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josephk's review against another edition
dark
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
rose_of_thenile's review against another edition
dark
emotional
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
wolfdan9's review against another edition
3.0
“I wish that some morning, while my eyes are closed, the whole world would change.”
Thirst For Love is a lesser novel by Yukio Mishima. For a somewhat juvenile work, it was entertaining, thoughtful, and even well-written, but it didn’t impress me very much. The story is centered around Etsuko, who is a tragic and deeply flawed woman. Her shitty husband died, but she remained living with her husband’s family which includes his wealthy father and a sibling or two. Also living with the family are at least two peasants. Etsuko is an extremely jealous woman, so jealous that she wishes for her husband’s death because he is having an affair with another woman as he is suffering from tuberculosis in the hospital. Upon the death of her husband, her father-in-law begins molesting her, to which she acquiesces. She is basically indifferent to it, but sees his affection as advantageous to her, so she allows it to emotionally manipulate him. Meanwhile she falls in love with Saburo, a young and handsome farmhand, but she cannot communicate her emotions to him. She becomes possessive (in her mind) and jealous of Saburo’s interactions with women. At the climax of the novel, the reader learners that he has impregnated Miyo, another peasant, which leads Etsuko’s inner turmoil to spiral out of control. She manipulates her father-in-law to fire Miyo, and demands that Saburo meet her in a dilapidated greenhouse on the property in the middle of the night.
The ending was particularly interesting, but it was a little rushed and the impact nearly fell flat for me. Etsuko reveals to Saburo, who is emotionally detached from all other characters by the way, that she fired Miyo. Saburo essentially wants to escape the situation because he’s unable to communicate with Etsuko about emotions like love that he does not have, understand, or value, so he tells Etsuko that he loves her. Etsuko sees through this, but Saburo, on a masculine impulse, begins to unclothe her. While Etsuko, who had wished for this from the beginning, is overjoyed, she finds herself inexplicably running away and screaming. She ends up killing Saburo and burying him there in self-defense. The matter is complicated by Etsuko’s emotions — she realizes, perhaps, that she wished to kill Saburo more than she wished for his love. She understands that she is a wicked woman who simply wants power over others to hurt them.
The misunderstanding in final encounter highlights their class difference as the source of their obvious incompatibility. Mishima writes that “words stood between them like an intransigent ghost.” Saburo does not value or understand love because it represents a luxury. In his unpretentious poverty, he cannot relate to a desire for love, which Etsuko is obsessed with in her higher status. Etsuko’s torment over love for Saburo throughout the whole novel is a wasted effort; Saburo cannot identity with love to begin with. Not to mention that love is used as a tool for abuse in the case of Etsuko as a victim of her father-in-law, who is of an ever higher status, as well. Mishima reflects on what love can be. In this story, it is an outlet for control.
The novel ends with an allusion to Etsuko perhaps feeling guilty, or more likely, being once again tortured by her wicked soul. The roosters, who do not actually exist, crow in her mind. This indicates she’s either haunted by guilt or destined to never change.
Thirst For Love is a lesser novel by Yukio Mishima. For a somewhat juvenile work, it was entertaining, thoughtful, and even well-written, but it didn’t impress me very much. The story is centered around Etsuko, who is a tragic and deeply flawed woman. Her shitty husband died, but she remained living with her husband’s family which includes his wealthy father and a sibling or two. Also living with the family are at least two peasants. Etsuko is an extremely jealous woman, so jealous that she wishes for her husband’s death because he is having an affair with another woman as he is suffering from tuberculosis in the hospital. Upon the death of her husband, her father-in-law begins molesting her, to which she acquiesces. She is basically indifferent to it, but sees his affection as advantageous to her, so she allows it to emotionally manipulate him. Meanwhile she falls in love with Saburo, a young and handsome farmhand, but she cannot communicate her emotions to him. She becomes possessive (in her mind) and jealous of Saburo’s interactions with women. At the climax of the novel, the reader learners that he has impregnated Miyo, another peasant, which leads Etsuko’s inner turmoil to spiral out of control. She manipulates her father-in-law to fire Miyo, and demands that Saburo meet her in a dilapidated greenhouse on the property in the middle of the night.
