Summary
While Ono eats dinner with his family, his new son-in-law Taro Saito begins to tell a story about a slow coworker who has been nicknamed "The Tortoise." Ono announces that he, too, once knew someone with the same nickname. The rest of the table is unimpressed, and Ono concludes that the nickname, and the role, must be almost universal. He reflects that he doesn't have a lot of respect for "the tortoises of the world." This is interesting and somewhat ironic, considering that he once offered the Tortoise a job at Moriyama's studio based on his admiration for the Tortoise's slow, careful process. Now, though, he explains that this slowness is surely a sign of untrustworthiness. Furthermore, he says, tortoises choose not to take stances. They are the opposite of someone like Akira Sugimura, whose ambitiousness caused his downfall—and are less admirable because they avoid downfall by avoiding risk. While he was once close with the Tortoise, Ono tells us, this closeness was a strange and unequal one, which stemmed from a pattern of Ono defending the Tortoise against cruelty from others. He recalls that the Tortoise treated him with a reverent gratefulness that exceeded what he was owed.
However, nobody mocked the Tortoise for painting slowly at Moriyama's—in fact, the studio was split into two general factions, slow painters and faster ones. The slow ones called the fast ones "engineers" in gentle mockery of their speed, and the fast ones called the slow ones "backwarders," in reference to the annoying habit of backing up to look at one's canvas and hitting the person behind you. Because most people at the studio tended to do this at least occasionally, though, they often split up and worked in separate rooms. Both Ono and the Tortoise liked working in the villa's unused kitchen, which Ono describes in detail as a grand room with a dirt floor and plenty of places to hang and place materials. One day, Ono and the Tortoise stood facing each other and painting. The Tortoise noted that Ono's painting must be important, since he has requested privacy for it. Ono then explains, in an aside to the reader, that artists at the villa would sometimes request privacy while working on something particularly important, insisting that nobody view the work so that they would be free of outside pressure and influence.
Back in the villa's kitchen, the Tortoise speaks about his admiration for all of Ono's work, and Ono wonders aloud what he will think of the current painting. He then asks the Tortoise whether he is interested in trying any "new approaches." The Tortoise is mystified by this idea, and Ono tells him about his feeling that he must create important, unique works of art that will make "a significant contribution to the people of our nation." The Tortoise's response makes clear that he doesn't quite understand: he says that he tries new approaches regularly, but only recently have they begun to work, since Moriyama has begun to show more interest in his art. Ono decides to reintroduce the topic later. He never gets around to this, though, because one day he wakes up and discovers the Tortoise in the kitchen, acting strange. The Tortoise seems to have been looking at Ono's half-finished painting. He asks Ono whether the painting is a joke, and Ono replies that it is no joke. In fact, he says, he will be painting like this regularly in the future, and hopes to show the painting to Moriyama. The Tortoise, in horror, calls Ono a traitor and leaves the room. Now, Ono tells us about the painting that shocked the Tortoise so much, which was titled “Complacency.” He was inspired to create it while walking with Matsuda. We recall that, at this point in Ono’s life, he and Matsuda had met fairly recently, when Matsuda approached Ono and asked to discuss ideas with him. On the day in question, Matsuda and Ono were walking to meet some of Matsuda’s colleagues. Matsuda stops during the walk and remarks upon an interesting view that is available from their vantage point. This view is of a poor neighborhood full of crumbling structures. Matsuda explains that, as people in the surrounding countryside sink into poverty, they tend to come and live in this shantytown. Ono remarks that he’d like to do something to alleviate the suffering there, and Matsuda accuses him of sentimentality before instructing him to smell the strong scent of sewage wafting from the district. He mentions that powerful men rarely set foot there, including artists. Ono hints that he would like to walk in the district, and the two men walk down the bridge into it. It’s a hot day, exacerbating the smell and the flies. The area is crowded with adults, children, and animals. People live in stall-like curtained-off structures. At one point Ono and Matsuda pass some boys holding sticks, and Ono guesses that they have been torturing an animal, though he can’t tell.
