| Title | : | Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 0802134637 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9780802134639 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Paperback |
| Number of Pages | : | 189 |
| Publication | : | First published January 1, 1958 |
Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids Reviews
-
Lord of the Flies by William Golding came out in 1954. It was his first novel and he was 43 when it was first published. Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids by Kenzaburo Oe first came out in 1958. It was also his first novel and it came out when he was only 23 years old. Oe says that his major influences were Mark Twain, Selma Lagerlof and the French writer, Francois Rabelais. He did not mention that he had read and was inspired by Golding’s work.
Both of these gentlemen were Nobel Prize for Literature winners. During the award ceremonies, the Nobel committee read the rationale as part of bestowing the honor:For Golding in 1983: ”for his novels which, with the perspicuity of realistic narrative art and the diversity and universality of myth, illuminate the human condition in the world of today"
For Oe in 1994: ”who with poetic force creates an imagined world, where life and myth condense to form a disconcerting picture of the human predicament today.”
I am sure that anybody who read both novels would see a lot of similarities. British vs Japanese boys. The British boys in the jungle while the Japanese boys in a far-flung village. Both were left alone to fend for themselves. The British boys, who were some of the survivors of the sunken ship amidst nuclear war, tried to govern themselves and in the process failed due to their self-imposed rules which are founded on ignorance (innocence), selfishness and savagery. The Japanese boys, who were sent there as part of the reformatory program of the government during WWII, have external tormentors: the villagers who had to flee and leave them behind because of the onslaught of plague. When the adult rescuers found the British boys in the island, they saved them. When the adult villagers went back after the plague they scrambled to cover their acts by further tormenting the poor Japanese boys.
In my opinion, the Nobel committee members who wrote their award rationale were correct. Both of these novels reflect the human condition or predicament of today. Whether self-imposed or from external factor, we are all facing some forms of challenges, disillusionment and fear.
However, both novels are dark, bleak, pessimistic and sad. They don’t provide any solution or even leave a streak of hope in the end. At least Golding presented a positive image of having the kids saved from the island. Oe has a bleaker ending with the boy narrator fleeing the village to an unknown destination. Although it is implied at the start of the novel that he survived, still the novel was outright dark and sad. I appreciate the honesty and the literary presentation of reality by these novels but I thought that it would have been better if these Nobel laureates left a clue on what to do to prevent these situations. Just a clue because I know that they were not social scientists who have all the exact solutions to many of our societal problems but just a hint so readers can deduce and build their conclusions on theirs.
This is my first book by Oe and I thought that I liked this better than the whimsical characters of Haruki Murakami or Banana Yoshimoto. It is darker than the love story of the upper class children in Book 1 of Yukio Mishima’s The Sea of Fertility. However, this gives me the more realistic picture of the contemporary Japanese literature that was previously only populated by images that Murakami and Yoshimoto created like fishes falling from the sky, camera zooming in from nowhere to peek into your mind, man sitting inside a well for no clear reason at all, Johnny Walker killing many cats, a ghost appearing above the river, or a man who sleeps continuously for 1 week without even urinating that I really envy because I have a weak bladder and I urinate twice every night disturbing my sleep.
To further see the other sides, I should read a Kabawata and a Soseki soon.
-
Audiobook….read by Edoardo Ballerini
…..5 hours and 37 minutes
I listened to this audiobook- while in my warm water cocoon of happiness…..(with much gratefulness I kid you not)…..
…..In ‘this’ book victimize, young boys don’t have warmth, water, a cacoon, or happiness.
“Being beaten … was only the beginning . . . “
“Nip the Buds, Shoot the kids”…. as the devastating -morbid-title suggests….
paints a disturbing grim universe . . .
one that was directly personal to the author - as he grew up in wartime.
Oe was only twenty three years old when he published this novel.
This was Kenzaburo Oe’s debut novel ….
….The Japanese Nobel Laureate author, died last month in March at the age of 88.
A group of boys (15 of them) from a reform school get stranded in the mountains during WWII in Japan and must face angry villagers.
When the plague broke out, the villagers ran ( they thought the boys were to blame for bringing the disease)….
The villagers blocked the boys inside the deserted town.
Beware….
this story is not with violence.
The boys were forced to take over their own destiny—and under nightmarish conditions… they had to grow up fast. They had to survive….
hunt for food and cook under hurting emotionally from abandonment issues.
No adult from the villages thought anyone would survive.
An unnamed protagonist (a delinquent not innocent by any means) took on a courageous leadership role of protecting his younger brother.
“I was only a child, tired, insanely angry, tearful, shivering with cold and hunger. Suddenly a wind blew up, carrying the sound of the villager’s’ footsteps growing nearer, closing in on me. I got up, clenching my teeth, and dashed into the deeper darkness between the trees and darker undergrowth”.
The ending is a bleak as it’s beginning…..
but the journey we take with Oe’s stark writing (emotionally gripping with a few visually violent graphic scenes), engages our thoughts about humanity philosophically and profoundly.
PHENOMENAL PROSE!!!!!
….the dark visuals with so much authority were some of the most beautiful sentences in the world.
My emotions—were burning….then freezing.
My head hurt. My heart ached.
“In the time of killing, that time of madness, we children may have been the only ones to develop a close solidarity”. -
Libro corto narrado en primera persona.
Ambientado en Japón en los últimos días de la IIGM, un grupo de niños es trasladado desde un reformatorio a un pueblo en las montañas.
