Runaway Horses
(The Sea of Fertility #2)
by Yukio Mishima, Michael Gallagher (Translator)
4.20 · Rating details · 6,044 ratings · 453 reviews
Isao is a young, engaging patriot, and a fanatical believer in the ancient samurai ethos. He turns terrorist, organising a violent plot against the new industrialists, who he believes are threatening the integrity of Japan and usurping the Emperor’s rightful power. As the conspiracy unfolds and unravels, Mishima brilliantly chronicles the conflicts of a decade that saw the fabric of Japanese life torn apart. (less)
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Paperback, 432 pages
Published March 11th 1999 by Vintage Classics (first published 1969)
Original Title奔馬 [Honba]
ISBN0099282895 (ISBN13: 9780099282891)
Edition LanguageEnglish
SeriesThe Sea of Fertility #2
CharactersShigekuni Honda, Isao Iinuma, Shigeyuki IinumaSettingOsaka (Japan)
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Runaway Horses (The Sea of Fertility, #2)
الجياد الهاربة
Caballos desbocados
Kaçak Atlar
Runaway Horses: The Sea of Fertility, 2 (Vintage International)
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William2
Sep 14, 2017William2 rated it liked it · review of another edition
Shelves: fiction, ww-ii, 20-ce, japan, translation, china
3½⭐️ This novel and The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea are my two favorite Mishima books of the seven I've read so far.
Runaway Horses is set in 1932-33, a time of economic hardship in Japan, not long after the start of the great global Depression. Farmers, especially, are suffering. Rice imports have been allowed into Japan. This has allowed for the population to be fed but at the cost of depressing domestic rice prices for farmers, many of whom are now starving. Factory workers, too, no longer needed in a depressed economy, return to the family farms which they once left with great aspirations, compounding the general misery.
Meanwhile, 21st-century style Trumpian capitalists are playing the economy for every last yen. David Bergamini, in his book Japan's Imperial Conspiracy, describes the currency speculation on the part of government and aristocracy at this time, which he calls the “dollar swindle.” Let's just say, the episode was not good for the yen, nor the Japanese economy as a whole.
This is the setting in which eighteen-year-old Isao, raised and radicalized by a dipsomaniacal right-wing father—banzai!—sets about making the terrible state of Japan better. His plan, and he has many followers, all about eighteen years old as well, is to kill ten major capitalists, blow up the Bank of Japan and take out eight electrical substations as a means of forcing a state of marshal law and, thus, the restoration of imperial rule. One fat cat in particular, Busuké Kurahara, is much hated. The man on the street, including Isao, believes the Emperor has been hoodwinked by those close to him. (It’s a variation on the “If Hitler only knew” rationalization, so rife in Nazi Germany in those years.)
Mishima adored writing about boys. (Mishima adored boys.) The lad in this case, Isao, has a passion for purity and loyalty and death, that only roughly translates for the Western reader. I had a very hard time trying to understand why a lad of eighteen would be interested in killing capitalists and then cutting open his own stomach. It’s something abstruse having to do with honor. Maybe there’s a rough equivalent for it in Western chivalry, though it should be noted that most European knights were little more than banditti. I don’t know. But to me, even perhaps to some Japanese alive today, the whole mindset is irrational and, thus, incomprehensible, like gassing Jews.
For most of the book Isao seems to operate in a virtual intellectual vacuum. It’s hard to know how or why he’s motivated to act as he does. All that secrecy, all that time with his fellow boys. Is he operating on secret knowledge or is he completely insane? Mishima badly muddles Isao. At the end of the novel, Isao stands up in court and gives an overly detailed speech on his motivations which strikes the reader as completely out of character. Suddenly, the boy’s using adverbs? This taciturn and lonely kid is now giving lessons in Japanese history and current affairs? When just before, in prison, there was a passage in which he thought of himself as too intellectually dim; in other words, without the very mellifluousness he later displays in court? IMHO, it's a tremendous gaffe.
Interestingly enough, Isao is locked up in Ishigaya Prison, which turns out to be the very spot where Mishima would make his final stand on November 25, 1970. (Though by then the building was called the Self-Defense Force Headquarters.) You may remember photos of Mishima in full military dress without insignia hortatorily espousing samurai virtues from atop a carport outside the building, which led to cat calls and public derision, before committing seppuku (literally, stomach cutting). He was 45. The day before, we are told, he completed the very last page of the last novel of the present tetralogy, The Decay of the Angel.
That said, we must also remember that this second volume—the first volume is Spring Snow; see my review—continues the story of the reincarnated Kiyoaki Matsugae, when his close friend, Honda, comes to believe that he has found the soul of his old friend reborn in the person of the young Isai Iinuma who, to complicate matters further, is also the son of Kiyoaki's old tutor. I have to admit on finishing the novel that the reincarnation kerfuffle seems unnecessary. It’s simply a device to ensure Honda’s ongoing participation in the complete four-novel cycle. Honda, now 38, is an esteemed Osaka judge early in his career. As such he is a firm believer in cold, rational discourse, which takes a severe blow once he becomes convinced—utterly convinced!—that he has come upon the reincarnated Kiyoaki Matsugae.
I’m committed to reading the next two novels in the cycle, but my expectations, I must admit, are rather middling. Mishima is always problematic for me. Then again there are times—especially when he’s moving through a landscape or describing the action of a scene—when his precision takes the breath away. So, recommended with reservations. If you’re like me—someone who’s read widely in Japanese history and literature, particularly of the last two centuries—the cycle may be essential. (less)
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Jim Fonseca
Jul 18, 2019Jim Fonseca rated it really liked it
Shelves: japan, japanese-authors
This book by the classic Japanese author is the second work in a series of four books called The Sea of Fertility cycle. Although you can pick up most of it in context, it really helps to have to have read the first volume, Spring Snow. For those who have not read it, here is a spoiler for that book:
Summary and spoiler for the first book in the series, Spring Snow: (view spoiler)
description
There are two main characters in Runaway Horses, a young boy of high school age who leads a band of youths (average age 18) who want to restore honor to the Emperor. The are fiercely anti-western and anti-capitalist. With rice famines and great rural poverty (it’s around 1932, still before World War II), they blame the newly-wealthy, Western-oriented capitalists who have taken over the parliament, deprived the Emperor of power, and weakened the honor of the samurai class. (They can’t carry swords, for example.) The boys are not just anti-western, they even refer to “Buddhist lackeys” and want to restore more of the original Japanese religion, Shinto. The boys hatch a plan to assassinate the upper echelons of the capitalist leadership and then kill themselves by seppuku, ritual suicide. But their plotting is betrayed to the police.
The second main character comes out of Spring Snow. He is 38 years old at the time of this story. He was the best childhood friend of the boy who died in the first book. He’s now an associate justice in the national courts. He’s all into rationalism and logic. But when he meets the young boy gang leader, he notices three moles on his body identical to his deceased friend from years ago. Despite his rationality, he comes to believe the young boy is his old friend reincarnated. And just to keep a bit of rationality alive, he also considers the possibility that the boy’s mother had been unfaithful with his deceased friend’s father.
When the boys’ plot is discovered and they are arrested, the judge resigns his judgeship and becomes their lawyer. (view spoiler)
It's a good story. On to the third volume: The Temple of Dawn.
description
Mishima (1925-1970) was a classic Japanese author. He was a lover of the Emperor, a fierce anti-communist and anti-foreigner who late in his short life led a band of young men trying to restore the powers of the Emperor, the Shinto religion, and the honor of the samurai class. The author committed ritual suicide the day he took the last of the four volumes, The Decay of the Angel, to the publisher.
