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a study of the major works of Hayashi Fumiko Brown, Janice

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THE CELEBRATION OF STRUGGLE: A STUDY OF THE MAJOR WORKS OF HAYASHI FUMIKO by JANICE BROWN B.A., The University of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1977 M.A., The University of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1979 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY i n THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Department of Asian Studies) We accept t h i s thesis as conforming to the required standard THBOUNIVERSITY' OF B R I T I S H COLUMBIA February 1985 (c) Janice Brown, 1985 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make i t freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. Department of A£(AN 5TUP/B$ The University of British Columbia 1956 Main Mall Vancouver, Canada V6T 1Y3 Date AfrtlL tfti^ i DE-6 (3/81) i i ABSTRACT This thesis provides a c r i t i c a l evaluation of certain selected works of Hayashi Fumiko and demonstrates the unique literary achievement of this important modern Japanese woman writer who is as yet l i t t l e known in the West. This thesis contends that the element of struggle, so omnipresent in this writer's l i f e and works, is the essence of her a r t i s t i c vision. Herein, struggle is examined not only in terms of theme, char-acterization, imagery, and style but also as a major determining factor in the development and progression of narrative i t s e l f . Four principal struggles are discerned: (1) for art and beauty, (2) for love, (3) for maturity and independence, and (4) for survival. It i s shown also that the f i r s t three of these categories of struggle belong to what in Hayashifs writings may be designated as the inner world of human feeling. This inner world is opposed to and in conflict with the outer world of hardship and necessity in which the struggle for survival takes place. Five major stages in the development of Hayashifs work are proposed, and representative works are discussed in each period to illustrate the developments and modifications of the struggle element. Chapter One, dealing with the period 1922^-1930, discusses Hayashi's early poetry and her f i r s t major work, Horoki. Here, the inner struggle for art and beauty is affirmed amidst i i i the hardship of the outer struggle for survival. Chapter Two discusses the period 1931-1934,and focuses on the short stories "Fukin to sakana no machi'' and "Seihin no sho." In these works the inner struggles for love and for maturity are brought to the fore as Hayashi's early autobiographical fiction reaches the peak of lyrical expression. In Chapter Three, covering the period 1936-1942, Hayashi's change to "objective" fiction is examined, in particular her f i r s t full-length novella, Inazumaf in which the inner struggle is weakened and debilitated by the struggle with outside circumstances * Chapter Four covers the years 1946-1949, a period which represents Hayashi's fu l l matur-ity. In Ukigumo, her masterpiece, the forces of the inner struggle assume demonic proportions, overpowering the outward struggle for survival and success. In Chapter Five, Hayashi's final years, 1950-1951, are examined. Here, in Meshi, the author attempts to reconcile the dichotomies of the inner and outer elements of struggle as she portrays the lives of ordinary people, striving to find self -^fulfillment in the modern world. The thesis concludes that the element of struggle provides a primary tool by which the works of this author can be fully appraised and appreciated. By providing an explication of this element, this thesis not only offers an insight into the mechanisms of Hayashi's genius but also presents a much^ -needed introduction to and interpretation of this writer's work. TABLE OF CONTENTS iv Abstract 1 1 Acknowledgements V Introduction 1 13 Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 7 7 Chapter 3 1^'8 ^ ^ . 148 Chapter 4 201 Chapter 5 Z U J" 234 Conclusion „ ^ 240 Notes , 260 Bibliography V ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I would like to express my deepest thanks and appreciation to my supervisor, Professor Kinya Tsuruta, for his invaluable advice and consistent support throughout the writing of this thesis. Also I would like to express my gratitude to Professors John Howes and Leon Zolbrod for their useful comments and criticisms on the preparation of the text. Further thanks are due to Mr. Tsuneharu Gonnami of the Asian Studies Library, U.B.C. for his help in locating and obtaining source materials, and to Mr. Yim Tse of the same library for his calligraphic contribution to the text. The unfailing support of my husband, William Brown, i s also acknowledged with appreciation and affection. 1 INTRODUCTION With the appearance of Horoki > f< ^Lt (The Diary of a Vagabond, 1930), the b r i l l i a n t , unconventional masterpiece that was to bring instant fame to i t s precocious young author, a new literary talent, Hayashi Fumiko (1903-1951), announced her presence in the world of modern Japanese literature. Coming from the lowest rungs of society, the daughter of itinerant peddlers, this young woman of l i t t l e education and impoverished background rose out of the dismal social environment of Tokyo in the 1920's to become not only one of the brightest literary stars of this century but also one of Japan's most popular writers. Although Hayashi wrote chiefly about the lower classes of society — the poor, the hopeless, and the dispossessed — her work is nonetheless outstanding for a certain vigour and robustness that mark even the most tragic of her tales. Peopled by characters who must struggle continuously against the ad-versity of circumstance and the failure of their innermost desires; Hayashi's writings are characterized by the depiction of human existence as a never-ending battle for survival and success. While her own biography reflects a similar approach to l i f e , this attitude finds expression in her works in a 2 variety of distinctive ways. Important not only as a major thematic element, struggle and i t s concomitant features are also' significant factors in the design and progression of narrative, in the creation of character and incident, in the patterning of imagery, and indeed so pervasive i s this aspect in Hayashi's work that i t may be viewed as the single, unifying element of her a r t i s t i c vision. An understanding of the element of struggle in Hayashi's works is thus essential to an understanding and appreciation of her art. This dissertation w i l l assess Hayashi's work in terms of this unique characteristic and at the same time w i l l examine the growth and development of this writer through a c r i t i c a l evaluation of six major works which represent five proposed principal stages of her l i t e r a r y career. Aspects which w i l l be emphasized in the analyses include theme, imagery, characterization, narrative structure and technique. In Japan Hayashi Fumiko is known and loved by the reading public; yet translations of her work in English and other European languages are few and tend to focus on a handful of short stories, while the longer, major works, such as Horoki, have so far been neglected. Thus, Hayashi remains, to a great extent, untranslated and unread outside 3 her own country. The reason for this lack of recognition by Western scholars seems due, f i r s t of a l l , to the peculiar practice, both in Japan and the West, of separating modern Japanese women writers from the literary mainstream. As a result, women writers have been ignored by Western c r i t i c s who tend to concentrate for the most part solely on the work of established male writers and literary figures. While Western audiences are l i k e l y to be familiar with the works of Kawabata Yasunari (1899-1972) or Mishima Yukio i . j|j v£££,£j1 925-1970) , for example, they are equally unlikely to have any knowledge of celebrated modern Japanese women authors or, indeed, to realize that such a group of writers exists. It is only within the past few years that modern Japanese women writers have received even a modicum of attention by Western c r i t i c s and translators,"*" and such studies, although minimal, have revealed the existence of a fresh, vibrant, and innovative literary current that has too long been ignored. A second reason for the lack of recognition l i e s in the nature of Hayashi's literature i t s e l f . Her work precludes ready acceptance by Western audiences not because i t is particularly d i f f i c u l t or obscure, but, on the contrary, because i t is exceedingly frank, down-to-earth, and 4 fervently emotional, being largely devoid of the imagery and subject matter many Western readers tend to associate, whether rightly or wrongly, with Japanese literature in general. Dealing primarily with the lives and loves of plebeian society, Hayashi's work would seem to have roots not in the courtly traditions of Japanese literature, but in the colourful and li v e l y world of such early urban writers as Ihara Saikaku (1642-1693) and his tales of the townsmen classes. Nevertheless, in spite of her affinity for the lower classes and unlike many modern writers who deal with similar subjects, Hayashi does not assume any p o l i t i c a l or ideological stance and is not, therefore, a writer of what is called in Japan "proletarian literature" (puroretaria bungaku 7 a I 9 ') 7$i'f ) . Like many modern Japanese women authors, Hayashi Fumiko is not easily categorized and must be judged, f i r s t l y , within the bounds of her own literary group, that i s , modern Japanese women writers, and secondly, as a writer on her own terms. In Japan, c r i t i c a l evaluations of Hayashi's writings tend to focus primarily on her l i f e rather than on her art, and thus c r i t i c a l biographies form the majority of single volume studies on this author. Chief among these are Hayashi Fumiko no shogai; uzushio no jinsei jfrjjL j£ \ ") % ;/£ 5 — 5 i">tt "> ^  by Itagaki N a o k o ^ * ! 13 and Hayashi Fumiko ti*k& \ by Hirabayashi T a i k o - ^ ^ . / : k > J . As y e t , no s i n g l e volume l i t e r a r y study of Hayashi 's works has appeared i n Japanese or i n E n g l i s h . A r t i c l e s and essays on Hayashi also tend to s t r e s s , with some exceptions, biography over l i t e r a r y a n a l y s i s . Since the story of Hayashi 's l i f e , tempestuous and extraordinary as i t was, e a s i l y r i v a l s that of any of her f i c t i o n a l heroines , the b i o g r a p h i c a l emphasis i s understandable, i f not e n t i r e l y j u s t i f i a b l e . Nevertheless , Hayashi, more so perhaps than many w r i t e r s , i{£ i n c l i n e d to s u f f e r from undue a t tent ion to her l i f e at the expense of her works. So widespread i s t h i s tendency and so compelling must Hayashi have been as a person that one c o l l e c t i o n of l i t e r a r y essays on Hayashi Fumiko also includes two short 2 novellas by other wr i ters based on Hayashi 's own l i f e . Besides the accent on c r i t i c a l biography, Japanese c r i t i c s f requently discuss Hayashi and her works i n comparison with other women wri ters of the same p e r i o d , most notably with the p r o l e t a r i a n w r i t e r , Miyamoto Yuriko % ^ % ^ \ (1899-1951), and with the anarchist author, Hirabayashi Taiko ^fot~*>\ (1905-1972), who was also Hayashi 's long-time f r i e n d and biographer. S t r i k i n g l y d i f f e r e n t i n s t y l e and l i t e r a r y outlook, the w r i t i n g s of 6 these three women share l i t t l e in common except perhaps to illustrate the great variety of women's writing during the 1930's and 1940's in Japan. Nakamura Mitsuo tfiiJuK , however, sees Hayashi as representing the emotive or "feminine" side of modern women's literature, while Miyamoto and Hirabayashi represent the intellectual or "masculine." While such contrasts and comparisons are by no means completely satisfactory as literary c r i t i c a l devices, Nakamura's observation does provide some insight into the nature of Hayashi's work with regard to her literary colleagues. That i s , while Miyamoto and Hirabayashi focus upon p o l i t i c a l and social issues in their writings, Hayashi does not. Instead, in company with other women authors such as Okamoto Kanoko l$\&il°> 7 (1889-1939) and Uno Chiyo 'f* f"t "f"^Xi (1897- ), Hayashi chooses to base her literature upon the depiction of the innermost feelings and sensibilities of men and women in.love. In this respect at least, Hayashi shares common ground with the great classical women writers of the past whose outstanding a b i l i t y to evoke the nuances of human emotion set the standards for a l l subsequent Japanese literature. While Hayashi's literary career was relatively brief, spanning a l i t t l e over twenty years, i t exhibits a number of significant shifts and modifications that make any 7 accurate evaluation of her works a f a i r l y complicated matter. Chief among these i s the transition early in her career from poetry to prose. F i r s t published as a poet in the 1920'sf Hayashi was slow to make the change to fict i o n a l writing, experimenting with dowa ^  %fa (children's tales) and with the poetic diary format in Horoki before producing her f i r s t prose works in the early 1930's. Horoki, the f i r s t work to bring Hayashi success, i s considered to be her maiden work and w i l l be discussed herein as the work most representative of this earliest stage of Hayashi's career, the period 1922-1930. Remarkable not only for i t s mixture of poetry and prose, Horoki also chronicles Hayashi's early struggles to achieve success as a poet and author. This autobiographical emphasis with i t s focus on the l i f e and loves of a young, poverty-stricken poetess ensured Horoki's great popularity and helped establish Hayashi as an important woman writer early in her career. In Horoki, Hayashi ut i l i z e d a number of themes and techniques which she would continue to develop in her work as time went on. Of prime importance in this regard was the contrast between the outer struggle for survival and the inner struggle for a r t i s t i c success. Hayashi depicted such struggles as mutually antagonistic, , showing the outward demands of society and the inner dictates of the a r t i s t i c experience 8 to be irreconcilably at odds. Nevertheless, with a panache and boldness of s p i r i t that i s surely one of the great charms of this work, the young Horoki protagonist triumphs over every setback as the inner struggle for art and beauty is reaffirmed amid the degradation of extreme poverty and hardship. In the years immediately following the publication of Horoki, Hayashi continued to experiment with autobiographical fi c t i o n as she struggled to find her niche in the literary world of the day. During this period 1931-1934, Hayashi produced a number of excellent poetic-autobiographical pieces which represent the peak of her achievement in this literary mode. Two representative works, the short stories "Fukin to sakana.no machi" l i l ^ t .& °> v*X (Accordion and Fish Town, 1931) and "Seihin no sho" J"J \ *> ~% (A Record of Honourable Poverty, 1931) have been chosen to illustrate Hayashi's accomplishment at this stage in her career and, further, to underline new developments in the use of the element of struggle. In "Fukin to sakana no machi," for example, the inner struggle centres upon a bid for personal growth and maturity as the realm of child and adult are brought into c o n f l i c t , while in "Seihin no sho" the inner struggle i s that of the search for fulfillment in love. 9 While this story marks the culmination of Hayashi's early l y r i c a l prose works, both pieces disclose two further depictions of the inner struggle which, together with the struggle for beauty, would remain as constant factors in Hayashi's work, undergoing but slight alteration throughout the rest of her career. Hayashi's fine sense of the inner struggle as a poetic battle waged against the forces of destitution and adversity is amply revealed in these two exceptional early stories. By the mid-1930's Hayashi's career underwent another significant change of direction. Turning away from the poetic-autobiographical f i c t i o n which had brought her so much acclaim, Hayashi began work on naturalistic, "objective" novels, focusing upon the domestic situations of the urban lower classes. In the works of this third period 1935-1942, Hayashi depicts the struggles of women as they attempt to overcome the constricting circumstances of their lives and find their own happiness. In contrast to the bright and optimistic writings of Hayashi's f i r s t and second periods, third-period works, such as the representative Tnazuma fcq %; (Lightning, 1936), are unexpectedly dark and gloomy. Here, the inner struggle for maturity and independence i s overwhelmed by the struggle with outer circumstances as Hayashi's intrepid heroines f a i l to find satisfactory solutions to their desperate 10 situations. Hayashi continued to plumb s t i l l further the depths of darkness and misery as she chronicled the grief and hardship brought by war and i t s aftermath in her novels and stories of the fourth period, 1946-1949. After the rigorous censorship of the war years, during which Hayashi wrote l i t t l e , the end of the war saw an incredible increase in Hayashi's literary production. During these years, Hayashi's literature reached i t s f u l l maturity as a variety of excellent works followed one another in rapid succession. Foremost among these i s the work which may be considered Hayashi's masterpiece, Ukigumo >"| (Drifting Clouds, 1949). One of Hayashi's most tragic stories, Ukigumo is also one of her most complex. In a reversal of earlier themes and motifs, Ukigumo depicts the destruction of the outer struggle for survival by the inner forces of struggle as the protagonists pursue an unattainable beauty and happiness. Here, struggle becomes a mere exercise in f u t i l i t y as every action and incident seems destined to end in defeat. Just as the earlier "Seihin no sho" represented the apex of Hayashi's accomplishment in the earlier periods of her career, so does Ukigumo represent the peak of Hayashi's achievement in her later years. Not only does Ukigumo s k i l l f u l l y weld the various elements of past works into 11 a new whole, i t also represents a major s t y l i s t i c triumph in which Hayashi?s poetic sensibility finds i t s fullest expression within the prose medium. Although there i s evidence of further development in Hayashi*s subsequent writings, her work was never again to attain such heights as those reached by Ukigumo. In the last months of her l i f e , Hayashi continued to sustain her p r o l i f i c literary output. At the same time, much of her work began to exhibit fresh interests and new concerns. In this f i f t h and last period 1950-1951, Hayashi turned her attention once again to the domestic arena, and in novels like Meshi L (Meals, 1951) which recall the works of the third period, she depicts the inner struggles of ordinary people as they search for self-fulfillment in the modern world. Circumscribed not so much by the darkness and misfortune engendered by the struggle with outer circum-stances as by the tedium of such a struggle, the protagonists of Meshi strive to come to terms with themselves and with each other as the author herself attempts a reconciliation of the inner and outer struggles. Unfortunately, Hayashi's early death cut short not only her work on Meshi which remains unfinished, but also any further attempt to resolve further the conflicts and dichotomies which characterize her work and which, in the fin a l analysis, 12 lend i t i t s individual flavour. In order to discern more clearly the exact nature of Hayashi's art and thus of her contribution to modern Japanese literature, the above stages of Hayashi's career w i l l now be examined in greater detail with particular attention to the representative work or works relevant to each proposed stage. Although this dissertation focuses primarily upon the literary evaluation and criticism of Hayashi's works, certain pertinent biographical material w i l l also be presented, not only to aid in the understanding and appreciation of her works, particularly the early autobiographical f i c t i o n , but also to show how Hayashi's own experience of struggle and hardship came to be incor-porated into a singular and unconventional a r t i s t i c consciousness that was to raise both Hayashi and her literature from the depths of ignominy to a place of prominence among the writers of modern Japan. CHAPTER 1 13 EARLY YEARS: THE POET-VAGABOND OF HOROKI, 1922-1930 Early Life: The Poetic Substratum Marked by the hardship and instability engendered by the necessity of constant travel, Hayashi's early l i f e with her peddler parents offered l i t t l e opportunity for the development of literary a b i l i t y or, indeed, for the development of any talent outside the daily struggle for existence. Instead, Hayashi lived on the fringes of society in extreme poverty amid the homeless and outcast. Deprived not only of economic and domestic security, Hayashi also lacked the stability of a conventional family background. Born 31 December 1903 in Moji, a town situated in Fukuoka Prefecture across the strait from Shimonoseki, she was entered in the Hayashi family register as Fumiko ( 7 ; 3 ) , daughter of Kiku (b. 1867). Since Kiku's marriage was not legitimized, the father's name was not recorded. Hayashi's father, Miyata Asataro, was the eldest son of a farming family in Ehime Prefecture. He and Kiku met 14 at the Hayashi family's hot spring hotel on Sakurajima in Kyushu, and after a brief l i a i s o n , they l e f t Sakurajima together to take up th<e wandering l i f e of peddlers. After Fumiko's bir t h , Asataro found work in pawnshop auctions in Shimonoseki, and eventually, due to his considerable business acumen, he opened his own shop in that same city with branches in Wakamatsu, Kumamoto, and Nagasaki. In spite of his success, however, he never formally recognized Kiku as his wife nor Fumiko as his daughter. In 1907 Asataro moved his headquarters from Shimonoseki to Wakamatsu, taking along his family and chief clerk, Sawai Kisaburo. Three years later, when Fumiko was seven years old, this attempt at settled family l i f e f e l l apart. Asataro began making arrangements to move a local geisha into the household, and Kiku together with the clerk Kisaburo l e f t the house one snowy New Year's night, taking Fumiko with them. They went f i r s t to Nagasaki, but by the next year, 1911, they were back in Shimonoseki, where Fumiko began primary school again for the second or third time."L Although Kiku and Kisaburo lived together until his death in 1933, they had no children of their own, perhaps due in part to the fact that Kiku was some twenty years older than Kisaburo. The unconventional and indomitable Kiku was to exert a life-long influence on her daughter, 15 and the two remained exceptionally close a l l their l i v e s . Kisaburo, in contrast to Asataro, treated his foster daughter, Fumiko, with great affection and kindness, as 2 i f she were in fact his own child. Not as good a businessman as Asataro, however, Kisaburo was soon bankrupt, and in 1914 he and Kiku began to make their living as peddlers. Fumiko was sent to live with her maternal grandmother in Kagoshima but soon returned to her mother and foster father and spent the next two years travelling about the countryside with them. Although most of her young l i f e had been spent in almost constant movement, Hayashi's early wanderings were about to draw to a close. In May 1916 Hayashi, now thirteen years of age, and her peddler parents arrived in Onomichi, a small seaside town located on the Inland Sea almost halfway between Okayama and Hiroshima. Here, Hayashi was to live for the next six years, attending high school and li v i n g a more or less settled l i f e . A vagabond, indeed, from her earliest years, Hayashi was considered an eccentric by her classmates and had few friends. Her f i r s t short story, "Fukin to sakana no machi," which w i l l be discussed in Chapter Two, describes this period of her l i f e . Although Hayashi was the product of a l i f e - s t y l e alien to that of the ordinary Japanese schoolgirl, she 16 early showed ab i l i t y in music, painting, and literature, talents which were noticed and encouraged by one of the teachers in her elementary school, Kobayashi Masao. Koba-yashi was instrumental in getting Hayashi's parents to send her to the Onomichi G i r l s ' High School, which Hayashi entered in 1918 at the age of fifteen. Here, Hayashi made her f i r s t attempts at literary creation: she began to write l y r i c a l poetry, a pastime which would become the foundation of a literary career. Upon graduation from high school in 1922 at the age of nineteen, Hayashi l e f t Onomichi alone for Tokyo, intent upon marrying a local boy who was a student at Meiji University in Tokyo. The young man, Okano Gun'ichi, came from a f a i r l y prosperous land-owning family on the island of In (In no shima). Although the Okano family did not approve of the match, Hayashi determined to marry Gun'ichi and went to Tokyo with this as her f i r s t p r i o r i t y . ' Pursuit 3 of a literary career was secondary. While waitxng for Gun'ichi to finish school, Hayashi took a variety of jobs. She worked in a bath house, in a shoe shop, in an electrical goods shop, in a celluloid factory, as a clerk in a mailing business and in a stockbroker's, and f i n a l l y as a waitress in a cafe. Although the two did not live together, on several occasions Hayashi helped Gun'ichi with expenses. 17 Soon after her arrival in Tokyo, Hayashi's parents joined her and started up a business dealing in secondhand clothes. From time to time Hayashi helped them with the work. This humble occupation as well as Hayashi's other temporary employment would be vividly portrayed in the pages of Horoki, where the young protagonist must struggle through a similar succession of low-paying jobs just to survive. Gun'ichi, too, would appear in Horoki. After His graduation that same year (1922), he decided not to marry Fumiko, due primarily to repeated opposition from his family. This faithless f i r s t love appeared in Horoki as the "man from the island," the f i r s t of many similar male figures in Hayashi's works: indecisive and self-centred young men incapable of any passionate long-term commitment. When the Great Kanto Earthquake devastated Tokyo in September 1923, Hayashi was forced to evacuate to Osaka. Later she and her parents were re-united in Shikoku where she began to keep a diary, calling i t "Utanikki" $ (poetic diary); later, i t became Horoki. Also at this time Hayashi began to use the pen name she was to become is the character for a type of rose mallow or hibiscus with large pink and white flowers. The character for mi j( i s the character for "beauty." Hayashi's love for beautiful flowers not only influenced her choice of pen known by: Hayashi Fumiko The character fu ^ 18 name but also provided a source of inspiration for images that recur throughout her works. Many of Hayashi's novels and short stories bear flower names as ti t l e s , while the poem that became her epitaph praises flowers in a traditional Japanese way, yet with a characteristic Hayashi touch: The l i f e of a flower is brief fil l e d only with the pain of countless sufferings. 4 In spite of the i n i t i a l emphasis on the ephemerality of beauty in this poem, the poet seems less interested in transience than in the struggle to survive. Rather than a feeling of despair, this poem imparts a sense of the teeming vitality of a l l existence where trouble and strife are the order of the day and where, but for struggle and pain, the flower and its beauty would not exist. For Hayashi, both in her final poem and throughout a l l her works, struggle is the essence of lif e and the means by which art and beauty come into being. Not one to be discouraged by previous hardship, Hayashi in 1924 again returned to Tokyo. There she found a job as maid in the household of the writer Chikamatsu Shuko i i t f ^ i f ^ * (1876-1944), but dissatisfied after two weeks, she left and again worked at a number of insignificant 19 occupations. During this time she became acquainted with Tabe Yoshio, a shingeki j r ^ ^ ' l (new drama) actor, poet, and singer, and the two lived together for a short period. Through Tabe, Hayashi met various anarchist poets and writers who congregated above a French-style restaurant in the Hongo section of Tokyo. This group included such writers as Tsuboi Shigeji '3£ 4 (1898- ) , his wife, Tsuboi Sakae ( 1 9 0 0 * 1 9 6 7 ) , Okamoto Jun l£] ^  >#] (1901- ) , and Hagiwara Kyojiro j^f$. %p ;£ f.f ( 1 8 9 9 - 1 9 3 8 ) . Anarchistic ideas as well as the writers and poets who espoused them were to have a decided influence on Hayashi*s writings, particularly on her early poetry and also to a - - 5 certain extent on Horoki. Among this group of people, Hayashi also met Hirabayashi Taiko with whom she became fast friends. In later years Taiko would undertake the task of writing a biography of Hayashi, primarily from the standpoint of Hayashi's love a f f a i r s . The relationship with Tabe, however, was short-lived. Tabe was involved with an actress when he met Hayashi and soon returned to his mistress after three months. When Tabe l e f t , Hayashi went to live in student lodgings. There, together with the poet Tomotani Shizue ^L<£"ff whom she had met also through her association with Tabe, she began in July 1924 to publish a small poetry pamphlet entitled 20 Futari ~ During i t s short existence, Futari published a number of Hayashi's poems, including one of I've fallen in love with Lord Buddha. When I kiss his cool lips ah, I'm so undeserving, my heart is benumbed. So unworthy am I, from head to toe my calm blood flows against i t s tide. Seated on the lotus so composed and graceful, his manly bearing bewitches my soul. 0, Lord Buddha, you're not paying any attention to me'I 0, Lord Buddha, I don't believe itfs your intention to let into my heart, broken like a bee's nest, the ultimate understanding of the cruelty of your chanted prayer. With your manly bearing leap into my flaming breast. Stained by earthly l i f e i s this woman. Embrace her unto death. g 0, blessed Lord Buddha. Erotic and f l i r t a t i o u s , "Oshaka-sama" is generally . . . - 7 supposed to have been written with Tabe in mind. ' Here, in what seems to be a parting tribute to the man who both influenced and encouraged her early poetic career, Hayashi s k i l l f u l l y and effectively contrasts the tempestuousness of human passion with the static perfection of the divine. her best known early pieces, (Lord Buddha, 1924): 21 Imagining herself involved in an irregular and rather impetuous love affa i r with the Lord Buddha, the poetess kisses his lips and finds herself benumbed, her blood flows backwards, her heart i s broken, she begs for his embrace; yet the Lord Buddha remains cool and impervious, sitting on his lotus seat. Hayashi, however, is captivated not by the Buddha's spiritual attributes, but rather by his "manliness" (otokoburi), that i s , his physical qualities. It i s the man she loves, not the god. Hayashi also t e l l s us that human love i s violent, chaotic, demanding, yet f r a i l and perhaps longs for some perfect, beautiful, and essentially unattainable ideal. From this time onward, in both prose and poetry, the search for a "pure" or "true" love was to become a consistent thematic feature of Hayashi's work. Tabe himself also had poetry published. Some of his poems appeared in the left-wing literary magazine Bungei  sens en ^ & during the summer of 1924, and in the August issue, Hayashi made her own formal literary debut with a poem entitled "Joko no utaeru" ~k °> ot\ ^ h (Song of a Woman Factory Worker): Although I am poor I think of flying up into the sky-I - my legs are anchored with iron chains! 22 In j a i l my view i s o b s t r u c t e d ! - through a s m a l l window -the t r e m b l i n g of one green l e a f teaches me the b r e a d t h of the g r e a t s k y . Don't make a f o o l of me! I b e l i e v e i n my s t r e n g t h . Even though I am poor, I am s t r o n g . I am not s a d . Because of t h i s p o v e r t y , Because of my s o l i t a r y s t r e n g t h , l i k e a worm s l o w l y c r a w l i n g f o r the sake of x x x, day a f t e r day I l i v e i n torment. Between my clamped l i p s my back t e e t h s t r i k e out sparks i n unbearable v e x a t i o n g and are g r a d u a l l y worn down. When we compare "Joko no u t a e r u " w i t h "Oshaka-sama," we f i n d the same l y r i c a l e g o c e n t r i c i t y and p r e f e r e n c e f o r c o r p o r e a l images; y e t here the language e x h i b i t s much l e s s s o p h i s t i c a t i o n , and i n s t e a d of e r o t i c i s m , we encounter Hayashi's tremendous f o r c e f u l n e s s f o r the f i r s t t i m e . I n f l u e n c e d t o a c e r t a i n e x t e n t by the p o l e m i c a l s t y l e of p r o l e t a r i a n w r i t i n g then i n vogue i n Japan, H a y a s h i , i n "Joko no u t a e r u , " c r i e s out i n c l a u s t r o p h o b i c f r u s t r a t i o n at the p r i s o n - l i k e atmosphere of a f a c t o r y f l o o r . Y e t , u n l i k e p r o l e t a r i a n w r i t e r s i n g e n e r a l , Hayashi employs no p o l i t i c a l r h e t o r i c ; n e i t h e r does she espouse such causes as brotherhood or humanity, nor does she demand j u s t i c e . I n s t e a d , she a f f i r m s her own i n d i v i d u a l i t y and p e r s o n a l s t r e n g t h i n the f a c e of overwhelming p o v e r t y and d e s t i t u t i o n . 23 In a display of astonishing visceral force, Hayashi's vitality bursts forth from every line. Although this poem lacks the later refinement of her other poetry in a similar vein, i t is nonetheless remarkable as an expression of Hayashi's extraordinary determination to survive and succeed. Even in the most hopeless of occupations, she manages to endure, emitting sparks of vital energy like some powerful, indefatigable living machine. After the publication of "3"oko no utaeru," Hayashi continued her struggle to live and to write. By the end of 1924, she had found a new love interest, twenty-three-year-old Nomura Kichiya, an anarchist poet and writer. Hayashi and Nomura were to live together for two years, but this arrangement proved to be even more disastrous than the ill-fated union with Tabe. Constantly without money and unable to make a satisfactory living from writing, Nomura often vented his anger and frustration on Hayashi by beating her. To help make ends meet, Hayashi worked as a cafe waitress and, together with her friend Hirabayashi Taiko, went from publisher to publisher trying to sell her children's stories and poetry, but with l i t t l e luck. The final split came in 1926 when Nomura left Hayashi to marry someone else. Hayashi and Taiko then lived together over a sake shop, worked as waitresses, and continued to write. 24 Taiko was the f i r s t to achieve success when her short story " A z a k e r u " 4 > (Insult, 1926) won a prize sponsored by the Osaka Mainichi newspaper. Later that year, Hayashi met the man who would become her third husband, Tezuka Ryokubin (b. 1902). Tezuka was the second son of a farmer from Nagano Prefecture and also a Western-style painter. The couple were married in December 1926 and began a happy but impoverished l i f e together. "Seihin no sho," which w i l l be discussed in Chapter Two, deals with this period in Hayashi's l i f e . In the same month as her marriage, Hayashi also published her poem "Kurushii uta" ~£ C 1 k (Song in Distress, 1926) in the magazine Bungei ichiba TJ» In t h i s , which may be considered one of her best as well as one of her most characteristic poems, Hayashi cries out against the poverty and hardship of her l i f e : Neighbours, relatives, lovers -what are they to me? If that which we eat in l i f e is not satisfying the pretty flowers we have painted w i l l wither. Though I want to work cheerfully I squat so pathetically small amidst a l l kinds of curses. I try to raise both arms high but w i l l they a l l betray such a pretty woman? I cannot always hug dolls and keep silen t . 25 Even i f I am hungry or without work I must not shout Wo-o! Lest the fortunate ones knit their brows. Although I spit blood and die in agony the earth certainly won't stop in i t s tracks. They are preparing healthy bullets one after another. In the show window there i s freshly baked bread. Ah, how lightly beautiful like the sound of a piano is the world I've never known. Then a l l at once, « I feel like crying out, god damn i t ! Unable to keep silent like the clenched-mouth factory worker of her earlier poem, Hayashi now curses her own helplessness in a world that threatens to destroy her. At the same time, she i s a l l too painfully aware of the delicacy and beauty of that same world that seems to l i e forever beyond her reach. This beautiful world was brought closer, however, when Hayashi's friend, the author and playwright Hasegawa Shigure "1 ^  fa (1879-1941), launched the magazine Nyonin geijutsu -jjfA. jUj in July 1928 and began to publish the f i r s t installments of Horoki in October of that same year. At the early age of twenty-five, Hayashi's success was assured. Yet the pathetically crouching female figure of "Kurushii uta," once created, was never to be abandoned. In spite of Hayashi's continued successes throughout her l i f e , both in literature and in journalism, this victimized 26 yet passionately determined creature continued to appear again and again in poems, novels, and stories as a stock Hayashi character. "Kurushii uta," in spite of i t s tone of despair, exhibits a fierce v i t a l i t y that belies the poet's confessed vulnerability. Ready to cast aside family, friends, and lovers i f she can but satisfy her tremendous appetite for l i f e , the poet finds herself hindered at every turn. As she recounts the numerous d i f f i c u l t i e s that beset her, her sense of outrage and frustration increases. Refusing to give in or accept her fate, she bursts out in an expression of defiance, and thus, by the end of the poem, we no longer visualize her squatting amidst curses. Instead, she herself calls out a curse, and thereby establishes the primacy of her own existence. This f i n a l imprecation reveals a strength and robustness that, instead of negating the poet's experience, reaffirms her own tremendous w i l l as well as her unending struggle against a l l hardship. From this point onward, the depiction of such struggles, rooted firmly in the destitution and distress of Hayashi's early l i f e experience, would continue to form the basis of her work, imparting to her literature a powerful v i t a l i t y that challenges continually l i f e ' s pain and suffering. 27 Horoki - The Diary of a Vagabond Horoki i s an autobiographical work in diary form. It is divided into three parts. Depicting the hardships and sufferings of Hayashi Fumiko in her early years, Horoki recounts her attempts, f i r s t of a l l , to gain recognition as a poet and, f i n a l l y , when this f a i l s , as a writer of short stories and novellas. A kind of "portrait of the art i s t , " Horoki deals with actual people and events in Hayashi's early l i f e and records her early a r t i s t i c struggles. Although Horoki purports to be autobiography, i t i s also a work of fi c t i o n in which characters and events have been carefully manipulated to suit the author's purpose. Hayashi alters her own birth date, for example. She t e l l s us she was born in May, when in actual fact she was born in December. In this particular passage, Fumiko"^ and her mother are eking out a bare existence together in Tokyo, Fumiko sits out on the verandah in the April sun, watching the spring haze climb up from the dark earth. I t ' l l soon be May, she thinks, I was born in May.''"''' Like the spring haze which dr i f t s over the land, Fumiko, too, seems to have been born of the mists that wander here and there, close to the earth but never settling. Given the wandering 28 (horo / f< ) motif of Horoki, this birth among the drifting haze of late spring is thematically as well as poetically more effective than a birth in the cold, stagnant days of late December. In other instances, actual events are considerably altered or-otherwise exaggerated to create more dramatically satisfying situations. Tabe Yoshio, for example, is one figure that suffers considerable v i l i f i c a t i o n for the sake of art. Identified only as the "Tokyo actor," Tabe i s portrayed as a bit of a cad who pretends great poverty so that Fumiko w i l l go to work. " I ' l l soon have nothing l e f t to eat. I'd join any troup at a l l , but I have my pride," 12 I Tabe t e l l s Fumiko. 