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The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea
by Yukio Mishima

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<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/162332.The_Sailor_Who_Fell_From_Grace_with_the_Sea?utm_medium=api&amp;utm_source=blog_review" style="float: left; padding-right: 20px"><img alt="The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea" border="0" src="http://s3.amazonaws.com/photo.goodreads.com/books/1172301569m/162332.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/162332.The_Sailor_Who_Fell_From_Grace_with_the_Sea?utm_medium=api&utm_source=blog_review">The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea</a> by <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/35258.Yukio_Mishima">Yukio Mishima</a> 
 <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/show/19708673?utm_medium=api&utm_source=blog_review"><h3>My review</h3></a>
 rating: 3 of 5 stars The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea follows the adventures of Noburu a 13 year old boy and his crazy gang of schoolmates, "all smallish, delicate boys and excellent students," who try to oppose their relative powerlessness in the world by developing a dark idealistic "philosophy" that glorifies inhumanity and emotional detachment. 
 We are also told the story of Fusako, Noburu's mother, the widowed proprieter of a successful high-end boutique, and her passionate affair with Ryuji, a sailor. We watch as their awkward interactions and a meaningless one night stand evolve into a tender relationship and real need for one another. 
 We witness Noburu's attempt to rectify the wildly confused emotional response he has when Ryuji, who he initially idolizes for his heroic life at sea, devoid of attachment, and his mother embark on a real relationship, with the credo of his "gang", that labels this sort of emotion as unforgiveable weakness.
 Ryuji, in turn, represents the forsaking of youthful idealism for adult responsibility and the need for companionship. This makes Ryuji the embodiment of everything that Noburu and his friends aspire to and also everything that they have profound contempt for. 
 Ryuji seeks a life at sea as a young man because of his contempt for everything on land, and devotes himself to a romantic vision of death and the glory to be found in this isolated life apart. When we meet him he is beginning to realize that this abstract "glory" may not really be out there and that the comfort and stability he finds in his connection to Fusako, might make the prosaic life on land more appealing than the glorified and lonely sailor's life he has created for himself. 
 Noburu and his gang are digusted by their hero's disloyal decision to "sell out" and betray their dark and angry ideals. It is interesting because I remember that period of youth where purity is tangible and anger and pain and fundamental belief in something feels like the only logical way to account for the inequity in the world. I remember feeling like I would never become a compromised adult (or "father", as Noboru's gang would label this figure) willing to sacrifice my ideals for anemic insignificant comfort and ease. And I also remember realizing that life is really shades of gray and finding myself too old for my black and white ideals and longing for something soft to make this life more bearable and truly worth living.
 In our post-Columbine world the violence that Noburu and his friend's embrace is not that surprising. But the tragedy of their vision-- limited by their youth and their strict ideals-- is shockingly real and painstakingly well thought out. 
 
 The ideas in this book are very complex, and that complexity can make reading it difficult. (I am sure that some of this could be attributed to the fact that I was reading the book in translation.) Some of the metaphors that Mishima comes up with are incredibly graceful-- when describing the awkwardness of the reunion between Fusako and Ryuji after a long absence at sea, he writes, "Why should things proceed as smoothly as an arm slips into the sleeve of a coat unworn for half a year?". But I found his descriptions of the blossoming love between Fusako and Ryuji to be so clumsy that, given the dark critical tone of the book, I kept doubting their sincerity. 
 
 The author's note tells us that, "Yukio Mishima was born into a samurai family and imbued with the code of complete control over mind and body, and loyalty to the emperor-- the same code that produced the austerity and self-sacrifice of Zen....On November 25, 1970... Mishima committed seppuku (ritual suicide) at the age of 45." Coupled with this fact, one wonders if The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea is Mishima's account of his attempt to find meaning and principle in his own life. 
 
