The World of "The Tale of Genji"

Suddenly, NHK decided to make Murasaki Shikibu the subject of a Taiga drama, and the whole world has started talking about "Genji, Genji."

However, I always feel a sense of resistance when people say things like, "'The Tale of Genji' is the greatest bestseller in the history of Japanese literature." That is incorrect.

Very few people have actually read it all the way through, haven't they? (laughs)

I often say, "In any era, the number of people who have properly read Genji is nearly zero." Everyone is surprised when I say that, but it is actually true.

It wasn't until the Edo period that "The Tale of Genji" entered the reading material of ordinary people rather than just the aristocracy. Even then, it couldn't be read in the old movable-type editions without annotations. Ultimately, until Kitamura Kigin's "Kogetsusho" was published, "The Tale of Genji" was a work that everyone knew by name but no one had actually read.

Even within Heian period literature, it is completely different from shorter works like "The Tales of Ise." It is simply massive in volume, incredibly complex and intricate, and yet every single part is written with extreme precision.

This is something that should be called a miracle in the history of world literature; at the very least, there was absolutely nothing comparable to it in the same era anywhere in the world.

As you say, I believe "The Tale of Genji" is widely known as "world literature." The first version I read was the "Tanizaki Genji" from my mother's bookshelf, and then after studying in the United States, I read the "Enchi Genji." It was wonderful. Then, during graduate school, I encountered Arthur Waley's "The Tale of Genji" (1925–33).

I was deeply moved. However, I never imagined that I would translate it myself. Decades later, I decided to take on the challenge of a "back-translation" from English into modern Japanese together with my sister (Megumi Moriyama).

It felt like encountering "Genji" all over again through English. As you know, the Waley translation was also highly praised by Masamune Hakucho.

I feel like I reunited with "Genji" through haiku. In the Juku's Japanese literature original text reading courses, we always read "Genji," but at that time, I preferred things like the "Sarashina Diary."

I continued writing haiku for a long time, but when I re-read the translation rather than the original text after a while, I discovered that "seasonal words (kigo) appear in every single chapter." That sparked my interest, and I re-read the whole thing.

As Mr. Hayashi said, very few people have read it all. It is said that the number of Japanese people who have never touched the original text of "The Tale of Genji" and the number of people who have read the entire thing in the original are about the same—very small. That is a very lamentable situation, so I sincerely hope people will experience "The Tale of Genji" in whatever form possible.

I have only ever read the original text. I know the names of the modern Japanese translations, of course, but I've only glanced at them. For example, in the "Yosano Genji," the waka poems are included, but there are no interpretations of them.

The waka in "Genji" are complex and logical with rhetorical devices like kakekotoba (puns) and engo (associated words), aren't they? So without an interpretation, general readers are left stranded.

They are used as a medium to express the characters' feelings or convey something, and yet they don't say it explicitly. In that sense, I thought it was a bit unkind not to translate those very difficult-to-understand waka at all.

That said, if there is only a modern translation, one inevitably wonders what the original poem was like. It's a difficult balance. In Ms. Mariya's translation, the original poems are properly included. Then Waley's translation appears, but reading only Waley's translation, I get a bit of a "hmm" feeling.

Yes, it's a bit unsettling. Like bush clover (hagi) becoming lilacs (laughs).

When an Englishman who knows nothing about Japan reads Waley's translation, for example, wouldn't the "court" make them imagine something like Buckingham Palace? This was intentionally translated to sound like Western scenery, wasn't it?

Yes, he was very creative with the translation.

In that sense, it was fresh. However, did Waley use "emperor" instead of "king"? When I hear "emperor," I get the feeling of a Chinese emperor. I wondered if "Mikado" shouldn't be "king"; that bothered me a little.

I think Waley thought about that carefully and translated "Mikado" as "emperor." I also used "emperor" in the back-translation.

I think "Mikado" would have been fine. Emperors are usually dictatorial or selfish. But the Japanese Mikado does not rule.

A Mikado is someone whose upbringing is different. I imagine the translation was a struggle. Even terms like "Yugei no Myobu" are translated as "the daughter of...," but I assume that's because Waley used those words (laughs). For us, we accept "Yugei no Myobu" almost like a name referring to that person.

It's fresh, but at the same time, a bit uncomfortable. But perhaps that slight sense of discomfort is exactly the point of your translation.

