La historia de Genji I by Murasaki Shikibu

La historia de Genji I Reviews

• 
  Alex

  A princess likes stories. One of her ladies-in-waiting is good at making them up. Over years, the lady spins a long, elaborate story containing the princess's favorite theme: hot dudes nailing chicks. Crucially, the lady writes it down and here we are with history's first novel, the origin story of Japan, their Homer and their Star Wars, the winding and weird Tale of Genji.
  
  This is around 1000 CE. In Europe,
  someone was writing Beowulf about hacking the arms off monsters. The world of Japan couldn't have been more different. This was the Heian Period, an effete and decadent time where folks spent most of their time writing poetry to women hidden behind screens and then weeping about the beauty of a sunrise.
  
  
  
  Things one might write a poem about
  Sea grass
  Tears
  Chrysanthemums
  Dew
  Sleeves (wet, inevitably, with tears)
  Autumn leaves
  The phrase "How long must I..."
  
  You can practice this at home. Try it!
  
  How long must I wait until iHop opens
  my sleeves wet with my tears
  
  Sea grasses bend with the foamy tide
  as I bend into my couch to binge Nashville
  
  There's almost a poem a page in this book, so get used to it, unless you're reading one of the bullshit translations that duck the poetry altogether. I read Seidensticker's translation, and perhaps skipped a few parts here and there because listen, it is lengthy. The
  Scheherezadian author kept tacking chapter after chapter onto the thing; it ambles on into the next generation and it ends up being like 1100 pages and I will perhaps catch up with the rest of these poems after I retire.
  
  That author, that lady-in-waiting, we never got her name so we call her Lady Murasaki after the primary love interest for our handsome prince Genji, and here's the first thing you should know about that love interest: she's like ten. I mean not forever, but definitely when Genji first notices her and goes like "what a babe," she's a babe indeed, and this whole book is squicky as all fuck. Not like
  Lolita squicky? He doesn't actually have sex with Murasaki when she's ten! He just kidnaps her and saves her in his palace for slightly later, which is also not great.
  
  But hey, he also rapes and impregnates his stepmother, so. Rape is a little murky here - encounters that seem unambiguously to start with rape evolve into consensual affairs. I don't know if this was the time or the author or what. And this is as close as we're getting to a plot: Genji seduces a series of women with various levels of consensuality.
  
  
  
  I mean, but it's not actually that simple, and this is the wild thing about this ancient book: Genji has real psychological depth. The characters are consistent and they change over time for logical reasons. There's a certain circularity; Genji's crimes will come back around to haunt him. The book seems to have more of a handle on how a novel might operate than other early experiments like Don Quixote, and I'm
  not fucking with Don Quixote, it's great, but certainly the second half is on a different trip than the first half is.
  
  So Genji isn't just a historical landmark, it's for real good reading. The setting is like nothing you've ever read before - if you want some nonfiction on the Heian period, by the way, the unanimous choice is
  The World of the Shining Prince, which is pretty good. The characters are memorable, sophisticated, and ambiguous. And if nothing else, it's extremely easy to parody. Genji is just constantly moping about with a guitar, writing poems on fancy stationary that's described in exactly the same loving detail as the
  business cards from American Psycho, while women swoon over how good his handwriting is.
  
  it's long and weird, but worth it
  Like an autumn moonrise, or my dick.
• 
  Michael Finocchiaro

  The Tale of Genji is one of the hallmarks of classic Japanese literature - the equivalent to, say, the Canterbury Tales or the Divine Comedy or Dox Quixote - from which thousands of pieces of art, pottery and writings have been inspired. It is a sweeping bildungsroman about a Japanese prince in the 10th/11th century Heian court in Kyoto. Well, ex-prince because the emperor had to strip him of his title for political reasons. The tale has over 400 characters and is a true masterpiece of style and description. In the translation I read, each chapter has a beautiful haiku before the narrative and the translation just drips off the page with limpid, gorgeous text. I read this during my honeymoon and despite its occasional melancholic tone, it was one of the most challenging and yet beautiful things I ever read. I can only imagine what beauty must be in store for those lucky enough to be able to read it in the original Japanese.
  
  One of the greatest books ever written. A good respite from the fake news and twitter bullshit that is clogging the airwaves...
• 
  J.L. Sutton

  “You are here to remind me of someone I long for, and what is it you long for yourself? We must have been together in an earlier life, you and I.”
  
  
  
  Murasaki Shikibu's The Tale of Genji is an immersive leap into medieval Japanese court life. Absolutely fantastic! I doubt this read is for everyone, but it all worked for me! The details of imperial court life, including the ceremonies, how people are judged or ranked, attitudes, values and the importance of proper dress and etiquette are all covered in the unfolding stories related to Genji (most centered on amorous adventures). These details are intriguing without being overwhelming. The use of poetry in courting rituals and how to interpret another person's poem (whether an overture or response) is fascinating. One's refinement was judged by this poetry as well as the brushwork used in composing it and the choice of paper.
  
  This is a long read, but I stayed interested in the story and fascinated with all the accompanying trappings of courtly life. In the beginning, I sort of glossed over some of the poems that were sent back and forth between Genji and others; however, as I continued reading, I became more interested in the poems themselves. In what way, did this or that poem show that a specific woman was interested in Genji's advances, but wanted to make sure their relationship wasn't discovered? Or how did another poem show that she wanted to end the relationship? All while being refined! This world counted refinement above nearly anything else. What they saw as refined was quite interesting.
  
  Fabulous and incredibly immersive read!!
• 
  هدى يحيى

  
  كتب_تنتظر_قرائتها#
  
  كل من قرأ كافكا على الشاطىء قد واتته غالباً رغبة شديدة في قراءة سيرة الأمير جينجي
  التي كان يلتهمها كافكا الصغير في المكتبة العامة اليابنية
  
  مراساكي شيبوكو هو الإسم الذي عُرفت به المؤلفة و ليس إسمها الحقيقي
  وقد عاشت عمرها في البلاط الإمبراطوري وروت مما عايشته فانتازيا مذهلة تشابه ألف ليلة وليلة العربيةالتي ربما لا يعرف أغلب كتاب العالم سواها عن أدبنا العربي
  حتى أن أنيس منصور عندما سأل الكاتب سومرست موم عما قرأه من الأدب العربي أجاب ألف ليلة وليلة فقط
  ما أغضب بالعقاد بشدة
  قائلا أنه رجل جاهل وأن الأعمى الذي لا يرى الشمس
  "يقصد نفسه خصوصاً :D"
  العيب فيه لا في الشمس
  !
  
  وحتى إيزابيل الليندي أو ماركيز أو حتى البرتو مورافيا وغيرهم لا يعرفون عنا شيئاً باستثناء هذه الفانتازيا الخيالية مجهولة المؤلف إلى الآن
  
  
  سيرة الأمير جينجي هو عمل من أهم كلاسيكيات الإنسانية
  و يعتبر أول رواية مهمة في الأدب العالمي
  والرواية تسرد حكاية هيكارو نو جينجي
  واحد من نبلاء القصر الإمبراطوري ومغامراته
  
  وندرة هذا العمل ليست فقط في أنه تراث قديم حيث تمت كتابته في أوائل القرن الحادي عشر
  ولكن أيضا لأن من ألفه امرأة في عصور لم تكن المرأة فيها إلا زينة وديكور إنساني مسلوبة الحقوق
  
  
  لوحات تصويرية عن الرواية
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
• 
  William2

  Some Notes On A First Reading:
  
  Remarkable. We are transported back to the Imperial court of 11th century Japan. My thanks to G.G. for recommending this translation. I had had so many false starts with
  Edward Seidensticker’s version. Big differences between editions are the length of the sentences, Seidensticker uses short choppy ones, and the incomparable peripheral documentation here.
  
  The illustrations, maps, layouts of houses, footnotes which explain poetic references, and dramatis personae for each of the 54 chapters, beautifully enrich one’s reading. The prose is already excellent, so to have these adjuncts makes for an uncommon reading experience.
  
  Genji is borne to one of the Japanese emperor’s intimates, the Kiritsubo Consort. The emperor is so close to this woman, they achieve such an astonishing rapport, that he always wants her with him. This inspires gossip among his other women and the palace fuctionaries. For if the emperor is spending time with her, he isn’t spending time with them. Then the woman dies. The emperor’s grief is so great that he’s remiss in some of his imperial duties. Then he thinks of the son, Genji, living elsewhere, and has the boy brought to him.
  
  P. 89 of 1100.
  
  We often read of older men in the east marrying young girls, children really. But the persistence with which Genji (19) pursues little Murasaki (10) is surprising. No doubt his imperial parentage ensures that his overtures are always politely entertained, if at first refused. His purpose he says is to train her to his liking. We can only imagine what that means at this point.
  
  Then little Murasaki‘s guardian grandmother dies. Her father – a Buddhist monk – is soon to take the girl back to his mountain retreat. Before he does though Genji swoops in and plucks her from her run down house. Genji worries about whether he will gain a reputation for debauchery, but the more I read the more I think he is permitted anything.
  