El libro comienza mostrando la crueldad y dureza con que son tratados, no tanto por el carcelero que los traslada, sino por la sociedad. Son mostrados como unos apestados, unas bestias enjauladas que son exhibidas durante su travesía, a veces provocadores otras convertidos en objetos, "unos seres de otro planeta", a los que nadie quiere o puede hacerse cargo de ellos. Algunos serán pequeños rufianes que acabaron en el reformatorio por delitos cometidos, pero otros, como el hermano pequeño del narrador, simplemente son entregados porque su padre, un soldado, no puede hacerse cargo de él. Triste pérdida de esperanza de ser liberados por su famila, cuando ante el llamamiento antes del traslado nadie va a recogerlos.
Niños obligados a sobrevivir en muy duras condiciones, frío, hambre, golpes. Me impactó leer como tenían las manos los niños que daban de comer a los perros de los policías -pequeños dedos deformes-, que luego se dedicaban a escribir obscenidades en el suelo.
La hostilidad de la población contra los niños es una constante en el libro. ¿Será por las duras condiciones de vida y la carestía de los campesinos?, ¿Será la brutalidad de la guerra que se extiende a la población civil?, ¿Qué es lo que hace que los campesinos sean los más crueles en el trato a aquellos que no consideran sus iguales, que no forman parte de su comunidad, o que han sido marcados por el sistema como desertores, niños que intentan fugarse o simplemente han estado en un reformatorio? Realmente, ¿es necesaria esa máxima de arrancar el mal de raíz?
Vemos cómo la mirada inocente de los niños se posa con admiración en las partidas de cadetes militares encontradas durante el viaje. Desconocen el horror de la guerra, lo que representa matar a otra persona, y solo ven el brillo de sus uniformes.
No comparto o no entiendo esa visión del amor, ¿Una crítica al papel de la mujer en las relaciones de pareja?. Qué mal cuerpo me ha dejado el encuentro entre el protagonista y la niña.
Unos niños que llegado el momento son capaces de organizarse, convivir todos juntos en igualdad, sin discriminar por su condición sexual o de género: japoneses, coreanos esclavizados, refugiados, desertores.
Arrancad las semillas, fusilad a los niños, un alegato a la paz, la igualdad, a favor de los niños.
Creo que me he perdido o no he captado alguna cosa por desconocimiento de la cultura y de su historia, tampoco he encontrado una prosa especial ni poética y la traducción tampoco es que destaque.
Me ha resultado una lectura entretenida, algunos hechos crueles me han removido, aunque después de leer algún libro ambientado en Japón, China o Corea no me sorprenden y en su conjunto, el libro me aporta poco más que ese posible alegato escrito por el premio Nobel de literatura de 1994 cuando solo tenía 23 años.
Valoración: 7/10
Lectura: enero 2022 -
The lost boys disease. Rabbits caught in the headlights and there will be no more tricks disease. Dogs humping legs fall right off disease. Roaches who might be indestructible for better or for worse disease. But who are the roaches (for better, or for worse)? The Japanese reform school boys or the contributing to my already bad image of hateful villagers types? Indestructible, anyway. (We could see who scurried away when the lights come back on.)
The book blurb lies. The boys don't try to build lives while they are blockaded inside the village of the cats disease and rats disease and little girls gone mad beside their mama's dead body disease (it's called grief disease) and Korean slave boys disease (it's the disease of being born in the wrong place at the wrong time) and awol soldiers disease (at the wrong time and place). The warden will return (he makes the right time and place 'cause he's in charge). The warden is like "the man" in the certainty that they WILL be kept down. It's freedom if walking around a toxic waste dump without leg shackles is freedom. They are coming back in a minute with a bigger paddle between spankings freedom. Mariel, people who write back of book blurbs do not read the books they blurb.
I felt like Wendy in Peter Pan if she was mother of very dirty boys with filthy penises hanging out of their furry shorts all the day long. Or when my boy dogs start humping their chew toys and licking each others pee pees and butt holes during a brief respite of rowdy (sorta) play fighting. It's a weird feeling I have that if I ever had kids I'd have lots of filthy boys running around outside and they'd have fangs and sharp claws. The what it would be like to be a boy feeling is Wendy. They'd have slingshots, probably. It'd be a violent, never gonna grow up feeling. I don't feel like the adult in the weird feeling scenario (I was a dirty kid in Alabama making mud pies, collecting buckets of pissing toads, rattle snakes, nudity. What am I talking about? I was the girl version). Just sorta watching them with a perplexed look over all of the penis licking. These boys play with their penises a lot because they are there. That's probably why they did what they did to end up in reform school (one was a prostitute. Probably petty crime for the others). It was there and then they look up from the rough housing and find out they are in dirt that's never going to wash off. These boys wore lost boys outfits of raccoon disease and bear disease and squirrel disease. Touch it, get the disease. It's there. I'd be dying of the never going to grow up feeling before the disease did me off. The dirt that doesn't wash off. There will always be kids and there will always be adults that aren't really adults feeling. It's the waiting in the village. It's not a convincing illusion of freedom. They've been left with the diseases of the circle of life costumes because the adults are always adults and they are their vermin. It's not about a boy finding love (why are book jackets such liars? Why do they insist on missing the real feelings?!). It's a moment not to feel as dirty without ever feeling like there's going to be a tomorrow. Like if you've ever tried to distract yourself from something painful and remember the painful thing anyway. It's a weird feeling of dirt and animals playing roles if nature played its course to keep trying for those pitiful distractions. Does it play its course? The borrowed time (from whom? I feel the kid feeling that the time shouldn't belong to anyone. I guess that feeling is of unfairness).
