Evime, yuvama, Japon edebiyatına dönüyorum. Kısa bir ara vermek için edebiyatın en nezaket sahibi, en incelikli seslerinden birine uğruyorum: Sayın Yasunari Kavabata'ya...

Elbette ben 'Go Ustası'nı, Türkçede ilk kez basılan 1992 tarihli Remzi Kitap baskısından okumuştum. Fakat o ikinci dilden çeviriydi ve o dönemki birçok Japonca eser gibi kötü çeviri kurbanıydı. O yüzden Can Yayınları Kavabata külliyatını yayımlamaya başladığından beri orijinal dilinden çevrilen kitapları heyecanla bekliyordum, kavuşmuştuk ve bir süredir bakışıyorduk, nihayet okuyabildim.

Kavabata'nın 1968 Nobel Edebiyat Ödülü'nü alması Batı'nın gözlerinin ada ülkesine dönmesini sağladı. Nobel'e dair, Mişima'nın adının anıldığı fiskoslardan Kavabata'nın çıkması hala devam eden bazı spekülasyonların önünü açsa da komite ödülü "Japon zihninin özünü büyük duyarlılıkla ifade eden anlatı ustalığı için" gibi bir cümleyle Kavabata'ya takdim etti. Mişima'nın coşkun, fanatik, tutkulu, kavgalı sesine karşı; Kavabata'nın sessiz, içedönük, imgesel, zen ahengindeki sesini ödüllendirmeyi seçti. Böylelikle bir yandan da dünyanın Japon edebiyatına bakışına dair önemli bir yön verildi. Bu meseleler bitmez, o yüzden gelelim 'Go Ustası'na!

'Go Ustası' Kavabata'nın görece daha az bilinen bir eseri aslında. Zira ilk dönemde Batılı dillere ilk çevrilen kitapları 'İzu Dansözü', 'Karlar Ülkesi', 'Kiraz Çiçekleri' ve 'Bin Beyaz Turna' isimli kitapları olmuştu. Bunun temel sebebi, bu eserin son derece zor idrak edilecek bir meseleyi, Batılı bakışın kavramlara asla yaklaşamayacağı bir Japonlukla ele alıyor olması.

Kitap 1938 senesinde oynanan ve altı ay süren bir go turnuvasına odaklanıyor. Bu aslında yarı kurmaca bir eser, zira böyle bir maç gerçekten de yapılıyor tarihte. Usta Honinbo Shusai ile Otake isimli görece daha düşük seviyedeki bir oyuncunun tarihe kazınan maçına odaklanan Kavabata, bu maç nezdinde kendi gerçek gözlemlerine başvurduğu ölçüde, olayla ilgili kişisel görüşlerine de anlatı içerisinde yer veriyor. Bazı ayrıntıları kendince değiştiyor. Otake isimli oyuncunun gerçekte Minoru Kitani olması, do hamle sayılarının ve mekanlarının romandakinden farklı olması gibi. Elbette romanda Kavabata bir oyun tanıklıklığından fazlasını yapıyor. Zira yaşlı ve ölümün kıyısındaki Usta ile genç ve hırslı Otake'nin projeksiyonunda bir dualiteler karmaşası ortaya koyuyor. Tıpkı go oyununun doğasında olduğu gibi, siyah-beyaz, yaşlı-genç, geleneksel-modern, tarihsel-güncel olanın çatışmasını gösteriyor. Tanizaki'nin eserlerindeki modernleşme yozlaşması ya da Soseki'nin romanlarındaki sancılı dönüşümün fonda izlenmesi gibi açık ve renkli bir şekilde resmetmiyor Kavata; çok daha örtük ve küçük nüanslar üzerinden aktarmayı tercih ediyor. Zira onun insan kazısında Proustvari bir ayrıntıcılık var. İnsanın dürtülerine ve toplum tarafından belirlenen, sadece içinde yaşadığımız anın tarihselliğinde anlamlandırabileceğimiz motifleri işleyerek edebiyatını icra ediyor. Bu yüzden bize daha çok karakterlerin iç dünyasını göstermeyi tercih ediyor. Yargılmadan, ahlaksal bir çıkarım yapmadan yapıyor bunu da. Kavabata'nın eseri yazdığı yıllarda Japonya'nın içinde bulunduğu durum da son derece önemli. Zira ülkenin tarihini değiştirecek savaşın izlerini romanda direkt göremesek de, Usta'nın adım adım yürüdüğü epik kaybedişini tarihsel bir okuma olarak da ele almak mümkün. Diğer yandan go oyunu aracılığıyla Japon toplumunun benzersiz düşünme şekli ve yaklaşımı okuyanlara aktarılıyor.

