The Tale of Genji Hardcover – Box set, October 15, 2001

This book was difficult because the Japanese of the Heian Period didn't use personal names much; instead they referred to people by their titles. Well, every few years the characters get a promotion and a new set of titles, so there is a constant cycling of titles as the book goes on. In places personal names are used, and if you were confused you can pick up on the action from here and move forward again. So in that respect I found the book a hard read.The story follows a son of the emperor (his name is Genji) as he grows up from a small boy to a middle aged man and constantly advances in the royal hierarchy and has many erotic adventures on the side. Have no doubt: Genji is hard on his lovers. He changes his mind, he demands too much, he chases one woman only to find one who is better placed and so he chases her instead. About two thirds of the way through the book Genji dies, and the story passes on to his descendants. This last part of the book is really interesting, and though I had been afraid I would be bored I was hooked for the last few hundred pages of the story. The tale simply comes to an abrupt hald, and it is clear than there is either more of the story to be discovered in a dusty attic somewhere, or Lady Murasaki died before completing the book.Overall I am glad I read this book. Scattered throughout the book are over 700 little love poems, called "tanka" in Japanese. These are a delight to read, and I go back and read some of them from time to time. I didn't really like Genji, but I did like his story and especially the poems. I have written my own "tanka" for stories I've been working on, and I write love poems to women I'm interested in, too. May you find "The Tale of Genji" to be inspiration and fun!

Many reviewers suggest that the Waley translation has more beautiful language, and that may be. The general criticism of the Waley translation is that he turns Genji into an Edwardian gentleman. I did not understand the meaning of that statement until I read this, more accurate translation. Genji does things which raised eyebrows in his time, would get you thrown in jail today, and which were probably unspeakable in Edwardian times. As a result, Waley worked his way around these events which results in a somewhat different story from that in the Tyler translation. Just to take one example, when Genji brings back the young Murasaki whom he intends to bring up as a future wife, Waley never mentions exactly what happens and implies that Genji does not climb into bed with her until she is old enough to be married. Tyler makes clear that when she arrives to his home, she wants to follow her nurse to bed, but Genji tells her that she will be sleeping with him, although he does have sex with her until she is "sufficiently" old to become his wife. This is but one example of Waley turning Genji into an "Edwardian gentleman". For certain, one realizes much better from reading the Tyler translation of Genji how the traditions of that time set the stage for the Japan of this time, and what amazes me is not how much has changed, but how little.

