The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan by Ivan Morris

The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan Reviews

• 
  Steve

  
  
  - Utagawa Toyokuni (1769 - 1825)
  
  
  As Ivan Morris (1925-1976) is best known for his translations and interpretations of the hyper-aestheticized culture of the Japanese imperial court of the Heian era (794-1185), one may well be startled to learn that the last book he published before his regrettably premature death was an examination of the role of failed heroes throughout Japanese history. In fact, he tells us in his preface to The Nobility of Failure: Tragic Heroes in the History of Japan (1975) that Mishima Yukio complained to him that his focus on the Heian period court ignored Japan's long martial history and left out crucial aspects of the Japanese character. Morris took this to heart and wrote a 500 page response examining the lives and deaths of nine famous Japanese men of action which closes with a chapter about the kamikaze pilots of the Second World War. Morris chose to focus on tragic heroes, because they play a role in Japanese culture which has no real counterpart in the West.(*)
  
  Perhaps when searching for a Western analogue one might think of Admiral Nelson being struck down just as his greatest victory was revealing itself, but to die under such circumstances would not be viewed as tragic by a samurai; on the contrary, Nelson's fate would be the most hotly desired goal of any samurai. The Spartans who fell at Thermopylae were defeated, but they slowed and weakened the Persians so that the rest of Greece could finish the job on the plain of Marathon; moreover, they shared the samurai's estimation of honorable death in battle. Not even the men who died at the Alamo - most of whom did not share the death-dedicated values of the Spartans and samurai - are tragic heroes in the sense at hand because their lengthy resistance and ultimate defeat assured the subsequent defeat of the Mexican forces.
  
  No, a tragic hero in the sense considered here is one who dies not only in defeat, but the more abject, ineluctable and obviously vain (from our point of view) the defeat, the greater the tragic hero is. As Morris mentions, just such heroes were the men Mishima most admired, and it is now clear to me that Mishima was not trying to spur an uprising when he addressed that band of soldiers from that balcony. He knew perfectly well that they were not going to do anything, and, even if they did, they would accomplish nothing against the power of the Japanese state. No, he joined the men he most admired by dying in the most pointless defeat he could arrange. After speaking his bold and (by his lights) noble words and viewing the probable mix of consternation, fear and disbelief in his audience's faces, he withdrew to a small coterie of his fellow believers and committed seppuku (harakiri) surely the most painful way to kill oneself (except possibly burning oneself alive).
  
  In this book Morris has two primary topics: the role of the tragic hero in Japanese culture and the tragic heroes themselves. Most of the text is occupied with presenting the lives and the historical and cultural context of each of these tragic heroes, which provides the reader with vivid snapshots of particularly colorful moments in Japanese history. I very much appreciate that Morris, accomplished translator that he was, liberally quotes from original source materials - histories, diaries, poetry, etc. - that yield a richly connotative contemporaneous flavor to the portrait. For example, Morris commences with the legendary prince Yamato Takeru,(**) who murdered his twin brother in a privy and in his first great victory disguised himself as a woman, ingratiated himself with the enemy commanders and then:
  
  Prince Ouso [another of Takeru's names] waited until the festivities were at their height, when he pulled out the sword from the breast of his robe [!] and, seizing the elder Kumaso by the collar, pierced him through the chest. The younger Kumaso rushed from the room in terror. The prince chased him to the foot of the stairs, grabbed him from behind, and thrust his sword up his backside. [!!] Then the chieftain said, "Do not move your sword any further. I have something to say to you." [!!!]
  
  Takeru heard him out (among other things, the impaled chieftain gave Ouso the name Takeru - brave) and then killed him, "slashing him to pieces like a ripe melon." I am excerpting here from Morris' translation of an extended passage from the oldest Japanese history, the Kojiki. This Ur-hero goes on to cheat, swindle and betray many other enemies, a kind of Japanese Ulysses. When he returns to the Yamato court, he is sent at once to fight the enemies in the East, and, a clear sign of the composite nature of this account, he changes his personality and methods completely. No longer a treacherous bully, he becomes a sensitive and empathetic hero as well as the gullible victim of deceits which maneuver him into desperate situations. Moreover, in this part of the story he must also combat supernatural beings, which were completely absent from the account of the campaign in the West.
  