  Perhaps with this exception: he cuckolds his father, the emperor. He impregnates the emperor’s new intimate, Fujitsubo, a woman brought to the palace because of her close resemblance to Genji’s much beloved and departed mother, the Kiritsubo Consort. There is high anxiety as she begins to show, but the emperor accepts the child as his own and Genji manages to keep it quiet.
  
  It’s interesting how self-deluded Genji is. He speaks of his honorable intentions. But when he finds a woman who isn’t interested in him, or feigns disinterest, he begins to strategize until he conquers her, or a prospect promising greater physical immediacy is revealed.
  
  “It is extremely irritating of her to turn me away like this without even hearing me out,” he said. “She must suspect me of wanting only to amuse myself, whereas in reality I am not frivolous at all. Things cannot help going wrong and the other person assumes the worst, and it always ends up being one’s own fault. I should have thought someone well disposed, someone living in peace without parents or brothers and sisters to bother her, would be far more attractive.” (p. 118)
  
  The mythos and Buddhist spirituality underlying this book actually has a basis in fact. The book, though it seems at times fantastic, is for the most part realist fiction.
  
  The book can be lacrymose. It is almost morbid at times. And then the author breaks into broad comedy. I am referring to the scene with the Dame of Staff, described as “randy,” who gets her hooks into the sybaritic Genji and won’t let go. His friend the Secretary Captain then comes along and catches him in flagrante delicto with the old girl. Suddenly we’re in the Marx Brothers’s “Night at the Opera.”
  
  Genji is now 20. There’s no way around the truth, he is a pig. Astonishing how he goes about virtually raping women, who are then overawed with gratitude. It is difficult, as
  Vladimir Nabokov showed us with Humbert Humbert, to take a reprehensible figure and make him interesting to the reader despite his failings. The author makes him suffer for his dalliances, and his suffering is balanced by his libidinousness. He conquers but he pays for it.
  
  Lady Rokujō is the widow of Prince Zembo and a longtime mistress of Genji. She has great pride, and her jealousy is so strong that subconsciously her ikiryō (wandering spirit) kills Yugao and Lady Aoi, and attacks Murasaki. (from Wiki)
  
  P. 200
  
  Few of these noblepersons have names. I’m a little slow getting used to their titles which seem blandly unmemorable at first. Fortunately there’s a little dramatis personae at the start of each chapter which helps you keep them straight, and a grasp on this detailed thread you must never lose or you’ll be completely at sea. Genji is a dense but very satisfying story that requires a careful reader.
  
  Bodice ripper’s are by their nature poorly written. But if one could write one well in 11th century Japan, I realize this is ahistoric, this might be it. The unrelenting seduction here is certainly “bodicy,” but not the prose. So perhaps it’s more precise to say there is a thread of bodice ripper running through this novel - and it’s really hot stuff.
  
  Must finish. . .
• 
  Chris Via

  Video now available:
  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFjZV...
  
  If you’re the type of person for whom that first yellowing leaf, that first September-morning chill, sends you into hysterics, The Tale of Genji is a book for you.
  
  If you are a hopeless Romantic plagued by Golden Age Syndrome, but you love it and are unwilling to change no matter how much grief and longing and ennui and discontent it causes, The Tale of Genji is a book for you.
  
  If you’re the type of person who constantly wrestles with Tennyson’s words that “‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” The Tale of Genji is a book for you.
  
  If you’re the type of person for whom a cold, silent, snow-covered night fills you with a pleasure so intense that it aches, The Tale of Genji is a book for you.
  
  If you’re the type of person for whom knowing that other people have the same questions that you do is more comforting than having answers, The Tale of Genji is a book for you.
  
  Or if you’re simply the type of person who doesn’t want life to slip by without experiencing one of the world’s greatest masterpieces of literature, well, then The Tale of Genji is a book for you.
  
• 
  Britta Böhler

  I conquered The Beast, together with Shawn, and it only took us 2 months.
• 
  Aubrey

  The person who convinced me to read this is no longer on Goodreads, so I cannot tell you what meanings I thought I would discover within this work. Even the collective 'meanings' is a poor word choice, because my relationship with literature is one to which only the pair of mentor and mentee of the male variety has claim in the bowels of history and pop culture. It is my lot to be mentee to a few of the living and far more of the dead of various forms and nationalities; the only commonality is we have never met and, even in the case of the alive, will never do so. Thus, I do not have the benefit of consultation on even the most arduous or rare or fleeting of terms, nothing to enable an inheritance of a complete whole of the older and the wiser. What holisms I make, I make alone.

  He had a great contempt for people who renounce the world and then appear not to have done so after all. But she was leaving him.

  It is tiring to think on how academia would have processed us had it caught I and the work together. Thinking of it is unavoidable when one is interested in literature and not institutionalized definitions of such, and it has been a long time since I've forborne from writing what I knew classrooms would not like, but I am not yet aged enough for unconcern to come without resistance. Aspiring professors of English do not build their critical evaluation on video games and animated televisions shows and an uneasy consciousness of the Other, even when the evaluation is of the most loving nature. Technically this work is not found in the English curriculum, technically a proper understanding of this goes far beyond what my academic career is aimed towards, but I have not yet broken past the mental block of the ivory tower that dogs my every self-reflexive thought.

  She liked his bemused way of cocking his head to one side as he contemplated his unhappiness.

  My favorite video game of all time is called Okami, and I firmly believe my understanding of The Tale of Genji was aided immeasurably by my history of playing. It is funny, it is menacing, it is lengthy and complex, but above all it is gorgeous in the most life affirming of ways. I neither sniff at cities nor sentimentalize the countryside, but in Okami the goal is to restore growth of flora and fauna to the world through the power of writing. Add music and art and heartbreak that does not happen through war torn horrors, and you have as close to my ideal as reality can currently come.

  Such a difficult, constricted life as a woman was required to live! Moving things, amusing things, she must pretend to be unaffected by them. With whom was she to share the pleasure and beguile the tedium of this fleeting world? Since it choose to look upon women as useless, unfeeling creatures, should it not pity the fathers who went to such trouble rearing them? Like the mute prince who was always appearing in sad parables, a woman should be sensitive but silent.

  One thousand one hundred and thirteen pages and what I found of my Eurocentric feminism could be numbered off in concentric quotes with the fingers of a single hand. Even if the owner of the historically granted nom de plume of Murasaki Shikibu hadn't been female, my vein of 'outside reading' would have sought out my definition of evidence she was there. It is the usual lack of objectivity I favor after so many centuries of venerated others pretending otherwise, but this is one thousand and more years ago, this is one of the most auspicious pieces of literature known thus far, and above all else, this is Japan. Here, Orientalism is the name of the game, and my fascination does me no good if I do not make an effort.

  How could she even consider giving herself to a man? The first overtures, capable of arousing such tenderness, must lead to unhappiness later. No, it would be better for them to go on as they were, neither of them demeaning the other and neither going flagrantly against the other’s wishes. Her resolve was firmer than ever.

  Some of you may be familiar with Japanese anime. It's something I grew up with and have a great deal of fond feeling towards, but after learning of Hayao Miyazaki's distaste for the industry, I've had to critically evaluate my relationship with something that has entertained, sustained, and stabilized through various periods of my life. I've commented on similarities between Japan and the US before, and while a few animes are truly great and humanizing works of art, it is the worst that the media and the mainstream community sustains itself upon. The most obvious characteristic is the treatment of women, an objectifying and dangerous flaw that not even my beloved Okami escapes. Even this most esteemed of tomes builds itself upon systematic patriarchy; what is different is the deliberate separation of the realities of life from the feelings of the characters.

  Listen to them. They seem to have no notion that I might be ill because I misbehaved.

  Works such as
  Middlemarch may be easier to the eye of Eurocentric sensibilities, but this work here has as much to offer of real people thrown into social roles. It is much, much, much harder to see, and it's highly likely that what I'm actually seeing is my own desires of female affirmation in a world of ubiquitous male power. What I do know is Shikibu deconstructs the stepmother stereotype, the suicidal maiden stereotype, the manipulative wife stereotype and the useless hag stereotype and the wife in the madhouse stereotype and even the evil witch stereotype, all these women pulled and pushed along the lines of Genji and his descendants in a reality where feeling is both emphasized and shuttered away, where the next bite of food hinges on the calculus of relations and the spider web of public opinion. It is beautiful in the way all poisons are and, of course, I may be misleading myself entirely.

  Still, one would not wish to describe him as merely perverse. Had he been a man of reprehensible tendencies, the emperor would surely not have insisted upon having him for a son-in-law. In high matters of state, one would imagine, he showed uncommon talents.

  There's no war, or plagues, or any physical conflicted more violent than a doubly misguided tryst that ultimately ends in mutual hilarity. In light of that, I know many readers will find it boring, and there were times I wished I could be moved more by the usual things and not have to spend so much time with the ancient and the lengthy and the subtle. However, so much of that 'usual' is built up on what our world has become since the time this was written, and every so often I need something that unspools my brain from modern hegemonies and places the emphasis on what I can appreciate rather than how much I can understand. Proust came close, but I did not know how soothing the repetition of years with its poetry and its seasons and its flowers and colors and songs and dances could be until I began understanding the references without the help of the footnotes, and that is not something that can be acquired through an obsession with exact details. This work, masterful in its beauty, came down to us because only women wrote the much scorned fiction; I know this world should not survive, but I would become the woodcutter with their rotting ax handle in a heartbeat.

