Rediscovering The Last Samurai: A Literary Masterpiece

A Rediscovered Literary Gem: The Last Samurai

Until recently, I had overlooked the brilliance of The Last Samurai by Helen DeWitt. It wasn’t until I came across The New York Times’s list of the best books of this century that I felt a twinge of regret for my neglect. For years, I mistakenly believed that this novel was merely the source material for the Tom Cruise film of the same name, which never piqued my interest. My awareness of its acclaim also slipped past me in 2018 when Vulture declared it the book of the century, probably because my life at that time was consumed by the demands of a 6-week-old infant who had little appreciation for literary fiction.

However, I finally picked up the book, and I can confidently say it is as extraordinary as everyone claims. As I read, I felt a sense of possessiveness over its brilliance, convinced that its true depth could only be fully appreciated through the lens of my own experiences.

The plot, as it turns out, bears no resemblance to Tom Cruise’s cinematic adventures of fighting alongside 19th-century samurai in Japan. Instead, it centers around a woman named Sibylla, who is raising her exceptionally intelligent young son, Ludo, in the genteel poverty of 1990s London. Struggling to afford even the basic comforts like heat for their home, the mother and son often find solace in riding the Circle Line of the London Underground.

While the narrative ostensibly follows Ludo’s quest to find his father, it delves much deeper into the intricate dance of integrating a uniquely gifted mind into a society that often prioritizes conventionality over brilliance. Both Sibylla and Ludo possess excruciatingly high standards, the genius necessary to pursue them, and a profound inability to accept compromise. In a world where most people navigate their lives through a series of compromises softened by self-delusion, Sibylla and Ludo find themselves isolated, disconnected from the outside world and meaningful relationships.

What truly sets this book apart is the way DeWitt crafts characters who are intensely and specifically themselves, making it impossible to envision them functioning within a more traditional narrative framework. I found myself wholly believing in their existence—a testament to the exceptional strength of DeWitt’s writing.