Photo of Tokyo around the time of the story from oldtokyo.com
The author from live.staticflickr.com
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Adam Dalva
May 21, 2020Adam Dalva rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
An improvement on the wonderful Spring Snow - and yet totally dependent on it, as the scope and strangeness of Mishima's tetralogy comes into view. Honda, a supporting character from Spring Snow, now a judge, is shocked 20 years after the action of the first book to meet the reincarnation of his childhood friend, the listless aristocrat Kiyoaki Matsugae. Isao, the child of two other supporting characters from Spring Snow, is totally different from his predecessor. Isao is a physically adept zealot obsessed with Japanese nationality and the dream of seppuku, planning a youthful insurrection. The action is far more exciting than the first, with heists, violence, and militaristic passion at the fore, but some of the introspective humor and romance of the first book is lacking. When viewed as a diptych, though, each book's flaws become a strength.
Particularly striking is The League of The Divine Wind, a remarkable interpolated novella constructed by Mishima, which culminates in the blazing suicide of dozens of revolutionaries (there are real shades of Bolano's 2666 project here, w/ the recursive treatment of violence). It is impossible, of course, to separate any of this from Mishima's bizarre, depressing end, and the manifesto-like qualities of this work call to mind Eduoard Leve's Suicide. I can't think of anything exactly like this project - I can't wait to leap into the next one. (less)
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Matthew Ted
Nov 30, 2021Matthew Ted rated it really liked it
Shelves: lit-writ-japanese, 20th-century, read-2021, translated
122nd book of 2021.
3.5. Very different from the first book, and I'm wondering how Mishima is going to continue with the rest of the tetralogy (I say that as if it isn't all written and has been for 50 odd years). This isn't completely fulfilling as a novel but it is always compelling as a plot-burning, angry, mostly politically driven work about Japan and a young boy's (and Mishima's, let's not forget) desire to reinstate the Emperor. The young boy is mostly indoctrinated by a book that is within this book, which is quite long and I usually don't enjoy books within books (I get impatient for the "main text") but the story within the story was filled with violence and seppuku and kept me mostly intrigued by way of sick fascination. I think it's fairly clear to see that Mishima had a premonition of what he would do in January 1970. He finished the tetralogy that year and the day after, committed seppuku after failing to provoke a coup.
Mishima and I do not see eye-to-eye politically but that no longer bothers me so much. I went through a particularly self-righteous period in university where I tried to avoid right-wing writers or at least went into their works with little to no expectation. I grew out of that narrow-minded way of thinking and began to appreciate works of art, wherever they come from. This is now of course a much wider debate in the world today about who deserves recognition and who doesn't, depending on an artist's political/personal life. As far as I'm concerned, if we are thinking critically, we can explore any artist's work. That said, I respect Mishima's art but not so much his beliefs. There's a certain sadness around his death, which seemed so fruitless. Interestingly, the fruitlessness of extreme political action/violence is presented right here in these pages as if Mishima was fully self-aware of it. I've read some theories that suggest that Mishima knew his speech would never work and he was merely using it as an opportunity to commit seppuku. His friend and novelist Yasunari Kawabata was apparently haunted by Mishima after his death. And not just casually, as Kawabata's biographer recounts, Kawabata was "incessantly haunted by the specter of Mishima" for two or three hundred night in a row.
Outside of the political fury of the novel, we see Honda, the narrator from Spring Snow as a 30-something year old lawyer. The concept of this tetralogy is Honda's meeting, again and again, of his childhood friend, reincarnated in different (human) bodies. It isn't too dissimilar to what Mitchell was attempting in Cloud Atlas, a novel I disliked on paper, but adored in concept. Mishima does not hide the idea of reincarnation, which I thought he might, and has Honda reflecting on the ideas of souls and their transmigration in Buddhist teachings. A fascinating project that ended on the eve of the writer's own ritual suicide, for a seemingly fruitless reason. (less)
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Luís
Jun 24, 2020Luís rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
Shelves: g-historical-fiction, japan, e-5-favourites
The second instalment of Mishima's tetralogy, "Runaway Horses", began in 1932, when the great world depression had disastrous effects felt on all developed economies. Japan, with an unemployment rate of 20%, that's not spared.
Since the beginning of the Hirohito era six years earlier, Japan has experienced significant political instability. The assassination of Prime Minister Inukai on May 15, 1932, by naval officers was a terrible blow to the young Japanese democracy. Although having failed, this coup attempt marks the rise of the army in the country's affairs. In this particularly worrying economic and political context, at the age of 38 years, we find Honda in the post of adviser at the Court of Appeal of Osaka. Remember that Honda was, twenty years earlier, the friend of the late Kiyoaki Matsugae, the main character of the first opus "Spring Snow".
A few months later, Honda learns, amazed, of Isao's arrest and indictment and eleven accomplices for an attempted assassination of twelve eminent Japanese personalities. These captains of industry, these bankers, and these politicians are guilty in the eyes of the conspirators of being capitalists devoid of any national loyalty. A denunciation prevented the assassinations in extremis.
To everyone's surprise, Honda resigned from his post at the Court of Appeal and became the lawyer for the man he thought he knew better than anyone. This time taking on the role of defence, will he manage to save from prison these young purity-loving terrorists who had planned to kill themselves by seppuku as soon as the stabbing murders have accomplished? Everyone knew the tragic end of Mishima in November 1970.
"Runaway Horses" is like a will written a year earlier. The genesis of his suicide in the pure samurai tradition is recounted in a literary style forcing admiration. If there is one writer who has identified himself radically with one of his characters in a novel, it is Mishima! His young hero Isao puts on the coat of an ultranationalist venerating His Sacred Majesty the Emperor. Also, his endless patriotism combines the conformity of thought and action.
To the President of the court who asked him if patriotism could not remain simply a faith, Isao, referring to the Chinese philosopher Wang Yang-Ming replied: "To know and not to act is not yet to know".Then, as if Mishima wanted to justify himself in front of History, the writer makes his character say: "This is the philosophy that I have tried to put into practice". (less)
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[P]
Feb 24, 2015[P] rated it liked it
In the decadent West people often get together and have all kinds of pointless, speculative conversations. The current political climate being what it is, one subject that frequently comes up, at least amongst my friends, is whether you would be prepared to die for a cause, or an ideal. During these debates my position is unequivocal; my answer is a firm no. No. Never. Not under any circumstances. My vehemence can, in part, be explained by my cowardice. I am, I freely admit, a rum coward. I’m not dying before my time for anything, or anyone. Yet I do also have philosophical objections. The problem for me with any ideal – truth, honour, justice, whatever – is that they don’t concretely exist, or they don’t exist, as some kind of Platonic form, outside of man. Someone who dies for an ideal is, to me, just a dead idiot, because their ideal, which is necessarily subjective in character, dies with them. So, when a suicide bomber blows himself or herself up, or if a monk sets himself on fire, I’m not concerned with which side of the political fence that person sits, I’m more struck by their illogical, flawed thinking.
Ordinarily my stance does not cause me any problems. I speculate, I argue, then I go home and, I dunno, have a wank and watch TV [this is a joke, I don’t have a TV]. However, as I came to read Runaway Horses, the second volume of Yukio Mishima’s The Sea of Fertility tetralogy, I realised that my rationalist frame of mind prevented me from being able to fully engage with large parts of the book. Of course, it is not necessary to be able to identity with Iaso Iinuma, the young would-be militant-terrorist at the centre of the novel, and, in any case, even I am able to understand, even to some extent appreciate, the quixotic nature of living a life of purity and heroism, but a lot of Runaway Horses philosophically and spiritually left me cold. For example, the pamphlet of The League of the Divine Wind, which deals with a samurai rebellion/insurrection, and which appears in its entirety [60 pages, ffs], was unfathomably dry [I didn’t think it possible to make reading about the samurai so boring, but Mishima managed it – perhaps this was intentional?], and alien in its glorification of violence and ritual suicide. This kind of thing isn’t limited to the pamphlet either; there’s a lot of stuff in the book, voiced mainly by Iaso and his followers of course, about the beauty of death, or ‘sublime death,’ which at times took on almost an erotic flavour. I just cannot, no matter how hard I try, get my head around all that, nor do I really want to, because if there’s one thing I don’t think is attractive, that I will never be able to accept, it is that.
description
It is Honda’s presence that was crucial in terms of me being able to navigate the novel; without him I think I may not have persevered beyond the opening stages. If you have read Spring Snow you will know Honda as the studious and serious friend of Kiyoaki Matsugae. In that book I felt as though his role was somewhat confused; he was a rationalist, and yet unquestioningly helped his friend in his irrational endeavours. Yet even if you wanted to see him as the voice of reason – which is, I think, how Mishima saw him – he was too much of a peripheral figure. What I mean by this is that one could have cut his character entirely, and the book would have had largely the same impact. In Runaway Horses, he is a thirty eight year old judge. He is then more mature and confident, of course, and much is made, by the author, of his reserved and logical approach; therefore he is the perfect foil for Isao. Importantly, although he is largely absent from the middle section of the book, this time around he is much more central to the plot and actually raises objections when confronted with the boy’s fanaticism. For example, when Iaso loans Honda a copy of The League of the Divine Wind pamphlet the judge returns it with a letter explaining his concerns about the impact such a text could have on a young man.
