The image of a man, a thought that I, the other, cannot imagine from its trivial aspect，I think of words that I record time and thought. If I could understand every casual look, the light that comes through the window, the changing emotions, I would feel happy. So I realize what I think is beautiful and what it means to be born. I love everything I love. I hate it, but I love it.
Rilke’s “My darling”, Das ist mein Fenster, “This is my window”, starts with the inevitable awakening of her inner self and a look at the unconscious exterior. This is Eben bin ich so sanft erwacht… “I just woke up”, a gentle, relaxing moment, like a sprinkling of white powder.
“In the day-to-day life of a person like the window, “Bis wohin reicht mein Leben” (Where will my life reach?), and the eternity of the night and the universe, and the dream.
Ich könnte meinen, alleswäre noch Ich ringsum; (I feel that everything around me is still me), and thus loses the frontier between the interior and the exterior. Is both a bond and an obstacle to the outer world in this poem? She’s falling for him. and across the side world whereas his feelings and awareness of him as “objectivity from outside the window” But this is her reflection. Her existence is “inside” the window. Whether expectant or anxious, the waking ‘now’ is simply her being inside the open window.
I don’t know the details of the “I” relationship with that other person, but the fact that the other person is in my heart means that my beloved is not a quiet presence standing in the depths of my consciousness. My analysis of the poem is that it is a window on the outside world, without any intervention or controller (e.g. God) between ‘me’ and the ‘loved one’.
The original reality is the margin in which the poem ends. The world of empty margins, where nothing is written, exists for the poet independent of his own spirit, and when the poet enters into the spirit of a person, It means it changes the reader’s vison. If the window becomes special as of this day, it is a success.
It is beautiful to see the interior growth and the interior finesse.
I believe that a beautiful poem is beautiful, even in its borders.
That is my window. A moment ago
I woke up so softly.
I thought I would float.
To where does my life extend,
and where does the night begin?
I could think that everything
were still me all around;
translucent as a crystal’s
depths, darkened, dumb.
I could also contain the stars
inside me still; so large
does my heart appear to me; so gladly
it released him away again
whom I began perhaps to love,
perhaps began to hold.
Strange, as something never-described
my fate looks at me.
For what am I laid under this
fragrant as a meadow,
moved here and there,
calling out at the same time and afraid
that someone will hear the call,
and determined to find my downfall
R. M. Rilke
Die Liebende （ Rainer Maria Rilke ) 訳・Chris
Das ist mein Fenster. Ebenbin ich so sanft erwacht.
Ich dachte, ich würde schweben.
Bis wohin reicht mein Leben,und wo beginnt die Nacht?
Ich könnte meinen, alleswäre noch Ich ringsum;
durchsichtig wie eines Kristalles Tiefe, verdunkelt, stumm.
Ich könnte auch noch die Sterne fassen in mir, so groß
scheint mir mein Herz; so gerne ließ es ihn wieder los
den ich vielleicht zu lieben,vielleicht zu halten begann.
Fremd, wie niebeschrieben sieht mich mein Schicksal an.
Was bin ich unter diese Unendlichkeit gelegt,
duftend wie eine Wiese, hin und her bewegt,
rufend zugleich und bange, daß einer den Ruf vernimmt,
Welcher Lebendige, Sinnbegabte, liebt nicht vor allen Wundererscheinungen des verbreiteten Raums um ihn, das allerfreuliche Licht – mit seinen Farben, seinen Stralen und Wogen; seiner milden Allgegenwart, als weckender Tag.
Wie des Lebens innerste Seele athmet es der rastlosen Gestirne Riesenwelt, und schwimmt tanzend in seiner blauen Flut – athmet es der funkelnde, ewigruhende Stein, die sinnige, saugende Pflanze, und das wilde, brennende, vielgestaltete Thier – vor allen aber der herrliche Fremdling mit den sinnvollen Augen, dem schwebenden Gange, und den zartgeschlossenen, tonreichen Lippen.
Should be a reflection of something purer.
André Paul Guillaume Gide
On 12 October 1654 an explosion in an explosive’s depot caused a large extent of casualties.
Many Dutch paintings were destroyed in the explosion, and this also damaged the workshop. One of the victims was Rembrandt’s pupil, Carel Fabritius, who was also killed in the accident. This captive bird is still alive today, even though it has lost its owner.
No doubt many people will agree that the “fate” of this painting is the reason for much of its re-evaluation.
Carel Fabritius was an Rembrandt student. His paintings have been influenced by Rembrandt. We can find Rembrandt’s influence in the way he painted light. Rembrandt’s early works show a wide range of colors, but he gradually developed a basis of brown and grey tones, with brighter colors used for the most illuminated objects. He also uses chiaroscuro, a compositional technique that clearly defines light and darkness.
Its influence is also felt by his pupil Fabritius. Overall, the work is completed in opacity, but the color contrast gives the wall a strong light. The walls are darkly shaded by the feeder and the birds as chiaroscuro, Tarnished natural yellows create a psychological effect of light and shade. What distinguishes this painting from that of Rembrandt, in addition to choosing the bird as a motif, This is using hard paint..Like Van Gogh and the impressionists.
The bird’s background is a flat wall, but we can imagine that what the bird is watching is daylight.
