brought to you by a busily packing procrastinator
I've been reading Hiroaki Sato's Legends of the Samurai, which is basically a whole bunch of translated excerpts from various Japanese histories / legendary compendiums and suchlike. I wonder sometimes if I'm being hopelessly Orientalist and exoticizing these anecdotes all crazy-like, since I obviously don't quite get the culture (does anyone in America really get Japanese culture? -- I know lots of Japanophiles, and I'm honestly curious, guys, if any of you read this, as to whether you think you do.)
Like the following anecdote at the beginning of one of the chapters. I am delighted by its ambiguity, but wonder if there's some massive cultural thing (that Sato's extremely comprehensive notes somehow didn't cover) that would explain it:
The Lord of Shirakawa was once assaulted by a spirit while asleep. Informed that he needed to place an appropriate weapon above his pillow, he summoned Yoshiie. Yoshiie at once offered a bow made of spindletree and lacquered black. The Lord of Shirakawa stopped being tormented by the spirit after placing the bow above his pillow.
Deeply moved, he asked Yoshiie if he had used the bow in the Twelve-Year War. Yoshiie replied that he did not remember. That, we hear, increased the lord's admiration. (95)
Increased his admiration? What? ("Well, man, I honestly have no idea whether I used this bow in the Twelve-Year War. Nice one, though, huh?" "Sweet Jesus, you're amazing!") Why? Who can say? I could make up reasons all day, but I can't rid myself of the suspicion that it's basically just a culture gap and I'll never get it.
Then there's stuff like this:
Minamoto no Yoriyoshi, Governor of Iyo, spent twelve springs and autumns in Mutsu warring against Sadat(o) and Munet(o).
On one occasion he left the Defense Headquarters to move his men to Akita Castle. It snowed abundantly and all the men in his army turned cloth-white. Sadat(o)'s castle by the Koromo River rose on a high bank. Yoriyoshi's soldiers built rafts and attacked and fought with their shields raised above their helmets. Finally, Sadat(o) and his men gave up resistance and escaped from the rear of the castle. Yoriyoshi's first son, Hachiman Tar(o) [Yoshiie], gave hot pursuit along the Koromo River and called out, "Sir, you show your back to your enemy! Aren't you ashamed? Turn around a minute, I have something to tell you."
When Sadat(o) turned around, Yoshiie said:
Koromo no tate wa hokorobinikeri
Koromo Castle has been destroyed
[The warps of your robe have come undone]
Sadat(o) relaxed his reins somewhat and, turning his helmeted head, followed that with:
toshi o heshi ito no midare no kurushisa ni
over the years its threads became tangled, and this pains me
Upon hearing this, Yoshiie put away the arrow he had readied to shoot, and returned to his camp. In the midst of such a savage battle, that was the gentlemanly thing to do. (99)
It's a renga exchange, like court poetry. I know that much, I think. So I guess his response was so brilliant / enlightened / courtly / sad that Yoshiie decided to just ... walk away? Well, okay. I guess I can picture similar situations happening in Western culture, like a chivalrous knight deciding not to engage a particularly honorable opponent because the foe was at a disadvantage? Was Yoshiie simply so stunned by the beauty of this dude's response that he could do nothing but go think about it? Etc.
The point of these stories isn't to overthink them. I know. And I find the ambiguity and slight sideways-ness of them very inspiring, so that's good, right? I guess it's the same reason I love those insane "what just happened?" animes -- but I get the same feeling from them: I can't help thinking that I should really be trying harder to get it rather than just giving up and letting it filter in through my Western eyes; that it's patronizing and offensive to take such inspiration from something I plainly don't fully understand; as though my fascination arises from the wrong place, somehow. On the other hand, doesn't it speak well for my cultural education that I just take it for what it is and extract what I can from that, rather than trying to force it into some Western mold?
Oh well. Since you've gotten this far, I'll give you one last bit, which is basically a random little tale of awesomeness.
When he was in his youthful prime, Yoshiie used to meet secretly with a certain monk's wife. The woman's house was near where Nij(o) Boulevard and Ikuma Street crossed. It had a viewing tower built above a mud fence and a moat dug in front of it, with thorny thickets planted at its end. The monk himself was known as exceptionally capable in the way of arms, and was careful in laying out such things.
