The Gate (Natsume Sōseki, 1910)


門 is a 1910 novel written by one of the absolute classics of Japanese literature, Natsume Kinnosuke [夏目 金之助], best known by pen-name Natsume Sōseki [夏目 漱石] (1867-1916). Sosuke and Oyone are a middle age married couple getting along better than most, even in barren, dull and economically limited circumstances; they live at a cliff's border, have no children, no friends and almost no family. An almost minimalist plot unfolds as Soseku finds himself in need of helping his youngest brother Koroku, now in trouble being left alone by their old aunt, in charge of him until then due his being the younger of the two too-soon orphaned brothers. In the middle of quite ordinary circumstances, magnified to a tremendous degree by Sōseki's masterful depiction of daydream reflections and psychological processes of the characters, we get the sense of an imminent crisis lurking in the background of all of them, finally released by an invitation to a social event hold by Mr.Sakai, Sosuke's wealthy landlord. We get intimations of the past lived circumstances of Sosuke and Oyone, and of their permanent social exclusion even in the middle of a quickly industrialized Tokyo, product of a traumatic event yet no truly faced by both of them (one, and definitely not the only of the Sōsekian themes compiled in here). Yet, don't be fooled by this apparently simple plot; this book has profound, unexpected depths which, one often feels, overlap with the desperately mundane activities and attitudes of Sosuke, former dandy student now beaten by life, conforming to a routine of boredom and exhausting work. Yet, melancholic, mysterious and sometimes plain metaphysical undertones permeate every page. It has passages of utter lyrical beauty also, masterfully disposed in stark contrast with these circumstances, and a subtle description of the vivid experiences which sometimes remind us of Hesse or Heine. Not that Sōseki needs to be compared with other authors in order to get higher; he can be regarded the creator of one of the most original and authentic synthesis of literature period, considering his historical momentum.

Speaking of influences and recurring themes in Sōseki's work, I'll try to pick up some from 門's pages. Along with the unfinished 明暗 [Light And Darkness] (1916), it may be one of the richer novels for this purpose. It really has the feeling of the late period of the author, close to his interest of Zen Buddhism during his last years. The previously mentioned traumatic event, hidden in the past and not openly discussed for the most part, appears not as much as an enigma but as the source of the general feeling one gets from the tormented couple, living in their small house, in which Sōseki introduces us so masterfully. The deep burden hidden under the façade of quotidian existence takes a hold in every attitude of Sosuke way before we even get to know about it, and we do relatively late in the work. We get to accept and understand his life of acceptance in the face of permanent adversity way before any question about his past arises: in part because Sosuke is in fact Sōseki's reflection on the situation of the modern man and his permanent state of uncertainly, another common theme of Meiji Literature. Another one being, of course, some (yet not blatant or perplexing) reference to western philosophy and literature. In some moments Sosuke wonders if he is not trapped in a dark dream, organized by an evil and deceiving demon lurking behind him, in reference to Descartes's idea, happily discussed in modern Japan. One can feel Kafka here, for sure. At some point Sosuke is described as a lone wolf cut out from Japanese social life, in a reference to Hesse's Der Steppenwolf. Other references to Zen and Nietzschean philosophy could be spotted; in fact, one wonders as many do if Sosuke's fear and perplexity when facing the gate of a Zen monastery (hence the title, 門) after his unfruitful approach to satori and having declined to face his past, could be reenacting a same circumstance found in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, where the Gate of Time simbolyzes chance, and the moment. Not improbable, considering many other references to the Übermensch even in a satirical context, such as that of 吾輩は猫である [I Am A Cat] (1905–1906).

