Simple Complications | Book Shelf

There is something to be said for Japanese literature. The culture with a reputation for its ability to craft finite details with precision in tiny things - everything from sushi to electronics prove its renowned literature is no different. True to Japanese style, at just under 200 pages, The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with The Sea is a small but powerfully beautiful creation. Written by one of the country's most internationally celebrated authors, Yukio Mishima, the carefully-knit story is full of symbolism and deep analyses of the human psyche.

Murakami's predecessor, an author with an almost cult-like following, Yukio Mishima shined in this book. The story is a simple, almost typical tale of love. The book is about Fusako, a successful widow who longs for someone else to be her strength every once in a while and Ryuji, a man who realises that his esoteric life at sea lacks something deeper in the way of human connection.

Norobu, Fusako's 13-year-old son, is a troubled young man. He deals with the death of his father by joining a group of friends who place value in one's ability to maintain indifference in the face of atrocity and joy alike. The group of boys strives to seek out personal 'objectivity' in all matters – including the sexuality of one's own mother.

Norobu takes interest in a very asexual and abstract way, in watching his mother through a peephole. For years, Norobu has watched his widowed mother's only sexual expression come in the form of gazing at her own naked body in the moonlit mirror. Thus, initially when Ryuji the sailor appears into their lives and namely, into his mother's bed, Norobu feels a certain level of satisfaction that his mother was getting a fulfilment she had seemingly been longing to gain. In the beginning, Norobu and his group mates even find Ryuji heroic.

While Fusako is busy trying to achieve her ideals through the creation of her picture-perfect family involving her son and the sailor, Ryuji seems to lose his own. Ryuji's own comfort level with his new land-docked existence causes a certain amount of internal crisis as he struggles to put to rest his old sea-bound ideals of a life untamed amidst lonely waters. Little does Fusako or Ryuji realise, Norobu's reverence for Ryuji is almost exclusively attached to his identity as a strong, manly sailor with real-life tales from the sea. Thus, when Ryuji trades his sailor days to be a family man, Norobu no longer sees him as the valiant man of goodness; rather he sees him as meek and almost spineless.

Originally written in Japanese and then translated by John Nathan, little has been lost in translation. The constant contrast Mishima has tried to project through his characters has been beautifully represented; therefore turning a seemingly predictable tale into a social and psychological analysis often being compared to the likes of Dostoevsky.

The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea is simplistic yet complex, minimal yet profound. It will definitely entice you to sample yet another delicate work of Japanese literature.