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| Ukiyo-e - woodblock print |
We had to opportunity to read a range of literary works of modern Japanese authors from the well-known Tanizaki and Murakami to the more obscure Yoshikichi Furui. Over the summer, I attempted to sate my burgeoning curiosity for what Japan was by reading the works of renown masters of modern Japanese literature. Makioka Sisters by Tanizaki, Kokoro by Soseki, as well as novels by Mishima, Kawabata, and Dazai. Even in the translated works, I could feel the subtlety in prose, repressed passion of the characters, and singularity with the natural world. I see literature as a broadening of experience, a means of peering into different worlds. I see this class as a continuation of this search, to seek the uniqueness of Japan and it's culture. I hope to be able to read these authors and their insights in the original language. It would be a great privilege for me to be able to read the syntactical, allusive, and other elements of technical deft in flowing Japanese.
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| The Makioka Sisters or Sasameyuki book cover |
Interesting! (Going to leave Japanese comments for next time).... Have you ever heard of Chris Marker's film Sans Soleil? It provides a fascinating look at Japan through film/photography and includes these really bizarre, beautiful reflections on memory, history, literature, etc.... Each of his reflections are spoken through the voice of a female narrator who begins each one with "He wrote me...." Anyway, I've posted one below for your interest, given what you write above about Japanese lit:
ReplyDeleteHe spoke to me of Sei Shonagon, a lady in waiting to Princess Sadako at the beginning of the 11th century, in the Heian period. Do we ever know where history is really made? Rulers ruled and used complicated strategies to fight one another. Real power was in the hands of a family of hereditary regents; the emperor's court had become nothing more than a place of intrigues and intellectual games. But by learning to draw a sort of melancholy comfort from the contemplation of the tiniest things this small group of idlers left a mark on Japanese sensibility much deeper than the mediocre thundering of the politicians. Shonagon had a passion for lists: the list of 'elegant things,' 'distressing things,' or even of 'things not worth doing.' One day she got the idea of drawing up a list of 'things that quicken the heart.' Not a bad criterion I realize when I'm filming; I bow to the economic miracle, but what I want to show you are the neighborhood celebrations.
He wrote me: coming back through the Chiba coast I thought of Shonagon's list, of all those signs one has only to name to quicken the heart, just name. To us, a sun is not quite a sun unless it's radiant, and a spring not quite a spring unless it is limpid. Here to place adjectives would be so rude as leaving price tags on purchases. Japanese poetry never modifies. There is a way of saying boat, rock, mist, frog, crow, hail, heron, chrysanthemum, that includes them all. Newspapers have been filled recently with the story of a man from Nagoya. The woman he loved died last year and he drowned himself in work—Japanese style—like a madman. It seems he even made an important discovery in electronics. And then in the month of May he killed himself. They say he could not stand hearing the word 'Spring.'
こんにちは、トマスさん。私はその映画をまだ見ませんでした。それは面白い映画と思います。ありがとうございます！
Deleteじゃあ、また。