Western Media has heavily impacted the Eastern World for decades with references to European culture found throughout modern Eastern Media. Many films and other pieces of art and music from the West would find their way across the world and into Asia, reshaping the people’s views of what life was like across the world. In 1965 The Sound of Music was released world-wide. The film was a dramatic account of pre-war Austria as the Nazis were taking over Europe. Its music, cinematic beauty, enduring hope, and use of a prominent Austrian family caught the attention of audiences around the globe. Its goal was to illuminate the dichotomy of good versus evil.  An American-made film designed to entertain viewers while revealing the effects of World War II and Nazi Rule on the people of Austria and Europe at large. It was a film which would garner sympathy for the Austrians and provide viewers with a foreshadowing of the horrendous rule of Nazi Germany. With images of war and destruction still lingering in their thoughts, The Sound of Music recalled a story of how beautiful and privileged Austrian life was before the war and how changed Europe would become after the war.

In Japan, over a hundred thousand civilians had been killed when the United States dropped atomic bombs on the cities of Nagasaki and Hiroshima. The Japanese, along with the Italians and the Germans, had lost the war losing thousands of troops in the process and their land had been decimated and filled with radiation. Following the war, they had a large uphill battle ahead of them. Reformation of their land would require assistance from the United States and its allies which would greatly impact their eastern lifestyles. In the political unrest that remained and with the spread of Communism, The Sound of Music provided a glimpse into the revered life of pre-war Austrians. It also gave viewers, especially those too young to remember life before World War II, a heavily Americanized version of the privilege and finery of wealthy, white Europeans. With little real knowledge about the war due to the Japanese Government restraining information, this film, which was loved and watched all over Japan, was the only understanding they had. The hope of persevering displayed against a beautiful landscape with light overcoming darkness, gave them a world to where they could escape. The love shown for the film and the representation of it in Japanese literature and art suggests that a large majority of people were sympathetic towards the very people they had fought against. As though they sided with these people who their government sought to eliminate instead of supporting their government’s goal of global domination. A film, made by the country that had destroyed their land with atomic bombs, starring wealthy, white, European actors telling the exaggerated story of one family’s escape from Nazi rule had found its niche among the oppressed citizens of Japan who were under reconstruction at the hands and influence of the United States Government.

Haruki Murakami’s novel Kafka on the Shore, an Oedipal-themed tale of a young man on a mission to find his estranged mother, and thereby find himself, intertwines between reality and an alternate world, one where dreams come to life and grave choices are made. One world represents the light, it occurs during the day, while Kafka is awake, and correlates to good, while the dark world exists in his dreams, and is where evil is conducted. Much like Kafka on the Shore, The Sound of Music highlights the line between good and evil while telling the story of one character’s loss of innocence and determination to find love. Kafka, the main character in Murakami’s novel, is in search of his mother and her love. He embarks on a life-changing journey, rebuking the fate laid out before him by his father. His character seeks the same courage to follow his heart that the main character, Maria, in The Sound of Music seeks when she embarks on her journey to become the governess to the von Trapp children. She sings, “I’m a stream of the things I am seeking, I am seeking the courage I lack” (Andrews). Murakami’s character utilizes a split in his personality, that he refers to as The Boy Named Crow, to convince himself to be strong and not overcome by fear. Murakami also ties Kafka in with Maria’s lyric that “strength lies in nights of peaceful slumber” (Andrews). Until Kafka finds his mother and discovers the truth about why she abandoned him, his half-filled soul will remain open to the evils of night and he will remain weakened by his inability to find strength in peaceful slumber.

