The Dandelion

Kawabata’s The Dandelion (also published as Dandelions, Tanpopo) was left unfinished at the time of his death and published posthumously in 1972, and it shows. Reading it, I found myself slipping into an editor’s mindset, which became an exercise in itself. One can’t help but wonder whether Kawabata might have abandoned the work had he lived longer. While some polishing could have reduced the repetition and inconsistency, the novel as a whole doesn’t feel as though it could have been shaped into something on par with his other works. Kafka died before completing The Castle, yet that novel still conveys a clear sense of direction. The Dandelion, by contrast, feels underdeveloped.

Kawabata may have sensed this himself. In the final pages, Ineko’s mother introduces the phrase tōne no sasu kane, a bell with a distant ring, remarking, “It’s a nice way to describe the sound of an old bell, don’t you think?” Ineko’s lover replies, “A distant ring. Yes, that’s nice, and you could say that about this conversation, too.” Up to that point, the book largely consists of this kind of extended, meandering exchange between the two. The mother, perhaps echoing Kawabata himself, responds, “Don’t be ridiculous—not this random chatter.”

I agree.

There are, however, moments of unmistakably Kawabata-like beauty in the prose. Certain descriptions and sentences stand out and make the work worth reading, even if its lack of cohesion and relatively static plot make it difficult to fully enjoy.