By avoiding all human symbols and imagery, the bird sees the purest things. The light is reflected in her eyes and the imagination is always there. This painting, dressed in “Amor Fati” is a bird who never knew the escape.
This bird lives for a long time and is not capable of flying high.
It was the movie “The goldfinch”(2019) that made this painting instantly famous of our time.
In order to explain the film, a boy and his mother visit a museum and find themselves caught in an explosion. While they escape, the boy steals the goldfinch which has survived. Inspired by the destiny of the original painting of real life, I watched this movie in 2021 with no previous information. The film was inspired by the destiny of the original painting of actual life，and I got a sense of déjà vu from the paintings used in the film.
Had a life of his own for a film accessory. Nothing symbolic at the time, but the color palette was classic. The bird understands the light and is free from superfluous insights. It’s too far from being allowed to exist as a painting, and I’ve seen it before. During the movie, I thought so much about this painting that I didn’t remember exactly what it was about. I didn’t remember exactly what they were talking about, However, the characters began to say that it was a Dutch painting. I looked through the catalogue on the shelf in the other room, thinking maybe I saw this painting once.
In 2012, I was still watching the painting.
I placed a sticky note in the catalogue of Mauritshuis’s exhibition.
The page was “The Goldfinch”. Many Dutch paintings were produced during the boom in microscopic observation, So these are essentially specific tables. Rembrandt’s “Canticum Simeonis” was extremely bright. And Vermeer’s “Het meisje met de parel” tour. I passed by smiling faces art, smiling faces art, and found ‘Goldfinch’ in still life.
It seemed like an incomplete picture. After the human smile, the innocence of the animal, the feathers reflecting the pure light, looked even brighter. In the midst of all these still life’s, observed as the curious mind desires, there is a single and foreign imperfection.
This bird looked at the sky, far beyond the scope of the microscope. This picture was not intended to be framed. Whether it was a piece of trompe l’oeil or a case cover, the purpose of this painting is unknown. In my opinion, the exhibition was not very good, except for the “The Gold finch” and the “Canticum Simeonis” by Rembrandt.
The sound of the birds’ footsteps and the sound of its chain appear to come from a silent painting. Never has this bird been overshadowed by the trials and temptations of fate.
Imperfection, captivity and flight – these three points can strike an agreement with the infirm.
First of all, the downside of not knowing somebody didn’t make it easy for me to talk about that bird. I didn’t have the background or the information to keep it to myself.
The bird hides in the blind spot of memory, but fate so loves him that he comes back alive.
The moment I opened the catalogue, the map of the museum and the advertisements of the museum at that time fell out of the book…Kind of reminded me of a bird wing flapping.
The way missing memories can be brought back to life is a reminder of the movement of time. Especially when it’s a sign of hope, That’s like a revelation of God.
Loved by fate, this trompe l’oeil, what is it that deceives? Even in the museum, this bird saw the light. A number of times, and through space, this bird sees the light,
I was ready to be deceived again, which made me feel like receiving the light.
And lastly, there's still a way to seek God in you. That is, there are ways of doing away with things that are limited. For if artists look for the face of the King in the soul of a tree, they will leave everything behind for the love of that face.
Nicolaus Cusanus－De quaerendo Deum 49
It would be easy to be misunderstood as an infantile mind when talking about Dazai Osamu’s ‘No longer human’, but as of 2021 Dazai Osamu is famous, but whether he ranks high or low alongside the great masters of the Showa period, （1926～1989）he is not even sure. What was his essence, after all, is still not settled. Seventy-six years after the war, here we are. I realized again that this is the allure of Dazai for me.
I hear Dazai’s collection sells well in the summer and it looks like it’s selling well now. There are those who say that his colloquial style lacks the intellectuality of the great writers. The fact that he wrote with such sensitivity about something so trivial may raise both religious and philosophical questions. His sensitivity is also characterized by the fact that his works are not full of metaphors and technical details, Instead, a series of words are used in everyday life.
I’ve grown up, the reason I mention Osamu Dazai again is that, as a Christian, I know and admire other authors whose ideals of love and life and death are quoted in Catholic newspapers, but even after two years of convalescence,I was unable to find a source of language as deep-rooted as theirs. I saw a lot of light and love, I decided that time was of the essence, considering my age and my illness.
When I said, “If I translate in English, I’ll address it to somebody who understands Dazai.” it was a declaration of my defeat and a sign of my resumption. However, I cannot write about Dazai Osamu in one article, So I will be writing about it in a number of articles.
“No longer human” and “Osamu Dazai”
The protagonist, Yozo, from childhood was a beautiful boy,It could not, however, be attributed to the contemplation of happiness and had doubts about it. Beyond its interior life, society considers it “fortunate”. The words are somewhat superficial and do not resonate with the protagonist. And as if the world around him were a Japanese honors student, he can’t find anyone who has the same problem as him. The protagonist wonders to the world if they “sleep well at night and are refreshed in the morning？”
Today, there are more and more jobs, and it is fashionable to do whatever we want, But at this time, working to eat was the norm.
Among them, the job of a writer may have been a divine revelation for a writer, even for a writer, but it was in the category of a hobby, an intellectual’s other love, a job he liked.
Yozo is not able to understand his neighbors, and his last seduction of human beings is the one of a clown. Even his parents don’t get itAs he grew, the smell of solitude attracted women.
