Lust is in the air
In Japan, there are some extraordinary authors on this subject. Their stories contain sex scenes, not too dense because they aren’t pornographic, but the feeling of lust is ever-present from page to page. I’m not sure if that craving is purely carnal. Deep within the characters, there seems to be a burning desire that no amount of passionate nights can satisfy. And that nameless longing becomes an extension of them. They carry it around, never stop searching for a fire that can reach beyond their flesh to the core of their souls and warm them from within.
That craving is strong enough to grip my mind, yet at the same time, so obscure it seems nonexistent. I never figure out where it comes from, or which syntax structures give life to it. I just sense its presence in many different genres, including those I never expected, such as horror and essays.
If I may compare, it’s different from the yearning of Western Gothic literature. While both agreed that humans had desires, Gothic authors portrayed it in a more eerie way, as if it came with the lurking mist from dark moors, while 20th-century Japanese writers suggested it was a voiceless but powerful call emanating from the depths of each individual. They depicted it without mentioning it. Or, more accurately, they spent the entire work trying to shape the amorphous.
So, did they succeed? I think so. Although the characters’ journeys to realize their desires are often tinged with hopelessness, I find beauty worth admiring in such stories. “Within that person lies a feeling of possessing something of immense value, transcending their era and social standing.” This is Suzuki T. Daisetsu‘s explanation of wabi in his book, Zen and Japanese Culture, but it perfectly captures my impression of classic Japanese literature. I have nothing in common with the characters in the stories, and I don’t fully understand their psychological development. Yet, I see them as a reflection of myself. Their thoughts coincide with things I often ponder. Their stubborn refusal to compromise, even at the cost of dire consequences for themselves and those around, is a trait I’m not particularly proud of, and also haven’t found a way to change. One anime series aptly called such works Blue Literature, meaning stories with a strong connection to life regardless of the era. Reading those pieces, I realized not much has changed. From old times to the present day, we have always been connected by the sensitivity in our souls and the desires that smolder day and night.
Some authors and their stories that inspired me to write this article:
- Yasunari Kawabata: novel Snow Country
- Yukio Mishima: novel Life for Sale
- Keikichi Osaka: short story collection The Ghosts of Ginza Street
- Edogawa Ranpo: short story The Human Chair and novel The Demon of the Lonely Isle
- Tanizaki Junichiro: essay In Praise of Shadows
- The anime series Aoi Bungaku Series (Blue Literature) by Madhouse studio
At this point, I’m sure you’re somewhat disappointed: this article isn’t raunchy, and even the works that inspired me aren’t erotic, especially the essays on the aesthetics of Junichiro Tanizaki, yet I’ve given it such a misleading title. Well, I apologize, but I’ll stick with my title choice. To me, these stories share a common theme: they show that humans are not entirely in control of ourselves. We are always driven by something intensely powerful deep within our hearts, something like lust. And as I mentioned earlier, this lust isn’t always for physical gratification; in many cases, it’s a compass showing you what the soul really, really wants.