Overall comment on ‘Death in Midsummer’ by Yukio Mishima

Pages: 180
Nationality: Japanese
Language: English
Published in: 1966
Yukio Mishima is one Japan’s foremost novelists and playwrights. He was active for apprx 20-25 years, between the 1940’s and 1960′. Already as a young boy, he displayed a prodigious talent for writing, and was first published when he was twenty-three years old. Mishima committed suicide in 1970, by performing a hara-kiri/seppukku on himself (auto-disembowelment with the use of a sword).

‘Death in Midsummer’ is a collection of nine short stories and one play. The back fo the book reads, that these ten short texts “represent Mishima’s extraordinary ability to depict, with deftness and penetration, a variety in human beings in moments of significance’, which in brilliantly sums up the essence of this book, as I have understood it. The text on the back cover picks up however, and adds that “Mishima’s characters are often young, sophisticated Japanese who turn out to be not so liberated from their past as they had thought”.

It is, I assume, primarily my through and through European heritage, and also, my, to some extent, ignorance of Asian history and culture, that I find it difficult to read this book on more than a very shallow level.
It appears to me, that too much of Mishima’s intentions and meaning has been lost in the english translation. Language must necessarily entail culture and ways of being and thinking, and so henceforth, some of the meaning in a literary work is presumably always lost in translation. When a reader is not only not Japanese, but not East-Asian or even Asian, the normal losses in translation appear to be amplified by powers of ten.

Mishima depicts a variety of human beings that are going through, or have gone through, something that in various ways will alter their lives; always, the events told are inherently linked to current societal standings. Mishima is brilliant at describing nuances in the human psyche, and with merely a few strokes of the pen is he able to bring imaginary people to brimming life. In an indescribable way, his stories reach a climax very early on, but contrary to normal conduct, it is reluctant to fade away; every sentence in Mishima’s stories seem a vital point for the entire text, and given that one doesn’t read carefully, it will be even more tricky to decipher the point of it, than it is if one does.

Mishima is in my opionion as much of an aesthete as he is an ingeneer; his style is captivating, beautiful – sometimes enchanting – but he constantly leaves the reader wondering, asking, hesitating. In the story “The Great Priest of Shiga and his Love”, Mishima tells the story of a most accomplished buddhist priest, who at the end of his life is waiting for the eternal rest, entrance to the Pure Land, beyond death. One day, as he sees the Great Imperial Concubine passing by, a woman who’s beauty has no likes in the world, the Great Priest is unable to retain his indifference towards that which is merely physical. However much he concentrates on the rational, the pure, the non-wordly, he cannot forget the face of the Great Imperial Concubine. The Priest perishes, because he now knows that he cannot be allowed entrance to pure land; his sin has been too great already, to not to have rid his mind of his love for the Concubine. The priest goes to visit the Concubine, an evident sign on that he has given up his faith, on that he cannot reconcile with the physical worlds effects on his body, and his will to reach Nirvana. The Concubine lets the Priest touch her hand, which he strokes over his face; he then turns around and leaves, and then dies, in full peace.

Initially, I thought that Mishima had directed a criticism against Buddhism with this text, for being indifferent to all the beauty of which life offers, and that to live life with one’s back turned against it, is foolish and ridiculous. Supplied with the ending however, I was caught surprised, and I don’t know quite what to make out it. Mishima had seemingly argued human forgetfulness, the invevitability of physical attraction, and the meaninglessness in simply awaiting salvation in quietism, when he with the last ten or more sentences turns the dagger around.