  Soon it would be sunset. Mists were rising, and the mountain fastness seemed already to be receding into night. The air was heavy with the songs of the evening cicadas. Wild carnations at the hedge and an array of autumn flowers in near the veranda caught the evening light. The murmur of waters was cool. A brisk wind came down from the mountain with a sighing of deep pine forests. As bells announced that a new relay of priests had come on duty, the solemnity of the services was redoubled, new voices joined to the old. Every detail strengthened the spell that was falling over him. He wanted to stay on and on. The voice of the priest who had come down from the mountain was grander and more solemn than the rest.

  When enough time has passed, I will come back here to rest. It is a matter of the heart I will never be able to reconcile, but its existence is enough.
• 
  Noel

  “That reminder brought me straight to her. She was as open and trusting with me as ever, but her expression was very sad, and as she sat in her poor house, gazing out over the dewy garden and crying in concert with the crickets’ lament, I felt as though I must be living in some old tale.”
  
  
  Illustration of a chapter of the novel, by Tosa Mitsuyoshi (17th century).
  
  The young man has never been here before. He hears the rustling of silks and women’s laughter. (What could it be about?) He makes his way softly to a crack he finds in the lattice shutters. A blind rattles; he stops for a moment, his heart pounding, but no one seems to have noticed. He peers through the crack and sees three women sewing in the lamplight. Then he sees her, the girl he had seen that night, also by lamplight—it must be! She lies with her head pillowed on her arm, gazing into the light, her hair spilling down over her forehead. Her whole figure stirs troubled yearnings in him.
  
  As we condemn him for his voyeurism, we realize we are watchers as well, peering through screens, curtains, and sliding doors into a lost and vanished world. And like him, we fall hopelessly in love.
  
  * * *
  
  Around this time last year, when the plague swept across continents and the world seemed to be coming to an end, I was looking for a new book to read. I can’t remember what made me decide on this ancient Japanese novel, but with all the time I was spending at home, I figured I could finish it in a month or two—over the summer before fall classes began. Ha! I couldn’t have been more wrong.
  
  For a long time, there was no greater comfort than lying in bed in the lamplight and returning to this world of romance and intrigue. But as it often happens with long books, I began to grow restless. The novel has hundreds of characters (only ever referred to by titles and honorifics, which are constantly changing) and nothing resembling a plot. The pages turn with the lightning speed of an ox-cart (about two miles an hour). I was certain this book would never end. But it was too late! I was already melting under the caressing hand of Stockholm syndrome. I was going to finish this book. A year later, and I finally have. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long, but I don’t feel as proud of myself as I thought I would be. Mostly, I feel terrible sad; the characters I’ve come to know over a thousand pages are gone.
  
  “He felt her there beside him, just as she had always been on evenings like this when he had called for music, and when her touch on her instrument, or her least word to him, had been so much her own; except that he would have preferred even to this vivid dream her simple reality in the dark.”
  
  The Tale of Genji was written in early-11th-century Japan by Murasaki Shikibu, a court lady who lived during the Heian period. It’s often said to be the world’s first novel (which isn’t exactly true, but I don’t think it matters). The novel is astounding in its complexity and psychological depth, and it’s suffused with an almost unearthly beauty; it doesn’t seem of this world. Murasaki’s hero, Hikaru Genji, isn’t a warrior (as you might expect) and certainly isn’t a samurai (those would only appear in literature hundreds of years later). Instead, he’s a man of the arts, the illegitimate son of the emperor, and more than anything, a lover. The sexual exploits of Casanova seem to pale in comparison. We follow his life and many, many loves as he climbs the ranks of the Imperial Court.
  
  “The sight of her lying there, so beautiful yet so thin and weak that she hardly seemed among the living, aroused his love and his keenest sympathy. The hair streaming across her pillow, not a strand out of place, struck him as a wonder, and as he gazed at her, he found himself unable to understand how for all these years he could have seen any flaw in her.”
  
  
  From an album of scenes from the novel, by Tosa Mitsunori (17th century).
  
  The novel centers on life’s three eternals: love, lust, and loss—but mostly love. In Heian Japan, men and women were rarely allowed to see each other clearly. Women sat hidden behind screens and curtains, and all it took was a man seeing a woman’s sleeves spilling from under the blinds to fall madly in love with her. Most of the novel still resonates today, although there are parts that make for… uncomfortable reading. Men in the novel sometimes force themselves on women. Some of these encounters are portrayed as romantic, but most aren’t. The novel is less about the men that figure in it than it is about the women they surround themselves with—“their feelings, their experiences, their fates,” as Royall Tyler writes in the introduction—and one of the most fascinating things about the book is how Murasaki observes and critiques the patriarchal society that confines her and other women, despite the robes, carnations, and poems on scented paper they receive.
  
  “Ah, she reflected, there is nothing so pitifully confined and constricted as a woman. What will reward her passage through the world if she remains sunk in herself, blind to life’s joys and sorrows and to every delight? What will brighten the monotony of her fleeting days? … What a waste for her to shut herself up in her thoughts…”
  
  The Tale of Genji is often compared to In Search of Lost Time, a comparison that hardly seems worth taking seriously, but the similarities really are striking. Both novels try to put all of life into words; they’re social and cultural portraits of their times, interwoven with their protagonists’ transition from childhood to adulthood. Both reveal the inner lives of their characters with great sensitivity and understanding, and have a way of making you stop to notice things—the beauty of every flower, the song of every bird. And both novels deal so often with nostalgia. The central motif of this novel is mono no aware, the awareness of the impermanence of things, that everything and everyone we love is destined to fade away, like autumn leaves or (of course) cherry blossoms—a short while after they open, the slightest breeze sweeps them off their branches in a shower of pink petals. Time flies fast, like dew before the sun, our lives will vanish, and all we can do is cherish every moment.
  
  “The place was a little way into the mountains. the blossoms in the City were gone now, since it was late in the third month, but in the mountains the cherry trees were in full bloom, and the farther he went, the lovelier the veils of mist became, until for him, whose rank so restricted travel that all this was new, the landscape became a source of wonder.”
  
  The characters in this novel are always longing for the past. The snow, the moonlight, the falling blossoms always bring back a flood of memories. I’m still trying to understand why I love books (and films, and music) about memory so much. Perhaps it’s because reading a book, especially one as all-encompassing as this one, is the closest we’ll ever get to living a whole other life, so the characters’ memories—and all the joy, all the sorrow they bring—become ours as well. Or perhaps it’s because all literature—and all art in general, when you think about it—is ultimately about the past. When something is written, it immediately begins to date, and a thousand years later, all that remains is a beautiful relic of the way people thought, the way they felt, and the way they lived their lives.
  
  “Not that tales accurately describe any particular person, rather, the telling begins when all those things the teller longs to have pass on to future generations—whatever there is about the way people live their lives, for better or worse, that is a sight to see or a wonder to hear—overflow the teller’s heart.… To put it nicely, there is nothing that does not have its own value.”
  
  
  Calligraphic excerpt from a chapter of the novel, by Tosa Mitsuyoshi.
  
  The Tale of Genji is no doubt one of the most beautiful books I’ve ever read. It’s taken its place among the actual experiences of my life. It’s full of manners and customs that we may not recognize, that may no longer exist, but its human joys and sorrows are still so familiar; they reach across the ages, and I think that’s a testament constancy of the human heart in our endlessly changing world.
• 
  Geoff

  If I still wrote reviews for this site I'd write a long one about how similar Genji is to Proust. How Genji is like a magical, animistic, haunted version of Proust, dreamed in the ancient world with customs alien to things I recognize, but as resonant, in a human sense, as anything written today. But I don't write reviews for this site anymore.
• 
  E. G.

  Acknowledgments
  List of Maps and Diagrams
  Introduction
  
  --The Tale of Genji
  
  Maps and Diagrams
  Chronology
  General Glossary
  Clothing and Color
  Offices and Titles
  Summary of Poetic Allusions Identified in the Notes
  Characters in 'The Tale of Genji'
  Further Reading
• 
  Richard Derus

  Rating: 5* of five
  
  
  This review at A Dribble of Ink says more about why Genji matters than I can ever do.
  
  I read the book in 1974. I got a hardcover Modern Library edition from my decade-older sister, who owned a bookstore. I read it in one solid week of enchantment, followed by a year of revisits and studies of the notes and other references. (The librarians at my high school agreed with the kids who teased me for being weird.)
  