'Tabe, however, is concealing savings of two^thousand yen which Fumiko finds one night. In later years, Tabe was to maintain that the sum was not his, but represented the expense money for the travelling troupe of 13 which he was a member. At any rate, whatever the truth of the matter, Hayashi ut i l i z e s this incident to underline two of her principal motifs, the selfishness of men and the basic disjunctiveness of male-female relationships. Most notable of Hayashi's fictionalizing devices i s the rearrangement of actual events to suit the author's own fictional chronology. This technique i s of special 29 significance in the evaluation of structure in Horoki as well as in an assessment of the role of Nomura, Hayashi's second husband. It thus requires a closer examination of the text i t s e l f . The Horoki text has had almost as chequered a career as the female figure i t portrays. Originally published in serial form in Nyonin geijutsu from October 1928 to October-14 - -1930, Horoki was subsequently divided into two sections entitled "Horoki" and "Zoku Horoki" and published as two single volumes by Kaizosha in 1930. By 1939 these two sections had become Part I and Part II of what was then termed the f i n a l edition (ketteiban £ tiK ) of Horoki. S t i l l later, after World War II when the old censorship laws were l i f t e d , Part III was added to complete the work as i t now stands. Part III was not a later piece of writing, however, but had been written during the same time span as Parts I and I I . It had never been published due to the author's fear of censorship. A l l three parts of Horoki are in the form of a diary which covers a time span of about five years. The entries consist of poetry and prose, beginning with the narrator's birth in Shimonoseki and moving from a provincial childhood to young womanhood in Tokyo where she goes with the intention of seeking her fortune. This search proves 30 arduous as Fumiko soon discovers. Forced to work in only the most menial jobs, Fumiko lives in squalor. Poetry, reading, and writing become her only escape. She manages to write children's stories which occasionally s e l l , but she has no luck with her poetry, or indeed, with anything else. Always on the move, unable to settle, she floats from job to job and also from man to man. Her relationships with women are also unstable. The only lasting human attachment Fumiko has is the link with her parents in the country, particularly her mother whom she often v i s i t s and to whom she sends money she can i l l afford. Although she never loses sight of her two-fold goal: to make a great deal of money and to become a successful poet, Fumiko seldom meets with any circumstances which indicate that such a possibility i s even remotely l i k e l y . She herself acknowledges this as we can see in the following poetic excerpt from Part I: What is in my heart? Money, money, money is necessary! Money makes the world go round, they say but no matter how I work ^5 i t doesn't go round for me... Fumiko is truly down and out; her l i f e in chaos. Ill-treated by men, cheated by others, out of work and hungry one day, finding a job in a cafe and getting drunk the next, Fumiko 31 moves through a violent and decadent world over which she has no control. Eventually, driven by despair and loneli-ness, Fumiko attempts suicide, but the sleeping medicine doesn't work, and she li v e s . Deciding then and there to give up her l i f e in the cafes, she determines to devote herself to literature, and in the f i n a l section, we see her writing and living the peddler's l i f e once again with her beloved parents who have brought their business to Tokyo. Unfortunately, her many unpublished manuscripts, 16 which look like "rainbows" to her eyes, have yet to be accepted for publication. Horoki ends with a poem about finding a two-sen coin and the narrator imagining what delicious treats i t w i l l buy. This, then, is the stuff Horoki i s made of — a seemingly random selection of diary entries portraying a few years in the highly irregular l i f e of an ingenuous, self-indulgent, romantic young woman. These qualities do not offend the reader. On the contrary, we are soon charmed by Fumiko's naivete and impressed by her sheer dauntlessness in the face of constant setbacks and almost unrelenting misery and poverty. The chaotic l i f e - s t y l e portrayed in Horoki is concom-itant with the overall structure of the work: a diary with sporadic entries. Actual dates are seldom given. Although 32 at times months follow one another consecutively, there also may be gaps of one, two, or even six months. Events described in one time period do not necessarily continue into the next time period, and new episodes often begin abruptly. Referred to by most Japanese c r i t i c s as either 17 18 a "diary" or an "autobiographical novel in diary form," Horoki seems too fragmentary to be classified as a novel. In some respects, unity and continuity are lacking. This is no doubt due in part to the manner in which i t was written, being hurriedly jotted down at different places 19 and at different times over a four- to five-year period. While this may imply the author has no story to t e l l , this impression is incorrect. However fragmented i t may be and however much i t may lack a conventionally ordered narrative structure, Horoki emerges as an exceptional piece of f i c t i o n . It reveals, upon closer examination, a unique narrative and thematic framework which gives cohesion and solidity to an otherwise amorphous composition. In order to see how such a framework helps support and sustain the narrative, i t i s necessary f i r s t of a l l to examine the structural relationship between Part I and Part II in some d e t a i l . In Part I, events follow a linear time scale; one expects Part II to continue in the same manner 33 since Part II is the original "Zoku Horoki" or "Horoki Continued." However, this expectation is not f u l f i l l e d . Part II i s not a continuation but i s a kind of supplementary account that f i l l s in sections l e f t out in Part I. For example, Part I begins with a short prologue entitled "Horoki izen" in which we are given a brief picture of the narrator's early l i f e . The main story line of Horoki then 20 begins in December 1922 when Fumiko is fired from her job as maid in the house of Chikamatsu Shuko. It then progresses through accounts of her subsequent l i f e in Tokyo, the relationship with the Tokyo actor, her travels in Osaka and Kyoto, and her eventual return to Tokyo to live with a young g i r l friend, Toki-chan. Part I covers roughly a three-year time span which comes to a close in 1926 with Toki's departure to live with a man who has bought her a ring and a coat. At the same time Fumiko receives payment for a children's story she has written. Part II tacks back almost to where the main story of Part I began, but begins one month later in January 1923 with Fumiko's journey to In no shima to v i s i t the "man from the island." Part II then proceeds to f i l l in some of the blank spaces of Part I and ends with Fumiko's suicide attempt one month after Toki-chan's departure. Thus, Part II covers almost exactly the same time period as Part I, 34 and both of these sections could be combined into one long chronological section by rearranging the various episodes. Part III, on the other hand, continues onwards from Part II as a true "Zoku Horoki." Beginning in March shortly after Fumiko*s recovery from the suicide attempt, Part III deals with Fumiko's f i r s t and unsuccessful attempt to publish her poetry collection Aouma o mi tar i .hj £ JL^ l) (I Saw a Pale Horse, 1929), her decision to give up poetry in favour of the novel, her relationship with Nomura, and her eventual return to peddling with her mother in Tokyo. Of these events, the relationship with Nomura is of parti-cular importance. This a f f a i r demonstrates one of the minor inconsistencies in Horoki and highlights Hayashi's d i f f i c u l t y in maintaining a conventional chronology given the complexity of structure. At the same time, the relationship with Nomura provides an important turning point in the narrative, bringing to the fore Fumiko*s struggle for a r t i s t i c success. For example, in Parts I and I I , there are several veiled references to a "man" or "husband" with whom Fumiko has a d i f f i c u l t and trying relationship. Various biographers 21 identify this man as Nomura, -; yet Fumiko does not make his identity clear, and Nomura does not appear as himself until 35 Part III. Although the appearance of this man in Parts I and II does not coincide with what the reader knows of Fumiko's l i f e at these points in the story, his introduction is not necessarily incongruous. The introduction of this unidentified "man" serves to express a truth that, in terms of the Horoki narrative, i s as valid as the truth of reality i t s e l f ; that i s , this figure appears as just one more failure in a long line of Fumiko's unsatisfactory relation-ships. By his very anonymity, he seems to underline the fact that men in general are somehow inimical to the heroine. When Nomura is identified and enters the story in Part III, i t is as a poet and writer, which i s in keeping with the tenor of this last section in which Fumiko's literary struggle is. emphasized. Itagaki Naoko speculates that Hayashi hesitated to identify Nomura in Part I and Part II because he was s t i l l alive when those sections were being 22 published. Aesthetically speaking, however, the appearance of Nomura as Fumiko's disgruntled husband throughout most of Horoki would certainly alter the thrust of the narrative and detract from the image of Fumiko as the solitary, struggling a r t i s t . When Nomura appears in Part III, he is the last as well as the worst of Fumiko's lovers, and thus the heroine's eventual commitment to art is made a l l the more understandable. 36 In effect, Parts I and II could each stand alone as separate accounts of the same time period. Their placement together, however, makes them interact in an interesting fashion. For example, certain episodes or events in Part II are foreshadowed in Part I. In one of these instances towards the end of Part I, Fumiko recalls the time she lived with Hirabayashi Taiko above a sake shop. We do not learn any more about this period in Fumiko*s l i f e u ntil the end of Part I I , where the entire episode i s presented. In another example from the beginning of Part I, Fumiko writes a letter to the "man from the island"; yet this figure does not appear in the story until the beginning of Part I I . Because of this interlocking chronology, foreshadings such as these refer not to the future but to the past, and the event i t s e l f , when i t appears, does not forward the action but reflects back upon i t . Although Part II in i t s entirety might be considered a series of flashbacks that interlock with Part I, the necessary links are not scrupulously maintained. Much of the material presented in Part II has no direct connection with events in Part I. Such connections as noted above, however, are at their strongest both at the beginning and at the end of Parts I and I I . This gives cohesion to a loose and potentially confusing chronology. At the same 37 time, i t sets distinct parameters within which the narrative must take place. Within these boundaries, the interweaving of events has the effect of disrupting not only the normal flow of time but also any ordered motion in space. Fumiko is now here, now there. Governed as much by whim as by circumstance, her movements from place to place are erratic; no job or lodging is ever stable; seldom does one location lead logically to the next. The reader i s forced to surrender to a chaotic and disordered world where time moves by f i t s and starts, now forward, now backward. One cheap, shabby room is soon replaced by another, and characters, too, fade in and out with great rapidity. Besides providing an intriguing narrative structure that emphasizes the disjointedness of Fumiko's world, the interlocking segments of Parts I and II can be seen further as continually intertwining strands that form a kind of "plaited" narrative where past and present flow together side by side. This creates a density of incident and atmosphere that draws the reader ever deeperyinto the fabric of Fumiko's chaotic world. Thus, diary entries in Part I are laid down f i r s t as a kind of rough warp through which the diary entries of Part II are interwoven. From this textual accretion grow the diary entries of Part III. 38 Such a framework provides a sense of compactness, yet at the same time maintains a fl u i d pattern of growth and development. Although Hayashi does not make use of such an unconventional arrangement again in her writings, this technique may be seen as the earliest attempt to treat effectively the interplay of past and present within a narrative format. Such a technique Hayashi would not master until much later in such works as "Bangiku" (Late Chrysanthemum, 1948) and Ukigumo. Besides i t s complexity of structure, Horoki also exhibits a f a i r l y involved process of narrative development. Deriving momentum from the striking contrast between inner experience and outer circumstance, the Horoki narrative traces Fumiko's uneven course as she struggles along the road towards personal and a r t i s t i c fulfillment. In Horoki, the attempt to create art i s continually overwhelmed by the demands of l i f e ; yet Fumiko proceeds resolutely down the path she has chosen. By Part III she has become even more devoted to her craft than she was at the beginning of the story. Reading widely in the Japanese classics and Western literature, she now begins to think seriously about her own work. After a dishonest editor steals one of her children's stories for his own, she gives up writing these and settles down to try her hand at a novella. For Fumiko, the start has been 39 d i f f i c u l t , but now she begins to make progress, and by the end of Part III she t e l l s us she has f i n a l l y completed her f i r s t shosetsu ("Fukin to sakana no machi"). Nevertheless, unlike her private inner experience, the external circumstances of her l i f e never seem to improve. If anything, they grow worse. By Part III we see her embroiled in a relationship with a man who beats her; she i s forced to make money by working in a steady succession of s t i l l more dreary dead-end jobs; her stepfather i s arrested for gambling debts, and Fumiko ends up once again as a peddler on the streets of Tokyo, where her beloved mother is taken suddenly and serious-ly i l l . Thus, Fumiko1s struggle with l i f e i s marked by a continual downward slide of events. This downward progression of external events provides a contrasting background for the gradual upward swing of Fumiko's internal conviction. The contrast between Fumiko's inner and outer struggles, that i s , between the struggle for art and the struggle for l i f e , i s the basic method the author uses to develop narrative in Horoki. Given the nature of such a contrast, this method also provides the overall narrative tension in the story. Point of view i s also closely a l l i e d to this means of narrative development. Written in the diary form, Horoki has only one point of view, that of the f i r s t person narrator, Fumiko herself. Yet from within this context, three distinct 40 Fumikos emerge. Two of these, Fumiko the cafe waitress and maid-of-all-work and Fumiko the dutiful wife and daughter represent the outer self engaged in the battle for survival. The third Fumiko, the poet and would-be novelist, represents the innermost self endeavouring to achieve a r t i s t i c success. While a l l three aspects of the Fumiko character interact and overlap throughout the story, only one predominates, and that i s the figure of Fumiko as poet and a r t i s t . The other personae are clearly superseded by the end of the story. This i s particularly well-illustrated at the close of Horoki where Fumiko goes out peddling alone one hot August morning. Walking through the streets of Shinjuku, she comes across a lodging house where lives a former lover from her cafe days. Yet Fumiko does not go i n . As she walks along, dragging her clogs for something to do to relieve the tedium, she ponders on:the monotony of looking after her parents. The pack on her back gets heavier and heavier, and i t is clear that, like the pack, her family and their business are burdens too great to bear any longer. She realizes she must cast them o f f . Throughout Horoki Fumiko has suffered not only because of her susceptible affections and just plain bad luck with men, but also because of her steadfast devotion to and financial support of her mother and stepfather. Here, for the f i r s t time, she begins to put aside those matters which up until 41 now have kept her from working wholeheartedly to achieve her heart's desire: to become a writer. That Fumiko the a r t i s t emerges, as the dominant viewpoint by the end of Horoki parallels the narrative development in which Fumiko's internal world is also elevated in contrast to her endlessly depressing surroundings. While the Fumiko figure takes on various roles, the attitude of this personality remains consistently l y r i c a l throughout. This lyricism i s marked not only by emotional intensity, but also by an unaffected good humour that imparts a distinctly bright and cheerful tone to an otherwise sombre tale. Even when Fumiko's fortunes are at their lowest ebb, as in her suicide attempt at the end of Part II, her plans for death are hardly convincing. Indeed, the entire episode is treated in a l i g h t , even nonchalant manner: Every time I passed a pharmacy, I bought a small box of Calmotin. If I don't die, t h a t ' l l be a l l right,too. Isn't sleeping a b i t longer a happy means of escape? It's best to be cheerful about i t a l l . 23 Fumiko goes on to describe her recovery from the effects of the p i l l s and immediately reaffirms her w i l l to live on: I don't want to die...I want to go on l i v i n g . . . I want to l i v e . I think I shall live on and work in any way I can, that's the truth. 24 42 Just as Fumiko is able to derive a sense of well-being and hopefulness from her unpleasant brush with death, so does she also find encouragement in even the most t r i v i a l of matters. Her encounter with a cheerful waitress in a shabby restaurant serves to arouse her sympathies as well as her innate optimism: Rice and pickled vegetables were then set before me. A really meagre serving of dainties. When I paid my b i l l for twelve sen and went out through the shop curtain, the waitress called out to me, thank you very much. Drinking one'.s f i l l of tea and exchanging morning greetingsp a l l for twelve sen. I f e l t this dead-end world had a paper-thin crack of light and was truly cheerful. 25 This cheerfulness (hogaraka f<ft ) that the heroine frequently summons up in the face of adversity also connotes brightness, serenity, cl a r i t y and happiness? truly an unusually auspicious word for describing such unfortunate scenes and circumstances. Besides cheerfulness and optimism, Fumiko's l y r i c a l stance i s characterized further by a strong love for and devotion to her mother. Throughout Horoki Fumiko sings her mother's praises: No matter what sort of revolution comes which is not in accordance with my own thoughts, and though myriads of people point their arrows at me, I w i l l continue to live in agreement with my mother's ideas. 26 43 Although Fumiko bears much of the financial burden, her mother continues to provide sustenance and support, just as i f Fumiko were s t i l l a c h i l d . In fact, Fumiko's close attachment to her mother, her simple cheerfulness as well as her interest in dowa are qualities that would normally be associated with childhood. They are also qualities which give a sense of freshness and youthful vigour to the Fumiko heroine. This childlike attitude is further enhanced by the tendency of the heroine towards self-absorption and self-centredness which, i f anything, increases in intensity as the diary unfolds. Thus, although Fumiko eventually frees herself from her dependence on her mother, she continues to retain a chi l d l i k e sense of s e l f . Since Fumiko is so rooted and centred in her own being, when self-doubt and recrimination appear, as in the suicide attempt, i t i s not ultimately unsettling. 27 "Fumiko i s strong," she writes; the reader is compelled to agree. By Part III, as Fumiko struggles to realize her inner a r t i s t i c potential, i t i s significant that she i s able to put aside her greatest loves — mother and poetry — and embark wholeheartedly on a newly chosen path. In Horoki Fumiko's struggle for survival and a r t i s t i c success provides the central theme of the story. This theme is closely related to the process of narrative develop-ment in which the patterning of events also provides a 44 a vehicle for the main thematic progression. The theme of struggle, however, is developed in other ways throughout the story, most notably through the recurrent motif of wandering or travelling which is central to Horoki. Even though Fumiko's diary aroused the animosity of various c r i t i c s , particularly those of the p o l i t i c a l l e f t who saw i t as an example of runpen bungaku iV > ^  > iL'T (tramp 28 — — literature), Horoki's roots were nonetheless firmly embedded in the literary traditions of the classical past. In Japan, wandering poets and travel diarists are many and include such illustrious figures as Saigyo \$] X\ (1118-1190), Lady Ni jo t ffe >t ( b # i258) , and Matsuo Basho fa & *<L (1644-1691) ,2 9 a l l of whom found inspiration in the wanderer's l i f e , seeing the mutability of a l l existence in i t s vagaries and vicissitudes. Similarly, Horoki, too, chronicles the wandering l i f e of a modern poetess who, like the many literary personages before her, must struggle to come to terms with l i f e and art. Unlike her predecessors, however, Fumiko does not take refuge in Buddhism nor indeed in any religion, nor does she find solace in such traditional aesthetic concepts as mono no aware t, ^  °> in -kl (the sadness of things) or sabi ^  If (loneliness) . If anything, Fumiko takes courage and inspiration from the struggle and hardship of travel i t s e l f . It is this aspect 45 of her wandering that seems to dominate her travel poems as well as descriptions of her journeys around Japan. Thus, Fumiko is not "classical," nor is she of the aristocracy, literary or otherwise. Instead, she i s modern, romantic, individualistic, at the same time unabashedly plebeian, with a strength of w i l l that does credit to her humble origins. In her hands, the traditional motif of the poetic journey as well as the traditional image of the poet-vagabond takes on a new l i f e . Fumiko's capacity for suffering the abuses and hardships of a wandering l i f e i s directly related to her own impetuous nature. Quoting Basho, she remarks: The old pond, the frog jumps i n , sound of water. I am that frog. No matter what, I can't help but jump into the old pond. Some-how I can't think about d i f f i c u l t matters at 30 a l l ; I can only jump into things w i l l y - n i l l y . This unrestrained, adventurous s p i r i t characterizes much of Fumiko's wandering and is also largely responsible for the d i f f i c u l t i e s she must endure while roaming about. Unlike the conscientious Basho who patches his torn trousers and burns moxa below his knee-caps, Fumiko makes l i t t l e or no preparation before a journey; she simply ties a few things in a cloth bundle and catches the next trai n . Seldom does she consider consequences before she acts; her movements 46 often seem the result of the merest whim. Before her journey to Kyoto, for example, she writes: ''I received a letter from Natsu-san, a friend from high school, and I f e l t 31 like throwing away everything and going to Kyoto." And on the way to Onomichi: "If there happens to be an interesting place along the route, then perhaps I ought to get down 32 there." Fumiko thus travels in response to her own feelings, however unpredictable they may be. Although such journeys are impulsive, they generally occur whenever Fumiko is bored and dissatisfied with her l i f e i n Tokyo. Journeys always revive Fumiko's sagging s p i r i t s , providing as much a change of hardship as a change of scene, i t seems. On one journey, for example, Fumiko wanders about a distant town, tired and depressed. Buying a dumpling to eat, she is told these particular dumplings are called "keizoku dango" M^,^ ^ * 33 (continuation dumplings). As Fumiko reflects on this unusual name, she decides then and there to return to her l i f e in Tokyo and once again work hard. Thus, although travel both sustains and encourages Fumiko in her fight for survival and success, i t remains primarily a source of struggle i t s e l f , impelling her ever onward through l i f e . It is this aspect of her journeys, that i s , the ordeal, that she extols in her travel poetry, as in the following: 47 It's a wind-howling white sky! It's a splendidly cold winter sea. Even a crazy man whirling in a dance would awaken to sanity in such a great ocean. It's a straight-line sea route to Shikoku. Blankets twenty sen, sweets ten sen, third class cabin like a pot for half^dead loaches, A terrible seething. Spray, spray like rain, Gazing out at the wide white sky I grip my purse with eleven sen. Ah, I'd like to smoke a Bat, but even i f I y e l l Wo! the wind w i l l keep on blowing i t out. In the white sky the face of the man who has given me vinegar to drink i s so big, so big. Ah, i t ' s really lonely travelling alone! Pitting herself and her poor purse against the elements, Fumiko again encounters the "wide sky," a recurrent image in a l l her early poetry. Representing a remote, unattainable world, the wide sky also partakes of a wonderful freedom and spaciousness that fascinates the poet and draws her again and again to contemplate i t s vast reaches. Here, gazing at a wild white sky, Fumiko considers smoking a cigarette even though i t w i l l surely be blown out. This resolute poetic stance accentuates not only the hardship of the voyage, but also Fumiko's powerful determination to struggle on, even against the forces of nature i t s e l f . 48 Besides journeys undertaken on impulse, Fumiko also makes obligatory journeys in response to her mother's wishes, and these t r i p s , too, are not without their rigours. Yet journeys homeward are suffused with a warm, nostalgic glow that seems to both beautify and idealize. We can see this in the following passage where Fumiko, returning to her parents' home in Onomichi, recalls the time when she and her parents l e f t Onomichi for Tokyo: ...that was six years ago. Again I've come back to Onomichi, the native place of my travels, in a miserable state. I've wandered around that violently noisy Tokyo looking after my faint-hearted parents, but, ah, now, the seaside at Onomichi, the native place of my travels. The lanterns of the brothels near the sea shine whitely like camellias. The rooftops I remember, the warehouses I remember, the old ramshackle house where we lived;by the sea, a l l are peace-fu l l y there as they were six years ago. Every-thing i s dear to my heart. I can't help but feel as i f the atmosphere of my youth, the sea where I swam, the mountain temple where I made love, have a l l come back again. 35 Fumiko is reluctant to view past times as gone forever. With her characteristic childlike naivete, she attempts to bring past and present together and thereby assuage the pain and suffering of her endless wandering. In her eyes, the past does indeed live again; Onomichi remains unchanged. Such sentimental journeys not only affirm Fumiko's continuing love and devotion for her mother, they also act as a means of strengthening the protagonist's sense of self through the 49 continual redintegration of past and present. For Fumiko, nostalgia for the past at once beautifies the present and makes a l l the hardships of travel worthwhile. Given Fumiko's sentimentality and impulsiveness as well as her appreciation of the hardships of travel, i t is clear that the protagonist's attitude towards her incessant wandering is essentially romantic. It i s a romanticism, however, dominated by a powerful w i l l that constantly seeks to re-create the world entirely in terms of i t s own emotions and s e n s i b i l i t i e s . As such, i t tends to set Fumiko and her diary apart from the native Japanese tradition, reminding us instead of the iconoclastic bohemianism more prevalent in the West. This is readily apparent in the following travel poem where Fumiko records her impressions of Mount Fuji glimpsed through a train window. In keeping with the unconventionality of her diary, Fumiko seldom mentions traditional beauty spots, and when one does appear, as in this poem, rather than beauty, the poet emphasizes the magnitude of d i f f i c u l t i e s that she faces in her struggle for survival: I've seen F u j i , I've seen Fujiyama. If there is no red snow, then there is no need to praise Fuji as a fine mountain. 50 I'm not going to lose out to such a mountain. Many times I've thought that, seeing i t s reflection in the train window. The heart of this peaked mountain threatens my broken l i f e and looks down coldly on my eyes. I've seen F u j i , I've seen Fujiyama. Birds! Fly across that mountain from dome to peak; with your crimson mouths, give a scornful laugh. Wind! Fuji i s a great sorrowful palace of snow. Blow and rage, Fujiyama i s the symbol of Japan. It's a sphinx, a thick dream-like nostalgia, a great, sorrowful palace of snow where demons l i v e . Look at F u j i , Look at Fujiyama. In your form painted by Hokusai I have seen your youthful spark. But now you're an old broken-down grave mound. Always you turn your glaring eyes to the sky. Why do you flee into the murky snow? Birds, wind, rap on Fujiyama's shoulder so bright and s t i l l . It's not a silver citadel; ItJs a great, sorrowful palace of snow that hides misfortune. Fujiyama! Here stands a lone woman who does not lower her head to you; here i s a woman laughing scornfully at you. Fujiyama, F u j i , your passion like rustling f i r e howls and roars. Until you knock her stubborn head down, I shall wait, happily whistling. 36 51 Here, as in "Kurushii uta," Fumiko fearlessly asserts her own individuality and at the same time declares her independence. Impressed, awed even, by the sight of the famous Mount F u j i , Fumiko at f i r s t feels threatened by the weighty mass of collective memories and associations that Fuji conjures up. Yet she quickly recovers her aplomb, and with a surprisingly bold but refreshingly quixotic touch, Fumiko denounces Fuji and challenges the mountain to a kind of duel. Fumiko is on her mettle, ready to do battle with even the most powerful of adversaries in her attempt to realize her own dreams and ambitions. Instead of cursing her circumstances as she does in "Kurushii uta," Fumiko ends "happily whistling," a b i t of romantic bravado that emphasizes the poet's audacious nature. Thus, Fumiko*s poetic journeys take us not to Sarashina to view the moon nor to Hiraizumi to meditate upon the 3 7 grave of a long-dead warrior, rather we are drawn to the "broken-down grave mound" that, to Fumiko, is Fujiyama; to cheap inns, to storm-tossed ferry boats, to a simple fishing town, Onomichi, to bars, butcher shops, and celluloid factories in Tokyo, to any number of places that have l i t t l e i f any literary or aesthetic pretensions and yet, for a l l that, have a deep and meaningful significance to the poet who i s somehow able to find a r t i s t i c inspiration even in 5 2 such humble and sordid surroundings. It is an intensely personal journey, glorying in struggle and hardship, governed by impulse and sentimentality and tinged throughout with a vigorous romantic charm. In spite of the -emphasis on the desultory nature of Fumiko's travels, these journeys nevertheless conform to a particular pattern that i s in keeping with the overall structure of the work. For example, Parts I and II are f i l l e d with accounts of Fumiko's travels around Japan.' Part I i s even prefaced by a nostalgic poem about travelling. Fumiko then launches into the story of her early l i f e , her travels to Tokyo and other parts of Japan, a total of ten major journeys altogether. By Part I I , Fumiko is s t i l l on the go, making a total of nine journeys in this section. By Part III, however, Fumiko's endless travelling has decreased considerably. She makes only three journeys in this section, confining herself to v i s i t i n g various poets and writers living in Tokyo, as she attempts to establish her literary career. Here, even when overwhelmed by the urge to travel, Fumiko does not immediately succumb to the impulse but continues to work on her writing. As her penchant for wandering around Japan begins to wane, a latent desire to travel abroad seems to take i t s place. She plans journeys to Korea, to Paris, to India and Russia. Neverthe-53 less, these journeys remain imaginary; Fumiko's urge to travel is gradually suppressed and internalized as her determination to succeed as a writer reaches the ascendant. It is this new-found inner resolution which, more than anything else, helps to curb Fumiko's wanderlust in this third and f i n a l section of Horoki. Emphasizing the unconventional l i f e - s t y l e and poetic wanderings of the protagonist in ways which reveal much about character and motivation, the horo motif stresses the hardships of travel as well as the inspiration and encouragement to be had in such experiences. Although Fumiko poeticizes her wanderings, they remain closely a l l i e d to the simple struggle for survival, being governed by such pressing physical concerns as food, money, and a place to sleep. Travel, or horo, is thus an expression of l i f e i t s e l f : dynamic, continuously in motion, subject always to physical needs, f u l l of ever-changing vistas and unexpected happenings. Fumiko's wanderings are seen primarily as part of an outward struggle, and therefore they tend to narrow considerably in scope as Fumiko's inner a r t i s t i c struggle i s brought to the fore in the last part of Horoki. In Horoki the author does not deal only with personal or a r t i s t i c matters or with the hardships of a wandering l i f e . She i s also concerned with human relationships, particularly 5 4 those involving men and women in love. This preoccupation with women-men relationships provides a major thematic element, second only to the theme of struggle and at the same time dependent upon i t . Although a subordinate element at this point in Hayashi's career, the interest in love relationships would gradually assume a place of prime importance in her later works. Thus, one c r i t i c even cites Fumiko's treatment of such relationships as one of the 3 8 principal reasons her works came to be admired by so many. In this early work, however, the view of love tends to be rather one-sided. That i s , love i s seen primarily from the woman's perspective, in particular through the eyes of Fumiko herself. Always looking for the ideal partner, she finds men who only disappoint, a tendency which increases as Horoki progresses. Besides her relationship with the Tokyo actor (Part I ) , the erstwhile man from the island (Part I I ) , and the aspiring poet, Nomura (Part III) , Fumiko has a number of liaisons with other men. Some are pleasant, others less so; but a l l , in the end, prove unsatisfactory. Ardent and passionate though she i s , Fumiko seems doomed to continual failure in love. Thus, in Horoki, relationships between men and women are viewed as essentially disjunctive: 55 Although the bewitching white clover is blooming now in front of my eyes, when winter comes, these flowers and stalks w i l l dry up and crumble away. Serves them right. Relationships between men and women are just like that, too. 39 Fumiko, however, i s susceptible to men of a l l types, and her bad luck on this score notwithstanding, she frequently f a l l s in love. "I'm a woman who has a very soft heart for men," 40 she declares; yet finding herself continually betrayed by husbands and lovers, she also wonders: "Aren't there any 41 good men"? Unable to form a lasting relationship with any one person, Fumiko i s forced to live in loneliness. At times Fumiko's loneliness reaches the point where she contemplates returning to lovers she has previously l e f t or fleeing; to anyone who w i l l have her, as in the following poetic excerpt: [i am] small, like a daruma, A hothead who cries easily. No, i t ' s okay, Any man w i l l do. 42 Only to hold me and sleep with me. Poverty-stricken, hungry, forced into degrading and subservient positions, Fumiko is often portrayed as a victim — of men, of society, of circumstances. This i s also true of most of the other female characters who appear in Horoki, whether maids, prostitutes, mothers with small children, factory g i r l s , or office workers. Hayashi provides a 56 wide and varied view of the lower-class working woman's world, a world in which, as one of her fellow waitresses puts i t , women "seem to live and suffer for the sake of 43 men." Hayashi shows us a world where women are continually manipulated and abused, where their education counts for nothing, and where total dependence upon men is readily accepted. Nevertheless, women continue to be attracted to men and to f a l l audaciously and recklessly in love. Okimi, for example, the waitress of the above quotation, has nine children> yet declares she has yet to find her true love. 44 "My children are my lovers," she says. But before long she has fallen in love with a young student and abandoned her children, a l l for the sake of true love. - - 45 Throughout Horoki Fumiko openly admires such "purity" of commitment. From an early age she has been fascinated by posters and songs of the beautiful Katyusha, the unlucky heroine of Tolstoy's novel Resurrection, who goes into exile for the sake of love. Later she comes to envy the excitable Okimi her purity and strength of passion which i s reminiscent of the fi c t i o n a l Katyusha's. Thus, in spite of the depiction of women's problems and the seemingly radical feminist pronouncements, Horoki does not advocate social change nor espouse any kind of p o l i t i c a l or social ideology that might alleviate an apparently intolerable situation. 57 "It is a woman's fate/1 Fumiko observes, and indeed, Fumiko and her female associates appear to be victimized almost as much by their own desires and weaknesses as by the machinations of men and society. When young Toki sells herself for a ring and a coat, when Okimi deserts her children for a young lover, and when Fumiko cries out for some man to hold her, the author i s descrying not so much the inequalities of the social order as the f r a i l i t i e s of the human heart. In spite of the emphasis on love and on the struggle for fulfillment in love, the protagonist f a i l s to find any satisfaction in such matters. Instead, she moves through a succession of f u t i l e , short-term affairs that only serve to increase her sense of loneliness and isolation. The men she meets do not really have the power to comfort her. Her passion i s too great; by contrast, theirs is too weak. Yet she never gives up hope of one day finding the ideal partner. By the end of Horoki, however, we find that Fumiko's struggle for a pure and harmonious love has altered the outward thrust of i t s direction and turned inwards. This movement inward in terms of involvement in love affairs corresponds to the general inward direction of Horoki as the story draws to a close. In the f i n a l scene, Fumiko li e s in bed alone, rubbing a two-sen copper coin against her bare belly and 58 planning how to spend i t . The mood is sunny, indulgent, playfully n a r c i s s i s t i c . Fumiko no longer agonizes over the idiosyncrasies of her lovers nor the caprices of fate in love. She is alone, but content, glad to be alive, pleased, perhaps even pleasantly surprised to find that solitude i t s e l f can bring a sense of wholeness and peace. Thus, in Horoki, both theme and structure move with concerted design away from the everyday world of hardship and disorder towards a relatively calm inner world of a r t i s t i c concern and s e n s i b i l i t y . These two spheres — the outer and the inner — so s k i l l f u l l y juxtaposed by the author in this work are in turn associated respectively with the plebeian struggle for survival and the a r t i s t i c struggle for literary recognition. The external sphere is therefore a place in which the r e a l i t i e s of l i f e are portrayed through the hardships of travel, the uncertainties of finding a job, securing a place to l i v e , and obtaining a suitable husband; through lack of sufficient money and food as well as through the tendency to meet with unfaithful or irresponsible lovers. The inner sphere belongs to the a r t i s t and is represented by art, music, poetry and literature; by nostalgia for mother, father, and her old home in Onomichi; by the love of handsome men, good food, romance. A l l these are part of the poetic matrix that encourages and sustains the protagonist of Horoki. 59 While the interaction of these two spheres provides a basic tension that the protagonist attempts to resolve by achieving both a r t i s t i c and economic success, she is not successful in either sphere, and resolution comes about in another way, that i s , through the modification of the desires and expectations of the protagonist herself. This modification is due to financial considerations as well as to a reassessment of her own literary a b i l i t i e s and ambitions, and thus in the latter part of Horoki, Fumiko surrenders her youthful poetic aspirations and decides to begin writing shosetsu. At the same time, she ceases to idealize parents and lovers. Centred ever more strongly within her s e l f , she moves towards a new acceptance and understanding of r e a l i t y . The inner world i s in ascendance; yet i t i s a world which w i l l find expression through the use of everyday language and everyday situations. "Write as you speak," novelist Uno Koji ' f f - f / - ^ ^ (1891-1961) t e l l s 47 Fumiko when, in Part III, she v i s i t s him in his hotel room. Ahci iricleed* by the" en'd of Horoki, Fumiko's decision to forego poetry for prose f i c t i o n has been made. S t i l l a vagabond, but no longer considering herself a poet, Fumiko sets out to realize new dreams. Even though Fumiko's decision to try her hand at novel writing is not arrived at without considerable self-debate, 60 she has nonetheless been actively engaged in a kind of prose writing ever since her arrival in Tokyo, that i s , in the writing of children's stories and fairytale (dowa). Although she has very l i t t l e luck with these and manages to s e l l only a few, a groundwork in writing prose fict i o n has been l a i d . Basic techniques of narration and plot construction are f a i r l y well prescribed by this 48 genre, and thus Fumiko is not without some experience in working within a set narrative form.v,It is therefore significant that the f i r s t prose piece that Fumiko writes in Horoki (and that Hayashi herself was to publish after Horoki) is a dowa-like short story, "Fukin to sakana no machi," which effectively displays this writer's a b i l i t i e s in prose. In Hayashi's case, the dowa appears as a kind of link between the poetic and the prosaic, providing a firm grounding in f i c t i o n a l narration and at the same time allowing the exercise of the imaginative and poetic faculties. According to Itagaki, Hayashi wrote dowa only as a substitute for 49 . . writing novels. While this judgment has some v a l i d i t y , particularly as regards the dowa written during the time Hayashi spent as an evacuee in the mountains of Nagano Prefecture during World War II , i t does not take into account Hayashi's early interest in the dowa nor the continuing 61 appearance of dowa-like stories in the early years of her literary career. Rather than a "substitute," the early dowa perhaps should be viewed as an intermediate or transitional form that was primarily responsible for helping Hayashi develop a certain a b i l i t y in the art of narrative. Horoki, too, with i t s complex interlocking structure as well as i t s careful rearrangement and f i c t i o n a l -ization of actual events, constitutes a successful i f singular experiment with narrative that further demonstrates this writer's developing potential. The author's a b i l i t y is shown not only in the u t i l i z a t i o n of narrative s k i l l s , but also in the use of language. In spite of the emphasis on the muddle and disarray of the protagonist's l i f e , Horoki displays a remarkably clear and readable style. Sentences tend to be short or of medium length; the choice of words is free from affectation or ornament; the dialogue is natural. At the same time the language i s powerfully emotive. For example, offered a clerk's job for thirty-five yen a month, Fumiko writes: My! The wages are thirty-five yen including lunches! What a marvelous rainbow world i t i s . Thirty-five yen, with just that, I would be able to take care of my parents. Mother! Mother! When I send you ten yen, your heart w i l l throb, overflowing at your daughter's success. 50 62 Or, feeling betrayed by the Tokyo actor: As I walk about staring at the ground, I become so terribly lonely. I shiver like a sick dog. Damn i t ! This w i l l never do. Today on the pavement of this beautiful c i t y , w i l l someone buy me? I shall s e l l myself , I say this wandering around like a stray dog. No matter how I hold onto the bond that ties us together, i f i t wants to break, then I must bid that man a frank farewell. There are clusters of small white butterflies amidst the white flowers blooming in some large tree outside my window. A lovely scent pours from them. In the evening when I go out onto the verandah where the moon is shining, I hear the man [practicing] his lines from the play and memories of my girlhood suddenly assail me like the scent of the flowers. Then I want to cry out to the moon in a loud voice, "Isn't there a nice man anywhere?" 51 Dotted with exclamations, expletives, and at times, invective, Horoki soon overwhelms with i t s turbulent emotions. In the second quotation above, Fumiko moves through feelings of intense loneliness, se l f - p i t y , acquiescence, and nostalgia to despair and frustration in just a few lines. Such quickly changing emotions are typical of Horoki and constitute one of i t s most engaging s t y l i s t i c features. The author also u t i l i z e s repetition to create elaborate mood pieces, such as the following: Chimata ni ame no furu gotoku, dokoka no dareka ga utatta. Omotai ame. Iya na ame. Fuan ni natte kuru ame. Rinkaku no nai ame. Kusoteki ni naru ame. Bimbo na ame. Yomise 63 no denai ante.. Kubi o k u k u r i t a k u naru arae. Sake ga n o m i t a i ame. Issho g u r a i zabu zabu t o sake ga nomitaku naru ame. Onna d a t t e sake o nomitaku naru ame. Kofun s h i t e kuru ame. A i s h i t a k u naru ame. Okkasan no yo na ame. S h i s e i j i no yo na ame. Watashi wa ame no naka „o tada ate mo naku a r u k u . 52 Somewhere someone was s i n g i n g l i k e r a i n f a l l i n g i n the s t r e e t . Heavy r a i n . D i s g u s t i n g r a i n . Anxious r a i n . Shapeless r a i n . F a n c i f u l r a i n . Poor r a i n . R a i n when no n i g h t s t a l l s are1 s e t up. R a i n i n which one f e e l s l i k e hanging o n e s e l f . R a i n i n which one wants t o d r i n k sake.. R a i n i n which one wants t o d r i n k down h a l f a g a l l o n of s a k e . R a i n i n which one wants t o d r i n k sake because she's a woman. R a i n i n which one becomes e x c i t e d . R a i n i n which one wants t o l o v e . R a i n l i k e my mother. R a i n l i k e an i l l e g i t i m a t e c h i l d . In the r a i n I s i m p l y walk a i m l e s s l y . Here, each phrase brings e i t h e r a new perception or introduces an emotional state, and with the steady onoma-to p o e i c - l i k e r e p e t i t i o n of the word " r a i n " as well as the r e p e t i t i v e use of the verbal ending "-taku naru" s i g n i f y i n g desire, we are soon deluged by the author's emotional t o r r e n t . Besides Hayashi's keen emotional appeal, the author also has a remarkable verve f o r concrete sensual expression. It i s t h i s s t y l i s t i c feature coupled with the emotionality of the prose that most contributes to the sense of bold a f f i r m a t i o n and romantic abandon that characterizes the young 64 Horoki protagonist's, struggles for survival and success. For example, Hayashi makes extensive use of metaphor and simile, with simile being perhaps the more favoured figure of speech throughout Horoki. The vast majority of these similes are drawn from the everyday world, a fact which serves to increase explicitness and also adds to the informality and intimacy of the work: 53 ...I come home tired as fish guts. With a weak l i g h t , the metal hand-lamps crept along the ground like flowers on a bottle gourd. 54 Like a broken fountain pen, I throw myself down to sleep. 55 My fantasies fatten like a pig.^6 My body is agitated, like a fish being slowly cooked. 