While I actually finished The Frolic of the Beasts (1961, tr: Andrew Clare, 2018) by Yukio Mishima way back at the end of January, I’ve sat on it, wondering what to actually say about it. The truth is that I found it rather dull and have little to say. 

The prologue in The Frolic of the Beasts opens with a photograph “taken a few days before the final wretched incident”, and the occasion of its taking. The photo is of three graves near the fishing village of Iro, but as we soon find out, only two are occupied. The third awaits someone. 

The three at the centre of the story are Yukio, her husband, Ippei, and her lover, Koji. It’s the latter’s release from prison that sets the narrative off, although it’s quick to whip back in time to the crime that put him there. Koji’s thumping of Ippei with a wrench – leaving him effectively trapped in his useless body – is an early example of the untamed human nature that pulses through the novel.. 

It’s the first Mishima I’ve read since thoroughly enjoying The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With the Sea (1963) almost twenty years ago, and I was looking forward to returning to his work. But while I could see lovely writing, and enjoyed the premise, I just found its narrative drive sorely lacking, and it never really sang to be picked up between readings.