“Every excitement that could send one pitching headlong is dangerous.”
“The League of the Divine Wind is a drama of tragic perfection. This was a political event that was so remarkable throughout that it almost seems to be a work of art. it was a crucible in which a purity of resolve was put to the test in a manner rarely encountered in history. But one should by no means confuse this tale of dreamlike beauty of another time with the circumstances of present-day reality.”
Moreover, not only does Honda give voice to some of your own queries and bemusement [or my bemusement anyway], but he allows one to read the book as an investigation into extremism, rather than simply as propaganda. This is hugely important. I’ve written before about how I am not at all interested in judging the private lives of authors; and that holds true here too. However, that does not mean that if the author’s private life, or dubious politics, filtered through into the work that one cannot comment or criticise; it simply means that I would not reject a work solely on the basis of any controversy surrounding the author’s behaviour. Mishima, it is always worth reiterating, was a fanatic Nationalist himself, at least towards the end of his life; and these things as subjects are dealt with in Runaway Horses. So far, so what. It becomes an issue only because there are parts of this book where violent extremism is written about in glowing terms, where Iaso and his followers are glorified:
“Izutsu showed his lovely recklessness. He spoke out gallantly, his face flushed and glowing.”
Lovely recklessness? Really? At times the language in the novel made me shift uncomfortably in my seat, although, if you were being as fair as possible, you could say it is, like with Spring Snow, merely a case of the style being in tune with the subject. Yet I don’t buy that, I’m afraid. So, Honda is vital, or was vital for me, because he shows that Mishima was prepared to question – at least in his work – Iaso’s beliefs. Without that questioning, even though Honda isn’t entirely out of sympathy for the extremists, one could have put Runaway Horses in the same category as The Birth of a Nation.
As you can tell, the book caused me quite some consternation, and my thoughts about it, as the structure of this review will no doubt attest, are far from clear. Would I recommend it? No, or certainly not to the casual reader, because it isn’t actually a very good novel. In certain circumstances, however, one might consider it worth reading. First of all, Mishima once said in an interview that Japanese culture or mentality is defined by both elegance and brutality; while I am not in a position to say whether that is entirely true I would say that certainly Mishima’s own personality was centred around that dichotomy; and so the rugged Runaway Horses, especially when paired with the graceful Spring Snow, is useful if one wants to know more about the man himself, and about how he saw the world.
Secondly, there are probably very few books that are as relevant, almost terrifyingly so, as this one is right now. Alien, baffling, and glorifying it might be, but this is a genuine glimpse into the workings of extremist/terrorist groups, and the mindset of the individuals involved, from someone who knew what he was talking about; this is not irony, it is not satire, it is the real deal. So, we see the young boy who is seduced by quixotic right-wing literature, a boy whose family-home life is a source of unhappiness or embarrassment [in what was the only time Mishima attempted to look for an excuse or explanation of Iaso’s frame of mind he mentions that he would have been aware and shamed by his mother’s less than chaste past – his interest in manly endeavours could, in this regard, be thrown into a new light]. We also see how levelling fanaticism can be; Iaso and his followers all lack personality, they are full of rhetoric and psychobabble but very few individual characteristics. If you have come across any true accounts of young men becoming enamoured with fanaticism this will be a familiar tale.
Finally, while Runaway Horses is at times fascinating, if you view the book dispassionately and adjust your expectations accordingly, it is only really enjoyable – in the conventional sense – in relation to the previous volume, Spring Snow. When one reads a multi-volume work half of the fun is in the development of certain characters as they age and have children, get married and so on. In Runaway Horses, Honda appears again, as previously mentioned, as does Iinuma, Prince Toin, and Marquis Matsugae, the father of the central character from Spring Snow, Kiyoaki. However, Iaso Iinuma is not only the son of Kiyoaki’s former tutor, he is, as far as Honda is concerned, the reincarnation of Kiyoaki himself. For a western reader, this seems like a bold, potentially ridiculous, move, and yet Mishima manages to pull it off. In fact, that Iaso was once Kiyoaki gives his character a depth he would otherwise lack, for one is able to see his passion in terms of Kiyoaki’s passion – one is for an ideal and the other was for a girl, but both are irrational, immature and destructive. Furthermore, the nature of reincarnation is that one is reborn because of mistakes, or sins, in a past life; Kiyoaki was effete and ineffectual, Iaso is the opposite; so it is almost as though the soul or essence of Kiyoaki has gone from one extreme to another. The two characters are, on the surface, completely different yet ultimately very similar; and I thought that was very clever and satisfying.
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THE SEA OF FERTILITY
Volume 1: Spring Snow https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... (less)
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P.E.
Jul 02, 2020P.E. rated it liked it · review of another edition
Shelves: characters, alien-invasion, brisk, chemins, reenchanter-le-monde, vivid-dream, japanese-literature, mind-games, tragic, manifesto
The Faithful Departed
Chevaux échappés = Runaway Horses = 奔馬
ukiyo-e of Shinpūren Rebellion (24 October 1876)
THE STORY:
1932, that is, 19 years after the events in Spring Snow took place.
This is the story of 19 y.o. Isao Iinuma, the son of Shigekuni Iinuma, Kiyoaki's former tutor, taking place in troubled times indeed — take the October Incident, in Octobre 21, 1931, led by Sakurakai secret society; the 'League of Blood' incident in March, 1932, resulting in the death of the Minister of the Finances & the leader of a party; a mutinery & failed coup in May 15, 1932...
In such dire times of political unrest, rise of militarism and concerning unemployment rates, young Isao Iinuma boils with indignation and wants the Emperor's powers to be fully restored. He can't stand Japan being run by a ring of powerful politicians, capitalists and magistrates, visibly unaffected by the surge of poverty in Japan, betraying what Isao sees as the old ways of Imperial Japan.
Reading 'The Society of the Divine Wind', an essay covering the events of the Shinpūren rebellion (1876) when former samurai rebelling against the loss of their status and the constitutional changes by newly formed Meiji government, Isao decides it is time for him to gather a secret society whose objective is to destabilize the economy and assassinate several of those zaibatsu leaders & influent people to carry out a restoration, giving back all powers to the Emperor of Japan. Only it doesn't turn out according to plan.
MY OPINION :
This second instalment of the Sea of Fertility tetralogy felt a little subpar to me when compared to Spring Snow, the first part. According to me, this is due to several underlying factors :
1) Honda's character arc felt a bit lacking, stiff and abrupt: he made nothing of personal significance since the death of his friend Kiyoaki, 19 years before, never bothering that much about Kiyoaki's last words, the meaning of his own position as a magristrat, which I find highly unlikely from a man questionning every facet of the law, history and human existence in Spring Snow.