57 Such expressions as these add colour to Fumiko's struggles as well as contribute to the unpretentiousness of style. In addition to the ut i l i z a t i o n of simile to create homely yet fresh and unusual images, Hayashi also u t i l i z e s a wide range of sensual language and imagery that serves to heighten emotion as well as enhance v i t a l i t y . Towards the end of Part I I , when Fumiko begins to contemplate suicide, she writes: 65 ...when I wonder i f I should k i l l myself today, I take out a l l my rubbish and scatter i t about the room. The smell of my living body, how fond I am of i t , how dear i t i s . I'm t i r e d , and on the collar of my soiled black muslin kimono, grime and powder shine. Like a ch i l d , my own smell reassures me. In this kimono long ago I embraced that man. That thought! This thought! A lone woman drained and pale from passion hugs her breast, and from amidst both her arms a montage of body smells arises from every stain on her kimono, sash, and c o l l a r . 58 In this passage, olfactory imagery is used to evoke a sense of lonely eroticism as the protagonist contemplates suicide. So potent is the scent of her living body, however, that instead of death, she embraces herself in a narcissistic encounter made a l l the more poignant by the momentary shift in point of view from the f i r s t to third person. Fumiko is at once both subject and object, her passion temporarily overwhelming a l l ordinary boundaries. The author also stresses images connected with the sense of taste (at least insofar as i t relates to the desire for food). Fumiko, of course, never has enough to eat. At one point, she and her companions are forced to steal bamboo shoots from a nearby property in order to make their supper. Thus, Fumiko also, views.: l i f e as a continual struggle against starvation, much like the hero of Knut Hamsun's novel, Hunger, a work which provides Fumiko with inspiration and encouragement throughout Horoki. "In the midst of 66 starvation, Hamsun s t i l l somehow or other had hopes and 59 - -plans," Fumiko r e f l e c t s near the end-;of Horoki, where attempts at s e l l i n g her writing f a i l , and she finds herself hungrier than ever. Fumiko, too, has hope and i s not without plans. Even at one of her hungriest moments, she has the elan to pen the following poem: Fly to me, boiled egg. Fly to me, bean paste bun. F l y to me, strawberry jam bread. 6 Q F l y to me, Chinese noodle soup. Almost as i f she i s c a l l i n g upon the magical r i c e bowl of 61 Mount Shig i , Fumiko conjures up the food she longs to eat. And elsewhere i n Horoki culinary delights are always imagined with great r e l i s h and appetite. Nevertheless, Fumiko does not seem s a t i s f i e d with such imaginary, fare. She wants to touch and eat. In l i n e s reminiscent of "Kurushii uta," she writes: "Wherever I walk, delicious-looking bread i s on display, bread whose so f t face I ' l l never eat, whose white 6 2 skin I ' l l never touch." Yet such gourmet treats l i e forever beyond her grasp. Like the starving writer of Hunger, i t seems that poets are not supposed to eat. "Their immediate purpose i s simply to chase a f t e r things to 6 3 eat," Fumiko observes. Indeed, the pursuit of food seems to occupy the protagonist almost as much as the pursuit of art. By the end of.Horoki, however, where the physical 67 struggle i s to a great extent subsumed by the a r t i s t i c , we f i n d the author, basking i n the r e a l i z a t i o n of her new a r t i s t i c s e l f , seemingly content at l a s t with her v i v i d daydreams of d e l i c i o u s sweets. Before we take a closer look at t h i s f i n a l scene of Horoki and i t s concluding poem, i t i s necessary to look i n some d e t a i l at.the numerous other poems which dot the text. Including f i f t y - f o u r o r i g i n a l pieces and a number of other poetic quotations from haiku, kanshi, and popular songs, poetry i s the most prominent of Horoki 1s s t y l i s t i c features. The work both begins and ends with a poem; Parts I and III contain the greatest number of o r i g i n a l poems (nineteen i n Part I and twenty-four i n Part I I I ) , while Part II has the least, eleven. Although there are some short poems of only a few l i n e s , the majority are ,long, one of which extends, over three pages. A l l of these poems are i n the form of free verse with one exception, "Asa-^giri wa/fune y o r i 64 shiroku," i n whxch Fumiko experiments with the t r a d i t i o n a l 5-7/7-5 metre pattern. Poetry i n Horoki appears at i r r e g u l a r i n t e r v a l s . There may be as l i t t l e as one page between poems and as much as a twenty-six page gap. Although a few prose sections pass without a poem appearing, there are several lengthy passages where no poetry appears. An examination of these sections 68 (four in number) shows that the protagonist i s either busily engaged in writing something other than poetry, for example, dowa in Part I and "Fukin to sakana no machi" in Part I I I , or she i s involved in some major l i f e upheaval, the Kanto earthquake in Part II or the messy break-up with Nomura in Part III. Fumiko, i t seems, feels more comfortable with prose at times. Poetry, although an integral part of the text, nonetheless remains subordinate to the prose sections. In Horoki poetry functions primarily to intensify emotion. It also acts as a means of release or renewal. This intensi-fication and resulting catharsis can be seen particularly well in the f i r s t poem that Fumiko writes near the beginning of Part I. Recently rejected by the man from the island, Fumiko has just been expelled from her job as maid in the house of Chikamatsu Shuko and has nowhere to go. Cold and-alone in a cheap inn room, she writes: In this world everything i s a l i e . Over my head runs the last train bound for Koshu. I'm throwing away my l i f e which is as lonely as a rooftop above a market And spreading out my veins in the futon of a cheap inn. I tried to hold onto that corpse pulverized by the train as i f i t were someone else. When I open the: shoji, blac&e?iec$ by the jdark night, I find the sky, even in such a place as t h i s , and the moon joking about. 69 Goodbye to you, a l l ! I've become a warped die, and so again I ' l l r o l l back over Here in this cheap attic room. Gripping a l l the loneliness I've accumulated on this journey, I'm blown about aimlessly in the wind. In this poem, Fumiko gives vent to her anger and resentment against those who have betrayed her. Yet when she looks outside, surprisingly enough, the sky and the moon are s t i l l the same, evincing even a sort of good humour. At t h i s , a sense of r e l i e f sweeps over her, and she decides to carry on, letting matters take their course. Sometimes, however, Fumiko's frustrations and bitterness are less easily assuaged, as in the following poem from Part II, written while working as a cafe waitress: If you give me ten cups of King of Kings to drink, I shall throw you a kiss. Ah, what a p i t i f u l waitress I am. Outside the blue window, rain f a l l s like drops of cut-glass. Under the light of the lantern. A l l has turned to sake. Is Revolution the wind blowing north?! I've spilled the sake. Opening my red mouth over the sake on the table, I belch f i r e . Shall I dance in ray blue apron? Golden wedding, or caravan, tonight's dance music 70 S t i l l three more cups to go. How am I doing? you ask. I'm just fine. Although I'm a nice g i r l , a really nice g i r l , I scatter my feelings generously like cut flowers among petty pigs of men. 6 6 Ah, i s Revolution the wind blowing north? Depicting the shabbiness and debauchery of the mizu shobai l"S|'/£* , the world of cafes, bars, and small clubs where women work both as waitresses and entertainers, the poet captures the jerky rhythms and inebriated truthfulness of a drunken waitress. Soon after t h i s , Fumiko attempts suicide. Part II closes with a short epilogue that includes 67 the poem, "A, nijugo no onnagokoro no itami ka na," in which Fumiko deplores her unhappy circumstances for the last time. After t h i s , she i s never again quite so miserable in her poetry. Part III opens with a poem about shining, singing birds, 6 8 "Tori ga hikaru," and soon after, the charming verse "Fly to me, boiled egg" appears. Throughout Part III poetry acquires a lighter and brighter tone., Even Fumiko's unflagging desire for money finds easy expression as she pens a mock-serious letter to an old lover: I came home after buying ink. I'd like to meet you somehow. I want money. Just ten yen would be a l l right. I want to buy a copy of Manon Lescaut/ a yukata, and clogs. I want to eat my' f i l l of Chinese noodles. I want to go and hear Kaminari-mon Sukeroku. I want to go and work in Korea or Manchuria. d like to meet you just once. •Really I want money. In the Japanese text/ every line but the f i r s t ends with epistolary style of writing. Placing such a form at the end of each line i n the l i s t , of Fumiko1s exceedingly mundane wants has a d i s t i n c t l y incongruous as well as humourously emphatic effect. Another poem that helps strike a lighter note in Part III i s a descriptive piece that seems as i f i t could belong to the pleasant world of dowa, or children's Winter i s almost here? the sky says so. Winter i s almost here? the mountain trees say so. The drizzling rain runs to t e l l us the postman has put on a round hat. The night came to t e l l us winter i s almost here. The mouse came to t e l l us in the ce i l i n g he has begun to make his nest. Carrying winter on their backs, 7Q many people are coming from the country. a clas s i c a l verbal ending used in the formal story: The refrain "winter i s almost here" and the other repetitive phrases underline the personified a c t i v i t i e s of the natural world, which bring about changes in the human sphere in a 72 gentle and harmonious manner. Both mouse and human beings are settling into the town together for the winter, and the prevailing mood is one of rustic simplicity and coziness. Although Fumiko has been actively engaged in the writing of dowa throughout Horoki, i t i s significant that this light* hearted poem is placed here in the poetically brighter Part III rather than in the earlier and poetically gloomier Parts I or I I . Although the protagonist decides to forego poetry for the sake of prose f i c t i o n in Part I I I , she nevertheless continues to write poetry, and the greatest number of poems are found in this section. These include her longest piece, 71 "Usu-gumori yonnen ni wataru Tokyo no," as well as the poem in 5-7 metre mentioned e a r l i e r . There seem to be several reasons for this upsurge in poetry, not the least of which i s the gradual emergence of the inner a r t i s t i c struggle to a place of dominance. Although poetry w i l l eventually disappear from this writer's works, i t is s t i l l of major importance at this point. The protagonist lives and breathes through the exercise of her poetic s e n s i b i l i t i e s . Through poetry she i s able to explore her inner world of feeling and, emotion,.no matter how tempestuous or extravagant i t may be. By Part III this use of poetry is becoming tempered by the development of an intelligent interest in 73 poetry per se, in protracted study and experiment, in the reading of such classics as the tenth century poem-tale, Ise monogatari, the works of poets like Basho, Kobayashi Issa (1763-1827), and others. In short, Fumiko seeks not only realization of the a r t i s t within her, but control and definition of this a r t i s t i c self as well, hence, the greater variety and number of poems in Part III as well as a greater tendency towards more conscious crafting of poetic work. By the end of Horoki, Fumiko no longer sees herself as a helpless figure cast adrift in a world f u l l of l i a r s and cheats. Instead, she seems to be readying herself for a new start in l i f e , moving into a realm where the outer and inner struggles may become reconciled. Here, in a poem entitled "Ni-sen doka" ~ £ ^ ^1*1 1£* (Two-sen Copper Coin), she celebrates with the homely, materialistic imagery of food and money her new-found sense of a r t i s t i c fulfillment: You two-sen copper coin covered with blue mold! Two-sen copper coin I picked up in front of the cowshed. You're big, heavy, sweet when I taste you. I can see in you a pattern like a coiled snake. Minted in Meiji 34, That's a long time ago, isn't i t . I was not even born yet. Ah, i t makes me happy to touch you. You feel like I can buy anything with you. I can buy a bean-jam bun, four big taffy candies, too. 74 I ' l l polish you with ash unt i l you sparkle. Removing the grime of history, I hold you on my palm and gaze at you. You're really like a gold coin, sparkling two-sen copper coin. I'11 make you into a paperweight or put you over my naked belly button. You two-sen copper coin that lets me play with you so intimately! 72 Fumiko, i t appears has indeed begun a new l i f e . Perhaps i t w i l l be outwardly just as arduous as before; yet there w i l l be one subtle difference: her inner world is now whole and complete. She w i l l survive. The past, heavy and sweet to cling to though i t may be, has now been eradicated like the mold on the copper coin, and the present sparkles like gold. For Fumiko, there i s a great deal of satisfaction in caressing her new-found wealth, which, although i t may seem insignificant in comparison with her youthful dreams of great riches, is no mere worthless t r i f l e . The a r t i s t within has been realized. A l l that is l e f t is to polish her talent un t i l i t shines. From i t s f i r s t appearance on the literary scene in early Showa <Japan, Horoki was an unqualified success. This was due as much to i t s delightful diversity as to i t s passionate portrayal of a young woman from the lower classes and her struggle to survive, both as a woman and as an a r t i s t . Although Horoki dealt with a subject that was unique 75 in the literature of modern and pre-modern Japan, the author maintained links with the classical past by choosing the form of a poetic diary and thereby provided a familiar vehicle for her unconventional tale. Not only did Horoki treat unusual subject matter, i t did so in original ways which emphasized the heroine's bohemian l i f e - s t y l e as well as her gradual growth as an a r t i s t . In 1929, while installments of Horoki were.still appearing in Nyonin geijutsu, Hayashi, with the financial help of her friend, Matsushita Fumiko, brought out her f i r s t poetry collection, Aouma o mitari. Published in June by Nanso Shobo, this collection contained some thirty-seven poems, including ten pieces from Horoki, such as "Kurushii uta" and "Oshaka-sama." The t i t l e poem was a nostalgic piece in which Hayashi yearned for the simplicity and familiarity of her parents and old v i l l a g e . Yet i t would not be long before such youthful poetry as well as such youthful poetic sentiments would give way entirely to Hayashi's developing a b i l i t y in the novella and short story. Although Hayashi would continue to write poems throughout her literary career, poetry would never again be of such importance as in this early period. At the same time, her poetic sensi b i l i t y , depth of feeling, and love of homely, sensual images would remain, becoming incorporated in her 76 later works to produce a unique and memorable literary style. In Horoki, theme, structure, narrative, poetry — a l l work together in a complex progression that not only stresses the contrast between the struggle for art and the struggle to survive but also attempts to bring these two conflicts into harmonious accord by the end of the work. Here in embryo in Horoki is much of the material that Hayashi would develop in later works: the preoccupation with l i f e ' s randomness and resulting hardship, the deep interest in relationships between men and women, the desire for an ideal partner, and, above a l l , her portrayal of the undaunted, passionate female figure who, like a character from some old tale, struggles to find both love and happiness, but who, like the modern heroine she i s , never quite succeeds. Although the l y r i c a l , childlike cheerfulness of the Horoki protagonist would become somewhat modified in later works, i t is never to be completely suppressed, and, like the moldy two-sen copper coin which is made to sparkle like gold at the end of Horoki, the irrepressible courage of Hayashi's heroines never fades, but continues to shine brightly throughout her works, an inextinguishable light that constantly illumines their unending struggles for survival and success. CHAPTER 2 77 FURTHER EXPERIMENTATION WITH AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL FICTION: 1931-1934 During the period that Horoki was being serialized in Nyonin geijutsu, Hayashi wrote l i t t l e of interest. Instead, either alone or accompanied by her husband or other companions, she continued travelling throughout Japan. Although Horoki was popular, her continuous submission of various other manuscripts to publishers met with l i t t l e success. Most important for Hayashi, however, was the selection of Horoki for inclusion as a volume in a series of new literary works brought out by Kaizosha in August 1930; as a result, Horoki became a best seller. With the monetary gains from this, her f i r s t major single volume publication, Hayashi was f i n a l l y able to extend the horizons of her wanderings beyond Japan, and in mid-August she embarked upon a lone journey through Manchuria and China. Upon her return to Japan, Hayashi began working once again on the writing of novels and short stories. One of these, a novel entitled Shunsenfu j | - (A Brief Spring Record) ,:;;was serialized in the Tokyo Asahi newspaper from 5 January to 25 February 1931 but met with failure. It was not until April 1931 when the short story "Fukin to sakana no machi" ^ t $.0) was published in the magazine Kaizo / j ^ i£ 78 that Hayashi began to have further success. This story was followed by the publication and subsequent acclaim by such writers as Uno Koji of "Seihin no sho" ) \ j] °> 1 which also appeared in Kaizo in November of the same year.''' Although Hayashi's journey to China lasted only a month, she seemed to have developed an appetite for foreign travel. This, as much as her new financial independence, encouraged her to travel abroad again. In November 1931 she l e f t Japan, this time travelling through Siberia to Paris and London. In Paris she continued writing miscellaneous essays and travel pieces, which she sent back to Japan for publication. "Instead of having money sent to me, I had to send money to my parents" in Japan," Hayashi remarks in "Bungakuteki jijoden" i'T ^ - V E l £ * J * (A Literary Autobiography), an essay written in 1935 that comments on her constant writing activity 2 during this European t r i p . Nevertheless, Hayashi was far from the destitution of her Horoki days and lived comfortably i f modestly in a small pension in Montparnasse. When not writing, she spent her time v i s i t i n g art galleries and studying French. Her experiences in Paris are recorded in numerous essays as well as in diaries and other works written later about this period in her l i f e . Except for a short v i s i t to London in January 1932, Hayashi remained in Paris until June, when, low on funds, she decided to return to Japan. With travel expenses 79 provided by her publisher, she sailed home by way of Suez. Altogether she had been abroad eight months. While the trip was not particularly successful in terms of literary accomplishment, Hayashi returned home f u l l of new plans 3 for her writing. Throughout the next few years she undertook not only the task of literary creation but also the added responsibilities of an active literary l i f e , including participation in lecture tours, symposiums, and other related a c t i v i t i e s ; such involvement was to continue through-out her career. In spite of her success and popularity, however, Hayashi was not immune to the p o l i t i c a l persecutions which were then sweeping the country, and in September 1932 she was arrested and held in detention for nine days on suspicion of left-wing a c t i v i t i e s . Although Hayashi's offense constituted l i t t l e more than subscribing to the i l l e g a l Communist party newspaper, Akahata, her arrest was no doubt meant as a 4 deterrent to other left-wing sympathizers. While Hayashi's short stay in a police c e l l convinced her yet further that i t was primarily the poor and the unfortunate who suffered from the machinations of society and p o l i t i c a l groups,5 she never became a supporter of left-wing causes nor, indeed, of any p o l i t i c a l philosophy. Her early associations with such left-wing publications as Bungei sensen and Nyonin 80 geljutsu were soon severed, and although her friendship with writers such as Hirabayashi Taiko continued, Hayashi proceeded along her own highly idiosyncratic path, seeking guidance from neither l e f t nor right. Acquiring a permanent residence in Tokyo, Hayashi s t i l l continued to move incessantly about the country; yet these journeys, unlike her aimless wanderings of the past, were undertaken primarily in connection with her work. With the making of Horoki into a film of the same name in May 1935, the early and experimental stages of Hayashi's career came to a f i t t i n g close. The vagabond heroine thus passed into history, becoming incorporated not only into the nation's literary consciousness but into i t s popular culture as well. While Hayashi's literary output during this post-Horoki period was meagre when measured in terms of later years, i t i s nevertheless significant in terms of her growth as an a r t i s t . S t i l l developing as a writer and not yet entirely confident of her ab i l i t y in prose, Hayashi continued to make use of Horoki-style narratives during this time. That i s , the raw material of her own l i f e remained the principal source of inspiration for her f i c t i o n , while f i r s t person narration continued to provide a basic format. Less concerned with poetry per se, Hayashi's second-period works nonetheless remain essentially l y r i c a l , and in this period 81 the author produced some of her finest autobiographical fiction. At the same time, Hayashi was no longer preoccupied with the sufferings of the solitary artist; instead she concentrated on other aspects of the human struggle, particularly upon the problems of childhood and youth as well as upon the difficulties inherent in male-female relationships. "Fukin to sakana. no machi" and "Seihin no sho,:" two works which best represent Hayashi's achievement during this period, will now be examined with a view to assessing, f i r s t of a l l , their importance in relation to the overall development of Hayashi Fumiko as a writer and secondly, i f not more importantly, their value as works of art. "Fukin to sakana no machi" Portraying the l i f e of Masako, a fourteen-year-old g i r l , and her peddler parents, "Fukin to sakana no machi" could almost serve as an introduction to Horoki i t s e l f . Here again we find the seaside town of Onomichi with its fish shops and vendors; here also is the young impressionable protagonist with her great appetite for l i f e , and here too are her loving but impractical parents who follow the gypsyish l i f e of itinerant peddlers. Yet "Fukin to sakana 82 no machi" i s in many ways a very different type of story from that told in Horoki. Although "Fukin" opens in the midst of a journey, i t i s in fact at the end of a journey and in f a i r l y settled circumstances that the story takes place. Attracted by the national flags flying festively as their train passes through a town, Masako's parents decide to break their travels in this sunny seaside place and, hopefully, make some money with their peddling. Hearing a flute from one of the many fish shops, Masako's father, wearing an old military police uniform, takes out his accordion and begins to play as the family walks up the h i l l to town. Once a crowd has gathered, the father takes out his stock of patent medicines and begins his harangue. Selling medicines for the rest of the day, the family soon collects a large pile of coins, and able to eat their f i l l that night, they decide to spend one more day in this pleasant town which they discover is called Onomichi. One more day lengthens into several, and before long the family rents a room, and Masako i s sent to school. Although Masako enjoys looking at lithographs of flowers and playing the organ, her school days are not particularly happy. Scolded by the teacher for her vulgar use of the f i r s t person pronoun (she says washi wa ne when everyone else says uchi wa ne), Masako is also teased unmercifully by her classmates who give her the unflattering nickname, "daughter 83 of the great accordion clown." Afraid to t e l l her father of this since the name reflects on him, Masako endures the unpleasantness. It i s not long, however, before she meets a boy she like s . The son of a fish shop owner and the captain of his class at school, he offers to take her fishing, and Masako flushes with pleasure. Yet her l i f e in Onomichi does not seem destined to bring happiness. Masako's father gives up his patent medicines and begins selling cosmetics in brightly coloured jars which he hawks throughout the area, accompanying himself with a catchy tune on the accordion. Unfortunately, he is selling adulterated goods; he i s caught and hauled into the police station, where he is made to sing and play his accordion while a policeman slaps him repeatedly. The mother huddles nearby, curled up in a corner "like a rat."7 Although told to remain at home, Masako disobeys and arrives at the police station in time to glimpse this scene through the window. "Fukin to sakana no machi" comes to .an end as Masako in tears turns and runs towards the sea. Told in the f i r s t person by Masako, "Fukin" i s a short story divided into ten sections; i t t e l l s the story of a g i r l struggling to grow up in d i f f i c u l t and unusual circum-stances. Although there are one or two interpolations by the adult author that tend to remind the reader that this 84 i s a kind of reminiscence, the point of view is primarily that of a young g i r l . Unlike the mature female protagonist of Horoki, who i s able to view the world with a cheerfulness and determination derived from the successful integration of childlike and womanly qualities, Masako must s t i l l struggle with the conflict between the two. The t i t l e of the story provides an insight into the nature of this c o n f l i c t . The accordion, which represents the pure, bright, and happy realm of childhood, i s a symbol of Masako's own small inner world of mother, father, and s e l f , while the fish town, which represents the adult outer world, is a place which seems, on the surface at least, appealing and exciting, yet in i t s depths l i e corruption and misfortune. The dichotomy represented by the accordion and the fish town is nicely maintained throughout the story, providing a well-wrought tension that s k i l l f u l l y portrays the uncertainties and perplexities experienced by Masako as she struggles to move away from the world of childhood and accordion to -the world of adults and fish town. In order to see how these two motifs interact throughout the story, enhancing and augmenting the main theme of growing up, i t is necessary to look at both accordion and fish town in some d e t a i l . The accordion, introduced in the f i r s t lines of the story, wrapped in a white furoshiki & $ ( w r a p p i n g cloth) 85 and held on the father's lap, seems to be a kind of "child" i t s e l f , the white furoshiki adding an impression of purity and innocence. This association of the accordion with childlike qualities i s furthered when we learn that i t is an old-fashioned accordion worn with a belt at the shoulders and held against the body, much like a child might be held. And indeed, like the accordion with which she is so closely associated, Masako is kept close at her parents* side, guided, protected, and cherished. When Masako's father sets the accordion down beside a tree in the medicine selling scene on the h i l l at Onomichi, the local children are attracted to i t and attempt to play with i t , much to Masako's dismay. Although she tries to push them away, the children only laugh and tease her. It seems that Masako, too, like the accordion, is likely to suffer at the hands of the fish town's inhabitants. After these f i r s t scenes, the accordion drops from sight, and Masako becomes more and more involved with the l i f e of the fish town. Later, after Masako has started school, she notices that her father's policeman's uniform has disappeared. Disappointed, she worries that one day the accordion w i l l disappear, too. Although the accordion does not vanish, i t s purity and charm are certainly marred if not lost altogether in the f i n a l episode, where the father i s made to 86 play i t in a cruel travesty of i t s original glory. The accordion and the child's world i t represents take a serious beating at the hands of the adult world, and i t seems unlikely that they w i l l recover their former innocence. Unable to face the starkness of the situation, Masako runs away towards the sea in a scene that poignantly underlines the feelings of sadness and loss accompanying thi s , her childhood's end. The fish town, however, in contrast to the relatively passive and gently beautiful image of the accordion, is a vibrant, exciting, even violent place of colour and contrast. The very f i r s t sight of Onomichi is of flags f l y i n g , a rousing welcome indeed. In the streets near the station are the many fish vendors with their colourful signs, and a young boy whistling as he pounds up fish bones. Masako is fascinated by the variety of seafood and pesters her mother to but her some octopus. Even though her mother says they cannot afford i t , Masako continues to i n s i s t , and her mother fi n a l l y slaps her, causing a nosebleed. The fish town, although f u l l of l i f e and nourishment, seems also to foster elements of violence and injury, the unexpected nosebleed also indicating that Masako's innocent state i s l i k e l y to become sullied in this strange town. The violence and sordidness of the fish town is developed 87 further in the portrayal of the household where Masako and her parents rent a room. Owned by an elderly couple who are burdened with debts they cannot pay, the household is tainted by the misery of poverty and plagued by the demands of unscrupulous money-lenders. Adding to the atmosphere of corruption and decay is the shallow well in the garden which i s often polluted by the bodies of neighbourhood cats and dogs which have tumbled in accidentally. Its depths must thus occasionally be probed by means of an old corroded mirror. One night the elderly landlady throws herself into the well in despair over her husband's debts and i s rescued by Masako's father. The next morning Masako must use the mirror to fish the old woman's clogs from the well. Although the landlady survives, i t i s clear that the fish town is a place of hidden dangers and p i t f a l l s , most of which are like l y to be connected in some way with the debasing demands and hardships of adult l i f e . F u l l of fish and fish sellers as i t i s , Onomichi in every way is closely a l l i e d with the sea. In fact, the fish town seems to be a kind of extension of the sea i t s e l f . Thus, although exhibiting aspects of violence and impurity, the fish town is also clearly associated with the positive forces of l i f e . An il l u s t r a t i o n which underlines this is the scene where Masako and her mother go down to the harbour 88 at night to relieve themselves. Masako notices that the water, like the fish town, is also f u l l of f i s h . The moon is out, and as Masako peers through her legs at the scene behind her, she sees reflected upside-down in the water the sea, sky, ship, and the white mound of her own bottom as her urine covers the sea like a mist.- Although this view places Masako firmly among the reflected images of the fish town and at the same time evokes the uninhibited natural world of childhood, this glimpse of the fish town as a topsy-turvy sort of place suggests that in Onomichi things may be turned suddenly upside-down. This is in fact what happens at the end of the story. The sea, in this case, is similar to the well mirror, acting as a kind of reflecting device that reveals the hidden hazards and instability of the adult world. Also in the fish town is the school at the top of the h i l l . Taken by her father to enroll, Masako is overcome by nervousness and starts to run away, but her father shouts at her to come back. Masako returns, "trembling like a g bird rising from the water.'' As this image suggests, Masako, too, summons up her courage, and struggling to rise above her new world yet at the same time to be a part of i t , she enters the school. Masako's desire to take part in the new world of the fish town is seen not only in 89 her decision to enter school but also in her attraction to the boy in the fish shop. The measure of her new commitment is shown by Masako's reluctance to leave when her parents suggest moving to Osaka. Thus, both positive and negative elements in the fish town help to bring' change and new awareness into Masako's l i f e . Both accordion and fish town are recurring motifs that help to underscore the conflict f e l t by the young protagonist as she struggles to come to terms with adult l i f e . Thus, the accordion represents the pure and cheerful world of childhood, while the fish town, on the other hand, has two faces: one, smiling and alluring; the other, treacherous and squalid. Sometimes one of these faces may conceal the other, as in the case of the attractive jars of make-up which turn out to contain an adulterated product. The tension between these two spheres, the outer world of the adult (fish town) and the inner world of the child (accordion), is similar to that evinced in Horoki between the inner world of a r t i s t i c struggle and the outer world of struggle for survival; yet in "Fukin" this tension is not brought to a harmonious resolution as i s the case in Horoki. Instead, the story closes on a note of sorrow and suffering as Masako witnesses her parents' humiliation at the hands of the police. Nevertheless, the way is made clear for the protagonist to 90 realize a new maturity, painful though i t may be. As she turns away from her parents in the f i n a l lines of the story and runs towards the sea and the fish town, i t is clear that she has made her choice. Although "Fukin" follows a straightforward development in terms of both time and space, the narrative is constructed in a manner that further delineates the inexorable progression from the world of childhood to the world of the adult. Sections one to f i v e , for example, cover the f i r s t day and night of the familyJs arrival in Onomichi. Time here moves at a snail's pace as the sights and sounds of the fish town and the family's experiences merge into an endless flow that recalls the timelessness of childhood. Sections six to ten, however, cover a time period of roughly three months as the season changes from spring to summer. Here, only certain events are highlighted, as the fish town reveals i t s e l f more f u l l y , and the childhood i d y l l is caught up in .new growth and change. Each of these last five sections bring Masako into contact with events that seem to represent many of l i f e ' s major transitions -r, section six: old age (the story of the old destitute couple); section seven: death (the attempted suicide of the old woman); section eight: education (the school on the h i l l ) ; section nine: f i r s t love (the boy in the fish shop); section ten: 91 loss of youthful innocence (the scene at the police s t a t i o n ) . Thus, i n these l a s t sections Masako becomes more and more enmeshed i n the drama of adult l i f e , as she encounters i n f a i r l y rapid succession various incidents which highlight the hardships but also the pleasures of the adult world. Within the above arrangement of the story's ten sections are other elements which further support and enhance the narrative structure. For example, the mother's slap at the beginning of the story contrasts markedly with the police beating i n the f i n a l section. A childhood remonstrance and i t s unexpected e f f e c t seem to pale beside the gratuitous violence of the wider world. The h i l l where Masako's father gathers his f i r s t crowd and where Masako and the l o c a l children sport with the accordion i n section three i s another such element. Contrasted with the gloomy h i l l where Masako must go to school i n section eight, the h i l l of accordion and children seems a j o y f u l place indeed. These two h i l l s , l i k e the slap and the beating, further accentuate the movement from s i m p l i c i t y to complexity, from c h i l d to adult that characterizes the o v e r a l l narrative framework. There are other images, however, which, although aligned with the above narrative progression, produce a s l i g h t l y d i f f e r e n t e f f e c t . That i s , instead of emphasizing the hardship and s u f f e r i n g of the f i s h town world, pleasure and 92 beauty are brought to the fore, .a fact which helps to bring out the positive aspects of the fish town in contrast to i t s darker side. Connected primarily with food and with gustatory sensation, these images (similar to Horoki) are closely related to the peddler family's outward struggle for survival and at the same time (unlike Horoki) reveal much about the young protagonist's inner development. In "Eukin" food plays an important part from the very f i r s t lines of the story, where jolting along on the train, Masako is given a banana to eat by her mother. This is followed soon after in Onomichi by a piece of tempura,. which Masako buys and shares with her mother. Masako licks the grease from her hands as she follows her mother up the h i l l . The giving of food by the mother followed by Masako's purchase of the tempura and subsequent sharing indicate Masako's in-between state; she i s neither totally child nor totally adult. Yet, as she absently licks the grease off her hands, the reader begins to suspect that Masako i s in many ways s t i l l a chi l d , an impression which i s confirmed in the ensuing scene at the octopus seller's s t a l l . Although Masako i s not allowed to have the octopus, her parents do their best to make i t up to her. Later that evening they provide her with a dish of noodles that contains special additions of bean curd that theirs do not. Masako sucks 93 up the last of her noodles "as i f they were baby's milk," her behaviour continuing to be very much that of the greedy child. Like the young protagonist of Horoki, Masako, too, is always hungry. Yet this hunger seems to stem more from an adolescent growing spurt than from any kind of starvation. Her father, aware that Masako i s just reaching her f u l l height, t e l l s her that she can have a l l the white rice she wants to eat. He uses the word shir okamanma fyij^ht^ a word that denotes a particularly delicious and excellent grade of rice and therefore emphasizes not only Masako's state of childish dependence on such parental treats but also her father's eager indulgence. Once Masako and her parents settle down in the fish town, however, food ceases to be treated in such babyish terms, and although Masako s t i l l depends on her parents for sustenance, she is curious about other new and strange foodstuffs, such as the piece of dried seaweed the elderly landlady uses in her fortune-t e l l i n g . During the rescue of the old woman from the well, Masako takes the opportunity to pop one of these into her mouth to see how i t tastes. The black pepper in i t bites her tongue, a sharp reminder of the attractive yet acri-monious nature of the fish town. Masako soon acquires a taste for her new environment, and near the end of the 94 story, she goes to v i s i t the boy i n the f i s h shop. After buying chinugo, 1 1 Masako engages i n a mild f l i r t a t i o n with the boy and declares that she l i k e s a l l kinds of f i s h . Here the aspect of change associated with the f i s h town and i t s inhabitants i s seen i n a bright and happy l i g h t . Even the 12 f i s h that Masako buys i s "glowing," and i n t h i s scene which brings section nine to a close, Masako declares i n no uncertain terms her preference for the f i s h town and i t s a t t r a c t i v e promise of new l i f e and love. In the l a s t section, food becomes associated e n t i r e l y with adults, i n p a r t i c u l a r with Masako's father. When Masako's mother buys some cheap, suspicious-looking meat from a l o c a l peddler woman who claims she i s s e l l i n g beef, Masako's father suspects i t i s dog meat and eats some to prove his suspicions. This spurious beef sold by a peddler woman again reminds us of the corruption and impurity to be found i n the adult world of the f i s h town and at the same time prepares the way for the appearance of the adulterated cosmetics sold by Masako's father at the end of the story. Except for t h i s f i n a l section, then, images of food and eating i n "Fukin" emphasize primarily the bright, i n t e r e s t i n g , and pleasurable aspects of Masako's new l i f e i n Onomichi. The f a c t that food i n the f i n a l section of the story i s no longer associated with Masako but with her father emphasizes 95 the predominance of the adult world, which is firmly established in the last scene at the police station, Masako becoming a mere observer of her father's disgrace. Masako's direct involvement in the bright and cheerful fish shop scene of the preceding section, however, is also important, indicating that growth and change for Masako have been essentially enlivening and stimulating, and thus the events at the end of the story, while sudden and upsetting, are not likely to be ultimately destructive but w i l l no doubt bring in their wakeea new,if i n i t i a l l y painful, s p i r i t of independence. In her 1945 postscript to "Fukin to sakana no machi" and elsewhere in her writings, the author refers to this, her f i r s t successful shosetsu, as an "adult fairytale.