There could be a goodreads drinking game for reviews of this book. Bitching about the translation? One drink. He wrote it when he was 23! Two drinks. A Lord of the Flies comparison take three drinks (every book about kids on their own is not Lord of the Flies! Dudes!). Mentioning that other reviewers complained about the bad translation, Lord of the Flies and that Oe was twenty three? Drink the rest of the bottle. If there was a drop left I'd say take another drink for assumptions based on Oe's biographical information (maybe but it's not necessary at all to say WWII or his home village).
You know what? The translation is not that bad. At first it's a little "What the fuck?" like watching an anime half way through a season and you don't know who is who (some animes are like that for all of the episodes). There are in-jokes, single and double entendres, sweaters and jackets and puns that were probably super hilarious in Japanese in this anime (okay, maybe just a whole lot of mentions of penises and assholes). With a little imagination you can stare too long and bend the words into different shapes. Sleep with one eye open and the other staring at the sun. I kinda grew to like the weird sentences. I like that I couldn't predict the next step in the word flow. I have no idea what Oe's sentences in Japanese looked like. My hand me down knowledge (I did once get a hand-me-down sweatshirt from one of the Gainesville murder victims. Yay charity. I was a morbid elementary school kid while wearing it) goes that he worked over his sentences deliberately to beat more meaning out of them. I read somewhere once (I think it was by one of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer writers) that to write snappy dialogue you should write what you want to say in plain speech before you find some clever way to twist it. Oe's translator (the much maligned Paul St. John. Hey, how come his co-translator Maki Sugiyama gets none of the blame?) wrote sentences that were twisted. But I kinda like getting a "WTF?" feeling sometimes. Just a little offbeat, a little something something not right about it. If you want to read a I-can't-believe-this-was-published translation, try
this book.
The afternoon I bought Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids was a good one. I was rewarding myself with some new books (coughs babying myself) for some cry baby reason of my own (positive reinforcement probably sounds more mature). I sat on the floor of the bookstore and looked at different stuff that looked good. I came out good on the other side of my previous experience with Oe (Teach Us to Outgrow Our Madness). And Japanese reform school kids! Didn't this just look like something for me? I was really happy to find it. Then I get home and look up my books on goodreads and it is review after review discouraging readers because of a bad translation. Sighs. If you want to read this book in English you can make it work. Don't let the naysayers get you down! You can catch a disease in the waiting room at the hospital Japanese kids story. There's more to get out of this than what someone else says it is. Book blurbs lie and no way is this Lord of the Flies.
The book could have done with a little more imagination, though. I've got some. Kids play make believe. Bodies aren't snatched when they they shoot up (and shoot, apparently). It's an us versus them thing, I guess. I get that it was set during a war and that had to turn that volume up all the way to eleven. Someone is versus someone else. (I like that the indians won in DBR cowboys versus indians films. That's what fantasies and inner lives are for.) I think the animal disease costumes represent too much. Juvenile deliquent, big mean villagers, guards, soldiers. All outfits. What you'll die for isn't the whole life if you don't actually die. They lacked ideas or wants. There was more to play with than just their penises. I'll get bird flu and fly away. But I hate waiting. Maybe the waiting would have killed me too. Deers don't like headlights either (or hunters). I don't know. Eventually the inevitability and unfairness makes you wish they'd stop scratching their penises and run wilder and less desperately. Like an animal. -
Mi primera novela de Kenzaburō Ōe es también la primera que él escribió en 1958 cuando contaba con 23 años.
Que novela tan difícil de leer, abordar y comentar. Leí la novela solo con el antecedente de la sinopsis y me he llevado una sorpresa buena y otra no tan buena. “Arrancad las semillas, fusilad a los niños” no es una historia amena, ni agradable, ni esperanzadora; es una historia sórdida, triste, repulsiva y violenta de principio a fin. La historia se sitúa en Japón rural durante la segunda guerra mundial, y narra el periplo de un grupo de niños y adolescentes sin nombre (salvo uno, Minami), que son evacuados de un reformatorio hacia un pueblo. Una vez allí son repudiados por el carácter que supone venir de un reformatorio; y a la vista de una epidemia el grupo es encerrado y abandonado por los campesinos quienes huyen del pueblo.
La narración está a cargo del protagonista y la historia se desarrolla en pocos días. Kenzaburō Ōe con una escritura poderosa y absorbente logra sumergir y hasta oprimir al lector con el horror que describe y trasmite. Si bien, hay días y hay noches, toda la novela la sentí como si fuera de noche, el bosque apenas lo recreé en sombras, las casas eran huecos abstractos, negros, donde el foco de atención es la sangre, las heridas, el dolor, la pudrición, los malos olores, los efluvios, la muerte, la hediondez, el excremento; porque a Kenzaburō Ōe no le interesa negar la mierda y enfrenta al lector a ella, lo deja sin escape ni opción, deja a todo ello alumbrando en medio de la nada, en una nada sin fondo. Todo el camino es así, de por si el peregrinaje de los niños con el celador por el bosque es agotador, pero cuando llegué al pueblo con el grupo yo ya estaba aguantando la lectura, era como un recorrido forzoso, me sentí violentada. Y tuve la tentación de decir basta, de quejarme y decir qué decadencia (!), pero me fue imposible porque yo también era prisionera y porque claramente el autor está señalando a otras cosas, que no me quise perder. Hay situaciones que en conjunto apuntan a partes del ser humano, en su aspecto más arcaico y natural. Por ejemplo, me llama mucho la atención la fascinación y rechazo que se experimenta ante la muerte y la degradación del cuerpo, retratado cuando los niños están recogiendo los cadáveres de los animales; me acordé de una escena de “La Vida de las Mujeres” de Alice Munro, donde una niña mira fijamente el cadáver de una vaca a medio descomponer. Otra emoción muy primaria y dibujada en la novela, es la atracción sexual por encima de otras cosas y ambivalente con la moral. Además de ello, el autor retrata la entropía en el comportamiento cuando no hay autoridad o jerarquías, entonces es cuando tienen cabida las preguntas sobre que nos hace mesurar, en que se funda el ser civilizado. Porque es que además, el comportamiento de los adultos muestra como se ha matado la razón y la infancia. Porque los niños no son tratados como niños, no solo por la violencia a la que son sometidos, sino también se les ha arrancado la individualidad, los derechos y la existencia, eso es lo que expresa Kenzaburō Ōe al dejarlos como seres anónimos sin nombre. Y hasta ahí, todo parecería un juego de biología y sociología, pero el autor va más allá y considero que esta novela es una crítica a la propia sociedad japonesa. Recordemos que la historia se ubica en la segunda guerra mundial, pero el autor apenas hace de ella un elemento del paisaje, cambiando así al “enemigo”. Si bien sabemos que Japón está en guerra no sabemos nada más, ni la posición de la comunidad, ni de heridos, muertos, bombardeos, sabemos lo que sucede con los niños y en la aldea, y las cosas no dan para más que asumir que el enemigo de Japón es Japón mismo, y no el ejército invasor, ni USA, ni los aliados. Incluso, también el autor señala la situación de los coreanos en el país.
