[Book] The Summer of Ubume / Ubume no Natsu / 姑獲鳥の夏
[This post is not a plot summary or general book review of The Summer of Ubume, a novel written by Kyōgoku Natsuhiko (京極夏彦), but spoiler discussion assuming prior knowledge of the book. The version I read is the Japanese bunko edition published by Kodansha. There is also a translated English version published recently by Vertical but I have never read it. If you are looking for spoiler-free information about the Hyakkiyagyō series (of which The Summer of Ubume is the first book), please do not proceed any further and refer to this post instead.]
Kyōgoku Natsuhiko’s novels are always full of “doubles” that have a strange echoing effect on each other. In The Summer of Ubume, these “doubles” come in pairs of the “surface” and the “hidden”.
Sekiguchi may appear to be the main character on the “surface” as he is the narrator and it is through his eyes that the story is told. But the “hidden” main character is really Chūzenji, whose recommendation to Makio of writing a love letter was the beginning of everything. It is also Chūzenji’s revelations at the end that resolved some (as I hesitate to say all) of the mysteries.
The younger Kuonji sister, Kyōko, may appear to be the main participant in this strange case. After all, she is the one who is pregnant for 20 months and whose husband has disappeared from a room locked from the inside – the two mysteries with which the first chapter of this book began. But it is really the elder Kuonji sister, Ryōko, who is the main participant all along.
Likewise, the ubume of this story may appear to be Ryōko on the “surface” for all the obvious reasons. But the “hidden” ubume is really Makio, in spite of his being male.
And along the same lines, on the “surface” Makio may be revealed to be Ryōko’s lost passionate first love twelve years ago, but to all observers except for Chūzenji and Enokidu, Ryōko’s lost first love may well be Sekiguchi.
The last point is debatable, but I will explain in greater detail below. As for the remaining “doubles” in the story:
Makio is attracted to Ryōko because she reminds him of his mother. Naitō is also attracted to Ryōko because she reminds him of his mother.
It is a fraud that Makio marries Kyōko without mentioning the loss of his reproductive organs during the war. It is a fraud that the Kuonji family marries Kyōko to him without mentioning the family’s genetic history.
At the beginning, a set of words that began as a blessing turned into a curse (ie. Makio’s dead mother’s last words to him). At the end, one word that was a curse turned into a blessing (ie. “kaa-san”).
This brings me to -
“Kaa-san” and the ending of The Summer of Ubume
There are many speculations about the scene of Ryōko’s death towards the end. I am curious as to how they translate “kaa-san” in that passage, because “kaa-san” in Japanese could be either be “mom” as in a form of address by a child to its mother, or “mom” as in a form of address by a husband to his wife who has borne him a child and that child is still living (I have never seen it used by childless couples or if the child had deceased.) In any case, these speculations may be grouped under two headings:
1) Sekiguchi as the “hidden” first love
When Ryōko spoke of “that night” she was referring to the first rendez-vous after she received Makio’s love letter twelve years ago. Sekiguchi, who delivered the letter on Makio’s behalf, did not make it clear that he was just the messenger, and Ryōko assumed that he was also the one who wrote the letter and expected him to come that night. It may be taken that she was attracted to Sekiguchi at first sight and therefore seduced him. Even twelve years later, she still wished that he instead of Makio (ie. あのひと or “that person”) had come to save her from the molester Kazuno (assuming that Kazuno really was a molester) and been the father of her child.
After Chuuzenji’s somewhat deceptive prompting, Sekiguchi called Ryōko “kaa-san” before she handed the baby she had stolen to him and fell to her death. Chūzenji may have understood that:
i) Anyone who calls Ryōko “kaa-san” would be perceived by her in her frenzy as her “child”.
ii) Once she hears the word “kaa-san”, she would transform into the “Kuonji mother” personality and follow the Kuonji tradition of bashing unwanted babies with a stone to death.
iii) The only exception is when the very “father” of her “child” calls her “kaa-san”.
iv) Ryōko would hand over the “child” only to its “father”.
v) In Ryōko’s mind, the biological father may have been Makio, but the “true” father had always been Sekiguichi, the one she actually loved at first sight.
