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Les dames de Kimoto
Le mont Kudo était encore voilé par les brumes matinales de ce début de printemps. La main serrée dans celle de sa grand-mère, Hana franchissait les dernières marches de pierre menant au temple Jison. Elle était coiffée avec recherche – une coiffure de mariée aux coques luisantes – et l’éclat rosé de son teint de jeune fille transparaissait sous l’austère maquillage blanc. Elle portait un kimono de cérémonie de crêpe de soie violet à très longues manches. Elle savait que sur le point d’être admise comme bru dans une nouvelle famille, elle cesserait dès lors d’appartenir à la sienne…
Hana a vingt ans et c’est le jour de son mariage, arrangé comme le veut la coutume, alors qu’elle n’a vu son fiancé qu’une seule fois. Sa grand-mère, Toyono, qui l’a élevée, incarne la tradition, immuable, ancestrale et veut que sa petite-fille la respecte. Mais on est à l’aube du XXe siècle et déjà le monde change. Hana va vite se retrouver déchirée entre le carcan des obligations familiales et sociales et ses aspirations personnelles.
Mère à son tour, elle devra affronter la génération montante en la personne de Fumio, sa fille qui, après de violents conflits, saura prendre des temps anciens et des temps nouveaux ce qu’ils ont de meilleur.
Hana a vingt ans et c’est le jour de son mariage, arrangé comme le veut la coutume, alors qu’elle n’a vu son fiancé qu’une seule fois. Sa grand-mère, Toyono, qui l’a élevée, incarne la tradition, immuable, ancestrale et veut que sa petite-fille la respecte. Mais on est à l’aube du XXe siècle et déjà le monde change. Hana va vite se retrouver déchirée entre le carcan des obligations familiales et sociales et ses aspirations personnelles.
Mère à son tour, elle devra affronter la génération montante en la personne de Fumio, sa fille qui, après de violents conflits, saura prendre des temps anciens et des temps nouveaux ce qu’ils ont de meilleur.
207 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 1, 1959
About the author
Sawako Ariyoshi
113 books84 followersBorn in Wakayama City and a graduate of Tokyo Women's Christian College, Sawako Ariyoshi spent part of her childhood in Java. A prolific novelist, she dramatises significant issues in her fiction such as the suffering of the elderly, the effects of pollution on the environment, and the effects of social and political change on Japanese domestic life and values, especially on the lives of women. Her novel The Twilight Years depicts the life of a working woman who is caring for her elderly, dying father-in-law. Among Ariyoshi's other novels is The River Ki, an insightful portrait of the lives of three rural women: a mother, daughter, and granddaughter. Her novel The Doctor's Wife, a historical novel dramatising the roles of nineteenth-century Japanese women as it chronicles the experience of a pioneer doctor with breast cancer surgery, has identified her as one of the finest postwar Japanese women writers. The Doctor's Wife (1966) is considered as her best novel. Starting in 1949, Ariyoshi studied literature and theatre at the Tokyo Women's Christian College until she graduated in 1952. In 1959 she spent a year at the Sarah Lawrence College in New York. She then worked with a publishing company and also wrote for journals, joined a dance troupe, and wrote short stories and scripts for various media. She travelled extensively, getting material for her serialized novels of domestic life, mostly dealing with social issues. Recipient of a Rockefeller Foundation Fellowship in 1959, Ariyoshi had received some Japanese literary awards and was at the height of her career when she died quietly in her sleep.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 164 reviews
August 31, 2019
A multi-generational saga by a Japanese woman author. We see how modernization and Westernization changed the culture in Japan through the lives and the eyes of a great-grandmother to her great grand-daughter. We go from a very traditional, old-fashioned woman to a thoroughly modern woman in that woman’s grand-daughter. The grand-daughter spurns traditions. Then we see a kind of full-circle return in the great-grand-daughter who appreciates some of the old traditions like tea ceremonies and wearing kimonos.
The oldest woman of the first generation not only accepts but appreciates the benefits of an arranged marriage in the early 1900’s. On the other hand, her daughter spurns old-fashioned customs, dress and hairstyles. And she is certainly going to pick out her own marriage partner, much to the shock of her mother. The woman’s husband of the older generation is so obsessed with having a boy that he pays no attention to his daughter, not even caring what her name will be. He gets his comeuppance when he eventually has two sons and both are low-energy, low-achievers, even disappointing to their mother.
So, much of the story focuses on Hana, the daughter of the elderly matriarch. Not only was her marriage arranged, but in the new household she must be subservient to her mother-in-law. In addition her brother-in-law is hostile to her, not even lending her books. This is a mystery to her until her husband tells her one day that his brother has been in love with her for two years and that is the brother-in-law’s way of dealing with the issue.
Her brother-in-law is a rebel in his own right, refusing to establish a second family as a traditional second-son should do (since he has no estate). In addition, he marries his maid, a great transgression for an established family of high social status.
The story goes forward against a background of earthquakes, wars, depressions, famines, floods. The well-established family ends up bartering family heirlooms for food after World War II.
As World War II progresses and bombings start, for safety, her grandchildren come to live with Hana and she finds that her granddaughter loves some of the traditional ways such as tea ceremonies and kimonos that her own daughter has spurned.
I very much enjoyed the story and thought it was a good read. It moved along and kept my attention all the way through.
Photo of tea ceremony objects from tsunagujapan.com
Photo of the author (1931 - 1984) from babelio.com
The oldest woman of the first generation not only accepts but appreciates the benefits of an arranged marriage in the early 1900’s. On the other hand, her daughter spurns old-fashioned customs, dress and hairstyles. And she is certainly going to pick out her own marriage partner, much to the shock of her mother. The woman’s husband of the older generation is so obsessed with having a boy that he pays no attention to his daughter, not even caring what her name will be. He gets his comeuppance when he eventually has two sons and both are low-energy, low-achievers, even disappointing to their mother.
So, much of the story focuses on Hana, the daughter of the elderly matriarch. Not only was her marriage arranged, but in the new household she must be subservient to her mother-in-law. In addition her brother-in-law is hostile to her, not even lending her books. This is a mystery to her until her husband tells her one day that his brother has been in love with her for two years and that is the brother-in-law’s way of dealing with the issue.
Her brother-in-law is a rebel in his own right, refusing to establish a second family as a traditional second-son should do (since he has no estate). In addition, he marries his maid, a great transgression for an established family of high social status.
The story goes forward against a background of earthquakes, wars, depressions, famines, floods. The well-established family ends up bartering family heirlooms for food after World War II.
As World War II progresses and bombings start, for safety, her grandchildren come to live with Hana and she finds that her granddaughter loves some of the traditional ways such as tea ceremonies and kimonos that her own daughter has spurned.
I very much enjoyed the story and thought it was a good read. It moved along and kept my attention all the way through.
Photo of tea ceremony objects from tsunagujapan.com
Photo of the author (1931 - 1984) from babelio.com
August 24, 2011
I used to have this friend who was a writer. He was unique among my (all past) other writerly friends in that he didn't persistently offer for me to read his writings (I never minded the reading. It was the pressure for enthusiastic feedback that made me feel tired beyond my years). He was not unique in that he bragged, constantly, about his works. The one that was brought up the most was about five generations of women. I heard about the progress of the brilliant five generations of women story for years (sometimes it was a novel, sometimes it was a screenplay) and never saw a word of it. I don't know why but the most reaction I ever had was an "Oh." (An old woman "Oh" from one has formed the words so many times her lips creak. It is world weary to want to feel stuff all of the time.) I began to feel like it was a joke that I wasn't getting. Is it a cliche to write about generations of women? It could be but the three generations of women (it is really four. It was wrong to discount Toyono! I kinda love her. What about her mom?! I bet she had one) in The River Ki made me smile a smile of effort in a natural way. Something that looked a lot like laugh lines after a full life (maybe too full of what I could do without, sometimes. Such is life). It is wearying to want to feel something and sometimes it happens after a lot of walking.
I've been reading so many Japanese novelists these past months. The old fashioned imagery stuff appeals to me soooo much. I wish I could turn Japanese for real and feel at home in another earthiness. If the name was not already taken by sometimes member of Animal Collective I would strap on the appropriate headgear and be "Geologist". I'd taste synthetic metals for the taste of fear and rocks to see what tasted like the sweat from the rocks or from the sweat of my nervous palms. Maybe I could be Zoologist instead and wear the appropriate wild animal costumes and paint the towns all of the nature colours. I'll wear scuba gear and a bee bonnet and talk to the birds and the bees. So I could get really into the metaphors about The River Ki. It's the connectedness to something else feeling. These words about rivers (I was born by a famous river myself. The Singing River in Mississippi. My favorite childhood stories were about the legends of hearing the indians singing as they drowned. "Evil white men!") reminded me of the could be anyone else feeling (so deep right? These trees are so old and who else has walked on this earth?). I could have expanded it and cut through the earth (I really am really into nature metaphors) and said that Sawako Ariyoshi's book is a river filled with the man-made toxins of telling it too much like it is when the waters should have flowed. I would have said that when the day and day outs of their lives breathed like something like, well, breathing that one does without talking about it was the bright spots on the bottom of the river bank. Those spots are what it must have looked like a long time ago before there were oodles and oodles of generations of people to fuck it all up. (Oops, I did say that stuff about the rivers.)
