Book Review: "The Box Man" by Kōbō Abe

I am going to be shivering about this haunting, spooky and chilling tale for a long while after I have written this review. I cannot imagine this actually happening in real life but I think that the "Box" seems to be a metaphor for covering yourself with a protective layer of thick skin against social ridicule. It is a brilliant metaphor and ends up becoming the central narrative for people who spy on others, people who are suicidal and even people who want to contemplate life and death without the talk and judgement of others. To me, life in a box does not actually sound that bad. You don't have to talk to anyone if you don't want to and you are entirely in your own space. You don't pay rent, you don't pay for heating and water - you just buy when you need. Of course, I can see several downsides to this and in reality, it would not work. But it serves as a pretty good metaphor for the incredible amounts of social isolation suffered by the protagonist and what this leads to as his own identity starts to fall and crumble before him.

Kōbō Abe's writing was absolutely incredible to read because at the same time it can be both beautiful and grotesque, both surface-layer and philosophically deep, and it could also be both existential and yet, nonsensical. It is like he is trying to make a point that language is able to do anything, even its complete opposite. But one thing about the writing that is mostly true is that it is eerie, creepy and absolutely haunting. It lingers and though it sounds incredibly raw, there is something that is natural in the human understanding of death that is directly challenged. I think that it is this that makes you think about the book in the moment. It is as if it lingers in your mind even though you do not want to think about it.

Let us take a look at some of my favourite quotations:

"An uncomfortable numbness formed an oval round A's mouth. Running steps in a dream. With bates breath A waited for the next movement. The box man did not budge. No, he had...he was clearly moving. The inclination was definitely increasing not so fast as the second hand of a watch but faster than the minute hand. Was he going to fall over? From the box came a sound like a scraping on not fully dry clay. Suddenly, the box man arose. He was unexpectedly tall. A heard a sound like that of striking a wet tent. Slowly changing his direction, the box man gave a low cough and stretched. He began to walk, swingin the box slightly right and left..."

The description of the person in the box getting up and making a noise is almost like Frankenstein's Monster awakening. It's slow and eerie and even though there is nothing visually frightening about it, there is something really creepy and silent about the way in which this happens and how it is different from anything the reader has ever seen before.

"Of course, I am remorseful now. Or rather it may be better to say that I am absolutely depressed by the premonition that I shall be made to feel serious remorse. A wretched feeling. No matter how I think about it, it is not like a box man. It is as if I have abandoned the prerogatives of a box man. If there is hope, it is so subtle as to be undetectable even with a high-energy analyser. Is some transformation beginning to take place in my box? Perhaps so."

The terms of remorse, depression and these identity-related disorders that the character gets at the beginning of the book, or at least references to, get worse as the book progress. There are certain ones that are acted upon such as the anxieties that come as a result of extreme social isolation - things like spying instead of initially talking to someone.

"Writhing in a pain that floods to the very tips of its toes, the sham fish suddenly arrives at the fatal suspicion that he is perhaps fake. The instant doubt begins, everything becomes very strange. When one has the body of a fish, without any vocal cords to begin with, to say nothing of hands or feet, one is plagues in one's use of such words. Double perception is as irritating as an itch."

The language of pain in this book is something to be admired. When you read some of the more graphic descriptions of pain, violence and hurt - you can almost feel it underneath your own skin - like its driving into your core. It is such an incredible atmosphere.

"The dark, wet sky and the black sea fused at eye level. The water was much darker than the sky. A deep black like an elevator falling. A bottomless black that you could still see even if you shut your eyes. I could hear the sea. I could see the inside of my own cranium. A dome-shaped tent whose inner struts are exposed. Exactly like the inside of a dirigible. My complete lack of sleep sends my blood pounding. I want to sleep. I wanted to sleep at least two or three hours before leaving the box..."

All in all, the book is a brilliant representation of physical violence, self-induced pain and emotional turmoil. It is an amazing book that I would say that you should experience for yourself.