La novela es crítica, desesperanzadora y siniestra. No hay futuro, la única opción es huir, huir dentro de un cerco sin salida, arrancar las semillas es matar a los niños.
La verdad agradezco que haya sido una novela corta. Me sentí asfixiada, me sentí violentada y oprimida. Es extraño que aun sintiéndome así no pueda menos que reconocer que estuve ante una gran obra, porque la genialidad de Kenzaburō Ōe está en lograr hacer de lo feo y lo atroz algo estético. -
I'm giving 5 stars to the novel that I think this is. I've never read that novel. What I have read is the most bungled pile of cockney jabberwocky ever suffered to print--probably the single worst translation, of anything, that I have read, ever. It is so unbelievably bad. It reads like they crankshafted the Japanese through Google translator and shoveled the gibberish onto an ESL intern for remedial tidying. It is a complete embarrassment and Grove should be ashamed.
I used to think that it was French that the English should never translate from. Now I am convinced that it is everything. English is no longer the English's language, especially not the English literary elite's, and they should at last stop trying to ramrod the wide English speaking world through the eyeballs with Cambridge's inept idea of Scouse, as though it had anything whatsoever to do with rural Japanese. ("Fagged out?" "Gaffer?") Especially when there isn't a copyeditor for a hundred miles and they can't--by force of sheer idiocy, and against a thousand-year tradition to the contrary--speak and write their own fucking language in the first place. We are talking about a graduate of Cambridge who is, on multiple occasions, unable to handle subject-verb agreement, basic comma usage, and which/that issues.
Also, nothing is ever "quietened down."
Also, what is a "pot-ato"?
Also, it is okay to call them icicles instead of "ice columns."
I'm serious.
Etc., etc., etc., etc., etc.
On every single page the unbelievably harrowing, clockwork gorgeousness of the book is straight-jacketed by utterly unnatural dialog--including but not limited to: "'You lot!'" and "'Don't fool with us!'"
Nietzsche said that it is neither the best nor the worst of a work that is ruined in translation--which leaves a fucking fuck of a lot between for ruining, all of which in this case is completely besotted by the ambitions of these excruciating morons.
From Moron A's--Paul St. John Mackintosh's--blog:
"Occupation: Financial Journalist
Vocation: Poet and Imaginative writer."
Yep. -
"Our friend was now lying in the earth, the ground water soaking into his skin, his hair and the soft tissues of his anus. And the ground water was flowing under the earth's surface after seeping through innumerable beasts' carcasses and would eventually be sucked up by the tough roots of the grass.
There is an image near the end of this book that crystalized for me the heartbreaking pathos running through the story: "Who would lay the blame on a dog and his young keeper, a guilt so heavy that they must sit in the dark indoors with bowed heads on a snowy afternoon?"
I just kept thinking, "these poor kids." Interestingly, Ōe barely discusses these kids' alleged crimes and delinquencies. So you read about their punishment at length, from the moment they are led into the wilderness, but only have a vague sense of why they're being punished. This narrative technique makes their punishment seem not only ludicrously severe and cruel, but out of all proportion to their purported wrongdoing. The original injustice of the situation fades into the background as a foregone conclusion, an afterthought, which makes it all the more searing.
Comparisons with The Lord of the Flies are obvious. A major difference, however, is that the kids don't inevitably and viciously turn on one another. There is some fighting and moments of cruelty bred from fear. But generally they stick together in their adverse circumstances. At least until the adults force them to betrayal in the end.
Related to the fact that they stick together, there isn't a sense that there is, in these boys, some innate evil of human nature that drives them to wickedness. There is no symbolic Beelzebub here. The adults in the story conspire to assure onlookers that they are wicked boys, because of course they wouldn't be in a reformatory otherwise. But, in fact, you read about sad, fragile, scared boys who have been abandoned and try to stick it out with a shred of dignity. If Golding propounds an innate human depravity as the ultimate source of cruelty — an inherent fallenness that reemerges whenever the protective structures of society or civilization are stripped away — for Ōe it's external social forces of poverty, disease, and war that drive humans to shocking and depraved acts. Golding's boys inherit and reproduce the original sin, whereas Ōe's boys are afflicted by the society of their elders.
