Although told in a simple style, this book explores the very complex responses to human interaction. The setting of the initial scene is a tea ceremony with the following primary characters: Kikuji, a bachelor whose parents are dead; Chikako, a bitter ex-mistress of his father and the go-between for a proposed marriage; Mrs. Ota another mistress of his father and her daughter.

Kawabata is superb in showing us the complex feelings that Kikuji and Mrs. Ota's daughter have towards his father and the two mistresses. While the responses are primarily shown through the action, the tea ceremony and the utensils surrounding it play a significant symbolic role.

This book is well worth putting on a must read list.

This was the third Yasunari Kawabata book I have read and I have to say that this one is my favorite so far. The story centers around the figure of Kikuji, the son of a man who was fond of the Tea Ceremony. Sometime after his father's death, Kikuji goes to a tea ceremony led by Kurimoto Chikako his father's former mistress. Chikako had been tossed aside by Kikuji's father several years before, but had stuck by the family even becoming friends with Kikuji's mother. Chikako invited Kikuji to the tea ceremony because she wanted him to see a girl named Inamura Yukiko who Chikako hoped he would marry. However, things don't fall into place as easily as Chikako hoped because Mrs. Ota, another one of Kikuji's father's mistresses, brought her daughther to the tea ceremony. Things continue on from there. The characters of the book are under-developed so the reader does not really care for them there really is no attachment to the characters, but Kawabata uses his magnificent writing skills to make a world of beautiful detail, one can almost see and smell the roses in the Shino water jar, and feel the soft coolness of Mrs. Ota's skin. beautiful book. Quick and easy read. I look forward to reading _Sound of the Mountain_ next.

Sex, lies, suicide, and tea. This slim novel by Nobel Prize winner Kawabata Yasuni deals with Kikuji Mitani and his encounters with a wide variety of women: the poisonous Chikako, the haunted Mrs. Ota, and Fumiko, caught between her shame and her desire. The books moves at a leisurely pace, touching upon numerous subject: propriety, shame, and revenge. Kawabata shows his mastery here, crafting each character carefully, with precise nuance. I would recommend this book if only for the character of Chikako: both monstrous and tragic, she is one of the most interesting characters you will encounter in literature. Some Western readers will be off put by it's slow pace and decentralized plot, but the details and characterization will win you over in the end. One word of warning: although extensive knowledge of the tea ceremony is not need, and a brief introduction will fill you in on basically everything you need to know, readers may miss some of Kawabata's lush symbolism when it comes to the tea ceremony and the tea utensils. But even without that layer, it remains a masterpiece.

The plot development in this book is virtually non-existent. To cap it all off, the ending sucks. You are led to believe that the book might get interesting in the end, but NO! I would not recommend this book to anyone because it is awful. A good ending could have saved it, but the ending was terrible.

Tanizaki's powers of description are as potent here as in passages of "Sasame Yuki." As usual he brings time and place to vivid and delicately observed life.

His characters are also convincing - seemingly without effort. The messiness inside them is in no way culturally specific to Japan of a certain era - whether or not it is meant to comment upon the riot of societal changes that usually provide the petri dish in which Tanizaki's protagonists are swimming.

This book is worth reading slowly.

It is also worth someday reading again.

This is one of my all-time favorite novels, and I have read it about once a year for the last ten. It is a beautiful illustration of cultural struggle, as well as the personal frustrations of a marriage falling apart. It ends in classic Japanese style-- uncertainly-- allowing the reader to wonder and imagine what happens next.

In 1938, a go match was played over six months in 14 sessions at several different locations in Japan. The opponents were the grand master, Shusai, and Otake, a younger professional challenger. Kawabata, then 39 years old, was the newspaper reporter who covered the match for Tokyo and Osaka newspapers. After the war, he turned his reportage into a novel which still retains much of the feeling of reports. If you don't know the game of 'go', played with white and black stones on a board, or if you are not at all familiar with Japanese culture, then this book is probably not a good place to begin. However, if that is not the case, then Kawabata's subtle depiction of many themes in Japanese culture and in human life, may give you pleasure. The sick old man versus the young one. Life versus death, even. The author wrote"From the way of Go, the beauty of Japan and the Orient had fled. Everything had become science and regulation." (p.52) Players worried about points, not elegance or dignity. Otake represents the new, the ambitious, the unrefined; the old master all that was vanishing, all that Kawabata mourned. As a novel about an arcane contest which still can bring out all these important, even universal, themes, THE MASTER OF GO is an amazing feat. If this sounds interesting, give it a try. You definitely won't find another novel like it ! Kawabata certainly deserved the Nobel Prize.