  Ultimately, one of these supernatural entities undoes him (through deceit), and, dying, Takeru painfully tries to return to the court to give a report to his father, the emperor. He fails and succumbs on the desolate Plain of Nobo, but not before emitting nostalgic poems and a final message to his father replete with the proper filial sentiments. As Morris emphasizes, it is in these poems and final message that the Japanese hero manifests his true emotion and records his sincerity. It is this emotional sincerity which characterizes the Japanese hero, not his bravado, the women he seduces or the men he slaughters, and most certainly not his victories or defeats. This tradition stretches down to the kamikaze pilots who all wrote their farewell poems the night before their last flight.
  
  Morris proceeds chronologically, and the heroes become less legendary and more firmly grounded in history. The first more or less historical figure Morris considers is a 6th century soldier named Yorozu, about whom we know next to nothing except that he was the first Japanese in recorded history to commit suicide in defeat. Defeat in itself is not dishonorable in traditional Japan, but to become a prisoner of the enemy is an unexpungeable dishonor. According to the account in the Nihon Shoki, the second oldest Japanese history, Yorozu fought valiantly (on the losing side, of course) in an extremely lopsided contest between the rival Mononobe and Soga clans (which was partially a struggle over whether Buddhism was to be officially acknowledged by the imperial court) until he was severely wounded and likely to fall into the enemy's hands, at which point he plunged his own dagger into his throat. In the account in the Nihon Shoki, the significance of this act was heightened by various supernatural phenomena, and it was carefully arranged for Yorozu to be completely alone against his adversaries at the end. This is many centuries before bushido, the way of the samurai, had been formulated, much less codified! The Nihon Shoki was submitted to the Emperor in 720, and this attitude must surely be even older.
  
  I suppose that slicing one's carotid artery was too easy, for suicide in defeat eventually acquired associated rites and developed into the excruciating seppuku. If you were able to do that, your makoto - usually translated into English as sincerity, but with much deeper and richer connotations than it now carries(***) - could not be doubted.(4*)
  
  Morris looks closely at such figures as Sugawara no Michizane and Saigo Takamori, about whom I have written elsewhere, as well as Minamoto no Yoshitsune, Kusunoki Masashige and Amakusa Shiro, the sixteen year old "Japanese Messiah" who led a peasant/Christian rebellion in 1638 and who, not surprisingly, was spotted walking on the sea off the coast of Kyushu. All most interesting. And Morris writes very well. Each of these case histories adds a new aspect to the multi-faceted notion of failed hero in Japanese culture, but the central theme is "the hero, far from surviving or succeeding, is fated by his sincerity and lack of political acumen to die at an early age as a glorious failure." To magnify the pathos, it was preferable that the hero be initially graced with brilliant victories before he was obliged by fate to walk open-eyed into a complete and total defeat.
  
  But let me get to the other focus of this book: the role of the tragic hero in Japanese culture. The stories surrounding these failed heroes were told in Japanese marketplaces and festivals by their itinerant story tellers and acting companies; they permeated Japanese literature, theater (Noh, Kabuki and Bunraku) and, more recently, cinema and television. Like central cultural myths everywhere they were used and abused for all possible political purposes. Shorthand phrases (such as hoganbiiki - sympathy with the loser) entered the language to quickly refer to the associated conceptual and emotional complexes.
  
  Morris suggests why the Japanese have a fascination with such tragic heroes:
  
  In a predominantly conformist society, whose members are overawed by authority and precedent, rash, defiant, emotionally honest men like Yoshitsune and Takamori have a particular appeal. The submissive majority, while bearing its discontents in safe silence, can find vicarious satisfaction in identifying itself emotionally with these individuals who waged their forlorn struggle against overwhelming odds; and the fact that all their efforts are crowned with failure lends them a pathos which characterizes the general vanity of human endeavour and makes them the most loved and evocative of heroes.
  