Exactly. I felt that if I simply reverted it back to the classical style, we wouldn't be able to feel that sense of newness from when Waley first translated it.

Still, Waley was an amazing person.

He never came to Japan and couldn't speak Japanese, so I can't help but wonder how he was able to read "Genji" to that extent. It's a mystery.

Yes, it's a very deep reading. Waley even read and translated using the "Kogetsusho."

The "Kogetsusho" had already been brought to England at that time. But the "Kogetsusho" is written in cursive kana (sogana). I don't think printed editions had reached England in Waley's time.

To begin with, modern Japanese people can hardly read texts in brush-written cursive style. But my partner, Peter Kornicki, reads it fluently. British Orientalists are on a slightly different level than what we think of as scholars; in modern terms, they are "next level" (laughs).

Waley was originally a linguistic genius who could speak over a dozen languages. He was particularly strong in Greek and Roman classics. He even translated Ainu folklore.

Wow, that's surprising.

He boasted that he could "read Japanese classics in four months," and he actually worked on waka and Noh.

Geniuses like that often appeared among the British of that era. Ernest Satow was one, and William George Aston was another. Their concept of linguistics was different from ours.

The first time I read through a translation was Mr. Hayashi's "Kinjaku Genji Monogatari." I still feel that the words of the original text carry a certain weight.

Phrases like "Sakashisama ni yukanu toshitsuki yo" (The years and months that do not go backward). I think the power is lost when such words are translated into modern prose. I truly want people to experience the original text in those passages of masterful prose.

The reason one really must read "The Tale of Genji" in the original is that, for example, the use of adjectives is extremely subtle, and a slight difference makes a huge impact.

For instance, in the "Kocho" (Butterflies) chapter, there's a part where Genji thinks it might be bad if he doesn't tell Murasaki no Ue about Tamakazura soon, and he confesses even though he wasn't asked.

Murasaki no Ue thinks, "Not again," and says something sarcastic, and it is written that she "tohohoemi tamau" (smiled slightly). This "hohoemi tamau" represents Murasaki no Ue very well. She doesn't blame him, and she doesn't cry. She says something a bit "stinging" and gives a smile.

Because Tamakazura is not someone who threatens her position, Murasaki no Ue smiles. But when it comes to Onna Sannomiya, it's not like that (laughs).

That's true.

When Genji spoke of Onna Sannomiya, what did Murasaki no Ue do? It is written, "tote, sukoshi hohoemi tamau" (and so, she smiled a little).

Oh, that's amazing.

Even with the same "hohoemi tamau," the word "sukoshi" (a little) is added. This "hohoemi" is not a grin, but a faint, cold smile expressing something like resentment. When it comes to Onna Sannomiya, it's a serious matter, so that smile becomes "sukoshi." I translated this as "she smiled chillingly."

It's that kind of nuance.

Waley doesn't translate the word "aware" with a fixed term. "Aware" can be sympathy, melancholy, sorrow, or the interjection "Oh Dear!"; they are all different.

He also uses various other words like beautiful or fascination, delicately choosing nuances.

I can really agree with Waley's attitude. The meaning of "aware" changes completely depending on the surrounding situation.

The most difficult word is "namamekashi." Dictionaries define it as "elegant," but the "nama" in "namamekashi" originally means "raw" (nama), so it refers to raw beauty—that is, unadorned beauty. For example, both Aoi no Ue and Murasaki no Ue are described with the adjective "namamekashi" when they are on their deathbeds.

In other words, when they are healthy, they are gorgeously dressed and wearing makeup, but on their deathbeds, all the vanity is stripped away and a raw human being is there. That is what is beautiful. This is the ultimate compliment for Murasaki no Ue.

However, since "namamekashi" is raw beauty, it can also be sensual. Therefore, the original text and the translated word never correspond one-to-one. You have to translate within the context.

Waley is very attentive to that point. He reads precisely and deeply, which I admired.

During the original text reading of "Genji," Professor Nobuhiko Sato often used the word "charming." At the time, I found it strange. I wondered, "Is it okay to translate it into such a loanword?"

But he said, "No, 'charming' means a charm that pulls at one's heart." I understood it later on.

I've looked at Waley's English translation, and I thought the translation was accurate. I felt he paid great attention to how the intention of the original text could be expressed in English.

Exactly. Some people say it's a free translation, but it's quite accurate.

It's very accurate, and for that reason, there are parts written in more detail and at greater length than the original.

