“A lie, once told, never vanishes, but chases after us.”

The Lake is a surprisingly psychological novel from Kawabata; one whose "dark" feel (and downright depraved main character) and abrupt pace reminds the reader of Osamu Dazai. It does not seem to fit with the other 4 or so novels I've enjoyed by Kawabata, which as I reflect seemed to deal with themes of beauty, transience, nature, and maybe some of the gentler emotions associated with romantic love. In this novel, you have Gimpei, who Kawabata suggests is part of a somewhat "lost generation" (to use a Hemingway term) of post-WWII Japanese men. He is a failure of a teacher who seduced his student and began stalking other women in the aftermath of their broken relationship. Something impressive about this slim work is Kawabata's efficacy at simulating the transition a person experiences between living life and daydreaming. Kawabata's characters weave in and out of their experiences and reflections of their pasts. But told like this, the story conveys a richer narrative to the reader because they're constantly receiving context that explains the characters' (primarily Gimpei) actions. 

It was clear that feet are prominently featured as a symbol and stalking/following is a constant theme in the book, primarily from Gimpei. My interpretation of the text is that Gimpei is attempting to escape his trauma from the war (not mentioned at all in the book, but can be reasonably inferred) or his meaningless conception of life through inappropriate relationships and approaches with women. He finds his life being ruined by his impulses and in a constant downward spiral, but he is disconnected from consequences or morals. "The Lake" of his childhood also may represent some impossible-to-return-to past as well as the origin of his depravity (where he had attempted to drown his cousin with whom he was in love). His frequently mentioned ugly feet symbolize both his "miles walked" in his life and immoral character, although the ending of the book reveals that perhaps he is going to change (he denies sex with a promiscuous woman and his ankle is hit with a rock from an Inari shrine, becoming injured and red). But Kawabata writes, in breezy prose, a dark portrait of this broken man Gimpei and his sexual deviancy to great psychological effect. There are some other minor characters, all connected to Gimpei in some way, who also receive some attention in the narrative and to whose damaged lives Kawabata also devotes some attention, but they didn't grab me in the same way as Gimpei's story. Overall, The Lake is a fascinating look into Gimpei and a deviation from Kawabata's normal storytelling style and purpose that is worth checking out.