What I did all last year
Jul. 24th, 2002 08:41 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maribouHey. Here's one of my papers from school ... several more will no doubt follow in the next couple months. This one is about Heian Japan, kinda sorta, so I thought I'd start with it. This is how it was when I turned it in, I haven't taken my prof's comments into consideration even though I agree with several of them. All contents copyright me, in eternity, blah blah blah, don't plagiarize it's bad for you. Comments welcome, as always.
Oh, and I cut out the footnotes because all the quotes are from the one book... but if you want citations I could give them to you. The publishing info for the book in question is in the bibliography at the end. Boy, I'm stalling, aren't I?
Kagero Nikki, or The Gossamer Years, is the haunting autobiographical record of a minor Heian noblewoman, second wife of a Fujiwara prince, whose name has been lost to history. She remains known to modern readers only as "the mother of Michitsuna." The author's indefinite identity stands in sharp contrast to the strong feelings and comprehensive self-characterization evident in her work. In the Kagero Nikki, the mother of Michitsuna strives to combat her frequent "gloom at the transience of things" by shaping the narrative of her own life. She indulges herself by recreating past moments of happiness and brief escape from tribulation. She presents an interpretation of her failed relationship with her husband, Prince Kaneie, in which she fiercely refuses to accept sole responsibility for its failure. She lovingly details the successes and concerns of her son, Michitsuna, allowing the consolations of her importance as his mother to soothe the sting of husbandly neglect. In these three ways, she buttresses herself against the twin assaults of unhappy events and her own doleful nature.
Among the recurring themes of the Kagero Nikki is the author's delight in expeditions. She flees to the country for a prayer retreat several times during the course of her story. Her pleasure in these trips derives in equal parts from her escape from the painful daily routine of a neglected second wife, and from the natural beauty of the countryside. Her love of nature is evident in her glowing descriptions of the outdoors, so different from the dreary tales she spins of everyday life. Of one lovely roadside spot, she recalls, "The river roared and plunged along its rocky bed, and the leaves of the trees glowed through the banks of spray with varying suggestions of autumn color, deeply effective in the slanting light of the late-afternoon sun ... I was so moved that I raised the blind and drew aside the curtains for a better view." Her sense of escape suggests itself poignantly as she muses, "It was perhaps because I was traveling alone that I was so taken with everything along the way." Of a later trip, she reports, "It was as if we were cleanly shut off from the city, and I felt a strong sense of release ... it was almost as if I had been reborn into a different world." While she meticulously records the details of one of her retreats, she is able to inhabit those days again in memory. In crafting travel narratives out of her journeys, the author allows herself to return to the road, and gives herself brief respites from the unpleasant focus of her tale, the strained relationship between herself and Kaneie.
While recalling the dramatic arguments and long silences that typify her marital relationship is unquestionably a source of pain for the mother of Michitsuna, it is also a source of self-vindication. She faithfully enumerates the days which he allows to pass between his visits. Of the most painful such separation, she notes, "counting back I found that he had not visited me in the evening for more than thirty days, and in the daytime for more than forty." The reader might argue that this neglect has causes other than the caddishness of the author's husband. After all, he is an important government official, she is not his primary wife, and she has a perverse tendency to refuse to see him on those rare occasions when he does present himself. Kaneie himself shrugs off any blame for his extended absences and frequently surly behavior, resorting to flippant excuses and arch accusations such as, "Your letter indicates that you may be losing control of yourself ... I wonder if it might not be the result of that constant praying." However, the author stridently refutes any suggestion that she is solely to blame.
In retaliation for Kaneie's constant slights and peevish jabs, she is scathing in her depiction of his behavior. She subjects his every action (and inaction) to analysis and criticism. The mother of Michitsuna makes a concerted effort to convince the reader that Kaneie's protestations of innocence merely conceal a callous nature, as described in one particularly telling scene: "I was sure that I would not see him [after his absence at New Year's], but presently he appeared, cool and nonchalant as ever. His playful manner I found most irritating, and before I knew it I had begun pouring out all the resentment I had stored up through the months. He said not a word, pretending to be asleep, and after I had gone on for a time he started up and exclaimed, 'What's this? Have you gone to bed already?' " An important and respected man Kaneie may be, but a good husband he is not, and the author builds her case against him failed visit by failed visit, imperious demand by imperious demand.