In this book, the game between the Master and the challenger symbolizes the real-world friction between the older Japan--rooted in tradition, honor, and culture--and the emerging modern Japan--espousing rationality, the letter rather than the spirit of the law, etc. The personification of these traits, in the somewhat fictionalized players of a real, famous Go match, rivets the reader to the page.

The writer's style--the author won a Nobel Prize for another work--connotes these complex themes with simple prose. Translating this work must have been a challenge. To read it in the original Japanese would be rewarding.

No background in Go is necessary to understand the novel. For those who are curious, however, the version of the Go in the Yahoo! Games section gives a suitable introduction to the game. If you play a few beginner, 9x9, games prior to or during your reading of the book, it will help you visualize the scenes.

The human power of this book stirs the reader; some scenes I shall never forget. For anyone who has strived to master something--even if only themselves--this book will prove a poignant reminder of the tug-of-war between teacher and student, defender and challenger, the retiring and the upcoming generations.

I have read five of Kawabata's books now and I do believe that this on is my favorite which is pretty amazing since this book basically centers around two people playing a game of Go.

Although the back of the book says that it is fiction, that is not altogether true. Yasunari Kawabata actually did write a series of articles for Tokyo and Osaka newspapers about the Master of Go and his last game against a much younger opponent. Although the opponent's real name was Kitani not Otake. Kawabata, however, did add abit of fiction to it. He changed his name and made the Master of Go a much nicer person.

Why is this book a good read? That is hard to say, but the Go match seemed to me to be just as tense as the last game of the world series. It has been pointed out before, but I must say again that the underlying story is actually moe important than the actual story. It is true that the story is about a young man defeating the Invincible master, but it is also a book of change. As the reader reads through the pages he or she sees how Kawabata made this story of a Go match something much more. He shows us how the old Japanese order was slowly fadeing and something new was coming to take its place. Good Book.

THE MAKIOKA SISTERS tells the story of the lives and relationships of four sisters in the late 1930's and early 1940's in Osaka, Japan. Tsuruko, the oldest, who is married, acts as the head of the household by nature of her age. Sachiko, the second oldest, also married, is a sensitive and intelligent woman who watches over her younger sisters. Yukiko, unmarried, is extrmeley shy and reserved, and extremely dependent upon Sachiko. The youngest, also unmarried, is Taeko (nicknamed Koi-san), a free spirit who finds that she must break with tradition to be happy. It is the responsibility of Sachiko and her husband Teinosuke to find a suitable husband for Yukiko, who must marry before Taeko as custom dictates.

The book takes us through several years in the lives of the Makioka family (curiously, since there were only daughters and no sons, both sisters' husbands took the name Makioka), as they experience the joys and disillusions of life in an extremely close-knit family. As their wealth and prosperity wane, they realize that you sometimes must make sacrifices.

It was wonderful to read this book knowing that not only was it written by a native Japanese, but that it was also written in that time period, in the early 1940's. Knowing that every description and every conversation was authentic made this an amazing book.

I would highly reccomend this to anyone who has an interest in Japanese customs, society and way of life. It was fascinating.

This was the second Tanizaki novel I have read. The first being Naomi, but unlike that thin tome the Makioka Sisters is quite a fat volume, but is worth ever moment that it takes to read it. Who are the Makioka sisters? They are from an old, proud Osaka family that has fallen on hard times. Each individual Makioka sisters has her own charms and blemished. Tsuruko, the eldest, is very gentle, but worries more than the others of the family's past, and how they should project themselves to the rest of the world. Sachiko who is the main character of the story is very kind and gentle and looks after her two younger sisters, but also lacks a backbone when dealing with her sisters. Yukiko the quiet and reserved picture of the perfect Kyoko lady, but who is also very hard to please. Taeko, or Koi-san, the youngest and most worldly of the sisters seems also to cause the most problems. The book through its 530 pages seems to move very slowly as if not much is really happening the reader is treated to miai after miai for Yukiko onlyto have the negotiations for marriage to fall apart. The reader sees Taeko become more more agitated because as long as her older sister remains unmarried she can not be married. The reader is treated to family sickness scorned lovers, russian and german families who befriend the makiokas. A fascinating book that is too hard to write about. Experience it for your self. kono hon yonda hou ga ii desu yo!