From Ryōko’s perspective, Sekiguchi was the one whose appearance was the beginning of everything. It was when he handed her the letter that she was first given the name “Kyōko” and “consciousness” attached to that name. However, Sekiguchi never returned to her after their brief encounter. Ten years later, Ryōko awoke in the personality of “Kyōko” and recognized Makio moments before his death. Two years later, Ryōko again awoke in the personality of “Kyōko” and “kaa-san” as spoken by Sekiguchi is a like magic word because it signaled two things: i) they are man and wife; ii) their child had not died.
2) Sekiguchi’s “transformation” into Makio
The story is constructed in such a way that:
i) On the surface, Sekiguchi started off as an observer getting nosy about other people’s affairs without knowing that he is actually already a participant from the very beginning.
ii) In his hidden psyche, Sekiguchi is merging closer and closer with “Makio” as the story spins towards the end.
First, he went under the fake name “Seki” (ie. an identity other than himself) to Ryōko when they met at Enokidu’s office because Enokidu did not introduce him properly. Then he was mistaken by Kyōko to be Makio in her frenzy when he visited her room with Ryōko. Later on, while Chūzenji was narrating his conjecture of the events that happened during that fateful night when Makio was killed, Sekiguchi “entered” the consciousness of Makio in his vision of those events. By the time shortly before Ryōko’s fall to death, it may be interpreted that Ryōko mistook Sekiguchi in her frenzy as Makio himself. This is purely speculation – when she spoke of “that night”, it may refer to a night when they planned to elope after Makio’s failed proposal to her parents twelve years ago. She waited, but for some reason Makio never appeared. “That person” may refer to someone other than Makio with whom she borne another child. Not much can be known in that area, but Kazuno’s disappearance before the war, Kyouko’s unlikely face as a seductress and beast-like behaviour to Makio, plus the unsolved theft of one volume of Makio’s diary may be hints that what is revealed by Chūzenji at the end of the story is only a selective part of the complete picture.
In a way, Sekiguchi could have easily been in Makio’s shoes. Back when they were in high school, Sekiguchi wanted to be a doctor too (albeit a doctor in psychology, instead of medicine like Makio). I wonder what would have happened if Sekiguchi pretended to be the writer of the love letter twelve years ago? Makio’s life may well the life that could have been for Sekiguchi.
Youkai and lost happiness
There is never really any real youkai, ghost or anything supernatural in the novels of Kyōgoku Natsuhiko, although youkai, ghost or anything supernatural is often perceived to exist when:
i) One or more individuals view a set of facts in some twisted or forbidden way, through which the participants encounter some brief, fleeting, and taboo condition whereby they experience something like happiness, which had been lost to them. (I would like to particularly stress the “taboo” component at that. I am inclined to believe there is a predisposition in Japanese culture in general to project happiness in such “supernatural” and taboo encounters. The Noh theatre for one is also full of stories like that too – but this is another chapter in itself and I will save it for discussion in another post.)
ii) Times and people’s subjective values change. What was normal in the past became “youkai” or something strange and supernatural to those who live in “current” time. And what will become normal at some future time to the story (which was set in the 1950s) is also perceived to be “youkai” or something strange and supernatural to those who live in “current” time.
獣憑き [kemonotsuki]
Both the Kuonji sisters “transformed” into a beast-like condition at some point – Ryōko when her child delivery was threatened, and Kyōko when her marriage with Makio not consummated. Their submission to raw, beast-like instincts – or what is known as kemonotsuki in Japanese – reminds me of a true story I know.
It was told by my mother’s former supervisor at work many years ago. The supervisor was the mother of a very beautiful daughter who was university educated (which was rare at the time, as this was before university education became widely accessible in that location), and found a very well-paying job right after graduation. Apparently, the girl had always been just the normal, kind, intelligent and well-bred type of girl leading a normal life. No sooner had she entered society, she was ardently pursued by a very successful man in the industry she worked in. At first, the man really appeared to be like a prince from a fairytale – handsome, cultured, witty and well-educated with an advanced degree from a world-class elite university. She resisted him for some time but finally yielded. Even her parents were in awe that she had captured a good-catch like him.