Dazai Osamu was not baptized, but he was passionate about the Reading Bible. This is recorded in the diary of Tomie Yamazaki, with whom he committed suicide, and he also carried a Bible in his bag when he went to see his other mistress, Shizuko Ota, the source of “Shayō” , Dazai once asked Tomie what Bible quotations had made the greatest impression on her.
“No longer Human” is the posthumously written work of Osamu Dazai and is said to be a semi-autobiography written by Tomie while she was nursing Dazai.If you read Tomie’s journal, you will understand why women are attracted by the hero and why they follow Dazai.
Dazai said to Tomie, “Why not risk your life in Love?” She learns that Dazai is grieved by the Japanese who change after World War II, Tomie got married during the war because her family feared she was late, and her husband never went back to Manila in the Philippines. She ended up a widow. Back in the day, no one could comfort his loneliness.
In “Phosphorescence”, written on June 3rd, 1947, Dazai describes her love for Tomie and her invocation of her husband around a fictional flower, phosphorescence. The audience didn’t know where to go with her love of her husband who died in the war.
The Society has not forgiven Tomie, only Dazai, and he has accepted his love for her husband.
If he was a ” good husband” as they called him in those days, and protected the family,There wasn’t any help for Tomie,As far as she was concerned, only Dazai, a married man, understood.
Society won’t stand for it?
It’s not society. you’re the one who won’t stand for it-right?
No longer human
Japanese people are asked what their favorite part of this work is, the majority of them might quote this. Dazai’s words, “the society will not forgive you”, and the commonplace phrase,
“You’re the one that doesn’t forgive me.” he said, Focus on the personality.
The weakening of the ego through society resembles the ego of the woman of the time. The focus is on marriage rather than on love as a first step. Even when husbands are Killed in action, there is language for mistreating women.
Yasunari Kawabata and many other experts criticized him. As a result, Dazai’s life is a life of affirmation. Dazai lives by the women who affirm him. For example, he lives in his stories.
Yozo in “No longer human” is one of them.
The image of the woman in Japanese literature is less of a Christian woman. Even if unintentionally, a man’s monologue touching a woman is both a Bataillean “invasion of beauty” of women and, on the contrary, something like caging a small bird and loving it. Sensuality and feminine females live together in a familiar colloquial text. His image of women has neither the mature sexiness of the wife in Junichiro Tanizaki’s “The Key”, nor the refined elegance of Satoko in Yukio Mishima’s “Sea of Fertility”.
Dazai’s work is the most sober of all the Japanese writers’ portraits of women. In contrast to the reality of their emotional deaths, they are sober. Just the fact that their cheeks are stained with tender emotions, that they speak openly of death in the midst of a subject in which life and love are weighed in the balance, is another charm of the literature of Dazai’s later years.
It is impossible to express diversity in words. There is always a question of ethics when there is so much to interpret. Yet there is always no solution. Dazai is a clown of the society, he avoids to be confronted with the truth, but he writes with words that do not bind people. In him there is no doctrine of ” Love is what it should be “. They seem to have no core, “No longer human”.
God, I ask you, is non-resistance a sin?
Disqualified as a human being.
Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.
Jesus would be saddened by this decision, which could be called pruning. There is a story that God is the farmer and Jesus is the vine. (John 15) Pruning does not mean cutting down the unwanted, but it means that Jesus, the trunk, is also grieved, representing the ” support oneself “. After pruning the tree, it produces sap. It is compared to the weeping of Jesus.
“Now I have neither happiness nor unhappiness.
One pruned branch thought this way. Maybe it’s the voice of the protagonist and the literary artist.
It is not clear whether Osamu Dazai and Tomie Yamazaki were simply drowning in the Bible and extending it to romance.
It is not clear whether Osamu Dazai and Tomie Yamazaki were simply drowning in the Bible and extending it to romance. But as we get older, we realize that somewhere along the line, we reach a point where we can’t make it. Some people never notice the end of their life, whilst others feel it sooner.
Most people seem to be aware of it when they get cancer or when they are told that they have only a few days to live, but the awareness of death is particularly prevalent in Buddhism. If you were in a Buddhist school, the first message was that the “possibility of death begins already when you are born”
The lesson was not new discovery. because I had noticed it myself.
Most of us are vaguely aware of death, but most of us relegate it to the corner of our minds because we are afraid of it. If I were to read Osamu Dazai to a child, “Run, Meros” is well known, and we learn about his feelings in the author’s biography. At the time, a friend of mine once read Dazai’s biography and asked me “why he committed suicide?”.
What I answered in my childhood mind was: ” He simply accepted death”.
Naturally, it is scary to disappear from this world without notice on my own. There are some deaths that we accept, like the rest of our lives. So what about suicide, we rarely get to know the true feelings of the dead person. No matter how much is written down, we are always looking for facts that are not written in words. Even if it is written down, we cannot read it as it was written. I have always suspected that there is a dying spirit as well as a dying body. It doesn’t matter how much you write about your spiritual death, other people can’t see it. What happens when the mind becomes so tired that it forgets to seek help?
In fact, even now, 73 years after his death, no one knows what Dazai Osamu Real intention. No one can understand the feelings of a pruned branch. “No longer human” does not lie about “the society” He is without hypocrisy.