This has to be considered Tanizaki's masterpiece. It is a beautifully written, deliciously observed tale of the decline of a privileged upper middle class Osaka family, told through the lives of four sisters. I have read this book three times and learn someting new each time. It is a thoroughly modern story with elusive and ghostly antecedents. Although the tale takes place only 60 years ago, on the eve of pre-war Japan, it describes a world now vanished. Tanizaki's writing is fluid and clear. His description of Kyoto during cherry blossom viewing makes me sorry I've never been there at that season. The sublety Tanizaki brings to the emotions and motives of each of the persons attending Yukiko's many miais is amazing. Unfortunately, the film of about a decade or so ago doesn't do the book justice. Thank you, Tanizaki-san, for giving us the Makioka Sisters.

A longtime admirer of Murasaki Shikibu's exceptional work, I fell in love with Genji first through Arthur Waley's translation, which made this admittedly exotic novel accessible to non-Japanese readers. Curious to know more about the Heian period and culture, I acquired Ivan Morris's tremendously helpful and readable "The World of the Shining Prince." Then I discovered Edward Seidensticker's superb rendering of "The Tale of Genji," and have read and re-read that version with deepening understanding and enjoyment. Seidensticker, while presumably adhering closer to the language of the original (which even modern Japanese find difficult to read), gave us a translation which is perfumed by the sensuous beauty of what must have been a truly refined and special time and place (albeit a very limited one).

Now comes Royall Tyler's superb effort, which comes with myriad and very helpful details: each chapter starts with an explanation of the chapter title, how the section relates to previous chapters and the cast of characters. There are also generous appendices including a chronology of events in the novel and a glossary. Line drawings throughout the two volumes (also present in Seidensticker) provide helpful visual clues as to dress and architecture. Tyler's effort seems even closer to the original language, and thereby lies the problem.

This version unnecessarily burdens the reader with ever-changing nomenclature. Since in the original characters are known by their rank-names, and Tyler (mostly) adheres to this usage, the reader is challenged to keep up with the changes. Put the book down for a day or two and you will feel quite lost for several minutes when you restart. As an aide, the translator does provide footnotes to clue you in, but this just makes things more awkward and tedious. For example, at the start of Chapter 43, "Red Plum Blossom" in Tyler's version: "There was in those days a gentleman known as the Inspector Grand Counselor, the late Chancellor's second son, hence the younger brother of the Intendant of the Watch (1)" This same sentence in Seidensticker reads: "Kobai, the oldest surviving son of the late To no Chujo, was now Lord Inspector." How much more to the point!

To conclude, while Tyler's translation is awesome in its scholarship and abundant detail (including sources of the poetry), it is also much less readable. To my mind, the scholarship gets in the way of the story telling. I found myself longing for my Seidensticker at many turns as I went dutifully through the Tyler. Aside from providing a more continuous flow to the story, I also found that Seidensticker's translation of the many poems in the tale more comprehensible and lyrical.

If you are new to this literary masterpiece, you will find the Waley translation the most accessible. If you get hooked on the work, you will probably want the other two. If you must have only one version, however, go with Seidensticker.

If you are reading this it is probably because you have enjoyed Liza Dalby's "Tale of Murasaki" and are wondering if you can handle something of this size. Or perhaps you are already familiar with the scintillating Waley or Seidensticker translations (also worth acquiring and reading) and curious as to why Tyler has even bothered to produce another one. In fact, even in Japan there have been several recent attempts to render the obscure language of the Heian Court into modern Japanese. Junichiro Tanizaki, for example, managed the feat twice. With such a precedent Tyler therefore, perhaps, needs no justification. Anyway, what you need to know is that the new translation surpasses Seidensticker's in being faithful to the poetic economy of Murasaki's prose (though "economy" here still leaves room for some marvellously glutinous, clause-laden sentences) and even succeeds in maintaining the shifting identities of the characters (which change when they receive promotion within the court) without leaving the reader lost. There are also some wonderful and irreverent moments, such as when Tyler has the libidinous Genji complain "I'm not out for hanky panky; all I want to do is sit for a while on her creaky veranda." But the main thing is that this translation is utterly absorbing, wonderfully readable, and as difficult to put down as many a bestselling novel I have come across. It will guarantee around two months of enjoyment to those who like a good psychological story and therefore represents excellent value, even in hardback. For me personally it is simply the best novel I have read and I recommend this translation without any reservations.

