By Bruce Allen
Lake of Heaven is a story of the folks, tradition, and atmosphere of a eastern mountain village that's sunk to construct a dam. As Gary Snyder reviews, the tale turns into a parable for the bigger international, _in which all of our previous cultures and all of our previous villages have gotten buried, sunken, and misplaced lower than the emerging waters of the dams of industrialization and globalization._
Read or Download Lake of Heaven: An original translation of the Japanese novel by Ishimure Michiko (Asiaworld) PDF
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Additional info for Lake of Heaven: An original translation of the Japanese novel by Ishimure Michiko (Asiaworld)
Sample text
So the trees act as a sensitive instrument when they move with the wind? ” The sounds of trains and long-distance trucks would interrupt these conversations that had gone on between grandfather and grandson like the confiding of secrets. The grimy polluted air sank into the little potted andromeda tree that had been placed in the tiny city garden just as a decoration. Even though his grandfather carefully sprayed it with mist, the grime wouldn’t come off. After his grandfather’s death, with no one to water it, the tree too had withered and died.
But more than military affairs he had loved literature, and more even than writing he had loved music. Once, in reminiscing, he had spoken of how he wished he had gone into the navy since they had a musical band. Ever since the war, until the time his strange behavior began, he had avoided speaking of his experiences on the battlefield. But there could be no doubt that those thoughts had continued to weigh heavily on his heart. For some reason or other, he had taken a great liking to the big old gingko tree that stood near Nakano Station in Tokyo.
The young man’s eyes expressed affection as he looked at her. And as if breathing a sigh of relief he took off the cloth bag he had been carrying on his back and placed it on the grass. My goodness, that must be a biwa lute—thought Ohina when she saw the bag. Stretched along the bottom of the lake was a village roadway that appeared like a long scratch. No doubt even now the river was still flowing alongside that roadway. Ohina had said you couldn’t get to the graveyard unless you crossed over the river.