But that was just the beginning of their nightmare. The girl soon realized that she was not the only girlfriend of his man. He had, in fact, many – some worshiped him like a god from afar and others were what he described as goods friends with sex benefits. He tried to placate her, indicating that none matched her in beauty, intelligence etc etc and she had no cause to be jealous as she would always be “the one”. What happened afterwards was not very clear to the girl’s parents, but following many long quarrels with the man, she became very dangerous and violent – as though she became possessed by a beast. The actual details of her violence I do not know, but at one point they had to bound her arms and legs to the bedpost.
Obviously she became unfit for work – and this was only one year after she left university. In any case, it was said that the man also destroyed her reputation in that line of work and she could no longer return to it. For several years afterwards, she stayed home and underwent some sort of psychiatric treatment. She tried to find other simple, manual work again but for some reason never managed to hold down any job for long. Once the mind had gone funny, it goes funny for life. It would be nice to think that healing is possible but from I know it seems that the least they could is to prevent her from things or people that may provoke her to relapse into an even worst condition. It is more like locking the bad seeds away in a drawer so that the bad seeds never have a chance to take root in the sort of soil that would make the bad seeds grow into something dangerous.
Years passed. The girl is now a half crazy middle-aged woman, with no job and no interaction with anyone other than her immediate family. The man is still carrying on the same way as ever with women. After all there is no law to say that you cannot act like that and in any case the man seems to take a perverse delight in being “immoral” (I know it’s a free world these days and I don’t want sound like a moralizing old fart either, but I really cannot think of any other word). This pose (not surprisingly) seems to attract more women to him than ever. He is still a very successful and respected man in that industry, although from the girl’s mother’s words, it seems that he had become somewhat vulgar in his taste in middle-age. Before, his girlfriends tended to be well-bred girls of quality – blank canvases to do doddle his work on. Now his girlfriends tend to come with not so blank canvases to begin with – ie. girls who with issues like low self-esteem, extreme self-hate, substance abuse or what-have-you.
So that was my mother’s favorite cautionary tale to young girls. As I was reading The Summer of Ubume, I could not help but be reminded of it.
On a side note, the Japanese concept of kemonotsuki also brings to my mind the concept of “going berserk” in Europe. The below information is quoted from Marie-Louise von Franz’s book The Feminine in Fairy Tales:
To “go berserk” was thought to be a gift in certain families. If a battle was taking place and the duke or the count sat at home, suddenly he would give a terrific yawn and then fall into a deathlike sleep, while on the battlefield there appeared a bear who killed who killed everybody. After a while, the bear disappeared; and the duke woke up and was very tired. He had “gone berserk” and in the form of an exteriorized soul, a bear’s soul, had fought the battle.
The curse of Kuonji, fate and individuality
Chūzenji explains his own concept of “curse” from time to time throughout the Hyakkiyagyō series. In brief, a curse is like a time bomb planted in an individual mind that compels the individual to do X when a certain set of conditions is met, and the individual may be conscious (vaguely or clearly or otherwise) that he is willed by someone or something other than himself to do X, or the individual may believe (mistakenly) that he is willed by none other than himself to do X.
It seems fair to say that throughout the Hyakkiyagyō novels, the persistent message is that at a time when western values of individuality washed over post-war Japan and people become more assertive of their individuality, this so-called “individuality” is actually quite malleable and fragile. You can never be sure that you know you are who you are (Sekiguchi, Ryōko). You may have a curse or time bomb planted in your head that compels you to do something willed by a force other than your conscious self (Makio, Kikuno). Your brain is only an organ by which your perceive and filter signals from the external world. In the vast stream of time and history, human beings are really more like puppets than they would like to believe.