  This is a new translation, I have a copy, but many chunksters await my attention that I haven't read before. I'll get back to it. I look forward to getting back to it!
• 
  nastya

  Review for the abridged penguin classics translated and edited by Royall Tyler -- 4 stars
  
  This is basically a very long story about magnificent Genji dealing with his countless women and court intrigues.
  This is a fantastic abridged version, the version I'll recommend to anyone who's curious about this story. Royall Tyler picked the best parts from the first 17 books, some are unabridged, others are slightly abridged, and then some of them are skipped altogether. He also simplified the naming of the various characters. You see, in the original it was rude to mention people's names, so the work refers to them by their job titles or in relation to other people. And since some character's titles change through their careers and the same titles are inhabited by different people it can be quite a frustrating and confusing reading experience. What we get as a result is a smoother and clearer story where you can enjoy the rich Japanese medieval court world with its arts, customs and poetry.
  
  And also this time I appreciated how modern this story felt. When I read Beowulf or Homer I never feel that real people live in those pages. Perhaps that’s why contemporary retellings are so attractive. But this ancient work of literature is full of real humans, warm-blooded, messy, jealous humans that gives this book a timelessness. Such a fascinating experience, because remember, this book is a contemporary of the aforementioned Beowulf.
  
  So yeah, read this version and if after finishing it you'll crave another 800 pages of Genji, only then pick up the unabridged text.
  
  Review for the unabridged penguin deluxe edition translated and edited by Royall Tyler -- 2 stars
  
  I've read almost 400 pages of this beast. And there's 750 pages left...
  And this book became a chore and I'm not having any fun with it. It's time to through in a towel.
  You know what this book is in a nutshell?
  
  It is an OG chick lit. It was written by a court lady for the purpose of entertaining of other court ladies in a deeply patriarchal worlds where women were hidden from men behind doors and curtains. And composed poems and played music for men's entertainment. It is a story about sexy gorgeous heavily perfumed Genji trying to have consensual or more often non-consensual sex with every woman he fancies. This is a bodice ripper, or kimono ripper I suppose?
  
  Every chapter is for a new woman. It goes like this: Genji meets some beautiful lady, becomes passionate, rapes her or sometimes seduces, then he writes letters with poems to her and weeps because of his feeling. Lather, rinse, repeat.
  I know that astrologer prophesied Genji having 3 kids in his life with 2 of them becoming emperor and empress but i have a suspicion that half of Japanese kids at that time were illegitimate kids of his.
  
  Here's an example:
  The first thing Genji does after his wife dies in labor is going home and marrying and having sex with a young girl he abducted a few years earlier(she was 9) from her father(His Highness) because she reminded Genji of his lover and her aunt (Lady Fujitsubo), who is a primary consort of his father, the Emperor, and she became a consort because Lady Fujitsubo reminded the Emperor of his favorite dead lover and Genji's mother.
  
  The problem is that there's nothing else to the story, no adventures, political intrigues. Which is understandable because these women never went outside by themselves and it was forbidden for women in that time to learn about history or politics.
  This is the quote:
  Genji marshaled all the arguments he could, but I should not have repeated any of them.
  (Footnote: Because matters of history and government are not for a woman to discuss.)
  
  So I guess I could've pushed through but I'm feeling my mortality and there's too many books I want to read in this life. Goodbye my sweet Genji.
• 
  Ophelia

  Oh yes, I totally want to read about all the affairs Genji, the "shining" prince, had with dozens of other women. Not to mention most of these women looked like his mother in some way or another. (Freud would be esctatic.) One of these women wasn't even a woman at all, but a small child he pretty much abducted. Of course, this young girl looked like his mother.
  
  The fact that this is the first true psychological novel in the world is interesting, it really is. But just because it is so doesn't mean it's interesting as a story.
• 
  Deborah

  I simply cannot believe this book is celebrating it's 1000th anniversary this year. The characters are so complex, with such a human range of emotions. There are so many characters, yet each one is unique. She has so calculatedly dialed in each character, subtly conveying how close they come to her view of perfection - Murasaki being at the top of this, and (in my opinion) Niou and others being at the bottom.
  It is so easy to see how this book still influences literary styles in Japan today... the fatalistic & existential as well as the methods of characterization -- these same methods can be seen in anime and manga today. It is definitely not an exaggeration to say that Genji's writing has influenced Japan as much as Shakespeare has influenced English literature.
  
  Shikibu also reveals the nature of Japanese culture with such eloquence. When I first started reading it, I was split between boredom w/Genji (and the author's obsession with his beauty) and fascination with the complexity of 9th century Japanese court. But as I read further I became more and more amazed at the beauty and subtlety of Shikibu's writing and poetry. I felt I was being spoiled - the writing felt so luxurious and conveyed so much atmosphere in each scene. It was easy to envision each room, each wilderness.
  The fact that the poetry has been translated from archaic Japanese that was laden with metaphors and double meanings --which are completely lost in the translation -- and still reads beautifully says a lot. She can convey so much without directly saying it, and with such intimacy it feels like you're reading a letter from a close friend (though I'm sure part of this is owed to the translator). I love how she occasionally speaks to the reader, I love how she goes into detail about the clothes and gifts and gardens (the number one indication a woman wrote it), the nuances of each characters handwriting, and how this has bearing on the true substance of that character.
  
  It is undeniable that -- while the plot may be dull and a bit trivial -- Shikibu's writing is truly genius.
  
• 
  Paul

  I read the Royall Tyler translation and the Folio Society edition. One of the bonuses of the edition I read is the marvellous art work. Well over a thousand pages long and over a thousand years old (written between 1000 and 1012). I can well understand how people can spend their whole lives studying this and around this. Sadly I didn’t discover this in my youth but nevertheless it was a wonderful reading experience. Not easy to follow all the time as there is a myriad of characters and it is most important to remember that they are identified by rank or role rather than by name as a rule. It has a claim to be the first novel and was written by a woman.
  The tale is primarily about Genji and his doings (and misdoings), although he does die about two thirds of the way through, but there are also strong female characters. Woolf was a fan and she noted that it was originally meant to be read aloud:
  “listeners . . . were grown-up people . . . absorbed . . . in the contemplation of man’s nature; how passionately he desires things that are denied; how his longing for a life of tender intimacy is always thwarted; . . . how beautiful the falling snow is, and how, as he watches it, he longs more than ever for someone to share his solitary joy.”
  I will avoid the controversies (and there are many) and just say it is well worth taking out time to read this. Read a version with explanations and footnotes, these are very necessary.
  
• 
  Alienor ✘ French Frowner ✘

  I've come to realize that the 'right moment' to read a 1K+ novel never ever appeared on my doorstep so of course I thought fuck it and let's do it, that's how I roll
• 
  Francesca Calarco

  Reading The Tale of Genji is like floating through a dream. Written by Murasaki Shikibu a thousand years ago during the Heian era, this literary work is widely considered to be the first novel the world has ever known. While there is a lot of grandeur affiliated with being the first, I would argue that this is probably the least interesting detail of Lady Murasaki’s masterpiece. Moreover, The Tale of Genji is worth reading because it eloquently interweaves a tale within a culture in flux.
  
  The Heian period was a truly unique time in Japan’s history and the point when the country began to really take on the hallmarks that define Japanese culture today. This was when the imperial court moved to Kyoto for the first time, when the Fujiwara clan dominated politics, and when Buddhism (and other foreign beliefs/ideas) began to spread throughout the country. In order to understand how The Tale of Genji captures this energetic zeitgeist, I must first break down how Murasaki Shikibu incorporates the religions of Shinto and Buddhism into her prose.
  
  Note: To be clear, Shinto and Buddhism are belief systems that are able to coexist with one another, as well as other beliefs. While one can be more influential than the other (as I will somewhat make the case for here), they are not mutually exclusive in the way Western religions have been, historically speaking.
  
  Shinto
  
  Shinto is the indigenous religion of Japan; an animistic belief in kami (gods or spirits) that are infused within nature and living things. To this day, there are still shrines and tori (large red gates) throughout Japan built in dedication to Shinto. This religious tradition also contains the origin myth of the gods Izanami and Izanagi – the two deities who create the islands of Japan, establish the balance of life and death, and give birth to the kami infused throughout the country’s landscape. Reverence for nature’s primordial divinity is a recurring theme throughout Murasaki’s work.
  
  “Faces and flowers emerged dimly in the morning twilight, and birds were singing in the clear sky” (316)
  
  Most notable of these kami is Amaterasu, the goddess of the sun and heavens. According to the Kojiki (c. 712) and Nihon Shiki (c. 720), the imperial family of Japan are direct descendants of Amaterasu. It is important to understand that in The Tale of Genji when Murasaki Shikibu describes Genji and his descendants’ beauty as “shining,” or that they “radiate light,” or have a distinctly “pleasant fragrance,” she is crafting alliterations to their celestial roots. To be an imperial in the Heian era, is to exude ingrained divinity.
  
  The titular Genji literally shines like no other, but given his tragic maternal backing (or lack thereof) he is never able to ascend to the rank of Emperor, echoing the power dynamics of the time. Throughout the Heian era, the Fujiwara clan were able to control politics by intermarrying their daughters into the imperial line. With their incumbent power and influence they could provide their grandsons with enough support to propel them to the throne. So while Genji has extraordinary privilege, given his social standing he is still an underdog of sorts in this particular tale.
  