Some perhaps will deride me.
What do you mean by not having faith in human beings?
When did you come a Christian anyway?
For the writer, doesn’t loving ultimately to mean remaining a writer? If that is what the women he loved wanted, so be it. Moreover, their deaths would be anathema to Christianity in this work. Nevertheless, without the ability to look at the imperfections of people, neither religion nor literature would be possible. The man of the piece ends up in hospital, while the author dies with his mistress. Without the ability to look at the imperfections of human beings, neither religion nor literature would be possible. The reality that created their “acceptance of death” and the fact that they had to make such a choice in the life they were given.
We must not forget that Jesus wept over such a decision.
We must not forget. If God (love) does not weep
Who will weep?
Pruning should not be considered solely for the proper growth of the vine.
When I was a child, I made no mistake in accepting that ” He simply accepted death”. In fact, the ” acceptance of a painful fate ” comes to all of us at some time. Many times the mind gets tired and the heart feels dead. Yet, the mind may come back to life. The mind will accept death. Over and over again
Feeling for love or death rises and falls repeatedly. Behind the simple expression, I hope that the sound and the thought will reach somewhere with a deeper sound than at that time.
I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful.You are already clean because of the word I have spoken to you.Remain in me, and I will remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.”I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing.If anyone does not remain in me, he is like a branch that is thrown away and withers; such branches are picked up, thrown into the fire and burned.If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be given you.This is to my Father’s glory, that you bear much fruit, showing yourselves to be my disciples.”As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you. Now remain in my love.If you obey my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have obeyed my Father’s commands and remain in his love.I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete.
My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you.
je suis la préférée de sa vie
I am his favourite part of life
L'histoire de ma vie n'existe pas. Ça n'existe pas. IL n'y a jamais de centre.
My life story doesn't exist, there is no such thing. There is no core to create a story.
Once the storm has passed, the last tense becomes beautiful. Love history is purified and unpleasant things disappear. Even the cruel and sorrowful parts vanish. Among them, the first love of a woman is most likely to fade away. Probably it is not even “forgotten”, as one would expect a form to be lying on the banks of a river, but it has disappeared as if it had never existed.I regret that I did not make a special note of the memory of the first love to writers, myself included. Duras’s “L’ amant” is his first love, but for a long time the protagonist is unaware of it. In my experience, men often remember the story of their first love. I don’t remember much, honestly. I don’t know when it was love, but then there’s a haze when I try to remember it.
I was dating a guy a few years ago and he asked me about my first love, but I have a semi-questioning narrative tone mixed with my English. I kept saying “maybe” as if it was not my experience. This usage is normally taboo in English-speaking countries. it’s strange to say “Maybe” when it’s your own memory. Nevertheless, when it comes to my memories, it’s “maybe”.
He remembered his first girlfriend so clearly. It seemed that just by listening to him, the woman would come to life. I could even see them kissing with the scent of aquanaut. I was watching the zoetrope-like afterimages he was showing me. His memories are untainted and in constant motion.
I said, ” good memory,” and he said, “Chris too?” I said, “Maybe”
When he kept asking me about the past, I said, “Is it such a big deal? I vividly remember the sound of my fork dropping on my plate. Up to this point, I had always smiled. But in the flow of words I recall, there is no smile. I guess this is my tone of voice now. The truth is that I was laughing and talking, but now I begin to feel sad.
On the metro train on the way home, I reflected on the beautiful afterimage of him. The ” Girlfriend ” he talks about loves him all the time, and it makes my own heart burn. It wasn’t jealousy, but perhaps a love for the way he remembered her. At this moment, I remembered “L’ Amant” written by Marguerite Duras. I felt defeated that she remembered her first love, with an overseas Chinese, which I suppose is a talent for a writer. The first time a woman is with someone, she probably doesn’t remember it. The “pure ego” is a difficult thing. Once a relationship has lost its way, its way of functioning, once it has been positioned as ” not to love “, it does not allow the conceptual manifestation of having loved to take place. I kept forgetting for the sake of the new guy. I had to forget as a break.
The characters in this novel world have no names. This man and woman seem to have expressed that they will not leave their names in history.
The girl’s family, tricked into poverty, lives in French Indochina. There she meets an older man, an overseas Chinese, with whom she has an affair. The man tells the girl that he loves her, even though he has been contracted to marry another woman. But the girl tells him that it was for money. After the wedding, the girl waits in the “common bedroom” for him to come again, but he never comes. Thanks to his “support money” she is able to return to her hometown and notices that his car is parked there.
She rests her elbows on the handrail, just as when she first met him.
When the girl realizes that she has loved an overseas Chinese, the scene on the ship enters the minds of many readers.
With the realization that “I have lost confidence that I did not love him”, She was on the ship, not with him. Chopin’s waltz No. 10 in B minor, OP69-2, played on the cruise ship, is the piece that led the protagonist to give up the piano, but it seems to have finally run its course for her.
It frustrates the performer to be unable to play the piano, even though there is a complete score. But in the world of writing, she has completed Chopin’s music. She has succeeded in making her readers listen. More than anyone else, more beautiful than any pianist, she has made Chopin heard.