The sad and beautiful
Having said all of the above, I would like to say that The Summer of Ubume is the saddest and most beautiful story out of the Hyakkiyagyō series. The impact on me was so great that I felt like an empty shell for two weeks afterwards. I would like to think that this is not just me being easily impressionable, and I have yet to come across a review of this book that does not emphasize its shattering power.
Who would have thought that a quiet, sickly girl like Ryōko who liked to read medieval literature and loved her family would come to such a tragic end? I am inclined to think that the moment Ryōko fell to death was also the happiest moment of her life…
Mouryou no Hako (魍魎の匣) is the next book in the series that I will blog about. In a way, I think the lyrics of the OP and ED of the anime adaptation of Mouryou no Hako fits in with The Summer of Ubume much better.
In the meantime, please don’t hesitate to drop me a note if you have anything to say or add. I am always happy to listen and discuss this book further.
I’m really really happy that you wrote this because I now feel like reading it again but this time with what you’ve discussed in mind. I know everything you’ve said is just your own impressions of the book but I really feel like you hit the mark. I think the english translation loses some of the Japanese aesthetics of the book. Especially the ‘Kaa-san’ and Sekiguchi using a fake name like ‘Seki’ – I don’t think this was translated, but I can’t remember I might be wrong. I’m quite surprised that they didn’t leave ‘Kaa-san’ and have some sort of explanation or something, they sort of kept everything else like ‘sensei’ and some other words. I wished that had some sort of index for the japanese terms used especially for supernatural terms that don’t really exist in the west – I think for those who aren’t familiar with japanese vocab it might have been…alienating.
‘Kaa-san’ was translated to ‘Mother’. I checked =D. Either way, I think that any translation from the original would not be the same as reading the original. I’m going to go and read it again now to absorb some more details because I can’t remember anything about it =P. It is a sad book, but the ending was fitting and it was the right and the happiest outcome for those involved. Living is often not the best. That’s what I love about Japanese culture, there is beauty in the macabre and everything can be appreciated in their own forms don’t you think? Death can be appreciated as death. Anyways, great blog post.
Oh, damn, now I have to read the book as soon as possible in order to discuss…
And that is good. :)
Anna:
Yes, please re-read and come back and let me what you think. It’s a pity that they did not explain anything about “kaa-san” and left the word as it is, since it is the keyword to the interpretation of the whole story. May be I should write a protest letter to the publisher or something. ^-^
While I am at it, I just want to add that when Makio was stabbed and Ryouko came to the scene, he said “kaa-sama” to her, which is “mother” used by a child to its mother in an upper-class family. “kaa-sama” is never used by a husband to his wife. I wish they had highlight this difference of usage in the translation (which they apparently didn’t). Sekiguchi is not of a upper-class family like Makio and therefore used “kaa-san” – but this “kaa-san” could mean either way as I have already explained in the post.
Ridiculus:
Please do read the book and come back to discuss with me what you think. ^-^
Yes, I will, that’s for sure, but unfortunately I live in Southeastern Europe, so I can’t just go into a bookstore and purchase the book. It will take some time before I get it (from Amazon). And I do not want to spoil the book for myself, so I haven’t read the post after the warning.
In the meantime, I have seen some reviews on the net (based on the English release, of course), and I wonder what is your opinion on the comments that Kyougoku is happier in communicating his ideas than in telling the story?
Ridiculus:
> Yes, I will, that’s for sure, but unfortunately I live in Southeastern Europe, so I can’t just go into a bookstore and purchase the book. It will take some time before I get it (from Amazon).
I kind of doubt that it is the sort of book they would stock in an ordinary chain bookstore even English-speaking countries.
> And I do not want to spoil the book for myself, so I haven’t read the post after the warning.
Good call that you had not read any spoilers!
> In the meantime, I have seen some reviews on the net (based on the English release, of course), and I wonder what is your opinion on the comments that Kyougoku is happier in communicating his ideas than in telling the story?