Yes. And the waka are woven into the text in a way that's like an opera aria. Like a poetic exchange, like an opera aria, he translates it as: the two said this and that in poetry; they answered in poetry. I think readers at the time could read it without stopping.

It's a "Kinjaku" (respectful) English translation (laughs). I think that's very important. Actually, Waley's English translation wasn't the world's first, was it?

Earlier than that, there was an English translation by Suematsu Kencho, but it wasn't a complete translation; it only went up to "E-awase" (The Picture Contest). I compared them and thought Waley's was more accurate. However, Kencho's translation is easier for Japanese people to understand.

But Kencho's is also a more impressive translation than I expected.

Yes, very much so. The fact that he published it in England is amazing.

It seems Waley calls bush clover (hagi) "lilacs," but is there no bush clover in England?

Of course, there is a translation for "hagi," but Waley's translation overlays it with English literature. For example, Shakespeare, English Romantic poetry, or the Old Testament. It's a very multi-layered translation.

When you say "lilac," a poetic image springs up in the minds of British people. So when translating back into Japanese, I thought it would be more interesting to translate it directly as "lilac" instead of bush clover. I wanted to capture the feelings of the British readers of that time.

And for "moor" (wilderness), I think readers at the time would have pictured the scenery of "Wuthering Heights." We wanted to preserve that as well.

Looking at your translation, I thought that British people at the time must have read it as a story of a very exotic world centered around an emperor.

His writing follows the trend of modernist literature. It's a style like Proust's (stream of consciousness).

Are the words and sentences Waley uses what you would call the modern Japanese of that era?

Yes. I think readers of that time could read it as modern prose, much like Mr. Hayashi's "Kinyaku Genji Monogatari" (The Tale of Genji: A Respectful Translation).

"The Tale of Genji" is written so that even without a subject, you can tell who is being referred to through honorifics. However, the groundbreaking aspect of Mr. Hayashi's "Kinyaku Genji" is that he essentially eliminated honorifics so it could be read like a modern novel.

Waley's English is also very elegant. The dialogue uses words like "would" and "may have," politely reflecting class consciousness. Terms like "Sir" and "Your Majesty" also appear frequently.

While it has been lost in American English, British people still have a sense of humility.

That's why I think Waley's English wouldn't have been fully understood by the common people of Britain at the time. It really required someone of an Oxbridge-educated level.

That is exactly right.

In that sense, the Heian period aristocracy—from the Imperial family to the regents, middle-class nobles, lower-class nobles, and local powerful clans—all used different language depending on their class.

Through subtle nuances in language, "The Tale of Genji" makes it clear when "this person is vulgar." That's why I also deliberately use vulgar language in certain parts of my translation.

Murasaki Shikibu is truly wonderful in that regard. She is able to properly write the speech of lower-class people as well.

Like in the "Yugao" chapter (laughs).

Exactly. It's written as if she had seen it herself.

In Western literature, such as Greek classics or the Bible, there is a rhetoric of skillfully weaving in words and elements from the so-called classics. I suspect Waley's translation makes great use of that. I believe there is a parallel there with how "The Tale of Genji" skillfully weaves in Waka poetry and Chinese literature.

You are absolutely right. Murasaki Shikibu quotes many works like "The Song of Everlasting Regret." Waley also loved Bai Juyi and even wrote a biography of him, so that is woven in, giving it a high level of prestige.

I think the reason "The Tale of Genji" never became a Taiga drama before is that it was a world one shouldn't touch. In this current Taiga drama, the protagonist is Murasaki Shikibu. I thought, "They really thought this through."

I'm often asked, "If it were made into a drama, who do you think should play Genji?" and I say, "No matter who does it, it won't work."

Ah, certainly (laughs).

If someone asked me to make it into a movie, I'd say, "Genji won't show his face until the very end. I might show his back, though."

Waley translated Hikaru Genji as "Shining one" or "Shining prince," and for the first time I thought, "Oh, Hikaru Genji was actually glowing." Until then, I felt it was like a common noun, but when I thought of him as a "shining person," he seemed like a being close to a god. Like Zeus in mythology.

Exactly.

So, as you said, I think it's better not to show his face.

A real-life man couldn't fully portray him. Rather, a Takarazuka male-role actress might actually be more acceptable.