About the tale itself, what more can I say that hasn't been said? I find this to be a remarkable piece of literature, a carefully crafted and wonderfully told tale of the height of the Heian era, the elegant golden age of Japan where aristocrats correspond in poetry and romances are hatched from a glimpse of a sleeve or the twang of the biwa. Tied strongly to the context of the times--the norms, values, and sensibilities are uniquely Heian--this tale is in many ways influenced by the Japanese take on Buddhism, specifically the focus on the transience of all things, although the intense focus on aesthetics and worldly beauty seems rather un-Buddhist in many ways. Yet, the tale is universal as well in its broader themes; that it is still widely read and enjoyed a thousand years after its composition in many cultures outside of Japan is a testament to this fact. That said, it is not a tale for everyone. Its length, its distance culturally from the modern Western heritage, its leisurely and sometimes slightly plodding plot--these will put off many. And yet, for the interested, attentive reader, this book is an immensely enjoyable read and also window into a unique and beautiful time and place in human history.Regarding the translation, ultimately, all translations have their strengths and their weaknesses; all translators must make tradeoffs and decisions pretty much on a word-by-word basis on issues such as whether to maintain the letter of the text or the spirit of the text, when to remain truer to the source language and when to make concessions to the target language. As such, there is no such thing as a "best" translation, as this is ultimately a subjective decision. For this reason, I frequently agonize over which translation of a work to read, as which translation you read (especially the first time one encounters a work) will forever color your perceptions, emotions, and enjoyment relating to the work.In the case of the Tale of Genji, however, the choice was not agonizing for me. Even though I count certain translations that take freedoms with the original text as favorites (e.g. FitzGerald's version of Omar Khayyam's Rubaiyat is a guilty pleasure of mine), Waley's remarkable liberties with the text were a non-starter for me. This might be a particular bias for me, for as someone who can understand Japanese, I can compare Murasaki's original with Waley's version and see the differences whereas for other languages I cannot understand, I can remain blissfully ignorant of the differences between the translation and the source material. Seidensticker is much more faithful to the substance of the original than Waley, but in terms of style, whereas Murasaki's writing tends to be rather flowing, elegant, poetic, and indirect, Seidensticker's prose is characterized by relatively short, choppy sentences and characterized by a directness that, while more appropriate for English, is a bit jarring for those who can read the original text. Although Seidensticker's translation could be seen as less "cluttered" by footnotes, without such notes the frequent allusions to other works (be they poetry, historical works, or other fictional accounts) that Murasaki makes--instantly identifiable to Murasaki's contemporaries--are lost on the modern reader. Seidensticker has his followers, but I personally do not find him enjoyable.In contrast, I found Tyler's translation to both remarkably faithful to the original and yet quite enjoyable in modern English. First of all, Tyler provides a thorough and interesting introduction to the work, which helps put the reader in the context in which it was written. Stylistically, Tyler's language matches the leisurely, flowing, and poetic style of Murasaki quite well. Consider that in the first three paragraphs of the text, the original contains 7 sentences. Tyler translates this in 6. Seidensticker uses a remarkable 15 sentences! Tyler is also much closer to the original in referring to most characters by their titles rather than by name. Even the person who is most commonly referred to by name, Genji, is called by a rather generic surname that is as much as or more reflective of his status in the nobility (the Minamoto "clan") rather than a "family name" in the modern sense of the word. This authenticity places demands on the reader that Seidensticker does not; for some this "burden" is more trouble than its worth (and to be honest, can make it difficult to get back into the book after an absence of any length), but personally in addition to this convention's faithfulness to the original I find this touch to create a level of intimacy that draws the reader into the novel, as an insider for whom names are no longer necessary. Tyler provides the titles and names used at each chapter start (as well as a brief introduction, which is frequently necessary because the chapters do not always flow chronologically) and occasionally provides footnotes where the title usage gets confusing (personally, there were a few places were I could have used more footnotes along those lines, but 98% of the time it is clear to the attentive reader who is being referred to).Just as in Seidensticker's translation, there are many beautiful illustrations. Versions of this tale have been illustrated in Japan almost as long as the novel has been around, so this adds not only a nice aesthetic touch in keeping with Heian sensibilities but also faithfulness to the tradition of the tale. Tyler pays considerable attention to the poetry in the tale, which is ridiculously difficult to translate due to the many layers of word play and allusion to other works of poetry and literature that simply cannot be captured in modern English. Somewhat regrettably, many of Tyler's clever turns of phrase (such as exploiting the remarkable similarity in dual meaning of the modern English "pine" and the Japanese "matsu") will likely be lost on many who are not familiar with the Japanese language, but they are enjoyable for those who do understand what Tyler is up to (and can be enjoyed anyway by those who do not). Almost all poems have footnotes with additional information about the style, substance, and allusions present in the original poem.In the end, Tyler's faithfulness to both the style and substance of Murasaki's original places demands on the reader; not all will enjoy the expectations he places on the reader with respect to such issues as titles versus names. As always with translations, kick the tires on a couple of options and find what works for you. However, for me personally, it is this faithfulness to an incredibly gifted writer and a lyrical and poetic tale that makes Tyler the translation of choice for me.

