What is the book about?
The four Makioka sisters lead very complicated, strenuous lives, although on the surface nothing much ever happens to them. Part of a fading Japanese aristocracy in the years leading up to World War II, they cannot escape the wide net of the family name--something always brings them back to the reality of "being a Makioka." Running out of money, living in falling-apart houses, growing older beneath the sunlight of the modern world, they do their best to preserve the rituals of the past. The two older sisters work diligently to arrange a marriage for the third sister, Yukiko. Desperate to find someone to take care of her, they keep lowering their standards. One night they find themselves out with a drunk, selfish crackpot who has no money, but who is supposed to be related to a man who works for an important utility company. The fact that he is even a candidate for their sister's hand is a sign of how far they have fallen.
Junichiro Tanizaki wrestled throughout his career with the idea of a country where tribes of aristocrats live as relics, grasping at the past through gestures, manners, small and intricate private laws. The narrative suspense of The Makioka Sisters is rooted in this single-minded nostalgia, this strict attention to the details of domestic life as the outer world becomes more and more incomprehensible. Pages are devoted to musing about whether Yukiko should "risk" meeting a potential husband when there is a spot above her eye--maybe she should play it safe and go to the doctor about it; maybe the potential husband will interpret it as bad luck. Tanizaki manages to make the struggle over this small, dark spot wildly compelling.
If epic literature is based in the dramatic and forward-moving narrative of a male hero's journey, The Makioka Sisters is a female epic of inaction--trying to figure out what to wear, crying for no reason at the same time every afternoon. With each perilous, pathetic step, the sisters are heroes setting out for the new world. They are like Odysseus, except without the ship and without the sea. (Amazon.com review)
Why this book?
I have long been a fan of Japanese literature and culture, but it was only very recently that I discovered Tanizaki and his magnum opus. I had been aware of the existence of the book, but had been intimidated by its size (530 pages) and ignored it for a long time. When I finally geared myself up for it, I combed through the first few chapters looking for surreal imagery – something I had come to expect of Japanese literature after having read the entire oeuvre of Murakami’s – and found myself disappointed. The novel is a straightforward account of the ups and downs experienced by the Makioka sisters, with every event and detail spelt out in painstakingly descriptive language. The novel had first struck me as a “soap opera” (Vikram Seth’s “A Suitable Boy” certainly is one), but here is the surprise: the more I read of it, the more addictive the book became. The addiction became so acute that, by the time I was a quarter of the way into the book , I had to continue reading deep into the night to find out whether Yukiko’s next miai would be a success, or if Sachiko would finally get to please everyone by doing the right thing. (Curiously, the Amazon.com review does not mention Sachiko, the middle sister who is in fact literally the middle-woman and the main protagonist of the novel.) Even though it is a novel of some 500 pages, you will wish it could be another 500 pages longer when you get to the final page. This is largely due to Tanizaki’s unhurried style of story-telling. His language is unpretentious, clear, and evocative of a realism that breathes so much life into the characters that they become your confidants, your own family members. You end up rooting for Yukiko, being frustrated along with Sachiko, and sympathising with the rebellious youngest sister Taeko.
The novel is more than just about women who are desperate to get married and preserve their family tradition. In a more subtle context, Tanizaki also discusses pertinent issues such as change, decay, loss, and nostalgia. The novel was written during WWII, a time of great consternation for Japan and its rival China. Ordinary Japanese people had nothing to gain from the war; life as they knew it had to continue regardless. But life was no longer as they knew it: the harmony they lived in before the war was now a thing of the past. The feudal Japan they embraced had crumbled, and a new, militant Japan was on the rise. The only way for them to preserve some of life’s dignity was to reach back into the past and relive the glory of the olden times, or like the Makioka sisters, hold on to traditional values despite social change and pressure.
The novel is an endearing look at Japanese society and culture before it was irreversibly altered by the war. There is a sense of melancholy that permeates it, as if the author, while composing it, were aware of the transience of life and attempting to come to terms with it. Happiness does not last, neither does peace (of mind). Nature, for example, is a constant threat to peace. Disturbingly, there is a chapter on a great flood that reminds one of the recent tsunami disaster in north-eastern Japan. Life is a fragile gift.
What would be a good book to read after this?
Japanese literature is more than just Haruki Murakami. For traditional Japanese literature, try the incomparable Natsume Souseki (“Kokoro,” “I Am a Cat”), Kawabata Yasunari (“Snow Country”), Mishima Yukio (“The Temple of the Golden Pavillion”), and Akutagawa Ryunosuke (“Rashomon”).
