Scan barcode
arirang's review
4.0
Having read all of the (unfortunately limited) amount of Ōe Kenzaburō's fiction in English translation (see here for a list https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/18103798-kenzabur-e) I have this year got to the non-fiction.
I previously this summer read the, frankly rather disappointing, Hiroshima Notes, in the translation by David L. Swain and Toshi Yonezawa (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/3486524900). That book began in summer 1963 shortly after the birth of Ōe's son Hikari, born with a severe brain lesion and when, while debating whether to consent to an operation that might save Hikari's life but likely leave him mentally handicapped, Ōe accepted a commission to visit Hiroshima to report on a international peace conference to abolish nuclear weapons.
恢復する家族 (1995) was the first book published after Ōe's Nobel Prize win in 1994 and was translated into English in 1996.
Like Hiroshima notes, this is essentially an edited collection of essays, but here personal rather than political, and focused on Ōe's family life, his son Hikari and, in particular, his development as a composer. As Ōe Kenzaburō explains in the sleevenotes that accompanied Hikari's debut CD collection of classic compositions (which can be listened to here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sed73hdy_n4):
I feel quite horrified when I stop to think what might have happened had my son Hikari never listened to music: what has become the most essential part of his daily life would not have taken shape within him. Moreover, it might well have been impossible for us, his family, to surmount the many difficulties which have confronted us. I feel this with compelling immediacy as I look back over our past three decades with Hikari, who has live these years with a mental handicap. Hikari was born with an abnormal growth which was soon removed surgically from his head in a difficult operation. But although Hikari's mental retardation gradually became evident thereafter, he continued to grow physically in his cot just like any other healthy infant. His young mother listened frequently at this time to the music of Mozart and Chopin, mainly to shield herself from anxiety over the child. Looking back from the vantage point of the present, it seems that the baby must have listened intently to this music.
Hikari eventually had the good fortune to encounter a piano teacher who gave him the chance to discover the joy to be had from the creation of harmony and melody. One day he showed us his first composition, written in long-tailed notes resembling bean sprouts, and we could but marvel at this astonishing development.
It was after several performances of his music by gifted friends that we began to understand exactly what musical composition meant to Hikari. Had he not composed, he would surely never have been able at any time in his life to convey the rich, profound, crystalline and radiant message contained in this music. For our part, had Hikari not composed, we would have never realized, nor would we have been able even to imagine, that he possessed this sensibility. The scope of what we might have gained from this world and understood of it would have been significantly narrowed. I feel we would have missed gaining an insight into some of the most important and humble aspects of the meaning of human life.
Hikari continues to travel every day to the welfare institute and spend most of his remaining time listening to music. I used sometimes to think that there was no accumulation of historical time within his life, for never have I heard him express in words his memories of the past. But it is quite clear from Hikari's compositions that history lives within him: one piece expresses his feelings to the doctor whom he most loved and respected, another piece alludes to parting from a handicapped friend. Yet other pieces allude to the sunlight which bathed him and his brother and sister in a mountain cottage in the summer and to the falling snow.
Hikari's range of expression is now extending beyond our home. It is moving towards unexpected and distinctive quarters, and is finding its resonance over an ever wider area. We are once again experiencing the joy of a profound mystery.
The translation by Stephen Snyder - long-term translator of Yuko Okawa, amomgst others, and shortlisted for the 2020 International Booker Prize - is as exemplary as his track-record would suggest, and distinguishes the book from the rather meaning-focused translation of Hiroshima notes.
And the essays are accompanied with some beautiful drawings from the author's wife Ōe Yukari (sister of Juzo Itami, the director of the wonderful movie Tampopo, who is the subject of one of the essays.)
I'm a little surprised by the relatively high number of negative reviews on this site, although I can see that the story of Ōe's family does present a side of living with a mentally handicapped child that isn't, unfortunately, everyone's experience. But it is his story and one still told candidly (e.g. he opens with a story of being sent the notes taken by the doctor who performed the live-saving operation, who notes at the time that Ōe gave permission "only after some hesitation"). And he admits that "there have been (and in fact still are) occassions when we as a family (and I in particular) have been unable to control our anger with Hikari", starting with an incident when Hiraki was 5 or 6 and misbehaving in a shopping centre, and the author walked away from him - it later took 2 hours for the boy to be found again.
