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The Pillow Book (Makura no sōshi)

Sei Shōnagon

Superficiality and Silence as Means of Protest: A Review of The Pillow Book
xz2@middlebury.edu
          In The Pillow Book (Makura no sōshi), Sei Shōnagon (966?-1017?) invited her readers to see the court life in the Heian period (794-1185) through her eyes. Sei’s outlook is refreshing, diverting, and witty. Readers like myself are irresistibly drawn to her unique style. As we find ourselves laughing with Sei, we are also ... read more

          In The Pillow Book (Makura no sōshi), Sei Shōnagon (966?-1017?) invited her readers to see the court life in the Heian period (794-1185) through her eyes. Sei’s outlook is refreshing, diverting, and witty. Readers like myself are irresistibly drawn to her unique style. As we find ourselves laughing with Sei, we are also following her lead, knowingly or not, to see what she’s seeing and feel what she’s feeling. Writing with artful superficiality and intentional silence, in her own way, Sei challenged the literary norms and gender conventions of her time.

        The Pillow Book is a zuihitsu (literally, “following the brush”) diary of loosely connected fragments and free-flowing ideas, in contrast to extended plots and carefully crafted stories in the court tale (monogatari) tradition. While most major works by women at the time represented Empress Shōshi’s salon, including The Tale of Genji (Genji Monogatari) by Murasaki Shikibu (973-1014?), The Pillow Book belonged to the rival salon of Empress Teishi. The three hundred sections of The Pillow Book included various elements, such as lists, essays, and diaries. Unlike in a typical monogatari, Sei’s characters were often anonymous and lacked detailed descriptions. Indeed, a fuller portrait wouldn’t be compatible with Sei’s zuihitsu style, which is characterized by disjointed, quick-moving lines.

Through her distinctive prose, Sei compellingly accentuated her own feelings towards the objects of depiction. On the one hand, she made her perspectives very clear by the titles, most notably her lists, such as Depressing Things, Hateful Things, Pleasant Things. On the other hand, Sei didn’t hesitate to use exclamations to vocalize her thoughts. When she found something depressing, for instance, she would tell her readers without any reservation: “Pathetic and depressing in the extreme!” “How depressing when there is no reply poem!” “Oh, the dreariness of it!” “…only to have his hopes dashed!” (Shirane, 150). In the well-known first piece of The Pillow Book, we are only shown the splendor and beauty of each of the four seasons through Sei’s eyes. With selective emphases and omissions, Sei succeeded in asserting herself as a powerful writer with lots of control over her writings.

          Sei avoided not only writing with convoluted plots but also talking about her own romances and the later tragic events in her life. The discrete sections in The Pillow Book are not chronologically ordered. The essay on the four seasons, for example, bears no specific dates and thus appears ahistorical. Perhaps this is because Sei did not share the taste for tragedy that dominated Heian monogatari narratives. Sei dedicated The Pillow Book as a memorial to commemorate a time of heightened glory, when Empress Teishi was still the imperial favorite. She intentionally left the subsequent downfall of her patron’s family unmentioned. One of the indirect references of these later events can be found in the story, “The Cat Who Lived in the Palace.” Even in this piece, Sei cast two animals as her characters, cat Lady Myobu and dog Okinamaro, thereby further erasing the historicity of the narrative. When reading this fun, fable-like story, readers might recall Fujiwara no Korechika’s unfortunate exile and secret return to the capital. Yet the tone permeating the story is not aware (sadness) but okashi, i.e., amusing and fun. The story itself is tragic and perhaps more appropriately described by the aware adjective (Sarra, 256).

         Critics, including Murasaki Shikibu, have called Sei a superficial and shallow writer (Sarra, 229). I disagree with this accusation. Sei resisted “going into depths” or telling an extended, coherent, and historicized story about her characters or herself. In doing so, she refused her readers the often-taken-for-granted freedom to patronize either Sei or her characters through a male perspective that has dominated both Sei’s time and ours. Her deliberate superficiality and silence made her the storyteller with the most authority in her narratives. She insisted on us remaining attentive listeners before boasting our own imaginations and prior beliefs, and with her enchanting wits, she kept us engaged. Sei is certainly my favorite character, or should I say she has made herself the unquestionable main character despite being half-hidden—or precisely because she chose to appear this way? The Pillow Book turned out to become a great appeal to the commoner audience in the Edo period. I’d recommend it to all, including the non-specialist readers, and give the book a rating of 5/5 for its artistic talents and liberating potential.

 

Works Cited:

·      Shirane, Haruo. Traditional Japanese Literature: An anthology, beginnings to 1600. Columbia University Press, 2012.

·      Sarra, Edith. Fictions of Femininity: Literary Inventions of Gender in Japanese Court Women's Memoirs. Stanford University Press, 1999.

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The Pillow Book: From Pet Peeves to Cultural Insights
aplanting@middlebury.edu
It is not often that a text offers important, historical insight on classical Japan (~538 CE-1185 CE) in such a witty manner, but The Pillow Book, by Sei Shonagon (around the year 1000), does just that. As a lady in waiting for Empress Teishi (who was at the height of her power between 993 and ... read more

It is not often that a text offers important, historical insight on classical Japan (~538 CE-1185 CE) in such a witty manner, but The Pillow Book, by Sei Shonagon (around the year 1000), does just that. As a lady in waiting for Empress Teishi (who was at the height of her power between 993 and 994), Sei is able to give the reader a humorous yet serious look into life at classical Japanese courts through a detailed list of her everyday thoughts/observations. The list includes topics that she thinks are fleeting/rare, thinks are adorable, thinks have “lost their power”, hates, embarrass her, make her feel awkward, and please her. She interlaces these experiences and emotions with valuable perceptions of the classical Japanese court system to give the reader a unique peak into life at Japanese court. Although this excerpt from The Pillow Book seems to be merely a jotting down of ideas at first glance, Sei is able keep her readers engaged and convey messages regarding gender and cultural expectations through recounting relatable experiences in a lighthearted, witty, and humorous tone.