Seeing as this book is not quite my forte in literature, I will refrain from commenting much more on it, and so avoiding to make any clumsy misinterpretations of the actual stories in the book. I much enjoyed reading Mishima’s text, but not being very well read up on him and his life, or Japanese culture, I am hesitant to making detailed assertions about his work. What is for sure is that the texts are interesting; they portray the most fundamental of human emotions, but are also full of insightful symbols and, more, cultural references that are beyond my grasp. Reading ‘Death in Midsummer’, one will most surely be moved by the stories: and envious of Mishima’s delicate writing. One will towards the end most surely be thinking of the texts, asking questions about the texts, and be going back to them for re-reads.

the curious incident of the dog in the night-time, Mark Haddon

Pages: 226, including appendix
Language: English
Nationality: English
First published: 2003

“As a young man, Mark Haddon worked with autistic individuals” it says as part of a little author-introduction before the actual text begins. Having read the book, I can’t possibly find myself doubting this statement.

Written from Christopher John Francis Boone’s perspective, in first person, he (Christopher) narrates how he finds his neighbour’s dog dead and wants to find out who did it. He likes animals and relates to their emotions well, whereas he can’t grasp human emotions, which is part of his wish to discover the canine murderer. There are several more things he doesn’t like, and where many people behave “normally” he has a specific preference; one type of food cannot touch another on his plate; yellow food must be coloured red before being consumed, as he detests yellow and so forth. Take all these complications, add a proletarian background and family with respective problems, a pleasant teacher and a lot of Christopher’s perspective on the world, and you have a crude approximation to the actual book.

Christopher is craving to be around. Not only is he portrayed this way in the book, Haddon has very aptly made it craving for the reader too. He hasn’t done this through cryptic language or the like, however, as that clearly would have defied the whole perspective of the book, namely that of Christopher. To exemplify; upon his father finding him in his room just after having discovered that his mum in fact isn’t dead:

“Then he said, “You read the letters.”
Then I could hear that he was crying because his breath sounded all bubbly and wet, like it does when someone has a cold and they have lots of snot in their nose.”

As stated earlier, Christopher has little or no understanding of human emotions, which is evident from this extract. When he sees his father crying, he perhaps knows it’s bad, but doesn’t understand that he is supposed to feel sad too, which all amounts to him being hard to handle for the reader as well, as it is simply quite aggravating to see such a display of complete ignorance.

Without knowing a lot about autism myself, I find this book rather enlightening. It very cleverly portrays the problems entailing an autistic child, and the immense wear raising such a child exerts on the family and people around him. In other words it’s not only Christopher’s story that’s touching, but his parents’ too, how they struggle, and how we would most probably struggle in the same situation. Speaking for myself at least, it is very strong how Christopher doesn’t understand that his parents love him to the same extent that someone else would, and how he renounces his father completely just because his father killed a dog, even after he explains why he did it; an explanation I would easily have been happy with.

The book is not written very complicatedly. It is in fact quite simple, the language plain and the structure uniform. It is a joy to read, and easy, as aforementioned; which is why I read it the same day I bought it. The language being as said contributes to the portrayal of Christopher’s simple but meaningful observations of his surroundings and to provide a feeling for just what happens inside his head. An example of this language would be the immanent usage of “then.” Starting paragraphs with “Then this and this” and also every time someone says something “Then he said:” is very useful in showing how Christopher is dependent on systems and such, and doesn’t really think very differently of the world; rather he categorises the events and list them systematically. This contributes to that same feeling Erlend Loe, my preferred Norwegian author, invokes with the protagonist of Naiv.Super. (Naïve.Super. in English).

I can safely suggest this book as a good book to read; however I would suggest to take it in smaller portions than the whole at once. At least I found this to be a bit tiring, and I found myself getting aggravated by Christopher in the end, because of his different schemes and ways. It is easy reading, very easy indeed, and being captivating as described above, I found it hard to put down. With this said I must also add that I found it simply quite enjoyable to read, and do believe all people with some sort of heart will also be moved by Christopher’s story.

Nietzschean themes in ‘Hemsöborna’ by August Strindberg (Free translation of title, The villagers of Hemsö)

Language and nationality: Swedish

Pages: 140

‘Hemsöborna’ is one of August Strindberg’s most famous works of prose; Strindberg himself being, perhaps, the finest of all Swedish authors.

