The Sound of the Mountain: characters, style, tone

1/ Shingo, the main character of the novel, is generally portrayed sympathetically but he’s not always likable. He’s not very tactful. 
For example, while talking to his wife Yasuko about an old couple in the news who go off to die, he notes that the husband leaves a note but the wife doesn’t, and then turns to his daughter-in-law Kikuko to ask that if she and Shuichi committed suicide together, whether she would leave a note. That’s not very nice to ask, is it? Especially when Kikuko and Shuichi don’t have a good marriage. 
In the previous blog post, I wrote about a scene in which his daughter Fusako had an outburst of feeling, but he said nothing to console her or clear the misunderstanding. 
In another scene, Shingo talks to Fusako of his past love, Yasuko’s dead sister, and remarks that she was very beautiful, one wouldn’t know that she and Yasuko were sisters. That’s not the right thing to say to your daughter about her mother, or am I sensitive? 
Kawabata writes well the feelings of an aged man who doesn’t feel much for his wife and children—the love of his life is long dead, and now he’s yearning for his daughter-in-law, whom he cannot have. 

2/ Freudians would probably have lots of fun with The Sound of the Mountain—the dreams and Shingo’s obsession with breasts all show his repression, frustration, and loneliness. 
There’s even a scene where Shingo almost kisses a Noh mask. 

3/ Is Kikuko too perfect, or does she appear perfect because she’s seen by Shingo? 

4/ Shingo is the main character and the novel focuses on his perspective, but he is passive. Perhaps he has the reticence and reservation of an old Japanese man, but he is passive, compared to other characters, especially the women. He doesn’t do anything about Fusako’s failed marriage. He doesn’t do much about Shuichi cheating on Kikuko either—when he speaks to Shuichi, his is a mild objection; when he addresses it with Kikuko, he doesn’t name the action but only says Shuichi is the way he is. 
His wife Yasuko is more forthright than him, and several times tells him to ask Fusako, Shuichi, or Kikuko questions. Fusako once or twice speaks her feelings, which doesn’t get a response from him—he holds things back, and generally keeps his feelings to himself. 
Eiko, his secretary, whom he reduces in his mind to a girl with small breasts, is in some sense perhaps the most active character in the novel, as she’s the one who talks to Shingo about Shuichi’s mistress Kinu, she’s the one who brings Kinu’s friend Mrs Ikeda and then quits the office, she’s the one who tries to get Kinu to end it with Shuichi, then she’s also the one who comes to Shingo to tell him that Shuichi takes money from Kinu to give Kikuko for the abortion. 
Even Kikuko, who shares the same kind of reservation and quietness, is more active than Shingo, as she chooses to have an abortion, which is a big decision and a shocking act.  
The passivity (or just lack of involvement?) does explain why the daughter and the son turn out the way they are, however. 

5/ Shingo’s interaction with Shuichi’s mistress Kinu is interesting. Her name is actually Kinuko, but Seidensticker shortens it to avoid confusion, with Kawabata’s permission. Next to her, Shingo is so weak, so inept, perhaps even pathetic. 
It is a bit hard to see why someone like her, who appears to be independent and strong-willed, has an affair with Shuichi—what does she see in him? And what does Kikuko see in him? 
Shuichi is a rather pale, colourless character. He’s meant to be a selfish, philandering man, who is callous to his wife and can be violent to his mistress, and Shingo starts to recognise the moral decay and lack of discipline in him, but the character himself doesn’t appear very clear and vivid. Shuichi isn’t quite alive.  

6/ Shingo’s main interest is in nature—trees, plants, flowers, the mountain, the wind, birds, insects… This is something he shares with Kikuko. Because he is interested in nature, the character becomes more interesting, as he seems passive and languid in his relationships. 

7/ Soseki’s Kokoro was published in 1914 (Meiji era) whereas The Sound of the Mountain was serialised between 1949 and 1954 (post-war), and the 2 novels are very different in style, but both of them deal with differences between generations, the Westernisation of Japan, and an old man’s response to a rapidly changing society, among other themes. Perhaps it’s a common theme for the Japanese novel in the 20th century? I have no idea. 
Kawabata’s novel is not only about an old man meditating on aging and death, and observing his family members, but it’s also about him observing the changes in society around him. Kikuko gets Shingo an electric razor, for instance, and he and Yasuko talk about getting a fridge, a vacuum cleaner, or a washing machine—they don’t have anything modern in the house. Yasuko remarks that Kikuko doesn’t know that giving someone a comb as a present means cutting off relations.  
Shingo also observes other changes like the new kind of prostitutes, or the differences between him and later generations. 
However, it doesn’t seem to be a great, serious conflict as in Kokoro. Kokoro shows some devastating things when a character is torn between tradition/ aspirations and individualism/ pursuit of personal happiness. It is intense. The Sound of the Mountain is a quiet novel. 

8/ Tom at Wuthering Expectations wrote this about The Makioka Sisters by Tanizaki: 

“What struck me the most was the evenness of the tone.  Every event is told with the same emphasis.  The flood, a natural disaster that killed hundreds, receives more pages but the same rhetorical weight as a meal at a favorite sushi restaurant.” (full post) 

I think the same can be said about The Sound of the Mountain though it’s not the same author (for context, The Makioka Sisters was serialised between 1943 and 1948). The abortion has an emotional impact on everyone in the family but receives the same rhetorical weight as Shingo’s various dreams, his encounters with childhood friends, or his observations of the plants and birds around the house. The dramatic impact of the event is much reduced because Kawabata drops earlier on in the story the news about Eugenics law in Japan and teenage girls getting an abortion, then Shingo has a related dream, then some time afterwards he has suspicions about the abortion, so by the time the news comes out, it barely has much impact. 
Normally the news of the teenage girls and the dream should be foreshadowing, but because of the evenness in tone, the events all seem to be “equal”. 
It’s the same thing with the suicide and the news of the other pregnancy. They might be a bit sudden, but don’t appear shocking or impactful—Kawabata doesn’t give them more emphasis than he does other things that happen in the story. It’s all told in a quiet way, and I don’t think there’s anything like a high point in the narrative. 
You cannot say the same about Kokoro. The first part of the novel is driven by a mystery—by the young student’s curiosity about Sensei, inability to understand him, and a strong desire to penetrate the barriers to his heart. The arrival of Sensei’s letter at the end of the first part is a strong dramatic moment, especially when the student sees the final lines. The second part of Kokoro, narrated by Sensei, has a different tone and different voice, and different events get different levels of emphasis—K’s appearance gets more emphasis than Sensei taking lodgings at the house, for instance, the tension and intensity also increase as Sensei becomes more tortured with jealousy and suspicions, and there is of course a strong dramatic event in Sensei’s testament.  

9/ Then the novel ends, without any kind of ending or resolution. Is it a Japanese thing, to have an inconclusive ending? 
In a way, it almost seems to suggest a new beginning, a new book even—as the book ends, Fusako asks her father to open a shop but he says he’ll think about it; there’s uncertainty about her and the children as Shingo and his wife discuss their future; Shuichi’s affair ends but there’s also uncertainty about his marriage with Kikuko, in the way both of them talk about it; there’s ardour in the way Kikuko talks about taking care of Shingo, in which he senses some danger; Fusako still seems jealous of Kikuko; and we don’t know what would happen with the unborn baby.  
The Tale of Genji has an open ending but at least I can get an idea of what would happen (Kaoru wouldn’t give up, and either way it would be bad for Ukifune), but here, there’s no way to tell what would happen. The novel just ends.