Sanshiro (Penguin Classics) [Paperback]

I rate this irony laden story on par with Soseki's most important novel, 'Kokoro.' Joseph Conrad's novels had to travel to Africa and the East Indies to establish the parameters within which the Japanese lived their daily lives as they grappled with the effects of Western Rationalism upon a nonindustrial society. Fortunately for world literature, Soseki Natsume was up to the task of documenting this transitional period with grace, wit, and sensitivity. Soseki's books generally are either serious ('Kokoro') or satiric ('Botchan,' 'I Am A Cat'), 'Sanshiro' is both and it is the better for it.
After graduating from a provincial school Sanshiro enters Japan's greatest university and encounters a number of Tokyo sophisticates, among them westernized girls, famed artists and writers, jaded academicians, dedicated scientists and his best friend Yojiro a lovable, well-meaning scoundrel who constantly throws his shy and self-effacing compatriot into the thick of things. Because there are so many elements that make up this heady mix, the reader has the choice of processing the story on many different levels. At the very simplest level it is about first love and disappointment, but it is also a commentary upon the effects of the new on the old, East meets West, the city vs. the countryside, the traditional and untraditional, youthful idealism and middle-aged disappointment. This probably sounds as though it might be tedious or pedantic, but really Soseki's treatment of the themes is gentle and a delight to read. For instance, when one of Sanshiro's heroes is disgraced by a well-meaning plan that goes awry, Soseki blunts the pain by riffng on the inscrutability of the 'philosophical smoke' streaming through his victim-hero's nostrils as he puffs on his pipe. A stream of smoke by which Sanshiro's roguish friend claims to read emotions. Also, when Soseki lampoons the intellectual conceits of his characters, he does it in a way that the reader must seriously consider each proposition before the joke becomes apparent. As to the pain of disappointment in love, this is always sad and heartfelt yet Soseki is able to ameliorate it by leaving the subject and the object of the heartbreak ambiguous as if either side may have been responsible.
This is imagined, but one begins to suspect that Haruki Murakami was influenced by this novel and even appropriates some of the themes found in it for his own: mysterious and alluring women who flit in and out of the story, odd scientific and philosophical theories as props, central character as passive witness. It is fun to imagine this and one begins to find other coincidences too. Anyway, it is just a thought, perhaps brought on by the coincidence that Jay Rubin, the translator who does an excellent job of bringing this text to life, also translates for Haruki Murakami.
Readers, this is one of the finer Japanese novels that I have encountered. The author often had me smiling, laughing, cringing, sighing and rooting for the various characters in this well told story.

Japanese literature emerged from Soseki, the same way that Russian literature emerged from Pushkin. Soseki's books touch on all the major themes of every major Japanese novelist: Kawabata's aching regret, Mishima's inexplicable drive, Tanizaki's fatal attractions. Even Haruki Murakami's depiction of ennui-laden college life in Norwegian Wood is very heavily influenced by Soseki's Sanshiro. Sure, Soseki doesn't develop any of these themes fully. He's less focused than any of the above authors, he doesn't quite match Kawabata's striking imagery or Mishima's fiery heroics. But everything started with him.

Sanshiro was Soseki's first major work. It is the first installment of his so-called "first trilogy," which also includes And Then and The Gate. The three novels are unrelated, but they seem to fit together because of a neat progression in the age of the protagonists. Sanshiro is about a young man in his twenties. The other two novels are about people in their thirties and forties; they are different people from the titular protagonist of Sanshiro, but they may have been somewhat similar to him when they were young.

So, this is Soseki's "novel about youth." It has a standard coming-of-age plot. A young man from the provinces, unschooled in the ways of the world, goes to college in Tokyo, meets city intellectuals, falls for a mysterious young woman, suffers from unrequited love, encounters situations he wasn't ready for.

But Soseki walks an extremely fine line in depicting Sanshiro. You can really appreciate Soseki's subtlety if you read this book right after Norwegian Wood. The protagonist of Norwegian Wood is also supposed to be "ordinary," with no particular talents, but actually he's immensely charismatic, attracts lots of beautiful women, and never loses his cool, devil-may-care composure while dealing with them, even while he's supposedly suffering. Murakami secretly flatters his audience.

Soseki's Sanshiro is not a ladies' man. He has no idea of how to act with women. When talking to his love interest Mineko, he never understands what she means. He always feels that she's holding back, or that she's laughing at him. He loses face, he feels embarrassed and uncomfortable. It's not that he says the wrong thing, it's that he has no idea what to say at all (although he's just as educated as the next fellow), and is usually reduced to lame one-word answers.