The image of the boys sticks in his head, though, and it is one part of the "Complacency" painting, although he paints the boys looking brave and warrior-like, instances associated with samurai. This image is combined with one of wealthy men laughing at a bar, and the entire thing is outlined in the shape of the Japanese coast, with the word "Complacency" written prominently. It also reads "But the young are ready to fight for their dignity." Ono says that some features of the work will be familiar to those of us who know his later painting "Eyes to the Horizon," which was well-known at least in his city. This later painting was even more explicitly a commentary on current events, featuring politicians' uncertain faces and marching soldiers with a message reading "No time for cowardly talking. Japan must move forward." Ono says that he's fully aware that "Eyes to the Horizon" was full of outdated sentiments, and he's not afraid to admit that he made offensive work in the past. In any case, he says, the fact that he met with Matsuda that day speaks to how much he enjoyed his company, since the two had very different opinions. He mentions a meeting of theirs at a bar, which Ono found to be somewhat lowbrow but where Matsuda seemed comfortable. At the bar, the two argue about whether or not artists are naive. Matsuda brings up an idea of Ono's, which seems to involve getting groups of artists to sell paintings for charity, and which Matsuda thinks is hopelessly naive. Ono pushes back, but in the end, Matsuda tells him that too many artists hide from the real world, and that Ono himself is one of these artists. Matsuda challenges Ono to tell him who Karl Marx is, and though Ono pretends to know, his answer (that Marx was a leader of the Russian Revolution) is incorrect. Matsuda tells Ono that small charity projects for local communities won't do the job—what's needed to fix Japan, which is run by greedy businessmen and politicians, is for artists to engage with bigger ideas. Ono replies that artists can and should do nothing but strive to capture fleeting beauty; Matsuda says in turn that artists can be a part of a wider movement to return Japan to tradition, stability, and the rule of the emperor. Japan, Matsuda says, needs to assume its rightful position in the world, forming an empire like the British have.
Ono, though, believes that the Tortoise reacted the way he did to the painting not because of its political statements— which the Tortoise probably didn't understand anyway—but because its aesthetic features looked nothing like the ones they were taught under Moriyama. Regardless, Ono understood afterward that his ideas of art had changed too much from Moriyama's, and he felt prepared by the time the two spoke about it in a nearby pavilion, in the Takami gardens. The two had spent a typical day together and arrived in the pavilion, often decorated with lanterns which happened to be unlit. Ono remarks that he had his own last conversation with Kuroda in this very same spot. In the pavilion, Ono's teacher asks Ono to light the lanterns, and asks what has been bothering him. Ono casually replies that he is missing some paintings. Moriyama reveals that he has the paintings, muses that Ono has been "exploring curious avenues," and says that experimentation is good for a young artist provided it eventually comes to an end. In a conversation that starts euphemistically and becomes more direct, it emerges that Moriyama has taken several of Ono's paintings and does not plan on giving them back. Moreover, he will not support Ono's career in any way if he leaves the villa. Ono repeatedly emphasizes the positive impact that his time at the villa has had on him as an artist, but the conversation becomes more and more hostile, with Moriyama eventually asking Ono for the two prized paintings that Ono has kept hidden away. Ono refuses to hand over these paintings. To the reader, he adds that while Moriyama's behavior seems harsh, it was understandable—though, indeed, regrettable.
He fluidly slips into a memory of waiting outside Kuroda's house, smelling something burning on a cold winter morning before the war broke out. Within this flashback, a policeman answers the door and informs Ono that Kuroda has been taken in for questioning. Ono is shocked and combative, especially when he hears Kuroda's mother crying inside. He reveals his identity to the officer and explains that he is the person who has informed on Kuroda, as one of his duties for the Committee on Unpatriotic Activities. Ono has not expected his actions to have such disturbing results. He walks through the house, which has been ransacked and where Kuroda's mother is also undergoing questioning, to a yard, where the police have built a bonfire and are burning paintings. Ono repeats that he only wanted the police to come and talk to Kuroda, for Kuroda's own benefit, but the police retort that the situation is now in the hands of higher authorities and that Ono must leave. The officers more or less force Ono out of Kuroda's house.
This, though, is not relevant, Ono says. He has gotten sidetracked while describing his dinner at Taro and Noriko's apartment. At dinner, Taro speaks about the high morale at his firm. Ono questions the firm's decision to push out its old leadership, but Taro believes that it was necessary to turn over the management to younger people. Indeed, Taro says, the Americans who now exert so much influence have a lot to teach the Japanese about liberal democracy. Ono's daughters agree that Japan is facing a bright future for the first time in years, and Ono concedes, bitterly, that young people do indeed have a lot to feel optimistic about. Ichiro, after charmingly announcing that he will one day be head of the electrics company his father works for, asks whether any sake remains in the flask. He is politely disappointed when he finds out that the flask is, in fact, empty. At Ichiro's bedtime, Ono gets a chance to talk to his grandson alone. He tells Ichiro not to be upset about missing the opportunity to try sake, since he will be old enough to drink it soon. Ichiro tells Ono not to worry either, since worry prevents old people from sleeping, which can cause them to get sick and die. Ichiro makes sure that Ono will be coming to the station the next day to say goodbye when Ichiro and Setsuko leave town.