  And further:
  
  This understanding of lacrimae rerum is reflected in an instinctive sympathy with the tragic fate of the failed hero, whose defeat by the forces of a hostile world exemplifies in a most dramatic form the confrontation of every living creature with adversity, suffering and death. ... the pathos of worldly misfortune is especially evocative when the victim stands out as being young, pure and sincere.
  
  I may be deluding myself, but The Nobility of Failure is a convincing examination of one of the elements of Japanese culture which clearly set it apart from European cultures and their descendants.
  
  
  (*) I was set upon this book through a review by Marguerite Yourcenar in her remarkable, posthumously published collection of articles and essays, Le Temps, Ce Grand Sculpteur, which I recommend to your attention for its beautifully polished prose and Yourcenar's finely honed sense of history and aesthetics.
  
  (**) Morris does not just tell colorful stories; the scholarly side of history is not neglected in the least. For example, he tells us that traditionally Takeru is supposed to be a historical figure from the 1st century CE, but experts have established that, actually, the violent young prince was a composite of various Yamato commanders during the 4th century. With nearly 200 pages of notes and glossary providing additional details, The Nobility of Failure is the kind of history I would expect to see published by a university press, not by Random House.(!)
  
  (***) In the words of Kurt Singer, makoto "spells readiness to discard everything that might hinder a man from acting wholeheartedly on the pure and unpredictable impulses that spring from the secret centre of his being." Like its synonym magokoro, it also implies a purity of spirit and motive. What is most interesting is that the objective righteousness of the man's cause is immaterial - what matters is the sincerity with which he espouses the cause. When I think back on the acts of sporadic violence in the 1930's by some junior officers in the Japanese armed forces, which included murdering generals and government ministers, not to mention causing war with China, I now have a better understanding of the reluctance of the men in power to destroy or even to punish the transgressing officers.
  
  Do you recall that scene in Tom Cruise's movie The Last Samurai where the battle has been manfully fought against overwhelming odds and lost? At that point, if not sooner, Westerners would surrender. Or perhaps they would hole up in a strong position and wait for the enemy to come to them. The last charge of the pitiful remnants against the howitzers and Gatling guns in which they were mowed down to the last man (except Cruise's character, of course), was not an act of madness, whimsy or incompetence. It was a textbook manifestation of makoto. With this hopeless and useless charge their pure sincerity was displayed beyond any doubt. And it was not done with the purpose of dispelling doubt; it was done because of the perfection of that culminating act. Human beings are wondrous and terrifying creatures...
  
  (4*) Thus spake Mishima Yukio in a 1966 newspaper interview:
  
  I cannot believe in Western sincerity because it is invisible, but in feudal times we believed that sincerity resided in our entrails, and if we needed to show our sincerity, we had to cut our bellies and take out our visible sincerity. And it was also the symbol of the will of the soldier, the samurai; everybody knew that this was the most painful way to die. And the reason they preferred to die in the most excruciating manner was that it proved the courage of the samurai.
  
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• 
  Serhiy

  З деяким скепсисом підходив до цієї книжки, бо що нового українці можуть дізнатись у японців про failed heroes? Але її часто рекомендують для поліпшення розуміння японською культури й світогляду, тому я ризикнув.
  