The narrator, a survivor of the events in the story, seems to defy his hunters and reclaim his dignity through the act of writing itself. -
Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids [1958] – ★★★★1/2
Kenzaburo Oe’s debut should remind of Lord of the Flies [1954] by William Golding, but, undoubtedly, the author had other inspirations too. In his first book, the Japanese Nobel Laureate tells of a group of boys from a reform school that get stranded high up in forested mountains and forced to confront hostile villagers, the possibility of a plague, starvation and inhumane conditions. As the boys take matters into their own hands, their boyish desire to play and youthful confidence/hopefulness clash violently with the necessities posed by the war and traumas experienced by the most desperate. The boys finally realise that they have to choose between truth, principle, loyalty and compassion, on the one hand, and their own lives, on the other.
As Kenzaburo Oe’s The Silent Cry, there is the focus in this story on the mentality of one isolated village, on the relationship between two brothers, and on various situations where despair and hope, adulthood and immaturity, and corruption and innocence come face-to-face and collide. Also, as the author’s The Silent Cry, Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids paints a disturbingly grim universe that is particular to Kenzaburo Oe only – there is a war raging on in the background, the hostile environment is made even more so by the presence of unfriendly villagers, and dirt and panic are ever-present. Portrayed with brutal honesty, there emerges in this story one of a kind nightmarish scenario as we focus on fifteen undernourished boys. Our narrator is one of the boys who has a brother that has been smuggled reluctantly into these ranks of delinquents. The boys are being evacuated from their current place due to the ongoing war, but they are few other villages that want to take them. Finally, the boys are taken deep into the mountains, a place that can only be reached by a trolley. It is there they have to confront the terrifying and claustrophobic nature of their existence.
“Surrounded by gigantic walls”, “buried beneath the heavy atmosphere” [1958: 65] in a place “harder to escape…than from jail” [1958: 25], the boys are soon put to a horrid task of disposing of animal carcasses and clearing the mountain fields. But, is there a more sinister reason behind their task? There is a talk of a plague, so there is a chance of death for the boys not only from the war, starvation and “savage” villagers, but also from a deadly disease. Confronted by hopelessness, the boys find their condition in the new place becoming curious: “time went really slowly and simply wouldn’t pass. Time doesn’t move at all…like a domestic animal, time doesn’t move without human beings’ strict supervision…time won’t move a step without grown-ups’ orders.” [Oe, 1958: 91]. The brutality of the boys’ new existence is still being sometimes softened by the compassion for the weak and a still strong sense of camaraderie among the boys, but how long will these last? This question becomes important when on the scene comes a soldier who escaped his army and our narrator finds “love” in the presence of an abandoned village girl.
Kenzaburo Oe perceptively contrasts the mentality of adults and children when they are faced with unnatural and horrific conditions. On the one hand, the boys that are left stranded in the mountains are slowly turning into adults, assuming control over their lives and their new land, and imitating an adult lifestyle in other ways, such as hunting for their food and developing grown-up relationships. On the other hand, the boys still seem to be engaged in a childish play from time to time and, among all their seemingly “adult” decision-making, display boyish bravado, selfishness and fearlessness that could only come from ignorance. However, amazingly, it is precisely the children that seem to behave more rationally than the adults in certain critical situations, and, in that way, Kenzaburo Oe undoubtedly wanted to satirise the actions of adults in times of war, crisis and confusion: “in that time of killing, that time of madness, we children may have been the only ones to develop a close solidarity” [Oe, 1958: 27-28].
Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids is a strong debut that is short, disturbing and powerful. From Kenzaburo Oe’s pen spirals out brutal and unforgettable truth as the reader is taken on a slow-moving ride into the chaos and despair. -
It’s a little crazy - the title of this book, don't you think? A little nuts. Asking me to shoot the kids! The kids!!! You run around with an axe, bury it left and right in brain matter, why don't you. And while you're at it, ruin my flowers. Nutz!!! Say, what? The kids are like the buds? It's wrong? Nonsense. You're overusing that pretty head of yours. Remember Golding? The guy had a point!!! Nothing like the buds!! Shoot them. Shoot them all!!!
OK. Time out. Lets put the juvenile and the split personality to rest, you probably want to know whether the book was any good.
Well it was bloody awesome! Violent from start to finish, with chapter titles way too revealing, and male genitals shrinking in the cold time after time over and over - stuff like that makes me cringe, stuff like that can cross prominent authors off my reading list for good, stuff like that done right apparently can earn you a Nobel Prize but my aproval? You have to try harder, and spartan sentences and male first person narrative aren't helping either. So what is it about this book that made it so appealing to me after all? Maybe it's the setting: Japan during WWII, isolated snow buried little village. Maybe it's the disease - ever since the Plague, I have the unhealthy fascination with sickness and love when my characters suffer even die. Maybe it's true an honest, spot on portrayal of kids and adults, boys and girl, foreigners and locals, the educated and the stupid mob. Maybe it's all of it, together with the despised brutality and raw emotions. But whatever it is, it makes the book damn good.
And two more things before you go. One, judging from reviews here on GR, English translation leaves a lot to be desired. I read it in Polish and voice no complaints, my translation was fine, sorry if you get a shitty one. Two, all of the Lord of the Flies references - they don't give this book justice. Nip the buds, shoot the kids is not a LOTF-repeat with a different setting and Japanese customs thrown in for distraction. What the two books have in common is young boys in isolation and a level of violence which you usually don't associate with kids, but that's it. The message Oë passes on with his book (and he passes it well) is the opposite of what Golding tried to convey. So it is fun to make a literary comparison between those two, but it's fun not because of the similarities, but because of the differences: both books disagree on the most essential matter, both deliver strong arguments and make a stance. So before you think of Kenzaburo Oë as a William Golding wannabe, think twice, the guy deserves his own moment in the spotlight. -
A gruesome novella about a group of adolescent boys from a reformatory school sent to a rural village in wartime Japan. Plague, violence, coercion, the collapse of a paranoid society in wartime, etc.
