Oe Kenzaburo is an immaculate writer. His humble, honest and beautiful prose is as lucid as ever, and his ability to convey the tragic inner madness of Kuraki Marie is disturbing.
This nonfiction book is a biopic of Oe Kenzaburo's friend, Kuraki Marie. Kuraki Marie is a stalwart an outspoken person, one in which her personality will make the reader either love her or hate her. There is very little middle ground, as she is openly confrontational about her beliefs and what is appropriate for herself and, to a lesser extent, those around her. While I do not want to tell future readers exactly what kind of tragedy befalls Kuraki, I will say that it is a tragedy involving her family that one can easily see as making a person descend into a despair that one may very well never climb out of. . .
While tragic novels are not typically something I shy away from (I think Dostoevsky's "The Idiot" is a masterpiece) I cannot truly love this nonfiction novel. For me, and this may just be my personal taste, I find Kuraki Marie distasteful. Even before her tragedy occurs she has the makings of a person who prizes theatrics in speaking to consciously create her own character. A case in point is when she is describing how Flannery O'Conner's short stories have played a central role in how she interprets the world. It is not that O'Conner's works are bad, because in reality they are brilliant, it is how she speaks in a manner which leaves others with the impression that she is trying to forcefully make you want to read O'Conner's works to understand the world. (Hell, even Oe Kenzaburo started reading O'Conner afterwords.) If you think of how a christian zealot comes onto you, it is a little more subtle than that, but essentially it leaves you with the same bitter aftertaste.
As for Kuraki Marie after the tradgedy involving her family, she takes misery to an extreme level. I am not trying to lessen her tragedy, because you can tell from her letters to Oe that she is indeed suffering a world of pain which has no end, yet her personality makes me have little sympathy for her. She takes what emotions she has and projects them onto others surrounding her, almost in a way that makes me believe that she wants others to sink into her miasma as well, not just to illicit sympathy. And once again, her tragedy is a play, as if she cannot detract her true sorrow from the theatrical airs she puts on.
All in all, I find that this is a valid novel, one in which Oe must have felt some disquiet, almost like a reflection of what was going on in his soul during the writing process. It left me feeling reflective in an uncomfortable way, and I think that may have been Oe's intent. I give this novel 4 stars because whether I found it entertaining is not the goal of this novel. I think that the purpose was to make the reader reflect on how he or she acts in front of others. Do we say what we truly mean, or do we use theatrics to get our meaning across? Maybe that is why I disliked Kuraki, because her mannerisms are a reflection of the ugliness inside of me which I want to shy away from.