I only purchased this as it was listed in one of the lists of 1001 books to read. I find in almost embarrassing that I hadn't heard of it, given that it apparently has claims to be the earliest prose novel we have (I had thought this was Don Quixote), that it was written over 1,000 years ago and written by a woman. I guess this just shows the Western-centric focus of my education.The positives outweigh the negatives. You are introduced to a completely different culture, societal structure and moral and religious outlook, vastly different to the post-Viking, pre-Norman state of England at this point over 300 years before Chaucer. The language and the imagery get to you, but take time. It has a languid, gentle style which is not complicated in the sense of long sentences or difficult vocabulary, but you feel that everything has layers and layers of associations and imagery, which are partially conveyed by the notes. It's like the many layers of screens, curtains and fans that stand in the way of the male lover's attempt to see his beloved.Most of the plot concerns men behaving badly in their attempt to secure one, or usually more, wives or conquests and follows familial relations at the Japanese court over several generations. There's bullying assertiveness (often aided and abetted by the women surrounding the female targets of affection), rape and a disturbing suggestion that the best way to get the perfect wife is to 'grow your own' from age 10 onwards. But there is also romantic imagery and real tenderness and loyalty shown by the better of them.There is also a strong sense of a society whose elite really appreciate nature and the seasons, with festivals celebrating particular blossoms and arguments between the proponents of Spring v. Autumn. There is also a parallel world of monks and nuns dedicated to celebrating the underlying Buddhist beliefs of the time.On the negative side, it's very long, it's hard to keep up with all the characters as most are known by their job titles which continually change (a family tree would have helped). The plot can also get a little repetitive with continually infatuations and conquests. However, it's worth sticking with it and the last 1/3 has different characters and a more sustained narrative which has stayed with me.Very pleased I read it, but as the introduction suggests: 'The tale is for readers who have time'. Makes me want to visit Japan.

What a huge book, and how amazing that this was written in Japan about 1000 years ago! It was written by Lady Murasaki who was the equivalent of a "lady in waiting" at the Japanese court. Her diary has also survived and is also available from Penguin Classics, in fact it was the fascination with that diary which led me to "The Tale of Genji". It is described as "a masterpiece of Japanese literature", but that should read "a masterpiece of World Literature" because you do not have to be particularly interested in Japan to be fascinated by this account. Despite her insight Lady Murasaki is of course a product of her times and situation so, unlike her, I cannot really see the world through a glass where imperial rank and courtliness represents almost every thing that is virtuous and desirable in a person, and Lady Murasaki certainly does not describe how most people managed to survive in Japan in 1000AD, nor even much acknowledge that they exist. Thus I didn't find Genji himself particularly admirable, but the storytelling is compelling and enjoyable, and I did come to understand how the mores of that culture might overpower the discernment and analysis of the most intelligent of commentators. For the historian there is also a wealth of material detail, and all these things might indeed cause us to muse on what we see in present day Japan. Together they represent more than enough reasons to read "The Tale of Genji".

I'm ploughing through the kindle version of this book and finding it quite hard as I don't think it is really very suitable for kindle format. This is because there is an extensive introduction, notes and reference included in this book which a reader who is unfamiliar with the Japanese court of old, needs to keep referring to. I'm thinking of putting it one side and buying a hard copy so that I can use the sections of the book more effectively.My Japanese friends say it is the classic Japanese story so I think in the end it will be worth it but I would recommend a hard copy if you were thinking of getting it for your kindle.Of the story I have read so far, it is an engaging one but I am sure that understanding the context and detail of 10th Century Japanese court life better adds to the story itself.

No doubt a novel of great historical importance but really not that interesting. Genji is not a very appealing character TBH, it is rather repetitive and the maze of titles rather than names is quite confusing. It's hard to figure out what the motives are and the cultural drivers are very strange to modern eyes.I much preferred the Tale of the Heiki which had a more linear story and motives more understandable than those of Genji

I recently bought this Japanese classic and if you know how many pages it encompasses, you will not be surprised that I haven't finished it yet - for it takes quite some time to read it, let alone take it all in, especially since the story is set and written in a remote past and is culturally unfamiliar.And yet - I love it already. It's been described as the first psychological novel, and it's easy to see why. The characters in the book aren't always very recognisable for us in terms of morality or philosophy, but I find them all very human and likeable. The book is infused with 'thinking' (like discussions on relationships and one's position in life) and an important feature is poetry: the main character Genji receives and dispatches a lot of subtle poetry (2 lines at a time) that emphasises the loftiness and grandeur of the whole work.As I know only this translation I'm not able to tell how much of the appeal of "Genji" for the modern reader can be attributed to the translator, but clearly he has done an excellent job: it is all very, very readable and the notes are all very informative and give insight into what would otherwise be obscure references and details. And I love the physical side of the book as well: it is hefty, the paper used is pleasing to touch, many japanese style drawings enliven and instruct the reader and the whole layout exudes a refinement that supports the contents.In short: a magnificent book in many ways. And I'm sure that if you pick up this classic you'll be pleasantly surprised.