I haven't had the chance to keep up with our schedule, but I'm determined to complete the book this weekend. After my second round of the flu, a rained out camping experience, and, now, daytime baby-sitting of my two nephews halfway across the country, I've mainly kept my reading restricted to escape.
Nonetheless, I have gotten through a large portion of The Pillow Book to have some concept of what is in store. Patterns have begun to emerge, and I have a few thoughts / questions for you, Meryl, and anyone else who happens upon this book and this blog at the same time:
- First, I must say, I love the idea of reading along with someone else. It forces me to look quite a bit closer, to read with a pen in hand (which I always want to do, but simultaneously feel shy about doing so--I encourage my students to write tons in their own books, to have conversations with the text, but then I don't do so myself, often because I know I'm going to end up giving the book away, but if it's to my friends, perhaps they'd be entertained at my outraged marginalia), to wonder what someone else might consider in a particular instance or moment within the narrative.
- That said, I know I need to read The Tale of the Genji. (Do I hear Genji read along...?)
- Meryl, you mentioned not being able to recall much about the above mentioned novel... I am the same with books too, even my favorites. I've begun to write a little bit after each book I read on Good Reads, partly to assert ownership over my reading experience, but also because a certain number of stars doesn't tell me the why of the experience. I love that I can't remember, in some ways, because re-reading a book that was once a favorite can be like reading it for the first time, but I must also add that I've recently begun to take fish oil to help with my memory issues. :) It goes beyond reading... (And I'm the same with movies as you, M: for instance, with the Harry Potter books, I'd forget the plot details, but as soon as a film adaptation was made, I'd recall the basic structure, which kind of ruined the tradition of re-reading the string just before the next book came out.)
- You wrote in your email about translation, how the Genet was gorgeous as a result (I agree; I don't think I would have ordinarily loved that book as much if it weren't for the talent of the translator--unless, of course, I could successfully read it in the original), and I think it's interesting to read Ivan Morris' introductory essay where he mentions adjusting the language as the repetition doesn't work as well in translation, but I kept thinking, "Oh, another delightful thing, or oh, another unpleasant thing." The language isn't singing, and with the translator introduction and notes, I get the impression that he has approached this more as a compelling historical document than a piece of poetry in prose.
- My favorites are the lists.
- I loved reading this while camping. Saturday was awful, as far as camping goes--it rained just before the sun came up and continued on through the entire day and into the night. (A little storm is one thing, but constant rain is pretty impressive!) There was a moment when Ryan was napping with the dogs in the tent, Angie had gone to seek drier ground in her shelter tent, and the two boys had gone into town in search of hot cocoa mix and mint Schnapps. I was left alone in our muddier shelter tent with the ice fishing heater (it was in the 50s, and we were all wearing these bizarre layers of clothing cobbled together from knapsacks and trunk storage), the pages of The Pillow Book damp and curling, my hands in fingerless gloves, my feet bouncing on the damp ground, and it was a perfect escape. I felt fully lost in the world of proper layered dress (plum and white), of monthly festivals, of speaking behind a screen, of lovers leaving by the moonlight, of poetry recitation.
I suppose for questions:
- Do you find the "character" of Sei Shonagon appealing? It seems strangely to judge her as if she were fictional, but thus far, she doesn't feel terribly dynamic, and part of that comes with translation, part of that comes with the function of the diary format, part of that comes with the reader-writer relationship. It seems the concerns are so overly focused on proper behavior, though I don't live in a world where proper behavior matters so much--at home, it's just me and my husband and two dogs and two cats. I just have to make sure those five are fed and walked, and we're in pretty good shape. I probably wear white after Labor Day, though, depending on laundry day status, I'm pretty careful about that whole brown-black-navy thing. But my concerns are not her concerns, and I suppose, truly, that's more of a cultural / time gap than anything else.
- As I said before, I enjoy the lists the most, particularly the ones in which Shonagon explores the natural world. This partly comes from my location while reading (camping with the rain pattering on the roof), but it's mostly because I am most interested in specificity, and to be more specific (ha.), it's the language and symbolism of the natural world that interest me the most. My question would then be: what about you? Which parts draw you in the most? (The least?)
And to all: this, of course, isn't all addressed to Meryl and if you are reading this post in the future, feel free to respond as well. I love the idea of community reading, of the conversations that follow.
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