But I caught a glimpse of Yuki Amami playing Hikaru Genji, and I wasn't very impressed. Over the years, Kazuo Hasegawa and Juzo Itami have also played him, but it was nothing but creepy (laughs).

"The Tale of Genji," especially in the beginning, uses Hikaru Genji as a narrator/facilitator, and it's actually a novel that depicts the charms of various women. Perhaps Michinaga told Murasaki Shikibu about his failures from his youth (laughs).

People in the position of ladies-in-waiting must have heard various rumors from their predecessors and had poignant experiences of the world of bullying they saw and heard firsthand.

"Hikaru Genji" means a noble who is the son of an Emperor and is "shining." However, the meaning of "shining" is vague. While the hearts of the women involved with him are written very skillfully and deeply, at least in the first part, Genji's own heart is not pursued that deeply.

That's why Genji's attitude differs depending on the time and the person; he can be surprisingly cold to some. However, from the "Wakana" chapter in the latter half, Genji suddenly increases his presence as a "nasty man."

Reading it as a woman, there are parts of the various struggles and values of the women that even we today can empathize with.

Like Asagao's attitude of sticking to a spiritual love because she doesn't want to be just one of many. Or like Utsusemi, who is remembered forever because she managed to escape. Yugao is special, but he captivates her, she dies just like that, and then the connection flows to Tamakazura later, doesn't it?

I think the reason it continues to be read is that even for us modern readers, the depiction of a woman's heart is so well done.

Professor Nobuhiko Sato once said, "Read 'Genji' starting from the Wakana chapter." From around there, Genji's anguish and growth as a man are depicted, aren't they?

It's understandable why he'd say that, but if you start reading from Wakana, you probably won't understand what's going on.

Yes, you probably wouldn't.

In fact, the parts up to "Fuji no Uraba" are a collection of short stories. But from Wakana onwards, it becomes one large story with many ups and downs.

In that sense, as dramaturgy, it is of a very high caliber. That naive boy who missed his mother, after returning from Suma, makes a comeback and rises to the rank of Associate Retired Emperor. And then his "spiteful" treatment of Kashiwagi—even reading it as a man, I think, "That's terrible" (laughs).

From a male perspective, is Hikaru Genji an attractive man?

No, I don't know. In what way he is attractive. I do think I'd like to be like him, though (laughs).

Oh, is that so?

Because Genji's charm is, in a sense, something projected onto the women. I think no one can easily become Genji. For example, with Oborozukiyo, he suddenly drags her into a room and says, "It's no use making a fuss. It's been decided that I can do whatever I want." If you said that now, you'd be arrested (laughs).

He's quite conceited, isn't he (laughs).

But when Genji says things like that, it makes you think, "He's hopeless, this guy."

However, when it comes to the agonizing Genji of the latter half, no matter how much power or anything else a person has, human suffering only deepens because of it.

While having a wonderful woman like Murasaki no Ue, having to welcome Onna Sannomiya is Murasaki no Ue's anguish, but Genji is also suffering greatly. But he has to listen to what Suzaku-in says, and he absolutely had to visit for the first three days, so Genji must have visited while feeling flustered.

No, no, I think there was an ulterior motive there too—he wanted to confirm the image of his eternal lover, Fujitsubo. Though he was betrayed in that. Don't you think so?

Regarding Onna Sannomiya, I don't feel that so much. Onna Sannomiya is written rather negatively in the story.

Even in that scene of the glimpse during the kemari game, she is chased by a male cat in heat, and the cat pulls the bamboo blind. Then Onna Sannomiya was seen there, which means she was watching from the veranda room. That would be absolutely impossible for Murasaki no Ue.

That's true. Professor Sato also mentioned that. A princess raised in the inner chambers would never be standing in a place where she could be seen just because a blind was rolled up.

Deep in Hikaru Genji's heart, I wonder if there was another thing—he wanted to confirm if he still had his charm as a man.

There is that. But it's clear that Murasaki no Ue is a substitute for Fujitsubo, and Fujitsubo herself is a substitute for Kiritsubo no Koi. So it all goes back to a longing for his mother. In that sense, Genji actually wished Onna Sannomiya would become his son's bride instead.

However, because of her rank, he had to welcome her as his primary wife, and that was the beginning of Murasaki no Ue's suffering.

It was a great suffering; just when she thought everything would be fine, Onna Sannomiya arrives like an unreasonable intrusion. This was a massive shock.

