I can't remember how many times I've gone to Barnes and Noble on a whim with the intention of finding this book, every time being disappointed at the void where Abe's name should be. But, this Christmas season I've been given another route of literary indulgence... an eReader... specifically a little black and white Nook. When I first sat down with it I was a little lost. I'd just been given the ability to instantly read any book I wanted and I didn't know where to start. So I fiddled with the settings for a bit until The Woman in the Dunes hit me as an obvious test run for my new gadget.
I'll first start off by saying, "Yes, I am a big fat hypocrite for getting an eReader having waged wars with people over the loss of the real, the tangible, the textures and even the smell of REAL books." I have no excuse; it was a gift and it's neat... I'll still be reading quite a few real books, but it's nice to know that for rare ones, I no longer have to wait a week for UPS ground delivery.
As for The Woman in the Dunes. I really quite liked it. It's funny how different it is from the other Japanese surrealist author I know and love (Murakami). Abe is much more clinical and cold, and the narrative is much tighter and simpler. While Murakami is a vine wrapping itself around the most colorful of environments, Abe is a lonely tree in the middle of a desert.
The story follows an entomologist on a trip to the shore searching for undiscovered insects, particularly beetles. He happens upon a small village with odd inhabitants who, at first, only concern themselves with whether or not the man is with the police (which should be a clear sign to run the other way). But the entomologist insists that he must stay the night in the village and leaves it up to a seemingly friendly old man to arrange room and board for him. He's led to a cabin precariously situated at the bottom of a sand pit and learns the next morning that the villagers intend for him to stay. The village turns out to be a collection of similar pits with homes that must be protected from the shifting sand. They shovel out an amount of sand daily from around the cabins so they aren't degraded and ultimately buried. The entomologist is placed in a cabin belonging to a widow because she doesn't have the strength to maintain her home by herself. And he is expected to stay there against his will for as long as he lives....
Over the course of the novel the man makes several attempts to escape while dealing with existential conflicts about free will, about personal potential and contentment, about lust, and ultimately the frayed edges of love. He approaches each internal and external conflict with the cold, calculated demeanor one would expect from someone who made a life out of studying and preserving insects. And because of his distant attitude throughout, you never feel that close to him. The reader is forced to view him more as a caged mouse, a subject to study and formulate hypotheses about. And even though I generally prefer warm characters who I feel close to, who I can relate to, it was definitely captivating to watch the 30-something scientist scurry around his sandy pit, searching desperately for means of escape.
Kobo Abe was introduced to me as a recommendation after reading Murakami, and although they come from the same country and contribute to the same genre, it's hard to say that they have anything else in common; though I do enjoy them both thoroughly and will be seeking out more from Abe in the near future.
5/5