  Як видно з назви, тут йдеться про постаті, які мають беззаперечний героїчний статус у Японії, попри те, що формально вони зазнали поразки, а їхні дії у більшості випадків привели до наслідків прямо протилежних їхнім намірам. На Заході вони, скоріш за все, вважалися б невдахами, але в Японії часто вшановуються більше за традиційних у західному сенсі героїв, які там теж є. Причина цієї відмінності лежить у різному погляді на життя: іудейсько-християнський підхід ґрунтується на втішній ідеї, що, поки людина зберігає віру, Бог буде на її боці, і вона, або принаймні її справа, врешті переможе. Американцям, звичайно, знайомий відчай, але він випливає не з філософського усвідомлення екзистенційних обмежень людини, а від розчарування, яке походить із надмірної надії на можливість досягти щастя. Японський погляд протилежний, вони з давніх-давен змирились з тим, що світ не лежить у добрі. Попри в цілому бадьорий та енергійний національним характер, в японців присутнє глибоке напруження природного песимізму, відчуття, що в кінцевому підсумку все проти нас і що, як би сильно ми не прагнули, ми втягуємось у програшну гру. Рано чи пізно кожна людина приречена на невдачу; бо, навіть якщо він зможе подолати різноманітні перешкоди, встановлені суворим суспільством, він, нарешті, буде переможений природними силами віку, хвороби та с��ерті. Автор вбачає причину тако ставлення до життя у поєднанні буддизму Махаяни, який був панівним віруванням у Японії довше, ніж у будь-якій інший країні, та схильністю регіону до землетрусів та інших природних катастроф. Проте у японського підходу є і свої переваги: визнання особливої краси, властивої швидкоплинності, світовим нещастям і «пафосу речей» (mono no aware), багато в чому замінює західну віру в можливість «щастя». Японське розуміння lacrimae rerum відбиватися в інстинктивному співчутті до трагічної долі failed hero, поразка якого супроти ворожого світу в найбільш драматичній формі зображає протистояння кожної живої істоти з лихами, стражданнями та смертю. Хоча ми зрештою приречені на те, щоб страждати, пафос земного нещастя особливо гострий, коли жертва молода, чиста та щира. Її падіння в людській формі представляє найсуттєвіший з японських образів — опадання крихкого цвітіння вишні.
  
  Як бачите, основну ідею «The Nobility of Failure» не так складно пояснити. Але що ж тоді складає основний обсяг її тесту? Це десять розділів, кожний з яких присвячений конкретному прикладу failed hero, розміщених у хронологічному порядку: принц
  Ямато Такеру, Йорузу, принц Аріма,
  Суґавара но Мітідзане,
  Мінамото-но Йошіцуне,
  Кусунокі Масашіґе,
  Амакуса Широ,
  Ошио Хейхачіро,
  Сайґо Такаморі та останній розділ про воїнів-камікадзе. Більшу частину книги я завдавався питанням, нащо так багато прикладів, бо щоб схопити основну думку можна обмежитись декількома. Ближче до кінця я збагнув, у чому справа, бо у книзі є ще один герой. Айван Морріс був доволі близьким другом Юкіо Мішими, імовірно, написати цю книгу його спонукала вчиненена Мішимою спроба псевдоперевороту, а однією з цілей було прояснити логіку цього вчинку і спростувати викликану непорозумінням репутацію на заході Мішими як фашиста. Автору було важливо показати тисячолітню тяглість цієї японської традиції, та зробити наголос на тому, що Мішима керувався саме нею. У цьому розрізі найцікавіші останні три розділи, бо присвячені постатям, які безпосередньо надихали Мішиму. Зокрема одним з його останніх творів був великий есей про Ошио Хейхачіро. В них також розглянуті інші джерела світогляду героїв, крім загального японського світосприйняття, викладеного у попередньому абзаці: філософія конфуціанського мислителя
  Ван Янміна, самурайський етос та дзен-буддизм.
• 
  Denise

  A fascinating look at the lives and deaths of some of Japan's most famous "doomed heroes" - individuals who fought for great things but lost their lives without achieving them, yet are by many still venerated to this day despite - or because? - of the fact that they were ultimately doomed to fail in their endeavours. From the semi-mythical archetype of the doomed hero, Yamato Takeru, to the kamikaze pilots of WWII, Morris introduces an interesting selection of such historical characters across history. I was familiar with some, though not all, of their stories and found this quite an interesting read.
• 
  Jason Goetz

  This is an amazing book in its content. Morris' study of the importance of sincerity--rather than success--to the formation of a Japanese hero sheds light on some cultural differences that may not appear obvious at first glance. As someone who has long since felt a deep connection with Japanese culture--I love Japanese baseball and studied the Japanese language in high school (which despite what my students might think was within the last decade)--I felt like this cemented my feeling of attachment to it.
  
