Columns on ELTNEWS.com View All Columns

Thoughts on Japan

Kingaku kara no omoi - 金額からの思い

Thoughts on Japan from the National Institute of Japanese Studies. University of Sheffield

Amber or Green Tea - Part Two

Japanese Language

Japanese Literature

Japanese Popular Culture

Japanese Social Relations

Japanese Society

Musings

Traditional Japanese Culture

November 05, 2009

This week, I’m continuing my discussion of Genji translations with a consideration of the more recent versions of the work. Forty-four years after Arthur Waley’s version, the second complete English Genji translation, by Edward Seidensticker, appeared. In his preface, Seidensticker criticises Waley’s version, saying Waley’s ‘translation is very free…his excisions seem merely arbitrary…Waley embroiders marvelously’ (Seidensticker, 1981, xiv), making it clear that his motivation in retranslating the work was, at least in part, to correct perceived errors in the earlier version and, indeed, the points of difference between the two translations formed a major parts of the reviews of Seidensticker’s translation with, for example, Marian Ury claiming, ‘it is clear that the cuts and alterations that Waley made in his translation are such that it is no longer possible to take it as a faithful representation of the original. Waley's book is an intriguing hybrid; but we have not really had a Genji in English until now’ (1977, 201), and Helen McCullough going even further to say, ‘few who have access to Seidensticker's translation will feel inclined to re-read his predecessor’ (1977, 93).

So, what is this wonderful new translation like? Well, here’s Seidensticker’s version of the beginning of the tale:

The Paulownia Court

In a certain reign there was a lady not of the first rank whom the emperor loved more than any of the others. The grand ladies with high ambitions thought her a presumptuous upstart, and lesser ladies were still more resentful. (Seidensticker, 1981, 3)

In fact, this is even more like a cup of amber tea than either of the previous versions, in some ways. The chapter title is translated, the sentence structure is simplified, and some of the imagery is cut, producing an English version which is easily comprehensible, but somewhat terse. This observation is not original – Edwin Cranston in his review of the Seidensticker translation for the Journal of Japanese Studies noted as much, saying that it was ‘drier, brisker, more quotidian’ (Cranston, 1978, 24), than Waley’s, while Roy Andrew Miller makes the comment that, ‘in place of the smoothly articulated, arching structures of the text, we are given…a paragraph of short, effective sentences…it offers nothing unfamiliar or strange; it does not confront the visitor with anything in the least unexpected or novel’ (Miller, 1986, 113) – both of these comments suggest that ease of reading for the target audience was paramount in Seidensticker’s translation strategy, although it is certainly true that his Genji is identifiably set in Heian Japan.

Moving on the fourth translation, Helen McCullough’s 1994 version is incomplete and consists only of ten selected chapters from the work. It was published in a book composed of the Genji excerpts and selections from Heike Monogatari 平家物語 (‘The Tale of the Heike’), another classical Japanese tale. Her intentions in making the translation were to provide a resource for ‘students in survey courses and others who may lack the time to read The Tale of Genji and The Tale of the Heike in their entirety’ (McCullough, 1994, ix), and as such it is not usually mentioned in considerations of English Genji translations, but for completeness’ sake, here is her take:

Kiritsubo

During the reign of a certain sovereign, it happened that one rather insignificant lady enjoyed far greater Imperial favor than any of the other consorts and concubines. She was regarded with contempt and jealousy by proud ladies of superior status—personages who had always taken their own success very much for granted—and her equals and inferiors among the concubines felt even more disgruntled. (McCullough, 1994, 25)

The most recent translation, by Royall Tyler, unfortunately, has failed to become much of a talking point: I have been able to locate only a single review appearing in an academic journal, framed in less than entirely glowing terms:

[I]t will not give rise to the rapturous transports or sensory revelations that readers of Woolf's…generation experienced through Waley's version; nor…is there much reason to look for the epochal revisions of scholarly protocols and the global shifts in interpretation that reviewers thought would follow from the publication of Seidensticker's. (Kamens, 2003, 339)

It is a sad fact that in academia today the publication of a new translation of a work often fails to excite much interest. Kamen’s review cannot be called negative, but it displays a denigratory attitude to translation as an academic activity, dismissing it as a ‘faulty but necessary medium’ (Kamens, 2003, 334). Thus, while simultaneously praising Tyler’s work, Kamen’s attitude can be summed up as implying that translations are only important or relevant insofar as they stimulate readers to read, or do research on, the original texts. As he himself says, ‘I hope it will invite at least some readers to look beyond translation to imagine what else may be done’ (Kamens, 2003, 339).

