THE NARRATIVE LINE OF SNOW COUNTRY, KAWABATA YASUNARI. I. ARRIVAL AT THE SNOW COUNTRY HOT-SPRINGS, EARLY WINTER. Train station at. Download Read Snow Country (Yasunari Kawabata) Ebook Free PDF Online Donwload Here tvnovellas.info?book= Yukiguni by Kawabata, Yasunari, , Berkley edition, in English.
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Snow Country. Home · Snow Country Author: Yasunari Kawabata. downloads Views 9MB Size Report. DOWNLOAD PDF. Nobel Prize winner Yasunari Kawabata's Snow Country is widely considered to be the writer's masterpiece: a powerful tale of wasted love set. Shimamura is tired of the bustling city. He takes the train through the snow to the mountains of the west coast of Japan, to meet with a geisha he believes he.
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WordPress Shortcode. Jerry M Morning , Paper goods machine setter at J. Gill Company Follow. Published in: Full Name Comment goes here. Are you sure you want to Yes No. Be the first to like this. The final scene only brings the inevitable. We know, as Komako staggers from the burning warehouse with Yoko in her arms, that Komako and Shimamura have parted.
Shimamura will go back to the city and continue to play the cold dilettante, while Komako will, as she herself has said, "go pleasantly to seed" in the mountains. Yoko is the burden she must bear, and the burden is made heavier by the fact that the two women have twice been rivals in love, once, in a way never clearly defined for us, with the dying Yukio, again with Shimamura. Little of this is stated directly.
We are not even told whether Yoko is alive or dead at the end of the novel. If the reader finds the last few pages puzzling, however, he should remember that everything has already been implicitly suggested. The novel has in effect ended with Shimamura listening to the sound of the bell in the teakettle. The fire scene, beautifully written though it is, only emphasizes a point that has already been made. Snow Country is perhaps Kawabata's masterpiece.
He has found in Shimamura's love affair the perfect symbol for a denial of love, and he has in the woman Komako and in the shadowy beauty of the snow country fit subjects for the haiku-like flashes that bring the denial forth. And, in the final analysis, the very success of the novel becomes a sort of affirmation of the humanity that is being denied.
The earth lay white under the night sky. The train pulled up at a signal stop. A girl who had been sitting on the other side of the car came over and opened the window in front of Shimamura.
The snowy cold poured in. Leaning far out the window, the girl called to the station master as though he were a great distance away.
The station master walked slowly over the snow, a lantern in his hand. His face was buried to the nose in a muffler, and the flaps of his cap were turned down over his ears. It's that cold, is it, thought Shimamura. Low, barracklike buildings that might have been railway dormitories were scattered here and there up the frozen slope of the mountain.
The white of the snow fell away into the darkness some distance before it reached them. On your way back? It's gotten cold again. Thank you for all you've done. This is no place for a young boy. You'll teach him what he needs to know, won't you. We'll be busier from now on, with the snow and all.
Last year we had so much that the trains were always being stopped by avalanches, and the whole town was kept busy cooking for them. My brother said in his letter that he wasn't even wearing a sweater yet.
The young ones start drinking when it gets cold, and the first thing you know they're over there in bed with colds. I've been going to the doctor. In all its high resonance it seemed to come echoing back across the snowy night. The girl was still leaning out the window when the train pulled away from the station. Yoko closed the window and pressed her hands to her red cheeks.
Three snowplows were waiting for the heavy snows here on the Border Range. There was an electric avalanche-warning system at the north and south entrances to the tunnel.
Five thousand workers were ready to clear away the snow, and two thousand young men from the volunteer fire-departments could be mobilized if they were needed. Yoko's brother would be working at this signal stop, so soon to be buried under the snow-somehow that fact made the girl more interesting to Shimamura. Shimamura of course had no way of being sure what her relationship was to the man with her.
They acted rather like a married couple. The man was clearly ill, however, and illness shortens the distance between a man and a woman. The more earnest the ministrations, the more the two come to seem like husband and wife.
A girl taking care of a man far older than she, for all the world like a young mother, can from a distance be taken for his wife. But Shimamura in his mind had cut the girl off from the man with her and decided from her general appearance and manner that she was unmarried. And then, because he had been looking at her from a strange angle for so long, emotions peculiarly his own had perhaps colored his judgment.
It had been three hours earlier. In his boredom, Shimamura stared at his left hand as the forefinger bent and unbent. Only this hand seemed to have a vital and immediate memory of the woman he was going to see.
The more he tried to call up a clear picture of her, the more his memory failed him, the farther she faded away, leaving him nothing to catch and hold.
In the midst of this uncertainty only the one hand, and in particular the forefinger, even now seemed damp from her touch, seemed to be pulling him back to her from afar. Taken with the strangeness of it, he brought the hand to his face, then quickly drew a line across the misted-over window.
A woman's eye floated up before him. He almost called out in his astonishment. But he had been dreaming, and when he came to himself he saw that it was only the reflection in the window of the girl opposite. Outside it was growing dark, and the lights had been turned on in the train, transforming the window into a mirror. The mirror had been clouded over with steam until he drew that line across it. The one eye by itself was strangely beautiful, but, feigning a traveler's weariness and putting his face to the window as if to look at the scenery outside, he cleared the steam from the rest of the glass.
The girl leaned attentively forward, looking down at the man before her. Shimamura could see from the way her strength was gathered in her shoulders that the suggestion of fierceness in her eyes was but a sign of an intentness that did not permit her to blink.
The man lay with his head pillowed at the window and his legs bent so that his feet were on the seat facing, beside the girl.