The culmination of the story occurs when Kafka finds himself in a magical world, one where the past and present exist on the same plane, but where reality cannot be found nor can it find Kafka. Within this beautiful “place too small to be called a town” where “a small stream running alongside a road” with “beautiful clear water, gurgles pleasantly”, Kafka finds his escape from life and the peace he needs to sort his mind (Murakami 416-417). When he enters the cabin within this place he finds an old TV set. Upon turning it on he discovers The Sound of Music is playing. He recalls it being one of the few movies he’d seen as a child and was taken to see it by his teacher. As Kafka watches he finds himself enamored with the film once again. He recalls the memory of seeing it as one of few that were good. He mentions the fact that Captain von Trapp is a “difficult, uptight father”, undoubtedly reminding him of his own father, and he ponders how much different his life would have been had he had a woman like Maria in it (Murakami 419). The film represents a perfect world to Kafka, one with blooming flowers and beautiful, kind women who are motherly and loving. Instead of using an authentic Japanese film with native actresses Murakami wanted to show the reader what Kafka considered to be good, what most Japanese citizens considered to be good, and what was good could be found in the lovely world of Caucasian Europe. Maria stands as a stark opposition to his own mother. Maria was caring and provided love and discipline for children who were not even hers, while Kafka’s biological mother had abandoned him, leaving him to the misplaced wrath of his jilted father. Kafka ponders the purpose of this particular film in this particular place, asking, “Why in the world do I have to watch The Sound of Music right now? Why that movie?”, missing out on the symbolism of the event (Murakami 420). Much like his conversation with the two soldiers when the tall one said, “Memories can be a great symbol too,” the film represents good memories from long ago (Murakami 403). Kafka doesn’t quite understand that this film, one that tells of a dream world, where beautiful white people are able to flee an oppressive government, where women are motherly and loving, a film that shows good ultimately beating evil, is a direct representation of the life Kafka dreamed of as a young boy when he first viewed the film.

Kafka awakens after a deep sleep with the theme song from the film, “Edelweiss”, playing in his head. The lyrics in the song “Edelweiss” tell of the precious national flower of Austria. It is described as “small and white, clean and bright”, much like his heavenly surroundings are in this land of in-between. Although the song wasn’t actually as popular in Austria as the film depicts, the general sense of loyalty to one’s homeland and the never-ending holdover that all which is white and clean is pure, are heavily represented in the few lyrics. In this place of serenity and beauty Kafka is reminded of his good memories as he continues his search for love. Upon entering the kitchen, where he hears noises, Kafka finds his deceased, theorized mother, currently taking the form of a 15-year-old girl, standing there. She tells Kafka, “…if you need me, I’ll be here.” These words are foreign to Kafka especially coming from someone presumed to be his mother. When this form takes on the older version of Miss Saeki, Kafka states that he’s “come here to meet you one more time”, as though he understands that this is a moment of closure for him (Murakami 423). Miss Saeki goes on to explain that she did indeed leave behind someone very important whom she should have taken with her. She asks for forgiveness and tells Kafka that she loves him. This depiction of his mother as caring and doting, much like Maria, brings Kafka full circle. He has found his love in finding his mother and sister, and his courage in facing his fate head-on and alone. Kafka finally leaves the enchanted place to start his new, changed life just as the von Trapp family does in the film.

Halfway across the continent of Asia sat India, previously held by the British. India had fought against Japan, and the Axis, to retain their land during World War II. By then end of the war, after having profited greatly from their Allied involvement, India had grown exponentially and was able to gain its freedom from the United Kingdom in 1947. The civilian people of India were heavily influenced by the British for decades before their independence was won, and references to the reverence of whiteness would be found in art and literature for many years to come.

In the novel The God of Small Things, by Arundhati Roy, a set of fraternal twins, belonging to an upper-middle class family in India, experience a life-altering event when their half-British cousin Sophie Mol comes to visit. Prior to the visit that would forever change the lives of the characters within the story a string of events would occur that would line up to shape the fate of Sophie Mol. Much like in Kafka on the Shore, the film The Sound of Music is alluded to in The God of Small Things as a symbol of the dichotomy of good versus evil.