At the same time, Soseki avoids the opposite extreme. If Tanizaki had written this book, he might have been tempted to exaggerate the protagonist's ineptitude, to depict him as maladjusted and neurotic and to suggest that he loves the girl out of masochism. But Soseki insists on Sanshiro's normality. Sanshiro is well-adjusted. People like him. He makes friends easily. He doesn't write moody poetry or dream of decadent eroticism; he doesn't have a tragic past. He just doesn't know about women yet. Soseki shows how Sanshiro is attracted by Mineko's mysterious character, while never actually focusing or dwelling on the content of his thoughts or fantasies. It is a very perceptive move -- in this case, more detail would have completely changed the impression given by the character.

This gives the novel a uniquely fresh and clean feeling. Sanshiro is not only "ordinary," he has an admirably healthy and well-rounded personality. He is susceptible to the influence of others; he's not immune to turbulent emotions and suffering. However, one gets the feeling that he will surely turn out all right in his life.

Not everyone does, however. The novel gives a contrast to Sanshiro in the form of Professor Hirota, an intellectual with a keen sense of irony who often makes philosophical observations or criticisms in casual conversation. Hirota does not benefit from the comparison. It eventually becomes clear that he is basically a gifted dilettante, which is why his low-key, "unrecognized" but hassle-free life is really ideal for him. There is a subplot in the novel where one of Hirota's students tries to get him a better job -- but if Hirota were to get it, he would be inherently incapable of living up to the student's expectations, because it would require him to have a coherent worldview instead of a convenient set of aphorisms.

Mineko is extremely vaguely sketched. Soseki simply doesn't consider it necessary to explain anything about her whatsoever. But then, it truly isn't necessary. It simply does not matter whether or not she loves Sanshiro, or whom she really loves, or what she thinks about, or what she wants. The point is that, whatever it is that she actually wants, Sanshiro would never be able to understand that she wants it, much less give it to her. He is bright, and a good person. But, at this point in his life, he thinks in fundamentally different terms from Mineko. From the start, there was never any way for them to explain themselves to each other, no matter what they might have said.

I should also say that Soseki can be very funny. He never gives more specifics than he has to, so it can be difficult to discern his tone. But his depiction of Sanshiro's first day of classes makes a complete mockery of the curriculum in just three sentences: "First Sanshiro learned that the word 'answer' came from the Anglo-Saxon 'andswaru.' Then he learned the name of the village where Sir Walter Scott had gone to grammar school. He carefully recorded both facts in his notebook." (30) Soseki also gently laughs at his protagonist in his depiction of Sanshiro's fussy, boyish concern over how to conduct himself toward Miwata Omitsu, a girl from his hometown. One suspects that Sanshiro will end up marrying Omitsu in a couple of years, and that he'll probably be very happy with her.

"Sanshiro" is a coming-of-age novel, Meiji Japan style. This is definitely not one of Soseki's better known novels, especially in the United States, but it still has an appeal and sharpness that transcends time and cultural barriers.

"Sanshiro" is in many ways both different and yet similar to Soseki's most famous work, "Kokoro." Both include tales of heartbreak and tragedy, along with social commentary on Japanese society. For whatever reason, Sanshiro struck me as a much more "modern" book than Kokoro. Using the word modern on a book written 100 years ago may seem odd, but reading Soseki's comments on Japanese society at the time (end of the 19th/beginning of 20th century Japan), then considering the ultimate result of the Meiji cultural "revolution" (the emphasis on Western science and Eastern philosophy which led to militaristic ultranationalism), and then again the state of Japan today and it is clear that Soseki's comments are not outdated.

Similarly, Sanshiro's Mineko is a much more modern, "Western" young lady than her counterpart in Kokoro. Unlike Kokoro's Ojosan, who didn't seem to have a thought of her own, Mineko is beautiful, intelligent, slightly haughty, and has a mysterious appeal about her. She is not some trophy to be captured, but a person to be respected in her own right. I found myself verbally assaulting the annoyingly clumsy Sanshiro when he missed opportunity after opportunity to get to know Mineko better. Of course, when he finally develops some guts it's too late. The blame for this unhappy end falls on Mineko as well, as she is one of Sanshiro and Yojiro's generation's "unconscious hypocrites" in the words of Soseki. Mineko knows that she has found a fellow stray sheep in Sanshiro, yet she ultimately abandons him.

Soseki's writing is again a joy to read. Every time you encounter a passage that seems to start getting a little monotonous, he throws in a paragraph that seems absolutely brilliant. The characters are similarly memorable. I liked Kokoro a bit better, but Sanshiro is still an excellent book that has aged well.