-" Indeed, although there are no supernatural manifestations or fantastic elements that might alienate an adult reader, a bright, enchanting atmosphere pervades the entire work, reminding us at times and in certain respects of the dowa' tale. Thus, while the story i s presented in a straight-forward, r e a l i s t i c manner, various elements (particularly t i t l e , characterization, and setting) tend to emphasize the unusual and extraordinary and at times seem to evoke other narrative realms. For example, the peddler family with their outlandish musical instrument and odd concoctions that 96 cure a l l i l l s easily remind the reader of characters from some old nursery tale. Like beggars come to town, Masako and her mother t r a i l along after the father, who easily gathers crowds of children and other onlookers with his peculiar brand of music and chatter, his own figure suggesting a kind of modern-day Pied Piper. Although there are no poems in "Fukin," there is the father's peddler song that adds to his image as a folk or fairytale figure. Selling the ersatz cosmetics, he sings: Use one jar, light pink your skin w i l l glow, Use two jars, for skin as white as snow, Everyone, come buy from me, ^4 If you don't, a charcoal ball your face w i l l be. Here, with a subtle irony, the adulterated cosmetics are viewed as desirable items that have the a b i l i t y to provide freshness and purity, whereas in reality they are no better than the black charcoal b a l l the song warns against. This kind of reversal in which the fresh and beautiful figure or object conceals a harmful or hideous interior, is also a familiar feature of the folk=> or fairytale., Not only is the family and their eccentric l i f e - s t y l e portrayed in a way that stresses elements of the folktale, the fish town, too, seems a strange mixture of the odd and the ordinary. Peopled by an elderly luckless fortune-teller and her hapless husband, curious as well as spiteful 97 children, a handsome f i s h e r boy, and a brutal police o f f i c e r , the f i s h town seems inhabited by persons who might have stepped from the pages of a r u r a l f o l k t a l e . Although not a l l are malevolent, a l l are involved i n various occurrences that bring change and new awareness to the l i f e of the young protagonist. Thus, the f i s h town appears as a kind of f a i r y t a l e land, seemingly peaceful and pleasant on the surface, but harbouring a host of unusual and v i o l e n t events that continually challenge the protagonist and her parents. By portraying the peddler family and the f i s h town i n a manner which u t i l i z e s dowa elements, the author i s able to convey not only a sense of the young protagonist's s i m p l i c i t y , but also a sense of her brightness and charm. Thus, Masako appears not merely as an unfortunate c h i l d of the lowest s o c i a l order but also as a cheerful peddler g i r l , who l i k e many a f a i r y t a l e heroine of si m i l a r background, i s forced to struggle with the hardships and mysteries of l i f e armed only with her innocence and engaging naivete. Like a stranger i n a strange land, Masako must struggle to come to terms with her s e l f , her odd but loving parents, and the peculiar f i s h town i n which she finds h e r s e l f . The dowa elements not only impart a sense of the strangeness of the f i s h town but also, by extension, of the world of adults with which 98 Masako must deal. More importantly, however, the associations with folk and fairytale serve both to beautify and poeticize Masako1s experiences, creating a realm in which the wanderings of poor peddlers are given a kind of magical veneer, in which an ordinary fishing town and i t s impoverished inhabitants acquire unexpected dimensions, and in which the young protagonist's struggle for maturity and independence is imbued with a bright sheen of innocent hopefulness that, in the end, tends to mitigate most effectively the overlying p a l l of darkness and despair. In order to highlight further the significance of "Fukin to sakana no machi," an analysis of "Seihin no sho," the second story selected for consideration in this chapter, w i l l now be introduced. Thereafter, an assessment of the importance of these two stories w i l l be presented, thereby completing the evaluation of Hayashi's work in this second period. "Seihin no sho" In contrast to "Fukin to sakana no machi" which reads like a kind of introduction to Horoki, "Seihin no sho" could almost serve as a sequel to Hayashi's diary tale. Based on the author's early married l i f e with her third 99 husband who appears here under the name Komatsu Yoichi, "Seihin no sho'1 also deals briefly with the unpleasant years spent with the second husband. This is of course the Nomura figure of Horoki, disguised here as Uotani Ichitaro. Although "Seihin no sho," like "Fukin to sakana no machi," does not deal with the author's struggle as an a r t i s t , i t does concern i t s e l f with the author's personal a f f a i r s , in particular, her relationship with her third husband and her attempt to make this relationship a success. Seen by some c r i t i c s as one of Hayashi's most representative 15 works, "Seihin no sho" deals in depth with an area hereto-fore treated only fragmentarily in Horoki and hardly at a l l in "Fukin to sakana no machi": close relationships between men and women. While Horoki portrays such relationships as primarily unhappy and unsatisfying, "Seihin no sho" takes an entirely different view. A short story in twelve sections, "Seihin no sho" i s told in the f i r s t person by the female narrator, Kanayo. Although this female protagonist with her poverty-stricken parents in Kyushu and her d i f f i c u l t second marriage i s easily identifiable with the Fumiko figure of Horoki, the protagonist of "Seihin no sho" is no longer a wanderer. Deeply involved with marriage and husband, she has turned her attentions toward settled domestic existence and seems 100 to have set wandering aside. The story recounts Kanayo's unfortunate r e l a t i o n s h i p with Uotani and then proceeds to describe her present l i f e with Yoichi, her t h i r d husband, as they move into a small bungalow on the grounds of a large and dilapidated estate i n the middle of Tokyo. Surrounded by azalea bushes, pomegranate trees, and cedars, the house i s part of an unexpectedly luxurious pastoral s e t t i n g . Here, Yoichi, a Western-style painter, i s able to work/and the protagonist of the story struggles to be of help to him i n every possible way, as the two gradually learn how to l i v e together. Dogged at every step by extreme poverty and hunger, however, t h e i r path i s not easy. Not only must the couple face the hardships of a destitute existence, they must also cope with a r a i d from the Thought P o l i c e , ^ the loss of Yoichi's job, constant requests by Kanayo's parents i n Kyushu for money as well as Yoichi's eventual departure to serve a short term i n the m i l i t a r y . Nevertheless, such experiences only serve to draw the two closer together, and as "Seihin no sho" comes to an end, we f i n d Kanayo eagerly awaiting Yoichi's return, which w i l l coincide with the appearance of tomatoes on the vine i n t h e i r garden. This event v i v i d l y underlines the beauty and f r u i t f u l n e s s of t h e i r maturing r e l a t i o n s h i p . 101 The depiction of a satisfying and mutually beneficial male-female relationship i s rare in Hayashi's works and thus the success of Yoichi and Kanayo in this regard sets this work apart from many of her others and at the same time offers some insight into the preoccupation with fulfillment in love that characterizes much of Hayashi's later writings. Similar to the dowa-like quality of "Fukin to sakana no machi," "Seihin no sho," too, seems to incorporate something of the world of folk and fairytale in i t s theme of the search for love. As one study of folktales, points out: The marital theme occupies a prominent place in fairytales: i t consists of the search for a marital partner, the overcoming of obstacles in the course of the search, the r i t u a l and marital tests...and the happy marriage to a princess or prince. 17 Although the protagonists, of "Seihin no sho" do not have to undergo a d i f f i c u l t courtship, they do proceed through a series of crises and events which is reminiscent of the folk or fairytale format and which leads, in the end, to an ideal state of marital b l i s s . Concerned not only with struggles that find satisfaction through a r t i s t i c and personal growth and achievement, as in Horoki and "Fukin," Hayashi now begins to lay stress on the quest for fulfillment in love. In fact, for Hayashi, such accomplishment can 102 mean the realization of beauty and perfection in this l i f e . However, few Hayashi heroines attain such a state, and of those who do, fewer s t i l l manage to make i t l a s t . Neverthe-less, the unique narrator figure of "Seihin no sho" does both. "Seihin no sho" i s representative, then, in that i t depicts in detail the growth and maturation of a close adult relationship and yet unusual and atypical in that i t portrays this relationship as happy and successful. After "Seihin no sho," Hayashi's works depicting relationships between men and women exhibit decidedly unhappy outcomes. The t i t l e of this story, as in the case of "Fukin to sakana no machi," provides an important key to interpretation, i t s few words encompassing certain of the story's essential features. Of most significance i s the word seihin ^ , translated usually as "honourable (or honest) poverty." The f i r s t character of the compound, sei 5"j| actually means clean, clear, pure as well as noble and thus denotes that not only i s the state of poverty in which Yoichi and his wife live "honourable" or noble, i t i s also pure and undefiled; i t i s , in a very particular and traditional 18 Japanese sense, beautiful. The connection of purity and beauty with the struggles of poverty both ennobles the couple's battle with adversity and also suggests that their struggle has aesthetic value in i t s own right. Consequently, 103 this struggle is worthwhile setting down in a r t i s t i c form, in this case, as a "record" or sho . In order to see how the author develops this motif of seihin or "pure and beautiful poverty," i t i s necessary to look at the story in closer d e t a i l . The f i r s t sections of the story deal with matters that are far from being pure or beautiful. In section one, for example, the protagonist recalls briefly her l i f e with three different men over the past four years, a situation her own mother finds unlucky and similar to her own misfortune with men. We learn, too, that the protagonist's third Jiusband, Yoichi, i s a fellow who is in every way opposite to her own character, being an entirely ordinary and matter-of-fact sort of person. Describing the grounds of their new house, for example, Kanayo exaggerates when she t e l l s her friends: "It's like an old mansion with thousands of azaleas growing 19 around i t . " But her husband says: "It's really on the overgrown site of some old mansion; i t has only about two hundred azalea bushes and they're a .poor quality azalea.at that.."^ At this point, we are not yet certain whether the protagonist finds Yoichi's artless adherence to mundane fact entirely desirable. Section two is a flashback recounting the two-year relationship with the violent Uotani, his mistreatment of Kanayo, their separation, and her eventual 104 meeting with Yoichi at a New Year's celebration. Throughout these f i r s t two sections the emphasis is on misery and misfortune, the one bright spot being the brief dialogue description of the azalea-surrounded house by Yoichi and the protagonist. As the relationship with Uotani comes to an 21 end, Kanayo decides she must "wash her hands," not only of him but of her work as a waitress as well. Thus we see that her struggle against unfortunate circumstances is also a struggle against the degradation and debasement caused by such circumstances. The meeting of Yoichi at the New Year therefore betokens brightness and hope for new beginnings, suggesting that the protagonist may now be able to cleanse herself of the sordid past. This preoccupation with an impure or unclean past and the need to r i d oneself of i t is developed throughout the next several sections (three to seven), where Kanayo and Yoichi move from their old rooms and settle into the large yet dilapidated bungalow. Yoichi is a calm and practical fellow who talks openly with Kanayo about her relationship with Uotani, a fact which helps restore Kanayo to a sense of youthfulness and freshness. Yet she remains uneasy, unsure of how to treat this frank and open fellow who behaves towards her with such honesty. In section four, asked what she intends to do with the ceramic jar that holds 105 her savings from her cafe days, Kanayo hesitates to reply, not yet ready to break i t open. Thus,; she and Yoichi must carry t h i s heavy pot along with t h e i r other possessions to t h e i r new home. In the Japanese text, "ceramic j a r " i s jigokutsubo frp, ( h e l l j a r ) , a secreted cache of spare change. Jigoku also connotes a house of p r o s t i t u t i o n and thus i n t h i s context suggests the protagonist's connection with the mizu shobai world. The use of t h i s word under-scores s t i l l further the undesirable nature of the past from which the protagonist wishes to disassociate h e r s e l f . The past continues to plague the protagonist throughout sections f i v e , s i x , and seven, as the couple s e t t l e into t h e i r new l i f e together. Appalled at the lack of e l e c t r i c i t y as well as the o v e r a l l condition of the house, Kanayo t e l l s Yoichi they are stupid to have taken such a place and for such a steep rent (the rent i s more than double t h e i r previous re n t a l fee). Yet Yoichi seems r e l a t i v e l y unconcerned, and eager to get started with his painting, he t e l l s Kanayo 22 her i s a "romantic." She worries that he may leave her and wonders i f he thinks she would prefer her old l i f e of pawnshops and unpaid b i l l s to that of l i f e with a struggling a r t i s t . By section seven, t h e i r f i n a n c i a l s i t u a t i o n has worsened considerably, and Yoichi, romantic or not, l i e s down dizzy with hunger. In desperation Kanayo chips away at 106 the ceramic jar and manages to break i t , extracting enough money to buy rice and vegetables for their supper. She slips out without t e l l i n g Yoichi, who chides her on her return for not t e l l i n g him what she intended to do. "Poor people cannot afford to be vague about things. Just t e l l 23 me straight," he says. He t e l l s her he is planning to look for a painting job at an exhibition in Ueno the next day. Washing the r i c e , Kanayo weeps s i l e n t l y , stung by Yoichi*s criticism. Yet from this point on, she ceases to be uneasy in her relationship with Yoichi. Like the ceramic jar, the hold of the past has been broken, and her tears, very much like the water that rinses the r i c e , seem to wash away a l l impurities. Thus, by the end of section seven, the couple are firmly established not only in their new residence but also in their new relationship, a state of affairs nicely anticipated by the quotation from Basho that opens this section of the story: The mountain is s t i l l and fosters character; water moves and i s in sympathy with emotion. Between stillness and motion is the person who has a dwelling place. 24 Here an aesthetic dimension i s added to the couple's new l i f e together as their relationship is viewed in more poetic terms. The mountain reminds us of Yoichi and his simple, steady 107 nature, while the ever-restless water r e c a l l s the protagonist and her v o l a t i l e personality. The broken-down cottage that i s t h e i r dwelling place unites these two opposite yet e s s e n t i a l l y complementary figures who now begin to l i v e as one, sharing together the joys and sorrows of the "honourable poverty." In section eight, Yoichi gives up his own painting for the job i n Ueno. The prints he has hung on the walls of the house begin to fade i n the summer sun, mute evidence of his temporary s a c r i f i c e . Like his wife, Yoichi, too, i s prepared to r e l i n q u i s h something of the past i n order to sustain the present. To pass the time while Yoichi i s gone, Kanayo s i t s alone and hungry i n the garden, holding a couple of coins and l i s t e n i n g to the din of the cicada. Dreaming of food, she puts the two coins up to her ears and chinks them together, a sound the author places i n apposition to the sound of the cicada. In the chink of the two coins, Hayashi s k i l l f u l l y depicts the "sound" of hunger and poverty that c r i e s out with a voice at once as penetrating and as eloquent as that of the cicada. The juxtaposition of t h i s seasonal image of t r a d i t i o n a l Japanese poetics with images of poverty and d e s t i t u t i o n immediately elevates the protagonist's experience into an aesthetic one, implying that the couple's struggle i s now suffused with a pu r i t y and 1 0 8 beauty a l l i t s own. The sound of the cicada, however, is soon drowned out by another sound, that of the kerosene stove the local junk dealer brings around. So loud i t sounds like an airplane, this noisy stove even brings the neighbour's child running to investigate. The roaring stove, which soon becomes Kanayo's constant companion during Yoichi's absences, seems to signify the dynamism that underlines Kanayo's new-found domestic commitment and at the same time in i t s association with cooking and with food appears as a potentially powerful weapon in the never-ending battle against hunger and poverty. In the next three sections the couple's relationship is put to the test by various events, and in each case they hold together, reaffirming the strength and purity of their love. Section nine, for example, describes the unexpected intrusion of the Thought Police who search the premises and attempt to arrest Yoichi; however, i t turns out to be a case of mistaken identity, and the police have no choice but to leave empty-handed. Yoichi immediately t e l l s Kanayo to scatter salt about the house in a brief r i t e of purification. Told there i s no s a l t , he replies, even kerosene or earth w i l l do, thereby emphasizing the importance of the bungalow as a place protective of the domestic sphere and thus unsullied by the coarseness of the outer world. In section ten 109 Yoichi quits his job after suffering insults and the abuse of another worker. From his two-weeks wages, Kanayo is able to buy kerosene, and as the stove roars again, the two go out to the garden to bathe together at the well, an activity which further reinforces their new bonds of intimacy and mutual cooperation, as together they wash away the taint of adversity. This sense of harmony continues as they discuss Yoichi's departure in a few days for military service. Yoichi t e l l s his wife he w i l l leave her a l l the money except for the five yen he needs for travel expenses. As Yoichi washes, he splashes water on the azalea leaves which are now withered. Implied but unstated is the thought that perhaps their love, too, like the beautiful azaleas, v/ill now wither and die, and the protagonist feels a sharp sense of unease at being l e f t alone. Thoughts of her mother and father f i l l her mind, and she thinks of sending money to them in Kyushu. She never finds the opportunity to ask Yoichi about this, and section ten closes on a note of melancholy, as Yoichi goes about whistling a lonely, autumnal tune. In the next to last section Yoichi and Kanayo take leave of each other at the train station, each holding back their tears. In the last section, Kanayo lives alone in the bungalow, listening to the noise of the stove, sipping tea, and reading 110 Yoichi's letters. Soon the tomatoes begin to bear f r u i t , and Kanayo knows that Yoichi w i l l soon be home. The protagonist, who opened "Seihin no sho" with the statement: "For a long time I've cherished the idea of living alone," now declares that to be alone and without Yoichi's love i s 26 akin to perversity, and as the story draws to a close, she remains calmly at home, Yoichi's letters piling up beside her, humble testaments to a rare and wonderful happiness: At autumn's onset cut reeds and susuki grass I gather, overwhelmed by longing these autumn grasses I send to you. 27 In lines which conclude "Seihin no sho," Yoichi sends this poem to Kanayo, poeticizing not only his loneliness but his commitment to his wife as well. In "Seihin no sho," then, the ruinous hardships of l i f e are held in check by the couple's mutual devotion. The struggle to survive becomes a struggle to survive together, a shared commitment to l i f e that brings transcendance of poverty and hardship. While the f i r s t half of the story (sections one to six) depicts the protagonist's preoccupation with her past, and in particular her anxiety that degradation and unhappiness from this past might somehow mar her new I l l relationship, the last part of the story (sections seven to twelve) shows how she manages to free herself of such concerns and in partnership with her husband begin to live a l i f e of seihin, that i s , a l i f e of poverty purified and made beautiful by their mutual love. Here, as in Horoki and similar to "Fukin to sakana no machi," the author associates such aesthetic and emotional satisfaction with an inner world circumscribed, in this case, spatially, by theidilapidated bungalow and i t s flower-f i l l e d grounds, and temporally by the developing relationship between Yoichi and Kanayo. This inner realm, i d y l l i c and ideal, is in sharp contrast to the outer world, which intrudes in various forms, disturbing the lovers' tranquillity with i t s poverty, violence, and peremptory demands. Yet without such hardships, l i t t l e growth or change would take place, and similar to Horoki and "Fukin to sakana no machi," "Seihin no sho" emphasizes the struggle with hardship that leads to personal fulfillment. Unlike the earlier works, however, "Seihin no sho'' indicates that such fulfillment is not always attainable by the individual self but i s also dependent upon and closely determined by others. The even-tempered and considerate figure of Yoichi is of particular note in this case, being a standard against which a l l other Hayashi male characters may be measured. Due largely to 1 1 2 the balance and equanimity of this male figure, the female protagonist is able to enter into and sustain a stable love relationship. Thus, "Seihin no sho" chronicles the gradual growth and development of a marriage in i t s earliest phases. Although the time span is not long (from early to late summer), the changes experienced by the couple are profound and at the same time are affirmative of the struggle for a true and pure love. The passage of time i s similar in some respects to that of "Fukin to sakana no machi." For example, in the f i r s t half of the story (sections one to si x ) , time moves fa i r l y slowly, as the protagonist depicts her past married l i f e and then describes settling into the new house with her third husband, Yoichi. In the last half of the story (sections seven to twelve), time moves more quickly and covers two to three months, as events which promote change begin to occur f a i r l y rapidly. As time passes, Kanayo breaks free of the past, as she gradually acquires confidence in the present, a process which implies a movement away from a state of corruption and squalor towards that of purity and beauty. This narrative progression i s further reinforced by the use of various images which underscore Kanayo's changing circumstances. For example, the story opens with Kanayo perusing a letter from her mother and ends with her 113 s i t t i n g b e s i d e a p i l e of l e t t e r s from Y o i c h i . The mother's l e t t e r , which de p l o r e s her daughter's bad l u c k w i t h men, p r o v i d e s a t e l l i n g c o n t r a s t w i t h the l e t t e r s from Y o i c h i , which e l o q u e n t l y a t t e s t t o t h i s husband's lo v e and c o n c e r n . The ceramic j a r from Kanayo's c a f e days i s another image which predominates a t the b e g i n n i n g of the s t o r y o n l y to be r e p l a c e d by the r o a r i n g stove as a c e n t r a l o b j e c t of focus i n the l a s t h a l f of the s t o r y , a replacement which f u r t h e r u n d e r l i n e s the e l e v a t i o n o f the p r e s e n t over the p a s t , the pure over the impure. L i k e a c o r n u c o p i a , the ceramic j a r p r o v i d e s money f o r food when the couple i s completely d e s t i t u t e . Yet i t s h o l d i n g s are the r e s u l t of a p r e v i o u s s q u a l i d e x i s t e n c e which w i l l not be resumed, and l i k e the p a s t memories o f which i t p a r t a k e s , the j a r comes to l i e broken and f o r g o t t e n . The s t o v e , on the other hand, once s u p p l i e d w i t h f u e l , r o a r s i n t o l i f e l i k e an a i r p l a n e , i t s presence overpowering. The stove belongs completely to the p r e s e n t , s i g n i f y i n g , through i t s a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h the a i r p l a n e imagery, not o n l y the v i t a l i t y o f t h i s p e r f e c t marriage but a l s o the s u b l i m i t y o f a r e l a t i o n s h i p t h a t seems to soar beyond o r d i n a r y bounds t o i d e a l and Utopian h e i g h t s . I n s p i r e d by Alexander Pushkin's poenv-novel Eugene Onegin, Hayashi thought of emulating t h i s work she so much admired 114 when she wrote "Seihin no sho." Although the two works have l i t t l e in common in terms of form and content, i t seems like l y that Hayashi was attracted both by the exchange of love letters in the Russian novel as well as by the fact 29 that Pushkin's novel was in poetic form. S t i l l enamoured of poetry and the poetic novel herself, Hayashi thus set out to write "Seihin no sho," a work which renders in prose the poetic sentiments and feelings of a woman in her married l i f e . The style i s reminiscent of Horoki, yet much subdued. Only one poem in the Horoki vein appears, a short piece at the beginning of section two that protests the beatings the protagonist received from her brutal second husband. With the exception of this poem, the Basho quotation, and the poem at the end, the story proceeds uninterrupted by poetic interpolation. These three poetic selections are important, however, in that they mark the l y r i c a l peaks of the story, that i s , the poem about being beaten: the protagonist's squalid and unhappy past; the Basho quotation: the protagonist!s present happy marriage; and the fi n a l poem: the narrator alone, longingly awaiting Yoichi*s return; she is reassured of his love. As a l y r i c a l prose work, "Seihin no sho" has much in common with Horoki, and yet at the same time by virtue of i t s emphasis on settled domestic l i f e and the tranquil nature of the relationship between husband and 115 wife, this story bridges the gap between Horoki, Horoki-type pieces, and later straight prose works which centre on domestic themes, such as Tria'z'uma, which w i l l be discussed in the next chapter. Thus, while "Fukin to sakana no machi" and "Seihin no sho" both maintain links with Horoki, the work that brought Hayashi her f i r s t success, they also constitute experiments in new directions by the author, in spite of the fact that both stories deal with very different matters and reach very different conclusions, both exhibit some striking s i m i l a r i t i e s . Beyond the fact that both stories are based on autobiographical events related to the Horoki story, they are also remarkably alike in terms of overall narrative structure. Each story follows a similar narrative progression, that i s , the f i r s t half of the story in which time moves f a i r l y slowly contrasts with the f i n a l half of the story where time speeds up and events occur much more rapidly. Both stories are also divided into numbered sections within which the various episodes take place. Each section is f a i r l y short and tends to deal with only one event, a feature that is certainly reminiscent of the diary entry. Thus, while the author makes use of the familiar diary^entry-like format as a means of building up her narrative, she also experiments with a slow-fast narrative tempo which seems to lend i t s e l f 116 very well to her particular requirements at this stage in her career. For example, the slowly moving f i r s t sections portray the deepest thoughts and feelings of the character narrating the story, thereby establishing a certain mood and setting the tone of the story. In these sections, outside events tend to be minimal and, when they occur, are either closely related to the narrator's s e l f , as in "Fukin to sakana no machi," or viewed at secondhand through memory or flashback, as is the case in "Seihin no sho." In these f i r s t sections, a l y r i c a l note prevails, while in the more quickly moving fi n a l sections, narrative i s emphasized as sudden events and happenings burst on the scene, and the plot is forwarded rapidly. This type of narrative pacing allows the author to u t i l i z e her l y r i c a l proclivities and at the same time satisfy the demands of narrative writing, a matter she manages both s k i l l f u l l y and effectively in both stories. Just as these works exhibit developing narrative techniques, so do they also offer a fresh insight into the evolution of Hayashi's treatment of the element of struggle. While the struggle for survival, that i s , the battle with the outer forces of l i f e , is a consistent feature in a l l of Hayashi's works, the inner struggle of the diverse protagonists varies. Thus, in Horoki we find the Fumiko figure passionately committed to art and prepared to fight against 1 1 7 a l l odds i f she can but attain her inmost desires. In "Fukin to sakana no machi," however, the young Masako's inner struggle centres upon the attainment of maturity and acceptance in the wider world, while in "Seihin no sho" the protagonist endeavours to realize her deepest desires through the purity and beauty of true love. These three types of inner struggle — the struggle for art and beauty (Horoki), the struggle for maturity ("Fukin to sakana no machi"), and the struggle for ideal love ("Seihin no sho")— developed in these early works of Hayashi's f i r s t and second periods are to appear as essential thematic features in a l l of Hayashi's subsequent work. These inner struggles, associated as they tend to be with the emotional and aesthetic sensibilities of the protagonist, are essentially poetic battles that,are waged alongside the more mundane struggle for existence. Through the portrayal of these inner struggles, Hayashi maintains links with her poetic past; and thus although she continues to depict the hardships of l i f e , she also manages to persist in celebrating these struggles in poetic ways, thereby reaffirming not only l i f e ' s beauty and value but also her own deepest a r t i s t i c desires. CHAPTER 3 118 THE DOMESTIC NOVELLA: DEFYING THE DARKNESS OF CIRCUMSTANCE (1935^-1942) In the years immediately following her return from Europe, Hayashi's early wanderings came slowly to an end. Henceforth, she embarked upon a more or less settled existence, becoming increasingly involved in the Japanese literary world. Her writings, too, during this period exhibit a marked shift away from themes of wandering to themes of a domestic nature, as we shall see in Inazuma this chapter. Consequently, "Seihin no sho," with i t s emphasis on everyday married l i f e , seems to presage such domestic novellas which Hayashi began to write during this third period. At the same time as Hayashi's preference for writing poetic autobiographical-style f i c t i o n began to wane, more and more of her writings start to exhibit an objective, third person format. Thus, the transition from poetry to prose in Hayashi's writings seems to have been a f a i r l y gradual process, involving a movement from poetry i t s e l f towards the combination of prose and poetry in Horoki to the poetic prose of ''Fukin to sakana no machi" and "Seihin no sho" and culminating f i n a l l y in the third person (Lightning, 1936), the major work to be discussed in 119 narratives that characterize Hayashi's middle and late periods. A major factor in Hayashi's gradual evolution from poet to prose writer is without doubt directly related to the author's own overwhelming desire to become a "novelist," that i s , a writer of objective or non-autobiographical prose fiction.''" Although poetry was and always would remain her f i r s t literary love, Hayashi also had a great admiration for the writers of the naturalist (shizenshugi |j 4* £ ^ ) school of literature, in particular Tokuda Shusei (1871-1943) whose objective novels (kyakkanteki shosetsu dO1-1' «$L») of the late Meiji period provide a distinct contrast to the more amorphous, l y r i c a l shi-shosetsu >)'*9±, (I-novel) format favoured by the writers of the subsequent Taisho period. Enamoured of Shusei's literary style and subject matter based on domestic themes, Hayashi struggled to emulate his work. Her short story "Kaki" tfi-^J&i (Oyster, 1935), for example, praised by c r i t i c s as a fine example of shi zenshugi writing, is also held up aa:;a work clearly - 3 reminiscent of the style of Tokuda Shusei. Thus, although Hayashi's poetic autobiographical f i c t i o n had brought her great success and acclaim, she set herself yet another goal, that of striving ever harder to write the kind of objective f i c t i o n she so much admired and which to a great extent 120 seemed incompatible with much of her early work. Hayashi's shift to objective prose was accompanied not only by a new emphasis on settled domestic themes but also by an accentuation of the more prosaic events, situations, and characters of ordinary everyday l i f e . Eschewing the bohemian and the eccentric, Hayashi turned her writer's eye upon the mundane, and with the shizenshugi writers of the past as her guide, she boldly embarked upon a new literary undertaking. Yet no matter how hard she worked at her writing and no matter how great her success, Hayashi was never able to feel fully confident of her position as one of the leading women writers of the day. Although she continued her association with her chief publisher, Kaizosha, throughout the 1930's and remained their most prized and best published author, Hayashi continually behaved as i f she were involved in a fierce struggle for literary survival. Actively discouraging younger women writers she considered competitors, Hayashi went so far as to hinder their publication by Kaizosha in 4 every possible way. Needless to say, thxs unnecessarily competitive attitude alienated most writers her junior and at the same time made Hayashi an object of criticism by women writers in general. Hayashi did not extend this literary aggression towards male writers. Probably due in 121 part to the fact,that in Japan the work of male and female authors i s seldom compared and "tends to be judged 5 separately," Hayashi's relationships with such novelists as Kawabata Yasunari remained cordial. Citing Hayashi's d i f f i c u l t early l i f e as well as her compulsive, energetic nature, Itagaki sees Hayashi's competitive behaviour as a natural outgrowth of her early struggles. Whatever the reasons behind her actions, however, Hayashi, fearful of losing her success, seems to have lost the trust and respect of many of her female colleagues f a i r l y early in her literary career, and due to her intense r i v a l r y , she fostered an attitude which was to gain her much opprobrium throughout the rest of her l i f e . Thus, Hayashi's struggle for a r t i s t i c success was to be never-ending, and the embattled Fumiko figure of Horoki would continue to remain Hayashi*s most cherished literary persona throughout her entire l i f e and career. Hayashi's combative energies were to find further expression during this third:period, primarily in the journeys she was to make abroad as a journalist for various newspapers. Virtually a l l of these travels were connected with the Japanese war effort, which by the late 1930's was beginning to escalate. After the f a l l of Nanking in December 1937, Hayashi was sent for two months to Shanghai 122 and Nanking as a special correspondent for the Mainichi newspaper, and in September 1938 she again returned to China 7 as a member of the Pen Brigade. Once back in China, Hayashi was not content to wait for assignment, but instead went off on her own in search of news from the front. Joining up with an advancing battalion, she secured a ride on an Asahi newspaper company truck and reached Hankow on 22 November, the o f i r s t newspaper reporter to arrive. Although censured by the Pen Brigade for her unauthorized actions, Hayashi remained undaunted. Returning to Japan in December, Hayashi spent the next year travelling throughout the country lecturing as well as publishing numerous journalistic pieces on her war experi-ences. Although not particularly outstanding as works of literature, Hayashi's writings on the war in China are memorable primarily for their depiction of the ordinary Japanese soldier caught up in the ordeals of war in a strange land. In 1940 Hayashi visited Korea on a lecture tour and in 1941 she paid a v i s i t to Manchuria with a group of Asahi newspaper reporters. Although restrictive war measures were then in effect in Japan, Hayashi, perhaps by dint of her own considerable popularity, s t i l l managed to publish three new novels throughout this year and the next (1941-1942). Nevertheless, by the end of 1941, most of her works, like those of other authors, had been prohibited from further publication. In spite of such restrictions, Hayashi remained 123 active for a time in journalism and from October 1942 until May 1943 travelled throughout Southeast Asia, the member of a Pen Club news team. Her experiences here were later to provide the inspiration for a number of stories and novels as well as the basis for one of her finest works, Ukigumo, which will be discussed in Chapter Four. Although impulsive and inept in her dealings with colleagues and felchow journalists, Hayashi seemed to have erred l i t t l e in terms of her own work. With the appearance of Nakimushi kozo >JL & <h i g (The Crybaby) which was serialized in the Tokyo Asahi newspaper from October to November 1934, Hayashi demonstrated her ability to move in new directions while at the same time maintaining links with the past. A medium-length novella in the third person, Nakimushi kozo tells the story of a young boy whose widowed mother pawns him off on relatives so as not to spoil her chance at a second marriage. One of Hayashi's most acclaimed works, Nakimushi  kozo continued to make use of dowa-like elements in this poignant story of betrayed affection, which like "Fukin to sakana no machi," centres around a child's struggle with the adult world. Of particular regard in this work are the female characters, the mother and her three sisters, who, much like Fumiko in Horoki, find l i t t l e satisfaction in their relationships with men. Of the four sisters, one has never married, and although steadily advancing 124 beyond marriageable age, she has no intention of sharing her l i f e with either husband or lover. She finds her sisters', marital a f f a i r s p a r t i c u l a r l y d i s t a s t e f u l : Considering the circumstances of Teiko's and Hiroko's household, she [Sugako, the unmarried s i s t e r ] f e l t as i f there was no need to rush into marriage, and anyway, marriage didn't seem to give s a t i s f a c t o r y answers. As for the strange arithmetic of relationships between men and women, Sugako f e l t i n danger only from the p i l i n g up of the years. 9 Here, for the f i r s t time i n Hayashi's work, we f i n d a female character who i s not es p e c i a l l y eager to f i n d love nor enter into marriage and who, defying convention, prefers to lead a s o l i t a r y l i f e . This type of female figure was to at t a i n further significance i n Tnazuma as well as i n several other works written throughout the 1935-1942 period, reaching i t s most accomplished expression i n "Bangiku", Hayashi's prize-winning story of the fourth period. After Nakimushi kozo Hayashi moves well beyond her l y r i c a l roots and enters a new stage of a r t i s t i c development. Concentrating almost exclusively upon the domestic arena, Hayashi examines i n exacting d e t a i l relationships between men and women, esp e c i a l l y those of husband and wife. In "Kaki" Hayashi sets the tenor of many of these third-period pieces. Refreshingly, she writes from a male point of view / 125 recounting the hardships of a young man injured in a f a l l in a shipyard. Forced to eke out his living doing piece-work for a bag and pouch manufacturer in Tokyo, the young man's l i f e seems, unlikely to improve. He meets the lively Tama, a maid at a nearby inn; the two f a l l in love and are married. The grinding poverty of their lives as well as the young man's growing mental instability due to his f a l l conspire against them, and Tama eventually deserts her husband for a well-paying waitress job. The young pouch-maker, l e f t on his own, rapidly disintegrates into a mental and nervous wreck. The pathetic vulnerability of the pouchmaker i s subtly underlined by the t i t l e "Kaki>" which denotes the soft, flaccid nature of a defenseless creature suddenly exposed to the harshness of l i f e ' s realities.'*"0 The vivacious figure of Tama stands in marked contrast to that of her husband. The pearl to which her name alludes^1 seems to represent the positive and v i t a l forces of human existence, which possess a kind of adamantine strength that both sustains and beautifies the human struggle. Nevertheless, unlike earlier works but similar to Inazuma and other third-period writings, both "Kaki" and Nakimushi kozo depict the inner struggle for love and affection as demonstrably weakened and debilitated by the outward struggle for survival. At the same time such strong-willed female figures as Tama in 126 "Kaki" and Sugako in Nakimushi kozo are proto-typical of Inazuma1s rebellious protagonist, Kiyoko. • jit-Serialized in Bungei ^ from January to September 1936, Inazuma was the next major success to follow "Kaki." The story of three sisters and their complex relationships with husbands, mother, brother, and each other, Inazuma is remarkable not only for i t s frank and original portrayal of lower working-class urban family l i f e but also for i t s depiction of one sister's struggle for self-realization and independence. This figure remains one of Hayashi's most outstanding portrayals of women who, caught up in unpleasant domestic situations beyond their control, refuse to give in to their fate, and in spite of family obligations, attempt to struggle on to achieve their own ends. Many of Hayashi's third period works deal with such types of protagonists — women who possess the daring and fortitude of the Horoki heroine yet are but ordinary creatures whose prosaic struggles centre upon either their desire for independence, as in Inazuma, or upon their bid for romantic happiness forbidden by family circumstance, as in such later novels as Junenkan -f f£] (Ten Years, 1940) and Ame ^ (Rain, 1941). Here, in these later works, the female protagonists are intent on attracting and holding the men they love. They are prepared to defy not only family and society (Ame) 127 but also hardships in the wilds of nature (Junenkan) in the pursuit of their desire. Although such single-mindedness in pursuit of romantic happiness i s depicted with greater success and s k i l l in works of the fourth period, and while fifth-period works explore more full y the quest for personal independence within the domestic setting, Hayashi's third period i s significant nonetheless as a necessary transitional phase in which earlier style and theme undergo a fundamental transformation. Not only is a more prosaic mode of expression evinced, the presentation of the element of struggle i s also modified. Thus, whether centring upon the struggle for independence and maturity or upon the search for love, the inner struggle throughout the third period i s depicted as weakened and undermined by the power of outside circumstances. In order to discern more clearly the significance of the third period as well as to provide some insight into the works of the later mature periods, Hayashi's f i r s t successful full-length novel and representative third-period work, Inazuma, w i l l now be examined. Hayashi began Inazuma with the expressed intention of 12 writing an "ordinary novel,M ordinary, that i s , in the sense that the work would avoid poetic digressions and 128 would at the same time express a more " o b j e c t i v e " point of view, focusing upon ordinary c i t y people as they go about t h e i r d a i l y l i v e s . Spurred on by her admiration for Ihara Saikaku 4 f/$$SA (1642-1693) and h i s ta les of the townsmen classes as w e l l as for such European wri ters 13 as Balzac and de Maupassant, Hayashi began to write Inazuma. In spi te of i t s emphasis on the unremarkable l i v e s of lower-class c i t y f o l k s and t h e i r mundane struggle for s u r v i v a l , Inazuma contains much that i s i n t r i g u i n g l y unique. Family r e l a t i o n s h i p s , for example, are e s p e c i a l l y unconventional . The mother, O s e i , has never been p a r t i c u l a r l y scrupulous i n her r e l a t i o n s h i p s with men, and of her four c h i l d r e n , three have d i f f e r e n t f a t h e r s . The e ldes t son, Kasuke, and e l d e s t daughter, Nuiko, are the unrecognized o f f s p r i n g of two d i f f e r e n t men, while the youngest daughters, Mitsuko and Kiyoko, are the unrecognized c h i l d r e n of the same fa ther , a w e l l - t o - d o property owner. Of v a s t l y d i f f e r e n t temperaments, the brother and s i s t e r s seem to have very l i t t l e i n common save t h e i r unhappiness and d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n , and, of course, t h e i r i l l e g i t i m a c y . Told from the point of view of both Mitsuko and Kiyoko, Inazuma traces events and developments i n the l i v e s of t h i s family over an e i g h t - to nine-month p e r i o d . 