Ivan Morris’s anthology of Japanese short fiction

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Ivan Morris’s (1962) collection of modern (up to Mishima) Japanese stories includes one (“The moon on the water”) by Kawabata that I can appreciate, and a very funny one by Dazai about an unwelcome visitor drinking all his whiskey (“The Courtesy Call”), a Wildean early Tanizaki story (“Tattooer” who is erotically enslaved by a beautiful woman whose foot [quel surprise!] first drew his attention), a Buddhist tale of lust and detachment by Mishima (“The priest and his love”) and, my favorite, Akutagawa Ryunosuke’s (also Wildean) tale of a quest to see a painting, “Autumn mountain,” which may have been imagined rather than seen. (I had not realized that Tanizaki was born before Akutagawa.) Also a satire of uniformed Japanese authoritarians (the driver of the passive passengers in “The charcoal bus”) by Dazai’s master, Ibuse Masuji (though the story dates from 1952, four years after Dazai killed himself).

Morris (1925-76) was Donald Keene’s colleague at Columbia, the other scholar who brought Japanese literature (Tales of Genij, The Pillow Book of Sei Shônagon and modern work), including Mishima’s Temple of the Golden Pavilion and Ōka Shōhe’s Fires on the Plain, to English-reading audiences in general and me in particular. Morris (1925-1976) seems to me more sociological (not least in the analysis of Heian society, The World of the Shining Prince), Keene (born in 1922 and still going strong) more of an aesthete, and/or Morris valued comedy more than Keene.

I wonder about Morris’s statement “The confessional, diary type of writing, in which everything is seen through the eyes of one lone sensitive individual, continues to be far more popular in Japan than in the West (23), however. I thought “confession” was a genre pioneered in the west (Augustine, Cellini, Casanova, Rousseau…) Perhaps the Japanese were ahead of the development of American fiction (and now, even when writing about Others). The themes and, certainly, the preferred metaphors and images in these stories seems very Japanese to me. Ibusé’s is the only story I can imagine being written about some place other than Japan (or, in a few cases, China).

©1996, 2017, Stephen O. Murray

 

 

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