[Reading] Philosophizing Conversation ②
Hello! This is Elzas.
Continuing from last time, I will be writing a book review of "Philosophizing Conversation."
It is a book that explores the essence of communication using conversations exchanged within manga as its subject matter.
The previous article is here ↓
Philosophizing Conversation ②
Even when you know it won't get through
Usually, communication involves a speaker and a listener, right?
However, statements where the listener is absent often appear in manga. But these are not just monologues; they are statements that we still perceive as communication.
A typical example is "speaking to the dead."
There are many scenes where someone speaks of their resolve at a grave to a person who is no longer in this world, aren't there?
Moreover, such scenes are often quite memorable.
If you understand "communication as the transmission of information from a speaker to a listener," this scene is quite mysterious. Since the listener is not in this world, communication should not be possible in the first place.
Yet, we accept it as communication. Why is that?
Here, the idea I introduced last time—that "communication is an act of forming a [shared understanding]"—is useful.
Speaking to the dead appears as a directorial choice to depict words that the speaker is saying sincerely from the bottom of their heart.
Why does it create such sincerity?
(Omitted)
I think it can be explained by finding a prayer-like sentiment of "if only I could form a shared understanding with them, even though it is no longer possible to do so together."
I think it is still a bit abstract and hard to understand. Let's look at a concrete example right away.
The concrete example of "speaking to the dead" introduced is the renowned masterpiece "Maison Ikkoku."
"Maison Ikkoku" / Rumiko Takahashi
Although it is a famous work, I will introduce the synopsis.
I will once again quote extensively from this book.
Set in an old apartment building called Ikkoku-kan, the story depicts the romance between Yusaku Godai, a ronin student living there, and Kyoko Otonashi, the live-in manager, as well as their lively interactions with the other residents. The fact that Kyoko is a widow who lost her husband, Soichiro, has a significant impact on her relationship with Godai. Now, in the final volume of "Maison Ikkoku," at the stage where the two are about to get married, Godai happens to see Kyoko crying while looking through the belongings of her late husband. Seeing her like that, Godai understands once again that Soichiro will never leave Kyoko's heart. The next day, Godai visits Soichiro's grave alone and speaks to him.
You are already a part of Kyoko's heart...
From the day I first met her, you have been inside Kyoko...
I fell in love with that Kyoko.
Therefore...
I will take Kyoko, including you.
What Elzas felt [Supreme Love]
It is such a famous scene that I am already tearing up just writing this, but I will write down what I felt, knowing it may be superfluous.
Supreme LoveI thought this is what it meant.
A love that can cherish even the loved one's love for someone other than oneself.
I think it is a particularly noble form of love. By presenting it not as a message to Kyoko herself, but in the exceptionally sincere form of
speaking to the deceased, Rumiko Takahashi's extraordinary talent shines through. It is a truly moving scene no matter how many times I read it.
Now, reading this far, it seems that communication can form "agreements" even with the deceased. If that is the case, I felt that
by continuously forming sincere agreements with the deceased, people can cultivate a good heart.
Promises with the living should also not be broken, but for some reason, promises with the deceased feel like they carry more weight. Communication is truly profound and mysterious.
See you later!