2) Isao offered precious little surprise. There are passages where his dedication to the purity of his principles is compromised by his attachment for Makiko, others when he bluntly opposes his father & his Academy of Patriotism. If you except such passages, his personality proves monolithic to me.
More, 40 y.o. 'academician' Sawa warns him about the weakness of a faith ill-informed, ill-prepared, dealing with uncompromised, unadulterated figments of your own thinking. Honda, after reading 'The Society of the Divine Wind' openly disagrees with the principles advocated by the eponymous group, even more in 1932, half a century later. He proves impervious to such reasoning.
However, Honda's cautionary words felt immensely timely to me, in an age when statues are thrown in the river by the dozen, films rewritten and history considered as a convenience to be altered to appease irate activists:
'La Société du Vent Divin est un drame d'une perfection tragique. Ce fut une affaire politique si remarquable d'un bout à l'autre qu'on dirait presque une œuvre d'art. Ce fut un creuset où la pureté d'intention fut mise à l'épreuve d'une manière qu'on rencontre rarement dans l'histoire. Mais il ne peut être question de confondre ce conte d'autrefois, beau comme un rêve, avec ce qui constitue la réalité d'aujourd'hui.
En outre, il met l'accent avec tant d'insistance sur la pureté d'intention qu'il en sacrifie toute perspective. Ainsi, l'on perd de vue, non seulement le contexte général de l'histoire mondiale, mais aussi les nécessités historiques particulières qui conditionnaient le gouvernement Meiji que cette Société avait choisi pour ennemi. Ce qui fait défaut à ce livre, c'est le contraste. [...]
Cependant, afin de tirer profit de l'histoire, il ne faut pas se concentrer sur un chapitre isolé d'une époque donnée, mais au contraire, faire l'inventaire des multiples facteurs complexes et mutuellement contradictoires qui ont fait cette époque ce qu'elle fut. Il faut prendre le chapitre isolé et le remettre à sa place. Il faut apprécier les divers éléments qui lui ont donné un caractère particulier. [...]
Les leçons de l'histoire ne devraient jamais signifier que l'on s'attache à tel aspect particulier d'une époque particulière afin de s'en servir comme modèle pour réformer tel aspect particulier du présent. Sortir du jeu de patience du passé une pièce de telle ou telle forme, puis essayer de la caser dans le présent est une entreprise qui ne saurait aboutir à d'heureux résultats. C'est là jouer avec l'histoire, un passe-temps bon pour les enfants.'
3) As far as I can judge from the translation of a translation, Yukio Mishima's style offers formidable, otherworldly, larger-than-life images, for instance, ice creams shrieking, a huge golden thread vibrating against the eye of a colossal needle... all reminiscent of the gigantic koto in which 4 characters in Spring Snow felt they were rocked like tiny grains of sand. Unfortunately, some metaphors (pieces being moved on a chessboard, sweat trickling on someone's back,...) grow tedious when they are repeated, forced on the plot.
OTHER BOOKS & WORKS WITH SIMILAR THEMES :
Uncompromising idealists:
Demons
The Secret Agent
Dirty Hands
The Just
Hardships in Eastern Asia in the times of 1929 crisis & around 1929:
Man's Fate
Economy and the short-term and long-term effects of militarianism & inflation on it (a bit dated):
Interventionism: An Economic Analysis
Shigekuni Honda's initial situation in Runaway Horses somewhat resembles the hero of this novel by Tolstoy:
The Death of Ivan Ilych
MY SOUNDTRACK FOR THIS NOVEL:
The Land of All - Woodkid (less)
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Michael Finocchiaro
Oct 11, 2016Michael Finocchiaro rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
Shelves: japanese-lit, novels, japanese-20th-c, fiction, classics, favorites
I am an absolute fanboy to Japanese madman but genius writer Yukio Mishima. His tetralogy, the Sea of Tranquility, is a powerful piece of writing of incredible beauty. Runaway Horses is the second volume after the magnificent Spring Snow, and - as the rest of the novels - carries on the story of a few of the characters from the previous book against the historical canvas of Japan in the 30's. Not exactly optimistic, it did involve an incredible amount of research and travel for Mishima as he was writing it. An fabulous ride from a truly unique and incredible writer. (less)
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Florencia
Apr 20, 2016Florencia rated it liked it · review of another edition
Shelves: mishimaism, japanese
Blood and flowers were alike, Isao thought, in that both were quick to dry up, quick to change their substance. And precisely because of this, then, blood and flowers could go on living by taking on the substance of glory. Glory in all its form was inevitably something metallic.
When I was much younger, I had some grim thoughts involving heights. Now, I'm scared of balconies if they're not fenced off. They should be enclosed with something - wires, net, a lovely lattice pattern. It pretty much feels like a prison cell. Some prefer the word "catio" when they have a cat to take care of - it's a cell, folks. But it makes one feels safer. I can't control external factors, but my brain does anything it can to postpone death: don't put your hands on fire, use knives carefully, don’t watch reality shows, don't read Coelho again, etc.
The point of this inarticulate introduction is that I see people around me clinging to life as hard as they can and, in a moment, the persistent fascination with death turns into something that barely rises above the level of banality. I felt something similar while reading a poetry collection by Trakl - I ended up slightly bored. Lately, I don’t seem to be able to control this sense of weariness when it comes to certain topics, or the extreme version of those topics. In the end, I don't find morbidity so charming as I did in my impressionable youth.
...when one reality crumbles, another crystallizes and a new order comes into existence.
It’s not by chance that I’m reviewing this book now, before I can even think of discussing Spring Snow, the first volume of The Sea of Fertility tetralogy which involves the lives of Kiyoaki and his friend Honda, among other equally complex characters. Honestly, I didn't care much about the protagonist's story, his obsessions, the excessive patriotism I wasn't able to identify with (as I experienced while reading Patriotism) or (view spoiler). I did enjoy reading about the real Shinpūren rebellion, which inspired that fateful book of his that changed his views forever. I think I prefer the historical context to the main plot line, and Mishima really did his homework: his attention to detail is remarkable. It's rather difficult for me to separate the two first volumes of this tetralogy from the author and his bleak thoughts regarding the transformation Japan went through, the richness of its past and the tradition that linked honor with death. Perhaps I don't even need to. Nevertheless, he brings to the reader another masterful portrait of the impact of the Meiji era along with a relentless sense of nostalgia for the past - in this case, through the figure of Isao, a young man whose vanity sometimes seems to be focused on having a picturesque death whereas the message he is trying to convey becomes incidental.
It was a shame that came from the conviction that Sawa, and Sawa alone, had seen in him both the pleasure and the arrogant pride of a young man luxuriating in the sweet feeling of having made up his mind to die.
The different versions of Isao with fluctuating levels of eloquence also felt strange, especially by the end of the book. On a different note, far from politics, a kiss is what makes this runaway stallion break free of the yoke, and yet, his love story with Makiko didn't resonate with me either. Not to mention the hideous portrait of yet another female character - though that's never a surprise.
I remember reading about Mishima's own death and how it became an object of ridicule since seppuku was outdated by then. That's something that completely ruined the sense of beauty and greatness he always wanted - it's heartbreaking. That’s the image that comes to mind whenever I find these kinds of characters seeking a graceful death. Dying in one’s sleep would be ideal; simple... and cleaner.
In any case, I was more interested in knowing about Honda and his impressions. And that's where Mishima's pen stood out, demonstrating why I find it so captivating despite its fatal obsessions.
In human relationships, good and evil, trust and mistrust appear in impure form, mixed together in small portions.
Nothing is ever pure.
*
I will lower my expectations for the next volume. As Plath says, the way not to be disappointed.
Far to the south. Very hot... in the rose sunshine of a southern land...
Feb 12, 18
* Later on my blog.
