, of course, the Japanese invasion of China. Tanizaki itself stared writing the book during the second world war, and his publication was delayed on the grounds that it apparently did not help the war effort enough. It was not actually published until 1948, when Japan was occupied by the American occupation. How much did this change the political tone? Perhaps not as much as one might think, since the Makiokas write their German friends that they are pleased that their ally is doing so well in the summer of 1940. Yet at the same time the absence of ideology and fanaticism is striking. The Makiokas naturally agree with the austerity campaigns, they refer to the invasion as the "China Incident" like everyone else, and they vaguely wish for peace. This is not unrealistic per se (the Makiokas are probably too old to worry about conscription) and the absence of politics is also not unrealistic. After all women did not have the right to vote at this time. Before commenting on how the Makiokas have escaped the trap of ideology, and before making comparisons to Jane Austen, one should consider while reading this novel the idea that such privatism is essential to such a regime. Instead of totalitarianism smashing individuals and transforming themselves into empty masses, one should consider the insights of Rudy Koshar and William Sheridan Allen that regimes feed off this sort of privatism and political isolation.

The Makioka Sisters (Sasame Yuki, Light Snow), first published in 1948, was written by Junichiro Tanizaki (1886-1965). Tanizaki wrote The Makioka Sisters after translating the Tale of Genji into modern Japanese and the Murasaki novel is said to have influenced his own. It tells of the declining years of the once powerful Makioka family and their last descendants, four sisters. It has been translated by Edward G. Seidensticker in 1957. Powerfully realistic, it mourns the passing of greatness while celebrating in wonderfully evocative detail the beauty of a particular time and place, Osaka in the 1930s. In its creation of beauty out of sadness it can be compared to another family saga, The Maias (1888), by the Portuguese master Eça de Queiroz (1845-1900).

Why is this long book, largely concerned with trivial family procedures, one of the finest novels written? It is not concerned with great events, causes or philosophies. It has little concern with the war Japan was fighting with China, and then the USA, when the book was first published. Indeed its characters don't think about the war, and in a positive way, which doesn't trivialise their concerns at all (most people in fact don't think about the reasons for a war: perhaps it's better that way). This doesn't mean the book is escapist or superficial, just as the concern with women's lifestyle, dress, makeup, etiquette or social vanity make it something written just for women (books and films were once made - by men - to capitalise on what were considered women's 'little' concerns). Tanizaki does that wonderful thing a great artist can do, he finds the universal in the most exact examination of the particular, and makes a work of relevance to us all. Read another family saga, The Brothers Karamazov (1880) and my candidate for the greatest novel yet written (though I'm more than cynical about the word 'great') and marvel at the many routes artists find to the universal.

My review is impossibly partial: The Makioka Sisters is the most beautiful novel I've ever read. The language (translation) is so smooth and flowing, the characters and situations so gentle and muted, yet precise and meaningful, that reading the book is like seeing the universe in a drop of water - you see, which is moving, and awareness of where and how you see brings amazement and then a real pleasure.

In this beautiful book the characters have a greater degree of reality than many real people - Tanizaki is a great master of characterisation. I know more about them than I do about most of the people I know. It is done by the accumulation of enormous amounts of detail, but detail which, trivial though it may appear, is just right. The result is the creation of a most ethereal and delicate beauty, a lovely world crumbling to extinction yet all the more precious because of its inevitable passing away.

Sachiko, the second sister and her husband Teinosuke are that rare achievement, a convincing depiction of really good and admirable people, though in no way heroic. They are very ordinary people, but their goodness, their little troubles and worries, their faults, even weaknesses, all serve to charm and captivate. Of all the characters in the book these two are the loveliest. It is a real affirmation of humanity to have created two such kind and gentle and sensitive people, and to have made them so real and convincing.

The careworn life of Tsuruko (first sister), the hesitations of Yukiko (third sister), the unhappiness of Taeko (Koi-san, fourth sister) all gain from contrast with the stability and happiness of Sachiko and Teinosuke. And what an evocation of the old ways of Japan. Changing rapidly even as Tanizaki writes of them.

Detail by detail - Etsuko's games with the German girl Rosemarie, Itakura's leather coat, the 'old one', Koi-san's mimicry and mingled love and resentment of Yukiko...there are literally thousands of details. Teinosuke's love of Spring in his garden, the vitamin injections the sisters take, the forthrightness of Itani - all, everyone, is so precise, not random at all, chosen to evoke mood, reveal character, show milieu.

