Charm and Wit to Spare: "The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon"
Written: Jan 07 '03 (Updated Jan 08 '03)
Product Rating:
Pros: Genius Shonagon's razor wit and keen powers of observation. Ivan Morris' excellent translation and notes
Cons: None
The Bottom Line: Shonagon wrote 1000 years ago about the fascinating, hyper-aesthetic Heaian culture, but her work speaks to us with freshness and immediacy. A rare, funny, and poetic book.
trust12345's Full Review: Sei Shonagon - The Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon Boo...
The Heian period in Japan that stretched from 794 to 1185 was a source of some of the most cultivated aesthetic activity the world has seen (on a par with Ancient Greece or Renaissance Italy, for example.) Such activity was neither democratically shared— a complex social hierarchy made for a large, subservient underclass— and nor was it especially exemplified by the males, even in the higher echelons of the Heian (that is, Kyoto) aristocracy. While all upper class men were indeed expected to take part in the court-wide practices of poetry writing, calligraphy, and elegance of wardrobe choice, among other skills, the fact is they were simultaneously consumed with political efforts of self-promotion along a giant pyramid of stratified ranks. Rather, it was the women— confined to a life of leisure (undoubtedly a nicer confinement than a life of physical labor)— who had both the opportunity and systematically-bred encouragement, often indistinguishable from competition, to raise the standards of art to as high a degree of subtlety as possible. As the translator Ivan Morris, quoting an unnamed source, points out, "such overwhelming literary predominance of women is a rare, if not unique, phenomenon in [the world’s] cultural history."
At the pinnacle of artistic achievement in this period were women such as the poets Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu, the diarists Lady Sarashina, Ise, and Lady Daibu, and the prose rivals Murasaki Shikibu (c. 978- c. 1026) and Sei Shonagon (c. 966-1017). Where Murasaki detailed the romantic intrigues, daily life and culture of the Heian court in her fictional account, "The Tale of Genji" (considered history’s first psychological novel), Sei Shonagon did likewise, but in a private miscellany known as a Pillow Book. The idea of a pillow book connotes a nighttime journal for recording events, thoughts, impressions. Like Montaigne, whose Essays range over an encyclopedia of subjects always with himself at the center, her collected writings, more than any other Heian record—bring that world to life, and with such a charming and amusing voice.
Japanese literature contains a dominant strand of writing that observes nature and life with a melancholic, Zen-influenced frame of mind. Whether it is the 12th Century monk, Saigyo plaintively recording nature in his travels or the 20th Century Nobel laureate Yasanuri Kawabata depicting romantic longing and fulfillment in "Snow Country," this strand is characterized by sadness, a sense of the fleeting quality of existence— a bittersweet awareness of beautiful things that are ultimately observed by humans who are equally mortal. This is an estimable, powerful tradition, but at times it can be overwhelming in its serious, earnest take on the world and existence. How refreshing, then, to pick up a volume such as Sei Shonagon’s "The Pillow Book."
Shonagon possessed an ingenious brand of subtle humor and an extraordinary wit. Her style and life as recounted are ever light and charming, marked by great spontaneity and what the Italian courtier Castiglione prized, namely "sprezzatura"— nonchalance. Castiglione taught that things done well but that betrayed the artist’s labors were ultimately graceless, whereas an excellent act or creation done with "sprezzatura" contained the epitome of grace. Both style and content of Shonagon’s work shine with this kind of grace.
Here is an example. Shonagon describes how one day a messenger brought her a gift from Yukinari, the Controller First Secretary, namely, square cakes wrapped in a poem and attached to "a magnificent branch of plum blossom" (149). (Note: it was typical of the period to exchange poems that were prepared in elaborate presentations. Such a gift would be judged not only for the quality of the poem and the cleverness of its allusions to others, but also for its maker’s calligraphy, choices of accompanying leaf or branch, and even the gift’s aroma, as people were expected to mix various scents to make an appropriate bouquet according to the subject of the poem. Moreover, all aspects of the gift had to complement one another. This should give you an idea of how aestheticized Heian culture was.) Since the maker of Shonagon’s gift did not present it to her himself, she quickly consulted the advice of Her Majesty (whom she attended) as to how to respond. Her Majesty tells her simply to eat the cakes and offer no reply. Instead, Shonagon reports, "I took a piece of thin, bright red paper and simply wrote, 'The servant who would not present the cold cakes in person strikes me as being very cold himself.' I attached my note to a magnificent branch of red plum blossom and dispatched it." Startled by the frank and idiosyncratic response, Yukinari comes to Shonagon in person, saying: "Women who are pleased with themselves never miss an opportunity to scatter their poems in all directions. I am delighted to be on friendly terms with someone who is different." The story circulates throughout the court, and Shonagaon is praised for her wit and boldness. But Shonagon, in typically disingenuous fashion, having reported the deed, writes, "But it is most unattractive to blow my own trumpet like this."