 

As a beginner student of Japanese literature, this excerpt from The Pillow Book was highly enjoyable to read. Sei’s wry, witty, relatable remarks in combination with her diary-like writing style made her flow of ideas easy to follow and pick up on. Despite her seemingly disjointed style, the continuous display of her thoughts gives the reader a rare historical insight into Japanese court culture. This excerpt is riddled with such insights, but in an effort to preserve the narrative for future readers, I will include only two specific examples. In one of her lists titled, “Things That Have Lost Their Power”, she pens in a “woman who has taken off her false locks to comb the short hair that remains” and “a woman who hides from her husband after an argument but must come back as she cannot stay away indefinitely”. Each of these thoughts under this category gives the reader a look into what gender norms were supported throughout this period. In my view, although men were held to a high standard of dress/presentation, such expectations were stricter for women. Although a woman’s character in a Heian Japan court was in part based upon her education, it was largely judged by appearance. Had she appeared aged or poorly dressed, she would have been dismissed and not taken much notice of. The second listing of a woman fighting with her husband highlights how although women had some power in Japanese courts, the men were the dominant gender. Such a description makes the reader feel that the women were dependent upon the men. In this case, had the woman not needed the man she could have comfortably walked away from the relationship.

Not only does Sei provide this unique historical perspective, but she also prompts the reader to reflect upon their own experiences and sort them as she has. This thought-provoking experience is one I thoroughly enjoyed. Reading the section on “Rare Things”, made me ponder and appreciate the fleeting things in my life that I enjoy but often take for granted. Furthermore, reading the section on “Hateful Things” allowed me to reflect on the aspects of my life I do not like, and how I can go about handling my emotions surrounding them in a more logical way.

 

I have never read a story, let alone a short excerpt, that gave me both unique historical perspectives and an opportunity to reflect on my own experiences and categorize those for myself. That being said, I would highly recommend The Pillow Book and would give it a 8.5 out of 10 (I’m taking the 1.5 points off here because I sometimes wished she would provide a full narrative for one of her thoughts). Often, textbooks give you specific portions of history that someone has deemed important for you to know. Although I cannot dispute the importance of some of these events, it often feels cold and impersonal. Sei gave a historical, humorous, thought-provoking account of Heian Japanese court life that students and passionate readers alike could both enjoy.

 

Literature Cited:

Portion of the text written about: Shirane, Haruo. “138-161.” In Traditional Japanese Literature, Abridged Edition: An Anthology, Beginnings to 1600. New York: Columbia University Press, 2012

Full text: Shōnagon Sei, and Arthur Waley. The Pillow Book. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, Inc., 2019.

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The Eternal Delight: Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book
jenglish@middlebury.edu
Classical or historical works often have the reputation of being unrelatable, difficult to comprehend, or outdated. The Pillow Book, written by Sei Shōnagon around the year 1000, certainly counts as a classic, but by no means feels tired or stiff. Sei Shōnagon (her real name is unknown) was a poet, author, and aristocratic court lady ... read more

Classical or historical works often have the reputation of being unrelatable, difficult to comprehend, or outdated. The Pillow Book, written by Sei Shōnagon around the year 1000, certainly counts as a classic, but by no means feels tired or stiff. Sei Shōnagon (her real name is unknown) was a poet, author, and aristocratic court lady who served the Empress Teishi around the year 1000. Comprised of 300 sections, ranging in format from lists to essays, and covering a great deal of subjects, The Pillow Book provides a varied look into aristocratic life in the Heian period, all told with Sei Shōnagon’s trademark wit and biting humor.

              Because The Pillow Book is comprised of so many formats and subjects, it has at least a little something for everyone. Like many other diaries of the time, The Pillow Book can be taken as an homage to its author’s patron; however, it goes far beyond just obsequious praise of aristocrats. For example, the first section (which is also the most famous) deals with the seasons. There was an extreme emphasis on poetry in aristocratic life during the Heian Period, and the poetic portions of The Pillow Book are full of all the aesthetic considerations and pleasures that one would expect of an esteemed writer of the time. As it is a diary, Sei Shōnagon also often assumes her own voice, and her sarcasm and wit are quite entertaining. In her essays she tackles human nature, what constitutes behavior becoming of a proper aristocrat, her own life, and many other things. In other portions, she does not assume her own voice, and chooses instead to relate imperial matters or discuss life in an oblique manner. Some of these sections feel comparatively hollow due to the temporal and cultural distance between a modern reader and what is being discussed, but they are written in the same staccato, punchy sentences that the rest of The Pillow Book is, and the same impact remains.

              Despite being written a thousand years ago, many of the things that Sei Shōnagon relates may feel rather familiar. She discusses schadenfreude, the frustrations of dealing with bugs, people who are annoying to interact with, the pleasures of finding a sequel to a book that you like (only to then so often be disappointed!), and much more. I found myself often laughing or nodding my head at what Sei Shōnagon was discussing. In that sense, The Pillow Book is a shining reminder that humans were and are still the same, even if the way we lead our lives is not. The portions dealing with aristocratic customs of the time may not feel familiar, but they are a fascinating glimpse into life at the time and are plenty interesting in their own right. As such, The Pillow Book is a very enjoyable read, and lacks a lot of the bulk and dry portions that many classics might have.

              Considering the above, I believe The Pillow Book to be a very approachable and enjoyable read, even for those unfamiliar with Heian Japan. Having some knowledge of court culture and Japanese history would be useful for understanding better, but it is by no means necessary to enjoy it and learn a good deal. I would describe it as the most approachable of the works in the classic Japanese canon, and accordingly would rank it a five out of five. After reading The Pillow Book, one comes away with a smile, a sense of connection with people who lived over a thousand years ago, and a deeper knowledge of Heian period Japan.