The word “image” appears frequently in the book, and Duras uses it to describe all the glances and memories of her girlhood. In French, the word image can also mean a reproduction, an exact copy. The girl in the work is also a likeness of herself. In the film, a scene in which she puts her foot on the fence of a ship is very impressive.
Regardless of human sentimentality and the search for love, the Mekong River flows unchanged, passing trade and people. The water has no ego, no desire, it lives and it dies. The Mekong has always existed, without memory being able to contract eternity. As we grow old, we may forget. Remembrance, the ship, seldom departs. The ship is a symbol of substance. The girl’s elbows (or, in the film, her feet) on the fence of the boat are evidence of the reality of the image.
Why did Duras write about his memories as a teenager after all these years? Speculation and reader curiosity about why Duras wrote about his teenage memories after all these years became the wind in the girl’s hair.
She had succeeded in preserving her first love. Like the success of a long sea journey.
For the girl, God’s revelation was on the ships.
There is no scaffolding in the nature of immersion. Hiding from each other, a shady relationship was a world of disconnection between two people. We never introduced them to our friends, we never told our families. I was running down the stairs to the underground, avoiding the crowds, following the many open doors with wide eyes, when I heard a ring on my earpiece.
How happy I was to hear him say, “I had a great time”, and my feet moved away from the doors, as if to break away from the crowd. Leaning against the platform wall, my feet hot in my heels, and waited for his reply. ‘I’m worried about you, call me when you get home,” he said, so I got on the next train.
Pleasant memories become melancholic stories at the end of the relationship.
Like the girl who said, “I’m old at eighteen”
The first love I tried to tell him about was the tale of how I eventually became a woman. I wonder if there is a moment in a man’s life when becomes a man, I have never heard of it until now.
I had nothing to say except that I had become a woman.I couldn’t say, “I’d choke if I remembered the man “, and my hand slackened involuntarily and I dropped my fork.
That’s all I remember sometimes. Love between humans can hurt people to death .It gives and receives wounds, and when it is over, the tears are more for the good memories than for the sad ones.
Melancholy narratives are more than words, they are dreams.
Unbound by the confines of words, the heart is a dream that becomes an image.
I always dream that one day I will be able to tell a story that is only sad now, but that it was love. I keep dreaming about how a sad story can become love.
Catholicism had yet to be philosophically organized.
There are many genres of fiction today, One of the things I love about literature is that it makes use of what is really only a record. A simple lost love can be embellished by a single word, a forgotten dead can have a meaning. The loneliness that people tell us to forget, the happiness that seems so ordinary, all depend on our own sensibility, and we can decide whether our life is just a record with oblivion or a shining life.
It is left to the sensibility of the writer to verbalize and leave behind the succession of moments that disappear from the world that no one picks up. Perhaps those who have such a point of view are those who are terrified of the moment disappearing as it is. Some people are happier to forget, others to talk about their misfortunes, so that their loneliness becomes cathartic through monologue.
For these people, the ability to speak their own language is important.
As for me, I create in the fictional world the heat that I did not live in the real world. There may be many emotions that I have killed for social reasons, but the emotions that I could not delete and the place where my faith lives is the fictional world. It is an introversion, but an extroversion that challenges the world. I’ve never been pessimistic about it.
Artists are left with only two choices: mere madness or genius. Van Gogh and Caravaggio are good examples. And Emilie Bronte, whose inner world was immeasurably darker than the one she wrote about in “Wuthering Heights”. A true artist does not look for “genius” to win the admiration of others. The poetic sentiment and the way of looking at things that he could not abandon is a God-given gift, and that is what he is in Christianity. The sensibility that almost killed me many times when I was urged to be social was never socially disadvantageous to me in life. What’s next is to find out if this really was a gift from God.
I want to know the answer to the question of whether it really was. Vladimir Nabokov’s “The Gift” is such a story, and it is also the story of Nabokov’s alter ego in exile in Russia.
One term I have coined is “Soar point”. It has taken me many years to get this theory down to an understanding.
I’m going to write about it in an irregular series.
In the fictional world, there is no standard height of land. It is a world of language.
I try to write about light, temperature, color and space. The writing is plain, sober, rhyming, It is pregnant with poetic sentiment，
The words are like music, even the spaces between the letters are meaningful, and the protagonist walks through the world I have created, manipulating them.
The first work, ‘Pangaea Doll’, is based on a real patient in a laboratory in England. She was a patient who was strange, but who did not know where she had gone in the real world. The intersection of dream and reality was a psychological and scientifically possible delusion. But the name of the disease was something I made up. It was my first fictional world.
In the second work, “Iconograph”, there is no prominent fictional object, but the clock tower of a mechanical clock becomes imaginary. The phenomenology of the “bird’s nest” is based on the 13th chapter of Matthew’s Gospel.
Jesus was at sea, on a boat where no plants could grow. So he compared the Word of God to a seed. Some seeds can be sown in one place, but the birds will come and eat them. Other seeds fell on stony ground, where the soil was not deep enough and they sprouted quickly, but when the sun came up, they were burnt and withered away because they had no roots. It is difficult for the plant, the Word of God, to grow. ”Listen if you have ears.“The boy who hears these words and The protagonist, Kawamura Koune, goes on a journey of thought to hear God’s blessing. In Japan, Christianity is frowned upon if you don’t like it, and the characters cross over from longing for faith to oblivion, to disgust, and back to blessing. If this were the only explanation, people would mistakenly believe that there is no romance in this novel. That’s the trouble. There is love and death in this story too.