So far I much prefer the 1973 (?) translation by Seidenstucker (whatever!). I read the first 7 or so chapters alternately until I decided the aforementioned was easier to read. The new translation might be "truer" to the original and I love the footnotes but it's difficult to figure out who exactly is talking (S. incorporates the information in the footnotes in more recent translation into the body of the text) and S. is a far more graceful writer. If you should be seized by the inclination the read this book, I strongly recommend reading "The World of the Shining Prince" (Morris) first. The genealogical charts alone are invaluable to understanding "Genji".

This was the fourth Kawabata novel I have read, and I found it to be quite thought provoking. The main character's name is Ogata Shingo, and he is a man whose life is slowly falling apart. Ogata's life started off well, graduated from University married to a beautiful woman, but things started to go down hill after that. First his wife died, and he ended up marrying her younger sister whose looks did not compare to his dead wife's. However, the marriage lasted, and the second wife beget Ogata two children. It is these children, now grown, that cause Ogata all of his problems. The daughter leaves her husband and brings her children to live with her parentshe blames Ogata that she turned out the way she did because he did not show her enough affection. The on is the one who really hurts Ogata, because he the son cheats on his lovely young wife who Ogata holds great affecrtion for. Page after page of the book tells of Ogata's affections for his daughter in law, It is really quite touching. Ogata, besides having to deal with his children also is slowly growing senile, it really hurts the reader to see how his mind is decaying through out the pages of the book. Good Book read it please

Written by Nobel-prize winning author Y. Kawabata, "The Sound of the Mountain" is a stunning and complex novel about the family life of Ogata Shingo. Shingo, head of the household, is deeply troubled by the moral decay of his children's families. Shuichi, his son, is married to Kikuko, but carries on an affair for a year, which results in a....... child by his lover and an abortion by his wife. Fusako, Shingo's daughter, separates and later divorces her drug-addicted husband to live with her two young children at her parents' house. Both of Shingo's children disrespect him and think little of him because of his absent-mindedness. These periods of thoughts are filled with beautiful imagery of nature's sounds, smells, and scenes. However, increasingly Shingo's dreams bring him anguish over his moral responsibilty, his hidden love for his daughter-in-law, Kikuko, and his desire for the beauty of his wife's younger sister, his late first wife. In the end, family ties hold this microcosm of Japanese life together--for better or for worse.

I love Japanese literature. Unlike American writers - who overdo both their descriptions and their passions - Japanese writers, especially Kawabata, demonstrate taste. Like the beautiful, small cherry blossom, Kawabata's book is exquisite in its understatement. Only in Japanese literature could you have a father-in-law be completely in love with his daughter-in-law and not have the entire thing reduced to some graphic affair. This story is quietly profound. American readers who are in for action or blatant romance will not enjoy it, but if you are a reader who likes a book that makes you recognize your own silent yearnings - then this is the book for you. But I warn you, you will need to read it at least twice to really get it. Since the underlying theme of this novel is the dwindling of life, I recommend reading this novel in the fall or when you are feeling your own body failing.