The twins, and especially the narrator of the story, the female twin named Rahel, are fascinated with the English, and long to live in a world where they have fair skin, colorful features, and the acceptance and respect that comes with being of European descent. Rahel is obsessed with the physical attributes of Sophie Mol because these differences separate the two cousins. Sophie Mol’s light eyes, skin and hair are considered more beautiful and desirable than Rahel’s contrasting dark features. Since the twins have never met Sophie Mol, they relate her to the European characters in the film The Sound of Music, which they’ve now seen twice, as they adore the film and the soundtrack.

The day before Sophie Mol and her mother are due to arrive, the twins are taken to Cochin to see “The Sound of Music” for a third time. Rahel sees the film as magic, at one point saying that the cinema hall had “a magical, Sound of Music smell…” (Roy 94). Estha, her twin brother, loves the film’s songs so much that when they begin he can’t stop himself from singing aloud even when he realizes that he’s bothering the other moviegoers. This action would result in a sexual assault on Estha, as he is forced to go in the hall and sing. While alone in the hall, an Orangedrink salesman abuses him. This is yet another showcase of the contrast of good versus evil, with the contrast of the goodness and purity of the film that Estha has immersed himself into versus the evil reality of his current situation.

During the time period when The Sound of Music was released the characters in The God of Small Things were controlled by Love Laws that dictated who people could love and have sexual relations with, and class was a major factor in that dictation. The dark skinned Parvans were among the lowest class and were considered to be ‘Untouchables’, meaning that people of higher class should not interact with them, especially sexually. The twins’ mother falls in love with a Parvan man and is forbidden to be with him due to the Love Laws. This forbidden relationship is similar to the growing love between the eldest von Trapp daughter and a young Nazi soldier-in-training. As the teenagers’ relationship grows, the young soldier begins to shun the von Trapp girl because her father refuses to join the regime. While the von Trapps are of high class in society, their political position has left a divide between the people of Austria and makes relationships between those sides taboo.

The twins’ uncle, Chacko, has a daughter, Sophie Mol, with his English ex-wife. Chacko greatly admires his ex-wife’s European features and feels a sense of great pride in having a light skinned daughter. Chacko still calls his ex-wife his wife because he holds tight to the hope that they will get back together. However, in discussion with his mother about marrying someone who came from those who conquered them he responds that “…war that has made us adore our conquerors and despise ourselves” (Roy 52). Chacko understands that he is a product of this very notion and sees the twins’ obsession with The Sound of Music as an “extended exercise in Anglophilia” (Roy 54).

In “A Reader’s Guide”, a supplemental interview with the novel’s author, Roy explains that she, just like the twins, would travel to Cochin to see The Sound of Music when it was playing. She states that she made the two-hour journey to view the film seven times. She also admits that she didn’t like the movie, but that watching it “was an institution, a thing we did”, which tells the readers of the weight of influence the film had on everyone (Roy 328). In post-war, newly independent India, a film illuminating the colonial holdover of the high regard for the British would heavily impact young children searching for some understanding of that which is opposite of themselves. In the magical world of Hollywood these young children of India could lose themselves in the music and goodness of the film, and dream of a life where they are the revered.

In the novels Kafka on the Shore and The God of Small Things, the film The Sound of Music is portrayed, providing key information to the effects the film had on the post-war Eastern mindset. Both novels contain a strong sense of dichotomy in relation to evil and goodness, just like the film. The common use of such a profound depiction of pre-war life and a sense of innocence in the West against the starkly different post-war life and loss of innocence in the East suggests that the emotions prevalent in the 1960s were felt world-wide and were universal in understanding. In looking more deeply into the usage of Western influence, especially that of The Sound of Music, in literature from post-war Asia we are able to better understand the emotional volatility that was a common theme. Whether one was in the newly independent India, released from British Rule a decade prior and still heavily influenced by the British culture, or one was from war-stricken Japan, recently released of occupation by American forces in their attempt to reconstruct the country, The Sound of Music represented the goodness, beauty, and magic of a life of white privilege and European reverence. It told the story of escape and survival from evil, while displaying the glory and prominence associated with upper class European stature.  Ideals from this film were used to contrast the great differences among the Western and Eastern Cultures, to showcase the effects of Nazi rule on Europeans, and to explore the interminable dichotomy of good vs evil.