I have not read any reviews in English. I think an engagingly told story is one where the reader keeps asking “what happens next?” Two out of two people on this blog (Anna and myself) have already testified that it is impossible to put down “The Summer of Ubume”, so I guess one cannot say that Kyougoku falls short in storytelling.
As for communicating ideas – I am guessing the criticism is aimed at long dialogues in the book discussing abstract ideas. I can imagine the average novel reader not being used to it. A conventional novel shows the characters doing X, Y, Z, instead of showing the characters sitting in a room talking for nearly 80 pages. (The plays of George Bernard Shaw are also like that – the characters just talk and talk some more.) But personally, I am fine with it. I like characters who are eloquent and well-learned, and the conversations are all an integral part of the story.
A little late but great analysis… I read the English translation when it came out, but I guess a lot of the subtlety was lost. Still, it was some powerful stuff and I haven’t read something this engrossing in a while.
Do you know if the Chinese translation is more accurate? I’m not crossing any fingers in Vertical bringing the rest of the series over. Loups-Garous will be released in 2010 but I guess that is done to coincide with the animated film.
humbug:
Yah, another convert!
I do not know about the Chinese translation but from what I gathered on the net the quality would seem to be only so-so.
I also heard about Loups-Garous. I really must check it out when I get more time around Christmas.
By the way, since you have read the English edition, can I ask you a few points I am curious about?
i) Did you perceive that Makio was using old-fashioned and stuffy language in his diary entries?
ii) Did they translate any archaic references to ubume at the beginning of the book?
iii) How did they explain the kanji mistake between 涼子 and 京子 and 梗子 to English-speaking readers?
Many thanks in advance.
I lent my copy out (to convert more people lol) so this is all off the top of my head:
1) don’t have an impression of the prose being old-fashioned or stuffy… so probably not. I’ll confirm when I get my copy back this week.
2) Yes, the quotes from several texts on the ubume were translated.
3) The kanji characters were provided when Kyougokudou explained the mistake between the names. I don’t recall the characters appearing at any other point before this, and if this is really the case, I think it’s a bad editorial decision as it lessens the revelation’s impact. This would have a more profound effect on me if I knew the characters from day 1. As it stands, it was more a shock than a revelation to me.
I’m not really sure how to remedy this, though, because if you knew Japanese you would’ve read the original, and if you didn’t, seeing the characters earlier wouldn’t make much of a difference… Tiny regret from someone with just enough Japanese to realize the significance after the fact :{
humbug:
I see. Thanks for the info.
Also, do they use any footnotes to annotate the text? Does the book come with any kind of editor note at the beginning or the end to explain about the author, the background, the main themes, the reception of this book in Japan etc? (It seems that they are too lazy to bother with explaining the significance of “kaa-san” for one thing).
There are no footnotes in the text (are there any in the Japanese version?) and no introduction about anything… didn’t even talk about the translation effort. It was very stripped down.
But this isn’t really surprising. Usually I’d find annotations only if the translation was done by an academic. One of the translators here is Alexander O. Smith, who is known more for his video game localizations and handling some manga and light novels here and there. lol I guess that’s probably heresay to you.
humbug:
The Japanese edition has a kind of “peer review” at the back by another author. No footnotes per se though.
I know I probably shouldn’t just a book by its cover, but when I first saw the cover of the English edition from Vertical, I just had a gut feeling that they may not be as serious in their effort to translate this book as I would have liked…
BTW, is it just me or doesn’t the cover of the PRC edition look the most attractive/thoughtful or what?
http://t.douban.com/lpic/s3178553.jpg
Wow, leave it up to the PRC in getting the cover design right. I was curious if the Chinese translation renamed the title but looks like the original was kept.
I was reading Kyougoku’s wikipedia page earlier and it mentioned several techniques he uses in structuring the pages of his novels. Are you aware of any additional techniques he employs :0
humbug:
A lot of books from the PRC these days have such artful designs. Even I am becoming a fan of book cover designers these days. Here is one whose blog I follow:
ttp://baniu-zhu.blogbus.com/
I apologize if I misunderstood. Do you mean the English wikipedia page? I don’t think it touches upon writing techniques per se.