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Why Your One Night Stand Ghosts You the Morning After and Fleting Moments of Beauty: Sei Shōnagon's Wisdom in Makura no Sōshi
mzhong@middlebury.edu
              Though the “pillow” modifier might seem it changes “book” in the same way it changes “talk,” Sei Shōnagon’s Pillow Book was stylized as a personal diary and instead reads more like a slice-of-life novel. When Sei was hyping it up in 1002 CE she said that it was never supposed to be public; ... read more

 

            Though the "pillow" modifier might seem it changes "book" in the same way it changes "talk," Sei Shōnagon's Pillow Book was stylized as a personal diary and instead reads more like a slice-of-life novel. When Sei was hyping it up in 1002 CE she said that it was never supposed to be public; she accidently left it on a guest's pillow who, despite her pleas to keep hush-hush, "spilled the tea."

            It is because Sei intended only herself to be the audience of her book she writes so candidly. Her blunt style and wit calls to mind Voltaire's Candide. For example, in one entry, she lists out "hateful things:" inconveniences that are nonetheless truly "hateful." Examples include important officials who have overstayed their welcome (yet you cannot shoo them away due to their status), when your dog begins barking loudly as your secret lover visits in the night, and people who leave without closing the (screen)door.

            She also includes (and this is where you can get your one-night stand advice) a list of common shortcomings of lovers, including but not limited to: losing something in the night and fumble around the half-lit dawn searching for it, totally killing the mood; wasting time by making minute adjustments to their outfits when leaving in the dead of night; failing to show enough reluctance when leaving the morning after (she spends a page or two describing how, exactly, one should make their leave, and how one should spend the rest of their morning, after a night of lovemaking); not looking as elegant the morning after as they were the night before.

            However, not all of the book is delightfully relatable minor inconvenience. Sei also writes of her quiet contemplation: in "Things that have Lost their Power," she writes of "the retreating figure of a sumo wrestler who has been defeated in a match;" or a woman who runs away from home after a petty argument with her husband, certain that he will run after her, and yet when he responds with the most "infuriating indifference," she must swallow her pride and return. In these lists Sei demonstrates her power to notice and capture the brief, fleeting moments that, when taken together, build an immensely compelling aesthetic of a scene, just like the numerous short waka poems she must have memorized by heart. The reason why The Pillow Book is superior to a compilation of poems, however, lies in Sei's presentation: when we see waka poems as pages of text it becomes difficult to stop, appreciate, and absorb the moments each capture. The beauty of waka would benefit from moderation. Pillow Book, however, is more digestible, and better organized, making its charm more easily accessible for busy short-attention-span college students. In this sense I would compare her writings, and waka too, to a beautiful ink painting (a sumi-e): both capture the centerpiece of an aesthetic in just a few brushstrokes, while leaving what is not put on paper, the negative space, to the audience's imagination, and being all the more beautiful because of it.

            So yes, I do recommend The Pillow Book. It is a refreshingly paced combination of relatable annoyances and well-encapsulated moments of natural beauty. The content is also very accessible; it first gained traction among a commoner audience hundreds of years after it was first written. I'd give it a solid 9/10.

            Pity there won't be a sequel.

           

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Pillow Book - A Review
aarong@middlebury.edu
              The Pillow Book is a diary written by Sei Shōnagon, a lady-in-waiting at the imperial court of Japan in the final decade of the 10th century. Considered by many as a pillar of court literature from the Heian period, the text provides insight into the aristocratic lifestyle of the time. Through its distinct ... read more

 

            The Pillow Book is a diary written by Sei Shōnagon, a lady-in-waiting at the imperial court of Japan in the final decade of the 10th century. Considered by many as a pillar of court literature from the Heian period, the text provides insight into the aristocratic lifestyle of the time. Through its distinct style of prose the piece also evokes a sense of familiarity in contemporary readers and remains valuable as a literary work in its own right.

            The composition of The Pillow Book distinguishes it from other texts of the Heian era, as it is a collection of a few hundred separate and unrelated sections, which fall into three broad categories. The lists, essays, and diary entries are all the private musings of Sei, who claims she never intended for the book to be published. Not only do these snippets of text provide a glimpse into the day-to-day thoughts of a Heian aristocrat, but their arrangement and style show us a different side of court literature.

Arguably the most noteworthy portions of the book are the list sections, which contain often humorous sets of things or situations that fall under certain categories. In section 148, titled "Pleasing Things," Shōnagon writes, "It is a great pleasure when the ornamental comb that one has ordered turns out to be pretty." In section 14, "Hateful Things," she complains, "One is telling a story about old times when someone breaks in with a little detail that he happens to know, implying that one’s own version is inaccurate—disgusting behavior!" Both of these excerpts from the text highlight the most compelling quality of the piece. The Pillow Book is a remarkably relatable text. Not only is the reader transported to the aristocratic lifestyle of the Heian period, but they get to see in these passages moments which can be connected to their own lives. This keeps the audience engaged with the piece, which is significant enough for a rather old literary work. But this also makes for a profound reading experience, a contemplation on human nature and the little things that bring distant individuals and social worlds together.

The Pillow Book plays with the dynamic between the familiar and the distinct not just in content, but in form as well. The mix of different formats (lists, essays, etc.) and the stream of consciousness zuihitsu style create a poignant ambience throughout the work. The diary is also notable for its use of sentences that end with nouns instead of the customary verbal predicate in Japanese. This makes the piece an interesting comparison both to other texts from the Heian period and to literature in the centuries following. These noun-final phrases create a pacing that works well with the list sections, and contribute to the specific atmosphere of the text.