I studied Japanese for four years in college and as a senior, more years ago than I care to count, I read this novel in Japanese, one of only two I ever made it through. Recently, having forgotten everything about the novel and because I have forgotten too many characters to read in Japanese anymore, I re-read it in English. SNOW COUNTRY is nothing if not a strange work. At the risk of sounding snobbish or whatever, I have to say that it is stranger in English than in Japanese. Japanese allows for a great deal of vagueness and reading between the lines. English prefers definite words about definite events. So, as I read the novel again, I did wonder why I had found it so enthralling the first time and concluded that language had something to do with it. Nothing is definite. As usual, Kawabata is not strong on plot. An idle playboy-type (we never learn where his money comes from) visits a resort in the mountains of Western Japan, facing the Japan Sea, the snowiest region of the world. He meets an offbeat sort of geisha, Komako. He rather likes her: she likes him, maybe more than that, but the relationship is touchy. Everything is extremely vague, the surroundings are beautiful, and as always, the reader can enjoy the Japanese fascination with the tiniest details of the natural world. Komako, available and prone to drink, is contrasted to the distant Yoko, a pure girl, with a beautiful voice, who shows devotion to one man and to duty. The end perhaps underlines Kawabata's view of postwar society, his disappointment at what Japan had become. If you have read "Memoirs of a Geisha", this might be a satisfactory antidote---not that the former was bad, but it is an American viewpoint. This completely Japanese view of a geisha could be more realistic in terms of what the average geisha's life would have been like in the provinces, far from the splendid inns of Kyoto and Tokyo. If you like haiku, Mondrian, minimalist photography, you would like this novel. If however, your taste is Faulkner, Zola, Balzac, the Russians, then I doubt if you would enjoy SNOW COUNTRY.

Yasunaki Kawabata was the first Japanese novelist to win the Nobel Prize for literature. He is not as good a novelist as his contemporary Juchiro Tanizaki or his predecessor Natsume Soseki (1867-1916). He was a extreme right-winger who committed suicide, not unlike his protege Mishima. His most famous work, the House of Sleeping Beauties, deal with an old impotent man who is introduced to a special sort of brothel filled with beautiful, drugged sleeping women. (Oddly enough, elements of this novel later appeared in a pornographic movie of the early nineties with the same name).

Snow Country is an interesting novel. The protagonist Shimamura is a married man and a dilettante, who has become an expert on the European ballet without actually ever seeing one. On a visit to the Snow Country he meets two beautiful young women; one is Yoko whom he sees on a train, the other is a geisha named Komako. He and Komako start on a relationship which both know will only last a few months. And so they do. Shimamura shows little passion, shows something more but not much more than polite concern, though he obviously sleeps with her. Komako clearly shows something different ("She walked ahead of him [to the bath] with her eyes on the floor, like a criminal being led away. As the bath warmed her, however, she became strangely gay and winsome, and sleep was out of the question.)

It is this deliberately ephemeral relationship which attracts Kawabata's interest, and it attracts ours. It is written in a typically austere and severe style, concentrating on a hypostatized Nature which does not relish in gross physical detail. Consider this description of a teakettle: "skillfully inlaid in silver with flowers and birds, and from it came the sound of wind in the pines. He could make out two pine breezes, as a matter of fact, a near one and a far one. Just beyond the far breeze he heard faintly the tinkling of a bell." This makes those details which do appear particularly striking: "Insects smaller than moths gathered on the thick white powder at her neck. Some of them died there as Shimamura watched." The novel ends with an image of nature. During a climatic fire Shimamura falls and sees the Milky May in the sky above him.

What is interesting in this novel is how Kawabata combines the tropes of classical Japanese literature, such as the aforementioned terseness and emphasis on an abstracted Nature, with a more modern interest in individual character. Obviously there is a gap between the Japanese and European right on the propriety of having mistresses, but in Kawabata there is no clear moral alternative mentioned to Shimamura's ultimately loveless behavior. Although Kawabata mentions the ideals of rural Japan existing the same time with time of modern tourism, this book does not obviously present an organic conservative ideal. The dialogue is terse, often unemotional. Like Jane Austen, it is a romance of pleasure, some desire, but little yearning and limited tenderness. As a portrait of cool if not cold lovelessness it is worthy of our attention.

After completely hating (and saying so in a previous review) Kawabata's Sound of the Mountain, I wanted to find out why he was selected for the Nobel Prize in Literature. I was not disappointed again. Snow Country is a deep, multi-themed, and ultimately satisfying novella.

Kawabata tells the story of Shimamura, a married Tokyo denizen whose passion for the ballet and western dance is so strong that to actually behold a real performance would shatter the pristine dream he has imagined it to be, who travels to Japan's "snow country" and has a relationship with Komako, a young Geisha.