Yoshiie would come late at night when he knew the monk was away. He would park his oxcart at the outer end of the moat, the woman would pull up the window on the viewing tower and lift the blind, and he would jump right in from the thills of the oxcart. The moat itself was also quite wide, and to be able to leap up like that was something no ordinary man could hope to do.
Their meetings were repeated so many times that the monk finally learned about them and tormented his wife for information. When she told him exactly how it was, he said, "Well, then, next time pretend I'm not here, and let the fellow in." She had no way of getting out of this, and agreed to do what she was told.
The monk planned to cut the man down as he jumped in. So he stood a thick go board like a shield at the spot where the man would come in, the idea being to make him stumble. And he waited, sword drawn.
As expected, the oxcart was parked, and the woman did what she had done at other times. From the thills a man jumped in, like a flying bird, but as he did so he drew his short sword held close to his side, cut in midflight several inches off the top of the go board, and landed safely.
Dumbfounded by the thought that this was no human being, the monk couldn't think of any move to make. Then, seized with terror, he fell off the tower in confusion and ran away.
Later, when he made further inquiries, he learned that the man was no less than Hachiman Tar(o) Yoshiie. His fear simply increased. (107-108)
That's right, monk. Owned.
Oh yeah, and speaking of strange inspirations and exoticized interpretations, you all need to see "Gormenghast". It's a BBC miniseries based on some fantasy books written around the turn of the 20th century by a British schoolkid who grew up largely in the Forbidden City, and obviously internalized a lot of the things he saw there. It's unbelievably awesome, but you need not apply if you're going to spend the whole thing being like, "Wait, explain that last scene to me," along similar lines to what I spent so much time doing in this post. :grin:
* (o) represents an o with a straight line over it (what character is that again?), which apparently you actually can't make on a Mac keyboard, though practically any other symbol is possible.
...
Dustin: He's an arrogant jerk. I'm an arrogant jerk. But I'm right.
Me: I'm as innocent as a lamb.
Mark: Yeah, a black lamb! That breathes fire! And eats people! ... Actually, that would be pretty great. "Jeb, there's something weird about that there la --" (foosh) "Aiiiieeee!"
Like the following anecdote at the beginning of one of the chapters. I am delighted by its ambiguity, but wonder if there's some massive cultural thing (that Sato's extremely comprehensive notes somehow didn't cover) that would explain it:
The Lord of Shirakawa was once assaulted by a spirit while asleep. Informed that he needed to place an appropriate weapon above his pillow, he summoned Yoshiie. Yoshiie at once offered a bow made of spindletree and lacquered black. The Lord of Shirakawa stopped being tormented by the spirit after placing the bow above his pillow.
Deeply moved, he asked Yoshiie if he had used the bow in the Twelve-Year War. Yoshiie replied that he did not remember. That, we hear, increased the lord's admiration. (95)
Increased his admiration? What? ("Well, man, I honestly have no idea whether I used this bow in the Twelve-Year War. Nice one, though, huh?" "Sweet Jesus, you're amazing!") Why? Who can say? I could make up reasons all day, but I can't rid myself of the suspicion that it's basically just a culture gap and I'll never get it.
Then there's stuff like this:
Minamoto no Yoriyoshi, Governor of Iyo, spent twelve springs and autumns in Mutsu warring against Sadat(o) and Munet(o).
On one occasion he left the Defense Headquarters to move his men to Akita Castle. It snowed abundantly and all the men in his army turned cloth-white. Sadat(o)'s castle by the Koromo River rose on a high bank. Yoriyoshi's soldiers built rafts and attacked and fought with their shields raised above their helmets. Finally, Sadat(o) and his men gave up resistance and escaped from the rear of the castle. Yoriyoshi's first son, Hachiman Tar(o) [Yoshiie], gave hot pursuit along the Koromo River and called out, "Sir, you show your back to your enemy! Aren't you ashamed? Turn around a minute, I have something to tell you."