129 The story opens in mid-December in the secondhand clothes shop of Mitsuko and her husband, Robei. A cold and gloomy day, winter thunder can be heard in the distance as Mitsuko chats with Nuiko who lives with her husband, Ryukichi, in a nearby neighbourhood. Flashily attractive, Nuiko is also sly and deceitful, and the timid Mitsuko finds her rare v i s i t s unsettling. Unsettling, too, are Mitsuko's thoughts of how Nuiko inveigled her into marriage with Robei and also Mitsuko's nagging suspicion that Nuiko and Robei have also been lovers. Yet, being reluctant to act, Mitsuko prefers to quietly bide her time, hoping that things w i l l work out somehow for the best. Kiyoko, the youngest daughter, finds Mitsuko's docility totally unacceptable and is equally disapproving of Nuiko's scheming and i n f i d e l i t y . Employed at the telephone exchange, Kiyoko lives with Mitsuko and Robei and enjoys a certain amount of independence. When Mitsuko t e l l s her that Nuiko has come calling with the offer of a husband, Kiyoko rebels. Refusing even to meet the man, Kiyoko declares she has no desire for marriage whatsoever. Disillusioned by both her sisters' unsatisfactory marriages, Kiyoko is also self-conscious about the slight'hare-lip scar she feels makes her an object of pity. The family's shaky st a b i l i t y is soon shattered by a 130 sudden series of events — the unexpected death of Mitsuko's husband, Robei, the subsequent loss of the shop, the discovery that Robei has a secret mistress and child, and the revelation that Nuiko i s having an affai r with Goto Tsunayoshi, the proposed husband for Kiyoko. When spring comes, the family's circumstances are no better. After witnessing a violent and drunken row between Ryukichi and Tsunayoshi over Nuiko, Kiyoko moves out of the house in disgust, quits her job, and makes plans to go to night school. Soon after, Mitsuko, with the help of Tsunayoshi and Robei's insurance money, opens a small cake shop. She, too, d r i f t s into an affai r with the roguish Tsunayoshi by whom Nuiko meanwhile has become pregnant. It is not long before Nuiko's resentment against Mitsuko overflows,aand the two come to blows, destroying Mitsuko's new shop in the process. Mitsuko flees, and Tsunayoshi, ostensibly looking for her, comes to Kiyoko*s lodgings. There he suddenly attacks Kiyoko who fights back and manages to escape. Concerned for herself and Mitsuko, Kiyoko borrows money from her father's wife, a retired geisha, and calls at Mitsuko's devastated shop, confronting Osei and the hysterical Nuiko. Revolted by her family's foolish plight, Kiyoko returns to her own neighbourhood, where she spends the evening with Kunimune, a young music 131 student who lives nearby. Pleasant and cultured, Kunimune represents a world Kiyoko has never known. As she leaves, he shakes her hand. Back in her room, Kiyoko finds Mitsuko waiting for her, and together the two sisters survey the wreckage of their l i v e s . A violent storm springs up, and unable to sleep, the two women continue talking; Kiyoko stands by the window, her unhappy face l i t from time to time by flashes of lightning: In the distance came the sound of thunder. From time to time lightning dyed the room with a clear light...Kiyoko spoke: "Nuiko and even you, you've never understood my true feelings. You said you'd take care of me, but you've cared for me just like you would a dog or cat and given me no hope. I just want to study and forget about everything. Who gave birth to someone like me who can never make an ordinary marriage?!" The rain began. Sounding as i f i t would tear the earth apart, i t quickly enveloped the housetops, and spray blew in through the spaces around the glass in the door. The mosquito netting swelled out with the wind, and the roof began to leak in the hallway. Kiyoko continued standing by the window, gazing at the rooftops under the violently f a l l i n g rain. In the downpour, Kunimune's heuse slept peacefully. In the dark sky one or two bolts of sudden white lightning flashed in the distance. 14 Violent, dark, and gloomy, Inazuma seems brightened only by the ominous flashes at the work&s stormy ending. Like the lightning, Kiyoko, too lashes out in a last 132 defiant tirade, proclaiming her resentment of family, sisters, marriage, .Resentment does not necessarily imply surrender, however, and similar to the bolts of lightning which streak the night sky, Kiyoko*s defiance reveals the powerful spark of v i t a l i t y that sets her apart from the darkness around her. Nevertheless, just as one or two lightning bolts can never dispel the night's darkness, the flickering of this f i n a l scene seems also to imply that Kiyoko's v i t a l i t y , too, powerful though i t may be, may not in the end prove strong enough to vanquish the darkness of fate and unhappy circumstance. Kiyoko's determination to break free of her constricting l i f e and rise above i t in spite of a l l odds i s an attitude found primarily in Hayashi's early poems like "Kurushii uta" and in Horoki and i s l i t t l e seen in her second-period work. Here, however, in Inazuma, Hayashi again makes use of the dauntless heroine and creates a work in which the struggle for independence i s characterized not only by the defiance of the individual but also by the emphasis on violence and discord as concomitant factors of most human relationships. Hence, the ".lightning" of the t i t l e is an image which aptly conveys both the sense of spirited resistance as well as the feeling of tension and menace that characterize this work. 133 The ambivalence of this image underscores the ambivalence of Inazuma's conclusion, and thus, rather than an image of clar i t y and illumination, the lightning motif acts as a means of intensification, heightening the story's outcome and deepening, by contrast, the murky pa l l of misery and despair that hangs over this story. Therefore, instead of images of l i g h t , images of darkness pervade this work. Beginning with the rumbling of thunder in the darkest days of winter, Inazuma concludes on a dark stormy night in early autumn. Dark is the secondhand clothes shop where Mitsuko and Robei eke out their meagre living; dark, too, i s their relationship, f i l l e d with hidden doubts and suspicions that surface only in the depths of night when Robei calls out Nuiko's name or mumbles about baby carriages in his sleep. Dark and gloomy is Robei's death which serves only to reveal a secret mistress and plunge Mitsuko and the rest of the family into further lurid and degrading situations. A certain amount of obfuscation also surrounds Osei and her relationships with her various husbands. For example, Osei does not inform her daughters that Kasuke and Nuiko have different fathers, and with her dyed hair and untidy ways, she appears as a rather unseemly, i f not altogether disreputable sort of parent. The f i r s t time that we see Osei i s in the dark and dreary secondhand clothes shop, when she comes to 134 c a l l on Mitsuko and Kiyoko at the beginning of the story. Pretending not to notice a confrontation between Robei and Mitsuko over Nuiko, she sequesters herself in a room upstairs. Later in the kitchen, her shadow, mingling with those of 15 her two daughters, makes uneasy patterns on the wall, an image which serves to further increase the sense of apprehension and disquiet that seems to surround Osei and her mismatched brood. The fi n a l appearance of Osei in the story i s also dark, as she sits alone like an old crone in the shuttered kitchen of Mitsuko's ravaged shop, eating peaches, her eldest daughter i l l and hysterical upstairs. Of the sisters, Nuiko is portrayed in the darkest l i g h t . Cruel and manipulative, she has l i t t l e thought for anyone but herself. Her name, written with the character . ^ i ^ nui meaning to sew, or to s t i t c h , indicates further her tendency to twist, embellish, and embroider events to suit her own schemes. Given to sudden furies and foolish whims, Nuiko is the most unstable of a l l the sisters. Finally, used and abused by Tsunayoshi, Nuiko explodes in a violent rage, attacking Mitsuko, threatening Kiyoko, and eventually retreating into a kind of crazed self-pity. Mitsuko, the most timid of the sisters, is also surrounded by dark and dreary events. Her hopes for financial security are soon dashed by death and other unexpected losses, as her 135 faintheartedness leads her into a f i n a l ruinous dependency. Of a l l the family members, she i s the most benighted, a fact which makes the use of the character ml'tsu (light) for her name a l l the more ironic. Male characters, too, are portrayed in a sombre l i g h t . Both Robei, who dies a gruesome death, and Ryukichi, who loses his wife to Tsunayoshi, are heavy drinkers. The scene where a drunken Ryukichi begs Nuiko to come back to him and then vomits into the ashes of the charcoal brazier is perhaps one of the most dismal of the story. Kasuke, who lives in Osei's shadow, is himself ineffectual and a failu r e , forced f i n a l l y to find work in Manchuria. Even Kunimune whom Kiyoko finds attractive is rather an effete young man who entertains Kiyoko in a dark room l i t only by the moon. Only Tsunayoshi escapes our compassion, his brash and abusive personality bringing violence and disruption to several households. Although coarse and unsympathetic, Tsunayoshi nonetheless impresses by his sheer brutishness. Described frequently in terms of animal imagery (being like a "sea monster,"16 a " g o r i l l a , "1 7 a " l i o n , "1 8 and so on), Tsunayoshi's crudity and rapaciousness are emphasized by his bestial nature. Although wife-abusing husbands are ^familiar figures in Hayashi's work, particularly in the early periods, few descend to Tsunayoshi's depths. The 136 sl y , vulgar, money-grubbing Tsunayoshi figure w i l l appear again and again in different and more sophisticated guises in Hayashi"s later works, reaching his most c r a f t i l y despicable proportions as the scurrilous Iba in Ukigumo. In contrast to Tsunayoshi's heavy^handedness and the gloomy atmosphere that permeates this work, the figure of Kiyoko stands out as a positive and v i t a l force in an otherwise unrelieved progression of unhappy events. Her v i t a l i t y does not diminish, and throughout Inazuma Kiyoko maintains her youthful i f rather awkward strength and self-centredness. Kiyoko's defiant attitude i s not simply the result of her position as the "baby" of the family, who rebels when not allowed to have her own way, although this explanation for her behaviour i s advanced by her older sisters. Rather, Kiyoko i s , as her own mother observes, 19 "different." A high school graduate holding down her own job and intending to undertake further studies, Kiyoko has other aspirations than marriage. At the same time she is not averse to the attentions of suitable male friends, but the experiences of her sisters convince her that the enforced dependency of married women is not for her. Thus Kiyoko's inner struggle i s twofold. Similar to Masako in "Fukin to sakana no machi," Kiyoko, too, must strive to achieve maturity amidst trying circumstances; yet at the 137 same time she undertakes a further b a t t l e : the r e a l i z a t i o n of her own independence. Reflecting Kiyoko*s purity of conviction, the character for her name >TJ kiyo; which means pure and clean, helps to underline the sense of youthful strength and innocence that characterizes her person and her actions. Kiyoko*s purity also indicates a kind of apartness, which i s reinforced by her r e l a t i v e p o s i t i o n i n the story v i s a v i s the other characters. Nuiko, for example, sim i l a r to her mother, i s involved with three d i f f e r e n t men; she i s the centre of f i v e love t r i a n g l e s : Nuiko-Ryukichi-Robei, Nuiko-Robei-Mitsuko, Nuiko-Robei-Ritsu (Robei's secret mistress), Nuiko-Ryukichi-Tsunayoshi, and Nuiko-Tsunayoshi-Mitsuko. Besides her relationships with Nuiko, Tsunayoshi, and Robei, Mitsuko i s also unwittingly involved i n another triangular relationship with Robei and Ritsu. Kiyoko, by contrast, i s involved with no one. A l l her relationships are maintained at a certa i n remove from her own person. Kiyoko's strength and v i t a l i t y are thus p a r t l y related to her own v i r g i n a l state. Involvement with the opposite sex i n Inazuma, at l e a s t i n the case of the other female characters, seems to preclude any kind of true independence. Thus, Kiyoko attempts to remain uninvolved and unattached, resolving not to surrender to the importunate demands and f o o l i s h actions of others. 138 Just how strong this virginal resolve is can be seen f i r s t of a l l in her decision to live by herself and later in her wild fight with Tsunayoshi. Although she holds herself apart, Kiyoko is not devoid of feeling for others, and of a l l her family, she feels closest to Mitsuko. While the fact that Mitsuko and Kiyoko are f u l l sisters seems to account for some of this fellow feeling, there is one characteristic that the two women share which unites them more strongly than ties of blood, and that i s their deep-seated desire to transcend their squalid circumstances. Similar to Horoki and "Fukin to sakana no machi," Inazuma depicts a struggle in which the the inner wants and needs of the main protagonists are modified and tempered by the desire for achievement amid the external circumstances of l i f e . Thus, Mitsuko's innermost struggle to find fulfillment in love remains subordinate to and dependent upon her outward struggle for financial security. At the same time Kiyoko's inner, personal battle for maturity and independence is waged amid the setbacks and humiliations she must face as a lone woman struggling to live outside the family group. While earlier heroines were successful in achieving small personal victories as they struggled with the vicissitudes of external hardship, such is not the case in Ina zuma. Here, 139 the inner struggle is weakened and dominated by the outer. Hence, Mitsuko's bid for love i s always dependent upon financial concerns, and instead of escape from her situation, she finds herself drawn ever deeper into the mire of circumstance. It i s l e f t to Kiyoko with her contentious, no-nonsense attitude to find the lig h t , such as i t i s , at the end of this winding tunnel of misery and despair. Although Kiyoko does manage to escape the restrictions imposed on her by family obligation by the end of the story, i t seems to be at the expense of her own inner development. Instead of displaying a new-found maturity to match her hard-won independence, Kiyoko reacts to events like an angry chi l d , crying out in vexation against family and sisters. Thus, in Inazuma, the theme of struggle takes on a new, i f decidedly darker, tone. Somewhat reminiscent of the darkling atmosphere of "Fukin to sakana no machi" and the young Masako's struggle for independence and acceptance in the adult world, Inazuma exhibits few features which, like the dowa —esque elements of ''Fukin,'' would help to lighten the oppression and gloom that pervades this work. Instead, struggle descends into a maelstrom of violence and degradation so overwhelming that even Kiyoko's defiance appears as the merest of flashes in the dark night. 140 The brevity as well as the intensity of Kiyoko's dramatically defiant stance i s further reinforced by the narrative structure. Divided into twenty-nine unnumbered sections (numbered here for the sake of convenience), Inazuma is told primarily from Mitsuko's point of view. Occasionally in the beginning of the story (sections f i v e , six, and eight), Kiyoko's point of view is presented for a few brief paragraphs; yet i t is not until the f i n a l sections that Kiyoko's point of view comes to the fore (sections twenty to twenty-six, and section twenty-nine). Of the twenty-nine sections, only eight, a l i t t l e more than one quarter of the work, belong entirely to Kiyoko. The effect of this narrative division i s to particularly enhance Kiyoko*s point of view when i t does appear, and due to the generally startling nature of her observations, i t also gives her point of view a doubly arresting impact. The fact that Kiyoko*s point of view also chronicles some of the more turbulent events of the story — the fight between Mitsuko and Nuiko, Tsunayoshi's attack on Kiyoko, the lightning storm, and so on further contributes to the unexpected effectiveness of the story told from her point of view. Nonetheless, i t is primarily from the point of view of Mitsuko that Inazuma unfolds, and thus the sense of helplessness and foreboding, although somewhat mitigated 1 4 1 by Kiyoko's b r i e f appearances, i s never r e a l l y d i s p e l l e d . It i s not u n t i l the l a t t e r part of the story (sections sixteen to twenty^-nine) , when the contrast between Mitsuko's and Kiyoko's point of view i s f i n a l l y made cl e a r , that we see how both the depths of misery (Mitsuko) and the strength of passion (Kiyoko) that move these two protagonists contribute to the ambivalence of the story's end. In order to see how t h i s contrast achieves i t s e f f e c t , these f i n a l sections w i l l be looked at i n some d e t a i l . In Inazuma the author again makes use of a f a m i l i a r narrative progression that i s , the f i r s t half of the story (sections one to fifteen ) covers a period of about two weeks, while i n the l a s t part of the story (sections sixteen to twenty-nine) events proceed r a p i d l y , covering a longer time span of s i x to seven months. The slowly moving f i r s t half i s reminiscent of Hayashi's early l y r i c a l works only insofar as the narrative i s developed through the point of view of one figure, Mitsuko. Through her eyes the various characters are introduced, arid t h e i r situations gradually delineated. Later, a f t e r Robei's death, when Mitsuko moves from the premises of the secondhand clothes shop, the f o c a l point of the story s h i f t s , and as family and setting slowly begin to fragment and point of view becomes s p l i t between two characters, the stage i s set for a much more rapid progression of events. 142 Although a b a s i c a l l y l i n e a r chronology i s followed, matters become more complex near the end of the work. Both Kiyoko's t e l l i n g of the story (section twenty) and the return of Mitsuko's point of view (section twenty-seven) begin i n flashback. While Kiyoko's sections promptly return to the present and forward the action of the story, Mitsuko's sections (twenty-seven and twenty-eight) remain i n flashback. The f i n a l section twenty-nine, seen through Kiyoko's eyes, once again returns the reader to the present and brings Inazuma to an end. The flashback, i n both cases, i s used to chronicle Kiyoko's and Mitsuko's departures from t h e i r intolerable family s i t u a t i o n , and also to bring into p a r a l l e l the two d i f f e r e n t attitudes of two women who now f i n d themselves on t h e i r own. Thus, while Kiyoko immediately sets about making a new l i f e for herself, Mitsuko only runs to hide i n an inn. Kiyoko does not hesitate to borrow money from her father's wife, but Mitsuko, who also v i s i t s her father's house a f t e r her f i g h t with Nuiko, leaves without even stating the reason for her v i s i t , when she finds her father i s not at home. Mitsuko thinks only of the past, a past which, l i k e that of "Seihin no sho," seems s u l l i e d and unclean. She contemplates joining Robei i n death and returns tp t h e i r o ld shop and paces i n front of i t . F i n a l l y she goes to the temple where Robei's ashes are 143 interred, but as she sits praying, the smell of Tsunayoshi rises from her fingertips, and in despair over her weakness, she leaves. By contrast, Kiyoko thinks only of the present and plans for the future. She feels very happy in her hide-away, and after the scuffle with Tsunayoshi and the fight between Mitsuko and Nuiko, she determines to have nothing more to do with her relatives. Yet in the f i n a l section of the story, Kiyoko demonstrates an unexpected vulnerability. Watching Mitsuko weeping, she feels a sudden rush of love for her hapless family, even for the imprudent Osei and Nuiko. As she and Mitsuko talk over the past, Kiyoko is slowly overcome by feelings of despair, and in the f i n a l scene illuminated by the lightning, Kiyoko laments her fate, deeply resenting the hold her family and the past s t i l l have over her. The atmosphere of gloom and unhappiness that surrounds Mitsuko and the others has now begun to creep and curl about Kiyoko as well, seemingly undermining her self-confidence and distorting her youthful enthusiasm. Thus, the f i n a l scene of Inazuma, while attest-ing to Kiyoko's indefatigable dynamism which compels her to continue to lash out at l i f e ' s unfairness, also suggests that the passion to struggle on in l i f e ' s battle may not be enough to win out against the accumulative misery of oppression and misfortune. 144 Inazuma, Hayashi's f i r s t full—length "objective" novel centring upon the domestic l i f e of lower-class city dwellers, presents an extremely gloomy picture of one family's struggle with l i f e ' s vicissitudes. Marked by the depiction of violence and brutality as well as emphasizing the s t r i f e and discord to be found within the family group, Inazuma also chronicles in detail the death of one of the central characters, the f i r s t time such an event occurs in Hayashi's work. Not only is family l i f e viewed as unfortunate and inharmonious but relationships between men and women are also portrayed as mutually unsatisfactory, characterized throughout by intrigue and vicious entanglements that wreak havoc and destruction. Characterization, too, stresses the darker side of human nature, while the dominance of Mitsuko's point of view, together with the frustration of Kiyoko's fiery nature at the end of the work, contribute further to the gloom that pervades the story. In order to portray the convolutions of relationships as well as the intricacies of character, a more complex narrative structure i s in evidence, more "novelistic" and less diarylike-than earlier works, That i s , several events take place within one section,^feile ;one-section'leads smoothly into the next, and a l l sections work together to produce a consistent, interlocking narrative sequence. 145 Absent i s the episodic segmentation of '•*Seihin no sho" and "Fukin to sakana no machi." In i t s place is a nicely constructed, well-ordered narrative built around Mitsuko's muddled search for love and security and Kiyoko*s struggle for independence and self-fulfillment. The struggles of these two characters provide the overall narrative tension, which focuses on the conflict between the inner struggle (Mitsuko*s pursuit of love, Kiyoko's of maturity and indepen-dence) and outward concerns (Mitsuko*s struggle for money, Kiyoko's for freedom from family t i e s ) . Here, in Inazuma as in other third-period works, the outer struggle weakens and debilitates the inner. Mitsuko's attempt to find love and happiness is thus mitigated and corrupted by the outer struggle for financial security, while Kiyoko*s valiant bid for personal independence seems•likely to founder on the external demands of family and social obligation. The use of the flashback as well as of alternating points of view not only enhance the dramatic quality of this struggle but also provide an insight into two contrasting personalities that, although complementary, remain basically incompatible. This technique Hayashi would develop later to great effect in Ukigumo. At the same time, however, in spite of the author's developing technical a b i l i t y , the bright and hopeful quality of Hayashi's early works is missing from Inazuma. Missing 146 also i s Hayashi's intensely personal l y r i c i s m , and instead emphasis i s on the l i v e s of ordinary people and t h e i r mundane circumstances. In Inazuma, narrative development i s less bound up with the delineation of f e e l i n g than with the delineation of character and the movement of events. Even the slowly moving f i r s t h a l f of the story focuses more upon the depiction and development of character through s o c i a l i n t e r a c t i o n than upon the presentation of emotional experience. This can be seen p a r t i c u l a r l y well from the opening l i n e s of Inazuma where Mitsuko and Nuiko f i r s t appear, engaged i n conversation: Because there was nothing at a l l to say, the two were s i l e n t for awhile. The sky had been gloomy since morning, and now thunder began to rumble as i f portending snow. Mitsuko poured water into the t e a k e t t l e , and a f t e r a moment said: "Then Kasuke has a d i f f e r e n t father." "That's r i g h t ; you didn't know?" "I didn't know at a l l . I thought that Kiyoko and I were Takanezawa's c h i l d r e n , and that you and Kasuke were Soeda's. There's a family resemblance, I thought.,' "Kasuke and I look alike? That's r i d i c u l o u s . How can we?!" •'I said that because there's a l i t t l e resemblance i n your p r o f i l e s . You r e a l l y do look a l i k e . . . " Nuiko didn't reply to t h i s but sat_obstinately poking holes with a needle i n the sho j i nearest the charcoal b r a z i e r , 20 Dialogue, as i n the above passage, i s central to Inazuma. Focusing on the quotidian r e a l i t i e s of everyday, such 147 conversations contribute further to the sense of commonplace domesticity that characterizes this novel. Nevertheless, in spite of the fact that Inazuma demonstrates a "slice of l i f e " kind of realism, there yet remains a small but persis-tent undercurrent of poetic se n s i b i l i t y , observable primarily in the s k i l l f u l contrasting of dark with l i g h t , weakness with strength that marks the development of both character and narrative and, as a result, helps create and sustain the gloomy and brooding atmosphere that so effectively permeates this novella* Rather than alleviating the tensions engendered by such contrasts, however, the ascendance of the commonplace, and thus of the peremptory demands of outer circumstance over the exigencies of the inner struggle, produces a profound sense of unease and disquiet that cannot easily be dispelled and in fact is only heightened by the sudden shafts of light that shatter the dark night of the sisters' despair. CHAPTER 4 148 MATURITY: AMIDST THE HOPELESSNESS OF DEFEAT (1943-1949) Hayashi's endeavours throughout the late 1930's as journalist, war correspondent, and popular lecturer were to culminate in her eight-month sojourn in Southeast Asia from October 1942 to May 1943. Although this extended period abroad was later to provide the inspiration for one of her finest works, Ukigumo lfc (Drifting Clouds, 1949), much of Hayashi's creative activity during this time was not directed towards the writing of novels. Instead, her journalistic interests consumed much of her time and energy. Thus, while there i s a notable increase in the volume of her writings from 1936 onwards, there is not a corresponding increase in quality. Nowhere in the latter part of this middle period (c.1938-1942) do we find the bold innovation and impeccable artistry that marked Hayashi's early work. The late 1930's and early 1940's, therefore, represent a creative l u l l in Hayashi's career after the stormy early years, which l e f t in their wake such fine poetic-autobiographical works as Horoki, "Fukin to sakana no machi," and "Seihin no sho." As might be expected, then, works of the third period, with the exception of 149 Inazuma, "Kaki," or Nakimushi kozo, are larg e l y ignored by c r i t i c s , and although there i s much that i s good, there i s almost nothing that i s b r i l l i a n t . Intent on working within f a i r l y narrow confines of p l o t and character, Hayashi chose to concentrate on domestic themes and issues i n her novels and short s t o r i e s , seemingly conducting a kind of experimentation that was not to bear f r u i t u n t i l a f t e r the end of the war. Thus, the t h i r d period may be viewed as a time of preparation for the f u l l flowering of Hayashi*s a r t i n her mature fourth period. Before such a blossoming could occur, however, a f i n a l period of gestation seems to have taken place. In March 1944, due to the increasing severity of a i r raids on Tokyo, Hayashi, her newly adopted infant son, T a i , and her mother were forced to evacuate to the mountains of Nagano where they were to spend most of the next two years. Lonely and is o l a t e d , Hayashi suddenly found herself deprived of the stimulation and a c t i v i t y of the c i t y . For a person l i k e Hayashi, who was accustomed to and indeed seemed to thrive on an e x t r a o r d i n a r i l y active and busy l i f e , such p r o v i n c i a l e x i l e must have been almost unbearable. In her writings of t h i s time, there are numerous passages i n which the writer longs to return to Tokyo as well as one story i n p a r t i c u l a r i n which a group of young 150 evacuees from Tokyo attempt to escape from the mountains and return to the city they loye,;(Sakka no techo 4 [' ^ <?> $ f-fL A Writer's Notebook, 1946). Amidst the peace and tranquillity of a mountain village and without the pressures and distractions of l i f e in Tokyo, Hayashi was free once again to give herself over entirely to the dictates of her creative impulse. Almost as i f she were seeking out her own literary roots, Hayashi began again to write poetry and dowa. Although the dowa were written with the express purposes of amusing the village children and helping to pass the time,1 these short pieces also r e c a l l an earlier era in which the young Hayashi struggled to carve a niche for herself in the literary world of the day. In a sense, Hayashi seemed to be using this quiet time as a means of preparing yet again for another onslaught on the world of Japanese letters. Many of these dowa written in the mountains are animal fables, for example, "Tsuru no fue" f?.$j °> vb (The Crane's Flute) and "Kitsune monogatari" 4&\ #3 (Tale of a Fox) . Other stories, such as ''Kaeru*' £ i (Frog), "Kurara" (Kurara) , and "Onion kurabu" 4" I- £ ^  (The Onion Club), depict the world of childhood with sympathy and imagination. These tales along with others were brought out in a single volume collection by Kokuritsu Shoin |f|jL"f" *£---'in.1947,. entitled Kitsune monogatari. In a l l these stories, the world of 151 animals, like the world of children, is a place of purity and innocence. Forced into encounters with the world of adult human beings, both animals and children tend to fare rather badly, and in the majority of cases, they find refuge in their own world of beauty and fantasy. The desire to escape from unpleasant reality is a feature common to a number of these stories, and as a result, the struggle to realize beauty i s of particular significance. In her essay "Dowa no sekai" "§ *3 <5 -£ ^  (The World of Children's Tales, 1946), Hayashi comments, on the fact that the Japanese portrayal of animal figures i s traditionally dark, gloomy, 2 or absurd. Hoping to avoid such biased notions, Hayashi explains that she intends to depict creatures like foxes or monkeys as essentially virtuous through an emphasis on their innermost feelings, on their true "heart." Thus, just as Hayashi's early dowa once aided her attempts at prose by providing s t y l i s t i c and technical links with a poetic past, so, too, do these later mountain dowa serve as a means of joining past poetic and thematic concerns with those of the present. For Hayashi, writing dowa seems to have functioned as a means of a r t i s t i c exploration, and in the case of these later dowa, i t seems that through these stories Hayashi once again had discovered the inner poetic struggle for art and beauty, not only as a f i t t i n g literary theme in i t s e l f , but 152 also one which seemed to best express her own experiences and impulses, both in art and l i f e . Nowhere is this more evident than in Hayashi*s fourth period, where the search for beauty and a r t i s t i c perfection is brought to the fore in many of her finest works. Chief among these is the prize-winning short story, "Bangiku" fl^L £) (Late Chrysanthemum, 1948), one of Hayashi's best 4 known and also one of her most often translated works. Awarded the Women's Literary Prize in 1949, "Bangiku" remains one of Hayashi's most outstanding contributions to modern Japanese literature. Cited as one of the ten best shizen- shugi (naturalist) pieces ever written in Japan5 and seen by other c r i t i c s as absolutely "flawless,"*' "Bangiku" has received a great deal of favourable c r i t i c a l attention. The story of Kin, an aging geisha, and her efforts to remain young and desirable, "Bangiku" represents the apex of Hayashi's work in the short story format. It also offers a great deal of insight into Hayashi's attainment as a writer during th i s , her mature fourth period. Taking the struggle for aesthetic fulfillment as the principal thematic element, Hayashi also brings together the various other aspects of the inner personal struggle that have occupied her in the past (that i s , the struggle for love, the struggle for independence) and combines these in a well-wrought, subtly 153 i r o n i c t ale of an obstinate old woman whose very strength of w i l l proves to be her undoing. In Kin, the s t i l l b e a u t i f u l , but aging geisha, Hayashi fashions a character i n which the struggle for a r t i s t i c accomplishment overshadows and abrogates a l l other concerns. Always the consummate a r t i s t , Kin s t r i v e s to orchestrate even the most d i f f i c u l t of situations to s u i t her own tastes and advantage. When Tabe, a no longer young lover from Kin's past, turns up asking for money, Kin's b e a u t i f u l l y constructed facade begins to crumble under the combined weight of past memory and present r e a l i t y u n t i l f i n a l l y i t collapses altogether, with Kin dropping the only remaining token of her past love — a photo of Tabe as a young student — into the f i r e of her elegant b r a z i e r . Here, the search for beauty becomes a struggle to preserve the past and to bolster prosaic, e g o i s t i c concerns rather than to aid i n the achievement of love and understanding i n the present moment. Very much l i k e the Fumiko character of Horoki, Kin attains a kind of n a r c i s s i s t i c purity of s e l f from which others are excluded. Thus, although Kin wins out i n her struggle for beauty, i t i s a hollow v i c t o r y . Her dogged pursuit of an ever i l l u s o r y goal, i n the end, overwhelms and destroys her chances for happiness i n the outside world. The f a i l u r e of love, the emphasis on the past and i t s role 154 in the present, the thematic concern with the attainment of beauty as well as the destruction of outer circumstances by the struggle to attain inner goals are a l l elements which characterize this period of Hayashi's writing, and which are nowhere used with greater s k i l l or to better effect than in Ukigumo, the full-length novel which marks the peak of Hayashi's accomplishment in prose f i c t i o n . When Hayashi returned to Tokyo in October 1945, then, she brought with her new inspiration and fresh ideas. Rested and refreshed, she was now ready to embark upon the most incredibly p r o l i f i c period of her career. Her popularity, i f anything, had increased, and she began to turn out stories, novels, dowa, essays, and journalistic pieces with astonishing rapidity. Earlier works, such as "Fukin to sakana no machi" and Inazuma, were reprinted, and by 1946 at the age of forty-three, Hayashi stood once again firmly entrenched at the forefront of modern Japanese women writers. In 1947, Part III of Horoki began serialization in Ninon shosetsu ^ <}. . In the same year in the Mainichi newspaper Hayashi also began serializing Uzushio j ^" yfj^ (Whirling Tides)., the f i r s t of her novels written exclusively for newspaper serialization. Meshi, which w i l l be discussed in Chapter Five, would be the last of these long newspaper fic t i o n s . 155 The year 1949 proved to be Hayashi's most f r u i t f u l year. Besides her work on Ukigumo and other serious long fictions, she also produced a considerable number of excellent short stories, including "Suisen" 'IWJ* (Narcissus) which appeared in the February issue of Shosetsu shincho "Hone" 'fl (Bones) which came out in the same month in Chuo koron; ij> J£ £ , and "Dauntaun" T ^ X '(Downtown) which appeared in a special April edition of Shosetsu shincho. So p r o l i f i c was Hayashi during this period that Nakajima Kenzo 'T* {I7 fS^ , one of the early editors of Hayashi' s collected works, on looking over the great amount of unpublished material l e f t after her death, remarked wonderingly on Hayashi's daily output: "How much must she have written in 7* just one day"? Indeed, Hayashi's prodigious accomplishment surely reflects the great strength, determination, and sheer perseverance that drove her throughout her l i f e and career, and perhaps in the end proved to be the instrument of her ov/n early demise. Hayashi*s struggle to maintain her position as the foremost woman writer of the day must be viewed, of course, against the background of immediate postwar Japan, where literature, no longer silenced by wartime censorship, was once again given free rein. Released at last from the restrictions of the war years, Hayashi eagerly resumed 156 her varied and active l i t e r a r y career; yet due perhaps to her own past history of struggle and hardship, Hayashi remained sensitive to the sorrows and fr u s t r a t i o n s of the impoverished classes and chose to write not of the new l i f e and new opportunities heralded by the defeat but instead of the misery and suffering that, for many, accompanied the end of the war i n Japan. Without doubt, the end of the war brought r e l i e f from wartime hardship and p r i v a t i o n . Some authors, p a r t i c u l a r l y those of the p o l i t i c a l l e f t , such as Miyamoto Yuriko, who had suffered greatly at the hands of Japan's m i l i t a r i s t s , saw the end of the war as a kind of liberation/, which indeed for them, i t was. At the same time, however, as Okubo Norio 'KKl&^K. points out i n his a r t i c l e on Ukigumo, i t was the works of the so-called "hiftilistic"' ,:v^iters-_lj;ker'-D;azai Osamu K ? (19 09-1948) and novels l i k e Hayashi Fumiko's Ukigumo which best succeeded i n plumbing the depths of the defeat and i t s e f f e c t on the Japanese psyche i n the 8 postwar years. Rather than r e j o i c i n g i n l i b e r a t i o n as does 9 Miyamoto, Hayashi "catches hold of the defeat" and thus consequently, of the great loneliness and unhappiness that seized much of the populace i n immediate postwar Japan. Although Hayashi deals with the war years both i n Japan and abroad i n a few of her postwar writings, most of her work 157 in this fourth period treats the aftermath of war and i t s effect on the minds and hearts of ordinary people. By "catching hold of the defeat," Hayashi also seems to have captured the hearts of her readers and thus, whether consciously or unconsciously, ensured her own immense postwar popularity.; Although Hayashi explores the emptiness and despair of postwar Japan in the works of her fourth period, she continues to make use of the element of struggle for survival and success that characterized her early works. Thus, for Hayashi, defeat does not necessarily imply the inability to carry on. Here, instead, the struggle i s intensified, as hardships become greater and inner needs more profound. Throughout this period, Hayashi presents characters that find themselves caught up in a world they can no longer understand, and unable to cope, they either turn to the past for inspiration and reassurance, or, unable to meet death or t o secure some other escape from an unbearable existence, they struggle blindly onwards, their continuing battle in the face of hopelessness serving inadvertently to reaffirm the essence of their humanity. Of a l l Hayashi's fourth-period works. Ukigumo is the most outstanding, both in i t s portrayal of human beings caught up in war and i t s aftermath and in the depiction of 158 their struggle to come to terms with themselves and each other. As in f'Bangiku,'! Hayashi brings together elements of the inner personal struggle, particularly the struggles for love and for beauty, and juxtaposing these with the struggle for survival as well as with other aspects from earlier works, produces a novel that must easily stand as one of Hayashi's finest. Although a superlative work of prose f i c t i o n , Ukigumo also possesses a strong poetic quality that recalls Hayashi's l y r i c a l past and adds greatly to the work's appeal. In order to see how the author achieves such success, this chapter w i l l now examine Ukigumo in terms of theme, characterization, structure, imagery, and style, thereby ascertaining not only the importance of this work within the context of Hayashi's literature but also i t s significance as a work of literature in i t s own right. In her 1951 postscript to Ukigumo, Hayashi comments on the fatigue and exhaustion she f e l t upon finishing this long work, which occupied her for over three years and which she even grew to hate.^ Although much of Hayashi's weariness may ho doubt be blamed upon her f a i l i n g health and propensity for overwork, she makes no other such comment about similarly lengthy pieces on which she was working during the same 159 period, and thus Hayashi*s exhaustion with Ukigumo must i n part be connected with the nature of the novel i t s e l f a, work which has as i t s nucleus the emptiness and f u t i l i t y of human existence. Focusing on the aftermath of war, Ukigumo chronicles the mental and emotional anguish, lack of purpose, and general malaise that pervades the l i v e s of those who f i n d themselves back i n Japan at the end of World War II a l i v e , i t seems, only i n body. Exhaustion of heart and mind coupled with the trauma of defeat are major factors i n the psychology of the two p r i n c i p a l characters, Koda Yukiko and Tomioka Kenkichi, who must now, afte r t h e i r return from an i d y l l i c stay i n wartime Indochina, t r y to rebuild t h e i r l i v e s amidst the ashes and ruins of Tokyo. No matter which way Yukiko and Tomioka turn, nothing seems to go r i g h t . Yukiko, for example, arrives back i n Japan to f i n d that Tomioka has returned to his wife and does not seem to wish to renew t h e i r wartime a f f a i r . The inconstancy that marks Yukiko's and Tomioka's rel a t i o n s h i p i s one of the primary elements that heighten and sustain the sense of f u t i l i t y that permeates" Ukigumo. Yukiko's thoughts upon her a r r i v a l at the port of Tsuruga emphasize the capriciousness of mood and sentiment which dominates the actions of the p r i n c i p a l characters from the 160 beginning pages of the story. Sending a telegram to Tomioka who does not reply, Yukiko r e f l e c t s : ...he had promised he would make a l l preparations and wait for her, but upon her a r r i v a l i n Japan, when she stood facing the cold wind of present r e a l i t y , i t seemed l i k e the promises made between Urashima Taro and the princess...During her three days [in TsurugaJ , Tomioka had not replied.- If matters had been reversed, she might have done the same, Yukiko thought, somehow resigning herself to the in e v i t a b l e . 11 Thus, even though Yukiko and Tomioka have pledged t h e i r love, i t does not seem l i k e l y that Tomioka w i l l uphold his part of the bargain, while Yukiko, although disappointed, i s hardly surprised and can e a s i l y imagine herself treating Tomioka i n the same way. The Urashima Taro simile n i c e l y emphasizes both the wraith-like q u a l i t y of Yukiko's and Tomioka's broken promise as well as Yukiko's Rip Van Winkle-like return from a distant paradise to a r a d i c a l l y changed Japan. The inconstancy of love as well as the uncertainties of present existence i n a war-torn country are enhanced further when Yukiko and Tomioka meet for the f i r s t time i n Tokyo amid the debris of a bomb-site. Yukiko, s i t t i n g i n poor clothes on a tumble-down wall, excites no emotion i n Tomioka, and Yukiko for her part finds Tomioka looking old and tireci; l i k e a completely d i f f e r e n t man. 161 With nowhere to go, Yukiko i s forced to stay with a caretaker family l i v i n g i n the house of her brother-in-law, Iba Sugio, who i s s t i l l l i v i n g as an evacuee i n the country. Iba, a repulsive , opportunistic fellow, i s roundly despised by Yukiko for his sexual abuse of her as a young g i r l . Hard up for money, Yukiko thus f e e l s no compunction about s e l l i n g some of Iba's belongings to buy a coat and to pay for a cheap hotel room. Although Tomioka promises to help Yukiko f i n a n c i a l l y and v i s i t s her occasionally i n the shabby hotel, he soon forgets his promise and abandons Yukiko to her fate. Reduced once more to penury, Yukiko returns to Iba's, s e l l s off the re s t of his possessions and moves into a shed. Too disheartened to even begin looking for work, Yukiko d r i f t s e a s i l y into a l i a i s o n with Joe, an American s o l d i e r , who supplies her with a number of luxurious items. When Tomioka f i n a l l y does come to see Yukiko, i t i s only after a business venture has f a i l e d , and he has f a l l e n on hard times. Yukiko, pleased i n spite of herself, i s quick to desert the generous American when Tomioka proposes a t r i p to Ikao, a hotspring resort i n the mountains of Gumma Prefecture. Ikao reminds Yukiko of the b e a u t i f u l Dalat forest i n Indochina, where she and Tomioka l i v e d during the war. Although Yukiko and Tomioka plan to commit suicide together i n Ikao, t h e i r resolve soon 162 dissipates in the apathy engendered by drink and the false bonhomie of shared memories. Later, Tomioka meets Osei, the young, sleepy-eyed wife of a local bar proprietor, and becomes madly infatuated with her, spurning Yukiko with much less grace but just as quickly as Yukiko herself dropped the American, Joe. Osei, who reminds Tomioka of Nu, his mistress in Indochina, returns his affection with surprising ardour. In a scene of dissolute abandon, with Yukiko lying oblivious nearby and singing drunkenly, Tomioka recklessly clasps Osei to him, while her husband sleeps in the next room: Although some kind of moral consideration clung to his brow, Tomioka deep in his heart despised Yukiko and Osei's husband. He thought that Osei's charms could somehow make him live again. He f e l t a fiery excitement and wished wholeheartedly that both Yukiko and Osei1s husband would disappear from his sight. 