"In my study of English literature, I came across the words of T.S. Eliot, who said that "tradition" should be positively discouraged. I cannot describe tradition as he describes it. According to Eliot, traition negates all that preceded it and will be negated by all that follows. And yet I feel I know what he means when I think of the bond between you and me. The "family" that has flowed from you to Mother to me.
Please don't laugh at me. One day I shall marry and have a daughter. It amuses me to imagine how my daughter will rebel against me and regard her grandmother with affection. And then, I shall think that, just as people lived in the distant past and will continue to exist in the years to come, however difficult the present may be for me, I must live for tomorrow.
Now I know why I feel nostalgic about Wakayama. I could not have made this discovery or experienced this peace of mind and happiness if I had never been close to you."
I loved that letter and this book a little (ahem a lot) more because of it.
The third generation Hanako wrote this letter to her grandmother, Hana. Hana's daughter Fumio despised her mother for what she viewed as submissiveness and too keen an interest in the past ways of Japan. Hana would die in the Japan changed in WWII. I wish that Ariyoshi had not explained in words that Fumio despised her mother, that Hana believed a woman should act from a man's shadow. i lived with them when Hana listened to her husband's breathing at night. How she matched her own rhythms with those of her family said more to me about her riverliness than that could have. Being told and believing it aren't the same things. My name is Mariel Cathleen (thanks, Mom!) and that means I can be an MC too. It saved me when Hana felt close to her granddaughter by walking the same earth together. I get it now! This is what generations are all about. Taking on the name of a new family in marriage and giving her daughter a name like Fumio is MC like a rapper with samples from an '80s hits cassette. Hana's day to days were less backbeat and more uncredited hook from David Bowie and Queen teamed up to be Under Pressure. I love the book but can my animal costume please come without footy pajamas? We want to walk further than that.
But I loved Toyono loving Hana and Hana loving Hanaka. That's what Roger was talking about in 101 Dalmatians when he said "Melody first, my dear, then the lyrics." That's how days are made.
I've been reading so many Japanese novelists these past months. The old fashioned imagery stuff appeals to me soooo much. I wish I could turn Japanese for real and feel at home in another earthiness. If the name was not already taken by sometimes member of Animal Collective I would strap on the appropriate headgear and be "Geologist". I'd taste synthetic metals for the taste of fear and rocks to see what tasted like the sweat from the rocks or from the sweat of my nervous palms. Maybe I could be Zoologist instead and wear the appropriate wild animal costumes and paint the towns all of the nature colours. I'll wear scuba gear and a bee bonnet and talk to the birds and the bees. So I could get really into the metaphors about The River Ki. It's the connectedness to something else feeling. These words about rivers (I was born by a famous river myself. The Singing River in Mississippi. My favorite childhood stories were about the legends of hearing the indians singing as they drowned. "Evil white men!") reminded me of the could be anyone else feeling (so deep right? These trees are so old and who else has walked on this earth?). I could have expanded it and cut through the earth (I really am really into nature metaphors) and said that Sawako Ariyoshi's book is a river filled with the man-made toxins of telling it too much like it is when the waters should have flowed. I would have said that when the day and day outs of their lives breathed like something like, well, breathing that one does without talking about it was the bright spots on the bottom of the river bank. Those spots are what it must have looked like a long time ago before there were oodles and oodles of generations of people to fuck it all up. (Oops, I did say that stuff about the rivers.)
"In my study of English literature, I came across the words of T.S. Eliot, who said that "tradition" should be positively discouraged. I cannot describe tradition as he describes it. According to Eliot, traition negates all that preceded it and will be negated by all that follows. And yet I feel I know what he means when I think of the bond between you and me. The "family" that has flowed from you to Mother to me.
Please don't laugh at me. One day I shall marry and have a daughter. It amuses me to imagine how my daughter will rebel against me and regard her grandmother with affection. And then, I shall think that, just as people lived in the distant past and will continue to exist in the years to come, however difficult the present may be for me, I must live for tomorrow.
Now I know why I feel nostalgic about Wakayama. I could not have made this discovery or experienced this peace of mind and happiness if I had never been close to you."
I loved that letter and this book a little (ahem a lot) more because of it.
The third generation Hanako wrote this letter to her grandmother, Hana. Hana's daughter Fumio despised her mother for what she viewed as submissiveness and too keen an interest in the past ways of Japan. Hana would die in the Japan changed in WWII. I wish that Ariyoshi had not explained in words that Fumio despised her mother, that Hana believed a woman should act from a man's shadow. i lived with them when Hana listened to her husband's breathing at night. How she matched her own rhythms with those of her family said more to me about her riverliness than that could have. Being told and believing it aren't the same things. My name is Mariel Cathleen (thanks, Mom!) and that means I can be an MC too. It saved me when Hana felt close to her granddaughter by walking the same earth together. I get it now! This is what generations are all about. Taking on the name of a new family in marriage and giving her daughter a name like Fumio is MC like a rapper with samples from an '80s hits cassette. Hana's day to days were less backbeat and more uncredited hook from David Bowie and Queen teamed up to be Under Pressure. I love the book but can my animal costume please come without footy pajamas? We want to walk further than that.
But I loved Toyono loving Hana and Hana loving Hanaka. That's what Roger was talking about in 101 Dalmatians when he said "Melody first, my dear, then the lyrics." That's how days are made.
March 14, 2023
Coup de coeur, coup de coeur, coup de coeur. ❤
Prefectura de Wakayama, finales del siglo XIX. Hana, acompañada por un fastuoso cortejo y con el recuerdo de su querida abuela Toyono, desciende el curso del rio Ki para reunirse con su futuro esposo, Keisaku. Moldeada por las costumbres ancestrales heredadas de sus antecesoras, Hana debe acomodarse a su nueva vida e integrarse en el seno de su recién estrenada familia; contando con la hostilidad de su cuñado Kosaku y la cada vez mayor indiferencia de su marido.
Pasan los años, y con ellos llegan los hijos; en especial Fumio, la primera hija de Hana. Una chica rebelde que no duda en enfrentarse a su madre y a las tradiciones que confinan a la mujer a la esfera doméstica. Fuerte y segura de sí misma, Fumio marcha a Tokyo para formarse en la universidad y, poco a poco, va adoptando las costumbres occidentales. Será su hija Hanako, sensible, observadora y muy unida a su abuela, quien acabe uniendo a las tres generaciones de mujeres.
Lo presentí desde las primeras páginas y no me equivoqué. He adorado cada instante de este libro. Toyono, Hana, Fumio y Hanako. Cuatro generaciones de mujeres y una única constante en sus vidas: el fluir de las aguas del rio Ki, que las ha visto nacer, crecer y convertirse en esposas, madres y abuelas.
Casi sesenta años de la historia de Japón quedan fijadas entre las páginas de 'Las damas de Kimoto': el fin de la era Meiji, la guerra sino-japonesa, la IIGM y su estela devastadora... Grandes acontecimientos que van dejando huella en la vida cotidiana de estas cuatro mujeres, divididas entre tradición y modernidad.
Nunca olvidaré el koto de Hana, ni los objetos familiares del trastero; la imagen de abuela y nieta contemplando los cerezos desde el castillo de Wakayama; los kakis de Toyono floreciendo cada año en el jardín de Hana, Fumio y su ofrenda en el templo de Jison...
Momentos llenos de delicadeza, sutiles y silenciosos, pero cargados de significado.
Un libro maravilloso.
Prefectura de Wakayama, finales del siglo XIX. Hana, acompañada por un fastuoso cortejo y con el recuerdo de su querida abuela Toyono, desciende el curso del rio Ki para reunirse con su futuro esposo, Keisaku. Moldeada por las costumbres ancestrales heredadas de sus antecesoras, Hana debe acomodarse a su nueva vida e integrarse en el seno de su recién estrenada familia; contando con la hostilidad de su cuñado Kosaku y la cada vez mayor indiferencia de su marido.
Pasan los años, y con ellos llegan los hijos; en especial Fumio, la primera hija de Hana. Una chica rebelde que no duda en enfrentarse a su madre y a las tradiciones que confinan a la mujer a la esfera doméstica. Fuerte y segura de sí misma, Fumio marcha a Tokyo para formarse en la universidad y, poco a poco, va adoptando las costumbres occidentales. Será su hija Hanako, sensible, observadora y muy unida a su abuela, quien acabe uniendo a las tres generaciones de mujeres.
Lo presentí desde las primeras páginas y no me equivoqué. He adorado cada instante de este libro. Toyono, Hana, Fumio y Hanako. Cuatro generaciones de mujeres y una única constante en sus vidas: el fluir de las aguas del rio Ki, que las ha visto nacer, crecer y convertirse en esposas, madres y abuelas.
Casi sesenta años de la historia de Japón quedan fijadas entre las páginas de 'Las damas de Kimoto': el fin de la era Meiji, la guerra sino-japonesa, la IIGM y su estela devastadora... Grandes acontecimientos que van dejando huella en la vida cotidiana de estas cuatro mujeres, divididas entre tradición y modernidad.
Nunca olvidaré el koto de Hana, ni los objetos familiares del trastero; la imagen de abuela y nieta contemplando los cerezos desde el castillo de Wakayama; los kakis de Toyono floreciendo cada año en el jardín de Hana, Fumio y su ofrenda en el templo de Jison...
Momentos llenos de delicadeza, sutiles y silenciosos, pero cargados de significado.
Un libro maravilloso.