  Buddhism
  
  Buddhism, an ideology and religion originating in India, greatly spreads throughout Japan during the Heian period. While beliefs and practice vary depending on different sects, Buddhism typically follows a set of principles surrounding the Four Noble Truths. These truths are that in life humans cling to impermanence and that this desire causes suffering, which suspends people in a cycle of rebirth that can only be broken by following the Eightfold Path to achieve a state of nirvana.
  
  The pain of ephemeral desire is a central theme throughout The Tale of Genji. At the start of the novel, Genji is born to a low ranking courtesan of the Emperor who tragically dies. The emperor, filled with grief, discovers his dead beloved’s likeness in Fujitsubo who then becomes his consort. Genji then falls for Fujitsubo and secretly fathers her son (a boy known to the world as his brother) who becomes the future Reizei Emperor. Scandal! Then, unable to be with Fujitsubo, Genji discovers her likeness in a young Murasaki (the character, not the author) who he takes in and eventually marries. More scandal!
  
  “The days and months passed, and the little prince was becoming the mirror image of Genji. Though Fujitsubo was in constant terror, it appeared that no one had guessed the truth. How, people asked, could someone who was not Genji yet be as handsome as Genji? They were, Genji and the little prince, like the sun and moon side by side in the heavens” (149).
  
  This seemingly endless cycle of replacement to satiate desire catalyzes a great deal of the story’s conflict and meets an almost hilarious crescendo with the (creepy) Kashiwagi. He catches an accidental glimpse of the Third Princess playing with a cat and becomes incessantly infatuated. Propelled by the tumult of desire for this unattainable woman, he goes to great lengths to procure her cat from the crown prince. He then monologues to the cat, “What an insistent little beast you are… You are here to remind me of someone I long for, and what is it you long for yourself? We must have been together in an earlier life, you and I” (589). He never returns the cat, though that is probably the least of his crimes.
  
  All and all, no matter the rank of an individual, anyone can be subject to substitution. This is a rather powerful concept for royals, especially considering several hundred years later people would be beheaded for even thinking such notions in Europe. Heck, even Genji dies two-thirds of the way through the novel, only to be replaced by his descendants Kaoru and Niou. Not even the main character is safe in his own book! But his radiant light goes out, nonetheless…
  
  Feminine Agency
  
  The interplay of Shintoism and Buddhism were quite consequential to life in Heian court, dictating cultural norms and expectations. Notably, these beliefs would have great baring on how women were able to exert themselves within this turbulent world.
  
  Taking a step back for a moment, I must admit my biases in that I do not personally care for most of the men in this book. Putting it mildly, so many behave so poorly, with at least three assaults occurring by the tale’s end. That said, these are characters meant to have the divinity of someone like Zeus (same story, different continent/era), so while force is frowned upon, these characters are generally still regarded as typical masculine protagonists within the context of their rigid and patriarchal social structure. More interesting, however, are the women who must react to and navigate these celestial forces of nature.
  
  “You should treat any woman with tact and courtesy, and be sure that you cause her no embarrassment. You should never have a woman angry with you…” (159)
  
  Murasaki Shikibu writes her female characters with a vibrancy that would not be seen for many subsequent years (*caughs* centuries *caughs*). She is also at times quite explicit about why men should be kind to women, whether it be for the adherence of decency, fear of future karmic retribution, or even dread of the women themselves.
  
  Enter the Rokujo Lady -- my favorite “scorned woman” in perhaps all of literature. One of Genji’s many “girlfriends,” she grows increasingly resentful when Genji ignores her, not treating her with the dignity of her station as the widow of a former crown prince. This resentment morphs into her angry spirit attacking her foes in their dreams. What’s so especially fascinating though, is that she is still portrayed as more tragic than villainous. Suffering begat from desire is always the true villain of this tale.
  
  “She had not wished ill to anyone; and might it be that the soul of one so lost in sad thoughts went wandering off by itself? She had, over the years, known the full range of sorrows, but never before had she felt so miserable. There had been no release from the anger since the other lady had so insulted her, indeed behave as if she did not exist…She would be notorious. It was common enough for the spirits of the angry dead to linger on in this world. She had thought them hateful, and it was her own lot to set a hateful example while she still lived. She must think no more about the man who had been so cruel to her. But so to think was, after all, to think.” (167)
  
  Another woman of note is the eponymous Murasaki, who could not be more different from the Rokujo Lady. This is a girl who finds herself forced to marry the man she regarded as a father-figure, and becomes a woman who has to spend years dealing with the consequences of his numerous affairs. Genji’s selfishness ultimately brings marital strife, a brief exile, and a daughter from another woman. Nevertheless, Murasaki raises Genji’s daughter like her own without an ounce of malice, allowing for the girl to go on and become the Akashi Empress.
  
  Murasaki is the epitome of virtue (well played Shikibu), and it is only in the contrasting light of her selflessness that Genji feels true remorse and grief. While only my opinion, I do feel it is implied that by releasing her resentment, Murasaki is able to break her chain of suffering. Meanwhile, Genji, acting on his human impulses and ego, will be doomed to continue on without her in a future life. In perhaps his truest moment of genuine grief, Genji reflects:
  
  “He would remember, now that romantic affairs meant so little to him, how hurt Murasaki had been by involvements of no importance at all. Why had he permitted himself even the trivial sort of dalliance for which he felt no need to apologize? Murasaki had been too astute not to guess his real intentions; and yet, though she had been quick to recover from fits of jealousy which were never violent in any event, the fact was that she suffered. Each little incident came back, until he had no room in his heart for them all… All through the wakeful nights he thought of her courage and strength and longed to have them with him again, even in a dream” (724)
  
  Another recurring way that women escape suffering (*caughs* Genji *caughs*) is by disavowing the world and joining a nunnery. From Fujitsubo to the Third Princess, this choice is presented as a very tangible method by which women are able to utilize Buddhism to grasp a simultaneously peaceful and purposeful life. Even Ukifune, who wants nothing more than to disentangle herself from a toxic and horrific situation, is able to find solace in a Buddhist nunnery.
  
  “The disastrous events had so turned her against men, it seemed, that she meant to end her days as little a part of the world as a decaying stump. The gloom of the last months lifted a little, now that she had had her way. She would joke with the bishop’s sister and they would play Go together. She turned her studies of the Good Law with a new dedication, perusing the Lotus Sutra and numbers of holy texts…” (1074)
  
  It's important to have the final say over your own life. Sadly this is a rarity, but Murasaki Shikibu in a way created a blueprint, how-to guide for women on dealing with numerous unfortunate situations that could potentially arise at Heian court.
  
  The World’s First Soap Opera
  
  Last but not least, now that I’ve gotten all my more substantive opinions out of the way, I must confess that my favorite element of this book is that it is undeniably a soap opera. Am I using modern terminology to describe a thousand-year old text? Yes. But I don’t think I’m wrong -- everyone is related to everyone else, everyone (well, mostly Genji) sleeps with everyone else, and there is oh so much melodrama. In true telenovela fashion you even have people speaking their hidden truth to each other in dreams; serialize it and air it on Telemundo! Most important though, the story can be frivolous and goes on for enjoyment’s sake, and that’s okay. Murasaki Shikibu more or less breaks the fourth wall when she has Genji exclaim to Tamakazura:
  
  “Women seem to have been born to be cheerfully deceived. They know perfectly well that in all these old stories there is scarcely a shred of truth, and yet they are captured and made sport of the whole range of trivialities and go on scribbling them down, quite unaware that in these warm rains their hair is all dank and knotted��� But amid all the fabrication I must admit that I do find real emotions and plausible chains of events. We can be quite aware of the frivolity and idleness and still be moved. We have to feel a little sorry for a charming princess in the depths of gloom.” (437)
  
  In this world of Heian era Japan, women, even privileged ones, often found themselves at the mercy of the men in their lives. Nonetheless, Murasaki allows her female protagonists the chance to grow, learn, and even rebel. Through this outrageous grandiosity with her storytelling, she is able to truly humanize them. Subsequently, what began as a tale for women at court, blooms into an unprecedented epic for everyone for generations to come.
  
  All that said, of course I recommend The Tale of Genji, though I do acknowledge that it probably won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. I am also inclined to recommend Edward G. Seidensticker’s English translation. While this is my first full read through, I read major sections for Japanese literature courses back in university where my professors vouched that this was the most accurate edition. I feel like I owe them countless thanks. They instilled in me the foundational knowledge to better understand this work, as well as the ability to talk about it in smoky bars with drunken co-workers when I would later live in Japan (something else I highly recommend).
  
  Kanpai!
• 
  Akemi G.

  The world's very first, and possibly still the BEST, novel written by a Japanese woman! How can I not recommend this?
  
  It was written in the early 1000's (impossible to pinpoint the year because it was written and released over many years), primarily for the court ladies. I have read several versions of modern Japanese translation, part of the original text, and I have a copy of the Tyler translation. I have not read other English translations, but I can say Tyler's translation is fair.
  
  Translation is a sophisticated work. It's not just about swapping Japanese words for English ones. The translator must have healthy understanding of the sociocultural background of the original novel. In a case like this, the translator must also know the difference between classic Japanese and modern Japanese; a word that is still in use might have meant something else before. Then the product must read well as English prose.
  
