Somersault

May I add to my previous post that the conventions of literature lull you into a false sense of security only to surprise you? I have never anticipated that I would sympathise with the leaders and members of a religious cult. Perhaps part of this sympathy is pity, which would be more expected.

I'm reading Somersault by (Nobel-Prize winner) Kenzaburo Oe at the moment. (Disclaimer: I'm only 170-odd pages on.) The novel follows the reformation of a cult in Japan, which initially disbanded because a radical faction attempted to take over a nuclear-power plant in order to turn it into a nuclear bomb. The title refers to the leaders' denial of the principles of the entire cult, which is seen as a somersault by the media and its consumers.

The novel begins years earlier, when we are introduced to three of the main characters. A fourth is introduced separately. This introduction is brutally honest and yet empathetic, and is my favourite part of the book so far.

The novel then speeds forward and we are introduced to the fifth and sixth characters, the former leaders of the cult. They are known only as 'Patron' and 'Guide', encouraging us to think of them in mostly symbolic terms. Yet their names seem to mistranslate the nature of their roles, which in turn begins to breed a mistrust of these characters. Which is in turn countered by the natural sympathy we feel for those who are physically ill, which they (and another character) both become.

This longwinded approach brings us to my place in the book and a paragraph that has illuminated my feelings of sympathy and mistrust. Patron says of Guide, "He gave meaning to the disaster that had ruined half my life, and through his help I discovered a new whole sense of self. What he made whole was me, the Savior, whether false or genuine."

"Whether false or genuine." What should we make of this? That this is a personal crisis projected onto a mass audience, that the man is mentally ill, that he doubts himself? Was the earlier somersault the truth? Are the leaders sadists or just in denial? If there is doubt, surely the natural conclusion is: false. Yet his followers hear him say this and experience no doubt.

Can this be seen as a comment on the nature of religion? That faith encourages one to overlook inconsistencies. That it requires such oversight? The novel boomerangs between sympathy and mistrust, and so many other emotions, that I am losing confidence that it can answer these questions. All I can do is record my questions and revert to them when I am finished reading.

When I read over this draft, I take back my original premise. I am not surprised and I do not feel much sympathy for the leaders of the cult, but for the followers, which is a common reaction to these things. Are the leaders more accountable than the followers, or vice versa, and can cultishness ever be justified? The questions keep piling up.