April 3, 2017
When I first finished the book, I was thinking I'd rate it three stars. But after living with it for a few days, thinking about Hana, the story of her family, the picture it painted of Japan over some turbulent years, I had to raise it to four stars.
It had a lot of meaning to me in what it revealed of life in Japan during the course of Hana's life, a glimpse at what life would have been like for my family just a few generations ago. As a woman - a modern woman - parts of it were a little hard to take, as it was difficult to put myself into that time period, to imagine living like that, thinking like that, being like that. But we're all a product of our environment and upbringing - if I had lived back then, I'd be much closer to Hana than I am, just as if she'd lived a life like mine, she'd probably be a lot closer to me.
Discomfort like that aside, Ariyoshi does a wonderful job painting the picture of Japanese life, doing so in broad strokes and scattered details that work together to illustrate her work without bogging it down in endless minutia.
I thought it was particularly interesting how Hana's goals and ideals remained a constant (or changed only slowly and gradually), while Fumio, the liberal daughter, blew with the wind. Their dynamic was one of the most compelling aspects of the book, a thread binding history to modernity, the idea of conflict between parents and their children that plays out in every generation.
On a side note, no matter how many times I read about it, I just can't understand the tooth-blackening thing. I know, it was a different time, and I've even read it helped prevent cavities, but still. Whoever thought that was attractive? Yuck!
I found myself wishing the book was longer. I wanted to know more about Hana's life, about her family. But every question Ariyoshi answered would have just raised three more questions. In the end, we know all we need to know.
It had a lot of meaning to me in what it revealed of life in Japan during the course of Hana's life, a glimpse at what life would have been like for my family just a few generations ago. As a woman - a modern woman - parts of it were a little hard to take, as it was difficult to put myself into that time period, to imagine living like that, thinking like that, being like that. But we're all a product of our environment and upbringing - if I had lived back then, I'd be much closer to Hana than I am, just as if she'd lived a life like mine, she'd probably be a lot closer to me.
Discomfort like that aside, Ariyoshi does a wonderful job painting the picture of Japanese life, doing so in broad strokes and scattered details that work together to illustrate her work without bogging it down in endless minutia.
I thought it was particularly interesting how Hana's goals and ideals remained a constant (or changed only slowly and gradually), while Fumio, the liberal daughter, blew with the wind. Their dynamic was one of the most compelling aspects of the book, a thread binding history to modernity, the idea of conflict between parents and their children that plays out in every generation.
On a side note, no matter how many times I read about it, I just can't understand the tooth-blackening thing. I know, it was a different time, and I've even read it helped prevent cavities, but still. Whoever thought that was attractive? Yuck!
I found myself wishing the book was longer. I wanted to know more about Hana's life, about her family. But every question Ariyoshi answered would have just raised three more questions. In the end, we know all we need to know.
December 4, 2024
A fost o lectură interesantă, mai întâi am detestat cartea asta, apoi am devenit nepăsătoare față de ea ca la final să ajung la niște reflecții individuale care să mă pună pe gânduri...
O carte nu este o avalanșă, ci trebuie să curgă lin, ca răul Ki în jurul căruia se centrează întreaga acțiune a personajelor din Răul destinelor.
Am trecut prin mai multe anotimpuri cu cartea asta, prin trei generații de femei diferite.
Cel mai tare am îndrăgit-o pe Fumio, varianta rebelă și feminista a mea, chiar dacă era puțin mai dezordonata decât mine, viitorul ei de critic literar al revistelor japoneze de la începutul secolului XX, mi-a surâs, m-am regăsit.
Nu mi-a plăcut la cartea asta faptul că la un moment dat evenimentele se derulează prea repede, parcă într-o grabă nefirească, ordinea e străbătută de nimicuri, deși răul Ki curge la fel de domol, urmat parcă de o traiectorie potolita.
O carte nu este o avalanșă, ci trebuie să curgă lin, ca răul Ki în jurul căruia se centrează întreaga acțiune a personajelor din Răul destinelor.
Am trecut prin mai multe anotimpuri cu cartea asta, prin trei generații de femei diferite.
Cel mai tare am îndrăgit-o pe Fumio, varianta rebelă și feminista a mea, chiar dacă era puțin mai dezordonata decât mine, viitorul ei de critic literar al revistelor japoneze de la începutul secolului XX, mi-a surâs, m-am regăsit.
Nu mi-a plăcut la cartea asta faptul că la un moment dat evenimentele se derulează prea repede, parcă într-o grabă nefirească, ordinea e străbătută de nimicuri, deși răul Ki curge la fel de domol, urmat parcă de o traiectorie potolita.
February 18, 2017
Ariyoshi tells the story of 20th century Japan through the lives of several generations of women. The style feels more biographical than novelistic, as she transcribes generational turnover, mainly through the character Hana. It starts off beautifully with a traditional wedding ceremony along the River Ki, of a kind that no longer exists, and brings us straight through to the destruction of Japan due to war. The main theme is about how traditional-minded women are the ones who keep society together, even after everything they once knew has been destroyed.
Through marital infidelity, filial disobedience, and loss of status, we see how Hana maintains her dignity. Unshakeable faith in an individual is extremely hard to convey in a novel if that character isn’t constantly making pronouncements on it. Hana doesn’t. And so Ariyoshi’s challenge is great. Few of us today would endure what Hana endures without at least looking for someone else to blame. Hana doesn’t do that either. Nor does she blame herself.
It wasn’t until late into the novel that I understood this, when I realized Ariyoshi, through her accumulation of detail, was trying to convey what faith in its particular, female, Japanese form feels like. It is mysterious because there’s nothing textual about it, no deed finds its word, a consequence, partially, of a culture that lacks scripture outside the arts.
I was surprised, and then pleased, to find Ariyoshi setting off Hana against her women’s rights loving daughter Fumio, on those grounds. Is Hana hopelessly conservative? Fumio is appalled at her mother’s long-suffering ways. When it comes to style Fumio prefers Hollywood over Kyoto. Watching her mother blacken the teeth of her grandmother disgusts her, a beautifying ritual since gone out of fashion. Hana forces her daughter to learn the koto, an instrument that teaches grace of style, and Fumio, whether stubbornly or simply untalented, cannot even play the simplest melody (let alone add any grace notes to what she’s playing). Not surprisingly, when the war effort comes, Fumio’s convictions prove superficial, as she falls for one form of propaganda over another:
“Fumio had once been a staunch liberal. However, with the outbreak of war she had been completely transformed into a brave woman supporting fully the Japanese cause. But Eiji (her husband) spent many years abroad and was very pessimistic about the war.” (p.201)
There wasn’t anything especially “brave” in following to order the war mobilization of the Japanese government in the 1930s; it takes some digging, then, to appreciate Ariyoshi’s meaning in passages like these. Hana’s “women’s rights”, on the other hand, is the kind not subject to government initiative (the kind that branches out into popular culture through movies, music or blogs or what have you), but originates more in a quality of soul, that place where dignity forms, and perhaps is only truly noticeable through the grace of our grandmothers, even though that quality had been there all along. Some may not find this particularly inspiring, but if you can recognize the faith, then you’ll be moved by the end of this novel.
Through marital infidelity, filial disobedience, and loss of status, we see how Hana maintains her dignity. Unshakeable faith in an individual is extremely hard to convey in a novel if that character isn’t constantly making pronouncements on it. Hana doesn’t. And so Ariyoshi’s challenge is great. Few of us today would endure what Hana endures without at least looking for someone else to blame. Hana doesn’t do that either. Nor does she blame herself.
It wasn’t until late into the novel that I understood this, when I realized Ariyoshi, through her accumulation of detail, was trying to convey what faith in its particular, female, Japanese form feels like. It is mysterious because there’s nothing textual about it, no deed finds its word, a consequence, partially, of a culture that lacks scripture outside the arts.
I was surprised, and then pleased, to find Ariyoshi setting off Hana against her women’s rights loving daughter Fumio, on those grounds. Is Hana hopelessly conservative? Fumio is appalled at her mother’s long-suffering ways. When it comes to style Fumio prefers Hollywood over Kyoto. Watching her mother blacken the teeth of her grandmother disgusts her, a beautifying ritual since gone out of fashion. Hana forces her daughter to learn the koto, an instrument that teaches grace of style, and Fumio, whether stubbornly or simply untalented, cannot even play the simplest melody (let alone add any grace notes to what she’s playing). Not surprisingly, when the war effort comes, Fumio’s convictions prove superficial, as she falls for one form of propaganda over another:
“Fumio had once been a staunch liberal. However, with the outbreak of war she had been completely transformed into a brave woman supporting fully the Japanese cause. But Eiji (her husband) spent many years abroad and was very pessimistic about the war.” (p.201)
There wasn’t anything especially “brave” in following to order the war mobilization of the Japanese government in the 1930s; it takes some digging, then, to appreciate Ariyoshi’s meaning in passages like these. Hana’s “women’s rights”, on the other hand, is the kind not subject to government initiative (the kind that branches out into popular culture through movies, music or blogs or what have you), but originates more in a quality of soul, that place where dignity forms, and perhaps is only truly noticeable through the grace of our grandmothers, even though that quality had been there all along. Some may not find this particularly inspiring, but if you can recognize the faith, then you’ll be moved by the end of this novel.
March 22, 2023
Esta es una obra que no deja indiferente. Lo leí y comenté con unas amigas y nos ha gustado tanto como ganas nos ha dado de saber más sobre la historia de Japón entre los siglos XIX y XX, o las eras Meiji, Taishō y Shōwa (entre 1868 y 1989) especialmente desde la perspectiva femenina.