12 From this point onward, the relationship between Tomioka and Yukiko degenerates into a quagmire of petty squabbles and misunderstandings, as Yukiko persists in pursuing Tomioka, while he determines to escape her attentions in any way he can. The two return to Tokyo only to part. Osei, who has followed Tomioka to Tokyo, i s pursued ,by her husband who murders her in a f i t of jealous rage. Meanwhile, Yukiko 163 finds herself pregnant with Tomioka*s child, and rejected by Tomioka, she must borrow money from the hated Iba for an abortion. Frantic with jealousy when she realizes she cannot prevail over the dead Osei's memory, Yukiko is even more furious when she finds Tomioka in the company of a teen-age runaway. In anger and desperation, she again turns to the unscrupulous Iba for assistance. Iba, a ruthless and self-serving schemer, who has much in common with such figures as Tsunayoshi in Inazuma, i s the only person who seems to be getting along well in l i f e . Having obtained a job as treasurer of a new religious sect, the Ohinata-kyo, Iba, in league with the sect founder, uses his position as a means of fleecing the public. Amused by Iba's tactics, which seem like a simple way of making a l i v i n g , Yukiko takes a job as his assistant and begins to live in elegant circumstances. When Tomioka, in search of money to pay his wife's funeral expenses, turns up at the Ohinata-kyo headquarters, he is astounded at Yukiko's rejuvenation and suddenly makes love to her. Yukiko, unable to forget Tomioka's embraces, imagines that at last there i s no obstacle to keep them apart. In her euphoria, she steals ¥600,00& from -the Ohinata-kyo safe and flees to an inn in Mishima from whence she summons Tomioka. Appalled yet stimulated by Yukiko's 164 actions/ Tomioka t e l l s Yukiko he has no intention of liv i n g with any woman. He reveals a plan to work in the lonely forests on the island of Yakushima, where he has just been offered a job. Yukiko begs him to take her along. Although Tomioka refuses at f i r s t , when Yukiko pays off the legal debts for Osei's husband, he finds i t more and more d i f f i c u l t to object. No longer in!love, indeed, no longer able to love yet bound by the past to Yukiko, Tomioka f i n a l l y gives i n . On the run from Iba and the dismal reality of their present lives and bound for an unknown island where they hope to recapture the i d y l l i c past, Yukiko and Tomioka leave Tokyo on a night train for Kagoshima. The journey to Yakushima proves to be a far cry from the fondly remembered voyage to the wartime south, however, as Yukiko suddenly f a l l s seriously i l l . Her condition rapidly deteriorating, Yukiko nevertheless presses on with her lover until they reach the isolated, rain-soaked Yakushima, where Tomioka i s sent to work in the mountains, and Yukiko, alone in a rustic shack, dies a miserable and painful death, suffocating in her own blood. Left on his own, Tomioka returns briefly to Kagoshima, and as he reflects on his few remaining options in l i f e , Ukigumo draws to a close: 165 Tomioka didn't have the heart to go back to Yakushima. But he couldn't bear to leave Yukiko's remains buried alone on that island. Besides, what was there for him should he return to Tokyo now? Tomioka thought of himself as a drifting cloud; a drif t i n g cloud that would just fade and disappear, sometime, somewhere. 13 Thus, rather than bringing r e l i e f to an intolerable situation, Ukigumo builds to a claustrophobic conclusion, where amidst the s t i f l i n g atmosphere of thwarted hopes and lost dreams, Yukiko and Tomioka fi n a l l y collapse, exhausted by their struggles. While the cumulative effect of such a hopelessly lingering, f u t i l e relationship as that shared by Yukiko and Tomioka is ultimately unsettling, i t is also the contrast provided by Yukiko's persistence and dogged determination in the face of utter desolation that aids in arousing further the sense of loss and defeat. Yukiko, who tries so hard and struggles so boldly, w i l l never succeed. It is the failure of this potentially bright and v i t a l figure rather than that of the plodding, emotionally apathetic Tomioka that contributes most poignantly to the sense of f u t i l i t y generated by Ukigumo. Similar to Inazuma and the other domestic novellas of the third period, Ukigumo, too, explores in detail the disjunctiveness of human relationships, in particular, the d i f f i c u l t y and even impossibility of sustaining a mutual 166: love relationship. In Ukigumo Yukiko and Tomioka come together only to part; neither is truly capable of cementing the affair wholly nor of ending i t cleanly. A study in inconstancy, Ukigumo depicts not only the ins t a b i l i t y of postwar society in a defeated country but also the fickleness of two people uncertain of their own as well as of each other's feelings. Kawazoe Kunimoto )•{ (*•) ^  , who discusses Hayashi's portrayal of male-female relationships, sees the farewell (wakare ii/ ) as a major theme in 14 Hayashi's works, and while this can also be observed in Ukigumo, i t must be noted that in Ukigumo the farewell i s of a very peculiar type; never quite consummated, i t remains forever in flux, very much like the floating cloud that so appropriately serves as Ukigumo's principal motif. A typical and even, as some c r i t i c s say, "composite" 15 Hayashi heroine, Yukiko fights against this instability and against her own fate up until the bitter end. Throughout the story, her character remains a volatile blend of passion, impulsiveness, determination, and romanticism that i s easily reminiscent of other earlier protagonists, particularly of Fumiko in Horoki. At the same time, similar to the aging geisha of ''Bangiku," Yukiko's inner personal struggle represents a merger of earlier aspects. Uppermost in her desires is the attainment of pure love (through her relation-167 ship with Tomioka) as well as the recapturing of the beauty of that love (through a re-creation of the Indochina paradise). Thus, she has no desire to return to her family in the country nor to Iba's, where she had f i r s t lived when she came to Tokyo before the war. Even finding work as a typist does not appeal to her. Living alone in the shed, however, proves to be exceedingly wearisome, and Yukiko is soon overcome by the apathy and boredom engendered by such a solitary existence: The flame of the candle flickered in the draught from the chinks in the wooden walls and at times began to go out. Feeling discouraged, Yukiko wondered whether she could continue to endure such a lonely l i f e . Even the bucket of water in the corner made her feel cold. She thought there was a small happiness in living like t h i s , but such an uneasy happiness that she could not know what tomorrow might bring. 16 Desiring certainty and security in an uncertain and insecure world, Yukiko lacks the one-pointed, virginal determination of Kiyoko in Inazuma or the strong sense of self-preservation evinced by Kin in "Bangiku," and very much like Kiyoko's sister, Mitsuko, Yukiko finds i t d i f f i c u l t i f not impossible to sustain her own independence once involved with members of the opposite sex. Eventually forced to take up Iba's offer of employment, Yukiko finds herself living in the lap of luxury and manages 168 to acquire her own rather large bank account. Yet t h i s new independence and prosperity does not bring contentment. Yukiko feels a hunger that cannot be s a t i s f i e d . Her unsat i s f i e d craving i n the midst of freedom and plenty i s akin to her feelings of acute loneliness when united with Tomioka. Somehow, the wonderful ex h i l a r a t i o n experienced i n Indochina cannot be recaptured, as i n the following scene where Yukiko and Tomioka meet i n a cheap hotel i n Tokyo: Although warmed by Tomioka's body, inside Yukiko was annoyed. Wanting something more vi o l e n t , more passionate, she f e l t his conduct was merely that of a man seeking temporary pleasure. Yukiko r e c a l l e d she had f e l t l i k e t h i s with Iba during the secret three years she had spent with him. She had impatiently wanted something stronger, and Yukiko longed to search out something stronger from Tomioka. Tomioka, too, embracing the woman, f e l t unutterably lonely and kept stretching out his hand to r e f i l l his glass with beer. Yukiko sighed frequently and, munching sushi, threw her warm legs out onto the tatami. 17 Something i s missing from Yukiko's l i f e even when she attains her heart's desire, something which i t seems not even Tomioka can give her. E s s e n t i a l to an understanding of Ukigumo, t h i s missing je ne sals quois i s c l o s e l y connected with (1) the character of Tomioka and also with (2) the manner i n which both he and Yukiko come to view t h e i r past 169 l i f e together. These two aspects of their relationship w i l l now be examined in order to determine the exact nature of this indefinable dissatisfaction and of i t s importance in relation to the rest of the work. Compared to Yukiko, Tomioka is a much less v i t a l creature. Confounded and shamed by the defeat, exhausted by his postwar l i f e , weary of women, Tomioka contemplates suicide both alone and with Yukiko. Although attracted by her warmth andidetermination, Tomioka finds Yukiko, like his wife, Kuniko, too demanding. Sensing both Yukiko's and Kuniko's possessiveness, Tomioka turns to the less demanding, more passive Osei, who, with her easy nonchalance, reminds Tomioka very much of Nu, his Indochinese mistress who bore him a child. Yet these women, too, although more suited to the phlegmatic Tomioka, possess a disturbing sensuality that Tomioka finds disconcerting: Looking out the window, Tomioka saw pSJu] standing in the large flower garden. She was wearing a cool^looking light tan dress. , Tomioka f e l t envious of her tirelessness, her healthy feminine strength. After that long kiss [last nightj , she had tittered like an insect, and Tomioka could not begin to fathom her true feelings. 18 Unable to match Yukiko's fervour or to become fu l l y committed either to Nu or to Osei, Tomioka remains an outsider.to passion. 170 Although frequently consumed by lust, Tomioka brings l i t t l e emotional depth to his relationships with others, and in the fi n a l analysis, he seems to have more feeling for the great forest trees of Indochina and yakushima than for other flesh and blood human beings. It is in these magnificent yet distant forest lands that Tomioka seems to find true peace and comfort. Tomioka's inner struggle i s therefore primarily a struggle for beauty, a struggle to recapture the now unattainable beauty of the lost Indochinese paradise. His continuing relationship with Yukiko as well as the new affa i r with Osei are but vain attempts to regain some small part of this vanished land. Occasionally Tomioka attempts to find beauty in his present surroundings, yet even here he tends to focus on the past and on a non-human object. Walking with Yukiko in Tokyo one night, Tomioka stops to look at an old palace: The misery of the defeated is beautiful, too. Don't, you think so? I don't know what this building i s used for now, but long ago i t was an Imperial residence. Its memory s t i l l lingers here, and somehow i t has the power to move me. 19 Tomioka's sensitivity, however, seems limited to forests and old buildings, and by the end of the story his struggle for beauty has come to nought, as he finds himself caught i 7 i up in a limbo from which there i s no escape. Thus, Tomioka's continued survival at the end of. Ukigumo contributes further to the sense of existential despair evoked by this novel, leaving the reader not with a feeling of the warmth and v i t a l i t y of l i f e as seen in the figures of Osei, Nu, or Yukiko but rather with the sense of l i f e ' s f u t i l i t y , of existence as something that often continues to exist in spite of i t s e l f , unreasoning, uncacing, ..aimless, without meaning or significance, a mere drifting wisp of empty sensation. Instability is therefore very much a part of Tomioka's character. From the beginning of the story to the end, Tomioka is the most unreliable of men. Even Iba is more helpful. Tomioka's general unfaithfulness and shabby treatment of Yukiko, however, is related not only to his own selfishness but also to his rather shaky hold on the rea l i t i e s of the new world in which he finds himself. Here, in the portrayal of a masculine psychology unable to cope with the shame, sorrow, and hardship engendered by war and defeat, Hayashi has created one of the most memorable of her unfortunate male characters. Recalling the unhappy Ryukichi of Inazuma, the hapless pouchmaker of "Kaki," and other victimized male figures, such as the father in "Fukin to sakana no machi," Tomioka stands out as Hayashi's 172 most c h i l l i n g example of a man gradually reduced to nothingness as much by the sheer force of circumstance as by the flaws of his own character. As success in the postwar world slips steadily beyond his grasp, Tomioka retreats more and more into the past. Taking refuge in his memories of Indochina, Tomioka strives to turn his experiences in the Annamese forests into saleable products by writing articles for various magazines, but th i s , too, not unexpectedly, meets with failure. Unable to regain the past or to succeed in the present, Tomioka becomes increasingly obsessed with these very desires, hence his attraction for Yukiko. This attraction is dependent upon two related factors, that i s , how well Yukiko herself seems to be succeeding in the postwar world as well as. how closely her looks resemble those of the fresh and beautiful Yukiko of Indochina. Finding Yukiko prospering under the attentions of the American, for example, Tomioka experiences feelings of envy and jealousy, and once again desires her, overcome by a "fierce appetite as i f for a fish escaping [capture] ,"2^ And later, meeting Yukiko at the Ohinata-kyo headquarters, Tomioka desires her again, when he finds Yukiko "completely changed from the Yukiko of the summertime; nicely f i l l e d out and glowing with youth, she once again 2 1 looked like the Yukiko of Indochina." Yet when Yukiko 17 r comes to Tomioka's after her abortion, she i s wearing shabby, clothes which reveal her unshaven legs. Tomioka cannot believe she is the same person as the beautiful Yukiko of Dalat, and he does not hesitate to reject her. Thus, only when Yukiko manages to f u l f i l l Tomioka's fantasies of the past or sustain his dreams of the present does Tomioka find their relationship bearable. Yet, as Ukigumo draws to a close, and Tomioka and Yukiko embark upon their last journey together, Tomioka finds himself drawn to Yukiko in spite of her serious i l l n e s s . This change of heart, however, does not presage any change in the character of Tomioka but is related:;- _r, directly to the escape from Tokyo (the present) and the shared attempt to rediscover Indochina (the past) in the forests of Yakushima. This is made even more clear at the end of the story, where Tomioka finds himself moved not so much by Yukiko's li v i n g presence as by her memory, as Yukiko, through her death, becomes incorporated into the vast body of Tomioka's past recollections of Indochina, which have provided much of the impetus for Yukiko's and Tomioka's postwar a f f a i r . Thus, while Tomioka's fickleness seems closely related to his inability to find any purpose or meaning amidst the wreckage of the postwar world, Yukiko's alternating bouts of despair and desire seem to reflect 174 her own inability to find any purpose or meaning in her relationship with Tomioka or indeed with any man. Just as Tomioka struggles to re-create the beauty of the past in the present world, so does yukiko strive to relive this beautiful past by giving her love to Tomioka.I". Consequently, the mutual indecisiveness and inconstancy of feeling that so pervades Yukiko's and Tomioka*s relationship is directly connected to the idealization of their wartime l i f e in Indochina. This is the only tie that truly binds Yukiko and Tomioka together — their shared memories of this paradisiacal land where they once lived and loved in harmony and contentment. Not since "Seihin no sho" has Hayashi created such a pleasant, idealized world as exists in the Dalat of Ukigumo. Here, similar to the azalea-surrounded bungalow of Hayashi's earlier short story, love and beauty flourish side by side. Yet, unlike "Seihin no sho," the privations of poverty do not intrude. Instead, against the colonial French background of elegantly white-washed buildings, mimosa-surrounded tennis courts, vast woodlands f i l l e d with white peacocks, stately trees, and the remnants of an ancient c i v i l i z a t i o n , palat emerges as a land of fairytale,. . where one glorious day is replaced by another and where the excitement of new love is as heady and intoxicating as the perfume of any tropical flower. 175 In contrast to "Seihin no sho" where the past was treated as a hindrance and as an impurity, the past in Ukigumo appears as a pure and blessed realm whose continued existence i s entirely desirable. Indeed, the past i s the only bright spot in a world gone hopelessly askew. The sojourn in Dalat, then, i s a kind of story within a story, told through lengthy flashbacks or through shorter memory sequences that appear throughout the main framework of Ukigumo. As such, the Dalat episodes help to maintain the striking contrast between past and present, inner and outer that is such a striking feature, both thematically and structurally, of Ukigumo. Fi r s t glimpsed through the eyes of Yukiko who arrives there in October 1943, Dalat, a forestry station to the north of Saigon, i s bright and exotic, a far cry from the hard, austere world of wartime Japan. Sent as a typist for the Ministry of Agriculture and Forestry, Yukiko is at once fascinated by her new surroundings. Here, she comes to know Tomioka, a stubborn, silent man, who at f i r s t ignores her, and Kano, his friend, who i s immediately attracted to Yukiko's simple good looks. Rejecting Kano's attentions, Yukiko follows Tomioka into the forest one day, where, overcome by Yukiko's homely qualities that remind him of his wife back in Japan, Tomioka suddenly embraces her. 1'7'6 Innocently pleased at haying managed to a t t r a c t such a d i f f i c u l t man, Yukiko rejoices in t h i s , her f i r s t love. Tomioka does nothing to discourage her, and the affair continues for over two years. One night, Kano, in -a drunken rage and driven to distraction by Tomioka1s success with Yukiko, slashes Yukiko's arm with his sword, a wound which leaves a scar.. Nevertheless, this is small violence compared to the war raging throughout Southeast Asia; and yet, fortunately for Yukiko and Tomioka, Dalat remains untouched by any of the fighting. Wartime thus comes to represent not so much a time of death and destruction as a time of romantic attachment and excitement. Yukiko"s and Tomioka's hardships do not begin until they return to Japan, where, amidst the postwar rubble, their wartime happiness begins to take on the nature of a "war-crime" for which 22 they are now to be punished.' The Dalat. story, then, depicts an i d y l l i c , almost heavenly existence, where, as i f in a fairytale, the beautiful young g i r l and her handsome lover seem destined to live happily ever after. Indeed, Dalat is referred to as a fairytale .-. land throughout Ukigumo. Akin to the undersea palace of the dragon king in Urashima Taro legends, Dalat's marvelous beauty also recalls the magical ambience of "Fukin to sakana no machi" and other: dowa stories. And, also 177 as in Urashima Taro and "Fukin," the enchanted existence once lost is gone forever. As a result, throughout Uk igumo, both Yukiko and Tomioka must struggle with the fact that Dalat has now passed forever from their l i v e s . In order to live more f u l l y in the present, both Yukiko and Tomioka must give up the past? yet this they cannot do. Regaining the beauty and happiness they once knew in Indochina becomes an obsession which comes to dominate the innermost psyches of both characters, and thus in Ukigumo the inner struggle becomes a pursuit of the chimeras of the past and no longer functions as a positive and revitalizing force for self-rejuvenation and self-preservation as in earlier works. By further emphasizing the outer place of struggle as a new world that can spawn such strange creatures as generous foreign soldiers, unscrupulous peddlers of new religions, and delinquent young g i r l s , and by emphasizing the inner space of struggle as a world based on nothing more substantial than old memories, the author also successfully portrays the failure and s t e r i l i t y of the past amid the shocking newness of the present. Unlike Horoki and other works of Hayashi's earlier periods, where the inner struggle brought personal fulfillment in spite of outer d i f f i c u l t i e s , the inner struggle in Ukigumo brings about the fin a l collapse and destruction of both 1*8 Yukiko and Tomioka, Also, in contrast to earlier works, outward events in Ukigumo, although d i f f i c u l t and adverse, follow an upward swing, particularly in the case of Yukiko, who meets with unexpected good fortune at the hands of the American soldier and later through the wily Iba and his fraudulent religious sect. Only Yukiko's death prevents her from realizing her fondest hope -- to live yet again with her old lover. Tomioka, too, in spite of his many failures, eventually succeeds in securing a job that w i l l take him back to the forests he loves. In Ukigumo, then, the struggle with external events exhibits some improvement and success, while the inner struggle only serves to negate and destroy such achievement. As both Yukiko and Tomioka strive to recapture the love and beauty of the past, they succeed only in destroying the present. Thus, the contrast between the inner and outer struggles in Ukigumo is the reverse of that in Horoki and other early works. At the same time, the use of this inner-outer contrast is much more complex than in early writings. In Ukigumo Hayashi has created a work in which these two aspects continually intertwine, coincide, and overlap and yet also remain utterly separate and apart. In order to see how this contrast is utilized to impart the deep sense of ennui and discontent experienced by both Yukiko and Tomioka, 179: point of view and structure w i l l now be examined. Consisting of sixty <-seyen chapters, Ukigumo is written in the third person with point of view alternating between Yukiko and Tomioka. Although most chapters follow either Yukiko"s or Tomioka's point of view entirely, Yukiko's predominates, while roughly one-third of Ukigumo consists of chapters in which the points of view of both characters are intermingled. Occasionally the point of view of certain minor figures, such as Kano or Iba, is presented, thereby providing comment on the actions of Yukiko or Tomioka. However, this kind of outside viewpoint is rare, and the reader's attention is focused primarily on what Yukiko or Tomioka think and f e e l . Nonetheless, even though the thoughts and emotions of the two principal characters are presented with cl a r i t y and vividness, never once does either Yukiko or Tomioka fu l l y or truly apprehend what the other is actually experiencing. Their hearts and minds remain forever closed to each other. Even when lost in nostalgic recollections of Indochina, both Yukiko and Tomioka can be seen to pursue different trains of thought and to respond differently to each recollection and are thus almost totally incapable of communicating with one another. For example, in one instance, Tomioka, drunk in the hotel room at Ikao, begins to sing a love-song from Indochina, and Yukiko, 180 enticed by the memories the song conjures up, clings to Tomioka and asks to share his thoughts; "I'm lonely, lonely, so terribly lonely," Yukiko cried softly,, clinging to Tomioka's breast. Looking hard at the., woman' s hysterical outburst, Tomioka.was not able to feel a t h i n g . He thought only that a woman's feelings flow past in an instant, like water under a window. Actually, Tomioka was thinking about how he could best k i l l Yukiko and himself. .23 The fact that Tomioka and Yukiko are never able to communicate on a deep or meaningful level throughout Ukigumo is the principal factor which creates and sustains the mutual inconstancy that marks their relationship and which, by i t s continual negation of positive human interaction, underlines further the hollowness and ultimate emptiness of the inner realm. The narrative structure of Ukigumo also reinforces the inner-outer, past-present co n f l i c t . Although Ukigumo begins with Yukiko' s. return to Japan . (chapter" 1) and to Tokyo (chapter 2), the story soon retreats into the past with a lengthy flashback extending from chapters 3 to 12. Here, the main Dalat story is presented, a story which is developed further through shorter flashbacks in chapters 14, 21, 26, and 27 as well as by shorter 'recollection's of Dalat by both Yukiko and Tomioka throughout Ukigumo. • The main Dalat 181 f l a s h b a c k of chapter 3 to 1 2 , however, comes to an end i n a scene a t the beginning of chapter 13/ where Yukiko wakes to the r a i n and to the dawning r e a l i z a t i o n that*, the p a s t does indeed e x i s t o n l y i n memory: The r a i n had become a downpour. The sound of the r a i n i n the g u t t e r p i p e s was l i k e a w a t e r f a l l , and Yukiko was suddenly brought back to the p r e s e n t . F e e l i n g depressed, she c o u l d n ' t go back to s l e e p . Her b r i l l i a n t memories of Indochina continued to form and re-form l i k e a k a l e i d o s c o p e w i t h i n her head. Perhaps because i t was c h i l l y so near to dawn, she f e l t c o l d under o n l y one q u i l t and c o u l d not s l e e p . T i r e d as mud, i t was t h i s sense of camping out t h a t made her f e e l uneasy. With a l o n e l i n e s s she hadn't the s t r e n g t h t o r e s i s t , Yukiko l a y w i t h her eyes open i n the dark, l i s t e n i n g to the h e a v i l y f a l l i n g r a i n . 24 As the memories of D a l a t d i s s o l v e i n the f r e e z i n g r a i n of p r e s e n t r e a l i t y , the stage i s s u i t a b l y s e t f o r the ensuing s t o r y of chapters 13 to 31, d e p i c t i n g Yukiko's and Tomioka's l i f e immediately a f t e r t h e i r r e t u r n to Japan, up to and i n c l u d i n g the i l l - f a t e d t r i p t o Ikao. The i n t e r t w i n i n g of the D a l a t episodes and the Tokyo-Ikao n a r r a t i v e c r e a t e s from the o u t s e t of the s t o r y not o n l y the sense of i r r e c o n c i l a b l e c o n f l i c t between p a s t and p r e s e n t , i n n e r and o u t e r , but a l s o a sense of the i n t e r c o n n e c t e d n e s s of two separate r e a l i t i e s , which, l i k e the h e a r t s and minds of Yukiko and Tomioka themselves, appear d i a m e t r i c a l l y opposed y e t a t the same time wholly dependent upon the o t h e r . T h i s 182 can be seen further in a scene from the stay in Ikao. Lying beside Yukiko, Tomioka is regarding her c r i t i c a l l y , when suddenly the town of Hue in Indochina floats unbidden before his mind's eye; Along the road from the station to the centre of town, the young leaves of the camphor trees welled up in golden colours. Canna and clematis on the promenade beside the Hue river were as bright and gay as printed s i l k s . Coconut trees, betel-nut palms, and hashidoi grew everywhere. A local man in red shorts was selling macaws in cages along the river pathway. A l l this Tomioka remembered. The beloved l i f e in Dalat was burnt into his memory, merging into one single design, like the splashed patterns of dyed cloth. 25 This passage continues and becomes a short flashback, broken only when Yukiko interrupts Tomioka's recollections with her own. Together the two attempt to recall other memories of the past, hoping to revitalize their f a i l i n g relationship. For Yukiko and Tomioka, such attempts at the sharing of memories work on their distraught emotions like a drug, and the effect is short-lived, bringing nothing but depression and frustration in i t s wake, Yukiko and Tomioka thus continue to d r i f t between the two worlds of past and present; unable to break free of one, they cannot wholly enter the other. The paradise of Dalat, which exists only in memory, is thus given a powerful v i t a l i t y as the beloved object of 183 Yukiko's and Tomioka's inner struggle, while the external reality of postwar Japan appears as an unmitigated he l l from which there is no escape, except perhaps in death. Although these two re a l i t i e s continually intertwine and intersect, there is no point of actual synthesis or integration. Dalat and Japan, like Yukiko and Tomioka them-selves, must remain forever apart. This unresolved dichotomy between inner and outer, past and present creates a distinctly unsettled mood, which is thus well-established by the middle of the novel (that i s , by the end of chapter 31), and while the second half of Ukigumo (the Tokyo-Mishima-Yakushima narrative sections) contains no flashbacks, recollections of Dalat continue to appear, interspersed within the main narrative. Less frequent than in the f i r s t part of Ukigumo, memory sequences are also less complete, becoming mere memory fragments in the second half of the story. This produces an even more unsettling effect as Yukiko and Tomioka cling desperately to these small shards of the past, and in a f i n a l attempt to regain their lost happiness, begin to pursue such memories with reckless abandon. Thus, Tomioka begins to write his lengthy articles on the forests of Dalat and chooses the distant southern island of Yakushima over other more suitable areas for work, while Yukiko steals the Ohinata-kyo money 184 in order to re-establish her old relationship with Tomioka. Nevertheless, their-much sought-for dreams do not ..materialize in the expected, manner. In the f i n a l chapters of Ukigumo (chapters.57 to 67), Yukiko's and Tomioka's- fantasies of the past slowly and stealthily, like e v i l apparitions, begin to overtake present r e a l i t y , and at the end- of the story, Yukiko in the extremes of her illness imagines she is once more in Indochina, living in the forested area around Bien Hoa with Tomioka and Kano: She heard the rustle of the rain in her ears as i f i t were a sea of forests, but when she realized i t was only the sound of the rain beating on the window panes, Yukiko lost heart and f e l t as i f she had been cast into the depths of h e l l . 26 Here, the use of rain imagery, as in the beginning of the story, serves to dissolve dream and past memory, a function that not only ties the beginning and end of the story neatly together but also emphasizes the ultimate disjunctive-ness of past and present. Unlike Horoki where nostalgia for the past brought positive reinforcement for present under-takings, the preoccupation with the past in Ukigumo reaches extreme proportions and i s , in the end, overwhelmingly destructive. Narrative tempo, like point of view and structure, also aids in the development of the inner-outer contrast in 185 Ukigumo. Although further amplified tha,n in previous works, narrative tempo maintains a basic slow-fast pattern throughout. That i s , time moves more slowly in the f i r s t part of the work (chapters 1 to 31), speeds up considerably throughout the main body of the story (chapters 32 to 56), and then in a significant extension of the basic pattern in the latter part of the novel (chapters 57 to 67), slows down once again. The slower moving sections of the work are concerned primarily with the development of Yukiko's and Tomioka's relationship in association with the past. Thus, in chapters 1 to 31, the characters of both Yukiko and Tomioka are developed within the framework of the Indochina years and the seven-week period that follows Yukiko's return to Japan from that part of the world. Here, the relationship between Yukiko and Tomioka is probed in considerable depth, with the emphasis on the past and memory as major catalysts in the couple's continued a f f a i r . In the middle chapters of the work which begin with the return from Ikao and end with Yukiko's stealing of the money (chapters 32 to 56), the focus is on the numerous events that befall Yukiko and Tomioka during their attempts to start a new l i f e in a defeated country. During these chapters, time speeds up considerably, covering a period of over a year. Here, Yukiko 186 and Tomioka follow separate paths,: caught up in external circumstances that rapidly forward the action, locking the characters into their f i n a l situation. These chapters at the same time deal much less fu l l y with the inner realm of past love and past memory. In the f i n a l ten chapters of Ukigumo which recount Yukiko'arand Tomioka's last journey together, time slows down once again as their relationship is further explored in a time period covering the f i n a l two weeks of Yukiko's l i f e and the subsequent activities of Tomioka one month later. Here, too, as in the f i r s t chapters o f Ukigumo, past memory plays an important part in the depiction of Yukiko's and Tomioka's unhappy affair and i t s fi n a l dissolution. For both characters, but more particularly for Yukiko, the journey to the south and Yakushima is equated with the wartime voyage to Indochina. Hence, Yukiko's hope that her long-ago love w i l l be rekindled. So desperately does she desire this re-creation of the past, she even imagines that the kindly doctor who tends her in Kagoshima resembles the unfortunate Kano and that.the squalid village on Yakushima is like an Indochinese villag e . The f i n a l c r i s i s in which Yukiko dies with her last thought on the Indochinese past and the subsequent denouement in which Tomioka returns to Kagoshima only to spend the night with a woman who reminds 187 him of yukiko bring Ukigumo to a conclusion that i s dominated by the spectres of the past. Thus,. both the slowly moving first-section and the last chapters of Ukigumo. .deal .primarily with the struggle of Yukiko and Tomioka to come to terms with the inner world of past memory and lost love/ while the fast paced middle chapters emphasize events in the outer world of present re a l i t y . The u t i l i z a t i o n of a slowly paced f i n a l section, underlining as i t does the preoccupation with inner concerns that we have come to associate with such slower narrative tempos in Hayashi's work, ensures that the inner struggles of the principal characters emerge as the most significant aspect of the outer-inner conflict in Ukigumo. In Ukigumo, then, the author has constructed a lengthy and intricate narrative in which the contrast between inner and outer functions on several levels <— f i r s t , as a means of providing the progression of events with a compelling narrative tension based on the contrast between the inner struggle to regain the past and the pjateiEristruggle to survive in the present; second, as a means of imparting form to such events through a narrative structure based on this contrast as well as upon two points of view that, in their incompatibility, emphasize the failure of the inner struggle; and third, as a means of ordering the flow of narrative in 188 a way which also emphasizes the inner struggle and i t s destructive nature. Although the intertwining of the inner and outer struggle has been the principal narrative design employed by Hayashi throughout her career, the u t i l i z a t i o n of this design reaches i t s most sophisticated expression in works of the.fourth period, particularly in Ukigumo. Just as the "plaiting" of Parts 1 and II in Horoki helped to create a density of mood and atmosphere that strikingly portrayed the vagaries of Fumiko's chaotic world, so, too, does the complex interweaving of inner and outer, past and present in Ukigumo produce a powerful sense of the overwhelm-ing mental and emotional anguish that characterizes the ever-shifting vistas of Ukigumo. Like theme and structure, imagery in Ukigumo also emphasizes the conflict between inner and outer. The t i t l e i t s e l f , for example, refers both to the unsettled, wayward existence of Yukiko and Tomioka upon their return to Japan as well as to the rather ..insubstantial and transitory nature of their inner hopes.and dreams. Indeed, Yukiko and Tomioka are nothing more thati "drifting .clouds" themselves, continually on the move, blown hither and yon by the changing winds of fortune, their energies soon dissipated .in the treacherous cross-currents created by the pursuit of an impossible love.and beauty. Closely associated with this central image are two related motifs — (1) the ethereal 189 paradise o f Dalat which encompasses Yukiko's and Tomioka's fantasies of the past, and (2) the journey, the means whereby Yukiko and Tomioka seek to recapture their fading dream. Seldom since Horoki has wandering and travel figured so prominently in Hayashi's work. Unlike Horoki, however, where journeys were undertaken in response to a r t i s t i c whim or family obligation, the journey in Ukigumo is made primarily in order to recapture the past. Of the major journeys described in Ukigumo, the two most important undertaken by Yukiko and Tomioka are the tri p to Ikao and the f i n a l journey to Yakushima. Both travels underline not only the conflict of past with present, inner with outer, but at the same time add another dimension to this c o n f l i c t , as in both cases these journeys set Yukiko and Tomioka firmly on the road to death. Although their plans for a double suicide are not carried out at Ikao and Yukiko's death at Yakushima is due only to misadventure, the long discussion of lovers' suicide at Ikao as well as the hopelessness of Yukiko's and Tomioka's position on their f i n a l journey serve to emphasize their plight as two star-crossed lovers who have no other recourse but to disappear from this world. The journey in Ukigumo, then, functions as a kind of michiyuki stressing not only the f u t i l i t y and potential 190 tragedy of Yukiko's and Tomioka's situation but also the poetic and romantic quality of their unattainable desire. The trip to Ikao, for example, is imbued with the emotion of an Indochinese love song, which sets the tone for the entire tr i p and for the events that befall Yukiko and Tomioka in this Dalat-like resort: Your love and my love only in the beginning were true. Your eyes were truthful? my eyes, on that day, at that time, were truthful, too. But now you and I 2g see only with doubting eyes. Sung in i t s entirety f i r s t by a drunken Tomioka and later by Yukiko, certain lines of the song are eventually repeated by Yukiko as she begins to suspect Tomioka's relationship with Osei. Just as the trip to Ikao is circumscribed by the sentiments of a love song, so is the f i n a l journey to Yakushima marked by the beginnings of a belated romance. Here, due to Yukiko's i l l n e s s , Tomioka begins to act with greater kindness and consideration, while Yukiko, her v i t a l i t y greatly reduced, no longer pursues Tomioka so aggressively nor so relentlessly. Instead, searching together among the 191 mountains and islands along the route for similarities to the long-ago Indochinese t r i p , Yukiko and Tomioka struggle to recapture the beautiful past, only to be continually disappointed. For although the two have begun an attempt at reconciliation, i f not understanding, the ultimate bounds of their relationship are too firmly drawn and cannot be erased so easily. Thus, in the end, Yukiko on her deathbed cannot bring herself to trust Tomioka completely just as he cannot remain faithfully by her side. Nevertheless, Yukiko's and Tomioka*s search for the past as they travel to the south draws them more closely together than they have been since their return to Japan, and i t i s on this note, that of the i l l - f a t e d romantic journey, that Ukigumo draws to a close. The most romantic journey of a l l , however, is the original sojourn in Indochina. Here, against a backdrop of tropical vegetation and exotic luxuries, Yukiko and Tomioka explore together a new world and a new love. Every day brings some unexpected pleasure, such as the v i s i t to Heiho where Yukiko and Tomioka discover an ancient Japanese cemetery. Here are interred the remains of Japanese traders and merchants of three hundred and f i f t y years ago, who, unable to return home due to the isolation policy of the Tokugawa government, lived out their lives in Indochina. Pausing to gaze at the 192 Japanese names inscribed on the tombs: Yukiko f e l t how courageous the s p i r i t of these ancient Japanese had been, wandering about everywhere like floating coconuts. On the stone of one grave mound "Tomb of f • Hanako" was inscribed, and Yukiko's heart was touched in sympathy. 