  Because of the nature of the Japanese language, the subject of the sentence is often unstated. (A sentence always has a subject in meaning. However, in Japanese, the subject is often omitted, to the point that omission is the norm. This means the audience must be able to figure out what the subject is. Due to cultural changes over the years, this isn't easy even for Japanese readers today.) And the sentences in the original are extremely long, so even when the subject is stated, it's easy to get confused by the time you reach the verb, which is placed at the end of the sentence in Japanese. The English sentences, on the other hand, must have subjects to be structurally correct. I think Tyler translation works out a good solution, being clear while also keeping some of the original beauty.
  
  I am pleasantly surprised to find that quite many people are enjoying this novel, and not just for the exoticism. With all the differences between Genji's world and our modern world, there is something so relevant, something that attracts us. We haven't changed much in essence; we still fall in love with the wrong person. We still suffer in love. We get a strange kick out of our romantic suffering. And life goes on while we are caught in the drama.
  
  Was Genji a womanizing jerk? I don't think so. Note that this novel was written by a woman, primarily for female audience. Yes, he gets into many relationships, and many are "wrong" kinds. The readers still sensed his genuine kindness and brilliance. That's why we've been reading it for 1000 years.
  
  A word about Young Murasaki
  One of the main female characters, Murasaki, is about 10 years old when Genji, about 18 yo, spots her and decides to take care of her. Are you outraged? Easy, their consummation takes place years later. Also, we might want to take into consideration that people matured much faster in the old days. Genji is supposedly 12 when he first marries to Aoi, 16.
  
  By the way, men read this novel, too. The very reason Murasaki Shikibu was hired as a lady-in-waiting for Empress Shoshi was to keep the Emperor's interest with this novel. Male courtiers eagerly made copies of this novel; in fact, the oldest existing manuscripts are made by male calligraphers -- done in their private time. In their day jobs as court officials, they wrote official records in Chinese characters.
• 
  Amanda Spacaj-Gorham

  This novel is a challenge on many levels. The biggest challenge of all is not resenting (or even despising) Genji himself. It is best read in conjunction with "The World of the Shining Prince" by Ivan Morris to understand the environment(1,000 years ago at the end of the Heian Period). Also read the Diary of Lady Murasaki. I wouldn't bother taking on 1,090 pages of Genji without the assistance of these works, which are much easier to digest.
  
  Also read ALL the footnotes. When this book was written, the audience was assumed to have read all important Chinese and Japanese literature and poetry of the time and all proceeding. The endless references and allusions to other works makes the meaning subtle and complex in exchanges that would be otherwise banal.
  
  If you're ever going to read The Tale of Genji, I'd recommend this Seidensticker translation. I've previewed a few others and I believe this system of actually naming the hundreds of unnamed characters helps.
  
  I give this version 5 stars because Seidensticker did a magnificent job of translation, though it's really difficult to give Genji the character 5 stars (he's such a sh*t sometimes!).
  
• 
  Emily May

  Putting this back on my TBR. I started reading it and then realized I had accidentally picked up the abridged version at the library - I thought it looked small! I just think if I'm going to read it I might as well go the whole way.
• 
  Smiley

  This epic-like Japanese novel is, of course, quite lengthy (54 Chapters, 1120 pages) and thus reading it would take your time and concentration. I thought I would never finish reading it but, after my visit to Japan for a week last April, I decided to resume reading it mixed with boredom and enjoyment.
  
  This novel written by a court lady in the 11th century has been depicted on various, innumerable noble characters with illustrious noble titles unfamiliar to, I think, most of its readers outside Japan. Therefore, we should read its chronology (pp. 1125-1133) before/while reading each Chapter because it'd help to guide us on what happens, who're the key characters, what and why they do, what're the consequences, etc. As far as I know, only this edition translated by Royall Tyler offers this useful guide to its readers. This considerate approach, I hope, should lessen our boredom.
  
  Surprisingly, I've never read any war scene or military campaign since it might not be her genre/expertise so we're always immersed in dream-like romance episodes related to various couples tinged by eventual psychological dilemma due to love or suffering. There are lots of Japanese-style word plays which we may read casually or skip some and I'm quite sure those readers who know Japanese may find them more enjoyable and understandable.
  
  In brief, the whole plot of the novel essentially focused on various life cycles of those key characters, that is, from birth to death and along the way all dignitaries suffer their aging as well as illness in which all mortals simply can't escape from the ultimate cycle.
  
  Nearing the end of this novel, I think Ukifune's decision to renounce the world by being a Buddhist nun is wistfully touching, remarkable and wise. However, her fate is similar to the young lady named Satoko Ayakura in the last chapter of "The Decay of the Angel," Book 4 of "The Sea of Fertility" by Fukio Mishima. I wonder if he's conceived the idea of such an end from this legendary novel.
  
  In essence, this famous Japanese 'Tale' is not a classic best-seller or page-turner, rather it's a literary treasure penned by such a formidable scholar named Lady Murasaki Shikibu as her masterpiece for those interested in Japanese court/culture/ways of life who may try reading it and enjoy some unthinkable, romantic atmosphere 10 centuries ago in ancient Japan.
  
  This paragraph suggests a tip of thought and action to some friends reluctant to read it or having started it but stopped somewhere: I think, first of all, we should be determined and constructive in terms of this a bit formidable literary mission, have no fear, just keep going, stay focused from what we're reading, find out some readable sentences, paragraphs, episodes, etc. and take notes as part of active reading. Then, I'd like to recommend my friends to read "The World of the Shining Prince: Court Life in Ancient Japan" (Kodansha 1994) by Dr Ivan Morris, one of the great Japanese scholars in the 20th century since this authoritative book would provide you with some backgrounds essential to our familiarity for better understanding and thus its more readability. Please allow me to confirm why we should read this key work by citing the following excerpt :
  
  The World of the Shining Prince, ..., has been a standard in cultural studies for nearly thirty years. Using as a frame of reference The Tale of Genji and other major literary works from Japan's Heian period, Morris recreates an era when women set the cultural tone. Focusing on the world of the emperor's court -- ... -- he describes the politics, society, religious life, and superstitions of the times, providing detailed portrayals of the daily life of courtiers, the cult of beauty they espoused and the intricate relations between the men and women of their milieu. (back cover)
• 
  booklady

  December 28th, 2022: I cannot believe I finished it! I also cannot believe how it just ended. The ending was just a cutoff and not a real ending. So disappointing. But then after such a saga, I cannot imagine how there could have been any resolution. It will take me a while to write a review. This was such an epic and it has taken me so long to read, I am going to have to do some pondering to decide even how to review it... It is a most remarkable book!
  
  
  
  December 8, 2022: Even though I have been reading and/or listening to this book for over 6 months now and do not expect to finish it this year, I am still enjoying it very much when I do listen to it, which now is when I exercise, approximately 3 or 4 times @ week for 1/2 hour or so. At this point, Genji is dead, and the tale is about two sisters, the elder of which is also dead, and her relationship with two men, the Counselor and His Highness. Their actual names are rarely used, and only given at the start of the chapter. It is a story of high etiquette, appreciation and following of strict rules of behavior, yet great appreciation for beauty in its many forms: nature, human, music, art, poetry and even penmanship. Often as the reader, one is exasperated by one or more of the characters for his or her (usually her) extreme adherence to personal rejection of fate, but then there are always the dramatic options of escape to the monastery or dying in despair, which are both popular choices. I do not mean to make light of the story, because it is in a class of its own and is not meant to be read lightly or quickly, still it's not entirely possible for this 21st century reader to put off her chronocentric mindset and completely enter into that age and life, however much I might want to. Still reading...
  
  I have had a copy of this on my shelf for ages... I found it in a secondhand book shop on a visit to my sister and tried to tell her what a find it was. She just looked at me and smiled as most non-readers do when book people try to tell them about special books. My copy is in EXCELLENT, brand new, condition, and I got it for only $20. I shall be handling it very carefully as I read it.
  
  This is supposed to be the oldest known novel, from Japan and written by a woman. So far delighted with how readable it is! There was a very long introduction which was extremely helpful.
  
  Genji seems to be something of a charming rake, at least so far.
• 
  David

  Arguably the first novel ever written (using a modern definition of novel), and at the very least the first novel written by a woman, this essential work traces the life of a prince in medieval (Heian) Japan. The novel is intensely psychological and manages to very consistently portray the lives of hundreds of individuals across half a century or more. Aside from the insight the novel provides into the extremely rarified culture of the Japanese court in the middle ages, a reader comes away from Genji feeling that he has just witnessed a life, a real, visceral life, with all its ups and downs, beauty and ugliness. It is truly a work of genius. The novelist Yasunari Kawabata was right to declare in his Nobel Prize acceptance speech that Genji "is the highest pinnacle of Japanese literature. Even down to our day there has not been a piece of fiction to compare with it."
  