This isn’t the place to go into what I think of that in detail – suffice it to say that more than one colleague has said to me that the work that gives them most satisfaction, and of which they are most proud, is their translations, but that in order to comply with institutional priorities, and for the sake of their careers, they are obliged to write research article after research article. Leaving that aside, though, what about the translation itself? Here’s Tyler’s version:

KIRITSUBO
The Paulownia Pavilion

Kiri means “paulownia tree” and tsubo “a small garden between palace buildings.” Kiristsubo is therefore the name for the palace pavilion that has a paulownia in its garden. The Emperor installs Genji’s mother there, so that readers have always called her Kiritsubo no Kōi (the Kiritsubo Intimate), although the text does not.

In a certain reign (whose can it have been?) someone of no very great rank, among all His Majesty’s Consorts and Intimates, enjoyed exceptional favor. Those others who had always assumed that pride of place was properly theirs despised her as a dreadful woman, while the lesser Intimates were unhappier still. (Tyler, 2001, 1-3)

Immediately, one can see that this is a very different animal, indeed, from the previous versions. The rhythm is closer to that of the first two translations, and there is also a significant amount of editorial apparatus, leaving the reader in no doubt about the significance of the title. This is replicated throughout the text – ‘there are few pages…that do not have at least one if not several notes’ (Kamens, 2003, 336) – and there is a wealth of additional material contained in appendices and afterwords. The overall result, then, is that readers are constantly aware that they are reading a translation and being informed about Heian Japan. In addition, Tyler goes further in attempting to replicate in English, as closely as is possible, the experience of reading the original Heian Japanese. To this end he refers to characters with titles, rather than names, and blends, to some extent at least, narration and quotation which, again, leaves one in no doubt that one is reading a work written in a very different way from something written in the English tradition. It certainly is a cup of green tea.

To conclude, then: the reception of each of the major translations of Genji has been different, and reflects the period in which it appeared: Suematsu’s was a curiosity; Waley’s a romantic work of English literature; Seidensticker’s a correction of Waley’s errors and a major step forward in Japanese Studies; and, finally, Tyler’s which appears to have had only a limited literary and academic impact.

Which, then, should you read, if you want to get better-acquainted with Genji? Are you the amber-coloured tea type, in search of a fantastical and romantic reading experience? Choose Waley, then. Do you want to get a quick, yet faithful sense of the work’s content? Choose Seidensticker. Or, are you the green-tea type, wanting to get the closest possible equivalent in English to reading a classical Japanese work, while at the same time learning about its setting? Then, Tyler has to be your choice. Each has its strengths, and each its weaknesses, and perhaps the most important question to ask, is ‘Will I enjoy reading this text?’ and if the answer is, ‘Yes’, then that’s the translation for you.

References

Cranston, Edwin (1978), "Review: The Seidensticker Genji" Journal of Japanese Studies 4 (1), 1-25.
Kamens, Edward (2003), ""A Beautiful, Quiet World"? The Tale of Genji and Its English Translations" Journal of Japanese Studies 29 (2), 325-339.
Mccullough, Helen (1977), "Review: The Seidensticker Genji" Monumenta Nipponica 32 (1), 93-110.
Mccullough, Helen (1994), Genji and Heike Selections from the Tale of Genji and the Tale of the Heike Stanford, Stanford University Press.
Miller, Roy Andrew (1986), Nihongo: In Defense of Japanese London, Athlone Press.
Seidensticker, Edward G. (1981), The Tale of Genji Harmondsworth, Penguin.
Tyler, Royall (2001), The Tale of Genji Harmondsworth, Viking.
Ury, Marian (1977), "Review: The Complete Genji" Harvard Journal of Asiatic Studies 37 (1), 183-201.


Leave a comment (0)


« Amber or Green Tea - Part One | Main | Bloodsuckers of the World, Unite! Part One »


Post a comment


Your Name:
Your Email:
Website:
 
Your Comment:
 

ELT Events

Kanji of the Day

谷


Visit Our Sponsors

International

Japan