Afterward, Ono reemerges into the apartment, feeling annoyed about a conversation he'd had with Setsuko that morning. He tries to prove a point to Setsuko by asking Noriko's husband, Taro, about his father. Ono says that he regrets not befriending Dr. Saito sooner, since the two of them were distantly acquainted. He repeats himself until Taro gives the answer he's been waiting for—namely, that it is indeed a shame, given that each man knew how distinguished the other's career had been. Setsuko, though, seems to be ignoring the conversation. This prompts Ono to describe the earlier conversation with Setsuko that he found so irritating. He orients us in Kawabe Park. While there, Setsuko and Ono discuss Noriko's successful marriage. Ono remarks that Setsuko's advice last year—namely, to take certain precautions during the marriage negotiation—had been wise. Setsuko claims not to know what he is talking about, and it seems that the two of them have had this conversation before. Ono says that he worked hard to ensure that his career would not negatively impact Noriko's engagement, and he references her miai, when he spoke explicitly about his regrettable career choices. Setsuko replies that both Noriko and the Saitos found his behavior that night bewildering, and, indeed, she is bewildered by what Noriko has said about it.
Noriko turns the conversation to Yukio Naguchi. She says that, in a conversation the night before, Taro had mentioned Ono's bringing up Naguchi. She is concerned by Ono's allusion to Naguchi, since she believes that her father has been depressed since retiring. Ono says that there is no risk of him committing suicide, but Setsuko plows on, saying that, while Naguchi's music was used with regrettable results during the war, Ono has no such history. After all, he is a painter, and his work was not used at war. Ono replies that he acknowledges the ways in which he used his influence irresponsibly. Setsuko, though, believes that he is overestimating how much damage his paintings did, and, essentially, how much anybody outside the art world cared about them. The two then argue about whether or not Dr. Saito knew of Ono at all before Noriko and Taro's engagement. Ono maintains that Saito was aware of his career, but Setsuko is skeptical. The two of them then discussed other things, Ono remarks in an aside to the reader, but he knows that she was wrong about Dr. Saito, at the very least. After all, he says, he has no doubt that he remembers that first meeting with Dr. Saito, while Ono stood outside of his new house. He emphasizes to us that he remembers the event clearly, and that it must, therefore, be Setsuko who is wrong.
Analysis
This section of the book is its most exciting and emotionally intense; its climactic moment takes place over the course of these scenes. However, it isn't exactly clear what the climactic moment is. Ishiguro purposely muddles the reader's expectations of a traditional novelistic structure, in which a single conflict builds up to a climactic confrontation. He does this by filtering the story through an unreliable narrator. Ono sets us up to prepare for one kind of climactic confrontation, but then we end up with at least two, the second of which is, in a certain sense, a confrontation between Ono and his own reader—the "you" to whom he has been narrating all along.
To put it more simply, Ono presents his narrative as one of a courageous artist who has made polarizing and disastrous decisions with his work. By alluding to his falling-out with Kuroda throughout the novel, but avoiding any direct information about it, Ono sets us up to believe that the falling-out was of a specific nature. The reader assumes that Kuroda turned against his former teacher because he disapproved of Ono's artistic choices. But, when we actually witness the final confrontation between Kuroda and Ono, dramatic though it is, it is strangely hollow and of a very different nature than we've been led to expect. For one thing, Kuroda isn't actually present. We never get to hear his side of the story, making us feel acutely that the conflict between him and Ono remains mysterious and unresolved. More importantly, we learn that this isn't about Kuroda disapproving of Ono's choices. Rather, Ono has informed on Kuroda, using completely non-artistic means to make his opinions known. We have to suspect that Ono informed on Kuroda partly because he wanted to feel powerful. This seems likely because Ono acts so shocked when the police officers turn him away: he's used what power he has to inform on Kuroda, but is dismayed when the authorities take advantage of his information without considering his preferences. In other words, this isn't about Ono's artistic principles, as he has led us to believe. Ishiguro drives this point home with the scene in which Ono stares at the bonfire full of burning paintings and asks whether the police are authorized to burn them: what could make it clearer that Ono has sacrificed artistic passion to a petty desire for power?
