Since my last post on Murakami Haruki could potentially be seen as a bit of a downer, I thought I would take some time to make a post on Japanese book recommendations to counteract my critical tone. I get requests for recommendations a lot on Instagram, but never really feel that prepared to answer them, so I think compiling a few recommendations every once in a while on the blog will hopefully be useful to anyone who wants more exposure to Japanese literature. On one hand, there are the obvious answers when it comes to who to recommend: Natsume Sōseki, Tanizaki Jun’ichirō, Mishima Yukio, etc., and even though I do truly believe that these authors, and their ilk, are absolutely worth a read, I want to take some time to compile five books by Japanese authors that I personally think are truly worth reading that maybe wouldn’t be on that type of a list. These are not necessarily books that I think are under appreciated, incredibly unique, or even absolutely ‘crucial’ to read in order to understand Japanese literature. I am not interested in trying to define any more arbitrary boundaries outside of one: these are five books by Japanese authors that I really love and that I want to share with you!
Continue reading “five japanese books to read: vol 1”
When it comes to books I am not a terribly opinionated person – I have read many a good book and I have read many a book that has not resonated with me at all. For instance, I do not like Henry James and I am not terribly interested in most “classic” American fiction, such as William Faulkner or Mark Twain. Rarely have I received any feedback on any of my opinions that I have shared throughout my posts on Instagram. However, I have been surprised by how much commentary I receive in response to my opinions on one particular author: Haruki Murakami. Without fail, whenever I mention my dislike of his work I suddenly get an influx of comments, either from people who would like more information or conversely trying to “sell” his work to me. This response always intrigued me because, like I said, this never happens with any other author that I post about. I can’t help but think that there is something about Murakami and his work that means something significant for people in a way that differs from the other Japanese authors I post about – and leads people to be a little more defensive about criticism about his work.
After putting it off for a while, I think it is about time that I articulate my feelings for those who are curious: why I don’t like Murakami.
Continue reading “why i don’t like haruki murakami (but why it’s okay that you do)”
I am constantly surprised by the fact that anyone reads my posts, particularly because I tend to neglect this space. I started this blog purely as a spot to write about the texts that I read – whether they are fiction or non-fiction – and that I feel deserve some recognition that they maybe don’t get. Initially, a lot of what I focused on was Japanese literature specifically, or at least directly related to Japanese studies in some way. However, through my exposure to more contemporary works through Instagram, I’ve strayed away from my focus as of late. Though I don’t think it is necessarily a bad thing, I decided to return to the literature that I love; partially because I am rereading this specific text again, but also because I know that the readers who tend to end up on here are probably drawn in by my work on Japanese literature. And what could possibly be more ‘Japanese’ than Natsume Sōseki’s* こころ (Kokoro)?
[*NB: Some of you may be wondering why we refer to Sōseki as Sōseki when in the Japanese naming system we always place the family name (Natsume) before the first name (Sōseki). By this logic, we should be referring to Sōseki as Natsume, right? Well Natsume Sōseki is actually his pen name and whenever a Japanese author uses a pen name, we use the name they chose since that was the name that they, the author, chose for themselves. The same thing is true for other authors for example, Mori Ōgai – the family name is Mori, but we refer to him as Ōgai, because that is the name he selected.]
Continue reading “natsume sōseki: reflections on returning to こころ”