Like a disaster that fell from the sky.

But Onna Sannomiya was not loved by Genji and ended up giving birth to an illegitimate child after accepting Kashiwagi's love. This is certainly karmic retribution for Fujitsubo giving birth to an illegitimate child.

Certainly, before seeing her, there might have been a little expectation. But after seeing Onna Sannomiya's attitude after she actually married in, he was as disappointed as he had been expectant. And at the dawn of the third day of disappointment, he has a dream of Murasaki no Ue and hurries back. That too is a very skillful way of writing.

Yes. And the part you mentioned earlier about the cat being chased and pulling the blind—in terms of seasonal words, it makes one think, "Ah, this is a cat's love."

Murasaki Shikibu is someone who sees deep into the human heart, but she also sees the state of nature completely. Whether it's animals or plants, because her observational eye is so wonderful, she weaves descriptions of the seasons into the love story like background music. I think this is a characteristic of Japanese literature.

That's right. For example, after a love scene reaches a deadlock and there's no way out, the camera suddenly pans to the scenery outside the window. That depiction is truly beautiful. I think this is the peerless excellence of "The Tale of Genji."

Even the sound of insects, like how they started chirping "as if they knew the occasion."

At Nonomiya.

Yes, the Nonomiya passage is truly wonderful.

That scene is perfect no matter how many dozens of times you read it. Moreover, the passage of time—when he arrives it's the evening moon, then the moon reaches its zenith, and gradually it tilts to the west and he returns by the dawn moon.

I met Professor Donald Keene only once. He encountered Japanese literature through "Waley's Genji," and when I asked him, "Which part do you like best?" he said the parting scene at Nonomiya.

That is indeed a famous scene.

Also, after the death of Kiritsubo no Koi, around the time of the evening moon when a storm-like wind was blowing, the Emperor sends the Myobu of the Quiver Bearers. And the end is "The moon has also set."

He sends the messenger just as the evening moon has risen, asks "How are they doing?" and the Emperor waits until she returns. Then when he asks "How was it?" she reports, "I received this reply." And then, "The moon has also set."

The passage of time is told in just one line; I thought, this is truly great literature.

Yugao doesn't have much of a connection to the Fujitsubo lineage, but she is an utterly "rauta-ki" (lovely/endearing) person. She is just so cute and delicate, with an indescribable, bewitching charm. Consequently, Genji becomes completely infatuated with that frail femininity. But then she dies almost immediately.

Then, a longing for Yugao emerges. In other words, because Yugao died in the blink of an eye just like his mother, he is looking for another woman like her when Suetsumuhana appears. The contrast is stark.

There is a scene where Genji takes her to a certain villa and raises the shutters (shitomi) with his own hands the next morning. A similar scene occurs at Suetsumuhana's Hitachi-no-Miya residence, where raising the shutters reveals a desolate, overgrown garden.

The line "Please, look" is also the same. In other words, this writing style shows that while he expected Suetsumuhana to be a substitute for Yugao, she turned out to be the exact opposite. It is extremely skillful dramatic construction.

When you read about Suetsumuhana in the "Waley Genji," she is tall, fair-skinned, has a high forehead, and is thin. She starts to look like a beautiful woman with a modern model's physique.

I see (laughs).

Since Japan was interacting with the kingdom of Balhae on the continent at the time, I imagine she might have had Balhae blood. Suetsumuhana starts to look like a completely different person.

I think Suetsumuhana represents Iwanaga-hime. And Murasaki no Ue is Konohanasakuya-hime. That myth is also very well-constructed: when Ninigi-no-Mikoto asked Oyamatsumi-no-Mikoto for Konohanasakuya-hime, the father gave him both as a set. But Iwanaga-hime had a torso that was too long and was very bony.

That is exactly Suetsumuhana. He accepts Sakuya-hime but sends Iwanaga-hime back, saying he doesn't want her.

Men all prefer the beautiful one, don't they? (laughs). Suetsumuhana waits forever. She is very patient.

Even when that aunt comes to take her away, she won't listen, will she?

Right. She's stubborn, just like Iwanaga-hime. But Hikaru Genji, unlike Ninigi-no-Mikoto, takes care of her for a long time. So he is an ideal man; in reality, such a man doesn't exist.

He doesn't (laughs). That's why Hikaru Genji is like a dream-like existence.