The prose in the scene at Kuroda's house, though, contrasts with the empty-feeling content of the moment. Everything about the scene's imagery and diction makes us feel that it is the book's climax. It's full of sensory information that we don't typically get from this book, such as olfactory images of a burning smell and aural images of Kuroda's mother sobbing. It's an action-packed scene full of physical movement and sharp dialogue between Ono and the police. This action-packed, image-heavy style makes us feel that this is certainly a moment of climax, but when it's over, so much still feels unresolved. It's as if Ono hasn't yet come to terms with the reality of his legacy and with the fact that his regrets have little to do with his art. The more earth-shaking climactic face-off actually comes in the form of a quotidian scene: the final dialogue between Ono and Setsuko.
This scene is conveyed with the flat, matter-of-fact tone and simple diction that characterize most of this novel. This style doesn't prepare us for a hugely important moment; it instead makes us think that we're going to see just another casual family conversation. It's certainly a contrast with the scene at Kuroda's house. That scene had a more florid style because Ono feels that it's a climactic moment. In the narrative that he shares with himself and others, that's the scene that is worthy of such language. But, in mimicry of the way that groundbreaking moments often occur without fanfare or warning, the crucial conversation between Ono and his daughter happens without linguistic fanfare or warning. All that happens is that Setsuko nonchalantly tells her father that he needn't worry; he was only a moderately successful artist, not a controversial face of Japanese nationalism. By saying this, Setsuko robs her father of the narrative he clings to. According to this narrative, he has lost his sense of purpose, his wife and son, and his youth because he stuck to his principles as an artist. What we learn, when Setsuko sets her father straight, is that Ono's artistic principles weren't the thing that caused such harm. In fact, he was hardly relevant at all, and the moment of his biggest impact came when he informed on his friend for mundane reasons. Though Setsuko aims to comfort her father, she actually leaves him bereft. This scene, then, is the book's real climax. It is the moment when Ono must confront his family, himself, and his reader, facing the reality that his life has had little relevance but contained mistakes and loss.
As a matter of fact, by the end of this section, it starts to seem as if Ono's biggest problem is simply growing old. It's seemed for a while that a certain version of this is happening. He clashes with young people, namely his daughters and their husbands. But before, we took for granted his claim to have a problem with specific viewpoints and stances held by the younger generation, generally concerning patriotism and the war. Now that we know about how Ono invented a narrative to make himself seem relevant, the deeper problem emerges. Ono resents young people because he feels afraid of growing old. His wife—the companion of his younger years—has died. His son, the person most likely to carry on his legacy, is dead too. He feels understandably alone and afraid.
In light of that concern about aging, the theme of generational strife and generational cycles looks different. It feels both scarier and more comforting. Ishiguro makes sure that we are aware of how people repeat themselves from generation to generation. Ono's father asks for his son's paintings in order to burn them, and the conversation that Ono has with Moriyama is a precise echo of that previous one with his father. The older generation, Ishiguro seems to be saying, always wants the younger one to conform, and will do their best to destroy signs of nonconformity. Ono tragically repeats this mistake when he informs on Kuroda. Though he doesn't personally burn the paintings—the irony would be too painful for him, after all—he creates circumstances that lead to the police burning Kuroda's paintings, not to mention harming him and his mother. However, Ono's interactions with his grandson hint at a redemption and a break from this destructive cycle. In a way, Ichiro becomes Ono's second chance to leave a legacy, which he can no longer do with his son or with Kuroda. The two of them genuinely care for each other. As a matter of fact, Ichiro looks out with his grandfather just as much as Ono looks out for Ichiro. Ichiro, for instance, wants to make sure that Ono doesn't worry so that he gets enough sleep. This healthy and loving relationship between people of such different ages makes us feel hope that the old and young can care for each other rather than hurt each other.
Finally, we cannot ignore this section's emphasis on the role of art. It seems damning that, in the end, Ono's art did not cause significant harm to anyone. After all, he worked on his art his whole life, but in the end it was an ill-thought-out personal betrayal that caused his break with Kuroda. Maybe, we have to consider, Matsuda was right, and art isn't capable of changing things, for the better or for the worse. Then again, it's hard to completely dismiss the possibility that art can change minds. Ono describes his painting "Complacency" with such rousing and detailed language that we feel the stakes are high. He formally analyzes his own work, connecting a scene of poverty and squalor to images of Japanese history. In this moment, we feel sure that art is capable of changing the world around it. Ishiguro doesn't seem to want to answer the question definitively. Instead, he gives us examples of how art can mean different things in different moments.