So powerful and evocative has the book been - yet nothing really happens, except to Koi-san. The war approaches, the old Japan changes, Yukiko gets married - unforgettable!

I've seen advertised a TV serialisation of The Makioka Sisters, but can't imagine how it could succeed. So much of the book's effect is through language. Visually, certain scenes stand out, such as the cherry blossom viewing or the flood. The narrative though is largely uneventful, small actions that dramatically and convincingly reveal a character's state of mind, early history or personality.

Written with love, a strong love of people and place, the book creates love in the reader. Because of Tanizaki I have loved Osaka in the late 1930s and have learned to treasure and respect its people. For those hesitating to undertake reading such a 'Japanese' work as The Makioka Sisters there is the perfect bridging novel The Wind-up Bird Chronicle (Nejimaki-dori kuronikuru, 1995) by Haruki Murakami, which does mention the war - and Charlie Parker and 'hard-boiled' detective stories and Jungian archetypes and the surreal: a roller coaster of a novel and one of the best as well.

THE MAKIOKA SISTERS tells the story of the lives and relationships of four sisters in the late 1930's and early 1940's in Osaka, Japan. Tsuruko, the oldest, who is married, acts as the head of the household by nature of her age. Sachiko, the second oldest, also married, is a sensitive and intelligent woman who watches over her younger sisters. Yukiko, unmarried, is extrmeley shy and reserved, and extremely dependent upon Sachiko. The youngest, also unmarried, is Taeko (nicknamed Koi-san), a free spirit who finds that she must break with tradition to be happy. It is the responsibility of Sachiko and her husband Teinosuke to find a suitable husband for Yukiko, who must marry before Taeko as custom dictates.

The book takes us through several years in the lives of the Makioka family (curiously, since there were only daughters and no sons, both sisters' husbands took the name Makioka), as they experience the joys and disillusions of life in an extremely close-knit family. As their wealth and prosperity wane, they realize that you sometimes must make sacrifices.

It was wonderful to read this book knowing that not only was it written by a native Japanese, but that it was also written in that time period, in the early 1940's. Knowing that every description and every conversation was authentic made this an amazing book.

I would highly reccomend this to anyone who has an interest in Japanese customs, society and way of life. It was fascinating.

Tanizaki set out, during the war years, to write a book like The Tale of Genji, in tribute to what was best about the Japanese past. The amazing thing is, that he succeeded. He was able to transfer the spirit of the Japanese masterpiece (which is also a world masterpiece) in modern times and delicately describe a whole civilization which had really been destroyed, even before the war was lost, in the dreadful militarism that caused the war in the first place. This book is beautifully written. As other readers have noted, it does go slowly. So does War and Peace. So do a lot of the other novels that really make you think about life, and love and important issues. The book echoes the leisurely pace of the Makiokas' lives and is very nostalgic--but it is realistic too and does not depict the old society as perfect. Each sister has her own, fascinating character. They do not easily fit into stereotypes. Particularly interesting to me is the character of Taeko, the youngest 'modern' sister who will not (or cannot) behave like her more decorous sister Yukiko, the perfect 'traditional' Japanese woman--who can't get married. Taeko behaves very badly by the standards of her time--and very normally by our standards today. It is interesting to see the tension, and the ways in which her behavior affects everybody around her. Not only are the sisters interesting, but there are many very wonderfully drawn secondary characters, like Saeko's cultured husband, and the foreigners, the Russians, the German family with the two children--
Just as interesting as the people though are the customs and the culture. There's cherry-blossom viewing, and a firefly hunt and descriptions of how to wear kimonos and many very wonderful descriptions of Taeko's traditional dance-- It's all a whole different mindset than the way we live today. Really civilized. And yet, at the same time, the Japanese army is committing the horrific atrocities in Nanking--
I would read this first, and then Genji, if you haven't done that (you'll really go back to another time). Also best, I think, in the Seidensticker translation.
Someone who likes this will probably also really like In the Shade of Spring Leaves, a translation of the stories of Higuchi Ichiyo, along with a biography of a fascinating woman who died way too young.

The first time I read The Makioka Sisters, I called it "fragile and lovely." Recently, I read it again. It's not really fragile and lovely. Actually, it's very matter-of-fact. The narrative mostly recounts events and the characters' reactions to the events. There isn't much description or imagery, like in Kawabata. Even big events like the Osaka flood are recounted straightforwardly, with precision instead of lyricism.

