Why this book: Selected by my literature reading group, based on recommendation from my son, and our general appreciation for Ishiguro’s Remains of the Day.

Summary in 3 sentences: Set in post-WWII Japan, a Japanese artist Musaji Ono is living in retirement as a widowed grandfather, enjoying being with his daughters, family, friends and colleagues.  He is looking back on his life and assessing how decisions he made while younger, during the aggressive and turbulent pre-war years in Japan have  impacted his family after the war is over and during allied occupation.  One of his daughters intends to be married, and in the Japan of that time, arranged marriages were preceded by investigations of the families of the betrothed before the parents would agree, and Mr Ono is concerned about whether his associations prior to and during the war might undermine his daughter’s chance for marriage.

My Impressions: Interesting book – which I enjoyed reading.  It’s a first person narrative of Masuji Ono – or “Ono-san” – about his life and the awkward implications his career had on his family.  But within his narrative, this book is about personal and social values, Japanese culture, moral courage, the nature of friendship, patronage and mentorship, parenting, teaching, and more.  We see the entire story through Ono-san’s eyes, as if he were relating it to a Japanese journalist.  The points Ishiguro makes are embedded subtly within his narrative.

In Ono-san’s story, as he looks back on his life, we learn much about Japan during a key period of cultural transition, and we learn about the rigid structure of education and career success in a very structured social world.  Those who have read Ishiguro’s Remains of the Day, will recognized the style and structure of this book, but the themes are different.

Ono-san tells us of growing up as a talented and aspiring young artist who takes all the traditionally accepted steps toward achieving recognition and success in his field. But then, when he is on the verge of achieving the success he had been striving for,  he rebels against the strict rules for getting ahead.  He chooses to not obediently follow his master’s path, and in straying beyond the bounds of what his master expected, he was expelled from his master’s school.   He chose to not simply follow accepted formulae for aesthetically pleasing but uncontroversial art, but instead to create art that made a statement that challenged traditional values of Japanese society at the time.  It turned out that his rebellion was in harmony with the message of the rising military class that was advocating a stronger more aggressive Japan on the world stage, and he became an accepted and prestigious member of the class that led the nation to its disastrous war.

Ono-san’s rebellion against traditional Japanese aesthetics and his association with the imperial elite eventually alienated him from most of his former friends, mentors and even students.  At the end of the war, those who had been associated with the imperial military elite were ostracized, and those who hadn’t sided with them were given moral credit for not having embraced the imperialist mood of the time. In retirement,  Ono-san was isolated from his former community.   This was not a matter of any great concern to him, until his reputation as a lackey of those who had taken the country to tragic defeat threatened to undermine his daughter’s chance for marriage.  At which point he felt he had to atone for the consequences of his actions to best serve his daughter’s interests.

Ishiguro’s  Ono-san is a complex character. We are not sure to what degree he is deceiving himself – and to what degree he is indeed a hero who simply took a courageous stand for the wrong cause.  He later admits openly that his service to the imperialist Japanese government was a mistake, but it is unclear whether this admission is truly heart felt, or merely expedient. And when he casually mentions that he served with the Committee of Unpatriotic Activities I can’t help but wonder if indeed there may be some hypocrisy here.  I wonder if  as a government authority, he may have actively repressed freedom of expression and art in others that he took such pride in during his own development.   An Artist of the Floating World is a character study of a complex man living in difficult times and it isn’t clear how much he isn’t telling us, how much self-deception is taking place, and to what degree his pride and self-satisfaction are indeed justified.

“The Floating World” is a term he used to describe  the world of the pleasure district of Japanese cities – the world of frivolity, drinking, geishas, and entertainment – the world from which he eventually rebelled.  His sensei Mori-san had his students painting almost exclusively scenes for that world, scenes that were aesthetically pleasing but very uncontroversial and had little to no social impact.   When Ono-san told Mori-san that he didn’t want to be “an artist of the floating world” and chose instead to paint for greater social impact and to address issues of morality and virtue in the world at large, Mori-san forced Ono-san to leave his school.  Afterward, Ono-san apparently was welcomed and embraced by those leading a movement for social and political change – the movement that eventually led to Japanese imperialism – and his position of influence and celebrity apparently lasted until Japan lost the war.

It was indeed courageous for Ono-san to step out of the tried and true path to success for a talented artist.  But what compromises did he have to make to succeed in that other world?  What price did his integrity pay for his eventual success? We don’t know, for he doesn’t share any concerns about that with us.  There was room for An Artist of  the Floating World to be a  longer book, and for us to have gotten to know more about Musaji Ono.

In the end, it is unclear to what degree he is being completely honest with himself in his descriptions of himself as courageous and free thinking, and to what degree he deserves his rather smug self-satisfaction.  As it was, An Artist of the Floating World is another fascinating and indeed subtly thought-provoking character study by Kazuo Ishiguro.