Now that I mention Sōseki's satirical background at the start of his career, which features in almost everything he wrote during his life, one notes, even in such a sad, atmospheric history as that of 門, many humorous elements of the kind Sōseki loved to endow his characters with. Realism as commonly defined, a trace of naturalism maybe (to which Sōseki is generally depicted as contrarian), Sōseki's characters always have their occasions of goofiness in passing thoughts (as we all do), and they always have an illness, an injury, an operation to overcome. Visits to the dentist, the doctor or prescripted medicine are common themes in his works, and he gets quite descriptive about it. Here, Sosuke's tooth gum gets softy and has a cavity, indicating irreparable tooth decay. Fever and other kind of operations always appear to remind not only to the characters but to the reader that it's all human too-human, limited, imperfect, and unexpected. The lesson is always permanent change and concrete circumstances. And that's another mark of Sōseki's style, from the physical caricatures of characters courtesy of the cat of 吾輩は猫である (first novel) to Tsuda's incision of 'the tissue closer to the anus' in 明暗 (the latter). One can only add that Sōseki's depiction of the psicology of illness and its disturbing effects on regular consciousness is as masterful as can be.

This novel also mentions, as 明暗 did two years later, the -in practice- occupied Manchuria. By the time of Sōseki's death, Manchuria had not been formally invaded (as that happened in the early 1930's) and Manchukuo did not exist. Yet, the Japanese had the control of 関東州 [Kwantung] since Portsmouth's Treaty (1905), and even before, they had conquered it during the First Sino-Japanese war. Partially under the administration of the 関東軍 [Kwantung's army], locus of one of the most right-wing and at all effects pro-fascist faction of the Japanese army, the 皇道派 [Kōdōha], Kwnatung was considered, as many other early colonies, as a provider of heavy industry manufacture. In Sōseki's time, many Japanese without a foreseen future in Japan's main islands, took Manchuria as the so-called Last Frontier: a place to start anew, in which one could overcome present and past social status and get to be rich and respected via hard work, or easily be ruined, lost in the manufacturing fields, the railway or the harbors, without possibility of returning to Japan. Manchuria was, in short, a gamble to be considered for many people, unlike better organized Japanese-ruled colonies as that of Taiwan. Two characters of 門 are marked by Manchuria: Sakai's brother (ruined by his initial enterprise) and Yasui, Sosuke's friend at the university. In 明暗, Sōseki's final work, is Kobayashi -upstart and suspicious character- who constantly talks about his leaving Japan and finding work in Manchuria. Of course, many contemporaries of Sōseki, from political figures to merchants fled to Manchuria at some point. The point here is not political, even if Sōseki lived in times prone to nationalism; to him as a writer Manchuria was a state of mind: that of the adventurer, even the pariah. That of those souls too dispossessed or damaged to try a leap in the unknown, far from comfortably known (even if hostile) Japan. In this respect, Sōseki experimented a time in which interesting, original and variable characters were manifest in many Japanese as never before, considering the importation of western technology and ideas, the disruption of traditional order and considerations, during those wild years of Meiji, Taisho and Showa.

Themes both traditional and contemporary to many authors of this period would included mentioned tension between new and old, Buddhist themes and traditional arts, and a romantic descriptive intensity and importance of nature and its processes. In fact, Japan may have been predisposed to embrace literary romanticism as strongly as it did since it first arrived its shores, along with all western literature at once. As commonly known, Shintō as integral part of social order in Edo Japan, as well as traditional Japanese poetry and literature, all favored a deep identification with said processes and forces, that still persist today, decades after Japan's modernization. Yet, as conclusion, one can only state that, in receiving all those themes and influences,  Sōseki had a synthetic talent capable of making them his own. Absolutely. Doesn't matter which one of his books you pick up first: they all have a deep mark of style. A deep, intricate and even claustrophobic set of relationships between characters, all of them chain-reacting by virtue of any gesture, any common memory, any word -or silence. The continuing burst of the unexpected, the comical or the utterly beautiful never lets seriousness or the mysterious escape. Rarely you get the feeling or progressing a lineal history: you advance by excavating, getting deeper, crossing paper doors one after another.

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