If on a sunny day you climb the steep path leading up from the little wooden bridge still referred to around here as the "Bridge of Hesitation," you will not have to walk far before the roof of my house becomes visible between the tops of two gingko trees.
This first sentence of the book tells us a great deal about the novel's narrator and style, making it a particularly famous line. For one thing, the line turns us on early to the fact that we have an observant narrator with strong visual perception. He describes the route to his house as an artist would, attending to, for instance, the moment at which it comes into view. At the same time, this sentence lets us know that Ono is a man in the throes of uncertainty. Though he tries to project an air of authority here as he does elsewhere, giving instructions and showing that he is knowledgeable, his syntax says otherwise— the sentence begins with the word "if," a harbinger of our narrator's feelings of confusion and his inability to say whether anything is true beyond a doubt. The mention of the Bridge of Hesitation at this early point lets us know that the location will be important, but also hints at Ono's own hesitant attitude. Finally, the sentence is in the second person, which forces us to immediately come to terms with the fact that we, too, are a kind of character in this book, invoked through the word "you" to witness Ono's past and listen to his justifications of it.
"Ichiro," I said, more firmly, "wait a moment and listen. It's more interesting, more interesting by far, to pretend to be someone like Lord Yoshitsune. Shall I tell you why?"
After Ono's small grandson explains that he is pretending to be a cowboy, Ono reacts in a way that seems oddly desperate and dismayed. His investment in Ichiro's choice of pretend game has little to do with which figures he thinks will be more interesting to his grandson. Instead, he is upset because he associates cowboys with American culture and the American occupation. Since he already believes that his son-in-law, and the younger generations more generally, are unpatriotic and bitter about Japan's role in the war, he is particularly alarmed by the idea that unpatriotic values are being passed on to his grandson. He encourages Ichiro to pretend to be a Japanese hero, like Lord Yoshitsune (a Medieval Japanese military figure). His firmness and repetitiveness in the above quote show that he is invested in Ichiro's choices to an alarming degree, so much so that he is unable to disguise his feelings.
It seemed to me that there was something unnaturally deliberate in the way my daughter uttered those words. Perhaps I imagined it, but then a father comes to notice any small inflexions in his daughter's speech.
While talking to Noriko about her marriage negotiations and her run-in with Jiro Miyake, to whom she was previously engaged, Ono suspects that his daughter has a premeditated motive for the things she says to him. Generally, Ono is suspicious of his daughters, since he is convinced that he is hated by much of Japanese society and that his daughters are aware of this. As the book continues, we realize that this might not be true. However, Ono does an excellent job, for a while, of convincing the reader that he is indeed detested and that his daughters are working in concert against him. This quote showcases some of the ways that Ono convinces us of his accuracy. Rather than speaking in exaggerated or overly confident statements that make him appear deluded, Ono hedges and reconsiders, noting that he might have merely imagined his daughter's attitude, or that it only "seemed" that she spoke unnaturally. By speaking in a cautious tone, Ono cements our trust and convinces us that his suspicions must be correct after all.
"Our president clearly felt responsible for certain undertakings we were involved in during the war. Two senior men were already dismissed by the Americans, but our president obviously felt it was not enough. His act was an apology on behalf of us all to the families of those killed in the war."
This conversation between Jiro Miyake and Ono is the first time that suicide is mentioned in the novel. The man Miyake brings up has a few alarming similarities to Ono: he was well-respected before the war, active in getting Japan into the war, and guilt-ridden afterwards. Therefore, when Jiro tells this story about the man's suicide, we immediately wonder whether Ono is contemplating suicide, or whether this information will cause him to do so. This story raises the stakes of Ono's psychological pain, showing that his might be a life-or-death situation. At the same time, Miyake's casual acceptance of this bizarre event shows how tumultuous, painful, and unusual this period of Japanese history was. Ono's struggles, Ishiguro reminds us, are part of a far broader social and political event.
"In any case, there is surely no great shame in mistakes made in the best of faith. It is surely a thing far more shameful to be unable or unwilling to acknowledge them."
This statement, which Ono makes over dinner at Noriko's miai, summarizes the attitude that eventually helps him heal from his traumatic experiences. The Saitos, listening to Ono, are confused by his passionate argument, since, as it turns out, they are unaware of any untoward behavior in Ono's past. But Ono has sincere regrets about his artistic and political activities, even if those regrets are completely unknown or appear minimal to others. Though he makes this argument in order to convince the Saitos, he repeats it in various forms to himself for the remainder of the novel, showing that he has internalized the idea. While he might continue to wish that he'd acted differently in the past, Ono knows that he always acted out of moral conviction. This isn't a perfect source of comfort to him, but it's as good a source of comfort as he can find.
I realize that Akira Sugimura's name is rarely heard these days, but let me point out that not so long ago he was unquestionably one of the most powerful and influential men in the city.