Published in 1958, and Oe's first novel, it'd be easy to compare this to Lord of the Flies, but only superficially. In The Lord of the Flies, it's British boys thrown onto an island and written in response to the patronizing novels of the time assuming civilization would always win out; this was set in the middle of a society falling apart, and partially how the adults of the village brutalize the young, who turn against others.
I normally am a fan of Oe's work - A Personal Matter is still moving and affecting. Here everything is kind of muddled together, though some descriptive passages stand out. -
No sé muy bien si me ha gustado poco o mucho esta historia.
Empezó bien, pero se fue desinflando poco a poco y eso que es cortito.
Al principio el protagonista me hacía gracia, pero llegó un capítulo que hizo que sintiese desprecio y asco por él.
El final me parece correcto, pero esperaba más de esta historia.
Olvidable. -
WARNING - I am a big fan of Kenzaburō Ōe and this novel is a prime example of anti-war literature. It's a a 5 star novel but for the translation. If you get a chance, please check out his speech, delivered at the Nobel Banquet on December 10, 1994 at his award of the Nobel Prize.
-
گلها را بچین؛ کودکان را بکش، داستان گروهی از پسربچههای دارالتادیب است که به بیگاری در روستاها گماشته میشوند. با آنها مثل حیوان رفتار میشود. به شدت تحت نظرند و راه فراری ندارند. اواخر جنگ جهانی دوم است و ژاپن در آستانهی شکست قرار دارد. آخرین روستایی که نوجوانان قبل از شروع دورهی اصلاح و تربیتشان به آنجا فرستاده میشوند درگیر طاعون میشود. روستاییان از آنجا فرار میکنند و نهتنها این نوجوانهای تبهکار را رها میکنند که راه خروجشان را میبندند. در ادامهی داستان تلاش این بچهها برای زندهماندن را میخوانیم. مجرمان کوچکی که برخلاف ظاهر شجاع و خودسرشان، روحیهی حساس و شکنندهای دارند.
داستان آنطور که انتظار داشتم جذبم نکرد. وحشت و نفرتی را که نویسنده سعی کردهبود از ابتدا تا انتهای داستان حضور داشته باشد و در خواننده رسوخ کند احساس نمیکردم. همهچیز بهطور مصنوعی و خشک، توصیف و تعریف شدهبود. شاید هم باید به مترجم خرده گرفت؛ نمیدانم. -
Este un roman destul de scurt, dar încărcat de emoție și scene tulburătoare, o imagine realistă despre mizerie, discriminare, nedreptate și solidaritate. Unele episoade sunt foarte violente și atât de grotești încât mi-a fost greu să trec peste ele, dar tocmai acestea accentuează realismul de care dă dovadă povestea și cruzimea firii umane, pentru că momentele în care suntem reduși la simple creaturi care trebuie să supraviețuiască sunt cele în care zace esența fiecărui individ. ,,Stârpiți răul de la rădăcină, împușcați copiii'' este o descriere brutal de sinceră și relevantă a unei societăți în care ura oamenilor este cea mai mare barieră. Cea mai periculoasă închisoare este cea care nici măcar nu are ziduri, pentru că oamenii din jurul tău sunt cei care îți închid spiritul, îl asupresc, apoi te acuză că ești așa cum te-au făcut ei. Cum poți să rămâi ,,tu'', când nimeni nu te vrea așa? Recenzia aici:
https://sandradeaconu.blogspot.com/20....
,,Cu gândul la moarte, am fost asaltat de simțăminte care-mi îngreunau pieptul și care îmi uscau gâtlejul, simțăminte care se înghesuiau cu repeziciune printre viscerele mele.'' -
สำนวนแปลเข้าใจยากไปหน่อย โดยเฉพาะช่วงบรรยายสภาพสถานที่ จากที่พยายามสร้างภาพตามก็อ่านผ่านๆ จนรู้สึกเอื่อยเฉื่อยในช่วงแรก ก่อนเรื่องจะเร่งเร้าและแหวะออกด้วยความสยดสยองในช่วงกลาง-หลัง ซึ่งก็เพิ่มความน่าติดตามได้อย่างแนบเนียน
จะดีกว่านี้ถ้าไม่ติดเรื่องการถอดความ เพราะแค่ตัวโครงเรื่องก็แสดงให้เห็นถึงคุณค่าทางวรรณกรรมที่มีต่อสังคมอย่างชัดเจนแล้วครับ (เห็นในเม้นท์ฝรั่งบอกเป็นผลงานแรก เขียนตอน 23 คคคคุณพ่อครับ!) -
-
Tremendo y crudo
http://entremontonesdelibros.blogspot... -
Oé, con su estilo crudo y directo, no deja de cautivarme. Grande.
-
Quería leer literatura japonesa que no fuera tan contemplativa o etérea, y terminé con esta joya.