But the first reason I don’t say this is because I believe that waiting for the assessment of a mediocre love affair or death is just an emotional assessment. It is a sad fact that the real world is the same way. Death is equal, but there are special graves for special deaths, and classes for the deaths of the unconscious and the body. But the soul is equal, and the literary world can save even the most unlikely of beings. Literature must have the fervor to express what the masses have ceased to say. Love and death cannot be conveyed by begging only for sympathy, even if it is true. The soul may live without emotional sympathy if it is metaphorically told how the world works and how God works in it. The external world is rarely captured. But the enrichment of the inner world can make even an empty life seem like a footnote.
Many times I have been opposed to adding philosophy or religion to literature, but I have never given in. Perhaps it is because I know how cruel it is to assess the feelings of others. It follows that one’s own words do not grow, and that the same is true of God.
If the Word of God is a plant, it is the bird that spins it into a nest that grows beautifully. The bird’s nest is not only a bird’s nest, but also a part of the human world that it picks up and builds.
My fictional world is such a phenomenology. It represents the formation of orientation, the world created by orientation, while waiting for the analysis of existence. My literature is thus an amalgamation of spins, and there is no such thing as a complete lie. The heat that did not live in this world becomes a fiction.
Just as a bird’s nest still does not know exactly how to nest with precision, so I weave my experiences, my fantasies. From the fictional “land” of the precise nest, uncertain of how it is completed, my story takes Soar. And the seeds dropped by these birds of fancy can grow or disappear. The reader’s understanding constructs a third world as a plant that grows. That image is both sad and hopeful.
Night after night, morning after morning, the little mermaid went to the beach to see if she could find her prince.
Andersen's The Little Mermaid
Andersen’s “The Little Mermaid” is one that makes me think over and over again. I won’t comment on the Disney version
I’m not going to comment on the Disney version of “The Little Mermaid” because I don’t care for it, but many commentaries on the original story end with the Little Mermaid turning into bubbles and dying, when in fact there is more to the story.
But in fact there is more to the story. The little mermaid, who did not get a human soul, does not go to heaven but becomes a spirit. It is explained to her that she is not a bad spirit and that she can go to heaven after 300 years. If she comes into contact with a good child, her day will be one day earlier, but if she meets a bad child, it will be one day later. Andersen’s message to the children is.
Be a good boy so that the Little Mermaid can go to heaven as soon as possible.
The Little Mermaid is made up of three main elements.
The Little Mermaid is said to have been influenced by Fouquet’s “Undine”. For the Christian world, the Holy Spirit of water lives apart from the grace of God. Probably this is based on the biblical interpretation that water existed from the beginning of Genesis. Such a confrontational being tries to become a human being, which makes the reader imagine what it means to be human. The setting was such that a being like the Little Mermaid would not be as short-lived as a human being. And most of all, they were afraid of death. Mermaids can live for 300 years, but after death they turn into bubbles.In the world of mermaids, the old people do not doubt that they are happy to live 300 years longer and drift away in bubbles, and only the youngest mermaid princess yearns for human death and soul. Only the youngest, the mermaid princess, yearns for human death and the soul, as well as for eternity.
For her, it was “love” that gave her the opportunity to do so. The world of mermaids can ascend to the world of humans at the age of 15. For these girls, it was their one chance to see the world that God had created. Each of the sisters has seen the world of God’s grace in different ways. From the bottom of the water to the top, it is the same for the believer to see each landscape. It is often misunderstood that each landscape is different, just as each believer is unique, even though they read the same Bible. The immanent world of the mermaid (later refuted by Husserl) is existentialist, just as Kierkegaard said that we must quit chasing ‘truth’ and challenge philosophy by separating philosophy from theology. Only the youngest, the Little Mermaid, has acquired something called “love”. Love is the feeling of wanting to connect with someone. With the occult mysticism of the witch, she became a human being.
However, she has lost her voice and her legs hurt. To get rid of this, she had to be discovered by the prince.
The Little Mermaid is a symbol of the “poor” for Andersen. The mermaid is a symbol of the “poor ” for Andersen, a man who had almost no human rights, but who thought calmly about how he could get his rights, which were financial. In the world of the Bible, language is considered to be important. That’s what the first chapter of John’s Gospel says This is because in the first chapter of John’s Gospel, the Logos hymn, “With God was speech”, is also attributed to man.
The pain in the feet is because the legs were the proof that he had become a man from a mermaid, and because the biblical world values that there is always suffering during life.
When you read the original story in detail, the Little Mermaid is actually loved by the prince. He is searching for the little mermaid after she has fallen and disappeared. The prince and princess are grieving the loss of the little mermaid and are staring at the sea foam.
It was agape, not dyeing, not erosive. It is perhaps ironic that the poorer a person is, the less he or she is able to achieve real happiness and the more he or she has to depend on God’s love, the love of God, the love that surrounds him or her, agape. In order to exist as a human being, the Little Mermaid had to obtain something substantial.In order to have human rights, she had to belong to an authority such as a prince.In order to have human rights, she had to belong to an authority such as a prince. The love of marriage is substantial and mysterious.