The ending was particularly interesting, but it was a little rushed and the impact nearly fell flat for me. Etsuko reveals to Saburo, who is emotionally detached from all other characters by the way, that she fired Miyo. Saburo essentially wants to escape the situation because he’s unable to communicate with Etsuko about emotions like love that he does not have, understand, or value, so he tells Etsuko that he loves her. Etsuko sees through this, but Saburo, on a masculine impulse, begins to unclothe her. While Etsuko, who had wished for this from the beginning, is overjoyed, she finds herself inexplicably running away and screaming. She ends up killing Saburo and burying him there in self-defense. The matter is complicated by Etsuko’s emotions — she realizes, perhaps, that she wished to kill Saburo more than she wished for his love. She understands that she is a wicked woman who simply wants power over others to hurt them.
The misunderstanding in final encounter highlights their class difference as the source of their obvious incompatibility. Mishima writes that “words stood between them like an intransigent ghost.” Saburo does not value or understand love because it represents a luxury. In his unpretentious poverty, he cannot relate to a desire for love, which Etsuko is obsessed with in her higher status. Etsuko’s torment over love for Saburo throughout the whole novel is a wasted effort; Saburo cannot identity with love to begin with. Not to mention that love is used as a tool for abuse in the case of Etsuko as a victim of her father-in-law, who is of an ever higher status, as well. Mishima reflects on what love can be. In this story, it is an outlet for control.
The novel ends with an allusion to Etsuko perhaps feeling guilty, or more likely, being once again tortured by her wicked soul. The roosters, who do not actually exist, crow in her mind. This indicates she’s either haunted by guilt or destined to never change.
swikriti's review against another edition
dark
emotional
reflective
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
All the characters in this book are so toxic that I wouldn't come near them with a 10ft pole except Miyo (justice for miyo)
This was my first book by the author and I loved reading it. Alternative title for this book could be "jealousy jealousy"
This was my first book by the author and I loved reading it. Alternative title for this book could be "jealousy jealousy"
laughofmedusa's review against another edition
4.0
(Relecture)
Etsuko... Il y a comme une sensualité de la trace dans ce mot. Etsuko... Etsuko....
Cette histoire est une succession de délicatesses perverties. Mishima y dépeint une femme faite de plusieurs petits élans : un élan pour la chair, un élan pour le feu, un autre pour le sang. De cette femme on retient bien des choses... cette façon qu'elle a de se mouvoir avec mollesse, ce regard désorbité qu'elle porte sur ce qui l'entoure - regard intimement caché et n'exigeant aucun éclat extérieur, et surtout cette envie de posséder l'homme désiré mais dans la souffrance. Dans la souffrance car Etsuko est jalouse. Sa jalousie est un cœur qui ne bat pas mais qui crépite ; se faisant tantôt joie tantôt violence, l'une se substituant à l'autre en un entrelacement qui tend vers l'étranglement. Elle veut une souffrance « à hauteur de mort » (je devais citer Bataille), ses plaies étant la substance même de ce qu'elle est.
Si l’esquisse que je viens d'en faire est assez parlante, vous imaginez que la nature dans laquelle évolue ce personnage ne peut-être que le décor d'une agonie multipliée. Ce décor présage à autant d'épars cryptogrammes le drame qui clôturera le livre. Je pense notamment à cette scène, où un enfant prend plaisir à voir des fourmis se noyer dans de l'eau bouillante. Une aura de cruauté donc, inlassablement construite et déconstruite selon ce qui doit être vu/compris : telle décharge, à tel moment.
Voyez, si la légende racontait que Mishima dit un jour « Etsuko c'est moi », j’y aurais cru. Il me semble que de tous ses personnages, Etsuko est celle qui lui ressemble le plus. Parlons de Saburo, cet homme qu'elle désire, ne vous rappelle-t-il pas l'idéal mâle tant convoité dans les Confessions de l'auteur ? Ce corps hâlé, tout de force et de muscles, qui devient vite souillé dès qu’une intelligence
l’habite. Et ce penchant pour le vide voluptueux, cette aspiration à ne faire qu'un avec la mort ?