La novela tiene algo muy clásico que es poner a protagonistas niños en situaciones límite para cuestionar la verdadera bondad humana (como los libros de formación tipo El señor de las moscas o El guardián entre el centeno). A esto se le agrega una atmósfera muy bien construida, que muestra la contaminación de la naturaleza y las enfermedades, y esto produce una narración inquietantemente cercana a los tiempos actuales. -
Though the translation contains errors, as many reviewers point out, Oe’s story is a powerful one and one that will not easily be forgotten. Towards the end of the Second World War it is necessary to evacuate a small Reformatory School from the city to the mountains, a small group of 15 adolescent boys and there Warden. Shortly after arriving at their destination in a small rural village one of the boys becomes ill, and the villagers and Warden assume it is a plague, and abandon the boys.
It is compared to Lord of the Flies which was published only 3 years earlier, but this is am older group of boys, all wrong-doers (though the only crime that is revealed is that of the unnamed narrator), and the groups experiences are more brutal and gruesome. Rather, if anything deeper is to be read into this, it is an indictment of war-time cruelty and a consideration of fear in society and place of outsiders. I found it fascinating, and though the translation may have some errors, it certainly does not deteriorate from appreciating the quality of the writing.
The particular village Oe chooses has a wonderfully imagined location in the mountains. The boys board a type of funicular train to get to their new home, and then must cross a precarious gorge. The image found from an art student online, is pretty much how I pictured it.
This was Oe’s first novel, and he is regarded as a great of Japanese post-war literature, and awarded the Nobel Prize in 1994. I am certainly keen to read more from him. -
3.5 stars. An engaging, harsh, concise, short novel about fifteen teenage reformatory boys who are evacuated to a remote mountain village in wartime. The villagers fear and detest the boys, treating them poorly. When the plague is believed to break out, the villagers flee and block the boys from escaping via the only mountain pass in and out of the village. The boys, to survive, ransack the village houses. They experience violence, the death of individuals and bury corpses. They also find two Koreans and a soldier who has deserted. This novel is the author’s first published novel. Oe was 23 years old.
This book was first published in Japan in 1958. -
Life as a death sentence.
Group of boys struggle to survive.
A society that has deemed them expendable.
Existential themes of freedom.
Consequences of societal abandonment.
How far can the human capacity for both self - preservation and sacrifice go ?
" Yes, we were all so cowardly that we have to save ourselves or die like dogs ".
For nothing we lose, and does it matter,
Matter if we live or die ? -
Una novela apabullante en la que un grupo de jóvenes de reformatorio son confinados en un pueblo en el que empezarán a reproducir el proceso civilizatorio desde sus orígenes. Así, el fuego, la sexualidad, la caza, los rituales de fertilidad y la vida de clan son algunos de los canales por medio de los cuales Kenzaburō Ōe logra ponernos frente a una guerra mucho más cruel que la que se vivía en Japón por aquella época.
-
I don't like books that focus too much on the sexual activities of their characters and I felt this book did. I don't care about how many soldiers Minami wants to sleep with and the countless repetition bored me to death.
Also, the narrator's own experiences with the 'little girl'. She is always referred to as 'the little girl'. Jst how old was she? Was she even of age, was there even consent? I'm horrified. I didn't like this book.
Okay my review is focusing on details that aren't even what the story is about but these little details really put me off. So that's that. -
No sé qué decir. El libro es bueno, pero la oscuridad es DEMASIADA y además casi todos los personajes (la mayoría niños) están como obsesionados con el sexo. Lo que pasa dentro de ellos y dentro también de los pueblerinos es todavía peor que cualquiera de las epidemias.
-
“Nip the Buds, Kill the Kids” was the first novel Kenzaburō Ōe ever wrote, in 1958, at the age of only twenty three. As a young man Ōe was fascinated by French literature, studied it at the university, and this story is clearly influenced by French existentialism, particularly by the writings by Albert Camus, as well as by Spanish picaresque literature.
The story, set at the end of World War II, is about a group of young boys from a reformatory, sent to a remote village in a mountainous area and located in a densely wooded valley to live and work. Soon after their arrival the boys discover that the villagers, always hostile and brutal towards them, suspect the village is afflicted by plague. One night they all flee in secret, abandoning the boys and cutting off their way out from the village. The boys need to come to terms with their uncertain fate and find a way to survive.
With this novel Ōe’s fascination with moral dilemmas, the plight of an outcast, group dynamics and peer pressure began. Japanese post-war literature often depicted anti-heroes, disillusioned about humanity. Here we have children, still innocent, still sensitive, easily humiliated by unfairness and injustice, which becomes clear when they meet a Korean boy left behind and find a war deserter, whose hateful villagers have wanted to kill. Ōe emphasises filthy conditions, in which the boys have to live, the stench of rotting corpses of humans and animals, the suffering. Despite being dark the novel is also lyrical and emotionally gut-wrenching and the impact is akin to this that “The Road” by Cormac McCarthy leaves.
Ōe has always spoken of his unease when it came to the Japanese role in the war, the rampage with which Japan invaded other Asian countries and the ruthlessness of the Japanese during the war. He talked about it beautifully in his acceptance speech when awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature (the whole speech is superb and I encourage you to read it). “Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids” will remain one the classics of anti-war literature, not losing its profound impact even after so many years after the publication. -
Tengo sentimientos encontrados con esta novela. Empezó bien. Una historia que prometía doler como mil demonios, lo que podría llegar incluso a asemejarse a un testimonio terrible. El problema es que... la historia pierde fuerza. Y sentido, pero eso lo dejamos para más tarde.