Marriage is one of the most mysterious things in Christendom. The irony of this is existentialism and realism. This story exists in both.
At first glance, “I fell in love with a prince” seems like an optimistic dream.
Compared with, for example, Charles Perrault’s fairy tales about a nobleman’s daughter, Andersen’s cruelty is out of line. But he believed in the love of God.
This drift is well expressed in Andersen’s work.
I have heard that the only people who were not hostile to Andersen were the children he read to.I have heard it said. He wanted the children to love the Little Mermaid, to feel pure pity for her. And we read to them to remind them to be good so that she can go to heaven one day.
And as we grow older, we are influenced again and again by the pure love of the Little Mermaid. She must have found happiness. She fell in love with a prince in the world of God’s grace.
She fell in love with a prince in the world of God’s grace.
This is not a sad story. It is a look at what we do.
The story takes place in Germany, where Michael, then 15, becomes jaundiced on his way to school and is found and nursed by Hanna, 36, who is a year older than him. They eventually become romantics, but for some reason Hanna invites the protagonist to read some books to her. One of the books, Odysseus, is estimated to have taken place in the 1200s BC, during the time of the Trojan War and the Mycenaean civilization. In the eighth century BCE, Homerosu put together a collection of stories based on the 400 years of Trojan warfare that had been handed down by “oral tradition”. (The Iliad and Odysseas )
The protagonist, born after the Second World War, reads this lore and facts for Hannah.
Hanna has many secrets and suddenly disappears from his sight. The protagonist cannot accept her loss but forgets about it. The year is 1960 and the world is in the throes of a student movement.
He is now a university student. While attending a seminar on the trial of Nazi war criminals, he finds himself standing in front of
Hanna, whom he had once loved.
She was a prison guard in a concentration camp.
As the trial progressed, the hero remembered that Hanna had asked him to read a book. As he watched her trial, the protagonist realised that Hanna was illiterate. She couldn’t read and had moved from one job to another before it became known that she couldn’t read.
Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that she was a Roma from Romania. In front of the print that she could not read, she opened the door to the world only with his voice. She immersed herself in the warmth of his skin and the world that his voice took her to, knowing that one day she would meet her fate. The trial is a life sentence against her, without her realising that she is illiterate.
In the trial of the concentration camp officials, the key question was whether they had intended to kill her or not, but it was recorded that Hannah had read books to the prisoners. At that point, it was false.
Michaela was unable to love another woman, even though she had long since forgotten Hanna.
He has been in contact with his father, a professor of philosophy, about Hannah. Finally, Hanna is pardoned, but thanks to the help of the protagonist, she is able to write, and after.
When “The Reader” became popular, many felt disgusted by the romance between a 15-year-old and a 36-year-old.
Judging them only by their age and their bodies, they called the love of another person, even if it was fiction, freaky.
People are equal in soul if you take off their skin, but they don’t care about that. But they don’t understand what it means to be separated by age. Could they have expressed the intertwining of the protagonist, who had never heard of this war, and the woman whose job was to be judged by the world? At a time when people assumed that people who were like war criminals were evil, there was nothing but love between two people who did not know each other’s position. I don’t dwell too much on the “Nazis”. It is a story of love.
The fictional world, which incorporates reality, allows us to write about love, slipping past the arguments that cannot be conceded in the real world.
Only in stories can the possibility of love be described in the midst of all the hatred.
An American writer once told me that writers can hear the voices of their characters in their heads. The written world is unique, without sound, time or color. It is up to the writer to decide what kind of loneliness and emotion he or she feels within it, but for the writer, publication is just a voice.
In the hands of the reader, he or she constructs a third world out of the world of the novel, and begins to understand his or her own novel. And they wonder. And they wonder. I want a reader. (Perhaps a film adaptation would be the most desirable these days.
I hadn’t looked very carefully, but when I found a reader, the world opened up to me.
Her beloved Michaela had a future to live up to in the famous words of the Odyssey. Hannah is not given such a thing. The author’s choice of this classic has many implications.
Every human being has a monologue. Her life was one in which she was never allowed to have hope again. The reading from him, temporarily young, was a new world, his own monologue. He must have been a spokesman for her.
The author’s choice of the classic “The Odyssey” has many implications: it shows that even among those who must be judged, there is love. Only a novel can do this. There is no other reality in which you can write about unforgivable love in a fictional world and say publicly that even war criminals had love.
The film title, oddly enough, was Japanese: ” 愛を読む人”.
The love formed by a voice disappears the fastest. The love formed by the voice fades away the fastest. Of the five senses, it is the voice that we lose first in memory. Next comes sight, touch, taste and smell.
Michael sent a tape he had recorded again for Hanna. With “The Odyssey”.
But he didn’t sound the same as he did then. She did not recognise his love.
She didn’t recognize it as his love, but as a voice that was trying to rehabilitate her.
I thought it was Hannah’s impulse to commit suicide.
Perhaps. The voice of the young man she loved had disappeared.
Who was the reader of the Holocaust?
The new reader for her was not the man she loved.
If there had been no war, we would have been souls of the same age and background. And yet it was a sad story of division. But judgement cannot divide us from love. Even if we are torn apart, the past, in which his voice lived, lives on, even if it disappears from our memories.