Porque la perspectiva femenina de la historia social, más que política (que también) de Japón, es lo que nos dan las damas de esta línea familiar que comienza con la anciana Toyono y su nieta Hana, continúa con la hija de esta Fumio, quien a su vez es la madre de Hanako. Aunque el libro pueda asemejarse en cierto modo a las “Hermanas Makioka” de Tanizaki Junichirō, lo cierto es que el enfoque es completamente diferente, pues en ese libro se hablaba de un momento concreto y una costumbre concreta (el Miai o concertación de matrimonios). Pero tienen en común ambos libros las diferentes relaciones entre mujeres de una misma familia. Sin embargo la figura central es Hana, que es la única que está viva todo el libro, tanto con su abuela como con los sucesivos nacimientos de su hija y de su propia nieta. Todos los demás personajes son irrelevantes salvo dos: el marido de Hana y el de Fumio, aunque su importancia en ambos casos es meramente circunstancial.
La importancia que tiene el marido de Hana, cuyo nombre he olvidado pero no importa, es que tiene una carrera política. Dejando eso a un lado por un momento, Hana es una mujer que viene de una familia de posición elevada y ha sido educada por Toyono como una mujer dócil, que preserva las costumbres y usos tradicionales tanto de Japón como de la pequeña región donde viven. Sin embargo, la dulce Hana no debe engañaros con su carácter apacible: es una mujer de suma elegancia, vivaz, muy inteligente y muy buena estratega y ahí es donde entra el marido: es Hana quien le aconseja cada vez que tiene una duda con respecto a su gobierno y a su gente. En resumen, sin Hana, este señor no hubiera llegado ni a presidente de la comunidad de vecinos.
Fumio nace con todos los privilegios y lo tiene todo para ser feliz, sin embargo una rebeldía mal entendida y peor tratada, la convierte en una mujer egoísta, egocéntrica e intratable. Rechaza a su madre porque simboliza la tradición y el antiguo Japón, pero sin embargo, aunque dice querer ser independiente y feminista, acaba casándose y acompañando a su marido al extranjero. El rechazo y desprecio a su madre llega a ser de una falta de respeto bastante desagradable.
Con Fumio y Hana se enfrentan el progresismo exaltado y las influencias del exterior (Fumio) con la mentalidad conservadora, aunque liberal, tradicional y el carácter tranquilo (Hana). Ariyoshi nos da las dos perspectivas antes de adentrarse, gracias al nacimiento de Hana, en la historia de mediados del s. XX: el ultranacionalismo, las relaciones con los países extranjeros, el ambiente enrarecido, la militarización y, por último, la guerra.
Una historia, la de Hana especialmente, conmovedora y preciosa. Escrita con esa sensibilidad tan característica de los autores japoneses, a ratos emotiva, a ratos llena de rabia, pero siempre provocando uno u otro sentimiento en el lector. Imprescindible.
Porque la perspectiva femenina de la historia social, más que política (que también) de Japón, es lo que nos dan las damas de esta línea familiar que comienza con la anciana Toyono y su nieta Hana, continúa con la hija de esta Fumio, quien a su vez es la madre de Hanako. Aunque el libro pueda asemejarse en cierto modo a las “Hermanas Makioka” de Tanizaki Junichirō, lo cierto es que el enfoque es completamente diferente, pues en ese libro se hablaba de un momento concreto y una costumbre concreta (el Miai o concertación de matrimonios). Pero tienen en común ambos libros las diferentes relaciones entre mujeres de una misma familia. Sin embargo la figura central es Hana, que es la única que está viva todo el libro, tanto con su abuela como con los sucesivos nacimientos de su hija y de su propia nieta. Todos los demás personajes son irrelevantes salvo dos: el marido de Hana y el de Fumio, aunque su importancia en ambos casos es meramente circunstancial.
La importancia que tiene el marido de Hana, cuyo nombre he olvidado pero no importa, es que tiene una carrera política. Dejando eso a un lado por un momento, Hana es una mujer que viene de una familia de posición elevada y ha sido educada por Toyono como una mujer dócil, que preserva las costumbres y usos tradicionales tanto de Japón como de la pequeña región donde viven. Sin embargo, la dulce Hana no debe engañaros con su carácter apacible: es una mujer de suma elegancia, vivaz, muy inteligente y muy buena estratega y ahí es donde entra el marido: es Hana quien le aconseja cada vez que tiene una duda con respecto a su gobierno y a su gente. En resumen, sin Hana, este señor no hubiera llegado ni a presidente de la comunidad de vecinos.
Fumio nace con todos los privilegios y lo tiene todo para ser feliz, sin embargo una rebeldía mal entendida y peor tratada, la convierte en una mujer egoísta, egocéntrica e intratable. Rechaza a su madre porque simboliza la tradición y el antiguo Japón, pero sin embargo, aunque dice querer ser independiente y feminista, acaba casándose y acompañando a su marido al extranjero. El rechazo y desprecio a su madre llega a ser de una falta de respeto bastante desagradable.
Con Fumio y Hana se enfrentan el progresismo exaltado y las influencias del exterior (Fumio) con la mentalidad conservadora, aunque liberal, tradicional y el carácter tranquilo (Hana). Ariyoshi nos da las dos perspectivas antes de adentrarse, gracias al nacimiento de Hana, en la historia de mediados del s. XX: el ultranacionalismo, las relaciones con los países extranjeros, el ambiente enrarecido, la militarización y, por último, la guerra.
Una historia, la de Hana especialmente, conmovedora y preciosa. Escrita con esa sensibilidad tan característica de los autores japoneses, a ratos emotiva, a ratos llena de rabia, pero siempre provocando uno u otro sentimiento en el lector. Imprescindible.
August 16, 2017
I read this one much earlier in the year, and apparently never posted a review of it. Oops. Time to correct that.
The River Ki is something I don’t see often, but I always like in theory. It’s a multigenerational spanning novel. I love the idea of getting a story from a single family as the youngest members of the family at the start become the oldest by the end. It’s an intriguing way to tell a tale, especially if you are dealing with time periods of great change. Well, this is Japan Pre-WWII and ends afterwards, so social change is a big theme throughout the novel.
The book starts with a woman named Hana on her wedding day, we will follow her life, and that of her daughter and finally a grand daughter. See a wealthy and well respected family adjust to the times and see how their lifestyle and perspective changes with Japan becoming more modern. The book operates as a fascinating time capsule.
I’ll first start by saying that I completely understand some of the mixed feelings I’m seeing on here, interestingly I ran the full gambit of reactions myself. Starting off, the wedding and the events leading up to it were so slow that I found myself getting irritated. I’m usually okay with slow starts, but I just found it to drag and was initially very concerned about even making it through the entire novel. Much to my delight, and surprise, I found myself engrossed after this section was over.
Now, while I may have been engrossed, I still had some issues with the book as a whole. I found the transitions to be very awkward, the pacing was way too fast (rather humorous and contrasting given my views of the wedding scene… It’s like the author got so caught up in that scene, then decided to never do such a thing again) and I personally had trouble figuring out how much time passed, often even between pages sometimes, as there are time gaps of years in-between breaks quite frequently.
Another slight complaint, which is in no way the fault of the author, but rather in this case the reader, was that without an extensive knowledge of Japanese history or all social nuances I found myself rereading paragraphs trying to figure out a hidden meaning to them, and coming away with nothing but the surety that I missed something.
Now all complaints aside, I genuinely liked the book. I found the customs fascinating; the various interesting little facts (like the coin belt that was thought to protect soldiers during the war) were a delight and will stick with me. I found Hana to be an interesting character and liked seeing her philosophy when viewed with the time periods throughout the novel (her child and grandchild make for interesting contrasts, while all displaying elements of her own character, no matter how different in opinions they may be). I also really enjoyed the aspect that Hanna, while obviously our central character tying the entire story together, often felt a side character to her own novel with the beginning focusing mostly on her grandmother and the end focusing on her granddaughter. This was even more interesting to me as I felt that the second section was the one to focus on Hana the most, and it was the one to involve her daughter Fumio. Why did I find that so interesting? Because we see this section mostly from Hana, with far less scenes from Fumio’s point of view, whereas sections one and three have more views from other characters, specifically grandmother and granddaughter. I feel this is interesting as we get very little about Hana’s parents, and while a section is devoted to her daughter, she seems a side character (though a more important one) as well. The focus seems to be on greater generation gap, as if parents and children are less interesting as the gap and similarities between the generation before or after. This times in with the themes of Japanese before European influence (Hana’s grandmother) and post-WWII with American occupation (Hana’s grandchild).
This is a fairly short novel at only 243 pages, which seems strange given that with the multigenerational aspect one might expect a long saga. While I enjoyed the novel as a whole, there are some very strong pacing issues which knock it down to three stars. That said, they are a solid three stars and those with an interest in Japanese literature and a bit of modern history could do much worse than check this one out.
The River Ki is something I don’t see often, but I always like in theory. It’s a multigenerational spanning novel. I love the idea of getting a story from a single family as the youngest members of the family at the start become the oldest by the end. It’s an intriguing way to tell a tale, especially if you are dealing with time periods of great change. Well, this is Japan Pre-WWII and ends afterwards, so social change is a big theme throughout the novel.