Japon edebiyatı denilince akla ilk gelen isimlerden biri olan Kavabata, hayatıyla da son derece ilginç bir portre çizmeyi başarıyor. Gizemlerle dolu bir hayatı oluyor. Kavabata gibi kendi hayatlarına son veren Mişima, Dazai, Akutagava'da olduğu üzere. Diğerlerinin eserlerinde hazin sonları çok parlak şekilde okunabilecek, ipuçlarının izi sürülebilecekken Kavabata'nın edebiyatı buna geçit vermiyor. Yazınında hayatını sonlandırmasına dair bağıran doneler bulmak mümkün değil. Bu da benim her zaman ilgimi çeken başka bir özelliği olmuştur.

Çevirmen Habibe Salğar ismi ile ilk kez karşılaştım. Çevirmen kendini Japonca alanına vermiş bir akademisyen ve ben eski baskı ile karşılaştırmalı baktığımda çevirinin altından çok güzel kalktığını düşünüyorum. Umarım devamı gelir.

Can Yayınları'na bir kalp bırakmayı ihmal edemiyorum:)

The first 60% was really tough for me. I struggled through the description of the game of Go (a Chinese "chess-like" game that originated 4,000 years ago), yet it was a necessary introduction to the upcoming break.

I have the feeling that the book is multi-layered. On the one hand, it is literal - describing an interesting game and a great match. On the other hand, it shows the passage of time, the generational hierarchy in Japan, and the adherence to rules.

As always, I am crazy about appreciating each new brick of knowledge that allows me to better understand this culture:

- Go is more than a game, it is a philosophy. Some claim that one can observe similarities between the situations on the board and events in the real world. There is a book describing the Maoist revolution in the language of Go theory. There are many legends associated with Go that have arisen due to the persistent and hard-to-explain feeling that it is a game from another world.

- Once, the chess master Emmanuel Lasker stated that if chess is a royal game, then Go is undoubtedly an imperial game.

- It originated in China about 4,000 years ago and was considered an aristocratic pastime on a par with calligraphy, poetry, and playing the lute. The great masters of the game were respected on a par with war heroes.

- This belief in the aristocratic nature of the game still remains today. The specific etiquette associated with Go is at least as picturesque as the tea ceremony. The way of showing respect to the opponent before and after the game, the way of placing the stones on the board, and finally, the requisites needed for the game, made of precious materials, testify to the importance attached to Go.

- In the middle of the 1970s, the first Polish Go club was established at the Faculty of Mathematics of the University of Warsaw. It is an expression of the magnetism that the game has and attracts primarily representatives of the exact sciences, music, and art.

With no such intention in mind, I rather fell out of the frying pan on this one. I had to get away from Yourcenar, and a glance at the shelves made me think nothing could be further from Hadrian than a book about Go. It was as if fate had intervened, leading me to this unexpected choice.

My very first Go move, and it’s a mistake. How could I have known? I was new to this game, and yet, here I was, making a misstep right from the start. But perhaps that’s part of the learning process.

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This is a Japanese piece in its full formalist extent. I really like to imagine it as the idea I have of it:

A clean, minimalist room, about ten tatami in size, with meticulous but not overly abundant details, typical but colorful and barely visible decorations, and with the freshness of silence and order.

The simplicity and elegance of this room are truly captivating. The tatami flooring gives a sense of warmth and naturalness. The few carefully placed details, such as a simple vase with a single flower or a small calligraphy piece on the wall, add a touch of refinement.

The colors used in the room are soft and muted, creating a calm and soothing atmosphere. The lack of clutter and the strict orderliness contribute to the overall sense of tranquility.

It is a space that invites one to relax, unwind, and enjoy the beauty of simplicity. It makes me long to step into this room and experience its unique charm for myself.

Overall, this Japanese piece embodies the essence of formalism in a most beautiful and inspiring way.

A thrilling release of a legendary go match, where the grandmaster succumbs to defeat due to illness and the prototype young talent opens up his dirtiest bag of tricks. Kawabata paces it perfectly, builds the tension, and delves deep into the souls of the players, all in his typical restrained style. With illustrations of the course of the long campaign, for those who wish to replay it. Entertainment for board game amateurs and Japanophiles. Wonderful.

PS: Are there any go players on Goodreads? I would love to take up the game again and nowadays there are quite a few online platforms. Just a wild guess.