Je balance une réflexion aux traits encore imprécis, comme émanant d'un moi dans le flou pour un moi qui aura vu plus clair : à la page 48, il y a un moment enchanteur qui porte une notion de dépense…de gâchis, et qui revient sous une autre forme, un peu plus loin, page 158...
Etsuko... Il y a comme une sensualité de la trace dans ce mot. Etsuko... Etsuko....
Cette histoire est une succession de délicatesses perverties. Mishima y dépeint une femme faite de plusieurs petits élans : un élan pour la chair, un élan pour le feu, un autre pour le sang. De cette femme on retient bien des choses... cette façon qu'elle a de se mouvoir avec mollesse, ce regard désorbité qu'elle porte sur ce qui l'entoure - regard intimement caché et n'exigeant aucun éclat extérieur, et surtout cette envie de posséder l'homme désiré mais dans la souffrance. Dans la souffrance car Etsuko est jalouse. Sa jalousie est un cœur qui ne bat pas mais qui crépite ; se faisant tantôt joie tantôt violence, l'une se substituant à l'autre en un entrelacement qui tend vers l'étranglement. Elle veut une souffrance « à hauteur de mort » (je devais citer Bataille), ses plaies étant la substance même de ce qu'elle est.
Si l’esquisse que je viens d'en faire est assez parlante, vous imaginez que la nature dans laquelle évolue ce personnage ne peut-être que le décor d'une agonie multipliée. Ce décor présage à autant d'épars cryptogrammes le drame qui clôturera le livre. Je pense notamment à cette scène, où un enfant prend plaisir à voir des fourmis se noyer dans de l'eau bouillante. Une aura de cruauté donc, inlassablement construite et déconstruite selon ce qui doit être vu/compris : telle décharge, à tel moment.
Voyez, si la légende racontait que Mishima dit un jour « Etsuko c'est moi », j’y aurais cru. Il me semble que de tous ses personnages, Etsuko est celle qui lui ressemble le plus. Parlons de Saburo, cet homme qu'elle désire, ne vous rappelle-t-il pas l'idéal mâle tant convoité dans les Confessions de l'auteur ? Ce corps hâlé, tout de force et de muscles, qui devient vite souillé dès qu’une intelligence
l’habite. Et ce penchant pour le vide voluptueux, cette aspiration à ne faire qu'un avec la mort ?
Je balance une réflexion aux traits encore imprécis, comme émanant d'un moi dans le flou pour un moi qui aura vu plus clair : à la page 48, il y a un moment enchanteur qui porte une notion de dépense…de gâchis, et qui revient sous une autre forme, un peu plus loin, page 158...
alyarchive's review against another edition
dark
mysterious
reflective
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
My intake of this book is heavy onto the thoughts of the character that resonates a lot with me instead of its unsettling plot. I live by the writing. Its complex yet comprehensible, engulfed into beautiful words that make up unforgettable sentences. I do feel some characters are quite one-dimensional, especially the love interest. There's a lot of messages that remain to this day, where people still direct their anger towards women due to their own cause of jealousy, and how men still driven by lust, even in the absence of love. One word to say, it is twisted, but I'm impressed with the author's thoughts into women's head though some views he has on humanity is questionable.
ohhiana's review against another edition
dark
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? It's complicated
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.0
Despite its title, I would argue the novel is woven with the threads of jealousy and obsession rather than love. The beauty of the language also manages to shine through in the Portuguese translation:
“A vida – esse mar complexo e sem limites, repleto de destroços à deriva, transbordante de azuis e verdes caprichos, violentos, mas eternamente transparentes.”
"Life – this complex and boundless sea, full of drifting wreckage, overflowing with capricious blues and greens, violent yet eternally transparent."