Why does the mother of Michitsuna allow the father of Michitsuna so much power in her life? While it may be true that the mores of the author's time and place are not supportive of a woman acting independently, that is not a sufficient explanation. After all, she herself recognizes that, "I have been subjected to this because I have allowed myself to be kept here," admitting her own complicity in her unhappiness. The mother of Michitsuna accepts her lot because she cares very much about the success of her son. In order for him to thrive amidst the intricate machinations of elite Heian society, he needs the powerful protection of his father. Kaneie uses his wife's concern for Michitsuna to manipulate her into returning to him on at least one occasion. First, he insists that the boy remain with his mother, not accepting her plan to send her son back to the city alone. Then, he uses Michitsuna's isolation as a key weapon in his arsenal of rebukes. "But think of the boy," he chides her. "You have dragged him off against his will, and he is the saddest victim of the whole affair."
Despite his use as a pawn in the battle for control between his parents, Michitsuna's effect on his mother is not only negative. At her most dejected, the author reflects, "I thought it might be just as well if I were to die. I would not have the slightest regret for my life. But then I thought of what might happen to my son ..." Michitsuna gives his mother a reason to persist; by living vicariously through him, she can resist the dark temptation of apathy. When her son first receives favor at court, the author is thrilled: "I wondered how the boy would acquit himself, but late that night he was escorted home in triumph ... And even I, despondent though I usually am, was swept up in the happiness of the occasion."
As Michitsuna matures, his mother proudly records each of his accomplishments and frets over each of his difficulties. When he develops the desire to marry a young woman from Yamato, the author writes down the contents and style of each note sent between the two young people, interweaving Michitsuna's unsuccessful efforts to court his desired wife with her own efforts at marital reconciliation. This intermingling of the two sets of correspondence subtly demonstrates the author's identification with her son; however, she expects a bright future for him, in contrast with her own dreary life.
Through her immersion in her son's hopes and concerns, the mother of Michitsuna is able to remain interested in her future. Through her written rebuttals of Kaneie's rejection, she is able to reclaim her past. Through her recreations of past travels, she is able to transcend the dreariness of her present. The creation of the Kagero Nikki represents the mother of Michitsuna's authorial triumph over her sense of helplessness in the face of transient experience. Surely, it would please this author that her autobiography, which she describes as "a shimmering of the summer sky," has proven to be not a fleeting and impermanent impression, but an enduring classic.
Bibliography
The Gossamer Years: The Diary of a Noblewoman of Heian Japan. Translated by Edward Seidensticker. Boston: Tuttle Publishing Company, 2001.
Oh, and I cut out the footnotes because all the quotes are from the one book... but if you want citations I could give them to you. The publishing info for the book in question is in the bibliography at the end. Boy, I'm stalling, aren't I?
Kagero Nikki, or The Gossamer Years, is the haunting autobiographical record of a minor Heian noblewoman, second wife of a Fujiwara prince, whose name has been lost to history. She remains known to modern readers only as "the mother of Michitsuna." The author's indefinite identity stands in sharp contrast to the strong feelings and comprehensive self-characterization evident in her work. In the Kagero Nikki, the mother of Michitsuna strives to combat her frequent "gloom at the transience of things" by shaping the narrative of her own life. She indulges herself by recreating past moments of happiness and brief escape from tribulation. She presents an interpretation of her failed relationship with her husband, Prince Kaneie, in which she fiercely refuses to accept sole responsibility for its failure. She lovingly details the successes and concerns of her son, Michitsuna, allowing the consolations of her importance as his mother to soothe the sting of husbandly neglect. In these three ways, she buttresses herself against the twin assaults of unhappy events and her own doleful nature.
Among the recurring themes of the Kagero Nikki is the author's delight in expeditions. She flees to the country for a prayer retreat several times during the course of her story. Her pleasure in these trips derives in equal parts from her escape from the painful daily routine of a neglected second wife, and from the natural beauty of the countryside. Her love of nature is evident in her glowing descriptions of the outdoors, so different from the dreary tales she spins of everyday life. Of one lovely roadside spot, she recalls, "The river roared and plunged along its rocky bed, and the leaves of the trees glowed through the banks of spray with varying suggestions of autumn color, deeply effective in the slanting light of the late-afternoon sun ... I was so moved that I raised the blind and drew aside the curtains for a better view." Her sense of escape suggests itself poignantly as she muses, "It was perhaps because I was traveling alone that I was so taken with everything along the way." Of a later trip, she reports, "It was as if we were cleanly shut off from the city, and I felt a strong sense of release ... it was almost as if I had been reborn into a different world." While she meticulously records the details of one of her retreats, she is able to inhabit those days again in memory. In crafting travel narratives out of her journeys, the author allows herself to return to the road, and gives herself brief respites from the unpleasant focus of her tale, the strained relationship between herself and Kaneie.