I imagine that I'm stretching the analogy, but the Buddhist teachings of impermanence and suffering are an overarching theme of this story. Everything changes. To resist that change is to bring suffering. Yet, throughout the story, every character seeks some comfort in holding onto the past, the ideal dream. When Komako realizes she is aging and the flower of youth is passing from her, she suffers greatly. When Yoko yearns for a lost love, she goes insane. Only Shimamura, who does not seem to desire the past but is satisfied with the present seems to come through this unscathed.

I'm not doing Snow Country justice by such a shallow interpretation, though.

Even knowing the whole of this story from the outset would not diminish the pleasure of reading this book. 5 stars, without any reservations.

I read a great deal of history and have seldom found a book less coherent. The author doesn't seem able to stay with a consistent theme other than in the most general way. His prose wonders aimlessly through chapters, even losing itself sometimes within a single sentence. His announced intentions for the book are intriguing, but the execution is deflating.

Compared to "High City, Low City", this book is not nearly as enjoyable, only because the post-war history of the city is slightly less enjoyable to read.My only gripe with the book is that Sidensticker has an annoying tendency to translate some place names into English. They would be better left in Japanese romanization.

The book is beginning to show it's age, but it is a tall order to keep up with changes in Tokyo.I would suggest reading Peter Poham's "Tokyo: The City at the End of the World" as a companion volume to what Seidensticker writes of.Both are great books, but Seidensticker concentates on the people and events that shaped the post war history of the city. Popham's strength is in the architecture and town planning of the city.

It's a very enjoyable read, though : think of it as a biography.

"Tokyo Rising" is a must-read for those wishing to understand the historical development of a city which Americans need to know better. The author's affection for and comprehension of Tokyo's qualities, both positive and negative, comes through in this highly readable descriptive analysis of how the city evolved from the time of the 1923 earthquake through the firebombings of World War Two up to the present. What comes through most strikingly is the transitional nature of the city, which has constantly undergone change in its rapid evolution to world-class status, and how these changes have affected the everyday lives of its inhabitants. The inclusion of accounts from the memoirs of Tokyo residents who lived through the period under discussion gives a sense of personal immediacy rare in urban histories. Affectionate and often humorous, this book both describes and humanizes an often bewildering metropolis which challenges the visitor to discover its hidden beauty. "Tokyo Rising" is a great help in finding it.

I'd like to point out before I get into the meat of this review that I am not out to give the writer, sorry "compiler" a damn good ragging, but I am not at all sure this book is as good as you may have been led to believe by the reviewer before me. OK, first, the positive points. There are many well known proverbs in this book that will be useful to anyone who is interested and each proverb is illustrated by a cartoon. So far, so good. However, I have found that a couple of these proverbs are unknown to my Japanese collegues who doubt their authenticity. For example, one of the proverbs that I liked when I first saw it is "Ke bukai mono wa iro bukai". The translation being "A hairy thing is a sexy thing". Well, if you know anything about Japanese culture and attitudes and believe me, I do! I work and live in Japan and I speak Japanese and know a lot of Japanese people, then you will know that body hair is considered to be dirty and repulsive. So how can there be a proverb like that? It stands to reason! Another example of an "unknown" proverb is "He o hitte shiri tsubome" which is supposedly a Japanese version of "It's no use closing the stable doors after the horse has bolted". The Japanese version translates as "It's no use scrunching up you buttocks after you have farted". This is more or less how it is translated in the book. It is an appropriate image, however no one has heard of that either! It is a proverb I like to use from time tio time in English but when I tested out the Japanese equivalent amongst friends, they just thought I was being rude. In fact the word "he" is a coarse word to use in Japanese. "Onara" is more aceptable, well, about as acceptable as talking about farts can be!!! When I have to explain a Japanese proverb to a Japanese person, I can only conclude that the proverb is erroneous to start with. I don't think this is a reliable book. If you get it then check out which proverbs are authentic with a native speaker so you don't end up looking stupid or intentionally rude.

An uncle of mine passed away when I was only about ten. We were very close- even today, my mother and my aunts and uncles tell me how much I remind them of him. Two things immediately pop into mind when I remember my Uncle John- first, he was something of an oddball. And second, he had a passion for languages. Uncle John could speak just about any language you could name. He was particularly fond of Japanese, and I remember him reading to me from "Even Monkeys Fall From Trees." When he passed away, I inherited his copy, and it is to this day my most treasured possession.