Ono spends much of this book's early pages describing Akira Sugimura and his family, from whom Ono bought his beautiful house. It is clear early on that he admires Sugimura and is honored to have been chosen as the new owner of the Sugimura house. When he brings Sugimura up again, though, much later in the novel, while describing Sugimura's plans to revamp Kawabe park, it becomes clear that his admiration is rooted in a sense of identification and familiarity. For one thing, Sugimura is a respected figure from the past—before American cultural and military dominance, before the younger generation displaced Ono's. Therefore, Ono feels a certain loyalty to him and to the social structure he represented. For another, we learn in this section of the book that Sugimura lost all of his money later in life. By defending another person whose social standing took a downturn, Ono implicitly defends himself, since his own stature took a hit after the war.
I confess I take a strange comfort from observing children inherit these resemblances from other members of the family, and it is my hope that my grandson will retain them into his adult years.
This quote is a particularly heartbreaking one. While looking at Ichiro, Ono notices a resemblance between his grandson and various other family members, including his dead son, Kenji. Rather than say directly that he takes comfort in seeing Kenji's features reproduced, though, Ono hedges around the issue. He talks about the comfort he gains from seeing family resemblances generally, giving no special attention to Ichiro's particular resemblance to Kenji. His diction is striking, too. He "confesses" to the enjoyment he finds in these resemblances, as if afraid to admit to himself or to the reader that he is comforted by them. Ono rarely speaks directly about his grief for his son and wife, though he does so slightly more towards the end of the book, as if he is beginning to cope with their deaths. Here, though, we see that he can acknowledge his grief only obliquely.
In theory, of course, a good teacher should accept this tendency—indeed, welcome it as a sign that he has brought his pupil to a point of maturity. In practice, however, the emotions involved can be quite complicated.
Ono says this in reference to his own old teacher, Moriyama, but the sentiment reverberates throughout the novel, since it applies equally to his own relationship with Kuroda. Every student/teacher relationship in this novel is fraught, particularly if the student in question is unusually talented. Here, Ono makes clear that he's aware of how fraught these relationships can be, yet he cannot offer a solution. It seems instead like a cyclical, inevitable part of life. All teachers, Ono argues, want students to succeed, and one aspect of success is the ability to think independently and distinctly. However, Ono points out, drawing on his own experiences, teachers are often offended when students begin to think independently and abandon their doctrines and methods. Though he knows that this tends to happen, Ono cannot avoid this fate when he meets it, both as a student in need of independence and as a teacher desiring loyalty.
When I am an old man, when I look back over my life and see I have devoted it to the task of capturing the unique beauty of that world, I believe I will be well satisfied. And no man will make me believe I've wasted my time.
Here, Moriyama presents one vision of art, and establishes himself as the passionate defender of this ideal. To Moriyama, art is supposed to record what is most beautiful, especially if it is rare or temporary. In this quote, he shows us that this stance comes from a place of passion and conviction—he is no less serious than those who devote themselves to political art. The statement is particularly resonant in the context of Ono's memories, since he is now an old man with many regrets. Unable to completely choose between Moriyama's ideal of beautiful art and Matsuda's ideal of world-changing art, Ono constantly feels that he has wasted his time, or worse. Moriyama presents an enviable picture of a person completely self-assured, with an unalterable set of principles.
"But Father's work had hardly to do with these larger matters of which we are speaking. Father was simply a painter. He must stop believing he has done some great wrong."
These words of Setsuko's represent a climactic turning point in this novel. Suddenly, we must question everything we have been told by our narrator. To an outsider like Setsuko, Ono has not behaved in a particularly reprehensible way. From a relatively objective point of view, as compared to her father's narration, Setsuko shows that very few people think about Ono at all—either with admiration, as he claims people once did, or with censure, as he believes they do now. This moment is revelatory for both Ono and the reader. Still, Setsuko's information applies only to Ono's reputation. She cannot address or solve the shame he feels about his betrayal of Kuroda, for example. Therefore, the quote speaks to the difference between Ono's personal feelings of shame and loss, and his completely unremarkable place in history.
"One can only wish these young people well."
The concluding line of An Artist of the Floating World summarizes the genuine shift in its protagonist's attitude over the course of the novel. After the war, Ono feels a deep alienation from his daughters and from the younger generation in Japan generally. He resents them and is convinced that they feel bitterly towards him and others of his generation. To an extent, to lend legitimacy to his feelings of loneliness and futility, Ono even invents aspects of his past that justify the distance he feels from younger people. By the end of the novel, though, Ono has reckoned with these feelings of distance and come to terms with them. When he sees young people talking at an office building, in the exact spot where he used to drink with friends, Ono does not feel threatened. Rather, he notices that the manner of these young people resembles those of his old friends. In this moment, Ono expresses his desire for the new generation to succeed, without irony or equivocation.
