Haruki Murakami's Norwegian Wood

Many avid readers, even non-Japanese ones, are probably familiar with (or have, at the very least, heard of) Japan's most renowned contemporary fiction writer, Haruki Murakami 村上春樹(1949-).  I had heard the name myself only a handful of times, especially in connection with surrealism and dystopian societies.  But this semester, my Japanese literature professor assigned one of Murakami's older works entitled Norwegian Wood ノルウェイの森.  Published in 1987, this novel catapulted Murakami to international fame.  But what struck me as peculiar was how the book itself was not one of these surreal re-imaginings that I knew Murakami to be so fond of.  Rather, it was a simple, autobiographical-sounding tale of a young man, Toru, a young woman, Naoko, and their connection to a friend and boyfriend, respectively, named Kizuki--who, at the beginning of the novel, suddenly, and for no apparent reason, commits suicide.

My research on the sociological aspects of suicide in Japan has revealed some startling facts about suicide's moral implications and social utility.  But this modern novel in particular offers a unique and complex take on the age-old topic.  Instead of using suicide to establish a seamless conclusion to a narrative, such as author Matsumoto Seichou does in his 1960 novel Nami no Tou (see previous post), or to reiterate traditional  values of self-sacrifice and honor, Murakami illustrates the disastrous snowball effect suicide can have on others.  His novel is a realistic depiction of suicide; it does not laud the act but condemn it, primarily by highlighting the severe aftereffects such an event can have on the people involved.  For Toru and Naoko, Kizuki's suicide does nothing to maintain the group harmony.  Toru and Naoko sustain a peculiar friendship following Kizuki's death, but it is almost unnatural for the pair; Kizuki's presence, it seems, was the fundamental nexus in the trio of friends.

Murakami paints a picture of suicide different from the traditional Japanese values of honor, duty, and self-sacrifice.  In Norwegian Wood, we are never given a direct motivation for Kizuki's suicide.  Wendy Jones Nakanishi, author of "The Dying Game: Suicide in Modern Japanese Literature," asks, "Was Kazuki's suicide in Norwegian Wood attributable to school pressures?"  Perhaps had Murakami clarified this, there would have been a sense of closure for the friends.  But not all suicides have clear motivations behind them, and the ones that don't are often the ones that leave others feeling most dissatisfied.  In other words, Murakami focuses on the effects of suicide rather than the cause.  No longer is suicide simply an effortless slip out of the harsh reality of life; it has consequences on the living and likewise holds the capacity to damage, rather than rectify, lives and/or situations.  The entire novel details Toru's and Naoko's different reactions to Kizuki's suicide--how they try to move on, try to understand what happened, and eventually come to terms with it.  But for Naoko, her boyfriend's suicide can never be rationalized or accepted.  SPOILER: Eventually, she too ends up killing herself.

In his version of literary suicide, Murakami channels the more Western ideas that suicide is not a solution but a problem.  We don't exactly know what Kizuki's problems were, but we do know that his decision to commit suicide becomes a (particularly long-term) problem for both Toru and Naoko.

What I want to know is why certain authors, such as Murakami, want to portray this specific side of suicide.  Instead of reverting back to more traditional depictions of aesthetic or honorable suicide, Murakami suggests suicide is a crisis to be avoided.  Is Murakami simply trying to view suicide from a more realistic lens to appeal to a modern audience?  Are Japanese values of self-sacrifice changing to say that suicide is no longer practical or responsible?

The Seppuku Ritual

 

I've mentioned multiple times in both  my presentation and previous posts the prevalence of a type of formalized ritual suicide called seppuku 切腹, or the cruder hara-kiri 腹切り, which more literally translates to "stomach cutting."  I haven't taken the time to thoroughly examine the historical or cultural context associated with the traditionally militaristic ritual of the samurai, so I would like to use this post as a chance to elaborate on this topic of particular interest to me.  I will be basing all of my research off of one of my sources for my paper, a 2011 book entitled Seppuku: A History of Samurai Suicide by Andrew Rankin.  The chapter I am focusing on is "The Seppuku Ritual."

Before 1600, seppuku was more of an impromptu act in times of "inevitable capture or defeat" (87); it had no formalized rules or methods as we understand it today.  In fact, it wasn't until the early 1700s that more detailed guidelines began to surface for how to correctly perform seppuku.  According to the systematic ritual, the location is extremely important, as well as the type of sword used, the clothes, the audience, and the pre-ritual cleansing.  Family was not allowed to attend the ceremony.

