Yoshida Kenkō (1282–1350)

Kenkō was a Kyoto courtier-poet who took Buddhist orders in 1324. He wrote these 243 short essays when he was in his early fifties, apparently mostly for his own amusement. They didn‘t become widely known until about two hundred years later, but once the book did start circulating, it became established as a minor Japanese classic, treasured for the way it sets out some core elements of the Japanese view of aesthetics, etiquette and religious life.

That aspect of the essays is very show more interesting to us, of course, a door right into the court world of 14th century Kyoto, but they are also a treasure for their sheer randomness. We get thoughts on the uncouthness of the younger generation, rants against the import of useless stuff from China, careful analysis of exactly how we should enjoy the beauty of moonlight or cherry blossom, anecdotes about priests who get their heads stuck in cauldrons or ox-drivers who get the better of fine gentlemen, as well as some very precise laying down the law about which kinds of fish may be carved in the presence of the emperor.

Kenkō can be delightfully inconsistent on occasion, too — there’s a piece where he goes on about the evils of alcohol for a couple of pages, violently attacking irresponsible people who force booze on their friends and reminding us how boring other people become when they are drunk — and then, mysteriously, he seems to have overcome his hangover and goes on to tell us how wonderful a social stimulant alcohol can be, and what fun it is to see a friend getting tipsy… Kenkō does sometimes come over as a bit of a Polonius, but most of the time he is endearing, witty (although even after 700 years of research, some of his jokes are apparently still quite opaque to Japanese scholars), and very enjoyable to read.

The late Donald Keene was, of course, second to none in the art of making Japanese culture accessible to Westerners: here he gives us a short, helpful introduction, a wonderfully lucid translation of what seems to be a rather difficult and often ambiguous text, and enough notes to give us a good sense of all the deep cultural allusions buried in Kenkō‘s writing. show less

This book is difficult to understand. Nary a paragraph goes by without encountering a word or phrase that means nothing to me without consulting the explanatory note, which are many and lengthy. Lots of credit must be given to the translator, not only for rendering a text written almost a millennia ago into modern English, but also for the copious research that must have been done to explicate the myriad of references that make up a huge portion of both the texts included in this volume. I show more must admit that my eyes sometimes glazed over, particularly when the writers recounted stories of emperors, various aristocrats, or monks, all of whom of course can mean nothing to me. This is obviously no fault of the authors or the translators, and simply a function of passing time and cultural differences. These moments were however worth it for the descriptive and philosophical passages interspersed within. Reading classic Buddhist texts as someone not well versed in the subject always surprise me in their piercing observations on psychology. The religious content here is in turns extremely practical (down to how one should arrange their house or what pets one should keep) and playfully contradictory. One passage in the Tsurezuregusa stood out to me in this regard. The writer starts off the section in a diatribe against drinking alcohol, describing the debauchery it leads to, the depression it invokes, the wasted day recovering from a hangover, and the punishment waiting for drinkers in their next life. However he immediate follows with this:

“Yet, loathsome though one finds it, there are situations when a cup of sake is hard to resist. On a moonlit night, a snowy morning, or beneath the flowering cherry trees, it increases all the pleasures of the moment to bring out the sake cups and settle down to talk serenely together over a drink. ”

The book is rife with ascetic recommendations that are contradicted in the next paragraph. Far from a flaw, it is this recognition of the duality of life that makes this stuff relevant hundreds of years later. The need to control hedonistic tendencies and stay focused on valuing your health and your time is balanced with the knowledge that there are occasions to break even strict tenets. To me, this kind of capacious understand of human psychology is needed to make any sense of what it is to lead a meaningful life.

It’s said that these two texts are classics of Japanese literature, and who am I to argue? I will say that in my opinion, the best sections take their place in the great Japanese genre of Iyashikei, slice of life works of art that encourage the very Buddhist practice of quiet contemplation and intense focus on the beauty of daily life. These impressions can be lost if one doesn’t slow down and pay attention. The great tragedy of our times is that this practice, difficult even in 13th century Japan, has become exponentially more difficult. One of the most haunting parts of this book was the repeated descriptions of wasted life and unpredictability of death. Without conscious practice, the precious, short existence we have on earth will zip by us with terrifying speed, and we will meet death bitter and regretful. show less

I haven't read all that much east Asian prose, but I'm starting to suspect that I might over-identify with the overlooked-sensitive-and-ironic-scholar who is unable to find a position in the bureaucracy or hierarchy. Chomei's 'Hojoki' is a charming little piece about living the simple life and so on, but rather undermined by the fact that, in order to live the simple life, you have to be independently wealthy. Kenko's 'Essays,' on the other hand, are an absolute delight. There's nothing I show more like quite so much as people who are willing to hold their own most deeply held beliefs to the standards of their beliefs--here, that leads to 'kill the buddha' kind of things. I also like people who:

* like autumn rather than spring.
* pay attention to language.
* say things like "the testament to our birth in the human realm should be a strong urge to escape from this world. Surely there can be nothing to distinguish us from the beasts if we simply devote ourselves to greed."
* or "things that are not unpleasant in large amounts are books on a book cart, and rubbish on a rubbish heap."
* or "the best things are those that have a somewhat antique air, are unpretentious and are inexpensive but well made."
* or "if you run about the streets pretending to be a madman, then a madman is what you are."
* or "it is cruel to make people suffer and drive them to break the law, then treat the poor creatures as criminals."
* or "Phenomena and their essence are intrinsically one."
* list all the terrible consequences of drinking for a few pages... then say there's nothing quite so pleasant as drinking with a friend.
* being very intelligent, are aware of their own limitations, but do not therefore consider themselves to be as bad as everyone else.

If the world were rather more full of Kenkos, I'd be much happier in it. show less

Although only short, this volume of Yoshida Kenkō's random jottings of idle thoughts is thought-provoking and entertaining. Some of the stories made me laugh out loud at the simple explanations behind supposedly profound acts or seemingly wise words that caused a sagacious man to wax lyrical on their meaning. The passages that reflect on the transitory nature of life and the need to enjoy it without wasting time on the pursuit of meaningless fame or wealth are beautiful in their poetry.