  But I will also admit that in trying to form a distinction between Japanese heroes and Western heroes in terms of how the Japanese ones knowingly lead themselves to failure, whereas Western ones supposedly didn't, Morris makes a pretty large mistake. Western literature is littered with heroes (both fictional and real) who know they will inevitably meet with complete failure, or who are self-sabotaging, only a few of whom are referred to in the text. Achilles, Socrates, Nicias, Brutus, Cato, Cicero, Beowulf, Othello, Robert E. Lee, Gatsby, Robert Jordan, and Winston Smith are some examples.
  
  This particular version is after my own heart as it contains a typo in the Table of Contents--where it reads "Diety" instead of "Deity". Some of the formatting is a bit unusual, too. Nevertheless I highly recommend it.
• 
  Nicholas

  A great book with a good overview of Japanese history explored through it's cultural myths and legends. Morris is eloquent and concise, and his work is thoroughly researched (almost half of this study's pages are notes and references - truly a treasure trove for researchers). I find a lot of the myths really compelling, and the conclusions Morris draws are right on the money. His thesis is relatively simple: Japan idolizes and remembers it's historic failures much more than successes. There's something about being committed to an ideal or a cause to the bitter end, even if it's wrong, that resonates strongly with the warrior culture of Japan. But not just there, I think that in contemporary American culture, with its attraction to whimsy, instantaneous gratification, and billion channel satellites, there can be found a certain respect for people who can commit themselves solidly to a cause. There's something romantic about lost causes in general that I think people identify with, the almost types of stories get embedded in our culture as well (here I'm thinking of Rudy).
  
  A good read for a piece of dense and thorough scholarship.
• 
  Paul Fulcher

  Ivan Morris's thesis is best stated in his introduction: "Napoleon's panegyrists rarely dwell on the period after Waterloo, whereas if he belonged to the Japanese tradition his cataclysm and it's bitter aftermath would be central to the heroic legend."
  
  He focuses on the preference in Japanese history and culture for tragic heroes - heroes than didn't just fail, but crucially knew they were destined to fail but sacrificed themselves nevertheless.
  
  This is illustrated by 10 case studies of such heroes, starting in the 4th century and ending with the World War II Kamikaze pilots (which as he points out were actually called Shimpu at the time).
  
  In each case study, Morris gives an excellent overview of the character and his (it is always his) life and times, their tragic and heroic end, and also their posthomous history and reputation. He also does his best to separate history from myth - although as he points out the myth is actually more important in many cases to his hypothesis than the reality.
  
  The book also gives an excellent view of Japanese history over the last 1500 years, since the characters involved typically played a pivotal role in key events. Morris's style is also highly accessible - his footnotes actually take up a third of the book, but the book can be read without reference to them, unlike many similar books where one spends half the time flicking back and forth between the main text and appendices.
  
  The one tragic figure ("hero" is more questionable) without a dedicated chapter is Mishima Yukio, whose views instead feature throughout the book. Morris acknowledges him as a personal friend, while admitting they had strong differences of views, particularly on politics and indeed on their interpretation of many of the heroes in the book.
  
  Finally a disclaimer - I was provided with a review copy of this book from the publisher, although the views expressed are my own.
  
• 
  Christopher

  A really quite excellent summation of the Japanese obsession with tragic heroes and a little about how and why it is such a big thing in both their mythology and history.
  
  The case studies are compelling even when, in some instances, the figures themselves I found decisively unsympathetic. But I have always been one who prefers the effective Machiavellian pragmatism of the real winners, whether posterity agrees or not is of little consequence. Morris was not a partisan however, and gives figures such as Ashikaga Takauji a proper and fair appraisal.
• 
  James Varney

  A gorgeous book; one that stays with you forever. Morris takes such an unusual topic - to Western minds, anyway - and spins a rich book. Taking one "hero" from many different centuries allows Morris to roam around Japan and illuminate the spirit that excites the Japanese mind (even if almost all of the action takes place on Honshu and Kyushu). In doing so, the reader feels immersed in Japan in ways a more traditional narrative can't; it's exotic, yes, but it's also told with tremendous respect and awe. I love this book.
• 
  Cristian

  
  Si eres un apasionado del cuento y la historia de japón este libro es imprescindible. El análisis de Ivan Morris, por otra parte muy adecuado para esta obra, es soberbia y el desarrollo de este ensayo-homenaje al héroe trágico japones es absolutamente sobrecogedor. A cuanto más nos acercamos a la época actual más profundo es la narrativa de la descripción sin que ello suponga elementos subjetivos.
• 
  Laurel