29 Like the unknown Hanako, Yukiko, too, is a wanderer beyond the pale of Japanese society, and also like Hanako, Yukiko w i l l end her ceaseless journeying in a lonely grave far from home. Yet i t i s the dauntless s p i r i t of these long-ago people that Yukiko so admires, and like them, she too finds romance and adventure on her magical journey through Indochina. Thus, although poetic concerns were of small importance during Hayashi's third period, works of the!,fourth period like Ukigumo, exhibit a distinct resurgence of Hayashi*s poetic v i t a l i t y . In Ukigumo this can be seen not only in the emphasis on the inner struggle for love and for beauty, but also in the poetic and romantic treatment of the journey motif as well as in the l y r i c a l descriptions of Indochina. At the same time, however, the effectiveness of these elements is heightened s t i l l further by one of Ukigumo's most important s t y l i s t i c features — the intensely emotive quality of the prose i t s e l f , a feature which aids not only in accentuating the v i t a l i t y and immediacy but also the essential 193 humanity of the protagonists' struggle. Hayashi's a b i l i t y to build l y r i c a l intensity through the s k i l l f u l manipulation of emotional and sensual impressions can be seen throughout Ukigumo and i s one of the hallmarks of her mature style. In order to see how the author achieves her effect, several lines of text w i l l now be examined, in particular the f i r s t eight sentences with which the novel begins: If possible, she wanted to take the night tr a i n , and so, when she l e f t the reception centre after three days, she deliberately spent one day loafing around the town of Tsuruga. Parting from some sixty other women at the centre, she found a place to stay at a kitchen-ware shop near the customs shed. And there, alone, Yukiko was able to l i e down on the tatami of her native land for the f i r s t time in a long time. Out of kindness, the people of the inn heated up the bath for her. Being a small household, i t looked like they had not changed the water, and i t was d i r t y . But to Yukiko, who had just ended a long sea voyage, the feel of the slightly unclean hot water that had soaked others' skins was delightful. From the bath she could hear the cold rain beating against the dark, grimy window. In Yukiko's lonely heart came a feeling of utter peacefulness. The wind was blowing, too. Opening the sooty window, she looked up at the leaden rainy sky. Gazing at the poor sky of her native land which she had not seen in such a long time, Yukiko caught her breath, entranced by the scene outside the window. With her arms holding onto the edge of the oval-shaped bath tub, the sword-cut scar swollen like an earthworm suddenly became visible on her l e f t arm. Yukiko shuddered at the sight. But then as she poured warm water over the scar, Yukiko 194 contemplated the many sweet memories of the past. Yet, from today onwards, she prepared to resign herself to a l i f e that was lik e l y to become unbearably s t i f l i n g . Narubeku, yofuke_ni tsuku kisha o erabitai to, mikkakan no shuyojo o deru to, wazato, Tsuruga no machi de, ichinichi burabura shite__ita. Rokujunin amari no onnatachi to wa shuyujo de wakarete, zeikan no soko ni chikai, aramonoya-ken oyasumidokoro to i t t a , ie o mitsukete, soko de h i t o r i ni natte, Yukiko wa, hisashiburi ni kokoku no tatami ni nekorobu koto ga dekita. Yado no hitobito wa_shinsetsu de, furo o waka-shite kureta. Koninzu de, furo no mizu o kaeru koto mo shinai to miete, nigotta yu datta ga, nagai funatabi o tsuzukete kita Yukiko ni wa, hitohada no shimita, hakunigoshita yu kagen mo, kimochi ga yoku, furo no naka no, usugurai susuketa mado ni ataru, shabushabu shita mizore majiri no ame_mo, Yukiko no hi t o r i na kokoro no naka n i , muryo na kimochi o sasotta. Kaze mo fu i t a . Yogoreta garasu mado o akete, enshoku no amazora o miagete i r u to, hishashiburi ni miru, kokoku no mazushii sora na no da to, Yukiko wa i k i o koroshite, sono, mado no keshiki_ni mitorete i r u . Koban-kei no furo no fuchi ni ryote o kakeru to, hidari no^ude n i , mimizu no yo ni mori-agatta, kanari o k i i tosho ga, Yukiko o zotto saseru. Sono kuse, sono tosho ni yu o kakenagara, Yukiko wa natsukashii omgide no kazukazu o meiso shite, kyo kara wa, do ni mo naranai, i k i no tsumaru yo na seikatsu ga tsuzuku no da to, kannen shinai de shinakatta. While the f i r s t sentence in the Japanese text gives no indication of who i s speaking (a not unusual feature of the Japanese language), several other significant impressions are aptly conveyed. Perhaps most striking i s the air of determination that marks the f i r s t line of text. This is indi'clted by the use of the verb erabu (to choose) and the 195 desiderative ending - t a i preceded by a direct object. Determination i s further strengthened by the wazato and the decision to make a day-long wait in Tsuruga. At the same time, the feel of being on a journey is imparted through!the mention of a night train and the use of burabura to describe the stay in Tsuruga. Idleness and restlessness overlaid by a strong sense of determination are the principal factors thus set firmly in the reader's mind. By the second sentence we learn-that this transient yet decisive persona belongs to the figure of Yukiko, who i s now distinguished not only from .thexprevious anonymity of the text but also from a group of fellow women travellers. Yukiko, we discover, intends to set out on her own, staying i n onlysthe poorest of accommodations. Even so, she immediately experiences a pleasant nostalgia as well as a restful support for her weariness and solitude as she l i e s on the homely tatami. The sense of support and pleasure i s underlined further in the next sentence where the people of the house heat Yukiko a bath. In the fourth sentence, however, the narrative i s temporarily suspended as Yukiko's consciousness moves quickly through a series of subtly changing physical and emotional sensations that induce i n her a deep feeling of loneliness and also of r e l i e f . From merely looking at 196 the dirty bath water to being pleasurably immersed in i t to hearing the cold rain slapping at the grimy window and being overcome by lonely yet peaceful feelings is a progression of sensation that indicates Yukiko's response to outer reality is either sensual or emotional without being subjected to any particular psychological or intellectual analysis or interpretation. This sentence loses -its impact in English, having to be broken into several sentences, and thus the steady piling up of sensation to the point of inducing a sense of peaceful r e l i e f in the protagonist i s a powerfully evocative feature observable only in the original. In the next two sentences, Yukiko's sensation of r e l i e f i s suddenly dispelled by new and increasingly complex physical and emotional reactions to her surroundings. Opening the dirty window, she looks outside, and gazing at the r a i n - f i l l e d sky once again, she experiences a keen feeling of nostalgia. As we might expect, she reacts bodily (iki o koroshita) and emotionally (keshiki ni mitorete i r u ) . Here, Yukiko's nostalgia encompasses a wider range of feeling than at the beginning of the passage, as, due primarily to the usage of the phrase i k i o korosu and the verb mltoreru, the phrase kokoku no mazushii sora acquires shadings not only of loneliness, longing, pity, and desperation but also of the surprise and wonder that can be associated with the 197 unexpected sights and occurrences of travel. At the same time Yukiko's fascination with the "poor" view, similar to her ready acceptance of the dirty bath water, stresses most poignantly the very basic, plebeian sensuality of her emotional reactions. Much of Yukiko's appeal thus li e s in the intensity of her nostalgia which determines to take pleasure even in the poorest and shoddiest of circumstances. The narrative line of the story resumes in the next sentence, where Yukiko catches sight of the scar on her l e f t arm. Yukiko's reaction on seeing this disfigurement is again entirely physical and emotional without any further reflection (zotto saseru). As Yukiko washes the scar, pleasant memories of the past flood her consciousness, and the author takes the f i r s t step in setting up the major thematic and structural elements of her story: the contrast between inner-outer, past-present. Thus, memories called up by the scar in the f i r s t part of the sentence (ending with meiso shite) are juxtaposed with the last half of the sentence in which Yukiko views her present l i f e as soon to be inescapably s t i f l i n g and f u l l of hardship. Again, Yukiko's perceptions are founded solely on emotional reaction (to past memories) based on physical sensation (washing the scar). By t e l l i n g us constantly and consistently what her characters feel and seldom what they think about their 198 feelings, Hayashi stays close to the pulse of l i f e , creating a dense yet ever-shifting texture of feeling and sensation that, like the drifting cloud of the t i t l e , expresses the flu i d i t y and mutability of human experience. At the same time, the author also hints in her opening sentences that in Ukigumo there i s some contamination within the flow and movement of l i f e ' s waters. Thus, the water imagery which marks these opening lines emphasizes not only mutability but also pollution. The bath, for example, does not impart a sense of cleanliness or purification; quite the contrary, the water i s dirty; seldom changed, i t is stagnant and unappealing. That Yukiko takes pleasure in this polluted bath does not bode well for the future. Washing the scar in this water, too, i s vaguely unpleasant, and thus Yukiko's memories of the past are at once associated with corruption and defilement. The f i r s t eight sentences of Ukigumo, then, reveal much about Hayashi's mature style and literary technique. The reliance on the depiction of emotional states to delineate character and enhance narrative i s an aspect of Hayashi's prose that i s developed most f u l l y in Ukigumo. Closely related to the torrent of quickly changing emotional states that characterizes a good deal of the early Horoki, and traceable through the creation of l y r i c a l mood pieces such 199 as "Seihin no sho" that exalt the inner poetic struggle as well as incorporating the more mundane or "naturalistic" portrayal of sentiment seen in the domestic novella of Hayashi's third period, the emotive prose of Ukigumo stands out as an extremely accomplished and we11-integrated amalgamation of earlier techniques. Here, the romanticism and profuseness of Horoki becomes carefully constructed emotional experience that helps build and sustain an entire novel's mood and atmosphere. At the same time, the ardent lyricism of the early autobiographical f i c t i o n tempered by the less personal, more outwardly oriented authorial attitude that characterizes the third-period works produces a unique study of human relationships that, through the contrast of inner and outer, past and present, demonstrates not only a solid mastery of both s t y l i s t i c and narrative devices but also a s k i l l f u l integration of these devices within the parameters of the author's own poetic disposition. Although, as we shall see in the next chapter, s t y l i s t i c development would continue to be of some importance throughout the last years of Hayashi's. career, achievement such as that in Ukigumo would not occur again. Outstanding as a work of postwar literature, Ukigumo also represents the peak of Hayashi's achievement in prose f i c t i o n . Portraying the hopelessness and f u t i l i t y of defeat as well as the emptiness 200 of the inner struggle for love and beauty, Ukigumo is nonetheless marked by the fullness of Hayashi's mature style and thus remains a powerful and expressive tour de  force of the vicissitudes of human experience. Viewed in terms that emphasize the mundane aspects of existence, the human struggle in Ukigumo also emphasizes the poetic and romantic qualities which may be found therein. Here, however, Hayashi's poetic attitude i s devoid of i t s Horoki-style optimism and recalls instead the n i h i l i s t i c outlook of her early poetry, such as "Kurushii uta" and"Joko no utaeru" which, although celebrating the tenacity of the human struggle, also underlined i t s despair and f u t i l i t y . In much the same way, Ukigumo revolves upon complex and composite poetic motifs, which, like the "drifting cloud" of the t i t l e , emphasize not only the ubiquitous f o l l y and suffering but also the ultimate transience and i n s t a b i l i t y of human l i f e and love. Hence, the aimless wandering, the struggle with the cloying web of past memory, and the relentless search for an unattainable love and beauty, a l l of which imbue Yukiko's and Tomioka's plight with a desperate hopelessness and at the same time provide a poetic foundation for a work which appeals not only to modern tastes but also satisfies the more traditional native sensibility that wholeheartedly celebrates the beauty and pathos inherent in even the most ignominious failure and defeat. CHAPTER 5 201 LAST YEARS; THE STRUGGLE FOR SELF-FULFILLMENT (1950-1951) Hayashi's prolific and unconventional literary career was brought to a drastic end by her sudden death on 28 June 1951 at the age of forty-eight. Very much like the short-lived flower of her well-known poem, "Hana no inochi wa," Hayashi had lived a l i f e that had been a l l too brief. A mere ten months was to elapse between the completion of Ukigumo in August 1950 and her death in June of the following year. During this time, Hayashi managed to complete five major full-length novels: Fuyu no ringo (Winter Apple, 1950), Ehon Sarutobi Sasuke %i<$i& $1 (The Picture Book of Sarutobi Sasuke, 1950), Aware hitozuma $rlK«K^-$: (A Poor Married Woman, 1950), Sazanami /'J$_ Women, 1951). She also continued writing numerous articles for magazines and newspapers and was working on at least one other major work, Me shi dt) U (Meals) when death overtook her. Although the notion that "journalism killed Hayashi Fumiko"1 gained a degree of currency in Japanese literary circles after her death, i t was Hayashi's own zeal and (Ripples, 1951), and Onna kazoku (A Family of 202 ambition that drove her to overwork/swlth-'fatal results. Indeed, i f blame for her death may be placed squarely in any quarter, i t must l i e solely with Hayashi herself. Aware of a heart problem for several years and warned by doctors that the condition was serious, Hayashi took l i t t l e heed. She continued to live and write at a hectic pace, and even though friends and colleagues noticed her rapidly 2 f a i l i n g health, she herself made no effort to modify her l i f e - s t y l e to accommodate this debility. Instead, she devoted herself even more wholeheartedly to her work, her voluminous outpourings becoming both the means and the ends of her desire for self-fulfillment and success. In spite of her strength and courage, Hayashi, like Yukiko in Ukigumo, was no match for the forces arrayed against her, and in the end, overwhelmed by illness as much as by the demands of her own determined character, she succumbed to a combination of stroke and heart fa i l u r e . Hayashi*s funeral services, presided over by her long-time friend and mentor, Kawabata Yasunari, were well attended, not only by members of the literary world but also by members of the public who crowded the streets and f i l l e d the lanes 3 outside her house. These "humbly-dressed" folk who had come to pay their last respects were none other than the lowly, ordinary people about whom Hayashi had so movingly 203 written in her novels and, stories and who were also the most numerous of her admirers. The presence of both l i t e r a t i and common people at her funeral eloquently attests to the broad appeal of Hayashi's literature as well as to the striking success of this author in merging both "popular" and "serious," prosaic and poetic elements within her works. While Ukigumo and other writings of the fourth period displayed a fresh treatment of the conflict between the.inner and outer struggle as well as a tendency towards a more poetically oriented prose style, the f i f t h period shows a movement away from such concerns and a resurgence of interest in the domestic sphere that recalls Hayashi's works of the third period. Although such developmentf.. can be seen to a certain extent in many of Hayashi's completed f i f t h -period pieces, i t i s most fu l l y realized in Meshi, the novel on which Hayashi was working at the time of her death. Though incomplete, this work reveals much about Hayashi's fi n a l literary evolution, disclosing a new concern with the inner struggle that focuses upon the problems of those who inhabit a modern world brought into existence by the forces unleashed at the end of World War I I . While Ukigumo reflected the uncertainties and resulting hardships faced by people caught up in the transition between wartime and immediate postwar l i f e , Meshi deals with the anxieties of 204 a new age. Foremost among the inner concerns and struggles that move' the protagonists of Meshi is the search for self-fulfillment amid the tedium of modern l i f e . Here, Hayashi departs from her previous emphasis upon the struggle for love and for beauty that dominated the works of the fourth period and concentrates instead on the kind of personal striving that is more closely connected to Inazuma and works of the third period. The search for self-fulfillment, i t s origins easily traceable to the struggles for independence and maturity found in Inazuma, is nonetheless a new struggle, one '-that reflects the attempt to come to terms with the commonplaceness of domestic l i f e rather than to transcend or rise above i t as was the case in Inazuma. The quest for self-fulfillment portrays more accurately than the traditionally oriented struggles for love or beauty the d i f f i c u l t i e s inherent in modern l i f e , as both men and women strive to discover meaning and significance in a new world where tradition i s found wanting and where the past provides small consolation. Thus, for protagonists of fifth-period works, love seldom brings gratification, while marriage ends not so much in failure as in boredom and indifference. Chaiiro no me ^2^*9 E}$»(Brown Eyes), a novel which Hayashi serialized in Fujin asahi from January to September 1949, i s an early example of the direction most fifth-period works would take. The couple in 205 this story, married for fourteen years and without children, no longer derive any satisfaction from each other's company. So enervating has their l i f e become, they are unable to take any action whatsoever to alleviate their situation. Only belatedly and after much deliberation does the husband fi n a l l y decide on divorce, relinquishing at last the familiar but debilitating relationship with his wife. Although the couple in Chaiiro no me eventually take steps towards the solution of their problem, the family of women depicted in Onna kazoku seem lost in the endless entanglements of domestic l i f e . Their search for happiness is abrogated not only by the engrained patterns of a repressive social order but also by their own inability to overcome the weariBome predictability of their existence. Here, the struggle for self-fulfillment seems paralyzed by the benumbing effect of the outer world. Similar to Inazuma, this family of women consists of three sisters and their mother; there i s also a granddaughter. The father, a brother, and the eldest sister's husband are no longer l i v i n g . Financially better off than the sisters of Inazuma, the protagonists of Onna kazoku;. are nonetheless circumscribed by a l i f e so lacking in opportunity and stimulation that i t is almost not worth l i v i n g . Movies, particularly foreign films, provide the only escape from the ennui of their l i v e s , 206 while love affairs evoke l i t t l e passion, and marriage seems at best a questionable goal. Ruiko, the middle si s t e r , sums up her own and her sisters' feelings of entrapment at the end of the story when she remarks; "What kind of happiness is there for a woman outside of marriage?... "Human happiness does not follow a prescribed route like a boat t r i p or a train ride. Instead, people seem to construct intricate designs in a sky that contains an unknowable fate, don't you think so?" And indeed, i t seems likely that Ruiko and her sisters w i l l continue to build their castles in the a i r , at the same time protesting against their l o t , not with the vehemence and fierce determination of Kiyoko in Inazuma, but with a sad kind of wistfulness that questions both fate and circumstance but finds no answers. Exhibiting l i t t l e of the strength of w i l l that propelled earlier characters ever onward in their ceaseless battles with l i f e and love, most of Hayashi's f i f t h s - p e r i o d protagonists pursue their goals with much less abandon and tend to arrive at even fewer destinations. Unlike earlier figures and different even from Yukiko in Ukigumo, their narrow, constricted world i s one which, like Sartre's well-known play, seems indeed to have "no exit." And yet, within this tightly closed realm from which there i s no 207 escape, a new and distinct form of inner struggle arises. Although closely related to the earlier inner struggles for personal happiness, this struggle exhibits much closer ties with the real i t i e s of mundane domestic l i f e . Here, as Hayashi attempts to resolve the dichotomy between the inner and outer struggle, producing works .in which such conflicts are less contentious and potentially more reconcil-able, she creates characters which, for the f i r s t time, embark upon the quest for understanding, both of themselves and of their relationships with others. While such works as Chaiiro no me and Onna kazoku exhibit, in a rudimentary form, Hayashi's early attempts at an inner-outer resolution, i t i s not un t i l the appearance of Meshi that we are able to see clearly the synthesis of Hayashi's thematic interests and concerns in a novel that, had i t been completed, might have marked the beginning of a new direction in Hayashi's work. In order to ascertain the significance of Meshi as Hayashi's f i n a l work and also as one of the most interesting of the f i f t h period, this novel w i l l now be examined, as were preceding selected works, in terms of theme, structure, characterization, imagery, and style. When Hayashi presented the f i r s t installment of Meshi to the Asahi newspaper for publication in April 1951, the 208 publishers were most unhappy about the choice of t i t l e and 5 at f i r s t refused to accept i t , saying i t was too common. Hayashi, however, stood firm, and the t i t l e was allowed to remain. The word meshi means, f i r s t of a l l , "boiled or cooked rice" and also, by extension, "a meal." It also contains the meaning of ''livelihood" ! or "living" in the sense that this most basic of foodstuffs i s in Japan, like bread in Western countries, the staff of l i f e . Although Hayashi chose to render meshi in Japanese syllabic script for her t i t l e , the word may also be written with the Chinese character . Written thus, the connection between meshi and i t s slightly more refined counterpart gohan 4§f is evoked, and thus the word loses much of i t s homespun, plebeian connotations. By keeping the t i t l e in the syllabic alphabet, a choice unusual for Hayashi, who generally preferred more elegant or poetic names,^ the author emphasizes more firmly than usual the lowly and indecorous qualities of everyday l i f e . Indeed, so unprepossessing i s this t i t l e that the images conjured up in the reader's mind are at once those of an exceedingly mundane, hum-drum existence. And in fact, throughout her works, Hayashi has depicted few characters who find their lives as cramped and stultifying as do Okamoto Michiyo and her husband, Hatsunosuke, the main protagonists of Meshi. 209 The story opens in the springtime in Osaka as Hatsunosuke accompanies his young niece/ Satoko, on a sight-seeing tour of the c i t y . Satoko, the adopted daughter of Hatsunosuke's elder brother in Tokyo, has come to Osaka ostensibly to look for work but also in hopes of avoiding the marriage which is being arranged for her in Tokyo. Hatsunosuke and his wife, Michiyo, have planned a welcome break in their routine to show Satoko the sights. But a l l does not go well. Hatsunosuke and Michiyo, who made a love-marriage five years before, are now insufferably bored with each other, with their relationship, and with the tedium of their lives; yet both are uncertain how to deal with the problem. Michiyo, for her part, tends to blame Hatsunosuke and is quick to take offense at the smallest sli g h t , whether real or imagined. After just such an incident, Michiyo decides not to join Hatsunosuke and Satoko on the Osaka tour and remains spitefully at home, pursuing her housewifely chores and entertaining plans for adopting a six-year-old boy. Hatsuno-suke, who is against the adoption, neverthelessr?realizes that Michiyo needs someone or something to relieve the boredom of her l i f e . A ''salary-man" employed by a large pharmaceutical company, Hatsunosuke i s also a considerate and thoughtful person, who i s concerned about the fact that he can no longer communicate with his wife. 210 Satoko, a bold, l i v e l y , and affectionate g i r l , finds Osaka exciting, and after her sight-seeing t r i p , she loses no time in making a number of acquaintances, including a bar hostess who, much to the discomfiture of the Okamotos, lives on their street. Satoko also befriends the irresponsible son of another neighbour, the widow Taniguchi. Although <Ha£sunosQke.y,: too, i s charmed by Satoko, there i s nothing untoward in their relationship; yet Michiyo becomes jealous. Returning home after a reunion dinner with old classmates, Michiyo i s annoyed to find that Hatsunosuke and Satoko have been upstairs together, and that Hatsunosuke has used Michiyo's towel to staunch a sudden nosebleed that strikes Satoko. During this incident, Hatsunosuke's shoes have been stolen from the fsront door. Michiyo scolds Hatsunosuke harshly. The next day when Michiyo goes to meet the child proposed for adoption, she is s t i l l uneasy about her differences with Hatsunosuke. The child's thinness and sad eyes only upset her further, and she decides against continuing with the proceedings. Instead she begins to make plans to return to her mother's house in Tokyo, where she can look for work. When Hatsunosuke comes home drunk that night, Michiyo realizes what different lives she and her husband now l i v e , and this further strengthens her resolve to leave. On the following day on a v i s i t to her aunt and uncle's 211 house, Michiyo encounters their son, Kazuo, to whom she had once almost become engaged. Kazuo, s t i l l single, seems not to have lost interest in Michiyo and reveals his intention of returning to Tokyo on the same traincthat Michiyo plans to take. Back home, Michiyo finds the Taniguchi boy, Yoshitaro, and Satoko together, and Michiyo, worried at this sudden turn of events, quickly decides that Satoko must return at once to Tokyo. Hatsunosuke agrees with his wife; yet he i s shocked that Michiyo has not consulted him about her proposed journey. Michiyo refuses to talk about their problems, and after an uneasy night, she and Satoko leave for Tokyo in the company of Kazuo. One week passes, and the families begin to wonder i f there is something wrong between Michiyo and Hatsunosuke. Hatsunosuke assures Michiyo's uncle that nothing i s amiss. Visited by the bar g i r l who brings tasty dishes and by Michiyo*s unmarried classmate who i s a l i t t l e too friendly, Hatsunosuke nevertheless remains relatively unaffected by the numerous attentions he receives from other women, and he continues to worry about his wife. Taniguchi also calls on Hatsunosuke, accompanied by the l i t t l e boy who has not yet been adopted. She has come to report that her son, Yoshitaro-; has run away to Tokyo in pursuit of Satoko. Hatsunosuke, , finding the small child unexpectedly engaging, 212 begins to reconsider his position on the question of adoption. In Tokyo, Michiyo enjoys a brief f l i r t a t i o n with Kazuo, but her thoughts are with Hatsunosuke who writes, asking her to come home. Meanwhile, Satoko, who has been scolded by her father for her errant behaviour, continues to see both Yoahitaro and Kazuo with whom she has also become friendly. Here, unfortunately, on the esrerVof Michiyo's uncle's arrival in Tokyo, the story breaks o f f . Even though Meshi remains unfinished, the existing narrative has been sufficiently advanced to allow a f a i r l y detailed examination of various aspects relevant to this study of Hayashi's work. Chief among these i s the author's ut i l i z a t i o n of the contrast between inner and outer, which as in previous works, provides the basic tension of the story. In Meshi, however, unlike Ukigumo and other earlier works, the outward struggle for survival does not hinge simply on the need for money but rather on the need for more money. In Meshi, no one i s poor, and some, like Michiyo's aunt and uncle in Osaka and Satoko's family in Tokyo, are f a i r l y well to do. Nevertheless, the three main protagonists, Hatsunosuke, Michiyo, and Satoko, are unhappy with their financial l o t , and thus the search for financial success i s a primary concern of a l l . Hatsunosuke, for example, is dissatisfied with his salary, thinking i t insufficient for 213 raising a child, while Satoko refuses jobs that pay only ¥4000; she can make that easily in Tokyo. "Money, money, money..." Satoko intones to herself, echoing the sentiments of the irrepressible Fumiko of Horoki.7 Michiyo, too, like Hatsunosuke, finds her financial situation totally inadequate. Fed up with a household budget that never balances, she wants more money to satisfy an occasional whim and also to gain the freedom she feels is denied her as a housewife. To Michiyo, holding down her own job in Tokyo begins to look very attractive. In spite of the emphasis on the pursuit of money and the other trappings of worldly success, outer circumstances in Meshi do not improve; neither do they grow worse. Instead, they stay the same. No one manages to improve his or her financial state or position in society, and conversely, no one sustains any losses. Although matters might have altered had the story been completed, this seems unlikely for two reasons: (1) byrmaintaining the sameness of outer . circumstances, the tediousness and uneventfulness of everyday l i f e is aptly conveyed, and (2)aagainst the background of mundane daily existence, the inner struggles of the protagonists are brought more strikingly to the fore. Thus, in contrast to the monotony of everyday l i f e , i t is the inner struggle that is of most significance in Meshi. Yet, at the 214 same time such struggles do not run counter to outer circumstances, as i s the case in Ukigumo, but instead are closely bound to external concerns. Hence, Michiyo's growing internal awareness that she i s not deriving any pleasure or satisfaction out of l i f e i s directly related to her exterior role of housewife. The dawning realization that her l i f e and marriage have fallen far short of expectations i s revealed in a nicely-drawn, homely passage where Michiyo, piling up the clothes she has freshly ironed, also seems to be piling up a growing number of dissatisfactions and disappointments. Since the complete passage i s too lengthy to quote in i t s entirety, a few f i n a l segments w i l l be presented: As she ironed each piece, the laundry piled up, white as snow. Even after she was finished, the iron s t i l l had enough heat l e f t for a few items. Not wanting to waste the heat, Michiyo undid the zipper on the gray wool skirt she was wear-ing and s l i d i t off smoothly...She turned the wrinkled skirt inside out and, placing i t on a floor cushion, ironed i t with a l l her strength. Bits of ravelling and f l u f f had collected in the hem. Suddenly her two white protruding kneecaps caught her eye... She wanted a child to hold there, to clasp as i t sat upon her bare lap. She wanted a child to play with on her lap in the bath, pouring warm water over it...Again she began to rub the iron vigorously over the s k i r t . . . If only Hatsunosuke were a l i t t l e more resource-f u l , they could change their lives somehow... The thought of leaving Hatsunosuke had not once occurred to her, but these days her feelings had grown harsher. Wondering why this was so, 215 Michiyo put the iron with i t s shaky handle back into the wooden box. Under the warm spring sky, she began to feel like secretly g running away and searching otit her own world. As the story continues, Michiyo's grievances begin to take the form of questions concerning the reason for her existence; "Could she go on living i f Hatsunosuke were no q in longer there?? and "What does a wife live for"? Tired of cooking and cleaning, Michiyo feels as i f she is nothing more than a maid, and her boredom and dissatisfaction soon mount to the point where she leaves her husband and returns to Tokyo. Although Michiyo desires Hatsunosuke's love, she also needs the opportunity to explore the half-formed, burgeoning desires within her s e l f . While one c r i t i c sees Michiyo's awkward attempt to explore her own inner needs as an example of "egocentric female psychology,"11 such an interpretation ignores the depth and reality of Michiyo's inner struggle. Even though her dissatisfaction with l i f e may be attributed to the frustration of egoistic desires on one leve l , i t may also be viewed as an expression of defiance against the inequalities forced upon her by the dictates of society and tradition. Michiyo, a modern, educated woman of good background, has found married l i f e wanting, and like the modern woman she i s , she wants to know why. Nevertheless, 216 similar to other protagonists in fifth-period works, Michiyo's conviction falters when put to the test. Once she receives Hatsunosuke's letter asking her to return home, Michiyo is overcome by his avowal of love. Ready " to throw her new-found freedom to the winds, she i s on the verge of returning to Osaka as Meshi draws to a close. Although Michiyo is prepared to probe at the roots of her problem, she i s not prepared to undertake any sustained action that would result in a radical change of the status quo. Caught between the desire for love and security on one hand and the urge to self-fulfillment on the other, i t seems likel y that Michiyo w i l l return to the l i f e she l e f t behind, happy in the knowledge of Hatsunosuke*s love, yet*we may also wonder to what extent reconciled to the traditional wifely role. Compared to Michiyo, Hatsunosuke has a somewhat less confining l i f e - s t y l e . The variety of outlets open to him through his job and position in society ensures a broader scope for self-expression. Yet at the same time, he finds himself increasingly unable to communicate with his wife. Here, in a reversal of the situation in Ukigumo,-, the male protagonist seeks communion with his spouse, while she is intent on following her own daemon. Hatsunosuke's struggle to understand his wife, however, does not meet with failure 217 as do such attempts by Yukiko and Tomioka in Ukigumo. Instead, Hatsunosuke's thoughts frequently run parallel to those of Michiyo. Even during Michiyo's jealous outburst after the nosebleed incident, Hatsunosuke finds himself agreeing inwardly with her criticisms. Yet Hatsunosuke delays too long in speaking out. It is only Michiyo's decision to go to Tokyo that moves him fi n a l l y to broach a discussion of their problems. By then, i t i s too late, and Michiyo departs. Left on his own, Hatsunosuke finds l i f e gloomy and depressing; i t i s also distinctly uncomfortable, as laundry and other household chores pile up. It is not long after his talk with Michiyo's uncle that Hatsunosuke writes so passionately to Michiyo, urging her to come home. Throughout the story there i s never any doubt that Hatsunosuke loves his wife. Even though attracted by Satoko's overture of affection, Hatsunosuke maintainschis equanimity and does not step outside his role towards her as the indulgent uncle. Hatsunosuke's struggle therefore is not so much to attain or maintain love as to understand his partner's motivations. For Hatsunosuke, self-fulfillment l i e s in the attainment of rapport with others. Unskilled at expressing himself on matters of such intimate concern, Hatsunosuke keeps most of his thoughts to himself, thus inadvertently contributing further to his wife's unhappiness 218 and to his own uneasiness. Even as he reads the newspaper on the way to work, Hatsunosuke cannot s t i l l his anxieties as he thinks over a remark made by Michiyo the day before: Like him, Michiyo could not deny the agony that rose up these days like a rainbow in her heart. Before how, neither of them had spoken or talked about doing something to make the foundations of their household secure, but they both were thinking about i t . They had shared their lives for five years, but even the aimless eking out of their daily l i v i n g had become discouraging. When Michiyo schemed to have a chil d , perhaps she was envisioaing^he'rl?£utuj5er.security. -It :wasv-an old-fashioned way of thinking, and Michiyo would not admit to wanting a grown child in her old age...The phrase "hope for peace" ? caught his eye. Hatsunosuke suddenly f e l t like changing the characters for "peace" into the characters for "anxiety." 12 Hatsunosuke is preoccupied not only with his and Michiyo*s problems, he also gives attention to Satoko's troubles and attempts to fathom her psychology. Michiyo, too, in spite of her jealousy, is attracted to Satoko and also tries to help her. In Tokyo she helps conceal Satoko's meetings with Yoshitaro and later gives Yoshitaro money to go back to Osaka. Compared to Ukigumo and to Inazuma, then, Meshi is a veritable feast of mutual concern and sympathy. Although not proficient at such exercises in interpersonal communication, the two main protagonists of Meshi do at least try to understand themselves and others, 219 a fact which imparts a new quality of depth and maturity to the inner struggle. In contrast to Michiyo and Hatsunosuke, the figure of Satoko i s much less reflective. Self-centred, immensely v i t a l , Satoko embodies many©f the traits of the typical rebellious Hayashi heroine. Her inner struggle for maturity and independence i s reminiscent of the young Masako's in "Fukin to sakana no machi." Indulged by her parents, especially her father, Satoko is a charming but spoiled young lady, who i s much too spirited to settle into any of l i f e ' s more humdrum niches. Her friendship with Yoshitaro and the bar hostess, her bold night-time wandering about the entertainment d i s t r i c t of Osaka as well as her brash pursuit of Kazuo help to highlight her impulsive and affectionate nature. At the same time, her character exhibits l i t t l e tendency towards self-analysis or insight, and in spite of her attractive ways, Satoko remains a delightful yet immature young woman as yet unmarked by the hardships of l i f e . Nevertheless, Satoko's struggle, intertwined as i t is with that of Michiyo and Hatsunosuke *• s attempt to come to terms with themselves and their marriage, contributes to the intricate mosaic of inner hopes and desires which characterize Meshi and in which the inner struggles of a l l three characters are contrasted and juxtaposed to build a complex 220 yet well-ordered and effective narrative. In order to see how the author achieves this result, the structure of Meshi as well as related s t y l i s t i c elements w i l l now be examined. Divided into nine t i t l e d chapters, Meshi covers approximately a two-month period in the lives of the three protagonists. The f i r s t five chapters follow a slowly developing linear time frame typical of beginnings in Hayashi's works — only four days pass as the situations and personalities of the main characters are introduced and developed in a s k i l l f u l blend of dialogue and description. In chapter 6, however, time moves suddenly forward as the scene shifts from the month of April to May and (by the end of the chapter) from Osaka to Tokyo. The f i n a l chapters 7 to 9 chronicle events one week later, and as matters have begun to move more quickly, we may conclude, based on our previous examination of similar patterns in Hayashi's other works, that the novel has now entered the much faster-paced section,, which usually brings Hayashi's works to an end. The overall narrative structure also supports this assumption. Unless another major occurrence i s introduced at this point (chapter 9), the story of Michiyo and Hatsunosuke seems close to conclusion, with only Satoko's story remaining to be resolved. Although Meshi focuses primarily on the Michiyo-221 Hatsunosuke relationship, the Satoko story provides an important narrative element. Functioning as a kind of catalytic figure, Satoko galvanizes both Michiyo and Hatsunosuke to action and f i n a l l y , forces them into confrontation. Without Satoko and her story, Meshi would lose much of i t s narrative drdve and v i t a l i t y . There are three principal events in which Satoko excites Michiyo's and Hatsunosuke*s dissatisfaction with their l i f e and with each other. These occur in chapter 1, where Satoko and Hatsunosuke go off sight seeing and leave Michiyo behind; in chapter 3, where Hatsunosuke's attentions to Satoko's nosebleed stimulate Michiyo's jealousy and anger, and in chapter 5, where Satoko reveals to Hatsunosuke her affection for him. In each case, Satoko's actions create further waves in already troubled waters. In chapters 1 and 3, for example, she succeeds in arousing Michiyo's already strained feelings towards Hatsunosuke to a fever pitch, while in chapters 1, 3, and 5, Satoko, through her outgoing, affectionate attentions to Hatsunosuke, only makeshim realize his great loneliness as well as the tremendous lack of rapport with his wife. Satoko's motivations are not malicious; instead, her actions are the result of an unthinking pursuit of her own desires, a fact brought out by the author's s k i l l f u l manipulation of point of view. Although chapters 1, 3, and 222 5 are marked by the appearance of the point of view of a l l three characters,with most attention given to Michiyo and Hatsunosuke, Satoko's behaviour in a l l three chapters is both preceded and followed by a brief presentation of her point of view. Here we are made to see Satoko not as a spiteful instigator but instead as a relatively naive onlooker, oblivious to a l l but her own interests and concerns. The best example of this i s in chapter 3, which opens with Satoko smoking one of Hatsunosuke's cigarettes in the upstairs bedroom. Both Michiyo and Hatsunosuke have gone out, and Satoko i s l e f t to look after the house. Quickly bored with the history book taken from Hatsunosuke's desk, she folds up two of Hatsunosuke's floor cushions and lies down on them. Feeling lonely and abandoned, her thoughts wander. She has explored the whole house and found nothing of interest. Curious as to the nature of marriage in general, Satoko is disappointed to discover that this uninteresting household represents Michiyo's and Hatsunosuke's l i f e together. To Satoko, such a l i f e seems "as lonely as a waiting room in 13 a train station." Her jumble of thoughts break off as Hatsunosuke arrives home, and with a return to his point of view, we see the ensuing nosebleed incident through his eyes. As Hatsunosuke goes upstairs to wake Satoko, he no sooner rouses her than her nose suddenly begins to bleed. She 223 catches hold of Hatsunosuke who pulls away. The blood on his s h i r t , the cigarette in the ashtray, and the two closeted together upstairs provide the fuel for Michiyo*s angry outburst on her return home. Upstairs, listening to Michiyo's scolding voice, Satoko and her point of view are brought to the fore once again. Crying, Satoko feels very lonely, when suddenly her right leg touches the bag of takenoko %\ \ (bamboo shoots) set down by Michiyo in her rage. Imagining she i s married and that the bag of takenoko i s her husband sleeping beside her, Satoko kicks the parcel away, and i t topples over onto the floor with a thud. Feeling better after this symbolic rejection of a new growth into adulthood, Satoko stretches out and daydreams about her boy friend in Tokyo. She wonders how long i t w i l l be before her father sends her money: Satoko had very l i t t l e money l e f t . Money, money;, money, Satoko wanted money so desperately she could almost taste i t . She wondered i f she would be able to borrow something from Hatsunosuke. 14 Here, Satoko's point of view i s discontinued as the narrative shifts back to Hatsunosuke. Satoko*s thoughts reveal her to be an exceedingly self-centred and childlike young woman. Her thoughts, searching continually for some puerile self-gratification, provide a 224 striking contrast with the very adult situations in which she finds herself and which she i s ill-equipped to handle. Satoko's point of view is used also in chapters 1 and 5 as i t was in chapter 3 to encompass the main action: <of the adults in the story. Her point of view emphasizes not only the innocence and simplicity of her youth and her curiosity about adult l i f e but also brings into bold r e l i e f the miserable entanglements of the adult world. Here, in the contrast between Satoko*s world and that of Hatsunosuke and Michiyo, the Hayashi motif of child vs. adult reaches a polished perfection that belies the underlying narrative complexity. In Meshi, manipulation of point of view not only enhances the Satoko figure rand her world-view, i t also serves as the principal means of maintaining and developing the interplay of the various personal struggles. Just as Satoko's point of view i s positioned in such a way as to highlight her struggle for independence and maturity in the adult world, so, too, are the points of view of Michiyo and Hatsunosuke presented in ways which accentuate the nature of their own personal co n f l i c t s . For example, while chapters 1, 3, asid 5 present the points of view of Satoko, Michiyo, and Hatsunosuke in interaction, the alternating chapters 2, 4, and 6 present the points of view of only Michiyo and Hatsunosuke, as they 225 react to the Satoko-engendered events of the preceding odd-numbered chapters. Thus, a period of interaction and confrontation is followed by a period of questioning and deliberation, as both Michiyo and Hatsunosuke struggle to come to terms with their situation. The odd-numbered chapters also possess t i t l e s which reflect this interchange and movement: chapter 1 - "Yuranbasu1' (Sight-seeing Bus) , chapter 3 - "Amekaze" (Rainstorm), and chapter 5 - "Jan-jan yokocho" (Jingle-jangle Lane); while the even-numbered chapters possess t i t l e s which emphasize the inner reflection and deliberation that follow such turmoil: chapter 2 -"Nichijo" (Daily L i f e ) , chapter 4 - "Tsuma wa nande ik i r u ka" (What Does the Wife Live For?), and chapter 6 - "Aijo no seishitsu" (The Nature of Love). In these even-numbered chapters both Michiyo and Hatsunosuke embark upon <tortuous personal examinations of their boredom with each other and with their marriage. Chapter 7 breaks this pattern of interaction-deliberation, being presented solely from the point of view of Hatsunosuke, as he attempts to come to terms with the shock and dismay he experiences at Michiyo's departure. Thus, unlike' Ukigumo where point of view emphasized the disjunctiveness of Yukiko and Tomioka's relationship as well as the mutual incompatibility of their inner struggles, Meshi demonstrates, through effective 226 positioning of point of view, the growing need and desire of the two main protagonists to reach some kind of reconciliation either within themselves or, more hopefully, with each other. Within this overall pattern, the author develops further the inner struggles of both Michiyo and Hatsunosuke. These are shown to be conflicts which, although exacerbated by dissatisfactions with the tedium of everyday l i f e as well as by the presence of Satoko, have their origins in an additional contraposition of inner and outer. Although both Michiyo and Hatsunosuke are looking for answers,to their problem, the fact that the two cannot immediately agree : upon nor even discuss possible solutions l i e s primarily in the conflict between the two different worlds which each inhabit. In Meshi, as in "Seihin no sho," the domestic situation is portrayed very much as an inner sanctum, peaceful, safe, and secure. Although disrupted by outside forces such as the presence of Satoko or the unexpected shoe thief, the Okamoto household remains by and large a place of repose and retreat. I t . i s , however, much too quiet for Michiyo, who turnsvfcQ>the.outside'world"for.amusement and stimulation. It i s the outer world, a place wherein she has no place and in which she lacks any achievement or distinction, that Michiyo begins to look for self-fulfillment. 