The book starts with a woman named Hana on her wedding day, we will follow her life, and that of her daughter and finally a grand daughter. See a wealthy and well respected family adjust to the times and see how their lifestyle and perspective changes with Japan becoming more modern. The book operates as a fascinating time capsule.
I’ll first start by saying that I completely understand some of the mixed feelings I’m seeing on here, interestingly I ran the full gambit of reactions myself. Starting off, the wedding and the events leading up to it were so slow that I found myself getting irritated. I’m usually okay with slow starts, but I just found it to drag and was initially very concerned about even making it through the entire novel. Much to my delight, and surprise, I found myself engrossed after this section was over.
Now, while I may have been engrossed, I still had some issues with the book as a whole. I found the transitions to be very awkward, the pacing was way too fast (rather humorous and contrasting given my views of the wedding scene… It’s like the author got so caught up in that scene, then decided to never do such a thing again) and I personally had trouble figuring out how much time passed, often even between pages sometimes, as there are time gaps of years in-between breaks quite frequently.
Another slight complaint, which is in no way the fault of the author, but rather in this case the reader, was that without an extensive knowledge of Japanese history or all social nuances I found myself rereading paragraphs trying to figure out a hidden meaning to them, and coming away with nothing but the surety that I missed something.
Now all complaints aside, I genuinely liked the book. I found the customs fascinating; the various interesting little facts (like the coin belt that was thought to protect soldiers during the war) were a delight and will stick with me. I found Hana to be an interesting character and liked seeing her philosophy when viewed with the time periods throughout the novel (her child and grandchild make for interesting contrasts, while all displaying elements of her own character, no matter how different in opinions they may be). I also really enjoyed the aspect that Hanna, while obviously our central character tying the entire story together, often felt a side character to her own novel with the beginning focusing mostly on her grandmother and the end focusing on her granddaughter. This was even more interesting to me as I felt that the second section was the one to focus on Hana the most, and it was the one to involve her daughter Fumio. Why did I find that so interesting? Because we see this section mostly from Hana, with far less scenes from Fumio’s point of view, whereas sections one and three have more views from other characters, specifically grandmother and granddaughter. I feel this is interesting as we get very little about Hana’s parents, and while a section is devoted to her daughter, she seems a side character (though a more important one) as well. The focus seems to be on greater generation gap, as if parents and children are less interesting as the gap and similarities between the generation before or after. This times in with the themes of Japanese before European influence (Hana’s grandmother) and post-WWII with American occupation (Hana’s grandchild).
This is a fairly short novel at only 243 pages, which seems strange given that with the multigenerational aspect one might expect a long saga. While I enjoyed the novel as a whole, there are some very strong pacing issues which knock it down to three stars. That said, they are a solid three stars and those with an interest in Japanese literature and a bit of modern history could do much worse than check this one out.
June 15, 2020
I found reading Ms. Ariyoshi's The River of Ki nostalgically impressive due to its three parts depicting Hana, as a granddaughter and young bride (Part I), as a wife and mother (Part II), and as a grandmother (Part III).
There are no chapters but we can find reading this novel amazingly enjoyable, realistically narrated and finely rendered. The story starts with the two female characters of different generation named Toyono and Hana, a paternal grandmother and her granddaughter, walking to the Miroku Hall on the top of Mount Koya (Koyasan, called affectionately like Fujisan), in Wakayama Prefecture one morning in the last years of the nineteenth century, in other words, due to its vague year as mentioned, imagine one of the years as you like, probably 1898 or 1899 but of course 1900 won't do. The year 1897 is relatively possible but it's a bit early, being far from 1900, the nineteenth century mark.
While reading English texts in essays, articles, novels, etc. once in a while I would be halted due to some particular words, phrases, idioms, etc. which literally captivate me; in other words, I couldn't help admiring how they've been well expressed in that particular contexts worth taking notes on paper or in mind so that I might apply in my writing sometime. It's one of my ways of reading that keeps me going, making it worthwhile, enjoyable and applicable. Therefore, I would cite three examples taken from her texts as those notable and unique ones I've never read anywhere before.
1. A few among them, blind to Hana's ungainly figure, fell in love with her lovey face. (p. 58)
2. The grains of rice, exposed to the strong sunlight, exuded a rich smell. In the Japanese art of incense-smelling, one did not "smell" incense, one "savored" it. (p. 69)
3. The waters of River Yu, a tributary of the Ki, gurgling as they always had, flowed between the rice paddies and filled the irrigation ditches which Keisaku had suggested digging to prevent flooding. (pp. 224-25)
etc.
To continue . . .
First Review:
I have never read Sawako Ariyoshi before; however, I was interested to read her novel The River of Ki by this paragraph, realizing it deserves reading with care and appreciation:
Powerful enough to sweep away people on its banks and placid enough to carry along with its flow a sumptuous wedding procession, the River Ki dominates the lives of the people who live in its fertile valley and imparts a vital strength to the three women – mother, daughter, and grandmother – around whom this novel is built. It provides them with the courage to cope, in their different ways, with the unprecedented changes that occurred in Japan between the last years of the nineteenth century and the middle of the twentieth. (front cover)
There are no chapters but we can find reading this novel amazingly enjoyable, realistically narrated and finely rendered. The story starts with the two female characters of different generation named Toyono and Hana, a paternal grandmother and her granddaughter, walking to the Miroku Hall on the top of Mount Koya (Koyasan, called affectionately like Fujisan), in Wakayama Prefecture one morning in the last years of the nineteenth century, in other words, due to its vague year as mentioned, imagine one of the years as you like, probably 1898 or 1899 but of course 1900 won't do. The year 1897 is relatively possible but it's a bit early, being far from 1900, the nineteenth century mark.
While reading English texts in essays, articles, novels, etc. once in a while I would be halted due to some particular words, phrases, idioms, etc. which literally captivate me; in other words, I couldn't help admiring how they've been well expressed in that particular contexts worth taking notes on paper or in mind so that I might apply in my writing sometime. It's one of my ways of reading that keeps me going, making it worthwhile, enjoyable and applicable. Therefore, I would cite three examples taken from her texts as those notable and unique ones I've never read anywhere before.
1. A few among them, blind to Hana's ungainly figure, fell in love with her lovey face. (p. 58)
2. The grains of rice, exposed to the strong sunlight, exuded a rich smell. In the Japanese art of incense-smelling, one did not "smell" incense, one "savored" it. (p. 69)
3. The waters of River Yu, a tributary of the Ki, gurgling as they always had, flowed between the rice paddies and filled the irrigation ditches which Keisaku had suggested digging to prevent flooding. (pp. 224-25)
etc.
To continue . . .
First Review:
I have never read Sawako Ariyoshi before; however, I was interested to read her novel The River of Ki by this paragraph, realizing it deserves reading with care and appreciation:
Powerful enough to sweep away people on its banks and placid enough to carry along with its flow a sumptuous wedding procession, the River Ki dominates the lives of the people who live in its fertile valley and imparts a vital strength to the three women – mother, daughter, and grandmother – around whom this novel is built. It provides them with the courage to cope, in their different ways, with the unprecedented changes that occurred in Japan between the last years of the nineteenth century and the middle of the twentieth. (front cover)
October 19, 2022
Sawako Ariyoshi és una de les autores japoneses més importants de la postguerra, i "Las damas de Kimoto" és la primera novel·la que va publicar, l'any 1959. Es presenta com una saga familiar amb quatre generacions de protagonistes femenines al Japó tradicional de finals del segle XIX i fins a la Segona Guerra Mundial. És un llibre interessant per molts motius: en primer lloc, perquè no està ambientat a Tòquio ni a cap altra gran ciutat, sinó al camp; en segon lloc, pel retrat que fa del paper de la dona, que és profund i acurat; en tercer lloc, perquè el context històric està ben introduït i realment es pot aprendre molt.
I ara la part que no m'ha agradat tant😅 El llibre va ple de noms de persona, prefectures, rius, províncies, noms de revista... i s'ha de llegir amb concentració. Això per si sol no és dolent, però suposa un problema quan els personatges són tan plans. Després de més de tres-centes pàgines, no recordo cap nom excepte el de les quatre protagonistes. Protagonistes que, per cert, tampoc sento que hagi conegut en profunditat i no m'ha semblat que evolucionin gaire. El que jo espero d'una saga familiar és que sigui una història on els personatges i el context estiguin en equilibri, i no m'ha semblat que l'autora hagi sabut trobar aquest equilibri. Sembla més un llibre sobre la història ‘recent’ del Japó rural: l'emancipació de la dona, els canvis socials i polítics, la Segona Guerra Mundial, la guerra sino-japonesa... És un context que em sembla interessantíssim, però m'ha faltat una mica més de 'marro' familiar🤪
I ara la part que no m'ha agradat tant😅 El llibre va ple de noms de persona, prefectures, rius, províncies, noms de revista... i s'ha de llegir amb concentració. Això per si sol no és dolent, però suposa un problema quan els personatges són tan plans. Després de més de tres-centes pàgines, no recordo cap nom excepte el de les quatre protagonistes. Protagonistes que, per cert, tampoc sento que hagi conegut en profunditat i no m'ha semblat que evolucionin gaire. El que jo espero d'una saga familiar és que sigui una història on els personatges i el context estiguin en equilibri, i no m'ha semblat que l'autora hagi sabut trobar aquest equilibri. Sembla més un llibre sobre la història ‘recent’ del Japó rural: l'emancipació de la dona, els canvis socials i polítics, la Segona Guerra Mundial, la guerra sino-japonesa... És un context que em sembla interessantíssim, però m'ha faltat una mica més de 'marro' familiar🤪
November 4, 2022
El paso del tiempo como el fluir de un río: siempre avanza imparable pero siempre unido también a su origen. Por las páginas de esta obra maestra se deslizan como si nada años, bodas, guerras, cambios y nuestras emociones contradictorias, todo girando alrededor de la inamovible matriarca Hana.
