Heredity of Taste

By Natsume Sōseki

Written in eight days, in December 1905, and published in the January 1906 issue of the magazine Teikoku Bungaku (Imperial Literature), Shumi no iden (The Heredity of Taste) is Soseki Natsume's only anti-war work. Chronicling the mourning process of a narrator haunted by his friend's death, the story reveals Soseki's attitude to the atrocity of war, specifically to the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-5, and to the personal tragedies and loss of individuality of young men like his hero Ko-san, and the sacrifices made by both the living and the dead.

Although the first part of the story powerfully describes the narrator's visions of the war dead, including the recurring vision of Ko-san who cannot climb out of a ditch and return from the war, it is the second half, in which a beautiful and mysterious woman appears before the narrator at Ko-san's grave, with the promise of transcendence, that grips our attention.

The story centers on finding out the identity of this woman and her relationship with Ko-san, with it's implication that what should have been a love story has been shattered by the reality of war-a reminder of the magnitude of Japan's sacrifice for it's so-called victory.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tuttle Publishing
• Release date: Feb 7, 2012
• ISBN: 9781462904747

Natsume Sōseki

Natsume Sōseki (1867-1916) was a Japanese novelist. Born in Babashita, a town in the Edo region of Ushigome, Sōseki was the youngest of six children. Due to financial hardship, he was adopted by a childless couple who raised him from 1868 until their divorce eight years later, at which point Sōseki returned to his biological family. Educated in Tokyo, he took an interest in literature and went on to study English and Chinese Classics while at the Tokyo Imperial University. He started his career as a poet, publishing haiku with the help of his friend and fellow-writer Masaoka Shiki. In 1895, he found work as a teacher at a middle school in Shikoku, which would serve as inspiration for his popular novel Botchan (1906). In 1900, Sōseki was sent by the Japanese government to study at University College London. Later described as “the most unpleasant years in [his] life,” Sōseki’s time in London introduced him to British culture and earned him a position as a professor of English literature back in Tokyo. Recognized for such novels as Sanshirō (1908) and Kokoro (1914), Sōseki was a visionary artist whose deep commitment to the life of humanity has earned him praise from such figures as Haruki Murakami, who named Sōseki as his favorite writer.

Book preview

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Under the influence of the weather, even the gods lose their reason. Let's exterminate mankind! Let loose the ravenous dogs! was the cry that resounded from the heavens to the depths of the Sea of Japan and made it rage in all directions. The cry penetrated as far as Manchuria. As soon as they heard it, the Japanese and Russians responded by creating an immense slaughterhouse in the plains to the north of the Continent of Asia, stretching over more than 400 kilometers. So, under the skies, great hordes of ferocious dogs appeared and sped across the vast expanse. These four-legged bullets tore endlessly through the air, scenting fresh flesh. Delirious in their joy, the gods shouted to the dogs Drink the blood! Tongues darted out effortlessly like flames and lit up the dark earth with their brilliance. The sound of blood spurting down the beasts' throats echoed across the plains. Then the gods, walking on the edge of the black clouds, clamored Devour the flesh! again and again. Devour the flesh! Devour the flesh! The dogs all reared up, barking with one voice. Then, without further delay, they tore limbs to pieces with sinister crunching sounds. Opening their deep jaws from ear to ear, snatching at the trunks of the bodies and tugging at them from all sides, they stripped the skin from the bones. At last, when the gods saw that all the flesh had been devoured, their terrifying voices pierced through the clouds that covered the skies: When you have done with the flesh, go on to the bones and suck them dry! Now, suck the bones! Dog's teeth are better suited to gnawing bones than to devouring flesh. Created by demented gods, the creatures are equipped with instruments perfectly adapted to carrying out their insane commands. Their teeth have been especially designed by the divinities for that purpose. Of that there can be no doubt. Make noise! Make noise! ordered the gods. The dogs planted their fangs with brute force into the bones. Some bones were shattered so that the beasts could eat the marrow. Others were reduced to tiny pieces and made shapes on the earth that might have been paintings. The bones that the dogs' teeth did not manage to destroy were used to sharpen their