If anybody wants to file a class action suit against Ōgai Mori for false advertising, I'll gladly sign any document they put in front of me. "Vita Sexualis" has to be the least sexy account of a young man's journey to sexual maturity in existence. The introduction states that the author was writing against the current, so to speak: he wanted to write a novel about sex that would dispense with its more mechanical aspects and couple the theme of sexuality to a character's personal and spiritual nature.

On that score, I suppose that "Vita Sexualis" succeeds, but its main character, Kanei, still makes for an odd subject for an erotic novel of any sort. To put it bluntly: he's got a low sex drive and is much more interested in books than women. This isn't to say he's a prude, exactly, or a wet blanked like David Scherl of "Call It Sleep" or -- though it pains me to include him in this category -- Joyce's Stephen Dedalus. He's self-contained, studious, dutiful, and a bit of an introvert. "Vita Sexualis" doesn't contain any youthful sexual misadventures because it seems that the author doesn't really feel the need for them.

While Kanai is aware enough to recognize sexuality when he sees it, he remains largely innocent throughout much of the book. This works best in the book's first section, when our protagonist is a child: at this point, his confusion about matters sexual seems like a realistic depiction of childhood innocence when confronted with matters beyond its ken. As the book progressed, I rather wished that Kenai would get on with discovering his libido. He never quite does: the narrator, by his own admission, is not too interested in sex.

"Vita Sexualis" offers other pleasures, though. It provides interesting descriptions of nineteenth-century Japan and the ways that it dealt with the passing of the Samurai class and the arrival of Western and Chinese influence in Japanese society. Also of interest is the sometimes peculiar ways that sex was dealt with during this period: you hear about geishas, but also about the surreptitious sale of erotic drawings, marriage contracts, and seemingly normal businesses that doubled as brothels and operated using complex, esoteric secret codes. It's not titillating, but it's interesting. Readers seeking something to get them all het up should probably look elsewhere, though. ( )

Previous review: "to refute this idea- sexuality is portrayed as neither the motivating force in life nor something that one slips into organically. "

It's always worked thus for me. Well, most of the time. Once I was drunk - another time I was tired....

Bring on them flags, Furies!

An interesting fictional record of the sexual (or non-sexual) life of a young Japanese philosopher in the Meiji era. Ogai was opposed to the Japanese naturalist movement, which he believed put sex and sexuality at the root of all actions. He uses this account to refute this idea- sexuality is portrayed as neither the motivating force in life nor something that one slips into organically.
Although the basic premise of the novel seemed to me both truthful and innovative for its time (1909), I thought that it went a little too far in its rejection of eros and sexuality. Still, I enjoyed it much more than his more famous Wild Geese. ( )

This semi-autobiographical novel analyzes the philosophical conflicts of sexual confusion and maturation for not only the work's protagonist, but for the entire Meiji era and its sexual attitudes. The reader glides through a gray pool of subtle glimpses, like seeing the fleeting image of some alien body part previously unknown to the eye. This book is not explicitly sexual nor erotic, but is a philosophical examination of the confusing sexual attitudes in Meiji era Japan. It's strength lies in its subtle language and narrative style. An important precursor to later works by Mishima and Tanizaki, where sexuality is the abstract painting on a canvas of nihilistic obsession. ( )