ABSTRACT

DESPITE a lasting reputation in Japan, Mori Ōgai has yet to achieve any satisfactory reception in the West. Natsume Sōseki, the only writer of Ōgai's generation to share his stature, has been widely translated and admired, but Ōgai remains a shadowy figure, austere, even obscure. 1 It often happens, of course, that the work of certain writers cannot be sufficiently understood outside their own cultures. Some towering figures never earn anything like their rightful reputation through translation. One thinks of the French playwright and poet Paul Claudel, whose Catholicism and expansive style have so far prevented any effective linguistic adaptations into an English-speaking, Protestant culture.