• 
  Nicky

  Finally finished - yippee! Feel like I have just finished running a marathon :-)
• 
  Elena Sala

  THE TALE OF GENJI is a canonical work of Japanese literature that is often credited with being the first "novel" ever written (despite the obvious anachronism of that term when applied to this text). It was written as a serialized work by a noblewoman called Murasaki Shikibu, who lived and wrote in the XIth century. Actually, very little is known about the author: Murasaki is the name of one of the characters and there is no certainty the author was called that way or even if she wrote the whole text herself.
  
  It was produced in the context of an aristocratic society, in a very gender segregated world. The story centers around a character called Genji, an incredibly handsome, brilliant, charming, irresistible young man.
  
  His mother was one of the Emperor’s "wives" (actually, something called an "Intimate"). The other wives were jealous because she was the Emperor’s favorite, however, her lower social status didn't allow the Emperor to make this gifted son his heir. Genji's mother died when he was only 3 years old and the Emperor decided he should become a commoner, for his own safety. However, "Shining Genji" would always live in the Heian court, he would always be a very influential person and his dazzling, aristocratic presence would captivate everyone, especially the ladies. Oh yes, Genji likes the ladies and his stories of seduction and courtships are what most of this huge book is about.
  
  This is a work written to entertain. It was never meant to be considered high literature. In a way, it reads like juicy court gossip so it's not hard to imagine that Genji's story could have captured its readers’ imaginations with its political intrigue and court drama. However, it can also be read as a subtle critique of Japanese elite society and the notion of court hierarchy during the Heian period.
  
  THE TALE OF GENJI has been hugely influential: movies, TV adaptations, manga versions, woodblock prints and many other things have been inspired by this piece of literature.
• 
  bup

  Turns out Genji's not the little dog. Huh.
  
  I guess the big lesson here is that it really matters what translation you get of a thousand-year-old Japanese novel. The one published by Tuttle Classics, translated by Kencho Suematsu, is terrible. At first, I figured, hey, thousand-year-old Japanese. Going to be turgid. But then, I noticed, the footnotes couldn't write their collective way out of a paper bag either:
  
  "Sasinuki is a sort of loose trousers, and properly worn by men only, hence some commentators conclude, the attendant here mentioned to be a boy, others contend, this garment was worn by females also when they rode."
  
  You can't blame that on Murasaki, Kencho. I've seen the original scrolls. No footnotes.
  
  Also, this edition (ISBN 0-8048-3256-0) has different chapters than Wikipedia says it should (17 chapters versus 54), and is 208 pages long, whereas other editions are ~1,200. On the other hand, I kind of read 1,200 pages because I had to reread each sentence about six times. I have no idea what I read. Maybe the real Tale of Genji *is* about the little dog.
  
  The thing I read, I *think*, is about a decadent quasi-royal slut, but it's hard to say because the intimate encounters are all implied. On the other hand, there wasn't much of anything else. It mentioned he had a sword once, but that was probably a double-entendre. So no swash-buckling, no comedy, no suspense. Mostly I read something that's like listening to a person on a phone describe a trashy chick-flick they're watching. It had that "once removed" feeling to it. I never felt like I was reading the story, just what somebody who had read the story felt like telling.
  
  Read a different edition.
• 
  Edita

  The Tale of Genji combines two genres prose and poetry and it is a tale of romance, court customs, rules and rituals. It also tells us about passions, desires, obsessions and frustrations. A lot of communication is done by poems, which allow to say what otherwise would stay hidden.
  My reading assignment included: From Chapter I. The Lady of the Paulownia–Courtyard Chambers; From Chapter II. Broom Cypress; From Chapter V. Little Purple Gromwell; From Chapter VII. An Imperial Celebration of Autumn Foliage; From Chapter IX. Leaves of Wild Ginger; From Chapter XII. Exile to Suma; From Chapter XIII. The Lady at Akashi; From Chapter XXV. Fireflies; From Chapter XL. The Rites.
  
  Of course, I haven't read the book in full as it consists as if of separate stories which often don't follow the timeline and overlap with each other but I enjoyed reading the world's first novel, especially parts with allusive poetry, pining for love and doomed relationships.
  
  “When all life is dew and at any touch may go, one drop then the next,
  how I pray that you and I may leave nearly together!”
  [...]
  “In this fleeting world where no dewdrop can linger in the autumn wind,
  why imagine us to be unlike the bending grasses?”
• 
  Stephen

  La poésie veut quelque chose d'énorme de barbare et de sauvage.
  (Poetry craves something enormous, barbarous and wild).
  -Diderot
  
  I would much rather meet Murasaki than I would the quirky and observant Sei Shonagon or the sexually charged, emotionally volatile, religiously inspired Nijo, fun though those two might be, as the more substantive woman of the tradition. It would take some time breaking down her barriers, but once through them the culture she'd impart would be tremendous. I know I am of a like mind with her when she complains and gossips in her diaries (in order to instruct us) about Sei Shonagon,
  (she's) dreadfully conceited. She thought herself so clever and littered her writings with Chinese characters; but if you examined them closely, they left a great deal to be desired. Those who think of themselves as being superior to everyone else in this way will inevitably suffer and come to a bad end, and people who have become so precious that they go out of their way to try and be sensitive in the most unpromising situations, trying to capture every moment of interest, however slight, are bound to look ridiculous and superficial. How can the future turn out well for them?
  Well enough that Sei Shonagon is used as an example in Japanese schools today as the epitome of excellent style in expression. But I think that despite that we could still have some good laughs about the silliness and illusions these children are being taught as we banter back and forth knowingly about the accessible cast.
  
  
  
  Translation Issues
  
  This has been an outstanding reading experience for me despite the English versions being a major barrier to enjoyment. Begun over two and a half years ago I've been reading it slowly, slowly, at a kind of pace as if I've been living within Murasaki's court. Now that I've almost finished the tale I feel that I can finally begin to read her in her splendor: after having read the first 400 pages in the Royall Tyler translation, the second 400 pages in the Arthur Waley translation, the next 150 pages or so in the Edward Seidensticker translation I realized just last month while browsing the Yosano Akiko modernization at Schoenhof's in Harvard Square that the years of studying Japanese have actually born some fruit. With great joy I discovered hers isn't so difficult to read - Yosano Akiko's own letters, essays and poems actually contain more classical elements than her version of Murasaki. With this one I can feel rest assured that the poems will be poems and not the weird approximations that we find with the English. Waley, for instance, pitches up the tone when the prose shifts to poetry so that there are many thees and thous and hithers and thithers, as we are brought back to some corner of Elizabethan England to look for a match. Tyler turns Murasaki's poetry into bland prose - you can skip past these "poems" and nothing would be lost. Seidensticker pretty much admitted in his memoir (which I read last month) that he has little interest in poetry to begin with (an astonishing thing to reveal). There's an unintentionally telling and amusing anecdote in his memoir that says while translating Kawabata he would often ask the novelist for explanations of his ambiguities... only to get blatantly ignored: you picture Kawabata thinking, if you cannot handle these on your own what are you doing translating us?
  
  I have spent the past two years plus, basically, reading no more than a one thousand page introduction to Murasaki's tale.
  
  But the English translators have done the unimaginably difficult thing of translating The Tale of Genji in its entirety and they do offer an approximation so perhaps it's bad form criticizing the results. As approximations of the original the translation issue is not with style but of receiving a difference in kind. There's the complete absence of poetry, for one. And for Murasaki as an incomparable observer of male and female character where is the wit and the sense of humor? Waley hints at it, especially with the passages where the noisy, young lady-in-waiting is featured about halfway through: "She could be seen at any hour of the day running this way and that at full speed (and usually in the wrong direction) with a zest never equaled in the annals of this ancient house". Seidensticker sticks to a factual retelling while Tyler's slothful prose doesn't appear equipped to handle the ironies that are undoubtedly there (not to mention that he often employs court names and rank instead of character names, a fidelity to the text I found extremely confusing). With Tyler this lack of verbal dexterity is especially deflating, since he has done such excellent scholarly work which is presented as helpful footnotes at the bottom of each page (the Chinese poems from which Murasaki is drawing, for example). Tyler's English is the least readable, though some would say Waley's is, but if you've ever read Scott-Moncrieff's À la recherche du temps perdu Waley's prose will not be a problem. His aim is creating the psychological atmosphere first (similar to one that is found in Madame de La Fayette's La princesse de clèves), so that the sentences aren't really all that important once you recognize the world Murasaki has created. You read his sentences so as not to be able to quote them. If you're looking for "what-happens-to-who-and-when only" then Seidensticker's is excellent - but it feels like what you'd get if you retold Shakespeare through Hemingway's prose: not only have you stripped away all the excitement but it feels like the psychology isn't telling the whole story. Yosano Akiko's ironical touch in her poems is magnificent, especially when describing those kinds of faithful men who would preserve their sense of well-being over sexual excitement (once again, a quality sacrificed when she's turned into an English person through translation), so I proceed eagerly, onward, exhilarated, as the tale exists today within her hands.
  