  A engaging summary of Japanese history through the eyes of some of its staunchest losers: people who threw their lives behind a cause even while knowing its futility. There is something in this idealism and sincerity which resonates strongly with me, and clearly (given the ongoing admiration of these historical figures) with the Japanese people.
• 
  Serdar

  Nothing short of shameful that this pioneering bit of historical psychology is out of print. A detailed look at a number of historical figures from Japan venerated not despite but because of their failure to achieve their stated goals.
• 
  Luis

  Excelente libro, para entender en profundidad la cultura e historia detrás de los últimos héroes del Japón, muy diferentes a los héroes occidentales.
• 
  Richard

  Nobility has many features one would like to see in a scholarly book. First, it is based on a seemingly comprehensive review of primary and secondary sources in both English and Japanese. These are carefully integrated into the narrative.
  
  Second, Morris made his argument in a well organized manner. The book began with a 7 page outline chronology of Japanese history followed by about 350 pages of text, 130 pages of annotated footnotes, a 30 page glossary of Japanese terms, and an extensive bibliography.
  
  Third, he demonstrated his expertise in Japanese political and cultural history by providing a thorough explanation of the manner in which these dynamic forces set the stage for the particular hero he was writing about. In one chapter the author provided a somewhat lengthy but carefully elucidated and readily understandable explanation of the Confucian beliefs which led one man, Oshio Heihachiro, to lead a futile uprising in 1837 against the corruption and economic injustices of the Tokugawa central government. In other chapters he provided elaborate descriptions of the hero’s life with comments about their personality, etc.
  
  Finally, Morris’ prose was primarily direct and reasonably concise. His expertise as a translator of Japanese into English allowed him to provide many, sometimes lengthy, translations of narratives and poetry in a way that added much depth and richness to the text. So did his use of Japanese terms at times. But a translation for these was always provided.
  
  The only criticism I would offer of Nobility is that its comprehensiveness sometimes got to be a bit of TMI. Ie, it was a proverbial ‘victim of its own success’ in some respects.
  
  Overall, however this is a very solid, well written piece of scholarship which will add a great deal to the reader’s knowledge of Japanese history and culture while learning about some fascinating and important men. One does not need to know much about the country’s history and culture to benefit from reading Nobility because Morris does such a fine job of providing the context in the narrative.
• 
  Joe

  Great collection of historical Japanese lives that demonstrates a broader point. The author's thesis is that Japanese people are unique in how they celebrate the failed heroes in their history.
  
  My favorite chapter is about a Christian who led a doomed rebellion in Kyushu. It is a great contrast with the martyrs in early Christendom. Japan learned different lessons from the Japanese failures than the West did from its own martyrs. Maybe that's because Japan already had a long history of admiring people who had died for a lost cause.
  
  I was also reminded of the Stoics in the final chapter, which delves into the psychology of WWII kamikaze pilots. Like
  practicing Stoics, many of them practiced imagining their death so they would be prepared for it.
  
  Fans of
  Mishima will also enjoy this book. The author knew Mishima personally and was clearly influenced by him. There are several points where the author includes Mishima's opinions. The chapter about Saigo Takamori is probably the best chapter in the book, and Mishima had a lot to say about him.
  
  The book can also serve as an introduction to Japanese history. There is a chapter for nearly every major phase of Japanese history and a handy timeline at the beginning to understand the historical context of what has changed in Japan between the time of one failed hero and the next. So even if you're not convinced by the author's thesis, you'll find an engaging intro to Japan here. Recommended for anyone interested in Japan, but admittedly I liked it because of the unique perspective that Japanese history puts on martyrs.
• 
  P

