Kokoro

#744. Kokoro by Natsume Soseki, translated by Edwin McClellan.  Apparently an important book in Japanese literary history.

But man, I really don't like Sensei.  The entire time, all he does is wallow in self pity and act all high and mighty about his "experiences" when he's the worst of them all.  On top of his inability to grow a pair EVER,  he kept subtly talking down on women as inferior beings (I know, I know, it's a reflection of the times) when he was the most cowardly bitch out of anyone.  Jesus, was the world just filled with a bunch of sensitive emo types in the early 1900s, because that's what I'm getting from the recent slew of books I've been reading.  I can't deal.

I'm also starting to question whether you really can't accurately translate Japanese to English.  This translation had a cold formality that I have often found in Japanese to English books, and I really don't believe that the originals were written with that tone.  Every translation I'm speaking of has been done by white people, so though they may be fluent in the language, I wonder if it's just something that's culturally hard to understand as a secondhand speaker.  I'd like to see a translation done by a native Japanese speaker to compare.

Despite all of these things that bothered me, this shorter story kept me decently entertained.  It's weird to think how little has changed in terms of society standards ("back in my day, we worked for our money instead of having parents pay for their adult children") and human nature despite cultural differences with 101 years between.

D.H. Lawrence

Ugh. Look at this guy.  What a little prick.

Can we talk about how D.H. Lawrence has SEVEN works pn this list?  Wtf.  Does this not seem excessive, and not to mention a little biased?  Who approved this, I swear.  To make matters worse, I'm simply not a fan.  Everything he writes just sounds like a rich white guy in a parlor filled with other identical men trying really hard to string together the best words to sound the most impressive.  But, as I've signed up to this, here we go I guess.

The Fox is an unsettling little story that is heavy in symbolism in a way that makes it hard to take seriously.  On top of that, Lawrence's voice is long winded and over-explained, and it gives him little credit for being an established writer.  It feels like a first draft that didn't get much editing done, and that makes it rather disappointing.   There is a lot of finesse in being subtle about your intentions in a story, and this story definitely did not even attempt that.  Maybe it goes with the theme of following blindly with what you're told, because reading The Fox felt like I was pushed through doing something I didn't exactly want to do by a greater force.  I did, however, appreciate March's strength as a heroin, and was also interested in one of the final thoughts about the level of one's happiness remaining constant, as it is something I have faced and thought a lot about lately, growing older.  The author was 37 when this story was published though, so I guess what that tells me is that I only have more of the same to face as the years stack up.

Women in Love: What is even the point of this, and why is it so goddamn long?  Here's D.H again, talking to himself and trying to prove how smart he is to no one in particular.  At least The Fox had a plot but this one had none that I could detect, and the pointless conversations just kept going on and on and on.  I started wondering whether Lawrence thinks women are intelligent, or evil, or both, because it's sure hard to tell.  Men and women alike, his characters are extremely fickle, and yes, perhaps that is the true nature of people, but there is no way that anyone in the history of the world ever acted so ridiculously as these characters do.  Lawrence's outlook on life seems incredibly miserable.  Damn artists.  This one took me months to read because I was basically fidgeting (literally) through every chapter, struggling to go on.

Dear god, 5 more of these horrible stories.  Kill me now.