 

Works    Cited:

 

Murakami, Haruki. Kafka on the Shore. London: Vintage, 2005. Print.

 

Roy, Arundhati. The God of Small Things. New York: Random House, 1997. Print.

 

Rodgers, Richard, Oscar Hammerstein, Julie Andrews, Bill Lee, and Charmain Carr. The Sound of Music Original Soundtrack. RCA Victor/Legacy, 1965. Original Score.

 

In the exploration of self, the memoir is crafted, both as a form of artistic expression and as a release of authentic voice. Criteria for success in a memoir stems from the general notion that a reader will gain as much self-realization and insight as the writer portrays, through a related sense of growth and experience. With consideration of the parameters of a good memoir, as detailed in differing, yet not contrasting, ways throughout William Zinsser’s “Introduction to Inventing the Truth” and Henry Louis Gates, Jr.’s “Lifting the Veil”, Mark Salzman’s memoir Lost in Place successfully fulfills the requirements laid forth in Zinsser’s work, as bell hook’s memoir Bone Black finds success in meeting the stipulations presented by Gates, Jr.. These drastically different memoirs each find accomplishment in their individual approach, and are supported by the comparative criteria of Gates, Jr. and Zinsser.

When a writer seeks to bring his or her life to story, there are foundations of truth and history that must be strategically developed in a way that allows for proper craftsmanship of the memoir. This task is easily accomplished in Mark Salzman’s crafting of his memoir, Lost in Place. From the opening words, a heartfelt and honest dedication to the father who so intrinsically shaped his life, to the emancipated, adult response to his father at the end of his memoir when he stated that “…not everything works out the way you want it to. You learn to live with it though”, Salzman flawlessly builds his memoir on solid foundations of self-actualization blended with a developing sense of reality (Salzman, M. pg. 268-269).

As with all writing, crafting a memoir involves a release of emotive thought. Yet unlike other forms of prose, it demands introspective research that ultimately influences the resulting work in a personal, and oftentimes private, way. William Zinsser wrote that “Memoir is the best search mechanism that writers are given”, a concept that is realized throughout Salzman’s memoir (Zinsser, W. pg. 6). From his early, and incredibly astute, understanding that his father’s “angst created an opening for {him}”, an opportunity to carve out an identity of my own…all I had to do was become happy”, to his eventual realization that, regardless of his ability to successfully extract his own identity from that of his father’s, he had inherited many of the traits and pessimistic patterns that he tried to escape, Salzman effectively explores his sense of self through a myriad of personal quests (Salzman, pg. 20). Yet despite his ever-changing pursuit of happiness, and the various avenues he utilized in his search for enlightenment, it was his heritage, his pre-determined destiny, to become a man shaped by the values and ideals set forth by his father.

The more effortlessly a personal story flows, the less distracted a reader becomes by minute details that support the memory, but not the memoir. This intentional structuring of pertinent information is what makes a good memoir easy and pleasant to read. Through proper development of story, engagement and interest are easily maintained, leaving the reader free to insert their own experiences into their understanding of the work, and allowing nostalgia to draw them in. In addition to the crafting of the memoir, this expression of art is vital to its success, as described by Zinsser in his statement that “Memoir is how we try to make sense of who we are, who we once were, and what values and heritage shaped us” (Zinsser, W. pg. 6). Lost in Place quickly, and easily, establishes a solid structure that is rounded by the relatable and entertaining memories of Salzman’s quest for self-realization.