** The Sea of Fertility:
Spring Snow
The Temple of Dawn
The Decay of the Angel (less)
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Chris Blocker
Mar 16, 2014Chris Blocker rated it really liked it · review of another edition
Runaway Horses, the second book in Mishima's The Sea of Fertility series, is a completely different book than the first. While Spring Snow is a poetic, tender love story, Runaway Horses is a political manifesto. Given what I know of reincarnation, the idea that one tries to correct the mistakes of their past life, this is a proper step in the path of the character known as Kiyoaki in the first novel. Kiyoaki was confused and unsure; he had very polar opinions of each person in his life—everyone had a sense of loveliness, everyone was out to get him. Isao, Kiyoaki reborn, knows what he wants—he is a revolutionary, he sees people as either good or evil, and he is determined to follow the plot he has created for himself until his final breath; yet Isao has no enjoyment for life, no flexibility—I anticipate in the third novel we'll find Isao reborn, a character who takes time to “stop and smell the roses.”
Mishima was a wonderful writer and I thoroughly enjoyed Runaway Horses. That being said, the series as a whole reminds me a little now of Tolstoy. In a massive work like War and Peace, Tolstoy took his time to tell love stories, fight battles, and express his views on history and politics. For Mishima, Spring Snow was the love story; Runaway Horses was the political rant. On its own, Runaway Horses delves too much into political discourse to keep the plot interesting, but within the series as a whole, it makes sense. In comparison to the first book, Runaway Horses is dry and somewhat flat; but as an addendum or companion to Spring Snow, it is a brilliant follow up. I look forward to the third novel in the series. (less)
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morgan
Feb 11, 2021morgan rated it it was amazing
the most phenomenal continuation of Spring Snow
undoubtedly loved it 🥰
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Inderjit Sanghera
Feb 13, 2020Inderjit Sanghera rated it really liked it
In many ways Mishima is a writer whose potential was never fully realised; like the hero of the novel, Isao, his reactionary bent and insecurities about his internalised idea of masculinity dimmed his artist genius, which in some novels, like in 'Spring Snow' which acts as the precursor to 'Runaway Horses', blazes forth beautifully like the sunrise over the ocean which Isao is desperate to glimpse as he dies, in others, as with 'Runaway Horses', the beauty flickers iridescently in between his somewhat tendentious moralising.
The story follows Honda nineteen years after the tragic end of 'Spring Snow', where his best friend Kiyokai. Honda has become the man he was destined to be as a teenager; studious, sensible and intelligent, bordering on emotionless, he is unable to fill the sense of beauty which Kiyokai brought to his life. Behind this sense of contentment lies a desire to experience something transcendent, a desire which is realised when he encounters Isao, who he realises is the reincarnation of Kiyokai.
Superficially the two cannot be any different, whereas Kiyokai's beauty was incandescent and ethereal, Isao's is forceful and violence, however the same fire blazes forth behind both their eyes and this fire lights up Honda's soul and gives him meaning. The difference in characters is echoed in the writing; although death permeated both novels, there was something inherently poetic about 'Spring Snow', whereas 'Runaway Horses' is preoccupied by violence and vituperation. Whereas both novels dealt with the gradual disintegration of traditional Japanese values and cultures beneath the relentless drive of modernity, 'Spring Snow' dealt with this subtly in contrast to the much more obvious preoccupation with this in 'Runaway Horses', which follows the murderous intent of Isao and a group of revolutionary. 'Runaway Horses' is also more grounded in reality on comparison to the surreal, dreamlike ambience of 'Spring Snow'.
Whilst 'Runaway Horses' doesn't represent the pinnacle of Mishima's novel, it continues to explore and expand on the themes which occupied Mishima such as beauty, death, masculinity and the erosion of Japanese culture. (less)
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Smiley
Mar 26, 2013Smiley rated it really liked it
Shelves: fiction, japan
In fact I enjoyed reading this fantastic novel, around ten years ago, as its second book of the tetralogy, "The Sea of Fertility". (https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...) (less)
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Nancy Oakes
Jul 13, 2019Nancy Oakes rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
Shelves: japanese-fiction, translated-fiction
if ever a novel could be labeled as a masterpiece, it is this one; I lost contact with this world while reading both this book and Spring Snow. It also resonates since part of my PhD work was focused on the use of Shinto ideology and national mythology in the rise of ultranationalist fanaticism before and during WII (and specifically war shrines), and Mishima is spot on here.
More when I finish the next two books, but seriously, five stars is a drop in the bucket for the greatness of this one. (less)
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Sagar
Apr 27, 2009Sagar rated it it was amazing
Shelves: read-in-kazakhstan, the-list, to-buy
The Sea of Fertility by Yukio Mishima
“The most complete vision we have of Japan in the twentieth century.”
-Paul Theroux
On the morning of November 25th 1970, the three-time Nobel nominee and 45 year old Yukio Mishima (the pen name of Hiraoka Kimitake) finished The Decay of the Angel, the final book in his seminal Sea of Fertility tetralogy. It was published into the world much akin to John Kennedy Tool's A Confederacy of Dunces: as renowned for its literary merit, as it was for the strange circumstances surrounding its publication.
After turning in the final draft to his editor for publication he gathered together the members of Tatenokai (the Shield Society), his private army. They stormed the Japanese Self Defense Force in Ichigaya, and after securing control of the complex Mishima delivered an impassioned speech to the troops, calling for them to throw off the shackles of Western influence and return Japan to its pure roots.
Rather than inspire a coup d’etat, the soldiers refused to listen to Mishima’s speech, jeering and mocking him instead.. After finishing, Mishima calmly retreated from the balcony. After writing 40 novels, 18 plays, 20 short story collections, over 20 collections of essays, a libretto and a film, the incredibly prolific Mishima committed ritual suicide by seppuku in the commandant's office.
Born into a samurai family in 1925, Mishima was raised to serve The Emperor in the wake of WWI while Japanese society was beginning what would become rapid Westernization. Widely considered one of the most important voices of Japanese post-war literature, the Sea of Fertility is his crowning masterpiece.
The title stems from the large, dark and basaltic plain on Earth’s Moon, called the Mare Fecunditatis (The Sea of Fecundity or Fertility). It is located at about the same place on the moon as Japan and the Sea of Japan are located on the Earth, and the lunar sea itself resembles an upside down sea of Japan. This obvious inverted allusion to dualism/pluralism is strongly resonant throughout the saga. Named maria (Latin for “seas”), they were originally mistaken by early astronomers. This obviously Western allusion further fuels the conflicted dualism of East/West that Mishima asserts as the downfall of classical Japanese culture and success.
The books are separated into time periods, covering about 60 years of Japanese 20th century history. Spring Snow looks at Japan wrestling with the integration of the Western world into Japanese culture in a post WWI climate. The story focuses on the ill-fated romance between 19 year old Kiyoaki Matsugae, his “star-crossed lover” Satoko Ayakura, and Kiyoaki’s best friend Shigekuni Honda who bears witness to the tragedy. Despite the book’s focus on Kiyoaki, Honda is the true protagonist of the tetralogy, and as begins to lose more and more of its national character, Honda follows Kiyoaki on an epic transmigration of the soul.
Runaway Horses picks up 19 years after the end of Spring Snow and Mishima at once dives into the rising political climate leading up to the second World War. Honda follows young Isao Iinuma and his rampant nationalistic spirit while slowly realizing Isao bears the soul of his long deceased friend Kiyoaki. Complete with a 100 page novel-within-a-novel, romanticized depictions of seppuku, assassination plots and the beginnings of a lengthy meditation on Buddhist transmigration of the soul, Honda narrates Japan through the increasingly polarized separation of the Japanese classes in the years before the outbreak of the war.
The most heavily outright philosophic of the four novels, The Temple of Dawn spends almost a full quarter of the book following Honda’s inquiries into Zen Buddhism, his various interpretations on transmigration vis-à-vis Theravada, and Mahayana Buddhist philosophy, Hinduism and a pilgrimage through the ancient Indian holy city of Benares.
