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 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. ( )

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 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. ( )

Writing this, I realize that all this has already been spoken of long ago in The tale of Genji and The Pillow Book — but that is no reason not to say it again. After all, things thought but left unsaid only fester inside you. So I let my brush run on like this for my own foolish solace; these pages deserve to be torn up and discarded, after all, and are not something others will ever see. —Kenkō, Essay 19

...but it is above all the sensitivity to beauty and refinement of the old culture that embodies all things good for Kenkō. —From the Introduction

Chōmei's summary of the progress of his own life, from the fine mansion of his youth through a series of diminishing houses to the tiny 'brief dwelling' of his few final years, traces a trajectory that mirrors his slow realization of the truth of impermanence...As that end approaches with the end of Hōjōki itself, even this hut is cast away at the realization of the necessity of non-attachment, the lesson that lies behind the sermon preached by this work. —From the Introduction

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I knew nothing about these two works other than their titles, so I was pleasantly surprised when I thought they were much better than anything I was expecting.

The first work, Hōjōki by Chōmei, is a beautiful short work (~15pp) reflecting on the author's life, impermanence, and his commitment to Buddhism.

The second work, Essays in Idleness by Kenkō, are a series of 243 essays about all manner of subjects. Some of his favourite subjects are philosophy, aesthetics, anecdotes, and observations of people's behaviours. They show great variety, and range from lighthearted to more serious topics, and are incredibly easy to read.

The translations by Meredith McKinney are excellent, and rendered into a beautiful English.

(In fact, I discovered that the translator, Meredith McKinney, translated The Pillow Book by Sei Shōnagon for Penguin, and after comparing her translation with a copy that I own translated by Ivan Morris, I bought the former straight away and will definitely be reading from her translation.)

May I suggest reading this with some calm, atmospheric music that transports you to the heights of a Japanese Mountain playing queitly in the background, as I did?

I'm all for total immersion when experiencing a piece of art, and I don't usually listen to music whilst reading (usually rain/fire/ocean sounds), but I think Skyrim Atmospheres by Jeff Beal was a great match with these works.
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On flows the river ceaselessly, nor does its water ever stay the same. the bubbles that float upon its pools now disappear, now form anew, but never endure long. And so it is with people in this world, and with their dwellings. —Hōjōki

And so it is with the pelasures of seclusion. Who but one who lives it can understand its joys? —Hōjōki

How could I waste my days like this, describing useless pleasures? —Hōjōki

What happiness to sit in intimate conversation with someone of like mind, warmed by candid discussion of the amusing and fleeting ways of this world . . . but such a friend is hard to find, and instead you sit there doing your best to fit in with whatever the other is saying, feeling deeply alone. —Essay 12

It is a most wonderful comfort to sit alone beneath a lamp, book spread before you, and commune with someone from the past whom you have never met. —Essay 13

Some of today's poems could be said to achieve a nice turn of phrase here and there, but somehow they just do not have the old poetry's subtle flavour of feeling that resonates beyond words. —Essay 14

At times of quiet contemplation, my one irresistible emotion is an aching nostalgia for all things past. —Essay 29

The place is large, with an ancient grove of trees, and cherry blossoms drift down in the garden —Essay 43

There are endless examples of something that attaches itself to another, eats away at it and harms it. A body has fleas. A house has rats. A nation has robbers. A lesser man has wealth. An honourable man has moral imperatives. A monk has the Buddhist Law. —Essay 97

If you wish to follow the Buddhist Way, you should simply retire and make time in your life, and not let your mind dwell on worldly matters. This is the most important thing. —Essay 98

If you wish to be better than others, you should aim to excel them through study; by pursuing truth, you will learn not to take pride in your virtues or compete with others, It takes the strength conferred by study to enable you to relinquish high office and to turn your back on gain. —Essay 130

The man of quality never appears entranced by anything; he savours things with a casual air. —Essay 137

When people get together, they are never silent for a moment. They will always talk. When you listen to what they say, a great deal of it is pointless. —Essay 164

There is so much talking when people get together. It is exhausting, disturbs the mind and wastes time better spent on other things. —Essay 170

Remember, the Buddha teaches that those who lift the wine glass either to their own lips or to others' will spend five hundred lifetimes without hands. —Essay 175

As a rule, people should display no learning or art. —Essay 232 ( )

Read 2019 ( )