While recalling the dramatic arguments and long silences that typify her marital relationship is unquestionably a source of pain for the mother of Michitsuna, it is also a source of self-vindication. She faithfully enumerates the days which he allows to pass between his visits. Of the most painful such separation, she notes, "counting back I found that he had not visited me in the evening for more than thirty days, and in the daytime for more than forty." The reader might argue that this neglect has causes other than the caddishness of the author's husband. After all, he is an important government official, she is not his primary wife, and she has a perverse tendency to refuse to see him on those rare occasions when he does present himself. Kaneie himself shrugs off any blame for his extended absences and frequently surly behavior, resorting to flippant excuses and arch accusations such as, "Your letter indicates that you may be losing control of yourself ... I wonder if it might not be the result of that constant praying." However, the author stridently refutes any suggestion that she is solely to blame.
In retaliation for Kaneie's constant slights and peevish jabs, she is scathing in her depiction of his behavior. She subjects his every action (and inaction) to analysis and criticism. The mother of Michitsuna makes a concerted effort to convince the reader that Kaneie's protestations of innocence merely conceal a callous nature, as described in one particularly telling scene: "I was sure that I would not see him [after his absence at New Year's], but presently he appeared, cool and nonchalant as ever. His playful manner I found most irritating, and before I knew it I had begun pouring out all the resentment I had stored up through the months. He said not a word, pretending to be asleep, and after I had gone on for a time he started up and exclaimed, 'What's this? Have you gone to bed already?' " An important and respected man Kaneie may be, but a good husband he is not, and the author builds her case against him failed visit by failed visit, imperious demand by imperious demand.
Why does the mother of Michitsuna allow the father of Michitsuna so much power in her life? While it may be true that the mores of the author's time and place are not supportive of a woman acting independently, that is not a sufficient explanation. After all, she herself recognizes that, "I have been subjected to this because I have allowed myself to be kept here," admitting her own complicity in her unhappiness. The mother of Michitsuna accepts her lot because she cares very much about the success of her son. In order for him to thrive amidst the intricate machinations of elite Heian society, he needs the powerful protection of his father. Kaneie uses his wife's concern for Michitsuna to manipulate her into returning to him on at least one occasion. First, he insists that the boy remain with his mother, not accepting her plan to send her son back to the city alone. Then, he uses Michitsuna's isolation as a key weapon in his arsenal of rebukes. "But think of the boy," he chides her. "You have dragged him off against his will, and he is the saddest victim of the whole affair."
Despite his use as a pawn in the battle for control between his parents, Michitsuna's effect on his mother is not only negative. At her most dejected, the author reflects, "I thought it might be just as well if I were to die. I would not have the slightest regret for my life. But then I thought of what might happen to my son ..." Michitsuna gives his mother a reason to persist; by living vicariously through him, she can resist the dark temptation of apathy. When her son first receives favor at court, the author is thrilled: "I wondered how the boy would acquit himself, but late that night he was escorted home in triumph ... And even I, despondent though I usually am, was swept up in the happiness of the occasion."
As Michitsuna matures, his mother proudly records each of his accomplishments and frets over each of his difficulties. When he develops the desire to marry a young woman from Yamato, the author writes down the contents and style of each note sent between the two young people, interweaving Michitsuna's unsuccessful efforts to court his desired wife with her own efforts at marital reconciliation. This intermingling of the two sets of correspondence subtly demonstrates the author's identification with her son; however, she expects a bright future for him, in contrast with her own dreary life.
Through her immersion in her son's hopes and concerns, the mother of Michitsuna is able to remain interested in her future. Through her written rebuttals of Kaneie's rejection, she is able to reclaim her past. Through her recreations of past travels, she is able to transcend the dreariness of her present. The creation of the Kagero Nikki represents the mother of Michitsuna's authorial triumph over her sense of helplessness in the face of transient experience. Surely, it would please this author that her autobiography, which she describes as "a shimmering of the summer sky," has proven to be not a fleeting and impermanent impression, but an enduring classic.
Bibliography
The Gossamer Years: The Diary of a Noblewoman of Heian Japan. Translated by Edward Seidensticker. Boston: Tuttle Publishing Company, 2001.
