(
rachelmanija Dec. 6th, 2005 11:09 am)
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In which Genji is a skank again
This chapter featured everything that most annoyed me in previous chapters: Genji is a total skank, and there are lengthy and repetitive digressions on G=P, of which this sentence is typical:
"I have drawn 'spring,'" said Genji, his voice finely resonant in even so brief a statement.
Sadly, and unlike most ancient Japanese literature I've read previously, this is not the sort of book where one can be confident that Genji will eventually either be beheaded or commit ritual suicide.
The court is celebrating again, this time for the blooming of the cherry trees. I think everyone reading this group probably already knows this, but cherry blossoms are incredibly symbolic in Japan. They bloom spectacularly and very briefly, and part of the reason the entire country still goes berserk over cherry blossom season is that the entire thing lasts only two weeks. If they bloomed longer, people would get used to having them around and it wouldn't be as special. Hence, cherry blossoms (the "sakura" of the kanji in my icon) are the principal symbol of the beauty of impermanence. (Often referred to as "mono no aware," or "the sadness of things.") Cherry blossoms were frequently used to symbolize the brief but glorious life of the samurai and, later, the kamikaze.
He [Genji] wore a robe of a thin white Chinese damask with a red lining and under it a very long train of magenta. Altogether the dashing young prince, he added something new to the assembly that so cordially received him, for the other guests were more formally clad. He quite overwhelmed the blossoms, in a sense spoiling the party, and played beautifully on several instruments.
Here and elsewhere in the chapter they are associated with Genji, who is so beautiful that people fear for his life. (His white and red robe is no doubt meant to evoke the white or pink blossoms, and the red fruit.) The fetishization in Genji of illness and sudden or premature death, which makes the ill or dying person beautiful, seems connected to this idea and also shows up in The Pillow Book.
There's an interesting moment here, in light of the discussion of the narrator of the book:
Could I see the blossom as other blossoms,
Then would there be no dew to cloud my heart."
She recited it silently to herself. How then did it go the rounds and presently reach me?
"Me" being the narrator having a bit of rather post-modern fun with the concept of "story as reality" vs. "story as constructed narrative."
After Genji wows everyone in sight at the sakura festival, he sneaks out at night to Lady Kokiden's pavilion in search of booty. He finds an open door and ravishes the woman inside, though he has no idea who she is and she won't tell him. I use the word "ravish" deliberately-- it sure sounds like rape to me, but the context is the sort of rape fantasy that used to be more common in Western romance novels as well as in the works of Anne McCaffrey. There is more discussion of this in kate_nepveu's entry on the chapter. It is unclear as yet whether the open door meant that the woman really was signaling that she wanted sex (much as sticking one's dick through a glory hole signals that one wants it sucked by whoever passes by) or whether Genji was just being a skank again.
Whichever way that went, the woman had, at best, mixed feelings about the matter, because in addition to protests that may or may not have been pro forma, she didn't tell Genji her name. Though they did exchange fans. At the end of the chapter, while skanking around Lady Kokiden's pavilion to try to figure out which of her relatives it was, he recognizes her voice. The chapter ends, quite abruptly, with that realization.
This chapter featured everything that most annoyed me in previous chapters: Genji is a total skank, and there are lengthy and repetitive digressions on G=P, of which this sentence is typical:
"I have drawn 'spring,'" said Genji, his voice finely resonant in even so brief a statement.
Sadly, and unlike most ancient Japanese literature I've read previously, this is not the sort of book where one can be confident that Genji will eventually either be beheaded or commit ritual suicide.
The court is celebrating again, this time for the blooming of the cherry trees. I think everyone reading this group probably already knows this, but cherry blossoms are incredibly symbolic in Japan. They bloom spectacularly and very briefly, and part of the reason the entire country still goes berserk over cherry blossom season is that the entire thing lasts only two weeks. If they bloomed longer, people would get used to having them around and it wouldn't be as special. Hence, cherry blossoms (the "sakura" of the kanji in my icon) are the principal symbol of the beauty of impermanence. (Often referred to as "mono no aware," or "the sadness of things.") Cherry blossoms were frequently used to symbolize the brief but glorious life of the samurai and, later, the kamikaze.
He [Genji] wore a robe of a thin white Chinese damask with a red lining and under it a very long train of magenta. Altogether the dashing young prince, he added something new to the assembly that so cordially received him, for the other guests were more formally clad. He quite overwhelmed the blossoms, in a sense spoiling the party, and played beautifully on several instruments.
Here and elsewhere in the chapter they are associated with Genji, who is so beautiful that people fear for his life. (His white and red robe is no doubt meant to evoke the white or pink blossoms, and the red fruit.) The fetishization in Genji of illness and sudden or premature death, which makes the ill or dying person beautiful, seems connected to this idea and also shows up in The Pillow Book.
There's an interesting moment here, in light of the discussion of the narrator of the book:
Could I see the blossom as other blossoms,
Then would there be no dew to cloud my heart."
She recited it silently to herself. How then did it go the rounds and presently reach me?
"Me" being the narrator having a bit of rather post-modern fun with the concept of "story as reality" vs. "story as constructed narrative."
After Genji wows everyone in sight at the sakura festival, he sneaks out at night to Lady Kokiden's pavilion in search of booty. He finds an open door and ravishes the woman inside, though he has no idea who she is and she won't tell him. I use the word "ravish" deliberately-- it sure sounds like rape to me, but the context is the sort of rape fantasy that used to be more common in Western romance novels as well as in the works of Anne McCaffrey. There is more discussion of this in kate_nepveu's entry on the chapter. It is unclear as yet whether the open door meant that the woman really was signaling that she wanted sex (much as sticking one's dick through a glory hole signals that one wants it sucked by whoever passes by) or whether Genji was just being a skank again.
Whichever way that went, the woman had, at best, mixed feelings about the matter, because in addition to protests that may or may not have been pro forma, she didn't tell Genji her name. Though they did exchange fans. At the end of the chapter, while skanking around Lady Kokiden's pavilion to try to figure out which of her relatives it was, he recognizes her voice. The chapter ends, quite abruptly, with that realization.