Love” remained as a residue.
＊about Obysseus quote: This is a sentence from Odysseus and is not mentioned in the novel.*
Outline of this post.
In 2018, during my recuperation period after a suicide attempt, I read Yukio Mishima" The Sun and Steel." In it, he wrote about feelings that were neither fiction nor criticism.
He wrote about "confession" at night, "criticism" by day, and a time when he was neither.
I will taste this neither time until 2021.
The book, which was also the subject of a controversial debate at the University of Tokyo (1969), seems not to have been appreciated in Japan at the time. I have been on the road from leaving Catholicism to conversion.
I was struggling to talk about this mortal disease in my story. Would it be non-fiction, or should I force it to be fiction? Whether I choose the sun or the night.
There was also the question of Catholicism and the political uncertainty of the future in Japan. For many years, I had forgotten the poetry of Mishima response to the sun.
In 2021, I have decided to move on to the night (literature).
This involves a lot of interpretation on my part. In Sartre's terms, it is "the other with the subject".
Apologies that this is not a thorough explanation of the sun and Steel.
The” Sun and Steel” was one of Yukio Mishima lesser-known works at the time. After a long time.I read this in 2018 and found much to sympathies with. I read this in 2018 and found much to sympathies with. In the process of writing, some things are difficult to express even as a novel. I too fell into that groove around 2017. Probably every artist. I feel like it comes to every artist. Sometimes we can’t establish ourselves because we are confused by current trends or common perceptions. Mishima described it as an intermediate form between confession and criticism, “a kind of hidden criticism”.
Mishima is perhaps the only person who has focused on the area of twilight that exists between night as confession and day as criticism.
Sartre’s raison d’etre about existence and essence is that existence precedes essence, but this kind of wayward speculation, a combination of fiction and criticism, is a wandering interior that does not know the outer skin of existence, and is itself an embryo that does not know the outer world (essence).
It is the equivalent of inference, prediction and prophecy. When the result is not yet known, even if we think we have grasped the essence, we cannot be sure. A novel does not have enough material to be written, and a criticism is only an assumption made a few years in the future. But there are times when the feeling is strong.
At such times, I think back to Van Gogh’s Madness paintings.
His paintings were first of all existentially unsuccessful. Later, his brother Theo’s wife succeeded in selling Van Gogh’s paintings and made him into the genius that he is today. Over time, they created the essence of Van Gogh’s paintings. Over time, they created the essence of Van Gogh’s paintings, or the world discovered them.
I think Mishima is right when he declares in this book that he is not a poet. Poets, like Van Gogh’s paintings, are not afraid of consequences, and they do not fall between confession and criticism. Hermann Hesse is a genius as a poet and Rubaiyat dances without fear of criticism from Christians.
It seems to me that Iran is famous for its poets. Perhaps they are not afraid of death (or the oppression of others). That free enthusiasm, which neither the cooperation of the Japanese nor the argumentative nature of the West can match, is something to be admired and, as a result of more social experience, I think we will never have it again. We all dream of it and run with it, but the tragedy and happiness that we have created with our speculations, from pacifisms, through physical pain, gradually becomes a reality.
When I was young, I would have run without fear. In the midst of it all, joy and despair, like differential and integral calculus, were repeated, and expectation and despair may have exceeded real reality. In the midst of this repetition of the mundane routine, where sleep brings morning and daily life again, I had my moments of real despair.
In turn, disappointment and disillusionment increased, becoming part of the larger reality of the real world.
Gradually, disappointment and disillusionment increase, and the artist becomes part of the larger existential context of the real world.
That’s the end of the artist. It is only natural that he should lose his individuality.
I’m trying to be unique because of my long established taste, but my body is screaming. The days when I used to write poetry in the evening, even if it was bad, seem like a lie.
It was a mistake in the first place to see it as a defeat. The thought of being abandoned by night and day
It will always go somewhere. It is like a long, inflexible Steel. That is how I see it.
In my analysis, Mishima Steel element probably became the sun and led to his suicide.
I have decided, after a long time, to return to the Night once more. That’s when I retired as a journalist. It is proof that I am no longer outspoken about current affairs. The man who lives by night lives for the invisible presence of human sensibility. The man who lives by day lives for the market and the human condition.
There is no right or wrong, because both are necessary.
But when speech and knowledge are wasted, it is tempting to talk about real problems.
Isn’t it the starting point of a literary person to keep that ” babble ” silent until night?
I will not write directly about why I attempted suicide, or the process of my conversion. Instead, I will start to confess, as if in the night, my memories and records were a wild reflection.
In this fictional world, the person who speaks for me is a man and other women, and the story goes on. There is, in effect, a fictional character (a lie). But the essence is not a lie. Within the non-existent outer skin, there is an interior that I have experienced and gone through.
I have read a lot of Mishima during my illness. But I chose a different path from him.
In his writings he wrote
“Now I no longer believe with all my heart in the idea of classicism, about which I was so passionate at the age of twenty-six. I no longer believe in it with all my heart”
I might not have the awe-inspiring ardor of my youth, either. I sympathies with him in this confession under the sun.
But, like the protagonist of the piano tuner I am writing about, I intend to expand the literature to say that sound does not die. In the despair of the protagonist, my inner light is incorporated.