"Meijin" has surprised me on so many levels that I'm a bit annoyed with myself for not having read it earlier. But perhaps now was simply the right time for this book.

At the center of the story is the last game of the Go master Honinbo Shusai. He, being terminally ill, plays against the up-and-coming Otake. The game stretched over a total of six months and not only provides an insight into the changing world of Go - but also offers a look at the transformation of Japanese society.

One question that I asked myself right at the beginning - how much does one have to understand about Go in order to really enjoy the book. The answer is rather simple: An understanding of the game allows for a different approach to the story and the characters. However, if not so much knowledge is already present, the very educational appendix helps further. In my opinion, one is well taken care of even without great prior knowledge. The game is also recreated with illustrations in the appendix, making it even easier to follow the rather complicated moves.

One aspect that was more in the foreground for me is the changing Japanese society. On the one hand, the change is symbolically represented by the Go game, on the other hand, side scenes provide an insight into how much society is changing. I myself have lived in Japan for some time and have so far read very few books that have dealt with this. The melancholy and the upheaval are very clear here and I find this a very fascinating theme of Japanese literature.

The translation was very successful. The Japanese language has its own peculiarities that make it difficult to translate really word for word. And quite often the unique melody of the language is lost. In this book, I felt very well taken care of in this regard.

In conclusion, "Meijin" is a fascinating testament to a past time and perhaps also gaming culture. I can only recommend it to Go enthusiasts. And fans of Japanese history and culture will find the opportunity here to take a look at Japan at the beginning of the 20th century.

A free copy was provided to me by the publisher in exchange for an honest opinion.

I read this and Stefan Zweig's Chess Story back-to-back, and I was truly delighted that I made this choice.

Both of these works deal with the psychological impacts of being completely obsessed with complex board games. They explore a central character whose life has been completely consumed by such an intense fixation.

Although Chess Story takes a fictional approach, while Kawabata's book is based on a real person, there are numerous parallels between the two works. Each one highlights certain aspects of the other that otherwise I might have overlooked.

Individually, both books are perhaps only worthy of three stars. However, the resonance that is created by reading them one after the other has magnified my enjoyment to such an extent that I am awarding both of them four stars. This combination of reading has provided me with a deeper and more profound understanding and appreciation of the themes and ideas presented in both works.

Japanese literature remains unrivaled when it comes to evoking the best vibes.

This novel centers around a match of the East Asian game "go", which is somewhat akin to chess. To be more precise, it focuses on a monumentally significant game for the go world - between the master of the game, simply referred to as Master throughout the story, and an up-and-coming player named Otake. The Master is old, and this is his final go game. The narrator, a reporter, describes the months-long match between these two players as the go world watches intently.

The story follows the match and its aftermath, but not in a chronological order. In fact, we learn fairly early on in the story that the Master passes away not long after the match. The events skip around in a way that isn't overly confusing, although there were moments in the middle where I truly questioned if the sequence needed to be so disjointed. At times, it feels as if all the chapters were written separately, placed on slips of paper, and randomly selected from a hat to determine their order. In the middle, it can feel a bit aimless, but it did indeed pick up significantly in the last third or so for me.

Thematically, there is a great deal to unpack here. On the surface, it's an epic battle of wills, yet it is portrayed with the grace and tranquility that one (or at least I) would anticipate from Japanese literature. However, it's also about much more, including the transition from one era to the next in Japan. The Master rose during the Meiji Era, which endured from 1868 - 1912, a time when Japan transformed from an isolated, traditional country to one racing towards "modernity" (a rather loaded term, but that's a historian's rant for another day). The game takes place in the late 1930s, after the conclusion of the Meiji Era, as Japan is undergoing "modernization". The story contemplates how the Master represents a midway point between tradition and modernity, the dignity of Japanese culture, and the precise rationality of the present.

It was fascinating to read this immediately after Kokoro. While both books possess some universal elements and some elements more specific to their time in early modern Japanese history, this work definitely feels more particular to Japan, whereas Kokoro seems more universal.

Anyway, this was a good read. Similar to Kokoro, it can be slow at times, but it gains momentum towards the end. The vibes are always excellent - Japanese literature always manages to make things feel pleasant and tranquil, even during difficult moments - which makes it an enjoyable read even during the slower sections. It is most definitely worth checking out!

This statement implies that after reading something during a flight, it will surely be necessary to go back and review it. It could potentially serve as a palate cleanser, perhaps refreshing the mind and preparing it for further exploration or understanding.

It might also offer more than just a simple reset. Maybe it contains valuable insights or ideas that require a second look to fully appreciate and internalize.

