Reading Natsume Soseki

Natsume Soseki’s literary world consists of the ironic threading together of human consciousness that is more omnipresent than fleeting in relation to Japan’s familiar other-worldliness. Having said that, Japanese fiction allows you to harbor a gentle, kindred spirit of the interior life. It creates these dimensions that comprise of surreal, interesting, and intense personal lives. To me, nothing surpasses the influence of such artistic and interior life stories. The heart of which remains subjective and soulful for anyone – the familiar and unfamiliar in equal measure.

If you haven’t read Soseki, you’re in for an incisive and fantastically refined exploration of the human mind. His writing discovers and lingers on the expandable dimensions of time suffused in reality. Driven by the mania and complexities of human nature, when you juxtaposition his Eastern and Western lens of living, you realise how completely transformative and memorable Soseki’s stories are.

Convincing and shocking, the polarised narratives seem unreal and real, at the same time. His stories are confronting, by nature  and – keeping Kokoro in mind – is even harder to come to terms with once you understand its motives. Soseki helps externalise fear, angst, and the innate, instinctual recesses of the psyche. Finally, his fiction grants you a microscopic view of life. All the blots and gradations that intensify suffering and nullify it.