Waley used a passage from "Sleeping Beauty" on the frontispiece: "Prince, I have waited for you a long time." I think Waley took pride in finally awakening a story that had been sleeping for 900 years and turning it into "world literature."

I see, the story itself becomes the Sleeping Beauty. Europeans were astonished to learn that this was written 900 years ago.

Yes, one marveling review after another appeared in the quality papers. Young British literary enthusiasts were obsessed; it was said to be an intense aesthetic experience.

Moreover, it wasn't something like a myth, but a work that depicts the folds of the human heart in minute detail.

Exactly. Everyone was shocked that a female writer from a small country like Japan had written something of this caliber hundreds of years before the psychological novel was born in Europe.

It became a bestseller—among intellectuals, of course. It went through many editions, selling something like 7,000 copies within that year. Reviews in top-tier newspapers praised it to the skies, calling it a masterpiece of world literature. I believe this was its debut into world literature.

It became world literature thanks to the "Waley Genji."

Yes, he was the one who sowed the great seeds. Now, for English versions, there is the Seidensticker translation from the 70s, followed by the Royall Tyler translation, and the Dennis Washburn translation—there are four individual translations.

How many languages is it translated into now?

I've heard it's translated into 32 or 33 languages.

In France, a complete individual translation by René Sieffert came out around 1980 and is highly regarded. Currently, a research team from INALCO (National Institute for Oriental Languages and Civilizations) and Paris Diderot University is working on a translation based on meticulous research, but at the current pace, it's said it will take 150 years.

I once visited a French lady's home because they were holding a haiku gathering in French. In that house, there was a thick, beautiful illustrated book of "The Tale of Genji."

Even if it's not a proper word-for-word translation, people interested in Japanese literature own such books. And the illustrations are wonderful, aren't they? It seems to have spread quite widely in a form where people enjoy the art along with the story.

I believe a "Tale of Genji Exhibition" is being held at the Guimet National Museum of Asian Arts in Paris.

Mutsuo Takahashi mentioned he was going there next year to talk about "The Tale of Genji." The brothers Itaro and Yasujiro Yamaguchi from Kyoto created the "Genji Monogatari Emaki" (The Tale of Genji Scrolls) in textiles and donated them to the Guimet Museum.

It was winter when he abducted Murasaki no Ue, wasn't it? Hail was falling, and Murasaki no Ue was so cold and lonely she had goosebumps. Seeing that, Hikaru Genji's paternal instinct was stimulated, and thinking, "Oh, I must warm this child," he carried her away, cradling her in his robes. In that sense, the seasonal background is very well calculated.

The descriptions of nature and the seasons are wonderful.

Japanese people live within the cycle of the seasons. Various life memories are very closely tied to seasonal sights, like "Ah, I watched the moon with that person at that place then," "It was snowing then," or "The cherry blossoms were beautiful."

I'm a little worried about whether this sensitivity to the seasons can be understood by people abroad.

That's true. But even if it's different from Japan, there is a sense of the seasons abroad as well.

However, for people walking with camels in the Arabian desert, the humid "samidare" (early summer rain) of Japan's rainy season... they might not understand that.

Like the "Rainy Night's Appraisal of Rank" (Amayo no Shinabume).

They probably wouldn't understand that at all.

Waley translates it as "rainy night’s conversation."

With "rainy night’s conversation," a British person would likely imagine the feeling of autumn to late autumn. Because May and June, the rainy season in Japan, is the time of the best weather in Britain—crisp and dry.

I suspect Waley found that quite troublesome too (laughs).

Moreover, during the samidare rains, it was a time when even the Emperor was not supposed to meet his lover.

Yes, because it was a period of "monoimi" (ritual abstinence).

When I'm asked "What is Japanese literature?", I always answer, "The four seasons and love." Moreover, within those four seasons, there are love poems. And love poems always include the seasons.

That is quite different from Western literature. In fact, I didn't understand the British climate until I lived in Britain.

For example, the word "flood." In Japan, a flood is a disaster where muddy water comes rushing in due to a typhoon or something, and everyone is submerged. But for people in England, a "flood" is something completely different.

Because Britain is a very flat country, unlike Japan, the rivers don't flow rapidly. When it rains heavily in a flat area where water collects, the water level just rises steadily and quietly, and everything around becomes waterlogged. That is a flood.

So I think translating "flood" as "kozui" (deluge/torrential flood) is a mistake.