Through its humor, style, and content, The Pillow Book combines insight into the past with startling contemporary relevance. It is a must-read not only for those interested in Japanese or older literature, but for anyone looking for a funny and thought-provoking work.

 

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Stream of Dreams and Thoughts: A Review of Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book
nnunez@middlebury.edu
Around 990, Fujiwara no Teishi became an empress after her father, Michitaka, married her off to Emperor Ichijō. However, when her father suddenly passed away five years later, Teishi’s uncle, Michinaga, took the opportunity to secure his power. He forced Teishi to leave the palace and had his own daughter, Shōshi, become Empress. During their ... read more

Around 990, Fujiwara no Teishi became an empress after her father, Michitaka, married her off to Emperor Ichijō. However, when her father suddenly passed away five years later, Teishi’s uncle, Michinaga, took the opportunity to secure his power. He forced Teishi to leave the palace and had his own daughter, Shōshi, become Empress. During their time as Empress, both Teishi and Shōshi were able to have their own cultural and literary salons, where notable female poets and writers had the opportunity to showcase their talents. Although almost all the famous works that emerged during this time were from Shōshi’s salon, one notable work from Teishi’s salon was able to survive through time: Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book (Makura no sōshi).

Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book is a unique and refreshing addition to the countless works produced in the Heian Period. Focused primarily on the years 993 and 994, The Pillow Book is a miscellaneous compilation of three hundred sections that can be divided into three types: lists, essays, and diary entries. Unlike the other famous works that emerged during the Heian period, The Pillow Book was written without an audience in mind. In the section titled “This Book” (Section 185 of The Pillow Book), Sei Shōnagon described many of her entries as being “casual jottings” and notes on “trivial material,” which could not measure up to other notable works of her time. However, this stream of consciousness may be what makes The Pillow Book worth reading. Her writing successfully captured the essence of her day-to-day life as a lady-in-waiting.

One of the most distinctive features present in The Pillow Book is Sei Shōnagon’s lists. Varying in length, these sections focus on specific topics – such as depressive, adorable, hateful, embarrassing, awkward, and pleasing things – and list various things that reminded Sei Shōnagon of such topics. Her witty delivery and choice of examples made me chuckle, and her choice of examples surprised me. I was particularly surprised when “duck eggs” and an “urn containing the relics of some holy person” were both listed as “adorable.” Why these things were chosen to list “adorable things” was beyond my understanding. Some other examples – such as being pleased when she finds out that the book, she enjoys has a second volume – made her seem relatable. Overall, her way of thinking outside the box when compiling these lists made me excited to find out what she would include in her next list.

Another type of section included in The Pillow Book is the anecdotes. One of the narratives, “The Sliding Screen in the Back Hall,” was able to provide the audience with a simple yet insightful event of Sei Shōnagon’s life as a court lady. Unlike many Heian works, this section was able to convey a wider range of emotions in women. For example, the ladies-in-waiting would laugh and comment on their dislike toward the hideous painting on the sliding screen in the northeast area of the palace. Moreover, the audience can see the interaction between Sei Shōnagon and the empress. Through Sei Shōnagon’s point of view, we are able to see the height of Empress Teishi’s power. Essentially, these anecdotes helped draw an image of the everyday life of a lady in waiting while commemorating the short rule of Empress Teishi.

 

Overall, I found that its witty and humorous delivery made The Pillow Book a refreshing read. It was written in such a way that made it accessible to all audiences – young or old. The vocabulary used is not complex, and the audience does not need to have a deep knowledge of the period to understand the book. Since the sections were small and digestible, people with busy schedules can easily read it during their free time. Although I would highly recommend this book to other people, I do acknowledge that this book may not be for everyone. The lack of coherence throughout the book may be frustrating for people who want to read a well-structured narrative. Moreover, some may find The Pillow Book to be occasionally “condescending” (as worded by Murasaki Shikibu). This pompous behavior can be seen when she describes her hate towards people who sneeze (aside from her Master, of course) and the pleasant feeling of being acknowledged by the Empress in front of all the ladies-in-waiting. I would argue that it's this attitude that sets The Pillow Book from other Heian works. It’s unapologetic and shows no desire to appeal to the audience. It's able to show the raw emotions and gives us a clear insight into the mind of the Heian lady-in-waiting while providing a great primary source on life at the palace. Ultimately, I would recommend Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book to others and rate it a 4.5 out of 5.

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The Pillow Book: A Relatable, Witty Portrait of the Life of Sei Shōnagon
mkemmer@middlebury.edu
Written during the Heian Period of Japan (794-1185), Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book stands as both a compelling self-portrait of court life during Empress Teishi’s reign and an engaging literary work that takes advantage of its rambling, diary-like structure to develop a uniquely relatable persona in its author Sei Shōnagon (966-1017). Structured by lists, essays, ... read more

Written during the Heian Period of Japan (794-1185), Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book stands as both a compelling self-portrait of court life during Empress Teishi’s reign and an engaging literary work that takes advantage of its rambling, diary-like structure to develop a uniquely relatable persona in its author Sei Shōnagon (966-1017). Structured by lists, essays, and diary entries, The Pillow Book follows Shōnagon as she details her various life experiences, likes, dislikes, and perspectives on the world around her. Throughout the text, Shōnagon’s narrative voice is humorous and confident, and through the medium of her writing, she constructs a literary image of the Heian court environment she inhabits and allows us to see through her eyes with ease, dissecting the aesthetics of the spaces and people she encounters into bite-sized anecdotes and lists. 

