An Artist of the Floating World (Vintage International) by Ishiguro Kazuo

Author:Ishiguro, Kazuo [Ishiguro, Kazuo]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
ISBN: 9780307829061
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2012-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

NOVEMBER

1949

My recollection of the first time I ever met Dr Saito remains quite vivid, and I am thus confident enough of its accuracy. It must have been all of sixteen years ago now, on the day after I moved into my house. I recall it being a bright summer’s day, and I was outside adjusting the fence, or perhaps fixing something to the gateway, and exchanging greetings with those of my new neighbours who passed by. Then at one point, after my back had been turned to the path for some time, I became aware that someone was standing behind me, apparently to watch me work. I turned to find a man of around my own age studying with interest my newly inscribed name on the gatepost.

‘So you are Mr Ono,’ he remarked. ‘Well now, this is a real honour. A real honour to have someone of your stature here in our neighbourhood. I am myself, you see, involved in the world of fine art. My name is Saito, from the Imperial City University.’

‘Dr Saito? Why, this is a great privilege. I have heard much about you, sir.’

I believe we went on talking for several moments there outside my gateway, and I am sure I am not mistaken in recalling that Dr Saito, on that same occasion, made several more references to my work and career. And before he went on his way down the hill, I remember his repeating words to the effect of: ‘A great honour to have an artist of your stature in our neighbourhood, Mr Ono.’

Thereafter, Dr Saito and I always greeted each other respectfully whenever we chanced to meet. It is true, I suppose, that after that initial encounter – until recent events gave us cause for greater intimacy – we rarely stopped for prolonged conversations. But my memory of that first meeting, and of Dr Saito recognizing my name on the gatepost, is sufficiently clear for me to assert with some confidence that my elder daughter, Setsuko, was quite mistaken in at least some of the things she tried to imply last month. It is hardly possible, for instance, that Dr Saito had no idea who I was until the marriage negotiations last year obliged him to find out.

Because her visit this year was so brief, and because she spent it staying at Noriko and Taro’s new home in the Izumimachi district, my walk with Setsuko that morning through Kawabe Park was really my only chance to speak properly with her. It is not surprising then that I should be turning that conversation over in my mind for some time afterwards, and I do not think it unreasonable that I now find myself becoming increasingly irritated by certain things she said to me that day.

At the time, however, I could not have been dwelling too deeply on Setsuko’s words, for I recall being in a good enough mood, happy to be in my daughter’s company again, and enjoying walking through Kawabe Park, which I had not done for a while.

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