‘Hemsöborna’ starts out with the story protagonist, Carlsson, arriving to the small archipelago community Hemsö, outside Stockholm. The book sets in what is perceived to be the the end of the 19th century, a time when Sweden is still, largely speaking, a strong monarchy with few signs of a wide spread and prospering parliament; that is to say, that Sweden is ruled by the privileged upper class. (As opposed to from the 1930’s and onwards, from when Swedish democracy has been coloured by a strong Social Democratic tendency.)
Carlsson is to be working as a farmhand on a farm estate; the farm has previously been in the hands of ‘old (Mr.) Floden’, but since his passing away, the state of the farm has been declining steadily, and an outsider leader, experienced with the business, has to be called in to bring the farm back to its previous order.
Head of the farm is, at the time of Carlsson’s arrival, Madam Flod – ‘old Floden’s’ widower – together with her young son, Gusten. Madam Flod immediatly takes a liking to Carlsson, though Gusten, the son, remains suspicious and questioning about the newcomer. He fears that Carlsson, who is of a lower class than Madam Flod and Gusten, will aspire to take over the farm – or rather, steal it away from them. Gusten is quite right in suspecting this, as becomes evident later on in the book.
Carlsson, a skilled handyman, raises the farm from its disorderly state, to becoming a small luxury summer resort for wealthy city-dwellers, to be gaining benefits from trade, and he manages to sustain good harvests throughout the years of his stay.
On an overall, Carlsson becomes an influential figure in the small community, and even gets voted to hold political office as the communal spokesman. In addition, he marries the old widower, Madam Flod, and in effect, tried to lay his hands on the ownership of the farm estate. The book does, however, come to a tragic defilation, when both Madam Flod and Carlsson dies; Madam Flod from symptoms of age, and Carlsson from being swallowed by the lake, after falling through the winter ice.

What takes place in ‘Hemsöborna’ is, essentially, what I would call – with some arrogance, I am willing to admit – a Nietzschean drama. Nietzsche mentiones in one of his minor essays that he has pen correspondants all over Europe; correspondants of genius character; in this context, he mentions Stockholm. I am inclined to believe that this correspondant of Stockholm was Strindberg, seeing as the two were contemporary, and that Strindberg’s many works contains the same ideas that Nietzsche consistently expresses throughout his vast collection of works – this is to be seen, particularly, in Strindberg’s play Miss Julie.
Evident in ‘Hemsoborna’ is a power struggle; here, the subordinate working class, in the form of Carlsson, meet the upper class in the form of Madam Flod and her son, Gusten. Carlsson has learned many skills and knows how to run a farm, this in contrast to the farm’s real owners. Carlsson, almost on his own, makes the farm a good and prosperous one. On the other hand, Madam Flod and Gusten enjoys the privilege of being of a noble, or somewhat noble, trait. The books many smaller intrigues explores precisely this topic; how one who is willing to have power, may achieve it, but who those who truly have power, in the end always will be protecting it. Carlsson, desperatly wanting to achieve something, wanting to be cherished and praised, does his best to attain power and status, whereas Madam Flod and Gusten lazily sits back, and watches him bring money to the farm.
The way the book ends, with Carlsson facing death in the most horrible and painful of ways – by drowning in a frozen winter lake – and Gusten living (it suits to be mentioned here, that Gusten abandons Carlsson on the ice that is about the crack), in order to keep leading the farm as its rightful owner, clearly shows what Strindberg thinks of society’s current standings. In Sweden at the time when Strindberg wrote this work of literature, a good name meant more than personal excellence, ambition and success.