Turning each page of The Pillow Book gives us a glimpse into the rich inner world of Shōnagon as she experiences daily life in the Heian court. Skilled with wit, Shōnagon, sometimes long-windedly, details her opinions on a wide range of topics such as the seasons themselves, things she finds depressing, or things she finds awkward. As a whole, the text’s strongest aspects are its relatability and playful mood. Tied to this humorous tone, one of my favorite sections is entitled “Adorable Things.” As its name suggests, Shōnagon details a set of things she considers to be adorable, listing examples such as a baby crawling on the ground, tiny lotus leaves, and fledgling chicks. Writing about a parent feeding worms to a baby sparrow, Shōnagon enthusiastically remarks, “Delightful!” (441). Here, Shōnagon’s prose is animated and full of mirth, and readers can immediately identify with the joyful way she beholds the world. When reading this section and others, I found myself laughing out loud several times, shocked that a literary work from the Heian Period felt so accessible and relatable to myself as a twenty-first century reader. 

Ultimately, I would wholeheartedly recommend The Pillow Book to anyone interested in experiencing an account of court life in the Heian period through the thoughts of a witty, engaging female narrator. Sei Shōnagon’s text effectively provides a fully-realized window into the human experience. Like Shōnagon, we all categorize our world into things we find interesting, embarrassing, or charming, and therefore, as we read Sei Shōnagon’s words in The Pillow Book, we see ourselves reflected back in its pages. Out of a five star rating system, I rank The Pillow Book as four and a half stars. 

 

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fgruson@middlebury.edu

While reading "Depressing Things (13)" and "Hateful Things (14)," I could not help but notice the repetition of "How Depressing/Hateful" or some similar variation to this phrase. However, it generally felt as if the author was being sarcastic when saying these phrases. My question is in what ways did the author include sarcasm throughout The Pillow Book?

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kngai@middlebury.edu
The Pillow Book was widely read for style, humor, and interesting lists, mainly consisting of highly personalized stories and a series of observations of court life. While being popular with the new commoner audience in the Edo period, I was wondering if the aristocratic society also read it, and if they did what were their impressions on it? Or was it more geared and focused towards the commoner audience to depict and imagine court life as it was?
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aplanting@middlebury.edu
It was really interesting to be able to have an inside look into an individual's personal thoughts (aside from love life and experiences in court). Having such insight made the reading relatable. That being said I do have a few questions about it as a whole that aren't necessarily connected. In the "Cat who lived in the palace", was this really about a cat and if so, what place did animals hold in society and why? In the "Sliding screen in the back of hall", what would happen if those asked to recite poetry weren't able to? Also, would men and women be held to the same standards with regards to knowledge of poetry? Lastly, in "Things that have lost their power" the concept of age was touched on. Were people allowed to show age, and would it be different for a man to show his age vs. a woman showing her age? One final note, aside from this work, were there any other works written in this way (i.e. a window to personal thoughts) and were these others accepted as well as the Pillow Book?
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xz2@middlebury.edu

What are the merits of using lists as a genre? Why did Sei Shōnagun write loosely connected episodes instead of convoluted plots?

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jenglish@middlebury.edu
It stood out to me that Sei Shounagon stated that the book was really just a compilation of her ramblings more than anything else. Is this her downplaying her own accomplishment (the classic "Oh, this? I was just messing around"), or a legitimate admission that The Pillow Book is essentially just what she was thinking at various points?
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kmacalintal@middlebury.edu
 

The historical background given on The Pillow Book claims that much of the book is about "aristocratic women's education, especially the need for aesthetic awareness as well as erudition, allusiveness, and extreme refinement in communication." “The Sliding Screens in the Back of the Hall” story seems to clearly embody these themes, but do these themes also seem prevalent in any elements of the list sections (eg. Depressing Things, Hateful Things, Rare Things, etc)?

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gfahrner@middlebury.edu
I noticed in the "Cat Who Lived in the Palace," the characters who were depicted as animals were very anthropomorphized. They held social standing and seemed to be important members of court. In addition, their actions and emotions where those of ones we would call human or human-like. I was wondering if the animals within this story are in fact real people and the animal descriptions are just a literary device or metaphor of some kind?
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gfahrner@middlebury.edu
On another note, from my knowledge many societies view different animals as sacred, connected to the supernatural, etc. I am thinking cows in Hindu society, Ravens in Norse society, and felines in Egyptian society to name a few. Although these belief are closely tide to religion or mythology, I was wondering if there are similar ones (natural or supernatural) within Japanese society?
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mgromero@middlebury.edu
Nature is intended to cause an emotional response and as I read the beginning poems of the Pillow Book, I wondered, if there are any poems detailing the horrors and dangers of nature as well. Were there any poems that speak on the negatives or negative emotions caused by nature like natural disasters?
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nzambranoromero@middlebury.edu
A lot of the readings up to this point were popularized because they were used as frameworks for what Waka poets were expected to write. How is it then that the Pillow Book was popularized for its humor and style? The preview to the Pillow Book even mentions how it was neglected during the Heian period, because at that point readings were only popularized if they were useful (humor and style was not something that best represented Heian poetry). Knowing this, I was wondering why this transition occurred. As a whole, it was nice to shift into a new style of writing, less poetry and turning a bit further away from emotional poetry.
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aarong@middlebury.edu
I was thinking a lot during the list sections about the sentences that are just a noun and a relative clause. How does this distinctive style affect the pacing and delivery?
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nnunez@middlebury.edu

The image of “pillow-sleeves” and wet sleeves kept repeating over and over in the diary. Why would the author refer to sleeves out of all the garments throughout the poems?

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nnunez@middlebury.edu

Both "The Imperial Huntsman" and "The Izumi Shikibu Diary" are stories that depict forbidden love. How are these narratives similar in how they show this forbidden love? Moreover, both the diary and Tales of Ise have poems mentioning the sleeves being drenched. In the diary, the lady mentions that “only my sleeves are drenched,” while the daughter of the high priestess stated that “shallow as waters that do not wet the hem of a traveler’s robes…” Why is this motif mentioned repeatedly throughout poems? What is it implying?

