The Dancing Girl of Izu and Other Stories

“The Dancing Girl of Izu,” particularly its final three pages, is memorable for its delicate poignancy. What follows is a series of brief vignettes, like postcard-sized watercolors, which Kawabata referred to as palm-of-the-hand stories. Blending fiction and memory, including the early deaths of his parents and sister, followed by those of his grandparents during adolescence, along with misremembering and omission, Kawabata evokes mono no aware through sparse, often elusive prose.

Kawabata could achieve a great deal with very few words. There’s something of Ryunosuke Akutagawa in his style as well, a similar undercurrent of melancholy. Akutagawa tends to create fuller, more clearly defined images, whereas Kawabata’s stories can feel like fragments, at times almost experimental, inviting the reader to fill in the gaps. They benefit from reflection, perhaps even discussion, to fully appreciate their depth. “The Dancing Girl of Izu” is the strongest piece in this collection, though several of the others are likely to linger.

One question I’m left with, for myself or anyone who might have an answer: why do paulownia trees appear so frequently in Japanese literature? Their significance isn’t entirely clear to me. Given the wide variety of trees in Japan, it seems unlikely they serve only as decorative imagery; there must be something more behind their recurring presence.

Title: Paulownia Trees at Akasaka in the Evening Rain; Artist: Utagawa Hiroshige II; Date: 1859