Jealousy and insecurity regarding her husband’s feelings and conduct exacerbate Etsuko’s obsession and desire for control. Like a castaway adrift who finds a plank, she desperately clings to the opportunity to care for her sick husbandand watch him die .
“Era-me bem mais fácil contemplar a certeza da morte do meu marido do que a incerteza da sua vida.”
"It was much easier for me to contemplate the certainty of my husband's death than the uncertainty of his life."
Simultaneously, the eagerness of her jealousy drives her to wish to abandon her life, which she indirectly does bymoving in with her late husband’s family and becoming her father-in-law’s lover .
“Antes tinha desejado morrer com o marido – a morte de uma viúva indiana. Era um sentimento oculto, um sacrifício com que sonhava, um suicídio oferecido, não tanto em lamentação da morte do marido mas mais pela inveja que tinha daquela morte. O que ela pretendia não era uma morte comum, nem normal, mas antes uma morte lenta, que se prolongasse por longo tempo. Nas profundezas da sua inveja procurava algo que lhe permitisse nunca mais temer esse ciúme. Subjacente a esta ânsia sórdida, tão ignóbil como a apetência por corpos putrefactos, existia um desejo fervoroso de guardar tudo para si própria – talvez uma avidez sem sentido.”
"She had once wished to die with her husband – the death of an Indian widow. It was a hidden feeling, a sacrifice she dreamed of, a suicide offered not so much in lamentation of her husband's death but more out of envy for that death. What she sought was not an ordinary or normal death, but rather a slow death, one that would be prolonged over a long time. In the depths of her envy, she sought something that would allow her to never fear that jealousy again. Underlying this sordid yearning, as ignoble as the appetite for decaying bodies, was a fervent desire to keep everything to herself – perhaps a senseless greed."
I am amazed at how well Mishima managed to portray the inner musings and obsessions of the main character, in what is a portrait with depth. On the one hand, it is unsettling; on the other, it is a fascinating dive into toxicity and desolation.
The timeline of the novel also seems to make two overlapping circles: the first year, culminating with thedeath of her husband near the end of Autumn, and the second year, with the death of her coveted house servant around the same time. And is it not Autumn the season when the expansion of Summer culminates and withers?
“A vida – esse mar complexo e sem limites, repleto de destroços à deriva, transbordante de azuis e verdes caprichos, violentos, mas eternamente transparentes.”
"Life – this complex and boundless sea, full of drifting wreckage, overflowing with capricious blues and greens, violent yet eternally transparent."
Jealousy and insecurity regarding her husband’s feelings and conduct exacerbate Etsuko’s obsession and desire for control. Like a castaway adrift who finds a plank, she desperately clings to the opportunity to care for her sick husband
“Era-me bem mais fácil contemplar a certeza da morte do meu marido do que a incerteza da sua vida.”
"It was much easier for me to contemplate the certainty of my husband's death than the uncertainty of his life."
Simultaneously, the eagerness of her jealousy drives her to wish to abandon her life, which she indirectly does by
“Antes tinha desejado morrer com o marido – a morte de uma viúva indiana. Era um sentimento oculto, um sacrifício com que sonhava, um suicídio oferecido, não tanto em lamentação da morte do marido mas mais pela inveja que tinha daquela morte. O que ela pretendia não era uma morte comum, nem normal, mas antes uma morte lenta, que se prolongasse por longo tempo. Nas profundezas da sua inveja procurava algo que lhe permitisse nunca mais temer esse ciúme. Subjacente a esta ânsia sórdida, tão ignóbil como a apetência por corpos putrefactos, existia um desejo fervoroso de guardar tudo para si própria – talvez uma avidez sem sentido.”
"She had once wished to die with her husband – the death of an Indian widow. It was a hidden feeling, a sacrifice she dreamed of, a suicide offered not so much in lamentation of her husband's death but more out of envy for that death. What she sought was not an ordinary or normal death, but rather a slow death, one that would be prolonged over a long time. In the depths of her envy, she sought something that would allow her to never fear that jealousy again. Underlying this sordid yearning, as ignoble as the appetite for decaying bodies, was a fervent desire to keep everything to herself – perhaps a senseless greed."