But the book is very perceptive about its characters. Tanizaki knew everything about the social class of the Makioka family. The book is full of countless trivial little details about their daily habits, mannerisms, styles of dress and conversations. For example, during one of the family's attempts to marry off the third sister Yukiko, the prospective husband is concerned that she seems moody, and the whole family tries to dissuade him in writing and on the phone. Tanizaki perfectly captures the frantic, businesslike quality of the negotiations, simply by describing their arguments at length. He is so perfectly attuned to the routine of a family of this class that, just by describing it, he can recreate a whole period of history. And his extensive knowledge of small details also makes the narrative very lively, and often funny. The book moves slowly, but I found it addictively readable, both the first time and now.

The book is much more than a period piece. It captures the superficiality and transience of a sense of closeness between people. The four Makioka sisters are surely very close to one another. They've been together since they were little, and they get along very well. The three younger sisters live under the same roof until they're all well over thirty. Basically they're each other's closest friends. And yet, the second sister Sachiko has no idea whatsoever about what goes on in her youngest sister Taeko's life. She spends much of the book misinterpreting Taeko's motivations. Taeko also remains friendly towards Sachiko throughout the book, which of course does not in any way prevent her from telling Sachiko nothing of her inner thoughts.

Similarly, Sachiko has a very good husband, by any standard. He's very capable, treats his wife well, agrees to support her sisters even though there's really no good reason why he should do so, and engages in self-sacrifice when the situation calls for it. Sachiko should be very close to him, and their marriage is overall harmonious. But their relations are "comfortable" more than they are "close." Sachiko is closer to her younger sisters than to her husband, and we already know the real value of that.

The oldest sister Tsuruko grows particularly estranged from the others, since she lives separately from them and also has the formal duty of managing the family. Possibly the most touching moment in the book is a tiny episode in which Sachiko visits Tokyo and goes to the Kabuki without inviting Tsuruko to come along. And Yukiko is the most "traditional" of the sisters, but she's not particularly fragile. Actually, she's the most physically resilient. And in the ending, she rewards her family's efforts in trying to find a match for her by acting grumpy and aloof toward everyone. Tanizaki subtly points out that she comes to be excited by the prospect of marriage, but what makes this observation so amazingly accurate is that she's excited by the prospect itself, not by any individual man.

All this is perhaps the root of the feeling of "fragility" that I had when I first read the book. It is true that Tanizaki's characters are members of a declining noble family, and that the setting is just before World War II. We know that the Makiokas' comfortable lives will shortly be obliterated, and this is poignant knowledge. But the true "decline" in the book is not so much one of material wealth or social standing, because Sachiko's husband is still very successful, and Yukiko can still find an attractive match, and hey, their chances of surviving the war are as good as anyone's. The true "decline" is in the way the book gradually reveals that its characters are not really all that close to each other. Furthermore, it suggests that this particular decline is not a product of modernity, war, or lack of tradition, but rather that it is simply the natural state of things.

Others have commented that this book is slow-going, which I can understand--there certainly isn't a great deal of what you'd call 'action,' in a Hollywood sense--but on the other hand, I found it an amazingly effortless read; pages would simply melt away at an astonishing rate. It's very much a novel after the manner of the nineteenth-century (though it's probably best to avoid Jane Austen comparisons, which, though superficially appealing, ultimately don't really work very well): no modernist jiggery pokery (not that I have anything against that, necessarily), just a straightforward narrative of things that happen. One sometimes forgets how effective this can be, when done well.

All this notwithstanding, perhaps the most interesting thing about the novel is its ambiguity: out of the three sisters (the fourth, Tsuruko, being a very minor character, although this does also apply to her, to an extent), only one, Sachiko (the novel's de facto protagonist, I suppose), is made entirely psychologically comprehensible by Tanizaki. Taeko and Yukiko remain to a large extent mysterious throughout. I find that the glib characterizations of them and other major characters in the Vintage edition to be very misleading: nobody in the book can be so easily characterized. Even Taeko's old flame Okubata, who the reader is likely to quickly write off as 'total jerk,' is ultimately given the benefit of the doubt.

One thing that may seem strange to some readers is the way that world events of the time are understated. The novel takes place in the years leading up to World War II, concluding at the end of 1940. However, in spite of occasional references to Hitler and "the China Incident," there is little effect on the lives of the Makiokas, and insofar as they are aware of these things, they remain undemonstratively, naturally, loyal to their country and their allies. This, of course, is nothing more than self-evidently realistic, and I certainly hope nobody would be deranged enough to condemn them for it. People have to live their lives; it's not as if the US hasn't been involved in its share of ignoble wars (hmm...can we think of a current example?). Tankizaki may be subtly critiquing this behavior, but it never becomes more than an undercurrent.