Confusing the pattern of Kiyoaki/Isao’s rebirth, this time Honda is shocked to find the soul of his friend inhabiting the body of the beautiful Thai princess Ying-Chan (Princess Moonlight), who as a young girl, maintains the memories of her previous lives. As she matures, and eventually makes her way to Japan, however, Honda finds she demonstrates no recollection of her childhood or her previous incarnations. Mishima continues to use the backdrop of historical Japan as a dramatic set for his incredibly well crafted and complex characters. A prime example is the progression of Honda’s relationship with Ying-Chan, which begins at the onset of Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor, and continues to its dramatic conclusion in the wake of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, as the Americans occupy Japan, rapidly and forcefully Westernizing Japan overnight.
Mishima finished the tetralogy with an apocalyptic mirror exposing the modern Japanese soul with his The Decay of the Angel. Honda finally becomes a father, as he adopts the brilliant, heartless and malicious orphan Tōru Yasunaga. Tōru is the antithesis of Kiyoaki. In fact, Mishima concludes the migration of the dying angelic soul through a synthesis of his previous incarnations ending in nothingness.
The body of work, which amounts to almost 1,400 pages across the four texts, was translated by 3 different translation teams (Spring Snow and Runaway Horses were both done by the same translator) but the sheer strength and precision of Mishima’s prose transcends any variation in the mood throughout the series. His sentences are sharp, clear and bursting with life. He has a talent for creating incredibly detailed and visceral scenes to allow his characters to meander about within. Reading Mishima is an experience like no other, as his writing forces the reader to slow down and enjoy each unique sentence as a drop of poetry. From within his beautifully created universe his talent to penetrate the psyche of his characters and create such vivid and living people seems almost unparalleled in contemporary Japanese literature.
A truly momentous work of the 20th century, and one of the most intriguing depictions of Japan from one of her most passionate advocates; I can not strongly enough recommend it. As it is an investment in time, energy, constant thought and contemplation, The Sea of Fertility is a far cry from standard brain candy, but it is an investment with a high yield of return, and one that will remain with you long after the soul of Kiyoaki is put to rest. (less)
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Matthew
Mar 04, 2012Matthew rated it it was amazing · review of another edition
Shelves: favorite-fiction
If Spring Snow, the first book in this series, was the embodiment of Love and Passion in literature, Runaway Horses seems to be the embodiment of something else entirely, but maybe, markedly, it's actually the same thing. If it is, the preoccupation has shifted from a more direct romantic love, filled with all of its tragic consequences, to a more abstract love - a passion for idealism, and the youthful rebellion inherent in such a radical idealism as our protagonist, Isao Iinuma, displays.
I don ...more
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Daniel Warriner
May 09, 2021Daniel Warriner rated it really liked it
Mishima's second novel in his Sea of Fertility tetralogy is set in the early 1930s and follows Isao Iinuma, the son of Shigeyuki Iinuma, who served as a tutor for Kiyoaki Matsugae, the protagonist of Spring Snow (published serially, mid-1960s). Kiyoaki offs himself in the first book, and Honda, a childhood friend of Kiyoaki’s who plays a big part in both novels, believes Isao is the reincarnation of Kiyoaki. Both Isao and Kiyoaki are rather unpleasant characters. Kiyoaki is petulant and conniving and Isao is tragically naive.
Isao is also an idealist, nationalist, and wannabe revolutionary who vows, with a bunch of other somewhat sycophantic schoolboys, to emulate “the purity of the League of the Divine Wind, hazard ourselves for the task of purging away all evil deities and perverse spirits.” He plots a coup d’état or, as he calls it, a “Shōwa Restoration,” which seems doomed from the start. Lots of Mishima fantasizing here and perhaps for himself weighing out the merits and virtues, and folly and futility, of such an insurrection.
The narrator (omniscient third-person) tells us: “This was a plan that struck at every great capitalist family in Japan. All the zaibatsu-controlled heavy industries, iron and steel, light metals, shipbuilding—an illustrious name from each of these sectors was on the list. That morning of mass killing would, beyond any doubt, send a severe shock through the economic structure of the nation.”
OK, so there’s that, with a lot of soapy he-feels/she-feels meandering and digression (if he’d cut 200 pages out of this, it’d be more solid, cohesive.) Then there’s the idea that Japan was pure before being polluted by the outside world and outside ideas. Even Buddhism gets a bad rap by characters in this book.
I can’t remember reading a Mishima novel in which seppuku is not romanticized. But in Runaway Horses it comes up again and again as a sublime act of purification.
Narrator: “…when Isao felt a guard’s hand touch the moles on his side and squeeze them momentarily, he realized once again that he could never commit suicide out of humiliation. During his sleepless nights in the detention cell he had toyed with the thought of killing himself. But the concept of suicide remained for Isao what it had always been, something extraordinarily bright and luxurious.”
This recurring theme in Mishima novels can make reading his work difficult, considering how the author took his own life. What ended the creator interferes with the art that outlived him. I shouldn’t let his suicide interfere with his fiction, but it does.
I liked this one better than Spring Snow, which more often seems to lack direction and purpose. Runaway Horses isn’t an easy read either. The second half is stronger and more interesting and makes up for some of the long-winded time-wasting in the first half. And it’s a book that makes you want to ask the author a bunch of questions starting with Why... (less)
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Jack
Dec 09, 2019Jack rated it it was amazing
Shelves: the-five-stars, 20th-century, japan
A perfect companion to Tanizaki’s Sasameyuki in exploring, in part, the makeup of Japanese society pre-World War II.
What is remarkable about Mishima’s portrait of his would-be right wing terrorist is how accurately, and therefore unforgivingly, he dives into the contradictory nihilism of Isao’s ideology and actions...and how Mishima would mirror those actions in his own theatrical suicide. It’s odd how Mishima has his reputation as a hardcore nationalist considering how stupid nationalism seems here...only a speech, transcribed in a court-document near the climax, gives Isao any rhetorical drive, and it’s a borrowing from his favourite proto-Fascist historical novel.
Still, this book would be curiously powerful even if Mishima’s bizarre life was not reflected in it. This is much more of a “Joker movie” than that film—Mishima has a burgeoning alt-right audience, and Isao is probably strongly relatable to that crowd, though I doubt many are idealised models of youthful masculinity as he is. I was reminded a lot of The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea, another Mishima novel that covers similar themes of woman-hating boys lashing out to a contradictory adult world with passionate violence. The greater emphasis on ideology here mirrors a Mishima approaching his “natural end”.
Anyway, I’m sure if Mishima had the right to get gay-married he would never have so powerfully sublimated the erotic into the death drive in his brilliant writing, and there’d be less to read, so I’m sure that’s why Japan isn’t eager to get that legislated. Five stars. (less)
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Eugene Miya
Jun 20, 2012Eugene Miya rated it it was amazing
Yukio Mishima is a sensitive topic for those Japanese and Japanese descendents. I was only an older adolescent when he took over the Japanese Self-Defense Force facilities. Paul Schrader's film brought back some of those memories for me as an adult. So I'd embark on the Sea tetralogy. For me Runaway Horses is the best of the four volumes, but I suspect that's a cultural thing. This is lost to most English speakers. What is it with us?
When a cousin whom I'd not seen in decades came "out of the closet", he asked me if my father like his father (one of my dad's younger brothers, "Did your dad have the suicide discussion like my (his) dad?" This is "Don't embarrass the family otherwise take your life" discussion. My answer to him was yes. His life would be taken by HIV/AIDS.
Runaway Horses touches some deep nerves. I won't summarize what other reviews covered. Runaway Horses is very descriptive. The reviews lack the understanding about kendo and the refining of skill such that you reach the question whether one is as skilled with steel rather than wooden swords.
