Had I opened Kawabata’s novel, Thousand Cranes, with the knowledge that the Japanese use a thousand cranes as a symbol for happiness or good fortune, I would have seen a moment sooner the disaster that was coming.

Kikuji Minari is a wealthy young man who lost both his parents four years ago. He responds to an invitation to attend a tea ceremony, something his father did for many years, because the invitation suggests he will be introduced to a woman. He notices her on his way in; she has a pink kerchief with a thousand cranes pattern on it. Plus, she’s attractive, graceful, and is willing to marry him with as little investment as a couple meetings. Smart money says he should receive her and make a good life with her.

But, no, he dwells on sordid details of two other women with whom his father had committed adultery years ago. Like an idiot.

Perhaps the natural outrage one feels as Kikuji indulges himself here and refuses someone there is what drives this story. He loves the wrong person effortlessly and constantly returns to the ugly when he has opportunity to hope. His father’s sins have bound him, and he doesn’t see it.

How much does the guilt of our parents’ sins define us? If it’s entirely their own, we can put it behind us when they pass away. If it clings to us and becomes part of our own guilt, what can we do to be free of it? Kawabata asks these questions but gives no answer to them in this work, no answer except perhaps the ruin Kikuji makes of his own life.