At ANY rate! This is nothing like my preconception of what Japanese novels are supposed to be like was, based on reading Mishima and Kawabata. It is, however, excellent in its own right. If you want something a little more circumspect than your average novel (whatever THAT beast would like!), go for it.

Junichiro Tanizaki's "The Makioka Sisters" (MK) has been hailed as a classic of postwar Japanese literature. In style and content, it resembles Naguib Mahfouz's masterpiece of Egyptian life, "Palace Walk". The novel relates how the once grand Makioka family clings desperately to the past as it copes unsuccessfully with its declining fortunes and social status, and the encroaching tide of modernity. The Makioka sisters' growing desperation is evocatively captured in their endless shuttles between their beloved hometown Osaka and the increasingly dominant but alien metropolis Tokyo, and in their many failed attempts to marry off the third sister, Yukiko, which according to Japanese tradition, must precede any marriage proposal for the rebellious youngest sister, Taeko. I lost count of the number of miais the unenthusiastic Yukiko had to attend because they all ended the same way. In rejection and tears. These repetitive events that lead to dead ends give the novel a claustrophobic edge, though this has a tendency to wear the reader down. Written in flowing prose and plain narrative, MK offers a richly textured picture of a crumbling order, a society in transition as it begins to take in foreign influences ranging from western fashion to a working lifestyle for women. It is also a time of war and upheaval around the world. Non-Japanese readers may be amused by the plethora of Japanese rituals (eg, the meddling of matchmakers and the customary investigation into the social background of suitors, etc) and their stylised manner of speech and thought, but that's the way it was and to some extent is today. Osaka and Tokyo are metaphors for the old and the new. The Makiokas reveal their parochialism when they complain endlessly about the inferior lifestyle they have to suffer in Tokyo. As a family epic, MK is strangely less than compelling. The plot is static. It goes nowhere. The novel's lack of momentum may not be incongruous with its own artistic ambitions but is ultimately tedious. Characterisation is on the whole shallow, though Sachiko, the second Makioka sister through whose eyes the story is told, is pretty solid and comes to life. So does the rebellious black sheep sister, Taeko. MK is an important but not always engrossing read.

This has to be considered Tanizaki's masterpiece. It is a beautifully written, deliciously observed tale of the decline of a privileged upper middle class Osaka family, told through the lives of four sisters. I have read this book three times and learn someting new each time. It is a thoroughly modern story with elusive and ghostly antecedents. Although the tale takes place only 60 years ago, on the eve of pre-war Japan, it describes a world now vanished. Tanizaki's writing is fluid and clear. His description of Kyoto during cherry blossom viewing makes me sorry I've never been there at that season. The sublety Tanizaki brings to the emotions and motives of each of the persons attending Yukiko's many miais is amazing. Unfortunately, the film of about a decade or so ago doesn't do the book justice. Thank you, Tanizaki-san, for giving us the Makioka Sisters.

This was the second Tanizaki novel I have read. The first being Naomi, but unlike that thin tome the Makioka Sisters is quite a fat volume, but is worth ever moment that it takes to read it. Who are the Makioka sisters? They are from an old, proud Osaka family that has fallen on hard times. Each individual Makioka sisters has her own charms and blemished. Tsuruko, the eldest, is very gentle, but worries more than the others of the family's past, and how they should project themselves to the rest of the world. Sachiko who is the main character of the story is very kind and gentle and looks after her two younger sisters, but also lacks a backbone when dealing with her sisters. Yukiko the quiet and reserved picture of the perfect Kyoko lady, but who is also very hard to please. Taeko, or Koi-san, the youngest and most worldly of the sisters seems also to cause the most problems. The book through its 530 pages seems to move very slowly as if not much is really happening the reader is treated to miai after miai for Yukiko onlyto have the negotiations for marriage to fall apart. The reader sees Taeko become more more agitated because as long as her older sister remains unmarried she can not be married. The reader is treated to family sickness scorned lovers, russian and german families who befriend the makiokas. A fascinating book that is too hard to write about. Experience it for your self. kono hon yonda hou ga ii desu yo!

As in "Buddenbrooks," we are introduced to a bourgeois family in decline, and through them we enter deeply into their society, so different from our own--and both societies, Germany in the late 19th century and Japan just before World War II, are about to undergo tremendous changes. And as in Jane Austen, the plot is propelled by the search for a husband, in this case for the third Makioka sister. This book is absolutely enthralling. It's long, but the pages fly by.