Stories of those who live in the impassioned shadow of great things.

Krasznahorkai's Nobel Prize win was a little puzzling to me after reading Satantango and The Melancholy of Resistance, his work seems unapproachable. But I get it after Seiobo There Below, if you can get past the 10 page long sentences, this feels like Oprah Book Club bait. Not in a bad way. Just maybe a bit thematically maudlin.

There is an astounding breadth of subject matter traversed between the pages of this book, Krasznahorkai's diligence in research is impressive. There is a particular depth of understanding of Japanese art and culture on display here. Like, in chapter 987 (the chapters are numbered by the Fibonacci sequence), my favorite section of the book, the factual content regarding the Ise shrine is incredible, but also his empathetic apprehension of Kawamoto, his embarrassment with his guest's inability to read the air. A lot can be learned about art history here, and the curious reader is given innumerable threads to follow for further research with Krasznahorkai's references and allusions.

At it's core, Seiobo There Below is about the relationship with humans and the divine conducted through the medium of art. Explorations of how art is actually physically created via natural materials, how the artist functions in society, and how the art impacts the viewer. Writing this, I recall the section about a Louvre security guard's obsession with the Venus De Milo and his thesis that the singular statue channels all previous iterations of that sculpting tradition. At times I didn't enjoy the reading, but now, with the book behind me, my appreciation grows by the minute.

I think the subject matter is arbitrary. "Write what you know," Krasznahorkai is a European with an affinity for Japan, but it is just all Europe and Japan. So much diversity of content within those two regions, yet we never stray further than Granada. Krasznahorkai's created sphere of art and importance is reductive towards the message, with an obvious demonstration of relentlessness and duty to the message of the work, I think it would have been stronger if it wasn't so Euro/Japan centric. Even if it was just European or just Japanese, but with both, it has this inconsistent feeling, like this is just what Krasznahorkai likes to write about. The argument on aesthetics almost undermines itself by being parochial. Maybe this is a tactless woke gripe but it took me out of it a tad.