Shusaku Endo's The Sea and Poison is a difficult book to write about for a number of reasons. I won't be giving anything away by telling you the story concerns the vivisection of two American POWs during WWII. Despite such a harrowing subject matter the telling of the story, although unpleasant at times, was not quite as graphic as I was anticipating. What makes it difficult is that this seemingly simple text, a short novel of only about 160 pages, is weighed down by subtle meaning and a philosophical and ethical quandary at the heart of the novel. The quandary seems fairly cut and dry to me, but looking back on history--even not so distant history, I can only say the capacity for human cruelty seems large.
We meet Doctor Suguro some time after the war, his promising career ruined, abandoned by his wife, and living in a small town an hour outside of Tokyo. He is still practicing medicine but his surgery has a down and out feel to it, seemingly closed and empty. One wonders why he chose such an out of the way location for his practice. A man recently arrived to the area must visit the doctor for treatment for a lung condition, but Suguro won't treat him without first seeing his chest x-ray and following normal protocol. Suguro exudes about him the same feeling of being uncared for--dirt under his nails, an office that is dusty and filled with an odor of general uncleanliness. But it's obvious that Suguro has great skill even if not a sympathetic bedside manner.
"...it seemed that this man with the grey, bloated face had, somewhere or other, gained a considerable amount of medical skill. If he were so capable a doctor, there should have been no need for him to settle in a barren spot like this, so lacking in every attractive feature. Yet he had come. Why, I wondered."
In Fukuoka, as a young intern in a TB hospital during the war, Suguro had been presented with an opportunity for the advancement of his career if he would take part in an experiment, which was presented to him as a way to further science. Suguro was only one of several doctors and nurses that would take part in the vivisection of American POWs who were already slated to be executed. So it becomes a question of conscience and personal responsibility. They are going to die in any case, why not take the opportunity to make discoveries that will help sick patients in the future? What is the harm? That is what the others tell Suguro.
The bulk of the novel is made up of the stories of three central participants who are to take part in the vivisection. Just what in their histories enable them to do such a thing with so little thought and feeling? What is their flaw? And what are the repercussions? Endo doesn't really make judgements, if so they are subtle. Rather he presents to the reader this situation and the circumstances under which the doctors and nurses are working and the choices they make.
The residents of the town of Fukuoka are the victims of almost daily bombardments. Those in the hospital, where there is now something of a military presence, exist in dire conditions. No sooner does one TB patient die than another is brought in to take his bed. The survival rate is low, and despite the efforts of a few who are dedicated, particularly of Suguro, it seems little can be done. Many of the doctors seem more interested in jockeying for position, worried about their futures, than in the real care of the sick.
It's against this bleak background that the military offers the POWs to the hospital staff for a number of different experiments. The fact that the experiments are to be done more or less on the sly and with the knowledge of only a few is telling. Each character has their own inner conflicts--Suguro has seen the patients he has tried to help die ignominiously, Toda has found that he can get away with almost anything without getting caught (why feel guilty if no one else minds), and nurse Ueda has been mistreated and everything she wanted and wished for taken away from her. Although each doctor and nurse is given the choice of participating or not there is still the subtle pressure from those around them that they must do so. One can, of course say no, but what will the others think.
Endo asks far more questions than he gives answers as you can see. Endo raises many issues--the question of conscience and guilt, of culpability (does being present but not participating still taint one?), of responsibility and of what is ethical and moral in science--well, at least these are things that crossed my mind as I was reading. This is a thoughtful book that requires careful attention. I admit I half read it with an eye closed for fear of what I might find before me, so my somewhat rambling post is not doing the book justice. It is an uncomfortable read but a worthy one for the questions he asks and makes his reader consider.
Endo won the prestigious Akutagawa Prize when it was published in 1958. It took many years before it was finally translated into English by Michael Gallagher.
Thanks to Caroline for choosing it as I think I might not have read it had I not had the encouragement. You can read her thoughts on the novel here. Anna at Diary of an Eccentric and Novroz at Polychrome Interest also have shared their thoughts. Next up is Primo Levi's Survival in Auschwitz to be discussed June 24.