 
 <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/review/list/838801?utm_medium=api&utm_source=blog_review">View all my reviews.</a>

Amanda's review
rating:
bookshelves: fiction, from-the-mouths-of-babes

The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea follows the adventures of Noburu a 13 year old boy and his crazy gang of schoolmates, "all smallish, delicate boys and excellent students," who try to oppose their relative powerlessness in the world by developing a dark idealistic "philosophy" that glorifies inhumanity and emotional detachment.
We are also told the story of Fusako, Noburu's mother, the widowed proprieter of a successful high-end boutique, and her passionate affair with Ryuji, a sailor. We watch as their awkward interactions and a meaningless one night stand evolve into a tender relationship and real need for one another.
We witness Noburu's attempt to rectify the wildly confused emotional response he has when Ryuji, who he initially idolizes for his heroic life at sea, devoid of attachment, and his mother embark on a real relationship, with the credo of his "gang", that labels this sort of emotion as unforgiveable weakness.
Ryuji,...more The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea follows the adventures of Noburu a 13 year old boy and his crazy gang of schoolmates, "all smallish, delicate boys and excellent students," who try to oppose their relative powerlessness in the world by developing a dark idealistic "philosophy" that glorifies inhumanity and emotional detachment.
We are also told the story of Fusako, Noburu's mother, the widowed proprieter of a successful high-end boutique, and her passionate affair with Ryuji, a sailor. We watch as their awkward interactions and a meaningless one night stand evolve into a tender relationship and real need for one another.
We witness Noburu's attempt to rectify the wildly confused emotional response he has when Ryuji, who he initially idolizes for his heroic life at sea, devoid of attachment, and his mother embark on a real relationship, with the credo of his "gang", that labels this sort of emotion as unforgiveable weakness.
Ryuji, in turn, represents the forsaking of youthful idealism for adult responsibility and the need for companionship. This makes Ryuji the embodiment of everything that Noburu and his friends aspire to and also everything that they have profound contempt for.
Ryuji seeks a life at sea as a young man because of his contempt for everything on land, and devotes himself to a romantic vision of death and the glory to be found in this isolated life apart. When we meet him he is beginning to realize that this abstract "glory" may not really be out there and that the comfort and stability he finds in his connection to Fusako, might make the prosaic life on land more appealing than the glorified and lonely sailor's life he has created for himself.
Noburu and his gang are digusted by their hero's disloyal decision to "sell out" and betray their dark and angry ideals. It is interesting because I remember that period of youth where purity is tangible and anger and pain and fundamental belief in something feels like the only logical way to account for the inequity in the world. I remember feeling like I would never become a compromised adult (or "father", as Noboru's gang would label this figure) willing to sacrifice my ideals for anemic insignificant comfort and ease. And I also remember realizing that life is really shades of gray and finding myself too old for my black and white ideals and longing for something soft to make this life more bearable and truly worth living.
In our post-Columbine world the violence that Noburu and his friend's embrace is not that surprising. But the tragedy of their vision-- limited by their youth and their strict ideals-- is shockingly real and painstakingly well thought out.

The ideas in this book are very complex, and that complexity can make reading it difficult. (I am sure that some of this could be attributed to the fact that I was reading the book in translation.) Some of the metaphors that Mishima comes up with are incredibly graceful-- when describing the awkwardness of the reunion between Fusako and Ryuji after a long absence at sea, he writes, "Why should things proceed as smoothly as an arm slips into the sleeve of a coat unworn for half a year?". But I found his descriptions of the blossoming love between Fusako and Ryuji to be so clumsy that, given the dark critical tone of the book, I kept doubting their sincerity.

The author's note tells us that, "Yukio Mishima was born into a samurai family and imbued with the code of complete control over mind and body, and loyalty to the emperor-- the same code that produced the austerity and self-sacrifice of Zen....On November 25, 1970... Mishima committed seppuku (ritual suicide) at the age of 45." Coupled with this fact, one wonders if The Sailor Who Fell From Grace with the Sea is Mishima's account of his attempt to find meaning and principle in his own life.

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