What has changed since Mishima wrote Runaway Horses and staged his final event is technology. "One person can make a difference" we are told as we grow up. One college room mate worked in high school, as I, on substantial weaponry. This was lost to most adults until the events starting with Columbine High School (what happened and what they planned). Two American teenagers kill more Americans than the Serbian armed forces in th same period. It was only with hindsight that lesser events in Springfield, OR or Paducah, KY (also high school boys). This would step up the VA Tech and most recently Norway events. Runaway Horses would not seem so implausible now. (Lost in these events and literature were also the films "If" and "Taps" {"Basketball Diaries" was cited in the Columbine case}). Does it matter if one resorts to violence for art or repression? Maybe we no longer want single people to make a difference. Have we become the judge like Honda?
Aum Shinrikyo looks even less improbable and more serious given this story. Runaway Horses will cause more pause with this kind of hind sight. We aren't done yet as a society. (less)
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Erin
Sep 25, 2007Erin rated it liked it
Second book of Mishima's Sea of Fertility tetralogy. Centered on the themes of westernization and loss of traditional society in 1930s Japan, and the resulting dissent amongst right wing, traditionalist factions. Also, disturbingly focussed on the manliness and honor of seppaku, the ritual act of suicide. Very much a foreshadowing of Mishima's own suicide in 1970, almost a script of the future event.
Although the main character, Isao, is a reincarnation of the the protagonist in Spring Snow, Kiyoaki, he's not as rich and interesting of a character. There's a single mindedness of tone in this book that's a little disconcerting and makes the story somewhat unbelievable. Perhaps also a little dry in its near constant regurgitation of Mishima's ideas on Japanese society by his characters. However, there are also some beautifully described scenes of nature and, like Spring Snow, many interesting psychological observations, which are embodied in a relatively large cast.
"Grasping the knife with his right hand, he pressed its point against his body, and guided it to the correct place with the fingertips of his left hand. Then, with a powerful thrust of his arm, he plunged the knife into his stomach. The instant that the blade tore open his flesh, the bright disk of the sun soared up and exploded behind his eyelids" (Mishima, 1973). (less)
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George
Oct 24, 2021George rated it really liked it
An interesting, engaging historical fiction novel set in 1932-33, when Japanese farmers and factory workers are going through hard times in a depressed economy. The novel is about eighteen year old Isao, who is influenced by his readings of 'The League of the Divine Wind' by T. Yamao, a small book about an uprising that occurred in 1876. Six patriots committed suicide, seppuku, in perfect fulfilment of the ritual. Isao is a fanatical believer in the ancient samurai ethos.
Isao, with other young men, aim to kill twelve important industrialists who they believed threatened the integrity of Japan, diminishing the Emperor's rightful power.
Honda, a judge, aged 38, meets Isao and believes Isao is the reincarnation of Honda's close student friend, Kiyoaki. Kiyoaki died around 18 years ago. Honda follows the development of Isao, providing Isao with advice.
The characters and intriguing plot held my interest. I look forward to the last two books in 'The Sea of Fertility' tetralogy.
This novel was first published in Japan in 1970 and first translated into English in 1973. (less)
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Raunit
Jul 01, 2019Raunit rated it it was amazing
As brilliant as Spring Snow but there are recurring elements of his previous books such as his extremely popular the sailor who fell from grace with the sea and even Confessions of a Mask (both of which are my personal favorites). Had I read these opening books of the tetralogy as his first works I am sure I would have been much more mesmerized and impressed.
The book is the most 'Mishima' book. It actually lines up with his real life to a very large extent. The mini book inside the novel 'Divine Wind' which in Japanese is Kamikaze which in itself is symbolism to so many things. The genius of the author truly shines in this book but unfortunately for me his 'purity' and contempt for Japanese state at the time didn't shock for which I was unconsciously prepared:////// (less)
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Descending Angel
Apr 02, 2016Descending Angel rated it it was amazing
Shelves: mishima, japanese
Moving away from the tragic romance of the first book and into politics but its not boring at all, it's powerful and dark. Really dark when you think about how this foreshadows Mishima's life. Has the best ending out of the four. ...more
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Michael Battaglia
Feb 07, 2013Michael Battaglia rated it it was amazing
Fanaticism can become its own kind of tragedy, transforming those we know into strangers before conspiring to take them away entirely. When the reality of it becomes personal its easy to feel the ache. It's a lot harder to cause that ache in perfect strangers, giving them a front row seat to someone's inevitable immolation. Now imagine trying to do that with the gap of a temporal and cultural context. That's what Mishima manages to accomplish here and on some levels its amazing.
Set in the years before WWII breaks out, we rearrive some nineteen years after the events of the first novel. Kiyoaki's friend Honda is now a court judge of some respect. During a trip he makes to a kendo tournament, he runs into Kiyoaki's old tutor Iinuma and his son Isao, who is quite near a kendo champion. But when he sees Isao bathing beneath a waterfall, he sees three birthmarks and remembers his doomed friend's last words to him, "I'll see you again. I know it. Beneath the falls." At which point he realizes that the boy is a reincarnation of his old friend, which is great until the boy gives him a copy of the story of the League of the Divine Wind, about a group of people who tried to assassinate people in the government, failed, and then proceeded to kill themselves. Realizing that the young Isao is very much taken up with this ideal of purity and restoring the country to its perceived glory, the book becomes a sort of race against time as Honda strives to save this new version of his friend from a youthfully tragic demise.
If the first book centered around a crystalline depiction of a star-crossed romance and sometimes seemed a little naive for it (understandable, given the point of view), this novel is far more obsessed of the notions of purity and how that can exist in a county that is being corrupted by outside forces from the inside, if that makes any sense. The whole feel is of a society trapped inside a lurching transition, being dragged across centuries without anyone really asking their permission, and not everyone is along for the ride. In a way, the themes of this book seem far closer to Mishima's heart than the first novel (especially given his actions later in life), and he takes a lot to time to delve into the ideas of purity and the nature of Japan itself, the tug between the old traditions of the emperor and the new ways of capitalism. A good chunk of the beginning of the book is devoted to the League of the Divine Wind pamphlet depicting those actions, and while it also foreshadows the remainder of the novel, it also tells you where its interests truly lies. All of the objections to it seem half-hearted, the bleating cries of people who have gotten too old to want to see real change and instead just want degrading stasis. Isao looks to that as the ideal and from the moment he gives the pamphlet to Honda, you get the sense that he's doomed as well, no matter how hard the other man will try.
But the novel really isn't written FOR Westerners and people without a basic working knowledge of Japanese histories and attitudes around that time period may be a bit lost in the beginning, because we're not given much context. Although a quick reading on the subject will give you the general gist of why people weren't happy, especially the May 15 Incident of 1932. Most of the novel follows the actions of Isao and his followers as they plot to assassinate a number of officials and then depart to heaven on a divine wind, and the matter of factness in which they plan their suicides is chilling, especially as you realize you're dealing with modes of thinking completely pivoted from that of Western cultures. And in those little actions is the tick of inevitability, Isao is so young and so fervent in his beliefs that there's only really two options, that the beliefs will transform him utterly or he will change in a manner that will make him alien to his former self. Honda wants the boy to remain in his beautiful purity and passion without sticking a knife in his gut, but from the start the two can't be reconciled. Isao is unwavering and while that makes him more monolithic than his previous incarnation, it also makes him a more fascinating character, because he blends that sense of poetry filtered through the idea of the political, albeit one that has its own brand of perfection at odds with the real world. At its most basic its the story of a boy ill-suited to live in the world that he inhabits, and so while he tries to change that world into one where he can be comfortable, if that isn't possible, he has to depart for a place where that beauty and comfort might exist.