When Sadat(o) turned around, Yoshiie said:
Koromo no tate wa hokorobinikeri
Koromo Castle has been destroyed
[The warps of your robe have come undone]
Sadat(o) relaxed his reins somewhat and, turning his helmeted head, followed that with:
toshi o heshi ito no midare no kurushisa ni
over the years its threads became tangled, and this pains me
Upon hearing this, Yoshiie put away the arrow he had readied to shoot, and returned to his camp. In the midst of such a savage battle, that was the gentlemanly thing to do. (99)
It's a renga exchange, like court poetry. I know that much, I think. So I guess his response was so brilliant / enlightened / courtly / sad that Yoshiie decided to just ... walk away? Well, okay. I guess I can picture similar situations happening in Western culture, like a chivalrous knight deciding not to engage a particularly honorable opponent because the foe was at a disadvantage? Was Yoshiie simply so stunned by the beauty of this dude's response that he could do nothing but go think about it? Etc.
The point of these stories isn't to overthink them. I know. And I find the ambiguity and slight sideways-ness of them very inspiring, so that's good, right? I guess it's the same reason I love those insane "what just happened?" animes -- but I get the same feeling from them: I can't help thinking that I should really be trying harder to get it rather than just giving up and letting it filter in through my Western eyes; that it's patronizing and offensive to take such inspiration from something I plainly don't fully understand; as though my fascination arises from the wrong place, somehow. On the other hand, doesn't it speak well for my cultural education that I just take it for what it is and extract what I can from that, rather than trying to force it into some Western mold?
Oh well. Since you've gotten this far, I'll give you one last bit, which is basically a random little tale of awesomeness.
When he was in his youthful prime, Yoshiie used to meet secretly with a certain monk's wife. The woman's house was near where Nij(o) Boulevard and Ikuma Street crossed. It had a viewing tower built above a mud fence and a moat dug in front of it, with thorny thickets planted at its end. The monk himself was known as exceptionally capable in the way of arms, and was careful in laying out such things.
Yoshiie would come late at night when he knew the monk was away. He would park his oxcart at the outer end of the moat, the woman would pull up the window on the viewing tower and lift the blind, and he would jump right in from the thills of the oxcart. The moat itself was also quite wide, and to be able to leap up like that was something no ordinary man could hope to do.
Their meetings were repeated so many times that the monk finally learned about them and tormented his wife for information. When she told him exactly how it was, he said, "Well, then, next time pretend I'm not here, and let the fellow in." She had no way of getting out of this, and agreed to do what she was told.
The monk planned to cut the man down as he jumped in. So he stood a thick go board like a shield at the spot where the man would come in, the idea being to make him stumble. And he waited, sword drawn.
As expected, the oxcart was parked, and the woman did what she had done at other times. From the thills a man jumped in, like a flying bird, but as he did so he drew his short sword held close to his side, cut in midflight several inches off the top of the go board, and landed safely.
Dumbfounded by the thought that this was no human being, the monk couldn't think of any move to make. Then, seized with terror, he fell off the tower in confusion and ran away.
Later, when he made further inquiries, he learned that the man was no less than Hachiman Tar(o) Yoshiie. His fear simply increased. (107-108)
That's right, monk. Owned.
Oh yeah, and speaking of strange inspirations and exoticized interpretations, you all need to see "Gormenghast". It's a BBC miniseries based on some fantasy books written around the turn of the 20th century by a British schoolkid who grew up largely in the Forbidden City, and obviously internalized a lot of the things he saw there. It's unbelievably awesome, but you need not apply if you're going to spend the whole thing being like, "Wait, explain that last scene to me," along similar lines to what I spent so much time doing in this post. :grin:
* (o) represents an o with a straight line over it (what character is that again?), which apparently you actually can't make on a Mac keyboard, though practically any other symbol is possible.
...
Dustin: He's an arrogant jerk. I'm an arrogant jerk. But I'm right.
Me: I'm as innocent as a lamb.
Mark: Yeah, a black lamb! That breathes fire! And eats people! ... Actually, that would be pretty great. "Jeb, there's something weird about that there la --" (foosh) "Aiiiieeee!"