And as a fan of Ōe's novels, it was instructive to read the real-life stories behind the inspiration for so much of his fiction.
I previously this summer read the, frankly rather disappointing, Hiroshima Notes, in the translation by David L. Swain and Toshi Yonezawa (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show/3486524900). That book began in summer 1963 shortly after the birth of Ōe's son Hikari, born with a severe brain lesion and when, while debating whether to consent to an operation that might save Hikari's life but likely leave him mentally handicapped, Ōe accepted a commission to visit Hiroshima to report on a international peace conference to abolish nuclear weapons.
恢復する家族 (1995) was the first book published after Ōe's Nobel Prize win in 1994 and was translated into English in 1996.
Like Hiroshima notes, this is essentially an edited collection of essays, but here personal rather than political, and focused on Ōe's family life, his son Hikari and, in particular, his development as a composer. As Ōe Kenzaburō explains in the sleevenotes that accompanied Hikari's debut CD collection of classic compositions (which can be listened to here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sed73hdy_n4):
I feel quite horrified when I stop to think what might have happened had my son Hikari never listened to music: what has become the most essential part of his daily life would not have taken shape within him. Moreover, it might well have been impossible for us, his family, to surmount the many difficulties which have confronted us. I feel this with compelling immediacy as I look back over our past three decades with Hikari, who has live these years with a mental handicap. Hikari was born with an abnormal growth which was soon removed surgically from his head in a difficult operation. But although Hikari's mental retardation gradually became evident thereafter, he continued to grow physically in his cot just like any other healthy infant. His young mother listened frequently at this time to the music of Mozart and Chopin, mainly to shield herself from anxiety over the child. Looking back from the vantage point of the present, it seems that the baby must have listened intently to this music.
Hikari eventually had the good fortune to encounter a piano teacher who gave him the chance to discover the joy to be had from the creation of harmony and melody. One day he showed us his first composition, written in long-tailed notes resembling bean sprouts, and we could but marvel at this astonishing development.
It was after several performances of his music by gifted friends that we began to understand exactly what musical composition meant to Hikari. Had he not composed, he would surely never have been able at any time in his life to convey the rich, profound, crystalline and radiant message contained in this music. For our part, had Hikari not composed, we would have never realized, nor would we have been able even to imagine, that he possessed this sensibility. The scope of what we might have gained from this world and understood of it would have been significantly narrowed. I feel we would have missed gaining an insight into some of the most important and humble aspects of the meaning of human life.
Hikari continues to travel every day to the welfare institute and spend most of his remaining time listening to music. I used sometimes to think that there was no accumulation of historical time within his life, for never have I heard him express in words his memories of the past. But it is quite clear from Hikari's compositions that history lives within him: one piece expresses his feelings to the doctor whom he most loved and respected, another piece alludes to parting from a handicapped friend. Yet other pieces allude to the sunlight which bathed him and his brother and sister in a mountain cottage in the summer and to the falling snow.
Hikari's range of expression is now extending beyond our home. It is moving towards unexpected and distinctive quarters, and is finding its resonance over an ever wider area. We are once again experiencing the joy of a profound mystery.
The translation by Stephen Snyder - long-term translator of Yuko Okawa, amomgst others, and shortlisted for the 2020 International Booker Prize - is as exemplary as his track-record would suggest, and distinguishes the book from the rather meaning-focused translation of Hiroshima notes.
And the essays are accompanied with some beautiful drawings from the author's wife Ōe Yukari (sister of Juzo Itami, the director of the wonderful movie Tampopo, who is the subject of one of the essays.)
I'm a little surprised by the relatively high number of negative reviews on this site, although I can see that the story of Ōe's family does present a side of living with a mentally handicapped child that isn't, unfortunately, everyone's experience. But it is his story and one still told candidly (e.g. he opens with a story of being sent the notes taken by the doctor who performed the live-saving operation, who notes at the time that Ōe gave permission "only after some hesitation"). And he admits that "there have been (and in fact still are) occassions when we as a family (and I in particular) have been unable to control our anger with Hikari", starting with an incident when Hiraki was 5 or 6 and misbehaving in a shopping centre, and the author walked away from him - it later took 2 hours for the boy to be found again.
And as a fan of Ōe's novels, it was instructive to read the real-life stories behind the inspiration for so much of his fiction.
More...