The Sound of Waves

Uta-Jima is an idyllic island unaffected by the changes in modern Japan. The island fishermen live by labor, reputation, and custom. Shinji, a poor fisherman, falls in love with Hatsue, the daughter of a wealthy shipowner. Their romance is simple and direct, beginning with Shinji’s unknowing love-at-first-sight. Even the main conflict of the story, the refusal of Hatsue’s father to permit their marriage is resolved justly through hard work.

Simplicity is the story's strength and weakness. Shinji and Hatsue at times feel more like ideals: youth, passion, and innocence than true characters. They perfectly follow the moral codes: refusing to engage in premarital sex, and Hatsue, in particular, submits to the will of her father without rebellion. Yet their sincerity gives the novel a charm. The novel’s effectiveness lies in its emotional clarity --- Shinji does not suffer from neurosis, self-alienation--- but instead he loves Hatsue; he works; he suffers; he wins.

The prose style of the book, a combination of Weatherby's translation skills and Mishima's original intent, is simply fitting. The prose is short and simple and presents the important facts without over-description. Mishima concretely describes boats, landforms, and anything in-between. The book proceeds with restraint and directness without any commentary from the author. The book is easy to fall into due to a lack of structural difficulties.

The novel admires discipline, endurance, and traditional social order. Mishima presents the island almost as a moral refuge from modern life. Even conflict arrives quietly and resolves without bitterness. Like the Old man and the Sea, the book has received criticism for its simplicity. Both novels derive much of their power from elemental storytelling rather than psychological complexity. Their protagonists are defined less by introspection than by endurance, labor, and dignity. It doesn't have a gripping moral development. Instead, it describes an idyllic society rooted in tradition which relieves the reader from moral disquiet and ambiguity, and complexity, orients him. The novel must be praised for its own particular honesty.