seen in its proper context, The 210th Day can be appreciated as an intriguing literary experiment, one that reflects the influence of earlier Japanese literary narrative while advancing a distinctly modern and progressive social ideal. It should be noted that the late Meiji period witnessed an outpouring of writing that promoted diverse social, cultural and artistic programs. Sōseki was but one of many writers experimenting with literary avenues for giving voice to prevailing intellectual and ethical issues. Contesting styles were aired in the literary periodicals, and much of this writing will strike the reader as rather awkward and tentative.
The 210th Day is such a work. It takes the form of an extended dialogue, carried over several episodes, between two friends touring the region around the volcanic Mt Aso in central Kyushu. The work is based on an actual trip that Sōseki made to Kyushu in September 1899 with a close friend, Yamakawa Shinjirô (1867-?). The two did indeed set out to climb Mt Aso, when they encountered a storm on the "210th day"—which is to say, the lunar calendar day traditionally associated with storms and typhoons.
The two friends in our tale, Kei and Roku, are loosely modeled, respectively, upon Sōseki and Yamakawa. The bulk of the story consists of their rambling dialogue, which proceeds in the absence of any narrative stage-setting. The dialogue is interspersed with occasional descriptions of the inn where they stay; and, later on, the dark, foreboding scenery they encounter on their abortive climb.
Much of this dialogue is marked by easy-going, light-hearted banter. For instance, there is the scene in Chapter 3 involving a somewhat dimwitted waitress who, when asked for some soft-boiled eggs (which in Japanese translates as "half-boiled"), brings out a combination of raw and hard-boiled eggs:
"[Waitress], you can see that the other gentleman has raw eggs and I have hard-boiled eggs."
"Yes, for sure."
"Why have you done it like that?"
"I boiled half of them."
Such comic patter is redolent of the literary burlesques of the late Tokugawa period (1600-1868) and the popular raconteurs whose lively storytelling captivated Sōseki in his youth. Indeed, the preponderance of dialogue in The 210th Day can be interpreted both as homage to an admired cultural form that was on the decline and as a literary etude—an occasion for experimenting with styles of dialogue. The dialogue is indeed quite effective.
The two characters—acquaintances whose relationship remains unclear—contrast strongly with one another. Kei, dynamic and opinionated, lets on that he is the son of a tofu manufacturer, then surprises his friend by advocating a radical social agenda. Proclaiming the need for a just society, Kei expresses disdain for worldly gain and class inequity, and contempt for those with power and privilege. His shrill idealism masks a deeply cynical nature:
"Underneath their congenial masks, human beings are capable of every kind of baseness. If they are penniless they stick to themselves. But if they have a certain position in society, that's when the problems start. They infect the whole of society with their meanness...." (Chapter 3)
Keis righteous indignation, with which he harangues his easy-going friend, is reminiscent of I am a Cat, in which the pretensions of the high and mighty come in for frequent drubbing. A similar moral agenda marks Botchan, whose entirely unpretentious protagonist stands up to arrogance, deceit, and hypocrisy. On the other hand, Roku is intrigued by the revelation of his friend's background and wants to hear more. But Kei will not oblige. Their conversation becomes a series of dodges and feints, much like the circuitous path they take up the volcano.
Sōseki sets his tale in the rural hinterland, far from his comfortable urban haunts, and the ensuing description of the hostile elements and ominous natural forces that beset his characters is skillfully drawn:
"The gigantic mountain rumbles more violently every five minutes, and each time the rain and the smoke seem to be quivering in unison, the final waves of vibration shaking the body of Roku, who remains motionless and deprived of strength. As far as the eye can see the grass bends under the smoke and is whipped to and fro by the bursts of rain." (Chapter 4)
The 210th-day storm overpowers the two friends and they must abandon their climb. The next morning, Kei tries to talk his reluctant friend into making another go at climbing Mt Aso. He is intent on having his way. They talk things over, and Kei once again turns to the theme of injustice and the evils wrought by society's high and mighty:
"If we live in this world our foremost aim should be to defeat the monsters of civilization and give some little comfort to the lower classes without money or power; do you not think so?"
"Yes, that's true—yes."
Having finally convinced his friend on this score, Kei uses his leverage to have the friend agree to join him on a second attempt to climb the mountain. And so the story ends.
Kei's discourse on social injustice in The 210th Day resonates with the author's own social philosophy, and it reflects the larger concerns of Japanese writers and intellectuals who sought a high moral and intellectual plane for literature. Yet, Sōseki's little tale is as much a parody of intellectual posturing and pomposity as it is a serious presentation of ideas. Its nicely deployed comic effects place it firmly in the orbit of the truly masterful I am a Cat.
In a sense, Sōseki's freedom to experiment with fictional technique, as represented by works such as The 210th Day, ended when he joined the Asahi staff as a literary journalist. He would now be expected to produce works that appealed to the general reading public. It may be argued that the discourse style employed in his ephemeral "dialogue-tale" would be put to use in the subsequent novels. It is certainly the case that a number of his protagonists would hold forth on social issues and ethics. In this sense, The 210th Day stands as an interesting narrative hybrid, written at a particular juncture in the author's career that points to earlier influences while foreshadowing the noteworthy development of his mature literary style.
The present volume is one of the more recent in Tuttle's project of new and reissued translations of Sōseki's work. Thanks to Tuttle, we have a representative sampling of the writings—novelistic and otherwise—of this seminal author, who continues to inspire and entertain Japanese and non-Japanese readers alike. In particular, I am delighted that in addition to The 210th Day, Tuttle has recently published several volumes of Sōseki's personal writings, including Inside My Glass Doors and Spring Miscellany. These collections, which provide fascinating insights into the author's early years, his family, and his circle of friends and colleagues, are a most welcome addition to the work available in English.
MARVIN MARCUS
February 2002
Chapter I
Kei returns from somewhere, his arms swinging.
"Where have you been?"
"I went for a little walk in the town."
"Anything to look at?"
"A temple."
"What else?"
"A gingko at the door of the temple."
"And what else?"
"Between the gingko and the main pavilion the road was tiled over for about a hundred meters. The temple is a long, narrow building."
"Did you go in?"
"I gave up the idea."
"Nothing else apart from that?"
"Nothing in particular. There is a temple in most villages, isn't there?"
"Yes, wherever people die, it's certainly needed."
"Certainly," Kei replied, bending his head. Every now and then Kei would express untimely admiration. After a moment he raised his head and declared:
"After that I called on the farrier, who was busy shoeing a horse: you wouldn't believe what an expert job he was making of it."
"I did think you had been gone a long time just to