Category: links

There’s a Michael Dirda essay on the newest translation of one of the great early social satires.

In what is called her Pillow Book — Makura no Soshi — Sei Shonagon celebrates the highly refined and ordered world of the imperial court, in particular what Arthur Waley once called “its rampant aestheticism and sophisticated unmorality.” In lists, mini-essays on love and life, descriptions of rainstorms and religious ceremonies, portraits of witty courtiers and their even more witty ladies, in romantic anecdotes and fragments of short stories and in her own occasional personal confessions, Sei jots down anything and everything that catches her attention. The result is a virtually unique book — a mixture of diary, aide-memoire, naturalist’s journal, gossip column and oral history. It is an early form of what the Japanese call zuihitsu, meaning occasional writings or random notes. At its heart, Makura no Soshi simply records quite ordinary things, memorializing in its darting, quicksilver fashion the wonderful dailiness of life.

He goes on to discuss the book in more detail, and ends up discussing the history of the translations:

As with The Tale of Genji, there are currently three important English versions of The Pillow Book. In 1928 Arthur Waley published a slender volume that mixes in his own commentary with a translation of about a quarter of the original text. In some ways, his is the most appealing version for the general reader: Waley writes beautifully and he emphasizes the best passage of Sei. The most scholarly translation is that by Ivan Morris, first published in 1967, in two volumes, the second being entirely devoted to notes and appendices. Morris’s text generally feels more careful and punctilious, sometimes even academic, as one might expect of a contribution to the Columbia College Program of Translations from the Oriental Classics. But Morris certainly knows Heian literature, as he is also the author of The World of the Shining Prince, the best popular account of “Court Life in Ancient Japan”; it is an absolutely enthralling work of cultural history.

The newest translation of The Pillow Book is Meredith McKinney’s recent Penguin, which uses an alternate base text to that chosen by Morris and gives Sei a more modern, colloquial voice. It also provides excellent maps, glossaries, and notes. This is now the obvious edition for anyone wishing to read the text in its entirety and is the one I quote from. Yet none of the three translators holds an absolute monopoly for the passionate admirer of Sei’s work. Consider that among “Things that make you feel nostalgic,” McKinney includes this item: “On a rainy day when time hangs heavy, searching out an old letter that touched you deeply at the time you received it.” But here is Morris: “It is a rainy day and one is feeling bored. To pass the time, one starts looking through some old papers. And then one comes across the letters of a man one used to love.” The McKinney version is doubtless accurate in its succinctness and may even reflect a slightly different original text, but Morris’s words catch us by the heart.

I’m pretty sure that the Genji translations he’s referring to are the Waley, Seidensticker, and Tyler editions. The McCullough translation of the Pillow Book that we’ll be reading doesn’t include that passage, so I can’t compare it directly, but if McKinney’s version is “doubtless accurate” then Morris’ translation includes interpolations that alter the meaning. Not unusual for older translations, but as an historian (rather than a literateur) I prefer accuracy to imposed emotion.