  These versions do have their value, though. I'd recommend you compare the three versions next to each other to find out which one is the most appealing. I would also say that it's not absolutely necessary to read all one thousand pages plus to get a sense of Murasaki's genius given that the tale isn't plotted in a post-1789 democratic-era sense (that a novel must have a beginning, middle and an end). At some point "the main character" Genji fades from the scene and then the next generation takes over, almost becoming another tale altogether. For a sampling I would recommend the chapter focusing on Genji and his relation to his wife Aoi (chapter 9, called "Aoi"), or the ones dealing with his exile (chapters 12 and 13, called "Suma" and "Akashi"), or one of my favorite chapters, the one where great music is to be played in a concert, spring has appeared, and Genji, caught in the middle of a myriad of feminine sensibilities is at a loss for which woman to spend the night with (the short chapter 23, called "Hatsune" - Waley's version is the one to read).
  
  
  
  Murasaki's Genius
  
  紫の かがやく花と 日の光 思ひあはざる ことわりもなし
  (紫に輝く花と日の光が思いたがう道理がない。)
  
  Make no mistake
  When the light of the day shines
  On the violet Murasaki
  The flowering is bright
  Invoking us to its truth
  
  Yosano Akiko's translation of Murasaki starts with this poem she wrote as a kind of honorary gesture to the woman who set the standard for all Japanese literature to come. The word Murasaki is "a violet flower," and it has been here much longer than the day. So many 20th century poets and novelists have cut their teeth on her work. Higuchi Ichiyo, for one, who when she wrote in her diary the following she had Murasaki in mind, "Still, if one writes but a one-page piece that appeals to the human heart and depicts human sincerity, how dare we say it has no literary value? I do not desire to live lavishly by dressing splendidly and dwelling in a grand house. I am attempting to establish a thousand-year legacy as a writer; why would I tarnish it with (writing that is a kind of) temporary extravagance?" And it looks like Ichiyo is well on her way: more than a hundred years later she appears on Japanese currency.
  
  Out of all the genius men and women of literature I am reading now, then, Murasaki Shikibu intrigues me the most. The genius of Shakespeare - great actor, businessman and poet - is something I can easily visualize, even though there is little to say about his biography in relation to his work. "Murasaki Shikibu" was not her given name at birth. Her father was enough of a poet and close enough to power to have a small selection entered in an imperial anthology. Her brother, though essentially lazy, was positioned well enough to become Minister of War. Like Margaret Fuller and Virginia Woolf her father's influence on her education was significant. Through him she sharpened her intelligence based on close readings of the classics of Chinese literature. Like Nijo three centuries later, Murasaki appears to have tried to secure her family's place in the cosmos on her own, since her father didn't realize his talents as much as he should have. A familiar pattern emerges of fathers whose intelligence was superior for their daughters but not superior enough to create lasting art on their own.
  
  When Murasaki was born and when she died is guesswork. We know she was born of the great Fujiwara clan who ruled the court, but as close as this clan was to power birth didn't guarantee influence. How well individuals married determined the political environment and she served more than she stood out. Her husband was a much older man, had at least three wives that gave him children. He was a flamboyant character, and the records show that his high-handed methods as provincial governor caused disturbances "among the people". It is considered unusual that we have any records at all of these ladies-in-waiting. Murasaki was one, but her diaries show that it pleased her to keep plenty of distance between herself and the other women of the court ("So all they see of me is a facade. There are times when I am forced to sit with them and on such occasions I simply ignore their petty criticisms, not because I am particularly shy but because I consider it pointless. As a result, they consider me dull.") Eventually she became well-placed at the court due to her writing abilities, which was evidence that she might be an excellent tutor of the next generation of leaders. The walls of the imperial court were as claustrophobic as the Japanese workplace is today, where everything is noted and self-analysis is required (in this sense, poetry was and is the perfect vehicle for discovering truths of an enclosed environment, a way for circumventing everything from the ritual and the spontaneity of life that keeps "our world" a place of illusion). Her husband dies, and then not long after that she begins writing a tale that shapes the culture of her country for the next one thousand years. But at least up until the year 1100 - ironies abound - her daughter was known as the much greater poet.
  
  Murasaki might not have stood out at court, but she knew exactly the nature of power. A glance could tell you everything about an individual's place in the power structure. But what set apart a glance from Murasaki to those easily flattered or impressed and who tend to express themselves that way is that she could see straight through to the nature of a person's substance. Much is made of the rules and formality of the Heian court where Murasaki resided, but I think we'd be fooling ourselves if we think we don't have these intense strictures ourselves. Our rules are embedded in a much looser social structure, but when considering the way we apply for power through a resume where one's entire life work must fit on a single page, the way we fashion a glance still counts for everything. I know that for myself I can pretty much tell the quality of a writer by no more than a glance at a few of her pages. The recognition of the glance, according to Murasaki as expressed in her diaries,
  At normal times of informality, you can usually identify someone who has been less than careful about her appearance, but on this occasion everyone had tried as hard as possible to dress well and to look as attractive as the next. Just as in a beautiful example of a Japanese scroll, you could hardly tell them apart. The only difference you could detect was between the older women and the younger ones, and then only because some had hair that was thinning a little, whereas others still had thick tresses. Yet, strangely enough, it seemed that one glance at that part of the face which showed above the fans was enough to tell whether or not a person were truly elegant. Those who still stood out among such women were indeed exceptional (Bowring tr.)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  The Nature of a Masterpiece
  
  I have seen Murasaki's great male hero Genji described as a philanderer (or even more hysterically, a rapist), which makes me feel bad for those advocating this view, for the limited experience they must have had in their sexual relationships, real, imagined or otherwise. Murasaki explores love in all its tenderness and violence without flinching. As soon as Genji reaches maturity he never forgets any of the women who have touched his heart. He appears to suffer much more than he copulates. For creating a male hero like this Murasaki herself must have been exceptional. There are plenty of tears in this tale, but not any more than the guilt and regrets we find expressed in Jewish and Christian literature. Outside of translation issues, another huge barrier to enjoyment for the present-day reader is to find a way to read the tale outside of our economically privatized, middle-class conception of love. It may be hard to believe, but there was once a day when men and women went for lovemaking outside of the risk-averse, contraceptive version we practice today, a time when "no" didn't ALWAYS mean "no", and when the act was enjoyed on its own terms without having to let everyone in the world know who you are with.
  
  On the nights when Genji was away, Murasaki used to make her women read to her. She thus became acquainted with many of the old-fashioned romances, and she noticed that the heroes of these stories, however light-minded, faithless, or even vicious they might be, were invariably represented as in the end settling down to one steady and undivided attachment (Waley tr.)
  
  Much suffering on Genji's part is attributable to his appreciation of beauty on this earth which makes him very attractive to the women of the court. As a form of appreciation his sense of beauty is vast but it is also restless. And like all the men of the court it is situated within a world of political maneuvering.
  
  Nor did anyone make much effort to break in on her seclusion, for suitors are in general more attracted to girls with fathers who can back their interests than to a fatherless one immured in dull seclusion. It was however just the accounts of her strange and depressing existence that had excited Niou's interest, and he was determined to get into contact with her (Waley tr.).
  
  Simone Weil described beauty as a fruit which we look at without trying to seize it. The same goes for an affliction which we contemplate without drawing back from the pain. These two meditations when placed together fit Murasaki's vision perfectly.
  
  Onward then to the heart of Murasaki's vision! It will take up the rest of my life to reach her in her own language but here's one steady and undivided attachment I do not mind settling down with.
  
  ___________________________________
  
  Explanation of images in spoiler.
  They are from fashion photographer Izima Kaoru and I believe highlight an important aspect of Murasaki's themes as they exist in contemporary life. There is nothing quite like a meditation upon the death of beauty at the moment it happens. Izima is simply putting into human form the sources of nature found in traditional Japanese poetry. When asked, "What do you think is the most poetic thing about death?" Izima answered "That death is the beginning of a legend as much as the end of a story, a way to fix the proof of his or her life as something universal into people's memories."
  
  It is the women and not the photographer who have staged their death scenes with Izima's cooperation in the ongoing series "Landscapes with a Corpse". For those unfamiliar with these famous Japanese actresses and models it is probable these images will be viewed abstractly, and maybe for that reason will appear disturbing. But for someone like myself who have followed their roles with fascination and pleasure, their imagined deaths were disturbing in the way intimacy is when it abruptly ends.
  1) Kimura Yoshino wears Alexander McQueen, 2007.
  2) Koizumi Kyoko wears Sybilla, 1993.
  3) Hasegawa Kyoko wears Yves Saint Laurent Rive Gauche, 2003.
  
  
  While it's still up on YouTube the 2011 movie called The Tale of Genji: The Thousand Year Riddle,
  
  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1H7iYk...
  If for nothing it's very exciting to imagine Murasaki reading her tale to the emperor as depicted at 55:32 to 1:01:08. The emperor is seen comparing himself to Murasaki's creation, Genji. How does he match up? Not very well, he suspects. In this way and in so many others, since the reaction was supposed to be immediate we cannot really call what Murasaki wrote a "novel". The impact of her "tale" was meant to speak directly to power - we do not having anything like this in our present day. Everything written that reaches power in our time has to be, by nature, a finished product.