A couple years ago, I went to an exhibit on Japanese art at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston. Included somewhere there was mention of The Tale of Genji, the story that’s considered by many to be the first novel ever written. It was written in 11th century Japan by a lady-in-waiting named Murasaki Shikibu, and it is still widely read, and liked.
Later that year, I picked up a copy of Royall Tyler’s translation of Genji at a Half Priced Books in Austin. It’s an intimidatingly large book - over 1000 pages - and as such I haven’t worked up the courage to read it on my own yet. But in the time that I’ve been putting that off, I’ve been searching about for context, for contemporaries of Shikibu, to get a glimpse of a place and an era of history that I’ve read next to nothing about.
In that search I found Sei Shonagon’s Pillow Book. Shonagon is frequently mentioned in the same breath with Shikibu, who was her contemporary and, at least apocryphally, her rival at court. It’s true that Shikibu wrote unflatteringly about her, once calling her self-absorbed and petty - characteristics which Shonagon certainly displays in her writing. And it would be easy to imagine Shonagon’s jealousy when Shikibu’s manuscript was quickly declared a national treasure, while hers was simply liked well enough.
The Pillow Book is not a literary groundbreaker, it’s not a work of staggering genius. But it is a very intimate glimpse into a period and a place quite distant from ours, and its value lies in this intimacy.
Through the Pillow Book Shonagon tells us about her life at court as a lady-in-waiting to the Empress Sadako. It’s a scattered record of her thoughts and experiences, her observations on the beauty in nature and in the dress of the people at court. She was a gifted poet and a popular person at court, and as such includes many of her poems and witty conversations in her book. She also writes frankly about her many love affairs and those of her peers. She led a very privileged life, and has many unfriendly things to say about the lower classes and their lack of education and fine robes. This sentiment of hers is very much characteristic of the court in that era of decadence.
In representing this hyper-opulent regional culture so intimately, The Pillow Book, and Tale of Genji too, are frequently compared to Marcel Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past - the main difference being that Proust was kind enough to alter people’s names in his representations of them. Shonagon offers no such kindness to her subjects, which allows us an unveiled look at these figures who would otherwise be relegated to history textbooks.
Through reading The Pillow Book I got to feel very close to Sei Shonagon. I saw things from her perspective, and I appreciated her love of beauty and her enjoyment of life in general. As a primary historical text, The Pillow Book is most valuable not because it gives us the most accurate account of the period, but because it allows the reader to understand and relate on a very human level to a person who lived a thousand years ago.