  Liked the chapter on the Minamoto brothers. Yoshitsune truly was a tragic figure. Being an orphan, he tried to find a father figure in his older half-brother but was sorely disappointed. Shizuka's fate was no less tragic. Learnt a lot about clan rivalries (Tairas vs. Minamotos, Mononobes vs. Sogas) and marriage politics in the Heian period.
  Crown Prince Naka was another interesting historical figure. His incestuous relationship with his half-sister (same mother, different father) and later aunt, was scandalous because her husband, the reigning Emperor, was still alive. He framed his half-brother, Prince Furuhito, and had him killed. He thought up an elaborate scheme to ensnare his cousin, the man who should've been king, Prince Arima and executed him. I thoroughly sympathized with Prince Arima. He would've been isolated at court after losing his only ally, his father, the Emperor, at a young age. He probably blamed Prince Naka for the death of his father.
• 
  Jim Dickinson

  Great book to understand the way the Japanese view their history.
• 
  Willdawson9

  Great! One of the best history books I've read.
• 
  Mary Catelli

  The history of an attitude. He traces half a dozen tragic heroes from their initial, meteoric success, through their downfall and honorable deaths. A perfect Aristotelian tragedy except that they don't have a tragic flaw. At least in Japanese eyes. In Japanese eyes, they fell because of their sincerity, their purity, their single-minded devotion. Aristotle might regard it as a fault -- escaping the Golden Mean, or at least not selecting the proper object of loyalty -- but in Japan, that's proof that they really are just too good for this earth.
  
  He carefully pieces together what really is known and what is said. And what gets conveniently pared off for not matching the myth. Oddly enough, this is more for the villains of the piece than the heroes. Sometimes this is because there is less known about the heroes, which gives more flexibility, but the myth tends to shear off any of an opponent's motives for acting as they did. Yoshitsune's brother, who hunted him to his death, had reasons for his actions. Yoshitsune had a tendency to exceed orders, and he had accepted honors from the emperor without the approval of his brothers. Does this get mentioned in the legends? Even as the brother's obviously inadequate excuse? Of course not! The brother is motivated purely by spite, envy and vindictiveness. And some of his supporters get blackened as well for their part. And this happens over and over and over again.
  
  Morris emphasizes a little too much the contrast between Western success and Japanese failure. These heroes tend to get posthumously exonerated and praised. Sugawara No Michizane -- the rare one who died in his bed -- was regarded as the author of any number of disasters that followed after his death and hit the family of his opponents. And of course, how did King Arthur end up? Or Roland? Or Robin Hood?
  
  But the Japanese models are interesting. And the stories really are tragic, even if half (three quarters? ninety percent?) fiction.
• 
  Mircalla

  l'estetica del perdente
  
  saggio storico sul tema della sconfitta nella cultura giapponese
  ogni capitolo racconta la storia di un eroe giapponese, la sola caratteristica che hanno in comune tra loro è il fatto di esser stati prima vittoriosi, poi caduti e infine morti suicidi...le storie in se si somigliano tutte, tranne brevi dettagli come nel caso in cui le conseguenze nefaste a volte hanno spinto i persecutori a riabilitare i vinti dopo la morte gloriosa, quando per loro nulla sarebbe cambiato e non sarebbe costato niente a nessuno ammettere di aver perseguitato un innocente...l'estetica dello sconfitto è il tema poetico per eccellenza in Giappone, infatti si ricordano soltanto gli eroi caduti, di quelli che li hanno spinti a cadere a stento si tramanda il nome, a volte coperto di calunnie per i giochi sporchi che i vincenti spesso fanno a danno dei vinti prima e dopo la caduta...una menzione a parte per l'ultimo capitolo che parla dei piloti suicidi della Seconda Guerra mondiale, pur comprendendo assolutamente le ragioni di quei poveretti non si riesce a sfuggire alla sensazione che quel capitolo sia stato messo in calce a giustificare la decisione di sganciare la Bomba che mise fine alla guerra e allo stesso tempo alla percezione di dignità dell'intero popolo giapponese...
• 
  Peter

  I recently re-read this for the first time in more than 40 years. It was still great. The tales are of people who set off to do the right thing and pursue that goal to the bitter end.
  Perhaps a tale for our times as well. Apart from the sorry story of the kamikaze, the saddest tale for me continues to be Yoshitsune, who always tried to do the right thing and was too sincere and trusting of his blood relatives.