Arrancad las semillas, fusilad a los niños arranca con un grupo de chavales que está siendo arrastrado como poco más que mercancía, a un pueblo perdido en las montañas. Con la guerra como telón de fondo y el abandono y miedo como punto de partida, el celador del reformatorio decide que debe llevar a los chavales en grupos. El primer grupo, compuesto por el protagonista, su hermano pequeño y algunos chavales más; llega al pueblo montañés con la idea de trabajar hasta desfallecer y comer algo. Saben que no son bienvenidos, y así se lo hacen saber los del pueblo. ¿El problema? Que esta idea, la atroz, daba para una historia potente, desgarradora. Y Kenzaburō Ōe, sencillamente, cambia de tema.
No os quiero spoilear la trama, así que me limitaré a contaros qué cosas han hecho que la nota caiga en picado. La primera, y la que más me ha molestado, es esa obsesión malsana con el sexo que tienen los niños. Son niños, por amor de Dios, y el protagonista se pasa todo el maldito día pensando en erecciones, etc., etc. Llamadme rara, pero me parecía bastante horrible tener que pensar en las atrocidades que hizo el chaval, porque menuda joya, cómo se las gasta... La segunda, bastante diferente, es la incoherencia que salpica la trama. Con una historia tan fuerte, tan "impactante", no concibo que el autor diluya cada situación en otra más vacua, impersonal, casi fría. El final es algo así como el colmo de la incoherencia. Cierto acontecimiento con el soldado no se sostiene. Es físicamente imposible, no diré nada más al respecto. Y eso sin comentar una escena que hizo que se me retorciera el estómago del disgusto.
Lo he pensado mucho y... no puedo recomendarlo. Lo siento, no puedo. No digo que sea una mala historia, pero sí es fácilmente olvidable, poco destacable y, para qué mentir, muy mejorable. -
Finísimo como no podía ser de otro modo
-
Nu mă voi hazarda să-mi fac, deocamdată, o părere despre Kenzaburō Ōe. Acesta este primul roman al scriitorului (apărut în 1958, când el avea numai douăzeci și trei de ani) și, din câte am înțeles, stilul său se schimbă foarte mult în cărțile publicate ulterior. Pentru un roman de debut, Stârpiți răul de la rădăcină, împușcați copiii mi s-a părut foarte bine scris, poate un pic prea lucrat în ceea ce privește comparațiile și metaforele, care abundă la orice cotitură a textului, și prea centrat pe o împărțire clară a binelui și a răului. Mi-a plăcut, totuși, acest lirism care contrabalansează substratul dur și violent al poveștii, netezindu-i spinii și făcând romanul un pic mai ușor de suportat.
Violența este prezentă încă din primele pagini (sau acorduri) ale cărții: apele umflate ale râului poartă cadavre de animale, țara se află în război și oamenii mor de foame, iar cincisprezece băieți de la școala de corecție sunt evacuați și mânați, precum o haită de animale sălbatice și periculoase, spre o nouă închisoare, într-un sat izolat din munți. Murdari, înfometați, dar obraznici și indisciplinați, băieții sunt întâmpinați cu dispreț și curiozitate de locuitorii satelor pe care le traversează, iar ei își vântură cu nerușinare penisurile prin fața femeilor și a copiilor, care la rândul lor îi scuipă sau îi atacă cu pietre.
Unii dintre ei încearcă să evadeze, dar sunt prinși întotdeauna de sătenii transformați în cerberi, bătuți cu bestialitate și returnați gardianului mai mult morți decât vii. Deși au părăsit spațiul școlii de corecție, tinerii delincvenți continuă să fie înconjurați de ziduri impenetrabile, mișcându-se în interiorul unei închisori vaste apărate de paznici cu palme bătătorite de țărani, oameni simpli în care războiul a trezit o brutalitate primară.
Pătrundem în această lume prin ochii unuia dintre băieții mai mari, al cărui nume nu îl aflăm până la final; un fel de lider al grupului (rol care-i este disputat de un camarad condamnat pentru prostituție), naratorul veghează asupra inocentului frate mai mic, abandonat de tatăl incapabil să-i poarte de grijă în vreme de război. Gândurile și observațiile naratorului, introspecțiile care frizează maturitatea, sensibilitatea care transpare din povestea băiatului ne dezvăluie versiunea intimă din interiorul grupului, în care furia se împletește cu slăbiciunea și neputința, iar delincvenții juvenili apar ca ceea ce sunt de fapt: niște copii care încă nu au lăsat în urmă copilăria, ceva mai agresivi și indisciplinați, e drept, dar tratați cu o asprime mult peste măsura delictelor de care s-au făcut vinovați.
Kenzaburo Oe m-a surprins prin amestecul de grotesc, duritate, vulgaritate și lirism, care a avut un efect destul de ciudat asupra mea. Micul roman mi-a lăsat senzația unui montagne russe care ne urcă și ne coboară, pe rând, în stratul rarefiat al speranței și în abisul cleios al disperării, fără a ști prea bine unde se va opri la final. Însă titlul cărții - care m-a intrigat de la bun început prin agresivitatea sa - nu prea lasă loc de iluzii: în lumea brutală a lui Ōe, fărâmițată de război și populată de suflete împietrite, copilăria își pierde aura intangibilității, iar greșelile tinereții sunt tratate cu aceeași gravitate ca păcatele maturității.
Dacă aveți chef să citiți mai mult decât atât, varianta lungă se află pe blog:
http://lecturile-emei.blogspot.ro/201... -
Un relato bastante visceral, al igual que todos los otros libros de Oe que he leído. Sin embargo, siento que le faltó algo que no tienen sus trabajos más maduros, esa vuelta de tuerca, no en la historia, sino en lo que hay detrás. Quizás porque los personajes son niños, no puede profundizar en otros aspectos. Aun así, es un buen libro, y podría ser una buena forma de introducirse a este autor imprescindible de Japón.
