The book is divided into two parts, during the first of which I thought if my dislike for the book was due to how I seem not to have reconciled with Mishima after reading the abhorrent fascist rambling that is his essay Sun and Steel. But as the second part opened, I was confronted with the bitter reality: that this is a book barely about what the blurbs claim it is, and that for the majority of its length it’s pretty much a romance, which is to say, it’s an incredibly dull book. The only thing I felt through the dreaded hours of reading, besides boredom, was seething disgust against children — yes, in general. As someone who already has an aversion to them, this book solidified it even further, to the point I wish boys were just illegal, as a whole. Never seen one that isn’t an actual sociopath.

Anyway, back to the book: when it isn’t a dull account of a relationship, it’s unending descriptions. Even the entirety of the final act, the supposed climax, is nothing but scenery descriptions. To crown all this, it also cuts off before anything actually takes place. Why? Who knows! Maybe Mishima just wanted his fiction to be as trash as his little fascist essay. I’m so angry at myself for having paid for 4 more of his books. Seriously considering getting rid of them.