Among the supreme charms of "The Pillow Book" are its many lists. The book as whole has no narrative, and the chronology of its sections is ultimately secondary. One can enter the book anywhere and make sense of what the author is saying, since the sections are disconnected. Here is a sampling of some of the list headings and their contents:
Under "Embarrassing Things":
* A man whom one loves gets drunk and keeps repeating himself.
* Parents, convinced that their ugly child is adorable, pet him and repeat the things he has said, imitating his voice
* Lying awake at night, one says something to one’s companion, who simply goes on snoring.
Under "Squalid Things":
* The inside of a cat’s ear.
* A swarm of mice, who still have no fur, when they come wriggling out of their nest.
* A woman who falls ill and remains unwell for a long time. In the mind of her lover, who is not particularly devoted to her, she must appear rather squalid.
Translator Ivan Morris’ superb edition is numbered in 185 sections whose average length is a single page, sometimes much less. Shonagon wrote in what was in her period considered a breezy style, with short sentences—a contrast to the often convoluted grammar of Muraski Shikibu. As such, Morris applies a similarly breezy linguistic palette to bring this English version to life. It reads with contemporary freshness and immediacy, despite the fact that Western culture now and Japanese culture of 1,000 years ago are so different as to make the gap seem dauntingly unbridgeable. Shonagon is mostly to thank, however, for the ease with which this culture can be transmitted to us. Her style is so conversational, as though she were confiding things to a circle of friends, and her character so affable and passionately singular, that she comes across as strikingly modern. The many lists have a Jerry Seinfeldesque "Ever notice how…" quality, lending the book an uncannily topical and timeless edge.
Morris provides an extremely helpful, scholarly apparatus for the text, complete with lavish endnotes on each section, a biography of Shonagon, bibliography, and appendices concerning the Heian calendar, festivals, government, geography, city and household blueprints, chronology, clothing, instruments, and so on. The only complaint I have is that an index of subjects would have helped. Otherwise, one could hardly ask for a more thorough reference section than Morris has provided.
Shonagon turned her ubiquitous gaze to things high and low, and gave her sometimes offensively aristocratic but always honest commentary on virtually everything in her surroundings. I have touched upon some of the mundane things she ranges on. But her observations can be exquisitely beautiful and touching, too. In conclusion, I leave you with some of this poetry in prose:
"In spring it is the dawn that is most beautiful. As the light creeps over the hills, their outlines are dyed a faint red and wisps of purplish cloud trail over them.
In summer the night. Not only when the moon shines, but on dark night too, as the fireflies flit to and fro, and even when it rains, how beautiful it is!
In autumn the evenings, when the glittering sun sinks close to the edge of the hills and the crows fly back to their nests in threes and fours and twos; the more charming still is a file of wild geese, like specks in the distant sky. When the sun has set, one’s heart is moved by the sound of the wind and the hum of the insects.
In winter the early mornings. It is beautiful indeed when snow has fallen during the night, but splendid too when the ground is white with frost; or even when there is no snow or frost, but it is simply very cold and the attendants hurry from room to room stirring up fires and bringing charcoal, how well this fits the season’s mood! But as noon approaches and the cold wears off, no one bothers to keep the braziers alight, and soon nothing remains but piles of white ashes"
(Page 21, translation, Ivan Morris)
* * *
(Note: You may have heard of (or even have seen) Peter Greenaway’s film, "Pillow Book." It is very loosely based on Shonagon’s book, though set in modern Japan. The film has little of Shonagon’s spirit, and is one of the director’s recent travesties of pretentious, narcissistic, cleverer-than-thou filmmaking. If you know this film, don’t let it dissuade you from the book!)
Further reading:
If one wanted to research the Heian period in greater depth, Ivan Morris’ "The World of the Shining Prince" is indispensable.
See also Murasaki Shikibu's "The Tale of Genji."
For an excellent collection of two Heian women poets, see translator Jane Hirshfield's "The Ink Dark Moon," which I have also reviewed: http://www.epinions.com/content_84239224452
The textbook, Pillow Book of Sei Shonagon, by Sei Shonagon and Translated by Ivan Morris, available in Paperback. Published by: Perseus Distribution...More at Textbooks.com
996 A.D., with later revisions. The translation of the diaries of a court lady in tenth-century Japan, it is a collection of anecdotes, memories of co...More at Buy.com Marketplaces
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