What of the book, then? It is really quite simple- it is a collection of 100 Japanese sayings, written both in phonetic Japanese and with an English equivalent (Example- moshi wa moshiya- "for rice cakes, go to the rice cake maker"). Opposite each proverb is a full-page illustration, with the proverb written in Japanese calligraphy. A short preface by the author is included on the significance of the proverbs in Japanese culture, and a short appendix is also included which attempts to find an equivalent adage from our culture for each proverb.

This book is a rich source of inspiration, and I have continually found new meaning in the sayings contained within. The simplicity of its design affords a certain elegance, as it presents the proverbs in a manner which stimulates the reader to find his own wisdom in them. The illustrations are clever and appropriate, and yet do not force a specific interpretation.

This book would make a fine gift for anybody, especially a child, as it is the rare sort of book that one does not merely read, but rather grows with, like a close friend. Whether you're looking for an interesting way to learn some new Japanese, or merely searching for insight, BUY THIS BOOK.

Tanizaki's 1933 essay is an excellent introduction to the Japanese aesthetic. True, it IS the personal reflection on one man who, were he anyone else, would probably be dismissed as a curmudgeonly crackpot. However, 'western bashing' is not the issue here -- a point that he makes repeatedly is that had Japan remained closed to the influences and technology of the west, those things that have developed in Japan (and, arguably, later developed Japan) would have had a very different complexion. Although he does not speak for all Japanese, the points he makes -- tastes in architecture, decoration, etc -- appear over and over in ordinary Japanese people's homes and lives, even today, 70 years later. (I recommend this book to anyone going to visit Japan -- it gives most Westerners an entirely new perspective on how to view Japanese art.)

The ideas in Tanizaki's essay on the Japanese appreciation for shadows and nature-based arts and architecture should come as little surprise for those familiar with the Japanese culture and tradition. Tanizaki's suggestion that these inclinations came from practical origins made sense (a lot better than the still-common theory that the Japanese idea of aesthetics is a result of different, Japanese genes). It also seemed to me that the Japanese were more inclined to resign themselves to fate and find beauty in what was at hand (like the shadows) than to fight nature and create light at the expense of beauty.

What interested me most was the fact that Tanizaki has a "us versus them" mentality, not so much that Japan or the West is better than the other, just different. However, it seems that if a young Japanese person were to read this essay today, it would seem just as "foreign" as it does to an American.

Nevertheless, it was interesting to read Tanizaki's essay, which discusses everything from the theatre to the bathroom, gold and lacquer, women and race. One cannot help but read Tanizaki's essay without feeling his loss at the erosion of traditional society and the innate beauty within it. At the same time, it makes you look around and notice the lack of beauty in our everyday lives (in terms of art and architecture). America, too, was once a land of shadows and a people who we probably able to appreciate their beauty. Tanizaki probably never considered the fact that his culture and ours are really not so fundamentally different.

If you read this essay, don't get caught up in Tanizaki's occasional bad-mouthing of Western culture (remember that he probably would have never dreamed that this short essay would be translated and read in the West!) Instead, treat this as a rare look into a common Japanese mindset and an opportunity to see for yourself whether Tanizaki's praise of shadows is a worthy one or not.

Reviewers are treating Tanizaki's essay as a self-righteous narrative. It is, rather, an exposition of one man's aesthetic, which, perhaps mistakenly, he attributes to a nation. At the same time, he derides this nation, Japan, for relinquishing traditionalism, in favor of utilitarianism. Tanizaki did not use this essay to belittle western civilization- he used it to emphasize how western civilization was not, according to his perspective, complementary to eastern civilization. This essay is a powerful opinion piece, reflecting one man's disdain for, or arguably bewilderment at, the changing times and the dissolving of a time and place he loved. Tanizaki is a brilliant essayist; his work is revealing of passion and insight. To take this essay as an insult, or as "boring" and "whiny," is the crudest possible assessment. At best, demeaning the essay by ridiculing it as foolhardy words written by a grumpy old nationalist does nothing but prove Tanizaki's points about the incompatibility of western and eastern aesthetic. I don't believe all of what Tanizaki said to be true, either of aesthetics or of ethnic predispositions to given aesthetics, but I believe he had a valid case as foundation for his essay, and I strongly recommend reading it.