"Sin duda, los vientos del cambio zarandeaban la casa que había alojado a la familia patriarcal, pero Hana sabía que ese era su lugar. Se acomodaría en el salón hasta que una sacudida hiciera que las vigas se vinieran abajo y la casa se derrumbara".
"Sin duda, los vientos del cambio zarandeaban la casa que había alojado a la familia patriarcal, pero Hana sabía que ese era su lugar. Se acomodaría en el salón hasta que una sacudida hiciera que las vigas se vinieran abajo y la casa se derrumbara".
July 12, 2009
The River Ki is both a powerful river as well as a beautiful one, and here it represents and mirrors three generations of women before, during and after World War II. The story begins with Hana, the apple of her grandmother's eye, who is raised and bred as a traditional Japanese woman. She is married and gives birth to Fumio who, despite Hana's efforts and wishes, rebels against the traditional arts and culture of her upbringing. In her own marriage Fumio finds someone who is as interested as her in a modern lifestyle for themselves and their children. The result of that is Fumio's own daughter wants to learn more about the traditional, conservative lifestyle of a Japanese woman. The three women's lives are intertwined not only by their roles in their family but also by their roles in society. Traditional Japanese superstition, women's rights, and politics all play a hand in the story making for an interesting read.
I had not heard of this author previously, but considering my knowledge of Japanese writers (specifically Japanese women writers of the fifties and sixties) that's not surprising. The real beauty of the story is not only the family dynamic but the description of the landscape, the individual feelings of each of the women as well as how those feelings affect their interactions with one another. This is what Amy Tan wishes she was.
I had not heard of this author previously, but considering my knowledge of Japanese writers (specifically Japanese women writers of the fifties and sixties) that's not surprising. The real beauty of the story is not only the family dynamic but the description of the landscape, the individual feelings of each of the women as well as how those feelings affect their interactions with one another. This is what Amy Tan wishes she was.
April 15, 2022
⛩️ Cette histoire se situe au Japon, surtout à Wakayama. C'est l'histoire d'un héritage, de générations de femmes et filles , de mères, grands-mères et petites filles. Entre la fin du XIXe et la moitié du XXe. C'est l'histoire d'amour qu'on ne dit pas. De traditions que l'on perpétues ou que l'on veut briser. Cette histoire c'est celle de plusieurs femmes, de plusieurs enfants.
⛩️ J'ai beaucoup aimé les personnages et l'histoire. On est au début du XXe au Japon alors les esprits sont encore assez étriqués mais on voit des changements, l'évolution des mœurs, des pensées. C'est très beau, très doux et pourtant très fort.
⛩️ Fumio et Hanako sont deux personnages que j'ai adorées , elles sont si différentes et on voit tant de force dans leurs coeurs et dans leurs caractères.
⛩️ J'ai eu du mal à entrer dans l'histoire je dirais les 50 premières pages, il y a énormément de noms prénoms différents qui nous sont donnés et il est difficile de s'y repérer.
Tout le long du récit des personnages arrivent et repartent et parfois j'avoue que j'ai peiné à me souvenir de qui était qui pour qui. Mais les personnages principaux.les restent en mémoire !
⛩️ J'ai beaucoup aimé les personnages et l'histoire. On est au début du XXe au Japon alors les esprits sont encore assez étriqués mais on voit des changements, l'évolution des mœurs, des pensées. C'est très beau, très doux et pourtant très fort.
⛩️ Fumio et Hanako sont deux personnages que j'ai adorées , elles sont si différentes et on voit tant de force dans leurs coeurs et dans leurs caractères.
⛩️ J'ai eu du mal à entrer dans l'histoire je dirais les 50 premières pages, il y a énormément de noms prénoms différents qui nous sont donnés et il est difficile de s'y repérer.
Tout le long du récit des personnages arrivent et repartent et parfois j'avoue que j'ai peiné à me souvenir de qui était qui pour qui. Mais les personnages principaux.les restent en mémoire !
January 30, 2014
Sawako Ariyoshi è un'autrice giapponese completamente sfuggita dal mio radar, che ho recuperato in questa edizione preistorica solo grazie a circostanze fortuite.
"Il fiume Ki" è uno dei rari libri tradotti in italiano che racconta la progressiva occidentalizzazione del Giappone d'inizio '900 con uno stile intrinsecamente giapponese nella narrazione, a differenza di tanti altri nomi più noti già influenzati dall'Occidente anche nella struttura dei propri scritti.
Attraverso la vita adulta di una giovane sposa che percorre il fiume Ki per unirsi, secondo la tradizione, alla famiglia del marito, della sua facoltosa nonna e della figlia ribelle viene descritto il progressivo disfacimento di una famiglia di proprietari terrieri. L'opulenza del casato frana lentamente, di generazione in generazione, assieme al Giappone tradizionale, che si spegne progressivamente assieme alla protagonista Hana.
La caratteristica più aliena è proprio la mancanza di capitoli (il libro è diviso in tre parti), così si assiste a un lungo susseguirsi di eventi spesso privi di rilevanza, marginali, senza che mai la concatenazione di causa ed effetto dia un senso al contenuto apparentemente anarchico del libro. Invece il ritratto di Hana, una donna di cultura raffinata costretta a vivere il lento disfacimento del mondo governato dalle regole che ha interiorizzato da piccola, è potentissimo, complice l'abilità tutta giapponese del rendere un personaggio fittizio vittima di tutta una serie di amarezze, illusioni e sfortune che lo rendono estremamente realistico. Inoltre le figure della nonna e della figlia femminista sono il contrappunto ideale a completare la protagonista, a spiegarne appieno l'appartenenza senza stupidità o servilismo a un mondo di inconcepibile sottomissione della donna.
Veramente una lettura pregevole che, seppur con tecniche narrative a noi poco familiari, regala delle caratterizzazioni veramente chirurgiche di numerosi personaggi, soprattutto femminili.
Nel caso siate appassionati di letteratura giapponese e abbiate la fortuna di poter metterci sopra le mani, non lasciatevelo sfuggire.
"Il fiume Ki" è uno dei rari libri tradotti in italiano che racconta la progressiva occidentalizzazione del Giappone d'inizio '900 con uno stile intrinsecamente giapponese nella narrazione, a differenza di tanti altri nomi più noti già influenzati dall'Occidente anche nella struttura dei propri scritti.
Attraverso la vita adulta di una giovane sposa che percorre il fiume Ki per unirsi, secondo la tradizione, alla famiglia del marito, della sua facoltosa nonna e della figlia ribelle viene descritto il progressivo disfacimento di una famiglia di proprietari terrieri. L'opulenza del casato frana lentamente, di generazione in generazione, assieme al Giappone tradizionale, che si spegne progressivamente assieme alla protagonista Hana.
La caratteristica più aliena è proprio la mancanza di capitoli (il libro è diviso in tre parti), così si assiste a un lungo susseguirsi di eventi spesso privi di rilevanza, marginali, senza che mai la concatenazione di causa ed effetto dia un senso al contenuto apparentemente anarchico del libro. Invece il ritratto di Hana, una donna di cultura raffinata costretta a vivere il lento disfacimento del mondo governato dalle regole che ha interiorizzato da piccola, è potentissimo, complice l'abilità tutta giapponese del rendere un personaggio fittizio vittima di tutta una serie di amarezze, illusioni e sfortune che lo rendono estremamente realistico. Inoltre le figure della nonna e della figlia femminista sono il contrappunto ideale a completare la protagonista, a spiegarne appieno l'appartenenza senza stupidità o servilismo a un mondo di inconcepibile sottomissione della donna.
Veramente una lettura pregevole che, seppur con tecniche narrative a noi poco familiari, regala delle caratterizzazioni veramente chirurgiche di numerosi personaggi, soprattutto femminili.
Nel caso siate appassionati di letteratura giapponese e abbiate la fortuna di poter metterci sopra le mani, non lasciatevelo sfuggire.
March 12, 2017
Christ, why can't these people actually like each other a bit more?:
"Hana bowed her head in silence. A wave of happiness swept over her. A woman who succeeded in winning the affection of her mother-in-law had the family under her control. Any woman would be proud of such an achievement."
Yeah. Whatever.
Anyway ... I thought this would be really boring. I only bought it because I found it for next-to-nothing in a charity shop. But it held my attention and there were bits I really enjoyed.
"Hana bowed her head in silence. A wave of happiness swept over her. A woman who succeeded in winning the affection of her mother-in-law had the family under her control. Any woman would be proud of such an achievement."
Yeah. Whatever.
Anyway ... I thought this would be really boring. I only bought it because I found it for next-to-nothing in a charity shop. But it held my attention and there were bits I really enjoyed.
February 8, 2023
Me ha gustado muchísimo. El uso de cuatro generaciones de mujeres para hablar sobre la tradición, la historia de Japón, los cambios sociales y como esto se puede ver en cada salto generacional me ha parecido una maravilla. Así como la relación entre unas y como todas estas cosas les afectan en su forma de ser y de entender las cosas y el mundo.