I am amazed at how well Mishima managed to portray the inner musings and obsessions of the main character, in what is a portrait with depth. On the one hand, it is unsettling; on the other, it is a fascinating dive into toxicity and desolation.
The timeline of the novel also seems to make two overlapping circles: the first year, culminating with the
efimerabonhomia's review against another edition
3.0
3,5
Sed de amor es otra gran novela del magnífico escritor Mishima que ahonda en las profundidades de la psicología humana a través de sus personajes. Usa el amor, la soledad y la búsqueda de la identidad para mostrar las debilidades y fortalezas de las emociones humanas. Sin duda hay muy pocos escritores que consigan captar con una narración incisiva y prácticamente haciendo uso de la ficción filosófica, apoyarse en personajes para mostrar la razón psicológica.
Sin duda destaca la profunda relación que Mishima recalca entre la soledad y el amor. Cómo se usa el amor como un escudo ante la soledad cuando no se sabe lo que es sentirse enamorado. Mishima magistralmente nos muestra a la desesperada Eutsuko, que desea y anhela el amor. No la conexión, sino lo que ella piensa y cree que es amor. Veremos a la protagonista danzar por la vida siempre manteniendo el tema central de olvidar su existencia para unirse a alguien. A partir de este personaje, el autor nos muestra esa necesidad humana de amor y las maneras en que esto nos puede atormentar o servir como un simple aprendizaje de nuestra propia intimidad. Brillante. Sobre todo ese uso de metáforas sobre la naturaleza que simbolizan en sí el estado de las emociones de la protagonista.
Basándose en un personaje principal que está dañada completamente por sus experiencias pasadas que busca incansablemente la idea de amor y la aceptación constante, una mujer que deja que decidan por ella simple y llanamente por lograr el objetivo de ser amada. Todo esto sumado al papel que tienen las tradiciones del Japón posterior a la segunda guerra mundial, hacen una crítica profundamente filosófica sobre el amor. El culmen de la novela es ese final que no llega a ser lírico ni metafórico, es la triste realidad detrás de la ensoñación del amor.
El amor no es un regalo es una conexión que forma un enlace entre dos personas que se cuidan.
Sed de amor es otra gran novela del magnífico escritor Mishima que ahonda en las profundidades de la psicología humana a través de sus personajes. Usa el amor, la soledad y la búsqueda de la identidad para mostrar las debilidades y fortalezas de las emociones humanas. Sin duda hay muy pocos escritores que consigan captar con una narración incisiva y prácticamente haciendo uso de la ficción filosófica, apoyarse en personajes para mostrar la razón psicológica.
Sin duda destaca la profunda relación que Mishima recalca entre la soledad y el amor. Cómo se usa el amor como un escudo ante la soledad cuando no se sabe lo que es sentirse enamorado. Mishima magistralmente nos muestra a la desesperada Eutsuko, que desea y anhela el amor. No la conexión, sino lo que ella piensa y cree que es amor. Veremos a la protagonista danzar por la vida siempre manteniendo el tema central de olvidar su existencia para unirse a alguien. A partir de este personaje, el autor nos muestra esa necesidad humana de amor y las maneras en que esto nos puede atormentar o servir como un simple aprendizaje de nuestra propia intimidad. Brillante. Sobre todo ese uso de metáforas sobre la naturaleza que simbolizan en sí el estado de las emociones de la protagonista.
Basándose en un personaje principal que está dañada completamente por sus experiencias pasadas que busca incansablemente la idea de amor y la aceptación constante, una mujer que deja que decidan por ella simple y llanamente por lograr el objetivo de ser amada. Todo esto sumado al papel que tienen las tradiciones del Japón posterior a la segunda guerra mundial, hacen una crítica profundamente filosófica sobre el amor. El culmen de la novela es ese final que no llega a ser lírico ni metafórico, es la triste realidad detrás de la ensoñación del amor.
El amor no es un regalo es una conexión que forma un enlace entre dos personas que se cuidan.