In a comparative, yet paradoxically parallel, exploration of success in the memoir, Henry Louis Gates, Jr. also calls for use of heritage, to give an authentic voice to those who share in a writer’s plight, yet don’t have the means or ability to express themselves.  This use of heritage is brilliantly illustrated in bell hooks’ memoir Bone Black. hooks constructs her memoir in chronological order, carrying the reader through each experience that has ultimately created her “struggle to create self and identity distinct from and yet inclusive of the world around me” (hooks, b., pg. xi). From exquisitely detailed portraits of the various women who have influenced and shaped her worldly vision, through which hooks beautifully illuminates the defining cultural accents discovered in each, to the earnest use of “irony and wit and self-deprecation, and also by being honest, or revelatory, about pain and fear”, hooks weaves her experiences into the fabric of her heritage, creating a work of art that transcends prose and portrait (Louis Gates Jr., pg. 109).

As hooks carries a reader through the life of a southern, black girl, she inundates her memories with her realized adult understanding of the societal oppression that shaped her experiences. Throughout her youth, hooks experienced life from the inside of a glass bottle, able to see the other side through the muddled and distorted lens well enough to know that she was trapped, walled in by her ethnicity. What begins as a youthful reflection of heritage through traditional cultural references, evolves into an exceedingly adult understanding of graver issues, such as segregation and racial discord. This darkness, that hooks comes to own in her unabashedly raw portrayal of self, perfectly executes the “unfolding of ego” that Louis Gates Jr. calls for in a memoir, and fulfils the requirement that the writer “deflect your presence…to move yourself to the periphery” (Louis Gates, Jr., pg. 109). Through intricate connections between hooks’ personal experiences and those of her larger community, past and present, she fashions a network of memories that follow her ascent from youth to adulthood, while demonstrating the internal descent she experienced as a result of the suppressive influences that altered her existence.

If inclusion of heritage and well-developed craftsmanship quantify a good memoir, as suggested by Zinsser in “Introduction…”, then Bone Black exceeds the requirements. Yet it is not in this realization that her memoir finds success, rather it is in the vulnerability of hooks’ writing, and the telling of a “new collective history” by giving voice to a “historically oppressed or narratively excluded group”, that Bone Black revels in artistic glory (Louis Gates Jr., pg. 111). As she recalls the many protections she had to take to guard herself against prejudice and hate, hooks garners empathy from readers who have established a deep connection with her over the course of the memoir, and a sense of comradery from those who have lived through the same hardships and have shared in the injustice. Louis Gates Jr. speaks of the need for this connection in his piece, “Lifting the Veil”, stating, “I think it’s very important for people in marginalized groups to tell multi-layered stories that address the problems of their oppression…their story has to be something that works like art. It has to work on several narrative levels” (Louis Gates, Jr., pg. 112). Bone Black accomplishes just that, in a deeply powerful and evocative way. hooks’ summation of story gives light to her bone black darkness in the release of her authentic voice, and the representation it provides any reader who has experienced oppression, whether that be of spirit, ability, freedoms, and rights, or all these and more.

The true art of a well-crafted memoir is found in the connection between reader and writer. The ability to construct a narrative based on real-life experiences and memories is difficult to achieve. Yet even upon accomplishment of this arduous task, success has not been established until some link is made between the storyteller and the audience. As defined by both Zinsser and Gates, Jr., success in a memoir constitutes a combination of healthy self-deprecation, a collective sense of heritage and past, and an authentic voice, one that entices relatability, while maintaining true originality. Bone Black and Lost in Place accomplish these, and many other, requirements in their search for acceptance, each finding success in the crafting of their memories.

 

   Works Cited

 

hooks, bell. Bone Black: Memories of Girlhood. New York: Henry Holt, 1996.

Salzman, Mark. Lost in Place: Growing Up Absurd in Suburbia. New York: Random House, 1995.

Zinsser, William. Inventing the Truth: The Art and Craft of Memoir. “Introduction to Inventing the Truth”. Boston & New York: Mariner Books, Houghton Mifflin, 1998.

Zinsser, William. Inventing the Truth: The Art and Craft of Memoir. Excerpt: Gates, Jr., Henry Louis. “Lifting the Veil”. Boston & New York: Mariner Books, Houghton Mifflin, 1998.