Snow Country

Kawabata is one of Japan's most respected authors, and "Snow Country" is his masterpiece. However, that does not mean that this is a book for everyone, or that everyone will necessarily understand or enjoy the novel. In fact, I got my copy as a cast-off from a friend who said it was incredibly boring and he didn't want to keep it.It is a demanding read, one that expects the reader to be able to catch the substance of the unsaid, the implied. Almost nothing is spoon-fed. There is no action, no crisis, nothing that most literary traditions has lead readers to expect from a novel. It demands patience, even though it is a slender volume. Personally, I found it captivating, and intensely deep and moving. Having read other Kawabata, I was prepared for the subtlety of style and the sparseness of language and story that is his trademark. He is the inheritor of the Haiku, which implies with as few words as necessary. The emotional depth of the novel is incredibly deep, much deeper than many novels I have read who express with much more fanciful language. The Geisha and the Dilettante, the one who affects love but cannot know true love, and the one who gives herself to love even though she knows it cannot be. It is a passionless affair, yet intense. Like the snow country itself, the landscape of their hearts is sparse, yet life lies under the surface covering of insulation.I did find the translation annoying and disappointing, and I was surprised to find such a lackluster translation on one of Japan's premier novels. The constant use of quotations for "mountain trousers," for instance, instead of just naming it once and using the Japanese term. I am sure that a better translation could capture the novel even better, and perhaps transport it for a new audience.All in all, one of the best Japanese novels that I have read. Simply incredible, and worth the time. But remember your patience.

SNOW COUNTRY, the masterpiece of 1968 Nobel laureate Yasunari Kawabata, deserves its place among the finest novels of the 20th century. A tale of a heart-wrenching love affair between a wandering playboy and a geisha in a remote hot spring in Japan's northwest, SNOW COUNTRY quickly becomes more than it seems with the addition of a strange other girl, omnipresent even when she is offstage.Kawabata maintains an element of mystery among each character, especially the enigmatic Yoko about whom even the careful reader can find out little until it all clicks in the end. But in spite of the complexity of their personalities, the characters do come alive and in the end their actions make total sense, even if the reader was baffled in the pages before. Make no mistake, SNOW COUNTRY is a difficult work, especially in translation, but its ending, involving a glorious epiphany for its protagonist, is transcendent and mystically beautiful.In spite of the pains of confused love which forever torment Simamura and Komako, SNOW COUNTRY is full everywhere of beauty, especially the pure white landscape which is perpetually in the background. Kawabata presents such powerful images: Yoko reflected in the train window super-imposed on the blur of the countryside, moths dying in droves in the autumn, the fire consuming the theatre, and finally perhaps the most important scene in the novel, the "Heavenly River" descending from the sky straight into Simamura's soul. Kawabata writes with such precision and uses not a single unecessary word that it is as if this slim volume holds an entire world within it.Regrettably this translation, the only one available in English, is incredibly poor. Edward Seidensicker is know for the quantity of his translations from Japanese, he tackled a ton of Japanese classics from authors as diverse as Kawabata and Lady Murasaki. He is not known for the quality of his translations. Case in a point, the ending: Seidensticker translates Komako's wail as "She's crazy", whereas in at least the Russian translation and the Esperanto translation it's rendered as "She'll go crazy" (future tense), which is important because it makes a reference to an earlier part of the novel. As Simamura is jostled in the crowd, slips, and has his rendevous with destiny, Seidensticker translates this section in an almost comical fashion, as if Simamura was a cartoon character slipping on a banana peel. Seidensticker wasn't really capable of translating a novel such as SNOW COUNTRY, which was written in a very austere and frigid style befitting its setting, because he couldn't help trying to add unnecessary warmth and texture to Kawabata's novel. I first read SNOW COUNTRY in the translation into Esperanto by Konisi Gaku, and I would in fact recommend that for Westerners. If English is one's only language, however, Seidensticker's translation, poor as it may be, is unfortunately the only option.Independent of which translation one reads, it does bear saying that, just as

Snow Country, probably the most famous of Yasunari Kawabata's classical Japanese novels, is the story of a love affair doomed from the very start.Set on the snowy, mountainous slopes of Western Japan, Snow Country tells the story of Komako, a hot springs geisha and Shimamura, a wealthy Tokyo dilettante who works as an expert on occidental ballet. The focus of the novel is on three visits to Komako from Shimamura and their changing relationship as well as Yoko, a maid at the inn where Shimamura chooses to stay while in the snow country. Each of these three characters is searching for love, yet finds himself (or herself) incapable of fully experiencing it.Throughout Snow Country, Kawabata utilizes the changing of the seasons as a metaphor for the changing relationship between Komako and Shimamura. Meeting in the spring, Shimamura sees Komako as an "amateur," a mere girl, and feels the need to protect her, much as one would protect a growing seedling. The relationship thus begins in genuine friendship and under the protection of Shimamura, Komako grows and matures.Shimamura's second visit takes place in the fall and Komako, who has matured into a woman, finds that her relationship with Shimamura has changed; she no longer views him as her protector and finds that the friendship the two once shared has now become a struggling romance. Komako, who emotionally, has moved beyond the superficial Shimamura, now views him with a mixture of passion and contempt.Winter brings yet another change to this enigmatic relationship as Komako and Shimamura begin to argue and grow further and further apart. Shimamura finds himself attracted to Yoko, but it is an attraction that can only end in tragedy for all concerned. Although the ending of the novel may be confusing for some, it does effectively sever any ties that Komako and Shimamura may have had.Although lyrically beautiful, the novel is almost painful to read as the characters struggle to keep their dignity intact in the face of their disintegrating relationship. Kawabata's writing is gorgeous and poetic and the book embodies the juxtaposition of his signature themes of beauty and sorrow. The narrative is minimal, as it should be, emphasizing the three characters' inability to love and live life to the fullest. Kawabata uses subtle, yet rich, imagery instead of a dense and complex narrative. "...insects smaller than moths gathered on the thick white powder of her neck. Some of them died there as Shimamura watched." Kawabata wisely gives us only the beautiful essentials, existing largely in the conversations of the characters. The haiku-like images that make up their surroundings also lends insight into their character. This is an novel of nuance and atmosphere, of bare essentials and hidden meaning, of spaces and silences and hanging threads.Delineating the effects of desire on a man and loneliness on a woman, Snow Country is ultimately a book about love a