The act of revisiting could lead to a deeper connection with the text, uncovering nuances that were initially overlooked. It could enhance the overall reading experience and provide a more comprehensive understanding of the subject matter.

Whether it's a novel, an article, or any other piece of written work, the possibility of finding something new and meaningful upon revisiting makes it a worthwhile endeavor.

Absolutely gorgeous. It's an incredibly great feeling to know that you are reading a masterpiece within the first 10 pages.

From below the thicket of dwarf bamboo, along the main road, there came a sound of water flowing down a narrow ditch.

Nothing more than that - and yet the retreating figure of the Master somehow managed to bring tears welling up in my eyes. I was profoundly moved, for reasons that I myself do not fully understand. In that figure walking absentmindedly away from the game, there was the still and profound sadness of another world.

The Master seemed like a precious relic left behind by the Meiji era, carrying with him the weight and essence of a bygone time. His presence and actions evoked a sense of nostalgia and a connection to a history that was both beautiful and perhaps a little bit tragic.

As I continued to read, I couldn't help but be drawn deeper into the story, captivated by the vivid descriptions and the emotions that were so delicately and powerfully portrayed.

Kawabata has transformed a game of Go, a game with more board configurations than the number of atoms in the known universe, into a captivating story. It pits traditional pre-WWII Japan against post-defeat modernized Japan.

You don't have to have a full understanding of Go (I surely don't) to be drawn into the intense tension of the game within this story or to experience a profound sadness at its outcome.

Based on an actual game of Go that Kawabata reported on, this fictionalized rendition begins and ends in the same place. Thus, the suspense lies in the slow and steady unveiling of this game, which took months to play. An elderly Go Master engages in his last game against Otake, a man half his age with a very different manner and approach. Even physically, they are strikingly different. The Master is tiny, with emaciated legs and a wide jaw, while Otake is plump with a round face. In observing the two players, “one could see in the divergence a spiritual incompatibility.” Where the Master “put the match together as a work of art” that “has in it a flow of the spirit and a harmony as of music,” Otake treats the game in a much more strategic way.

The game takes a physical toll on both men, who suffer from various ailments, and it also stresses out their wives and supporters. The childless Master has been able to dedicate most of his existence to Go and other games, while Otake, who has children, has other responsibilities. It also prompts observers to rethink the game itself. Uragami, Kawabata's fictionalized version of himself, wonders, “Had Go, like the No drama and the tea ceremony, sunk deeper and deeper into the recess of a strange Japanese tradition?” Later on, when tensions rise and the outcome becomes clear, he realizes that Go is changing, becoming infused with a “new vitality” and that to try to stop this would be to “interrupt the flow of history.”

Already an admirer of Kawabata's other work, this piece was quite different from what I've read, yet no less nuanced and elegant. It is a testament to his skill that even with play-by-plays of a game I don't understand, Kawabata creates a ceremonial atmosphere and a sense of beauty, of fascination, and inevitable sadness.

People who take (go) wins and losses as their profession are more enthusiastic about other related hobbies of winning and losing. However, the attitude of a celebrity is different from others. That is, he attaches great importance to wins and losses. Therefore, no matter what kind of winning and losing he is addicted to, he will deal with it with a serious attitude and without any mentality of playing games. Moreover, the patience of a celebrity is particularly tough. Once he starts playing, he will never stop. Unless the outcome is clear, he is a person who devotes himself wholeheartedly day and night. He plays this kind of winning and losing activity not to pass the time, but his whole body is sucked into the game. Whether it is playing mahjong or billiards, his attitude is as if he is playing a game of go, completely entering the selfless samadhi state.

I remember that on the plane from San Francisco back to Taiwan, during the nearly 11-hour flight, I was专心 playing games, level after level. Was that also the selfless samadhi state?

But since then, I dare not play games casually. Even earlier, in the big mansions of Kangxi, Yongzheng, and Qianlong and the Qiao Family Courtyard, I was also immersed in historical dramas day and night. After the end of the drama, I dare not chase dramas anymore.

Is this related to the training my parents gave me when I was a child? The calligraphy class that lasted for 5 hours every Saturday? For a period of time, I practiced the piano for 4 hours every day.

Now I only dare to use it for reading, but it is very difficult to enter the samadhi state when reading!!!!

This is a book that is very much worth reading again. No matter which chapter you flip through at will, there are attractive philosophies.

The reputation of the "undefeated celebrity", how to behave when the mind is turning. People's idolization and hero worship of the winner, and the historical inheritance of the retirement game...

Thank you Wenling for the recommendation.