January 25, 2020
3.5/5
I feel this work would be improved by being much, much, much longer. The beginning and the end are the strongest due to the narrative confining itself to the scope of a single, multi-generational resonance, and while the between managed to maintain a believable progression of burgeoning conflict of the the beginning of tradition meeting white imperialism resulting in a backlash of responding Japanese imperialism. However, the text just before and during WWII was deluged with veritable info dumps, including an actual copy paste from a relevant history book, and it became more and more difficult to engage with the characters on the strength of the narrative, especially when the text was strewn with short nuggets of brief introspection that was supposed to substitute for credible character development. A breaking up of the chronologies into chapters rather than a trilogy of parts covering a half century or more may have also helped frame the text better, but where to start and where to end? Ultimately, I certainly learned a lot from this oftentimes surface skimming of one woman's life (the blurb says three, but it's obvious who's the main character ), but show not tell is too firmly ingrained in my preferences for me to appreciate the sharp, borderline clinical divide between the narrative trajectory and the footnote-esque remarks on characters' interior states. So, judging by my differences in opinion between the two Ariyoshi works, this wasn't as focused as The Doctor's Wife, and thus runs the risk of coming off mashed together rather than delightfully digressive. What engaged, however, was really quite good, and it's just a shame that works by women in translation tend to run so much shorter than everything else, and whatever forces that influence such did so here to the detriment of this work's overall effect.
Going into this reminded me a great deal of The Makioka Sisters, but that covers a lot less territory in both place and chronology and, if I remember correctly, far fewer characters over practically twice the page length, depending on the edition. I read TMS so early on in my reading translations/Japanese lit that chances are good that it had a formative effect on my expectations of the category as a whole, which perhaps contributed to the issues that I had with this work here. It's not as if I was extremely disappointed with it, but it is rather frustrating to watch the story whirl by, the narrative expecting that a brief interiority here and there, heavily biased in favor of the main matrilineal trifecta, would be sufficient to explore the web of birth, death, and familial decay in the midst of political movements, half a century of sociotechnological development, and two world wars (one if Japan's participation is required for the war to count as one of the world). This might be good for those who have no patience for slow contemplation, but there is an awful lot of jargon/historical reference in certain sections without much in the way of annotated context, so I don't see it being very welcoming in that regard as well. Still, various images put forth of traditional wealth, cultural architecture, and time proven customs conjoined with the physical landscape of water and rice are rather lovely, and the melding of modern sensibilities with enjoyment of age old heritage reminds me of my own predilections, the concrete aspect of a long pursued treebook wedded to the digital ease of online cataloging. An ambitious novel, then, but worth many more pages than it was ultimately given, and my only hope is Ariyoshi developed these themes in a longer, perhaps as of yet untranslated work: she certainly has enough of them.
This work wasn't as successful as my last Ariyoshi, but with her The Twilight Years waiting in the wings with a smaller narrative scope, I'm hoping that this read, whenever I manage to acquire a copy, has more of the power I remember experiencing in TDW. My issue with this may have been not a little fueled by impatience (a weekend of Disneyland behind and a return to school and work ahead has made me more than a little fatigued by having to do a great deal of catch up reading during a still not quite familiar work schedule), but just as life demands that I keep up, I have the right to demand my books either do the same or give me space to breath. In any case, I'm hoping to live along enough that some of Ariyoshi's previously mentioned as of yet untranslated works make their way to my side of the Pacific, if just to make sure that my lackluster experience here isn't simply a matter of author/reader incompatibility. I don't want to disregard a woman translation that I've previously had luck with before before I've amassed more experience with her bibliography.
I feel this work would be improved by being much, much, much longer. The beginning and the end are the strongest due to the narrative confining itself to the scope of a single, multi-generational resonance, and while the between managed to maintain a believable progression of burgeoning conflict of the the beginning of tradition meeting white imperialism resulting in a backlash of responding Japanese imperialism. However, the text just before and during WWII was deluged with veritable info dumps, including an actual copy paste from a relevant history book, and it became more and more difficult to engage with the characters on the strength of the narrative, especially when the text was strewn with short nuggets of brief introspection that was supposed to substitute for credible character development. A breaking up of the chronologies into chapters rather than a trilogy of parts covering a half century or more may have also helped frame the text better, but where to start and where to end? Ultimately, I certainly learned a lot from this oftentimes surface skimming of one woman's life (the blurb says three, but it's obvious who's the main character ), but show not tell is too firmly ingrained in my preferences for me to appreciate the sharp, borderline clinical divide between the narrative trajectory and the footnote-esque remarks on characters' interior states. So, judging by my differences in opinion between the two Ariyoshi works, this wasn't as focused as The Doctor's Wife, and thus runs the risk of coming off mashed together rather than delightfully digressive. What engaged, however, was really quite good, and it's just a shame that works by women in translation tend to run so much shorter than everything else, and whatever forces that influence such did so here to the detriment of this work's overall effect.
Going into this reminded me a great deal of The Makioka Sisters, but that covers a lot less territory in both place and chronology and, if I remember correctly, far fewer characters over practically twice the page length, depending on the edition. I read TMS so early on in my reading translations/Japanese lit that chances are good that it had a formative effect on my expectations of the category as a whole, which perhaps contributed to the issues that I had with this work here. It's not as if I was extremely disappointed with it, but it is rather frustrating to watch the story whirl by, the narrative expecting that a brief interiority here and there, heavily biased in favor of the main matrilineal trifecta, would be sufficient to explore the web of birth, death, and familial decay in the midst of political movements, half a century of sociotechnological development, and two world wars (one if Japan's participation is required for the war to count as one of the world). This might be good for those who have no patience for slow contemplation, but there is an awful lot of jargon/historical reference in certain sections without much in the way of annotated context, so I don't see it being very welcoming in that regard as well. Still, various images put forth of traditional wealth, cultural architecture, and time proven customs conjoined with the physical landscape of water and rice are rather lovely, and the melding of modern sensibilities with enjoyment of age old heritage reminds me of my own predilections, the concrete aspect of a long pursued treebook wedded to the digital ease of online cataloging. An ambitious novel, then, but worth many more pages than it was ultimately given, and my only hope is Ariyoshi developed these themes in a longer, perhaps as of yet untranslated work: she certainly has enough of them.
This work wasn't as successful as my last Ariyoshi, but with her The Twilight Years waiting in the wings with a smaller narrative scope, I'm hoping that this read, whenever I manage to acquire a copy, has more of the power I remember experiencing in TDW. My issue with this may have been not a little fueled by impatience (a weekend of Disneyland behind and a return to school and work ahead has made me more than a little fatigued by having to do a great deal of catch up reading during a still not quite familiar work schedule), but just as life demands that I keep up, I have the right to demand my books either do the same or give me space to breath. In any case, I'm hoping to live along enough that some of Ariyoshi's previously mentioned as of yet untranslated works make their way to my side of the Pacific, if just to make sure that my lackluster experience here isn't simply a matter of author/reader incompatibility. I don't want to disregard a woman translation that I've previously had luck with before before I've amassed more experience with her bibliography.
July 4, 2022
J'aurais dû lire le roman avant la BD! Voici donc la partie qui me manquait. J'ai beaucoup aimé!
July 23, 2024
As desgracias veñen todas xuntas, mimá.
Por qué las damas de Kimoto si son de Matani casi todas...
Por qué las damas de Kimoto si son de Matani casi todas...
March 16, 2022
“She would remain quietly ensconced in the sitting room until the sturdy beams started cracking and the house itself collapsed.”
The River Ki is a tale of age-old traditions grappling with inevitable modernity told through the history of three generations of women spanning Meiji and Taishō era Japan, and World War I and World War II. It's a very straightforward narrative; almost told like a historical account. But it's a fascinating journey nonetheless to see how one family changes over the course of time, especially its women, in their belief systems, ways of living, and even their clothing. Only one thing is constant: the green river that connects them all together and one can say the one that brought them all together from the very beginning.
The River Ki is a tale of age-old traditions grappling with inevitable modernity told through the history of three generations of women spanning Meiji and Taishō era Japan, and World War I and World War II. It's a very straightforward narrative; almost told like a historical account. But it's a fascinating journey nonetheless to see how one family changes over the course of time, especially its women, in their belief systems, ways of living, and even their clothing. Only one thing is constant: the green river that connects them all together and one can say the one that brought them all together from the very beginning.
August 28, 2014
il fiume e la vita intorno ad esso
storia di una famiglia del Giappone rurale raccontata con l'ottica di Hana da quando va in sposa fino alla morte, il fiume è il centro della vita di questa antica famiglia e i racconti svelano il passare degli anni e i cambiamenti cui il Giappone è andato incontro nel corso del secolo appena trascorso, buffi i riferimenti agli albori di un pallido femminismo e a quello dello, stroncato sul nascere, orientamento politico comunista e nel contempo appare affascinante la finestra sul pensiero di questa gente così tipica dell'epoca...
storia di una famiglia del Giappone rurale raccontata con l'ottica di Hana da quando va in sposa fino alla morte, il fiume è il centro della vita di questa antica famiglia e i racconti svelano il passare degli anni e i cambiamenti cui il Giappone è andato incontro nel corso del secolo appena trascorso, buffi i riferimenti agli albori di un pallido femminismo e a quello dello, stroncato sul nascere, orientamento politico comunista e nel contempo appare affascinante la finestra sul pensiero di questa gente così tipica dell'epoca...