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nleung@middlebury.edu
One thing that stood out to me was that in the end, Sei Shonagon said that she regretted the Book coming to light as it was originally written just for her own amusement. It is to be noted that almost all of the major works by women of this time were written by women in Empress Shoshi's salon while only Sei Shonagon represents the rival salon of Empress Teishi. I refuse to believe that lady-in-waitings of Empress Teishi did not write anything or are bad writers. So is there a reason why women in Empress Shoshi's salon published many successful works of literature while Sei Shonagon's book is the only successful one in Empress Teishi's salon?
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axzou@middlebury.edu

I found The Pillow Book to be a very interesting read and a unique way to write a "biography" of Empress Teishi and her family. Rather than following the structure of a traditional biography, this work presents a fragmented, non-chronological collection of stories that raises questions about how it was received both in its time and in later periods. Given its neglect during the Heian and medieval periods, I’m curious to know what kinds of criticism or lack of appreciation The Pillow Book may have faced. 

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rpessah@middlebury.edu
 

In The Pillow Book, I found "The Awkward Things," "Adorable Things," and "Embarrassing Things" enjoyable because they resonate with everyday experiences. For instance, in "Awkward Things," Shōnagon states, "One has gone to a house and asked to see someone; but the wrong person appears, thinking that it is he who is wanted; this is especially awkward if one has brought a present." I can relate to this scenario, as it captures the uncomfortable moments we all face when expectations go awry. I was curious to know, how do these experiences compare with social interactions in today's society, and what do they say about Sei Shōnagon's personality and her perspective on human relationships? 

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jcruzmendez@middlebury.edu
The Pillow Book was an interesting read. I enjoyed learning about the author's personal dislikes, likes, and overall thoughts. I am curious to know if there were some people who criticized the writing and the topics? Additionally, I wonder if this helped people make changes in their lives? Perhaps recognizing they were doing one of the hateful things?
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tjwang@middlebury.edu
 

When reading the book "The Pillow Book," I found it more exciting of a read than maybe some of the prior readings. Especially because of it's fast paced and the style of the writing. I also enjoyed some of the humorous moments found in the book. Something else I found different about this book compared to others is the lack of poetry compared to past readings where there was a lot of poetry to be found throughout the book. I also found the book to be more informal than some of the other readings and it gave a great description of what life seemed to be like in the court of Teishi. A question I had is I saw that this book was a big hit with the commoners and I wonder what separated this book from the other books we have read that cause the commoners to really enjoy this book?

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ipentony@middlebury.edu
I found The Pillow Book to be a refreshing read after working through the Tale of Genji and the Diary of Izumi Shikibu these past couple of weeks. While I enjoyed reading those stories as well, I found that the Pillow Book felt much more authentic - largely due to the structure of the sections and the author's use of pronouns like "I" and "me". I particularly enjoyed the list sections; these provided interesting insight into the general culture and everyday life of the time, while also remaining relatively relatable to things we still find depressing, hateful, awkward, or embarrassing today. One of my favorite quotes from these lists is "One is in the middle of a story when someone butts in and tries to show that he is the only clever person in the room." I also found it extremely interesting to read in the last section featured in the textbook, This Book (185), that the author meant for her writing to remain private, and that she regrets that it was published to the public. I am curious about how it happened that her private diary was published without her consent. How would the book be different if Sei Shonagon had written about the same things but with the intention of publishing her opinions? Would she have been more filtered and less authentic? Would the book still have been so popular with the commoner audience?
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lmcnamara@middlebury.edu
 

After some of the other readings, I felt we were stuck in an endless loop where poetry was the determining factor in the tone and structure of the stories, so something different was refreshing. While reading, I was intrigued by just how informal the tone was and what Sei Shōnagon was saying. Some of them even relate to today! The section I found the most interesting was "Hateful Things(14)", as these experiences really come from the heart, and penning this type of work must not have been expected. This has me wondering: was this piece a way for Sei Shōnagon to get out everything she felt before she became obsolete, and why were the sections with negative things longer than those with positive things?

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as5@middlebury.edu
While reading The Pillow Book, I was pleasantly surprised to read an assortment of readings that seemed more "genuine" for the lack of better words. One of my favorite parts reading was in "Depressing Things (13)," when it's mentioned, "One has sent a friend a verse that turned out fairly well. How depressing when there is no reply poem!" I think this part just caught me off guard because of its relatability. It reminds me of the person who connected sending poems to sending memes. In this read, I feel like this idea presented is extremely similar to whenever you pour your heart and soul into a well-constructed thought or idea to a friend, and they just respond by liking your text or sending a lackluster response. With this being said, it was noted in the beginning that the Pillow Book was relatively neglected in the Heian and medieval periods. Is this due to the Pillow Books' sharp contrast in terms of its witty, compact, etc. nature compared to that of The Tale of Genji or The Tales of Ise? Or is it simply due to its lack of poetry compared to the others?
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mgamez@middlebury.edu

I found the examples in this section amusing and relatable, especially in the "Embarrassing Things" section like someone repeating themselves while drunk. It’s interesting how even in the Heian period, these awkward social dynamics and annoyances were so familiar. It made me wonder if these reflections were meant to offer a universal critique of human behavior or if they were specific commentaries on court life. Do you think these observations would have resonated with everyone during that time or with just a selected educated audience?

