Silence in Toshio Mori’s Writings
Classic California Writer Toshio Mori (1910–1980)
Silence means absence of sound, not absence of voice; it can be eloquent when skillfully employed. The concept of silence is alluring to people around the world. Writers like Poe and London have explored silence in their poems and stories. The songwriters have written about it. Who can resist the floating melody of Simon and Garfunkel song sound of silence wafting on the waves of cool evening air or quiet drizzle of rain in the middle of a silent night? Silence leads to introspection, and the sages across the globe practice it to gain enlightenment. Silence is present in Toshio Mori's short stories to the extent that it is not an exaggeration to say that silence is the subject of Mori's short stories; silence manifests itself in many forms in his short stories.
First, Mori announces to his readers that silence is the subject of his writing through his narrator in "Confessions of an Unknown Writer." The protagonist/narrator secretly harbors the desire of becoming a writer while carrying on the mundane tasks of life. He wonders about his subject, "What do I want to say to the world?" he asks, and the answer comes to him,
"The magnificence of a traffic roar and the grandeur of a stinking city. “The lovely silence of death and the lovely silence of life: irresistible, and irritable" (Mori, "Chauvinist" 49). He chooses to write about silence. Mori, the writer, also chooses the same subject.
The choice of the subject of silence is deliberate. But, we don't have to rely on the word of the fictional narrator; the claim is further supported by Mori himself in a note that he includes at the end of The Chauvinist and Other Stories. He writes about the woman, known only by the initials A.M., he met at an Ethnic Writer's Conference in Hawaii.
“The other character in Hawaii I know goes beyond gender. A.M., Hawaiian Nisei, is limited of schooling but learned from much suffering. Her steady, piercing eyes tell me much, and I need very little conversation from her to understand and communicate. We are conscious that we are members of a group who translate with a wordless language.” (Mori, "Chauvinist" 142)
Another form of silence is omission. Mori uses omission to persuade readers to his point of view. By omitting narrative commentary to expose the subtext, he strengthens his argument by its absence. In "Sweet Potato" the protagonist, a writer, and his brother Hiro spend a carefree day at the fair. During the course of the day, the two brothers meet an old woman and her son. The duo had lived in Japan for a long time, and they are eager to share their experiences with the two young Japanese men. Ironically, the brothers have never set foot on the Japanese soil. So, delicately treading through a strange space-warp situation, the four people manage to form an invisible bond. The language and descriptions are terse; the dialogue lingers on facts and never strays into an emotional territory. By omitting authorial commentary or without putting it onto characters' tongues, Mori succeeds in conveying the common bond among the people of different ancestries and generations.
Silence manifests itself in yet another form, lack of dialogue. Many of the stories, Confessions of an Unknown Writer," "He Who has a Laughing Face," and "The Woman Who Makes Swell Doughnuts" among others, are written primarily as interior monologues. It is as if Mori has realized the futility of all superficial human communication. The words are inadequate to carry any meaning. His protagonists and their friends are able to impart meaning with silence, without intrusion of dialogue.
Summarizing the arguments, Mori uses silence in his stories to make a point. He actively chooses silence as his topic, and uses it at three different levels. The "wordless language" that he refers to is the language of silence and to speak it, one needs to look inwards, and apply intuition.