Mishima's prose is just as beautiful this time around, even if more of it is devoted to idealistic diatribes (witness Isao's later speech to a judge about his beliefs in Japan) but he can still surprise, not only in the nature of the prose (there's one passage describing hugging someone through a kimono that is delicately perfect) but in the little configurations of the mystical and irrational that exist at the sides of the novel and inform the actions without becoming the main focus. Isao is the reincarnation of Kiyoaki (and maybe the incarnation of someone further down the line) and in those little intersections the novel takes on the frozen haze of a dream, a world where proof of reincarnation exist but still proves nothing, the echoes that exist and are only seen when you look for them, much like Japan itself, where the mystical can live alongside the modern and both beliefs can be held true simultaneously. There's a beauty in that and its telling, as hopeless as the novel can be with all its winging toward desolate inevitability (everyone's plan fail except for the corrupt, it seems) you still have that moment where Honda sees his best friend under the falls in a new body, as he predicted, and you realize that its a world where nothing is ever truly lost if you're patient enough, and you never stop looking. Which is hope in itself, and worth remembering. (less)
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Jolan Lauwers
Nov 25, 2020Jolan Lauwers rated it it was amazing
Shelves: favorites
“To know and not to act is not to know.”
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Sahil Sood
Sep 13, 2020Sahil Sood rated it it was amazing
Shelves: fiction, japan, reincarnation, samurai
Blazing with feral energy, Mishima's second installment in "The Sea of Fertility" tetralogy is fiercer, darker, and unsettling. Isao, a reincarnation of the tragic, melancholy Kiyoaki, from Mishima's first installment "Spring Snow" set in the early years of the Taishō period, is a patriot whose discontent towards the new social and economic order brought about by Westernization of Japan and its gradual decay into economic recession and widespread political corruption morphs into a violent obsession with purity, a restoration of the old Samurai ethos of the pre-Meiji era Japan where the Emperor assumed absolute power of the State. Honda, now a middle-aged judge, who follows his childhood friend Kiyoaki's reincarnation after twenty years of his death and yet again bears witness to the destructive power of heedless passion now taking over Isao, represents the rational, controlled aspect of mind and spirit. In "Runaway Horses", Mishima, through his tormented protagonist, chronicles the dying spirit of Japan, plagued by unrest and poverty, in which every attempt to reclaim its lost glory and integrity is brutally thwarted. (less)
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Stephen Durrant
Nov 16, 2020Stephen Durrant rated it really liked it
“Runaway Horses” is the second of Yukio Mishima’s “Sea of Fertility” tetralogy. The central character, Isao Iinuma, is the reincarnation of Kiyoaki Matsugae, the “hero” of the first novel in the series, “Spring Snow.” Unlike Kiyoaki, who gave his life for love, Isao gives his life for misguided nationalism. In fact, in this second novel, Mishima is clearly working out some of his own radical political views that will ultimately lead him, like his character Isao, to seppuku. Only one person, a judge named Honda, who as a youth was Kiyoaki’s best friend, realizes the truth about Isao’s identity and tries to save him. This is a novel of fanaticism, a kind of fanaticism with which the author, I believe, strongly identifies. It is both disturbing and powerful. So, what will be the next incarnation, which should take us from the late 30s in which Isao lived and died to the late 40s, in which that incarnation will live? One thing is certain, none of the successive reincarnations of this overly romantic flow of karma can possibly end well. (less)
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Tonymess
Sep 13, 2018Tonymess rated it really liked it
The extreme right wing politics almost dragged this down to a 3 star rating, however the language, the allegory & metaphor as well as the narrative hook probably puts it at 5 stars. I'll average things out. Much preferred volume one of the tetralogy so let's hope they don't slip further as we head into 3 & 4.
Not quite a Japanese Proust (as one reviewer claims) but up there in the monuments of world literature. (less)
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lucinda
Jul 01, 2021lucinda rated it liked it
“Blood and flowers were alike, Isao thought, in that both were quick to dry up, quick to change their substance. And precisely because of this, then, blood and flowers could go on living by taking on the substance of glory. Glory in all its form was inevitably something metallic.”
3.5 stars - didn't enjoy this one as much as Spring Snow, but Mishima's writing is so damn beautiful (less)
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Joselito Honestly and Brilliantly
Apr 05, 2010Joselito Honestly and Brilliantly rated it really liked it
It is easy to follow the story in this novel, but I'm afraid I did not really understand it.
Honda is a 38-year-old judge. For some reasons not revealed here (but maybe elsewhere, since this is but the second part of Yukio Mishima's 4-novel epic called The Sea of Fertility, 3 of which I haven't read), his childhood friend Kiyoaki is always in his mind. Kiyoaki died (cause of death not revealed, but hints of suicide are there) some 20 or so years ago, when both of them were barely passed their teens.
Kiyoaki's former tutor, Iinuma, has a 19-year-old son named Isao. Isao is very good in the Japanese martial art called Kendo. But he is captivated by a book called The League of the Divine Wind, the story of which goes this way: Once, the Japanese government forbade the carrying of swords which edict a band of Japanese guys considered unacceptable as it was against Japanese tradition. Organizing and calling themselves "The League of the Divine Wind" they attacked government forces using only their swords as weapons. After some initial successes they were repulsed and defeated as their swords proved to be no match to the government forces' guns. Those who didn't die or weren't captured during the battles committed seppuku (Japanese ritual suicide) alone or in groups.
Seppuku in this book The League of the Divine Wind was gory. The person stabs himself in his stomach, opens it, blood and whatever is in his stomach and intestines spill out. Then as his life ebbs away he likewise stabs his own throat. The author never fails to mention the suicide's age afterwards (many of them were just teenagers or a little above 20 years old). In some occasions a fellow member of the League would assist the other in the ritual killing, instructing the latter where to stab himself, before he himself takes his own life in the same manner. In other occasions, the League member did it at his own home, after bidding farewell to his parents/siblings and drinking one last cup of sake (Japanese wine). The parents/siblings won't do anything to prevent the suicide, acknowledging that it is a natural thing to do.
Isao is a charismatic, serious kid. Inspired by the League of the Divine Wind he organized his own group of males, about his age, with the purpose of assassinating government and business people they perceived to be corrupt and, later, regardless of the outcome, committing seppuku themselves ala-League of the Divine Wind. Asked what it is that he wishes for more than anything else, Isao said:
"Before the sun...at the top of a cliff at sunrise, while paying reverence to the sun...while looking down upon the sparkling sea, beneath a tall, noble pine...to kill myself."
Indeed, all throughout the book seppuku is pictured not only as a brave, beautiful, noble and necessary act but also an act of PURITY, with its willing victims compared to white lilies or fallen cherry blossoms. This apparently permeates Japanese thought. During world war two a lot of Japanese soldiers would kill themselves rather than surrender and perhaps fight another day. There were several instances when they would charge by the hundreds amidst a hail of machinegun fire and towards a certain death. These Japanese, they love death!
In one scene, after Iinuma betrayed his son's group (which led to their capture before they were able to accomplish their planned assasinations/seppuku), the judge Honda (who thought Isao is the reincarnation of his friend Kiyoaki) asked Iinuma:
"But, putting aside the good or evil of what had been planned (by Isao and his group), didn't you feel in any way that "
Iinuma answered he did so only to save his son's life. But Honda perceived this to be false and divined the true motive of Iinuma:
"Beyond this, Honda, who should have been offended to some degree by Iinuma's boorish display, had another reason for remaining unperturbed. For as Iinuma, having said all this, kept hastily pouring himself more to drink in this little room from which he had long since excluded the waitress, Honda was aware of a tremor in his hairy hands. And here Honda perceived a sentiment that Iinuma would never voice, something that was probably the deepest motive of his betrayal. "
To ENVY another's death? To covet death as if it is the most precious thing in this world? Towards the end of the book Isao was still able to do a seppuku, at age 20.
Yukio Mishima was a protege of another Japanese writer, Yasunari Kawabata, a Nobel Prize winner, who likewise killed himself. Mishima, during his lifetime, wrote 257 books, 33 plays, countless short stories and articles. He was also a health buff. He began body-building in 1955 and took up Kendo and Karate. By 1968 he was already a Kendo master of the 5th rank.
On 25 November 1970, after writing the last word of the last book of The Sea of Fertility, and at the heights of his fame and powers, Mishima committed seppuku. He was only 45 years old. (less)
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