The kaishaku is a necessity.  He is the friend or colleague selected to perform the decapitation of the one committing seppuku after the ritual stomach cutting has been completed.  This person's responsibilities are to monitor the entire event and confirm its correct execution.  This two-person performance could be described in more Western terms as a type of assisted suicide, although this in turn tends to de-ritualize the significant formalized aspects of the entire act.  In addition, the kaishaku is supposed to have at least one assistant--again, to ensure the flawless progression of the seppuku ritual.  The somewhat large number of people associated with the ritual--the kaishaku, the assistant(s), and the audience--highlight, in my opinion, the ingrained social significance and superiority of the group in Japanese society--even, as this illustrates, in acts of individual suicide.  The suicide ritual is thus a sort of nexus in the chain of society, functioning as a means of upholding harmony between individuals and the overarching fabric of the group.

Interestingly, the act of seppuku itself assumes a variety of forms.  There is ichimonji (one horizontal cut), which was standard in the Tokugawa Period (1603-1867).  Rankin explains how "Many early cases of ichimonji are actually aborted jumonji [two crossed cuts to form a cross shape], where a warrior intending to make two cuts runs out of steam after the first" (97).  It would seem that even samurai could only withhold so much pain at a single moment.  In some ways, the more cuts a warrior could make before dying, the more respect and praise he could garner upon his death.  The sanmonji (three horizontal cuts) was probably the most painful and impressive version of seppuku a warrior could perform--if he had the guts (pun intended).

This is just a cursory description of the intricacies of the seppuku ritual.  But I think it is important that for us to understand suicide's place in modern society and literature we have a keen understanding of the ritualized origins of a very important--though these days rare--method of suicide.

Current Suicide Trends and Prevention Measures

So I figured for this post, I would take a step away from the literary world and focus primarily on the sociological aspect of my research.  I went over most of these points in my presentation (NOTE: Must be logged in as USC student/faculty to view in GoogleDocs), but here I'd like to present the current rates and prevention measures for suicide in Japan a bit more in-depth.

After I gave my presentation in class on Tuesday, I conducted more research on my topic and found a much more informative sociological article from 2009 that contained a suicide rate chart reaching as far back as 1899 (previously, I could only find one reaching as far back as 1953).  According to the chart's accompanying analysis, there is a clear peak after WWII (something I theorized but did not have adequate data to use as evidence) as well as peaks in 1986 and 2003.  Again, the highest number of suicides was attributed to males, mostly of middle-age status, and there is a clear link between suicide rates and unemployment rates.

But aside from middle-aged men, "among men under 44 and women under 34 years of age, suicide is the most frequent cause of death."  In short, suicide in Japan appears to be most prominent in young adults and the early middle-aged.  But why is this?  The article doesn't offer much in terms of speculation, but based on my own research, I find it likely that the high tendency for youths--in particular high schoolers--to commit suicide has much to do with school pressure, entrance exams, and bullying.

The article goes on to define a brief history of legal and social actions taken to curb suicide rates.  Official prevention measures started in 1979 with the Cabinet Office and Ministry of Education.  But it wasn't until after 1998 with the economic disaster and sudden spike in suicide rates that the Ministry of Health, Labor and Welfare (MHLW) began to more diligently assess the problem of suicide.

Something I was not aware of in giving my presentation was the formation of the Comprehensive Suicide Prevention Initiative (CSPI) in 2007.  The project runs under the motto "Creating a Society Where Life is Easier."  It recognizes suicide as a "forced death," implying that the cause is not in the individual but in society.  This idea fits nicely into what I've been uncovering--the fact that one of the reasons suicide is so high today is not simply because of the economy but a set of embedded societal expectations, particularly those of middle-aged men.  Whether or not suicide rates directly relate back to the samurai ideals of honor and duty is unclear, but it is certain that the Japanese still value these traits--and that suicide remains an unfortunate extension.

What do you think?

Author Yukio Mishima, Suicide, and Aestheticism

I'm guessing a lot of non-Japanese people don't know too much about contemporary Japanese authors.  One writer I find most fascinating--as do most Japanese people, I'm presuming--is Yukio Mishima 三島 由紀夫 (1925-1970).  Mishima was famous for his revolutionary literary works and style--and infamous for his traditional political ideologies.  Several of Mishima's works, such as The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea 午後の曳航 or Patriotism 憂國, exhibit a peculiar preoccupation with the philosophical and political implications of death, or more particularly suicide.  Mishima often represents death as an honorable act of duty and as a social, political, and/or philosophical statement--a way for the protagonist to come to terms with some sort of significant internal dilemma.

