Pillow Book, Part II

I love the things I find when searching for images. For example, 6.5 stitches (a person I "follow" on her blog / Ravelry / Flickr) has an entry regarding integrating pieces from The Pillow Book and fiber in this post, something I think Maria would enjoy. She links to this website, which I have found compelling and makes me want this Friday's plane to take me deep into the pages I've been reading.

I also love associating books with particular periods of time or geographical locations--I'll forever associate reading Daniel Quinn's Ishmael with the redwood forests of California. And now, The Pillow Book will be linked to reading by lamplight in a rainy tent while camping and reading at the kitchen table while watching rain fall on the back patio in New Jersey.

The process of reading The Pillow Book was a bit cumbersome: the main text occupies the center, followed by nearly six hundred footnotes, as well as several appendices, which contain lists and maps and the like. Some footnotes are worth the trip: I especially loved #34 for the story of the Weaver and the Herdsman and the stars in the sky, #131 which told me the mandarin duck is the traditional symbol of conjugal love, #281 which explained that "demons had straw coats that made them invisible," and on. Some of the less useful notes would direct me to moments of obviousness or perhaps would go on about the court gossip (which Meryl liked) and didn't compel me.

I read with a pen, and often I found myself writing in the margins: "vanity" or "false modesty." I imagined Shonagon as the court tease, and indeed, this culture was lenient on promiscuity, with rules about sneaking away in the dawn, with poems and puns and letters and cherry blossom branches and code. The speaker does not often show patience--making lists of hateful things, or using the word "distasteful," or reciting people behaving not according to court rules and rankings.

Sometimes we'd get narrative, realization of her voice and how she must seem: "But I really must stop writing this kind of thing. If I were still young enough, I might risk the consequence of putting down such impieties, but at my present stage of life I should be less flippant" (21. A Preacher Ought to Be Good-Looking, pg. 53). Later, in 86, she ends, "But it is most unattractive to blow my own trumpet like this" (151). I am not certain how much awareness she had of a readership, but I do know the expectation of her role as poet is high, particularly due to her family tree. How often do we wish to bury an early draft, or edit what we write in blogs / writing notebooks, thinking others may actually care, point to gaffs, stumblings? How often are we simply having conversations with ourselves?

I laughed aloud at section 27, which was titled "Trees," in which Shonagon writes, "I realize that it is not a specific tree, but I must mention the name 'parasite tree' since I find it so moving" (65). I write in the margin: "Shonagon herself a kind of parasite." This is how she lives, off the whims of those ranked above her, entertaining herself by coquetry and delight (or distaste) in the world around her.

I especially loved her lists: Elegant things (duck eggs, wisteria blossoms), Herbs and Shrubs (wood-sorrel, shepherd's purse, a lawn of grass), Poetic Subjects (arrowroot, water oats, flat river-boats), Embarrassing Things (a man recites his own poems--not especially good ones--and tells one about the praise they have received--most embarrassing), Things That Lose by Being Painted (pinks), Things That Gain by Being Painted (pines, cranes and deer), Things That Give a Clean Feeling (an earthen cup, a new metal bowl, a rush mat, the play of light), Things That Give an Unclean Feeling (white snivel, and children who sniffle as they walk), Squalid Things (the back of a piece of embroidery), etc.

Some of the values resonate: celebrating gorgeous handwriting, the pleasure of collaboration, the desire to communicate in verse, the value put on poetry memorization, the appreciation of seasons.

I am not sure if Tale of the Genji is high on my reading list, given that I suspect this first novel will reflect more of court life than observation; instead, I would like to read more early Chinese and Japanese poetry. I'd like to see what I can learn about its history; I loved what Colleen C brought to Maria's at our end-of-the-year gathering, so I'd like to read more of this economical, muscular work. I'm also curious to read more of what came before Kimiko Hahn's collection of zhuitsu, in order to more fully appreciate it.

What is everyone reading right now? Anyone care to suggest something to read collectively for July? Something you might be considering for your thesis book list but aren't sure just yet? This has eased a little of my school withdrawal. :)