The same conflict, revolving around the power theme, occurs between men and women – this in particular between Carlsson and Madam Flod, but also between Carlsson and one the summer guests, a noble girl called Ida, whom Carlsson falls desperatly in love with. Strinberg does here again explore the same ideas that Nietzsche has been perceived to have done. Nietzsche writes in ‘Thus Spoke Zarathustra’, through the character of an old lady who speaks to Zarathustra, that ‘when you go to women, don’t forget the whip’. However sadomasochistic this may sound, and however much undeserved critique Nietzsche has received as for being misogynistic (as have Strindberg), this applies to something different than merely taking on a violent side when dealing with women. In life, men and women fight on equal terms, and nothing is to be said against that the two genders carry out an eternal fight in between them – for power. “A woman who wants to be equal to men lacks ambition”, someone is known to have said.
Carlsson marries Madam Flod in order to attain a higher level of class, and more status as a true owner of an estate, rather than being a mere farmhand. Madam Flod marries Carlsson for the reason that, as it seems, her flesh is aching for lust; in addition, she marries a strong man, a leader even, that is sure to make her farm prosperous for many years to come.
What seems to be Strindberg’s point in this drama, however, is that the women always appear to have the last word in an intrigue. Before her death, Madam Flod makes sure that her son, Gusten, burns the legal contract that makes Carlsson the rightful owner of the farm after marriage has been ended. Instead, Gusten will inherit the farm estate, and Carlsson will be left with nothing.
The small affair that Carlsson has with the noble Ida, before his marriage with Madam Flod, also ends in a way that is to Carlsson’s dismay. Over the summer, Carlsson and Ida has had an affair, but when Ida goes back to Stockolm over the winter, she scolds Carlsson in front of her friends, makes fun of him and his manners, and calls him a poor peasant. Here it is obvious that both class and gender issues are involved. Carlsson is of course no-one to defend himself – he is merely a farmhand, and more, he is not a man of the city and its ways.

There are numerous intrigues and problems in ‘Hemsoborna’ that is worth discussing, though at the moment, I will satisfy with having elaborated, if only just a bit, on the matters of gender and class in particular. What is most essential to mention is what an astonishingly excellent work of literature ‘Hemsoborna’ is. It is one those books that one can read five or ten times, and for each time find new problems, new intrigues and new ideas to discuss. It is not really one of those books that cathes your attention and makes you want to read and read until the book is finished, no – that would be another bullshit crime/mystery novel a la the Da Vince Code. This is a true masterwork of literature that explores our very central themes in life, and it teaches us of how to look at them, and perhaps, how to deal with them.

One day in the life of Ivan Denisovich, by Alexander Solzhenitsyn

Pages: 158
Language: English
Nationality: Russian
First published in: Novy Mir, Russian News paper, 1962

With the book “One day in the life of Ivan Denisovich”, Alexander Solzhenitsyn for the first time enters the literary stage. The text was first published in the news paper Novy Mir. The weekly issue sold all 90,000 or so copies in one single day.

Solshenitsyn was after the second world war sent to one of the Russian gulags, where he spent eight years of his life. After Stalin’s death in 1953, he was released, though it was only after Nikita Kruschchev’s ’secret speech’ in 1956, in which Stalin’s regime and leadership was officially denounced, that he could return to his home, having been living as an exile up until then.
A day in the life of Ivan Denisovich is a story that portrays one day in the life of a gulag inmate. Readers get to follow Denisovich, who’s consistently referred to as Shukhov throughout the book, from the moment when reveille sounds, until when he in the evening goes to bed, exhausted after yet another day’s work in the camp.
Khruschchev, in 1962 eagerly wanting to dissociate with the hardships and suffering caused by Stalin’s 30 years long rulership, is believed to have given a green light to the book censoring authorities for the reason that Solshenitsyn aims, however indirectly, a scathing criticism against Stalin, with this book.

What I find to be the most striking feature in this book, is how Solzhenitsyn make the book characters seem authentic and alive. A day in the life of Ivan Denisovich is not autobiographical, but strictly a fictional novel. It seems obvious, however, that Solzhenitsyn’s own experiences from the gulags plays a great influence. Shukhov, foremostly, but also all of the other characters in the book, express through their personas distinct and tangible emotions. As a reader, one cannot help but feeling as a very small part of the book itself, the way one is being drawn in to the psyche of the narrator.