 
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gnadecki@middlebury.edu
I found "The Pillow Book" a very interesting read, particularly because of the way in which it is structured. The combination of lists, essays, and diary entries make the book feel more informal and as if we are getting a true insight into what life was like in the court of Teishi. I especially found the lists to be intriguing as they both explored popular values and culture of the time in a less filtered or formal way as well as are easy to relate to. For example, Depressing Things demonstrates the importance of letters and poetry as written communication and the formalities of responding as well as provides a clear parallel to modern day texting. I wonder then how the alternative structure used by the Maeda and Sakai variants of grouping by writing structure alter the narrative experience for the reader? Additionally, I wonder how Sei Shonagon intended for The Pillow Book to be read, or if it didn't matter to her the organization?
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sgosnell@middlebury.edu

I quite enjoyed The Pillow Book. Unlike some of the other works we have read by Heian female authors like The Tale of Genji and The Diaries of Ise, The Pillow Book is fun, opinionated, relatable, and quite accessible in terms of language. What I mean by “accessible” is that Sei Shōnagon explores both court-related topics but also more generally situations that regular people experience, both of which I think are especially evident in “Hateful Things.” As the introduction to the work explained, one of the reasons Sei Shōnagon’s Pillow Book is of interest is because of her strong character, which is certainly evident in her writing. I wonder, however, what kind of impact did the “strong character and personality of Sei Shōnagon” have on women’s writing from that point onward, especially in regard to candid, unconventional self-expression?

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dennisl@middlebury.edu
I found the "Depressing Things" and "Hateful Things" section very funny. Some of the things listed were either self-explanatory or easily explained in the footnotes. However, there were some strange peeves such as "A dog howling in the daytime". There is also mention of the author sometimes wanting to kill dogs and hating the sound of dogs barking. I am wondering if the author just has a personal vendetta against dogs or if dogs were unanimously hated at the time similar to how most people don't like snakes or bugs.
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jfabre@middlebury.edu
 

Something I found fun about the Pillow Books was the 'Hateful Things' section. Despite it being a different time and culture, there were a surprising number of things that Sei Shonagon found 'hateful' that I think modern readers relate to. For example, people being know-it-alls or taking the lead when they have no right to be the leader of a group, or men behaving 'uncharmingly' after spending the night together. I thought the example of a man talking about a past lover to his current lover to be particularly funny. Then, she also has some examples that I thought were kind of strange, like hating people for sneezing... Does she never sneeze?

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mkemmer@middlebury.edu

  1. Angles, Jeffrey. “Watching Commoners, Performing Class: Images of the Common People in ‘The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon.’” Japan Review, no. 13 (2001): 33–65. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25791060.

In this journal article, Jeffrey Angles examines the representation of commoners and the performance of class in Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book. Through close examination of semantic patterns and textual examples, Angles discovers that Seis discussions of the common people are multifaceted and complex. When exploring aesthetic boundaries, Sei resists pitting courtly aesthetics versus common ones. According to Angles, Sei, in her depictions of  harvesting peasants and ox cruppers, attempts to convey that one can appreciate the sight of things associated with the common people on the condition that it is done from a distance. When leaving aesthetics behind and considering the lower classes in social terms, however, Angles asserts that Sei instead emphasizes the differences between herself and commoners’ behaviors and knowledge patterns in order to perform her class and mark herself as someone who belongs to the highest tier of society. Overall, Angles’ article provides an easily accessible format for readers: he systematically investigates negative, neutral, and positive descriptions of commoners in The Pillow Book and explores linguistic indicators of class found within Sei’s work. This article serves as a relevant resource for anyone seeking to analyze The Pillow Book from a perspective of class in Heian era Japan. 

 

  1. Ivanova, Gergana. “Beyond ‘In Spring, the Dawn’: Redeeming The Pillow Book through Manga.” Japanese Language and Literature 55, no. 1 (April 1, 2021): 243–73. doi:10.5195/jll.2021.158.

This article by Gergana Ivanova explores modern Japanese adaptations of The Pillow Book, focusing on manga as a medium through which Sei Shōnagon’s Heian period text can appeal to 21st century readers, especially women. Using a discussion of the Japanese literary education system as a springboard, Ivanova begins by offering a glimpse into Japanese students’ typical exposure to The Pillow Book; rather than focusing on content or context, the text is simplified into a few relevant keywords and its opening passage “In Spring, the Dawn.” By analyzing three different manga adaptations of The Pillow Book, each of a distinct genre, Ivanova investigates how these shōjo, gag, and josei manga introduce Sei’s text to modern readers, produce new interpretations of the work, and highlight the rich content that extends beyond the text’s opening section. Essentially, Ivanova asserts that The Pillow Book is a literary work worthy of widespread readership, commending its manga adaptations for presenting the material in an accessible and engaging way that can resonate with a modern audience and shake off the perception of the text as outdated and unstructured. The article provides a unique angle with which to explore The Pillow Book, confronting the text’s reimagining as an ever-living, ever-relatable work that can intrigue readers of any time period, including our own. Ivanova’s analysis serves as an important resource for anyone curious about modern interpretations of Sei Shōnagon’s famous Heian period text.

 

  1. Ivanova, Gergana. “Re-Gendering a Classic: ‘The Pillow Book’ for Early Modern Female Readers.” Japanese Language and Literature 50, no. 1 (2016): 105–54. http://www.jstor.org/stable/24891981.

In this journal article, Gergana Ivanova examines three adaptations of The Pillow Book from the Edo period, highlighting their role in the context of female education. According to Ivanova, the three books–Morning Sun Mountain, Erotic Book: Spring Dawn, and Sei Shōnagon’s Unmatched Talent–were published for female audiences and imparted knowledge that would allow women to increase their desirability as a wife. Each book highlights the importance of self-cultivation for women when dealing with their husbands. However, Ivanova argues that the texts develop a multi-faceted image of Sei Shōnagon as a woman who is the epitome of cleverness, learning, refinement, and sexual attractiveness. By bringing these three Edo period adaptations into discussion with one another in the context of female readership, Ivanova investigates the role that The Pillow Book played in educating women in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. The article gives a brief overview of the history of The Pillow Book’s textual variants, detailing the birth of the “books for women” literary category during the late seventeenth century, which is helpful for contextualizing the three Edo period adaptations Ivanova spends the majority of the article analyzing. Overall, this source focuses on The Pillow Book as a living text that is able to be reinterpreted for each new era, so it may not be as worthwhile for readers looking for information about the text as it existed in the Heian period. Still, Ivanova’s article introduces an interesting perspective on The Pillow Book, so it is still beneficial to read for anyone seeking to understand the text’s impact on early modern Japanese women’s education. 