227 Hatsunosuke, on the other hand, an already active participant in the world outside the home, looks inward to the domestic setting and at his relationship with his wife in his search for happiness. For Hatsunosuke, any man without a wife i s weak and does not have the necessary 15 "strength for livin g . " Consequently, while Michiyo looks for self-fulfillment independent of her relationship with Hatsunosuke, hoping to acquire her own job or to adopt a chi l d , her husband seeks fulfillment within the marriage relationship and not outside i t . This contrast marks the presentation of both Michiyo's and Hatsunosuke' s pointsf.of view throughout the f i r s t six chapters of Meshi and i s a consistent factor in the portrayal of their inner struggles. By chapter 7, however, such matters begin to undergo some transformation, as Hatsunosuke alone in Osaka reconsiders his previous stand against adoption and writes to Michiyo, pouring out his love and pent-up emotion. At the same time, Michiyo prepares to return home. With both husband and wife prepared to compromise, i t seems like l y that their struggles for self-fulfillment w i l l be at least partially realized. That i s , Michiyo w i l l get a chance at raising a ch i l d , while Hatsunosuke w i l l once again enjoy the company of a wife no longer bored and dissatisfied. For both Michiyo and Hatsunosuke, their separation has brought pain 228 and hardship but also the p o s s i b i l i t y of self-knowledge and new growth. The story breaks off before we can discover whether such experiences w i l l bring true contentment or eventually, as the tedium of daily l i f e reasserts i t s e l f , serve only to renew old dissatisfactions. In Meshi, although no solution i s forthcoming, the impetus for renewal and reconciliation is present and active, and thus, more so than in other works, the possibility exists that husband and wife may at last reach some degree of mutual understanding and acceptance. Just as the expert handling of narrative technique imparts an underlying sense of union and reconciliation to the work, so, too, does the choice of style and the u t i l i z a t i o n of s t y l i s t i c devices contribute to the sense of appeasement and accord. Whereas poetic and romantic elements were brought to the fore in Ukigumo, primarily through the evocative portrayal of feeling and emotion, the use of such a technique i s considerably reduced in Meshi. In this work, the cerebral is of almost equal importance with the emotive, as the author presents characters who are prepared to approach their problems with a degree of thoughtful considerationnand inquiry not hitherto seen in Hayashi's works. The inner world of desire and emotion i s thus subjected to the demands of outer abstraction as both Michiyo 229 and Hatsunosuke ruminate upon the d i f f i c u l t i e s inherent in their relationship. This new conjoining of intellectual processes and emotional states i s instrumental in creating an atmosphere wherein husband and wife may at last draw together in love as well as in understanding. Such harmony is further reinforced by the author's effective combination of poetic and prosaic elements. This can be seen most clearly in the use of the Osaka setting. Here, the author blends both mundane and poetic in colourful descriptions of a city wholeheartedly given over to the pursuit of commercial success yet at the same time glorified and immortalized by the poetic imagery found in the domestic tragedies of the celebrated playwright of the puppet theatre, Chikamatsu Monzaemon UL 1653-1725). With i t s reputation for brash financial enterprise as well as for the elegant romances of the puppet stage, this city represents a congenial amalgamation of outer and inner concerns that so frequently characterize Hayashi's work. The harmonizing of thought and desire, outer and inner, prosaic and poetic is apparent throughout the story but can be seen most readily in the very f i r s t pages of Meshi, where Hatsunosuke and Satoko tour Osaka on a sight-seeing bus: 230 Hatsunosuke thought over Michiyo's sudden refusal to go that morning: "Was i t perhaps because, after having lived together for five years, they had now entered what some c a l l the stage of boredom with married l i f e " ? No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when he heard again the mellifluous tones of the tour guide's soft Osaka pronunciation: "Farewell to this world, and to the night, too, farewell. We who walk the road to death, to what should we be likened? To the frost by the road that leads to the graveyard, vanishing with each step we take ahead. How sad is this dream of a dream." Startled, Hatsunosuke looked at the tour guide. She had raised her right hand to her shoulder, as she pointed out the Tenshin shrine where the young Ohatsu and her lover had died long ago. The area was also called Rotenshin and had recently become a lane of grocery shops and small restaurants. In the morning, the doors were s t i l l closed, but at night i t was no doubt a bright and busy thoroughfare. Hatsunosuke caught a glimpse of a signboard menu and a large paper lantern on which the word "Meals" had been painted in bold brushstrokes. 16 Here, the author merges poetic and mundane motifs,x,as.ah ordinary sight-seeing tour proceeds through a variety of romantic and picturesque spots. The world of aware (sadness, pity) and the world of meshi (meals) are made to share common ground in a unique juxtaposition that avers traditional poetic values while at the same time underlining the v i t a l i t y of contemporary modern l i f e . Although i t hangs above the scene of a long-ago lovers' 231 suicide, the paper lantern boldly affirms the concrete re a l i t i e s of everyday existence. Thus, in Meshi, unlike Ukigumo, the past lives within the present and is not separate from i t , while death, especially the lovers' suicide, no longer seems like a viable alternative to the problems of l i f e . Never once do any of Meshi's characters consider death as a possible solution to their d i f f i c u l t i e s , and as the tour guide goes on to point out the scene of another such suicide from the Chikamatsu repertoire, Shinju  Ten no Amijima tvr ^  K M$\ j|] (The Love Suicides at Amijima), we learn that Satoko, the epitome of modern womanhood, i s not even familiar with the names of the main protagonists of this famous play. Nonetheless, i t i s significant that Shinju Ten no  Amijima portrays a love triangle in which a young wife and a beautiful courtesan are both rivals for the husband's affection. This i s a situation similar to that of Meshi, where Hatsunosuke finds both Michiyo and Satoko demanding his attentions. Similar to Jihei in Shinju Ten no Amijima, Hatsunosuke, too, derives pleasure and gratification from the company of both women; yet whereas Jihei eventually chooses to remain with the courtesan and die, Hatsunosuke, somewhat less romantically, chooses his wife and l i f e . The churlish grandfather in Shinju Teh no Amijima would also 232 seem to have a counterpart in the figure of Michiyo's uncle. A much more pleasant character than the e v i l grandfather of Shinju Ten no Amijima, Michiyo's uncle is nonetheless an uncompromising sort of gentleman who, similar to Chikamatsu's grandfather, abides s t r i c t l y by the dictates of Osaka-style giri>-ninjo j | ^ ^\ (duty 17 and human feeling). Although in essence a rather different kind of story from Chikamatsu's play, Meshi exhibits several important links with the classical theatre piece, thereby acquiring the poetic flavour of the domestic tragedy. Atv.the same time through i t s own emphasis on the more vigourous and self-assertive s p i r i t of modern love, i t offers a fresh interpretation of an old and f:amiliar story. Meshi, then, as the t i t l e implies, is about l i f e and about a l l those things which, to Hayashi, help sustain human existence — love, food, and money. Even though the inner conflicts of the protagonists are brought to the fore and provide the central focus of this novel, the author's expert handling of setting and character stresses the charm and substance of everyday l i f e and thus, together with!the emphasis on the inner struggle, helps to erect within the bounds of her commonplace scenario a more a r t i s t i c level of meaning and significance. Unfinished as i t i s , we can but speculate upon the further development and eventual conclusion 233 of the story. Yet, even in this incomplete state, Meshi offers sufficient food for thought, not only as Hayashi's f i n a l work but also as a work which marked new directions for the author and which, with i t s vigourous treatment of the problems and concerns of modern l i f e and love, allows us to appreciate s t i l l further the persistent v i t a l i t y of Hayashi's art. CONCLUSION 234 From the early tempestuous beginnings to the sudden denouement at the height of success, Hayashi Fumiko's literary career proceeded along a route seldom equalled in the annals of modern Japanese literature. Her sheer dauntlessness in the face of a l l odds, her tenacity of purpose, and her uncompromising dedication to success find a corresponding energy and forcefulness in the contexture of her literature i t s e l f . Yet at the same time, the extent of this powerful v i t a l i t y is startling and, as this[--thesis shows, encompasses not only thematic and structural elements of this author's style and technique but the entire mode of her literary art. For Hayashi, the battle for survival and success in her own l i f e was transformed in her writings into the poetic and romantic struggles of her literary creations. Focusing upon the hardships and deprivations suffered by the downtrodden classes of Japanese society, Hayashi gave voice to the thoughts and feelings of those who could not speak for themselves and, through her own considerable talent and a b i l i t y , succeeded more eloquently than many proletarian writers in capturing the v i t a l essence of this human struggle and raising i t to the realm of great art. In spite of her early successes, however, 235 Hayashi's achievement was not a sudden f a i t accompli but involved a protracted process of change and development which took place over a period of years and which, as this dissertation shows, may be viewed in terms of five major stages of accomplishment. The", earliest stage, covering the years 1922-1930, saw f i r s t of a l l the establishment of the author as a poet and secondly;as a writer of her own distinctive brand of poetry and prose. Her work here was to culminate in the serialization and eventual publication of Horoki, her f i r s t literary success. In Horoki Hayashi depicted, albeit in fictional form, her own struggles for literary recognition. At the same time she also set up a basic narrative and thematic framework which was to underlie a l l of her subsequent fic t i o n a l writing. Based upon the conflict and contrast between the outer struggle with necessity and circumstance and the inner struggle for a r t i s t i c realization, this framework was extended and developed further in Hayashi's work of the second period (1931-1938). Here, the inner struggle i s amplified to include the struggle for maturity and independence ("Fukin to sakana no machi") as well as the struggle for true love ("Seihin no sho"). In both stories, the inner struggle prevails, engendering positive growth and change. Although Hayashi's treatment of 236 autobiographical material would no longer be an important feature in her work after these early phases, the poetic and l y r i c a l treatment of struggle in these early writings would continue to flavour her later novels and stories, imbuing them with a powerful emotive quality which would emerge most f u l l y in works of the mature fourth period. Hayashi was to make a major break with her early work during the years 1935-1942, the third or middle period of her career, in which she undertook the writing of "objective" novels based primarily upon domestic themes and upon the hardships of women who seek to find their own way through l i f e . Inazuma chronicles the misfortune and unhappiness of two such women and sets the tone for other works from this period — dark pieces in which the inner struggles of the protagonists succumb to the dictates of the outer struggle with circumstance. At the same time, the defiance and determination of the individual is set forth as a dynamic and elemental force, which harks back to the earliest poetry and proclaims in the idiom of Hayashi*s new prose format the irrepressible s p i r i t and courage of those whose struggles in l i f e seem destined to go unrewarded. The fourth period, extending from the years 1946 to 1949, brings evidence of a new maturity and fresh a r t i s t i c vision, as Hayashi chronicles the ultimate struggle of 237 humankind against the tides of war and death. Although the main protagonists of Ukigumo, the representative work of this period, fare rather badly in this often unequal battle, this work nonetheless stands out as Hayashi's most evocative and poignant portrayal of the vagaries and vicissitudes of human relationships. Here, the inner struggle comes to dominate the outer with tragic results, as Hayashi reaches the acme of her career. Ironically, this most intense and least successful of a l l the struggles depicted in Hayashi's works seems to have brought out the best in this writer, making Ukigumo Hayashi's undoubted masterpiece not only in i t s complexity of theme and character but also in i t s new sophistication of style and technique. Although the last period of Hayashi's career (1950-1951) is brief, i t is nonetheless remarkable for the author's attempt to forge ahead, searching out new themes and taking new directions in her never-ending quest for literary success. In Meshi, the unfinished yet most characteristic work of this period, we find the conflict between the inner and outer struggle in a new, contemporary setting as the author endeavours to reconcile the antagonisms inherent in her own literary world-view. No longer preoccupied with wartime 238 themes, Meshi brings domestic concerns once again to the fore. Yet here, unlike the domestic-oriented works of the third period, the touch i s l i g h t , with the two protagonists coming together in love and understanding. In this sense, Meshi seems to echo Hayashi's youthful works, such as "Seihin no sho" and "Fukin to sakananno machi," where the inner struggle flourished amidst the hardship of trying circumstances and in the end brought new growth and eventual happiness. Although the new promise evinced by Meshi was never f u l f i l l e d due to Hayashi's untimely death, this work nevertheless stands out as a fine example of this writer's attempt, in her last years, to achieve a harmonious integration of theme and technique within the bounds of the familiar domestic novella. While this evaluation of Hayashi's works has attempted to offer some insight into the tremendous v i t a l i t y and diversity of an important modern Japanese author relatively unknown in the West, i t also implies the need for further study and reassessment of modern Japanese women writers in general. Even though forced to fight against a literary world which relegated women writers to a position of relative i n f e r i o r i t y as well as against the d i f f i c u l t conditions of her own early upbringing, Hayashi was able 239 to emerge as an acclaimed and respected author, a fact which tes t i f i e s not only to her own personal courage and determination but also, more importantly, to the powerful appeal of her f i c t i o n , which even today stands out as a unique and distinctive contribution to modern literature. Setting her stories amid the lowest orders of society, Hayashi did not hesitate to depict the s t r i f e and hardship therein. At the same time, by juxtaposing the individual's inner struggles with the struggle for survival in the outer world, Hayashi was able to affirm not merely the worth and v i t a l i t y of the inner world of human feeling but also the essence of struggle i t s e l f . Thus, with consummate s k i l l and a l i v e l y , uncommon a r t i s t r y , Hayashi managed to capture the elemental nature of humanity's most basic needs and desires, and by elevating these mundane passions to a poetic realm where the commonplace and the t r i v i a l become the very force and substance of l i f e i t s e l f , she succeeded in creating an extensive body of literature that celebrates with bravura and gusto the endless human struggle for survival, happiness, and success. NOTES 240 Introduction 1 Notable among these are three volumes of translations: Rabbits, Crabs, Etc.: Stories by Japanese Women, ed. and t r . by Phyllis Birnbaum; This Kind of Woman: Ten Stories by  Japanese Women Writers, 1960-1976, ed. and t r . by Yukiko Tanaka and Elizabeth Hanson; Stories by Contemporary Japanese  Women Writers, ed. and t r . by Noriko Mizuta Lippit and Kyoko Iriye Selden. A l l of these appeared in 1982. Also deserving mention i s Donald Keene's study "The Revival of Writing by Women," in Dawn to the West: Japanese Literature of the Modern  Era: Fiction. For f u l l citations, see Bibliography of this thesis. 2 . _ Ozaki Ichio, Mogura yokocho and Mayumi Ichio, Hayashi Fumiko, in Hayashi Fumiko: gendai no esgp;uri»^id.- itagaki; Naoko (Tokyo: Shibundo, 1965), pp. 146-174 and pp. 175-189. 3 Nakamura Mitsuo, "Hayashi Fumiko ron," in Gendai  nihon bungaku zehshu, Vol. 45 (Tokyo: Chikuma Shobo, 1954), p. 405. Chapter 1 1 According to her biographers, Hayashi seems to have f i r s t entered primary school in Nagasaki, but her name i s not found in the school register in question. See Itagaki Naoko, Hayashi Fumiko no shogai: uzushio ho jinsei (Tokyo: 241 Daiwa Shobo, 1965), pp. 57-^58. Also Imagawa Eiko, "Nenpu," in Hayashi Fumiko zenshu, V o l . 16 (Tokyo: Bunsendo, 1977), p. 286. Subsequently she attended primary schools i n Sasebo and then i n Shimonoseki. 2 -Itagaki Naoko, ed., "Hayashi Fumiko no shogai, bungaku, hit o oyobi jinseikan," i n Gendai no esupu'ri;, *pp. 7-9. 3 _ Hirabayashi Taiko, Hayashi Fumiko (Tokyo: Shinchosha, 1969), p. 44. 4 Hana no xnochx wa mijikakute kurushi koto nomi o k a r i k i . Adachi Ken'ichi, ed., Gendai nihon bungaku arubamu 13:  Hayashi Fumiko (Tokyo: Gakushu Kenkyusha, 1974), p. 178. Translations of t i t l e s , quoted passages, or phrases i n thi s thesis are mine unless otherwise indicated. Due to the specialized nature of poetic language i n general, Japanese texts of Hayashi's poetry w i l l be included i n the notes i n romanized form. The texts of prose passages selected for t r a n s l a t i o n , however, w i l l not appear unless the o r i g i n a l Japanese i s necessary to the an a l y s i s . 5 "' - , Itagakx, Shogai, p. 86. c Hayashi Fumiko, "Oshaka-sama," i n Aouma o m i t a r i , i n Hayashi zenshu, V o l . 1, pp. 14-15: 242 Watakushi wa; oshaka-sama ni koi o shimashita' honoka ni tsumetai kuchibiru ni seppun sureba aa mottainai hodo no shibiregokoro ni narimasuru. 8in kara k i r i made mottainasa ni nadaraka na chishio ga gyakuryu shimasuru renge ni suwashita kokoro nikui made ochitsuki haratta sono otokoburi ni sukkari watakushi no tamashii wa tsurarete shimaimashita. Qshaka-sama anmari tsurenaide wa gozarimasenuka! Hachi no su no yo ni kowareta watakushi no shinzo no naka ni oshaka-sama namu amida butsu no mujo o satosu no ga no de mo arimasumai ni sono otokoburi de hono no sama na watakushi no mune ni tobikonde kudasarimase zokusei ni yogoreta kono onna no kubi o shinu hodo dakishimete kudasarimase Namu amida butsu no oshaka-sama! This poem also appears in the Horoki text. 7 — Itagaki, Shogai, p. 91. 8 - — Hiyashi Fumiko, ''Joko no utaeru," in Adachi, p. 133: Watakushi wa bimbo de arinagara sora e tobiagaru koto o kangaeru watakushi wa —*tetsu no kusari de ashi o iwaerarete iru no da! Rogoku no naka de watakushi no me wa saegirarete i r u ! - Chiisa na mado no aoba ichiyo no furue ni watakushi wa 5zora no hirosa oshiete i r u zo! Baka ni suru na! 243 watakushi wa watakushi no chikara o shinjite i r u . Bimbo de mo chikara wa arun'da! Jibun no chikara o s h i n j i , watakushi wa kanashimanu. Keredo mazushii bakkari ni? tatta h i t o r i no chikara yue ne —•< dara dara to mimizu no yo ni sono hi sono hi o xxx no tame n i , sainamarete ikite iruv Koraekirenu kuyashisa n i , watakushi no maeba wa, kuishibatta kuchibiru no aida de, hibana o chirashi nagara, surierasarete yuku! Hayashi, "Kurushii uta," in Aouma o mitari, pp. 18-20: Tonaribito to ka nikushin to ka koibito to ka sore ga nan de aro •— seikatsu no naka no kuu to iu koto ga manzoku de nakattara egaita airashii hana wa shibondeshimau kaikatsu ni hatarakitai mono da to omotte mo akko-zogon no naka ni watakushi wa i j i r a s h i i hodo chilsaku shagande i r u . Ryote o takaku sashiagete mo miru ga konna ni mo kawaii onna o uragitte iku ningen bakari na no Ra!__ Itsu made mo ningyo o daite damatte iru watakushi de wa nai. Onaka ga suite mo shoku ga nakute mo wo! to sakende wa naranain'desu yo kofuku na kata ga mayu o ohisome ni naru. Chi o fuite monshi shitatte biku to mo suru daichi de wa nain'desu ato kara ato kara karera wa kenko na hogan o yoi shite i r u . Chinretsu bako ni fukashitate no pan ga aru ga watakushi no shiranai seken wa nan to maa piano no yo ni karuyaka ni utsukushii no desu. Soko de hajimete kamisama konchikusho to hakinaritaku narimasu. 244 "Kurushii uta'' also appears i n Horoki. Since the name of the author and protagonist are i d e n t i c a l , Fumiko w i l l be used when r e f e r r i n g to the Horoki protagonist, and Hayashi w i l l be used when r e f e r r i n g to the author of the work. 1 1 Hayashi Fumiko, Horoki, i n Hayashi zehshu, V o l . 1, p. 281. 12 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 290. 13 Hirabayashi, p. 63. 1 4 See Imagawa, pp. 291-293, for t i t l e s and dates of publication of the various episodes. 1 5 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 340: Shinchu tte donna mono daro kane da kane da kane ga hitsuyo na no da! Kane wa tenka no mawarimono datte i u kedo watakushi wa hataraite mo hataraite mo mawatte konai. 1 6 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 547. Itagaki, Shogai, p. 85; Yamamoto Kenkichi, "Hayashi Fumiko," i n Gendai ho esupuri, yp.45. Nakamura Mitsuo o f f e r s another suggestion i n h i s "Hayashi Fumiko ron," i n Gendai  nihon bungaku zenshu, p. 407; he c a l l s Horoki a " c o l l e c t i o n of notes on one's personal l i f e . ' ' TO — . Wada Yoshie, "Kaisetsu," i n Hayashi Fumiko shu:  gendai no bungaku 17 (Tokyo: Kawade Shobo Shinsha, 1965), p. 504. 245 19 - _ Hayashi Fumiko, "Ketteiban Horoki hashigaki," in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 16, p. 218, and also 'Horoki II: Hayashi Fumiko bunko atogaki," in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 16, p. 268. 20 Months alone are given in the text; I have assigned years to the chronology to provide a convenient point of reference. 21 ""-Itagaki, Shogai, p. 98. 22 Itagaki, Shogai, p. 98. Part III was not published until several years after Nomura's death in 1940. 23 _ _ Hayashi, Horoki, p. 436. Calmotin is a sleeping medicine. 24 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 437. 25 - - . Hayashi, Horoki, p. 275. 26 — — Hayashi, Horoki, p. 410. 27 _ — Hayashi, Horoki, p. 417. 28 Yamamoto, "Hayashi Fumiko,'' p. 48. jq _ _ While both Basho and Saigyo are well-known as poet-wanderers, Basho is also distinguished as a writer of prose essays and travel diaries. Lady Nijo's Towazugatari t fo recounts her journeys about Japan and has been translated by Karen Brazell as The Confessions of Lady Nijo (Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1973). 30 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 461. 246 31 32 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 336. Hayashi, Horoki, p. 295. 33 ' im/ ' im' ' ' ' ~ Hayashi, Horoki, p. 416. 34 -Hayashi, Horoki, p. 328: Kaze ga naru shiroi sora da! Fuyu no suteki ni tsumetai umi da kyojin datte k i r i k i r i mai o shite me no sameso na ounabara daz Shikoku made ipponsuji no koro da. Mofu_ga niju sen okashi ga juwsen santo kyakushitsu wa kutabarikaketa dojo nabe no yo ni monosugoi futto da Shibuki da ame no yo na shibuki da miharukasu shiroi sora o nagame juisseini^xi zaichu no saifu o nigitte i t a . Aa batto* de mo suitai wo! to sakende mo kaze ga fukikeshite iku yo. Shiroi ozora ni watakushi ni su o nomaseta otoko no kao ga anna ni okiku, anna ni okiku aa yappari sabishii hitoritabi da! *Batto (Bat) i s a cheap brand of cigarette. 3 5 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 395. 3 6 Hayashi, Horbki, pp. 349-350: Fuji o mita Fujiyama o mita akai yuki de mo furaneba Fuji o i i yama da to homeru ni wa ataranai anna yama nanka ni makete naru mono ka kisha no mado kara nando mo omotta kaiso togatta yama no kokoro wa watakushi no yabureta seikatsu o obiyakashi watakushi no me o samuzamu to miorosu. 247 Fuji o mita Fujiyama o mita to r i yo ano yama no yane kara chojo e to tobikoete ike shinku na kuchi de hitotsu azawaratte yare kaze yo! Fuji wa yuki no taihiden da biyun, biyun fukimakure Fujiyama wa Nippon no imeji da sufinkusu da yume no koi nosutarujia da ma no sumu taihiden da. Fuji o miro Fujiyama o miro Hokusai no egaita katte no omae no sugata no naka ni waka wakashii omae no hibana o mita keredo ima wa oikuchita tsuchi manju giro giro shita me o itsu mo sora_ni mukete i r u omae naze futomei na yuki no naka ni tohi shite i r u no da tor i yo kaze yo ano shirajira to saekaetta Fujiyama no kata o tataite yare arenas gin no shiro de wa nai fuko no hisomu yuki no taihiden da Fujiyama! omae ni atama o sagenai onna go koko ni hitoriy tatte iru omae o azawarashite iru onna ga koko ni i r u . Fujiyama yo Fuji yo sassatsu to shita omae no hi no yo na jonetsu ga biyun_biyun unatte gorajo na kanojo no kubi o tataki kaesu made watakushi wa yukai ni kuchibue o fuite matte iyo. 37 A v i s i t to Sarashina i s a traditional pilgrimage for poet-travellers in Japan. Basho's v i s i t to Sarashina to view the moon is recorded in his Sarashina kiko ^ ^ # t ! _ , f f (Sarashina Diary, 1688). For one translation, see Donald Keene's "Basho*s Journey to Sarashina," Transactions of the  Asiatic Society of Japan, Third Series, V (December, 1957), 248 pp. 56-83. Basho also visited Hiraizumi in his well-known travel diary, Oku no hosomichi "> (£ "? \jf, (1689.). For one translation, see Earl Miner's "The Narrow Road Through the Provinces," i n Japanese Poetic Diaries (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1969), pp. 155-197. 38 Itagaki, "Hayashi Fumiko no shogai," in Gendai no esupuri, p. 78. 39 **_ „ Hayashi, Horoki, p. 468. 40 "_ Hayashi, Horoki, p. 290. 41 - -Hayashi, Horoki, p. 542. 4 2 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 472. chiisakute daruma* mitai de yoku naite i r u okorinbo i i e mo i i no yo otoko nanka do demo i i dakiatte neru dake no koto *Daruma: a small rocking doll that, when tumbled over, always rights i t s e l f . Hayashi, Horoki, p. 401. 4 4 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 402. 45 — — Hayashi, Horoki, p. 410. 4fi — -Hayashi, Horoki, p. 299. 4 7 " _ Hayashi, Horoki, p. 480. 4 8 T.A. Sebeok, trans,, Morphology of the Folktale, by Vladimir Propp, 2nd ed. (1928 orig. ed.; 1958 f i r s t translation 249 ed. by Lawrence Scott; rpt, Austin: University of Texas Press, 1968), passim. 49 Itagaki, "Hayashi Fumiko no shogai, bungaku, hito oyobi jinseikan," p, 10. 50 - -Hayashi, Horoki, p. 364. ., pp. 29,1-292. ., pp. 462-463. :, p. 290. ., p. 269. p. 459. ., p. 459. ., pp. 476-477. ., pp. 432-433. :, p. 521. Hunger (1890) was the f i r s t novel of the Norwegian novelist, Knut Hamsun, who received the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1920. It recounts the 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 Hayashi, Horoki,Hayashi, Horoki,Hayashi, HorokiHayashi, Horoki,Hayashi, Horoki, Hayashi, Horoki,Hayashi, Horoki,Hayashi, Horoki,Hayashi, Horokitorments of a struggling young writer as he attempts to make from his work. Hayashi, Horoki, pp. 453-454: a living 60 Ude tamago tonde k o i . Anko no taiyaki tonde koi. Ichigo no jamupan tonde k o i . Horaiken no shina soba tonde koi. 61 The legend of Mount Shigi features a flying rice bowl that magically brings food to i t s owner. 250 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 543, 63 — — ' Hayashi, Horoki, p. 473. 64 _ _ Hayashi, Horoki, p. 503. 6 5 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 273: Minna '.iu-sopipachi^bakari no sekai datta Koshu* yuki no shuressha ga atama no ue o _hashitte yuku_ maketto no okujo no yo ni ryoryo to shita zenseikatsu o furisutete watakushi wa kichin-yado no futon ni jomyaku o nobashite i r u ressha ni funsai sarete_shigai o watakushi wa tanin no yo ni dakishimete mita mayonaka susuketa shoji o akeru to konna tokoro ni mo sora ga atte tsuki ga odokete i t a . Minasama sayonara! watakushi wa yuganda saikoro ni natte mata gyaku modori koko wa kichin-yado no yaneura desu watakushi wa taiseki sareta ryoshu o tsukamu de hyohyo to kaze ni fukarete i t a . *Koshu is modern Yamanashi Prefecture. 6 6 Hayashi, Horoki, p. 408: Kingu obu* o juhai nomasete kuretara watakushi wa anata ni seppun o hitotsu nagemasho aa, aware na kyujijo yo. aoi mado no soto wa ame no kiriko garasu rantan no akari no shita de minna sake ni natte shimatta kakumei to wa hoppo ni fuku kaze ka! sake wa buchimakete shimattan'desu. teiburu no sake no ue ni shinku na kuchi o aite hi o haita no desu aoi epuron de maimashoka kinkonshiki, soretomo kyaraban konban no butokyoku wa... sa mada ato sanpai mo aru 251 shikkari shite i r u ka tte ee daijobu yo watakushi wa ^oriko na hito na no ni honto ni oriko na hito na no ni watakushi wa watakushi no kimochi o tsumaranai buta no yo na otokotachi e oshigemonaku kiribana no yo ni furimaite- irun'desu aa kakumei to wa hoppo ni fuku kaze ka. *Kingu obu (King of Kings) i s a brand of whisky. Hayashi, Horoki, p. 4 3 9 . Hayashi, Horoki, p. 4 4 7 . Hayashi, Horoki, pp. 4 6 3 - 4 6 4 : Inki o katte kaeru. ^ ^ Nantoka shite omemoji itashitaku.sOro. Okane ga hoshiku soro. Tada no juen de mo yoroshiku soro. _ Manon Resuko* to, yukata to, geta to kaitaku soro. Shina soba ga ippai tabetaku soro. _ _ Kaminari-mon Sukeroku**o kiki ni ikitaku soro. Chosen de mo Manshu e de mo hataraki ni ikitaku soro. Tatta ichido omemoji itashitakuf.soro. Honto ni okane ga hoshiku sbro. *Manon Resuko (Manon Lescaut), an eighteenth century French romance by Abbe Prevost d'Exiles, is the story of the beautiful but unfaithful Manon, who treats her lovers with a callous but charming disregard similar to that expressed in the above poem. * * Sukeroku i s a well-known Kabuki play. Hayashi, Horoki, p. 4 7 7 : Mo j i k i fuyu ga kuru sora ga so i t t a mo j i k i fuyu ga kuru 252 yama no ki ga so i t t a . Keeame ga hashitte i i ni ikita yubinya-^san ga marui boshi o kabutta. Yoru ga i i ni kita mo j i k i fuyu ga kuru nezumi i i ni kita tenjo ura de nezumi ga su o tsukuri hajimeta. Fuyu o seotte ningen ga inaka kara takusan yatte kuru. Hayashi, Horoki, p. 518. Hayashi, Horoki, p. 547. Aoi kabi no haeta ni-sen doka yo ushigoya no mae de haratta ni-sen doka okikute omokute nameru to amai hebi ga magarikunette iru moyo Meiji sanju yonnen umare no kokuin to i mukashi da ne watakushi wa mada umarete mo i n a i . aa totemo shiawase na tezawari nandemo kaeru shokkan usugawa manju mo kaeru oki na amedama ga yotsu ne hai de migaite pika pikafiikarasete rekishi no aka o otoshite jitton -watakushi wa tanagokoro ni oite nagameru marude kinka no yo ni pika pika hikaru ni-sen doka bunchin ni shite mitari hadaka no heso no ue ni nosete mitari nakayoku asonde kureru ni-sen doka yo. Chapter 2 ^ Adachi, p. 217. 2 Hayashi Fumiko, "Bungakuteki jijodenf" in Hayashi  zenshu, Vol. 10, p. 7. 253 3 Hayashi, "Bungakuteki jijoden," p. 8. 4 -Fukuda Kiyoto and Ehdb Mitsuhiko, Hayashi Fumikot hito to sakuhin (Tokyo: Shimizu Shoin, 1966), p. 71. 5 Fukuda, pp. 71-72. 6 Hayashi,Fumiko, "Fukin to sakana no machi," in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 2, p. 14. 7 Hayashi, "Fukin," p. 18. 8 Hayashi, "Fukin," p. 14. 9 Hayashi, "Fukin," p. 7. 1 0 Hayashi, "Fukin," p. 8. 1 1 A kind of cheap local f i s h . 1 2 Hayashi, "Fukin," p. 16. 13 — Hayashi Fumiko, "Fukin to sakana no machi — gendai bungakusen (14) atogaki," in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 16, p. 237. 1 4 Hayashi, "Fukin," p. 16. 1 5 Adachi, p. 217. 1 6 Thought Police (tokko <ff" %\ ) was the name given to that branch of the Japanese police force which, under the Peace Preservation Law of 1925, investigated so-called radical or subversive groups which threatened the politico-ideological status quo. 17 Eleazar M. Meletinsky, "Marriage: Its Function and Position in the Structure of Folktales," in Soviet Structural  F o l k l o r i s t i c s , ed. P. Maranda (The Hague: Mouton, 1974), p. 61. 254 18 The equation of the pure with the beautiful is not only an aesthetic concept but a cultural attitude that pervades Japanese l i f e . The wholesale acceptance of this attitude can perhaps be most readily seen in the familiar Japanese word k i r e i ^ ^ which has a dual meaning of both beautif uMand:.pure. 19 Vol. 2, p. 110 20 Hayashi Fumiko, "Seihin no sho," in Hayashi zenshu, 10. Hayashi, "Seihin no sho," p. 110. 21 Hayashi, "Seihin no sho," p. 111. 22 Hayashi, "Seihin no sho," p. 116. 23 Hayashi, "Seihin no sho," p. 120. 24 Hayashi, "Seihin no sho," p. 118. This quotation is from Basho's haibun Sharakudo no ki y$i) 'H ~tt^ written in 1691. For complete text, see Komiya Toyotaka, ed., Basho  zenshu, Vol. 6 (Tokyo: Kadokawa Shoten, 1962), pp. 451-453. 2 5 Hayashi, "Seihin no sho," p. 109. 2 6 Hayashi, "Seihin no sho," p. 129. 2 7 Hayashi, "Seihin no sho," pp. 130^131: Akikaoru susuki karu kaya aki kusa no sabishiki kiwami kimi ni okuramu. 28 Itagaki, Shogai, p. 118, 255 Itagaki, Shogai, p. 118, remarks upon the exchange of love letters in Eugene Onegin as a possible inspiration for "Seihin no sho." According to D.J. Richards, "Russian Views of Pushkin," in Eugene Onegin, trans. Walter Aimdt (New York: E.P. Dutton, 1963), p. xxxi, Pushkin i s also noted for his bright and optimistic tone, perhaps another feature of his work that attracted Hayashi. Chapter 3 1 Itagaki, Shogai, p. 135. 2 Hayashi, "Bungakuteki jijoden," p. 4. 3 Adachi, p. 210. "Kaki" f i r s t appeared in the September 1935 issue of Chuo koron. 4 — Itagaki, Shogai, pp. 132-134. ^ This information is from my supervisor, Professor Kinya Tsuruta. fi — Itagaki, Shogai, pp. 133-134. 7 — Itagaki, Shogai, p. 144. Q Imagawa, p. 299, 9 Hayashi Fumiko, Naklmushi kozo, in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 2, pp. 298-299. 1 0 Adachi, p. 210. Tama in Japanese means newel or precious stone. 12 — — Hayashi Fumiko, "Sosaku noto: Inazuma ni tsuite," in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 16, p. 168. 256 l 3 Hayashi, "Inazuma ni tsuite," p. 170. 14 _ Hayashi Fumiko, Inazuma, in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 3, p. 102. 15 Hayashi, Inazuma, p.16. *6 Hayashi, Inazuma, p. 35; p. 38. 17 Hayashi, Inazuma, p. 99. lg Hayashi, Inazuma, p. 36. 19 Hayashi, Inazuma, p. 17. 20 Hayashi, Inazuma, p. 1 . Chapter 4 1 Hayashi Fumiko, "Dowa no sekai," in Hayashi zenshu, pp. 46-47 . Hayashi, "Dowa no sekai," pp. 48-49 . Vol. 16, 2 3 _ Hayashi, "Dowa no sekai," p. 49 . ^ "Bangiku" appeared f i r s t in Bungei shunju j t ^ ^ ^ ^ v in November 1948. 5 Nakamura Mitsuo, "Hayashi Fumiko ron," in Gendai nihon bungaku zenshu, p. 409. 6 Wada,!»Kaisetsuvl^P.^5Q9 .1 •>• 7 Nakajima Kenzo, "Ningen: Hayashi Fumiko," in Gendai no esiupjuri,;p.^66. 8 — — Okubo Norio, "Sengo bungakushi no naka no joryu bungaku — Hayashi Fumiko Ukigumo no i c h i , " in Kokubungaku 257 kaishaku to kansho (March 1 9 7 2 ) , p. 48, 9 -Okubo, p. 4 9 . 10 Hayashi Fumiko, "Ukigumo atogaki," in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 1 6 , p. 2 8 1 . 1 1 Hayashi Fumiko, Ukigumo, in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 8 , p. 1 7 0 . Urashima Taro i s a poor fisherman in Japanese folk-tale who returns to a changed Japan after a lengthy stay in the palace of the dragon king. He quickly turns into an old man when he breaks his promise to the dragon princess. 12 13 14 Hayashi, Ukigumo, p. 2 8 4 . Hayashi, Ukigumo, p. 4 2 0 . Kawazoe Kunimoto, "Hayashi Fumiko *Bangiku" ni tsuite," in Kokubungaku kaishaku to kansho (September 1 9 5 1 ) , p. 8 . 15 Hirabayashi, p. 1 6 9 . 16 Hayashi, Ukigumo r P . 2 3 9 . 17 Hayashi, Ukigumo f P . 2 1 4 . 18 Hayashi, Ukigumo f P . 1 9 8 . 19 Hayashi, Ukigumo t P . 2 5 5 . 20 Hayashi, Uk igumo, t P . 2 4 2 . 21 Hayashi, Ukigumo t P . 3 5 7 . 22 Hayashi, Ukigumo f PP . 2 4 6 - 2 4 7 . 23 Hayashi, Ukigumo r P . 2 6 1 . 24 Hayashi, Ukigumo t P . 2 0 7 . 258 25 Hayashi, Ukigumo, p. 268. 2g Hayashi, Ukigumo, p. 411. 27 Michiyuki: a "journey" scene in traditional Japanese theatre. In the domestic plays of Kabuki and the puppet theatre, the michiyuki is often the scene of two lovers setting out on the road to death. 2 g Hayashi, Ukigumo, p. 260. 29 Hayashi, Ukigumo, p. 270. 3^ Hayashi, •Ukigumo, p. 169. Chapter 5 1 Togaeri Hajime, "Hayashi Fumiko ni tsuite," in Gendai no esupuri ,:>p .61. 2 Imagawa, p. 309. 3 ^ Muramatsu Sadataka, "Hayashi Fumiko," in Nihon joryu bungaku shi? ^Tokyoj Dobun Shoin, 1969), I I , p. 292. 4 . . . _ Hayashi Fumiko, Onna kazoku, in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 9, pp. 535-536. Onna kazoku f i r s t appeared in serial form in Fujin koron from January to August 1951. 5 Itagaki, Shogai, p. 197. 6 Hayashi Fumiko, "Watakushi no shosetsu noto," in Hayas hi ze n s hu, Vol. 16, p. 183. 7 _ Hayashi Fumiko, Meshi, in Hayashi zenshu, Vol. 9, p. 316. 259 o Hayashi, Meshi, pp. 280-281. 9 Hayashi, Meshi, p. 317. ^ Hayashi, Meshi, p. 316. 1 1 Adachl/tp. 228. 12 Hayashi, Meshi, p. 288. 13 Hayashi, Meshi, p. 302. 14 Hayashi, Meshi, p. 316. 15 Hayashi, Meshi,.p. 300. 1 6 Hayashi, Meshi, pp. 274-275. The l i n e s ^ i n : quotation marks are from Sonezaki shinju l]f i-t^^^l ^ (The Love Suicides at Sonezaki, 1703) by Chikamatsu, trans, by Donald Keene, i n Four Major Plays of Chikamatsu (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), p. 51. Sonezaki shinju and Shinju  Ten no Amijima, written i n 1721, are ^0v'^£/;the>jbe:€tea£.\]<»sown-of Chikamatsu's domestic plays. ^ Hayashi, Meshi, p. 406. 260 BIBLIOGRAPHY Adachi Ken'ichi, ed. & "~ .' Gendai hihon bungaku J| ^ fl4~jtlT M A > arubamu 13: Hayashi Fumiko. Tokyo: Gakushu Kenkyusha 'If ^  Jtf $L%*- , 1974. Bester, John, trans. "Late Chrysanthemum." By Hayashi Fumiko. In Modern Japanese Short Stories. Ed. Japan Quarterly Editorial Board. Tokyo: Japan Publications Trading Co., 1960. Birnbaum, Ph y l l i s , ed. and trans. Rabbits, Crabs, Etc.: Stories by Japanese Women. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1982. Bly, Robert, trans. Hunger. By Knut Hamsun. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1967. Brazell, Karen, trans. The Confessions of Lady Nijo. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1973. Fukuda Kiyoto and Endo Mitsuhikoc jfa & **f ^  ' '& M-t* k- Hayashi Fumiko: hi to to sakuhin. ^  K. X f : K t <f: aa Tokyo: Shimizu Shoin >^«K*frX# 1966. Hayashi Fumiko. ti K t \ . Hayashi Fumiko zenshu. Vols. 1-16. Tokyo: Bunsendo £ & i f , 1977. Hibbett, Howard S. "The Portrait of the Artist in Japanese Fiction." Far Eastern Quarterly, 14 (1955) , 347^-354. Hirabayashi Taiko. ^ ti ^ " k I . Hayashi Fumiko. ti K X T Tokyo: Shinchosha $rr ifyi-X , 1969. 261 Imagawa Eiko. 4s ''| *A \ . "Nenpu." i d ^ In Hayashi Fumiko zenshu, Vol. 16. Tokyo; Bunsendo, 1977, pp. 285-310. Itagaki Naoko.*£. i 11| \ . "Hayashi Fumiko" K £ $• Kokubungaku kaishaku to kanshb (March 1972), 101-104. , ed. Hayashi Fumiko:. Gendai ho esupuri ii t i} 14^ *9 XX7°i| . Tokyo: Shibundo % k'f , 1965. : Hayashi Fumiko no shogai: uzushio no j i n s e i . iil^ilrV t'&~7f>toAXL. Tokyo: Daiwa ShobS Ki^'iA , 1965. Kaneko Hisakazu, trans. "Homecoming." By Hayashi Fumiko. Orient West, 8, No. 1 (May-June 1963), p. 48. Kawai Michiko. % •£ *g £ . "Hayashi Fumiko — onna no seikatsu no ba ni tsuite." ii *?{ \ - *<* i °> u ° X In Joryu bungei kenkyu -it *L % ^f"f . Ed. Umawatari Kenzoro >&. & 5- ?f . Tokyo: Nansosha $ , 1973, pp. 209-218. Kawamori Yoshizo. . "Hayashi Fumiko-san no koto." # £JU ^ ^ * . Tembo 4c fJ , No. 8 (1951), p.45. Kawazoe Kunimoto. *'[ J1] ill . "Hayashi Fumiko 'Bangiku* ni tsuite." H *K %. \ r f l^ **-?>.-T Kokubungaku kaishaku  to kansho l l j ^ ' f /Sjf -If t f £ 'jf (September 1951), 115^119. Keene, Donald, trans. "Bashd's Journey to Sarashina." Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan, Third 262 Series, V (December 1957), 56-83, , trans. Four Major Plays of Chikamatsu. New York: Columbia University Press, 1961. "The Revival of Writing by Women." In his Dawn to the West: Japanese Literature of the Modern Era: Fiction. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1984, pp. 1113-1166. Kitani Kimie. k&^JbtL . ''Hayashi Fumiko;" ^ £ 3 * In Nihon gendai bungaku kenkyu hijifcei. $ i\' '*f &<] ^  Ed. Miyoshi Yukio J~-k%i\&\i. . Tokyo: Ggkutbsha 't^tfe ' 1 9 8 3' PP- 176-177. Koitabashi Yoshiyuki, trans. Floating Cloud. By Hayashi Fumiko. Tokyo: The Information Publishing Co., 1957. Kokusai Bunka Shinkokai, ed. and pub., "Horoki (A Roving Record);" In Introduction to Contemporary Japanese Literature 1902-1935. Tokyo, 1939, pp. 192-197. Komiya Toyotaka, ed. /)*'»!> 4^  . Basho zenshu. Vol. 6. Tokyo: Kadokawa Shoten jt| >'| /& , 1962. Kono Ichiro and Fukuda Kikutaro, ed. and trans. "Song in despair." By Hayashi Fumiko. In An Anthology of Modern Japanese Poetry. Tokyo: Kenkyusha, 1957, p. 23. Kumasaka Atsuko. "Hayashi Fumiko." Kokubungaku kaishaku to kansho li) iL'f ^ I (July 1975) , 80-81. 263 Kusabe Kazuko. ^' »| ^  t . "Miyamoto Yuriko, Hayashi Fumiko no buntai." t £ 'i - 'H £. 4 \ °> Kfy Kokubungaku ( U i ^ f , No. 5 (I960), 66-70. Lippit, Noriko Mizuta and Kyoko Iriye Selden, ed. and trans. "Narcissus." By Hayashi Fumiko. Ifl Stories by Contemporary Japanese Women Writers. Armonk, N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe, 1982. Matsubara Shin'ichi. fa/}. | f - • "l^effet^gosei," % t t-tH In Gendai no joryu bungaku °> -it '^ u^ L'^  . Ed. Joryu bungaku shakai . Tokyo: Mainichi Shimbunsha fc) £'f ti\ i± , 1974, pp. 317-326. Maude, Louise, trans. Resurrection. By Leo Tolstoi. Vol. 1 and 2. New York: Scribner's, 1910. Mayumi Ichio. — . Hayashi rumiko. In Hayashi Fumiko: Gendai no esppnri. Ed. Itagaki Naoko. Tokyo: Shibundo, 1965. Meletinsky, Eleazar M. "Marriage: Its Function and Position in the Structure of Folktales." In Soviet Structural  Folkloristies. Ed. P. Maranda. The Hague: Mouton, 1974, pp. 61-72. Miner, E a r l , trans. Japanese Poetic Diaries. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1969. Mitchell, Richard H. Thought Control In Prewar Japan. Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1976. Morris, Ivan, trans. "Tokyo." By Hayashi Fumiko. In Modern 264 Japanese Literature. Ed, Donald Keene. New York: Grove Press, 1956, pp. 415-428. Muramatsu Sadataka. iii'^/L^ . "Hayashi Fumiko." ii1. i. \ In Nihon joryu bungaku shi tj if^k L </f i . . Vol. 2. Ed. Yoshida Seiichi % <S . Tokyo: Dobun Shoin lAu , 1969, pp. 291-321. Nakajima Kenzo. . "Ningen, Hayashi Fumiko." A |V] O- X%. \ • I n Hayashi Fumiko: Gendai no esupuri. Ed. Itagaki Naoko. Tokyo: Shibundo, 1965, pp. 62-73. Nakamura Mitsuo. ^ t\ *L K • "Hayashi Fumiko ron." O-H } S$f In Gendai nihon bungaku zenshu Vol. 45. Tokyo: Chikuma Shobo j £ j\ , 1954, pp. 405-410. Okubo Norio. "Sengo bungakushi no naka no joryu bungaku — Hayashi Fumiko Ukigumo no i c h i . " ^ i\ it 'f 9 4 ti* <9-k$\.i.1t - tttt I '/"'ffj^tf 2 Kokubungaku kaishaku to kansho 11) ^ <»K ^ | f (March 1972), 47-52. Ozaki Ichio. - . Mogura yokocho t (*) ^ T • In Hayashi Fumiko: Gendai ho esupuri. Ed. Itagaki Naoko. Tokyo: Shibundo, 1965, pp. 146-174. Powell, Irena. Writers and Society in Japan. London: The MacMillan Press, 1983. Rexroth, Kenneth and Ikuko Atsumi, ed. and trans. "The Lord Buddha." By Hayashi Fumiko. In The Burning Heart. New York: Seabury Press, 1977, p. 89. 265 Richards, D.J. "Russian Views of Pushkin." In Eugene Onegin. Trans. Walter Arndt. New York: E.P. Dutton, 1963, pp. x x i i i - x x x v i i . Sebeok, T.A., trans. Morphology of the Folktale. By Vladimir I. Propp. 1928; 2nd ed. 1958; rpt. Austin: University of Texas Press, 1968. Shea, G.T. Leftwing Literature- jn Japan: A Brief History of the Proletarian Literary Movement. Tokyo: Hosei University Press, 1964. Shioya Sakae, trans. "Splendid Carrion." By Hayashi Fumiko. Western Humanities Review (Summer 1952), 219-228. Takaya, Ted, trans. "Bones." By Hayashi Fumiko. In The Shadow of Sunrise. Comp. Shoichi Saeki. Tokyo: Kodansha, 1966, pp. 133-154. Tanaka,>Yukiko and Elizabeth Hanson, ed. and trans. This Kind of Woman: Ten Stories by Japanese Women Writers, 1960-1976. Stanford,California: Stanford University Press, 1982. i tsuite." ttiUlr L- -> i > X . In Hayashi Fumiko: Gendai no esupuri. Ed. Itagaki Naoko. Tokyo';" Shibundo, 1965. pp. 52-61. pp. 501-510. 266 "Kaisetsu." I^f ^  In Hayashi Fumiko shu: Shincho nihon bungaku 22 ^ IrQ.M'M %k  zz . Tokyo: Shinchosha l ^ i l ^ / i , 1973, pp. 522-533. Waddell, Helen, trans. The Story of Manon Lescaut and the Chevalier des Grieux. By Abbe Prevost d'Exiles. New York: Heritage Press, 1935. Yamamoto Kenkichi. ik $'{$La . "Hayashi Fumiko." M t % In Hayashi Fumiko: Gendai no esupuri. Ed. Itagaki Naoko. Tokyo: Shibundo, 1965. Yoshida Se i i c h i . $ $ ^ - . "Kindai joryu no bungaku." \^_K\--k:jfy\.9> Kokubungaku kaishaku to kansho il] ^L'T (March 1972), pp. 10-17. 


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