Really nice covers. For me, one of my favourites is Dave McKean. Have you seen his works? ttp://www.davemckean-collector.co.uk/
Yep, the English wikipedia page. And I wasn’t referring to writing techniques, but formatting techniques. You’ll see what I mean when you read it ^^
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Natsuhiko_Kyogoku#Layout
humbug:
No, I don’t think I have come across DY’s works before.
I think the English wikipedia pretty much captured all formatting techniques – but I will come back to you if I can think of others.
SPOILER WARNING~~ For those who have yet to read the book, please don’t read my comment. :3
I have just finished reading the English translation last night (stayed up til 2AM on a work night, NOT very smart). I actually found your blog a good month ago, but resisted in reading this particular post for spoiler reasons (though I did read your post regarding Mouryou no Hako which I have at least watched the anime of).
First I want to thank you for providing extensive analysis and explanation for some of the major parts of the novel. Certainly the importance of the word “kaa-san” was lost in the translation (they used the word “Mother” which means they took one possible meaning from the dual-meaning word, but this IS a word that is only dual-meaning in Japanese language and culture, so I don’t blame them for sticking with the most literal), as well as the intricacy between the Kanji written for Kyo in Kyoko. But I think in general, even if it was written originally in Japanese, it’ll be difficult and not obvious until the end when Kyogokudo explained it that the Kyo character would come to light. Certainly we were never shown what was written specifically on the envelope, and the audience assumed from the beginning (just as Sekiguchi assumed) that the name written on the envelope were the correct kanji for Kyoko (real one)’s name.
That said, it would be very nice if they could’ve included an Afternote of the book to explain some of the intricacies of Japanese language and connotation, as well as the Japanese culture. Sort of like your blog post, but put at the back of the book. I believe that it is better to keep it at the end of the book and not at the beginning or even as a footnote IN the text itself. Yes it would be nice to explain things as they go along, especially with so many details lost in translation. however I couldn’t help but feel like it might have been a bit of a spoiler. Indeed the original Japanese text clearly took use of the Japanese language connotations to move the audience’s way of thinking toward a certain direction (that there is a dual meaning in the word “kaa-san”) but again that is part of the Japanese language. If we have a footnote in the English version, it would be far less subtle compared to the original Japanese text, and I feel would detract from the intricacy.
In any case, when Sekiguchi first met Ryoko at Enokizu’s office, he did use Seki as his “name” (the false alias that you mentioned) and continued to do so until later when one of the other characters called him Sekiguchi i think. It just wasn’t explicitly stated that he was using Seki for a good part of the novel (mainly due to it being first person. not sure how it was written in Japanese, but in English it would certainly sound strange if he referred to himself in third person).
I didn’t actually read the book all in one go, but rather stopped several times (mainly due to lack of time though). However I do have to admit, at least a fourth of the book reads like an insanely fascinating religious/mythological/psychological/medical textbook. I had to stop constantly to reread what Kyogokudo just said, and rearrange his ideas in my head in a way that I could understand and grasp. In some ways, we as audience IS Sekiguchi, or perhaps spectres sitting next to him, sharing his confusion and thoughts as Kyogokudo teaches us his version of the mind, brain, and consciousness, and how all of it functions together. We see through Sekiguchi’s eyes, and in a lot of ways I find it fitting and perhaps the best choice, because honestly, it definitely took me a while of sitting there rereading and thinking to really get it. just like how it look Sekiguchi forever to understand Kyogokudo’s words. certainly my mind did not move nearly as quick as Atsuko’s, who was able to grasp what her brother was saying much faster than Sekiguchi did.
The explanation parts were a bit slower to read and harder to get through, but I agree with you that it didn’t not really detract from the story. To me, verbal sparring and dialogue is far more important in a novel. Action is all well and good in a movie, but it’s really the dialogue, the exchange of information, that really moves the plot along in any story. As proof, the most exciting part of the story was the spoken revelation at the end, when Naito was called in for questioning, then the Kuonji parents, the dialogue that occurred there. The running around trying to chase Ryoko part was exciting, but nothing beats the moment of revelation. Maybe this is why I so enjoyed Miyabe Miyuki’s Shadow Family vs some of her more action oriented novels.