As you say, Waley translates the flood at Suma not as "flood" but as "deluge." I think that comes from "Noah's Ark" in the Old Testament.

Impressive, I see.

I think British readers of the time would have gotten it immediately. He translates it so that the scenery of Suma and Akashi overlaps with the state of Noah's Ark.

A storm as a catastrophic, destructive force.

Yes, a mythical flood. And then a messenger arrives from Akashi.

Also, the names of British plants are linked to pastoralism. Wild carrot is "cow parsley," shepherd's purse is "shepherd’s purse," and so on. The names of things are all entwined with the climate and history of that country.

That's right. Waley also uses words like "herb" and "hemlock." He changes them to words with cultural backgrounds that British people of the time would understand, and I think that's correct.

When I read your translation, Mariya-san, it feels exactly like Britain in that era. At first, I wondered what the point was in translating Waley's English translation back into Japanese. But if Waley's translation is a global achievement, it's a bit of a shame if we can't read it smoothly.

Yes, it's a waste for only Japanese people not to know it. I wanted to convey the "Waley Genji" specifically to Japanese people who know "The Tale of Genji" well.

Genji cries often, doesn't he? When Yugao dies suddenly, he's crying so hard he almost falls off his horse. Did the value that men shouldn't cry only start in the age of the samurai?

That's right. After all, the conditions for a "good man" in Japan are the opposite of Higekuro. Being muscular and having thick body hair is nothing but uncouth. Fair skin, fine bones, delicate skin, and weeping—this has been the archetype of a handsome man since "The Tales of Ise." That might be something Westerners cannot understand.

Basho also cries ten times in "The Narrow Road to the Deep North." That lineage has existed since the time of Hikaru Genji. He even says, "I shed tears until time passed," meaning he cried for two hours (laughs).

Men cry just like women. Masculinity is not non-femininity; the Japanese style is that when masculinity reaches its peak, it approaches femininity. That's why the expression "I wish to see him as a woman" (onna ni shite mimahoshi) frequently appears in "Genji."

It does.

It means it's a waste for an extremely handsome person to be a man. It's a way of saying one would like to see them as a woman. This was the standard of a handsome man at the time. The exact opposite is that Higekuro. From a woman's perspective, Higekuro is the least attractive man, an uncouth fellow.

He doesn't understand a woman's heart either.

He doesn't. I believe Murasaki no Ue is consoled by the fact that Tamakazura is taken by such a fellow.

Murasaki Shikibu is great, isn't she, for including things like that.

"Uji Jujo" (The Uji Chapters) might have various opinions surrounding it, but it is quite interesting.

Waley liked the Uji Chapters. He considered them a masterpiece that came closest to the modern novel.

I think that is correct. If the main story is a high-quality literary epic film, the Uji Chapters feel like a high-end TV drama. The internal family circumstances of Ukifune's stepfather, Hitachi-no-Suke, are exactly like a modern drama, aren't they? However, in terms of depth, I still feel the main story is deeper.

I see.

Also, the Uji Chapters have more eroticism, don't they? With Niou-no-Miya abducting Ukifune.

Yes, carrying her in his arms onto a boat. It's like "Winter Sonata" (laughs). And Oigimi refuses him until the very end. That's Alissa from "Strait Is the Gate." It's amazing how she could write psychological states that even modern people can understand.

Do you think the same person wrote them?

I think they are different. This is a problem that can never be truly resolved, though. However, the vocabulary is quite different. Words that never appear in the main story suddenly show up. I also think the sentences are becoming shorter.

I feel that Murasaki Shikibu wrote them in her later years. Professor Sadakazu Fujii says that since Murasaki Shikibu had been writing since she was about 15 and was already in her 50s, it's natural that her style would have changed.

But reading it from a writer's perspective, how should I put it... I feel a difference in the "brush intent" (hitsui).

That's interesting. I think those who have read word by word, like the two of you, can understand such things. Hearing this makes me want to read it again. There really are various discoveries to be made depending on one's life experience.

That's true. I wonder how we can get everyone to read it.

It will be fine. We have the Taiga drama.

Well, since Hikaru Genji doesn't appear, my mind is at peace (laughs).

It's also good that "The Tale of Genji" has no battle scenes.

It's a story where you don't see blood. There is only one place in "Genji" where blood appears. Menstruation is mentioned in the Uji Chapters.

A peaceful Taiga drama is very welcome.