“Shukhov went to sleep fully content. He’d had many strokes of luck that day: they hadn’t put him in the cells; they hadn’t sent his squad to the settlements; he’d swiped a bowl of kasha at dinner; the squad leader had fixed the rates well; he’d built a wall and had enjoyed doing it |…| And he hadn’t fallen ill. He had got over it.” These are lines from the very last paragraph of the book, that more or less sum up Shukhov’s day. Shukhov merely lives to get by the day, and he seldom looks forward. The work he does in the gulag controls his every action, and more, almost his every thought.
Shukhov’s character is one that grabs hold of a readers mind for long time; I, having just read the book, have once again been reminded of the most level of human characteristics. Through Shukhov, one feels weakness, despair, fatigue, physical exhaustion, but amidst all his suffering, Shukhov still sees hope. Hope that one day, he will get released; hope that maybe tomorrow, it might not be so cold; hope that maybe, at lunch, he’ll be offered the last drags of a cigarette. Shukhov demonstrates that man need not live for anything else than his own life, that life itself is more important than the meaning of it (ref. Notes from the Underground, F Dostoevsky), this in beautiful contrast to the nihilistic, emotional wasteland we witness on a daily basis in our lives, where our every need is fabricated.

A day in the life of Ivan Denisovich is indirectly sending off a big ‘fuck you’ to the past regime, to the dead Stalin, but is more directly featuring the most fundamental sentiments of a human being, and in a setting where everyone has been depraved of every last chance to freedom.
The book has been called a ‘masterwork of Russian literature’ and Solzhenitsyn himself has oftentimes been compared to the likes of Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Gorkiy and others. However this is a correct judgment or not, I am not up for debating. Essentially, the book is an interesting read, for all that it portrays and depicts – life in a gulag, human relations between humans stripped of freedom; of human emotions and human devotion. As for recommendations, I would give one for this.

Special Topics in Calamity Physics, Marisha Pessl

Pages: 514
Language: English
Nationality: American
First published: 2006

About Blue van Meer and her father, Gareth; they travel around America where Gareth works at numerous institutions, while Blue goes to school at a new place every minute, it seems. Blue is extremely clever, her father the same, he writes and reads, she mostly reads. They settle in Stockton at the end of the book, and Blue gets a teacher that fascinates her more and more, until the teacher commits suicide. Entailing the suicide, Blue aspires to reveal the causes of her death, suicide or not.

I must say, I have never felt as good after finishing a book as I did after Pessl’s first novel. Usually I’d say something to this effect after reading Dante’s Inferno or Shakespeare’s Othello; works that crave something from their reader, and in return give a most rewarding literary adventure, both pleasing and satisfying. With Pessl, however, I just felt happy. Happy it was finally over.

By some dubbed a page-turner, by others named a clever masterpiece, I beg to differ. The 300 first pages could easily have been omitted, they say nothing, except the facts made relevant by the author herself. Upon picking up the novel in the book shop I was told it would be “A page-turning murder mystery … unputdownable” (The Guardian). From this it seems to me that the people at The Guardian only read the last 150 or so pages, as the teacher “She found [...] dead – hanging by a piece of electrical cord.” (off the back cover, Penguin 2007) failed to be found so before page 336 out of 514.

Apart from being astonishingly long without content, it portrays the author’s persona very well. It is clear Pessl feels she has something to show off, not only from the choices of characters, but also from her language, striving to be clever, rich and eloquent, perhaps like Dickens. Instead she stumbles and falls in between all the words and the entire work is out of touch with it’s attempted aptitude.

I would like to make a recommendation concerning this book. You mustn’t read it. Hopefully Pessl will write something far more fetching in the future, which I am sure will make people, until then unfamiliar with Pessl, happy. I, however, won’t ever touch her work again. The reasons are simple: I was told by numerous, multilingual reviews that this was the most fascinating book of the modern world, it’s clever, original and everything else one can wish for in a book. Lies, lies, lies.