The Tale of Genji (Section I)

Having embarked on my reading journey for the book three months ago, I am about halfway through The Tale of Genji, the world's first novel and the most notable classic work of Japanese literature. The novel was written around the peak of the Heian period by the noblewoman, poet, and lady-in-waiting Murasaki Shikibu. To date, it has been translated into more than 30 languages.  

Having recently read chapters 18-33, which, alongside chapters 1-17 read earlier, compose the first section of this massive work of 54 chapters, I now find myself reflecting on it. Although I haven't finished reading The Tale of Genji, I want to celebrate this milestone by dedicating this blog post to it, and to pay tribute to Royall Tyler, whose English translation helps me read Japanese literature through English.

Published in 2001, Tyler’s translation is renowned for its academic rigor and praised for being highly faithful to the original text and its poetic quality. It is noted for preserving the nuance of 11th-century Japanese court life, making it a "definitive edition" for readers seeking a comprehensive and authentic experience.  To this end, its chapter-by-chapter footnotes are particularly valuable.

The Tyler translation runs an exhaustive 2322 pages, of which the last 317 pages are chapter-by-chapter notes and various kinds of references, which are no less significant. Following the Notes is the Chronology, which chronicles key events by chapters, marking Genji's age and serving as an excellent summary of the book for those who have read it.

Then, there is the General Glossary, which explains related Japanese terms in the novel (in romaji) thoroughly from an English perspective. There are countless culturally rich references in this part and the following is my favorite:

"Fujiwara—The surname of the dominant nonimperial clan in the author's time and for centuries on either side of it. The author herself was a minor Fujiwara. In the tale the Minister of the Left (Genji's father-in-law), hence Aoi and her brother Tō no Chūjō, belong to this clan, and so do the Minister of the Right and his family, as well as many other figures."

The next section is the Clothing and Color, as explained in Tyler's words below:

Words for clothing are impossible to translate except in general terms that convey at best only vague impressions. The colors and color combinations (“layerings”) listed here are more evocative, but they are not necessarily more precise. The range of colors current in the time of the tale was too wide to permit usefully precise translation, and in any case much about their names remains uncertain. 

The Summary of Poetic Allusions Identified in the Notes follows, per Tyler's introduction below:

"The world of The Tale of Genji considered poetry (uta, literally "song") the highest form of art and, in principle, the most perfect mode of human communication. Cultivated people knew a great many poems by heart, and these naturally crept into their speech, their writing, and their own poems. When moved or troubled, they might well write out old poems brought to mind by their mood, mingled with new ones of their own. The text of the tale therefore contains a very large number of poetic allusions, of which a small but significant minority consists of allusions to Chinese poetry, especially that of Bai Juyi (772-846)."

Finally, there is the Characters in The Tale of Genji, under which characters are listed alphabetically by Japanese designation (romaji) and identified with their English appellations and the chapters in which they appear. With this, readers can easily navigate through this massive work of over 2,000 pages 

Among the wide range of themes explored in the novel, I was particularly intrigued by those associated with Mono no aware, a Japanese idiom for the aesthetic appreciation of impermanence (mujō), or transience of things. It literally means 'the pathos of things', 'an empathy toward things', or 'a sensitivity to ephemera', representing both a transient gentle sadness (or wistfulness) at their passing as well as a longer, deeper gentle sadness about this state being the reality of life.

In this connection, Carpe Diem—the famous Latin aphorism—came to my mind; they both emphasize appreciating the present, but differ fundamentally in tone. Carpe Diem urges active enjoyment of the present, often aggressively, because life is short (YOLO). In contrast, mono no aware involves an aesthetic appreciation of the bittersweet beauty of impermanence, finding calm, gentle awareness in knowing everything is fleeting. 

Bookmarked at page 1016, The Tale of Genji will remain on my weekly reading list until I finish it—hopefully later this year.