 

  1. Seethaler, Ina Christiane. “Dressed to cross: narratives of resistance and integration in Sei Shonagon's The Pillow Book and Yone Noguchi's The American Diary of a Japanese Girl.” Ethnic Studies Review 34, no. 1-2 (2011): 185+. Gale Academic OneFile Select. https://link.gale.com/apps/doc/A349721448/EAIM?u=vol_m58c&sid=ebsco&xid=daf12d93.

 

In the first half of this article, Ina Seethaler argues that Sei Shōnagon, in her various, repeated descriptions of courtly attire within The Pillow Book, maintains her status at court by means of the power of dress. Coining the term “imperial drag,” Seethaler asserts that Sei’s wearing and displaying of clothing serves as a performance through which Sei cements her change in status. Citing Sei’s juxtaposition of dirty attire and crude behavior together within her list of “Repulsive Things,” Seethaler draws the conclusion that Sei’s attitudes toward dress reflect her anxieties about the precarious nature of her own status in court as a member of Empress Teishi’s salon. Invoking several examples from The Pillow Book’s text, Seethaler suggests that Sei uses the content of The Pillow Book itself to subvert limits of self-expression under which her gender and status place her. Transitioning from Sei Shōnagon’s The Pillow Book, the second half of the article focuses on Yone Noguchi's The American Diary of a Japanese Girl. Although this selection does reinforce Seethaler's thesis about women using dress as a means of power, when seeking out resources solely related to The Pillow Book, this section is largely irrelevant. Essentially, though, the first half of this article provides an easily readable exploration of Sei’s fascination with descriptions of clothing in The Pillow Book and suggests its greater significance as a method of constructing power in the courts of the Heian period.

 

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nleung@middlebury.edu

Annotated Bibliography

 

Ivanova, Gergana. “Women’s in-Jokes in Heian Japan: Gergana Ivanova.” arcaba.ca. Accessed October 31, 2024. https://arcabc.ca/islandora/object/tru:1404/datastream/PDF/view. 

Ivanova discusses the role of women’s laughter in the Heian period in Japan (794-1185) and focuses on the instances in which Sei Shonagon (966-1017 or 1025) illustrates laughter of the attendants in her book, The Pillow Book. First Ivanova discusses the position of the ladies-in-waiting in the Heian court. Then she dives into the psychology of laughter. Finally, as examples, Ivanova highlights instances in which ladies-in-waiting laugh at male courtiers and commoners.

 

In this source, I would like to highlight a quote by Ivanova which says “Sei creates an image of the lady-in-waiting as a provocateur. Thus the serving women who appear in the pages of Makura no soshi are instigators of jokes, women who enjoy humor and laugh heartily”(3). This quote is the basis for my analysis and other quotes will serve to support the validity of this quote. For anyone who is interested in life in the Heian period, I recommend reading The Pillow Book and Ivanova’s paper as they provide a unique perspective on life in that period that is different from most other works during that time.

 

Shirano, Haruo, ed. Traditional Japanese Literature, Abridged Edition. New York: Columbia University Press, 2012.

In Traditional Japanese Literature, Abridged Edition, Shirano provides readers with background on The Pillow Book, then gives excerpts of the actual text. Although the excerpts of The Pillow Book do not show evidence to support Ivanova’s argument in her article, it does provide insights into Sei’s character and talk briefly about The Pillow Book itself. For instance, the text mentions that "much of the interest of The Pillow Book has been in the strong character and personality of Sei Shonagon"(135) and that "incongruity and disharmony, become the butt of humor and of Sei Shonagon’s sharp wit"(135). These quotes prove Sei Shonagon’s strong personality and readers would be able to see why she would so boldly talk about interesting events that occur within the court that we normally wouldn’t associate with the Heian court. 

 

Angles, Jeffrey. “Watching Commoners, Performing Class: Images of the Common People in ‘The Pillow Book of Sei Shōnagon.’” Japan Review, no. 13 (2001): 33–65. http://www.jstor.org/stable/25791060.

In this article, Angles talks about how Sei Shonagon views commoners with different attitudes. The article starts with defining the "lower classes" as used by Sei, then goes over examples in which commoners are mentioned within the text, and finally analyses those examples. In one instance, Sei and other women laugh at a man of the lower class who approaches them and tells the women of his miserable situation and how he had lost everything (47-48). In another instance, Sei and other women are observing the common people as they "engage in labor"(55). Here, Sei writes that the commoners "sang such a strange song that we had all laughed/smiled (warau) and completely forgot about writing our hototogisu poems"(55-56). In these examples in which Angles raises, it shows the agency that these women hold and the power that they hold above the commoners. Moreover, in a period where the published texts talk mostly about life within the court, it is certainly interesting to see the interaction between the aristocratic and the commoners.

Green, John. “Japan in the Heian Period and Cultural History: Crash Course World History 227.” YouTube, March 4, 2015. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZnZEoOJ-cxE. 

In the youtube video by the famous channel, Crash Course, John Green summarizes the Heian period (794-1185). In the video, using a quote by Ivan Morris, it says “[members of the upper class] are almost totally uninterested in everyone outside their charmed circle and exceedingly sensitive in judging the precise social level of each person who does belong”. This quote would explain why Sei would be so judgemental towards the commoners and openly laugh at them.

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