In Patriotism, a 1960 novella mentioned above, Mishima plays with the idea of seppuku, or ritualized suicide (see previous post for picture and definition).  The story focuses on the last night of a young soldier, Shinji, and his beautiful wife, Reiko, both of whom plan to end their lives via ritualized suicide, a decision that stems from Shinji's traumatic inability to decide between vowing loyalty to the imperial army and backing his friends.

If we are to analyze Mishima's descriptive suicide in accordance with my previous post, the type of suicide in Patriotism seems to fall under all three categories.  Shinji's decision to commit seppuku is both a traditional show of duty as well as an acceptable escape from an impossible situation--in this case, his inability to choose between his obligations as a soldier and his commitment to his friends.  However, his choice to die alongside his wife, who slits her own neck, is a startlingly provocative depiction of the power of love in the spiritual and physical bond between husband and wife.

Mishima transcends these three categories by adding an aesthetic element.  Suicide is depicted in seamless juxtaposition with sex, love, and honor.  It is an act of courage and almost pleasure for Shinji and Reiko.  This idea of aestheticism in suicide is prevalent in another 1960 Japanese work entitled Tower of Waves, or Nami no Tou, by Seichou Matsumoto.  In her review of the novel, Roxanne Russell describes suicide as a serene and natural departure for the heroine.

Mishima's and Matsumoto's works differ greatly in their material and even in the setting and reasoning behind their protagonists' suicides.  But there is still a fundamentally aesthetic aspect to suicide in both of their writings.

What do you think?  Is it okay to depict suicide as something beautiful?  Or does this simply perpetuate the idea that suicide isn't a "big deal"?

What Kinds of Suicide are There?

I think the title says it all--What kinds of suicide exist in Japanese culture?  It's a difficult question to ask, but I believe it is important for me to establish the different types of actions people take and how their choices influence the way people view suicide in Japanese society.  Is all suicide viewed as sympathetic and/or morally responsible, or are only specific types of suicide considered so?  It's one of those ambiguous notions that will be difficult for me to fully answer.  But hopefully I can shed some light on just how complex the trend of suicide--in both Japanese society and literature--really is.

I am basing most of my research in this post off of one of my key sources highlighted in my literature review.  It is a scholarly article by Wendy Jones Nakanishi entitled "The Dying Game: Suicide in Modern Japanese Literature."  Her analysis provided me with some fundamental facts about suicide--the idea that there are multiple circumstances in which suicide can become a viable option for the modern-day Japanese.

So what is there?

First, there's the idea that suicide can be "an honorable means of accepting blame or of shouldering responsibility," as Nakanishi states.  This can be tied back to the traditional samurai codes, in which men would commit seppuku--a type of suicide involving disemboweling oneself with a sword.

Choosing to die is linked to the concept of self-sacrifice, of acknowledging one's failure to be successful and/or carry out one's duties/obligations (whether they be militaristic, social, or moral).

Another example of suicide are the infamous lovers' suicide pacts, or shinju 心中(double suicide).  In contemporary literature, we see shinju as a running theme in Jun'ichiro Tanizaki's novel Quicksand.  We also see similar themes in Haruki Murakami's works, as Nakanishi points out.  If we look at Japan from a religious context, shinju makes a lot of sense.  People did and do not necessarily fear the afterlife or any type of moral reckoning upon death; thus, shinju is nothing but a pragmatic and romantic way to extricate one's relationship from the confines of strict social convention.

A third type of suicide is something probably more prevalent in the West--the idea of escaping from a problem that seems to have no end in sight.  In Japan, this can be attributed to either bullying, or ijime いじめ, or the pressure to pass difficult school entrance exams.

These are probably what most Westerners think of when they hear the phrase "suicide in Japan."  We tend to have this view of Japanese suicide as something we're more familiar with--social and school-related pressures--but we rarely seem to associate suicide with some of Japan's more traditional, culturally ingrained mores, such as honor, duty, and responsibility.

What do you guys think?  What do you think of when asked to ponder "suicide in Japan"?  Am I right in assuming that most Westerners would probably only think of the third type I listed above?