March 13, 2023
Me ha parecido súper elegante y sutil, con un ritmo muy fluido y sin pretensiones que hace que te lo termines en dos días.
Acompañando a varias generaciones de mujeres de esta familia, vivimos junto a ellas los cambios que tuvieron lugar en la sociedad japonesa desde finales del siglo XIX hasta mediados del XX. El libro habla de la tradición y del cambio, del papel de la mujer y de las relaciones familiares.
La verdad es que me ha resultado una delicia.
Creo haber descubierto a una autora que me va a acompañar más veces en el futuro.
Acompañando a varias generaciones de mujeres de esta familia, vivimos junto a ellas los cambios que tuvieron lugar en la sociedad japonesa desde finales del siglo XIX hasta mediados del XX. El libro habla de la tradición y del cambio, del papel de la mujer y de las relaciones familiares.
La verdad es que me ha resultado una delicia.
Creo haber descubierto a una autora que me va a acompañar más veces en el futuro.
August 9, 2022
3.8/5!!
April 26, 2023
2.5-3 stars
January 8, 2023
Primera novela del año. Me he dado cuenta de que me gustan mucho las novelas familiares que hablan de más de una generación
August 18, 2022
Evolution of Japan from late 19th to mid-20th century through a family saga, focused on 3 women of different generations.
A lovely read
A lovely read
August 18, 2020
Although this book is often described as a multigenerational saga, it really pivots around Hana, a deeply traditional woman whom some people (especially her eldest daughter Fumio) mistakenly see as ridiculously subservient. However, more observant people realize that Hana is a clever and powerful woman who is able to steer her husband's political career and earn nearly universal respect for herself. The novel starts with her lavish wedding with Keisaku Matani towards the end of the nineteenth century. According to custom, Hana breaks almost entirely with her biological family, including her beloved grand-mother Toyono, and virtually becomes the slave of her in-laws. Although this involves some, to us, repulsive duties, like blackening her mother-in-law's teeth, Hana sees this as perfectly normal and in fact her in-laws are rather nice people, except for Keisaku's brother Kosaku, an intellectual who resents his ancillary position as second son. In an attempt to mend bridges with Kosaku, Keisaku takes the unusual step of giving his younger brother a huge share of their inheritance, including valuable land and even an honorary title. However, Kosaku remains bitter and aloof, and eventually impregnates his servant Ume, thereby jeopardizing Keisaku's political ascent. Hana saves the day by making Kosaku marry Ume, but relationships between the 2 branches of the family remain strained as Kosaku is probably more in love with the beautiful and accomplished Hana than with his modest bride. Hana gives Keisaku 5 children, including 2 sons, neither of whom turn out especially well. After Hana, the second most important character is her daughter Fumio, who sees herself as a rebel and a thoroughly modern woman, as long as her parents keep financing her lifestyle. Fumio chooses to move to Tokyo and refuses to marry a landowner's son. Eventually she marries a bank employee and moves overseas. Fumio and Eiji have several children, including Hanako who grows very close to her grand-mother Hana. Fumio's defiant adoption of a western lifestyle is slowly eroded by hard blows like the death of a child that make her more open to the old ways and superstitions. The end of the book chronicles the impact of WWII on the Matani family. Oddly enough, their impoverishment liberates Hana from the burden of handing over the land and precious objects to the next generation and in the end she doesn't find it difficult at all to do without the luxury which seemed to be such a part of her identity. This novel is as old-fashioned as its themes but it is very perceptively written and I was consistently fascinated by the little details chosen to illustrate the slow evolution of the role of women in Japanese society.
February 13, 2019
Fin du 19e siècle, Hana part se marier loin de sa grand-mère qui l’a élevée.
Elle épouse un riche propriétaire terrine promis à un bel avenir.
Hana respecte les traditions japonaises : art floral, musique, beaux kimonos.
Si son premier fils ne lui pose aucun problème, sa fille Fumio, en revanche, lui donne du fil à retordre. C’est une révoltée qui va partir faire ses études à Tokyo et y trouver son mari. Ensemble, ils voyageront jusqu’au déclenchement de la Seconde Guerre Mondiale.
Leur fille Hanako reviendra s’installer le temps de la guerre chez sa grand-mère.
On suit Hana, depuis son mariage et sa séparation d’avec Toyono sa grand-mère qui lui a tout appris.
Hana est « de la vieille école » et, dans sa campagne, ne souhaite pas voir le Japon des années 20-30. Ses références sont celles d’un autre âge.
J’ai aimé suivre Hana, femme de tête malgré son effacement d’épouse ; sa relation compliquée avec sa fille qu’elle ne lâche pourtant jamais.
J’ai aimé que sa petite fille, Hanako, revienne aux traditions de sa grand-mère tout en étant une jeune femme résolument moderne.
Un roman féministe s’il en est, qui montre la place des femmes dans la reconstruction du Japon d’après-guerre et l’importance du maintien des traditions.
Un roman qui montre aussi comment certains japonais ont tout perdu à cause de la guerre.
L’image que je retiendrai :
Celle de la rivière Ki coulant dans la province et qui est si joliment décrite.
Quelques citations :
Hana se souvint que dans l’art des parfums, on parlait d’entendre un parfum plutôt que de le sentir. Ici, elle entendait l’automne. (p.95)
– Mère, ne croyez-vous pas que le système matriarcal de la société primitive était plus conforme à la nature ? (p.271)
https://alexmotamots.fr/les-dames-de-...
Elle épouse un riche propriétaire terrine promis à un bel avenir.
Hana respecte les traditions japonaises : art floral, musique, beaux kimonos.
Si son premier fils ne lui pose aucun problème, sa fille Fumio, en revanche, lui donne du fil à retordre. C’est une révoltée qui va partir faire ses études à Tokyo et y trouver son mari. Ensemble, ils voyageront jusqu’au déclenchement de la Seconde Guerre Mondiale.
Leur fille Hanako reviendra s’installer le temps de la guerre chez sa grand-mère.
On suit Hana, depuis son mariage et sa séparation d’avec Toyono sa grand-mère qui lui a tout appris.
Hana est « de la vieille école » et, dans sa campagne, ne souhaite pas voir le Japon des années 20-30. Ses références sont celles d’un autre âge.
J’ai aimé suivre Hana, femme de tête malgré son effacement d’épouse ; sa relation compliquée avec sa fille qu’elle ne lâche pourtant jamais.
J’ai aimé que sa petite fille, Hanako, revienne aux traditions de sa grand-mère tout en étant une jeune femme résolument moderne.
Un roman féministe s’il en est, qui montre la place des femmes dans la reconstruction du Japon d’après-guerre et l’importance du maintien des traditions.
Un roman qui montre aussi comment certains japonais ont tout perdu à cause de la guerre.
L’image que je retiendrai :
Celle de la rivière Ki coulant dans la province et qui est si joliment décrite.
Quelques citations :
Hana se souvint que dans l’art des parfums, on parlait d’entendre un parfum plutôt que de le sentir. Ici, elle entendait l’automne. (p.95)
– Mère, ne croyez-vous pas que le système matriarcal de la société primitive était plus conforme à la nature ? (p.271)
https://alexmotamots.fr/les-dames-de-...
July 25, 2020
This is the first novel I've read from Japanese author Sawako Ariyoshi. It takes a female author to write a family saga from a women's perspective. This book is a 4 generation family saga from Toyono to her grand-daughter Hana, from Hana to her daughter Fumio, and finally from Fumio to Hanakado.
This story spans several decades from late 19th century to mid 20th century and about a traditional Feudal Japan to a new modern Japan.
Although the Japanese society seems to always have been a traditional and patriarchal society, the author through this sage shows the great importance of women within the society. Whether through the leading characters of Hana or Fumio, these two strong women were very supportive and helpful to their respective husbands, whom were able to have a successful careers thanks to their wives.
Furthermore, women had the role educating their children and passing on the country's traditions, values and arts to the future generation. Otherwise, all would disappear for ever. While Hana was the image of feudal traditions, her daughter was against family traditions and pro-modernity. Therefore, women were the contrasting driving forces between both keeping traditions intact and making change within society. Hanakado portrays the new generation post WWII, who is comfortable with traditions and modernity.
This novel is a great read that enlightens about the Japaneese society in a new way and through the lenses of women.
This story spans several decades from late 19th century to mid 20th century and about a traditional Feudal Japan to a new modern Japan.
Although the Japanese society seems to always have been a traditional and patriarchal society, the author through this sage shows the great importance of women within the society. Whether through the leading characters of Hana or Fumio, these two strong women were very supportive and helpful to their respective husbands, whom were able to have a successful careers thanks to their wives.
Furthermore, women had the role educating their children and passing on the country's traditions, values and arts to the future generation. Otherwise, all would disappear for ever. While Hana was the image of feudal traditions, her daughter was against family traditions and pro-modernity. Therefore, women were the contrasting driving forces between both keeping traditions intact and making change within society. Hanakado portrays the new generation post WWII, who is comfortable with traditions and modernity.
This novel is a great read that enlightens about the Japaneese society in a new way and through the lenses of women.
December 24, 2015
What a wonderful book. I read in Japanese and there's so much more to it from the conservative time of the first generation towards women to the modern times after the war... Unfortunately, comparing with the English version a little, it seems that the translated version missed lots of details that were existent in the Japanese version. Nonetheless it's a fantastic book to understand how women's positions altered with the modern generations in Japan.
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