The other reason it was slower for me to read was probably because having watched Mouryou no Hako, I had images of the characters and the locale in my head already, so as I read, I keep ending up imagining the exact scenary of what’s going on. I had to drag myself away from my mental image half of the time, because I suddenly realized I’m too busy watching the “anime” in my head instead of really “listening” to what Kyogokudo was saying. LOL
(side note, did you notice that in the novel Sekiguchi was described as having a beard and looking rather scruffy, or as Enokizu mentioned, he looks like a hairy ape. That totally didn’t jibe with my image of Sekiguchi being a cleancut glasses wearing and rather weak willed/messed up in the head young man of the CLAMP illustrated anime. Same with Kiba, when he first showed up, he was described as being a lot more…affable? more jovial? than what I was expecting due to his role in Mouryou no Hako. Did any of this tickle you and made you laugh? now i have this mixed image of the pretty cleancut Sekiguchi…with a thick beard. oh dear!)
I was seriously impressed with the fact that the author had Kyogokudo explain all of these ideas and theories beforehand, before the mystery really unraveled. Similar to Sekiguchi, if we were just thrown with “oh they cannot see such and such because their brain is selectively sending only some information to the mind” I would’ve balked and chalked the whole book up to the “it’s so unrealistic and rather supernatural, the author totally coped out!” like how i vaguely felt at the end of Miyabe’s Devil’s Whispers. Instead, because Kyogokudo prepared Sekiguchi, therefore the audience, everything he taught earlier came a full circle back to the moment when the revelation occurred, and suddenly I was able to understand “oh, this is what happened, it makes perfect sense.” I believe the author was brilliant in that sense, essentially rewriting the audience’s own memories and knowledge, so that we can fully understand his novel. And at the end, I was actually able to completely agree with Kyogokudo when he claimed “There is nothing strange in this world.” It wasn’t just merely something a character said any more. To me, that was the truth that was taught to me through the course of the novel.
As a side note, I’m of the impression that the fact that Sekiguchi used “kaa-san” instead of “kaa-sama” like Makio did, was one of the major turning point and difference between Sekiguchi and Makio. Whereas Makio used “kaa-sama” which is only by a child toward his mother, and thereby the instrument of his death by “the mother”‘s hands, Sekiguchi’s usage of “kaa-san” can mean both “Mother” as in from a child to his mom, as well as how the husband would call his wife when the child is alive. Because there is that dual meaning, I felt like at the end the one who really gave the child to Sekiguchi was Ryoko, not “the mother” nor “Kyoko”. ,If Sekiguchi used “kaa-sama”, perhaps the ending would’ve been different. “the mother” personality of Ryoko might have been called forth and the child could’ve been dropped, smashed, died. Or perhaps “the mother” would have viewed Sekiguchi like how she viewed Makio – a big baby that needed to be killed. In either case, handing the baby back to Sekiguchi and then falling to her death probably would not have been the result. Instead because he used “kaa-san”, Sekiguchi was the “husband” of Ryoko (the original personality) and “the mother” personality, but was also the “baby” for the “Kyoko” personality. He was essentially what the original Ryoko had hoped would come to save her 12 years before. Therefore, she was able to move on, maybe. Of course, this is just my own conclusion. XD
In any case, I greatly enjoyed this novel even though a lot was missed in translation. After having read it, and watched Mouryou no Hako anime, I have to admit that Ubume no Natsu is a much stronger and emotional work. Mouryou no Hako, in comparison, seemed more trivial somehow. Still, I hope Vertical (or some other publisher) would bring over more of Kyogoku’s works. I will certainly be purchasing my own copy of Ubume no Natsu (i read a library copy) as well as the stand alone novel (Loups=Garou) that’s coming out in May. :D