Some quotes that caught my interest. Page numbers refer to the Vintage paperback edition published in 1989:

Retirement places more time on your hands. Indeed, it is one of the enjoyments of retirement that you are able to drift through the day at your own pace, easy in the knowledge that you have put hard work and achievement behind you. Nevertheless, I must be getting absent-minded indeed to be wandering aimlessly into – of all places – the reception room.  p40-41

(from his son in law) ‘Brave young men die for stupid causes, and the real culprits are still with us.  Afraid to show themselves for what they are, to admit their responsibility… to my mind, that ’s the greatest cowardice of all.’ p 58

So I do not think I am claiming undue credit for my younger self if I suggest my actions that day were a manifestation of a quality I came to be much respected for in later years – the ability to think and judge for myself, even if it meant going against the sway of those around me.  The fact remains, certainly, that I was the only one to come to the Tortoise’s defense that morning.  p 69

‘In my opinion,’ I said, ‘Master Takeda doesn’t deserve the loyalty of the likes of you and me. Loyalty has to be earned. There’s too much made of loyalty.  All too often men talk of loyalty and follow blindly.  I for one have no wish to lead my life like that.’ p72

(recalling speaking to his students) ‘Being at Takeda’ I told them, ‘taught me an important lesson early in my life. That while it was right to look up to teachers, it was always important to question their authority. The Takeda experience taught me never to follow the crowd blindly, but to consider carefully the direction in which I was being pushed.  And if there’s one thing I’ve tried to encourage you all to do, it’s been to rise above the sway of things. To rise above the undesirable and decadent influences that have swamped us and have done so much to weaken the fibre of our nation theses past ten, fifteen years.’ p 73

If one has failed only where others have not had the courage or will to try, there is a consolation – indeed, a deep satisfaction – to be gained from this observation when looking back over one’s life.  p 134

For it is by no means desirable that one be always instructing and pronouncing to one’s pupils; there are many situations when it is preferable to remain silent so as to allow them the chance to debate and ponder. As I say, anyone who has been in a position of large influence will appreciate this.  p 139

You may gather from such recollections that our devotion to our teacher and to his principles was fierce and total.  And it is easy with hindsight – once the shortcomings of an influence have become obvious – to be critical of a teacher who fosters such a climate….His influence over us was not, of course, confined merely to the realms of painting. We lived throughout those years almost entirely in accordance with his values and lifestyle and this entailed spending much time exploring the city’s ‘floating world’  the night-time world of pleasure, entertainment and drink which formed the backdrop for all our paintings.  p 144-145

I suppose I do not on the whole greatly admire the Tortoises (“Tortoise” was a nickname of  one of his fellow painters) of this wold. While one may appreciate their plodding steadiness and ability to survive, one suspects their lack of frankness, their capacity for treachery.  And I suppose in the end, one despises their unwillingness to take chances in the name of ambition or for the sake of a principle they claim to believe in.  p 159

‘Tell me, Tortoise, don’t you have ambitions to one day produce paintings of genuine importance? I don’t mean simply work that we may admire and praise amongst ourselves here at the villa.  I refer to work of real importance. Work that will be a significant contribution to the people of our nation.  It’s to this end, Tortoise, I talk of the need for a new approach.’ p 163

But I am fully aware, of course, that “Eyes to the Horizon,” whatever its artistic merits, is a painting whose sentiments are now outdated.  Indeed, I would be the first to admit that those same sentiments are perhaps worthy of condemnation. I am not one of those who are afraid to admit to the shortcomings of past achievements.  p 169

(Ono-san’s word to his teacher Mori-san as he breaks away) ‘But I now feel it is time for me to progress to other things. Sensei, it is my belief that in such troubled times as these, artists must learn to value something more tangible than those pleasurable things that disappear with the morning light.  It is not necessary that artists always occupy a decadent and enclosed world.  My conscience, Sensei, tells me I cannot remain forever an artist of the floating world.’ p 180

‘I am Masuji Ono, the artist and member of the Cultural Committee of the Interior Department. Indeed, I am an official adviser to the Committee of Unpatriotic Activities. I believe there’s been some sort of mistake here and I would like to speak with whoever is in charge.’  – 182

For as he (Matsuda) pointed out himself, the likes of him and me, we have the satisfaction of knowing that whatever we did, we did at the time in the best of faith.          p 202

The likes of Tortoise – the likes of Shintaro – they may plod on, competent and inoffensive, but their kind will never know the sort of happiness I felt that day,. for their kind do not know what it is to risk everything in the endeavor to rise above the mediocre.  p 204  (Is this Ishiguro’s version of Teddy Roosevelt’s Man in the Arena speech?)