The setting is Japan across a chronological span that stretches from the years immediately preceding the Second World War up to the outbreak of the conflict.
Against a backdrop of unease and mounting economic hardship, a family drama unfolds: the story of four sisters.
An ancient family, now in decline, has split into a main branch—which moves to Tokyo and retains the authority over fundamental family decisions—and a secondary branch, residing in Osaka and centered around the protagonist, one of the sisters: Sachiko.
This woman assumes responsibility for her two younger sisters: one unable to find a husband due to her shyness and aloofness, and the other, more modern and emancipated, who works as an artist and weaves a web of romantic affairs, including with men of a lower social standing than the family.
The novel is an assemblage of small episodes, featuring a narrative arc that appears fragmented, yet builds precisely upon the portrayal of the intimacy of a Japanese household, and the clash between the tradition of customs and values on the one hand and Western modernity on the other.
The women wear kimonos, but also Western dress; they attend the theater to watch ancient Japanese performances, yet devour Western books and films.
Even the most rebellious girl, one of the younger sisters, who dreams of going to France to study dressmaking, attends a traditional dance school and gains renown by crafting traditional Japanese dolls.
The strictures of tradition fail to confine or ossify familial affections.
Sachiko’s repeated matchmaking efforts on behalf of one of the younger sisters fall through because she cannot bring herself to thwart her sister’s will and temperament.
The scandals provoked by the other sister ultimately meet with Sachiko’s forgiveness and benevolence.
The love among the sisters and within the family proves stronger than any rule or imposition.
One might assume the context is defined by the war, and that conflict must eventually burst into the novel (much like a sort of War and Peace).
This is not the case: the war remains perpetually in the background, scarcely mentioned, and what matters above all are the private tribulations, the protagonists' search for serenity and balance.
Only the letters from Western friends who have left Japan evoke the approaching military conflict, of which, however, there is not yet full awareness.
Perhaps the author wishes to reassure the reader (it should be remembered that it was serialized during the war), or perhaps he offers a subtle critique of familism, of that excessive fixation on individual feelings and personal friendships, which delays an awakening to the reality of unfolding events.
It would have been compelling had there been a sequel to the novel, to observe the characters’ conduct during the final phase of the conflict, beneath the bombings.
The true fabric of the novel is woven from the customs and values of Japanese society, captured across myriad moments yet epitomized by nature—such as the family’s excursions to view the cherry blossoms.
The peace, order, and serenity emanating from the natural world stand in stark contrast both to the complexity of the emotions and events, and to the creeping emergence of the war.
The novel unfolds slowly, marked by a pronounced scarcity of plot-driven action, as everything hinges on minute particulars.
Ultimately, it feels long-winded, though never dull, and at times repetitive.

The Makioka Sisters