The Cambridge History of Japanese Literature ed. by Haruo Shirane, Tomi Suzuki, and David Lurie

Abstract

Reviewed by: The Cambridge History of Japanese Literature ed. by Haruo Shirane, Tomi Suzuki, and David Lurie Richard Bowring (bio) The Cambridge History of Japanese Literature. Edited by Haruo Shirane, Tomi Suzuki, and David Lurie. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 2016. xx, 847 pages. $195.00, cloth; $156.00, E-book. Of Haruo Shirane’s many talents, two stand out here: his extraordinary energy and his ability to organize on a grand scale. Over the years, in addition to important publications on Genji monogatari and Bashō, he has conceived a number of major projects. These include the series of impressive Columbia University Press anthologies of Japanese literature in translation, which have transformed our ability to run classes for students who wish to have a taste of Japanese writing without having to commit themselves to the daunting task of studying the language. Now he has provided us with a valuable guide to that literature. This kind of editorial work involves not only an ability to see the larger picture and then carefully map it out, but also a willingness to persuade and cajole (and possibly threaten?) colleagues and graduate students to drop what they are doing and write in general terms for the benefit of a much larger audience. This is by no means an easy task, particularly now when such work, vital though it is, counts for very little in the academic asylum we seem to have created for ourselves. The Cambridge History of Japanese Literature has been a long time coming and has defeated the efforts of two previous editors, which goes to show how difficult it is to bring projects like these to a successful conclusion. Shirane deserves thanks, praise, and appreciation for finally bringing it off. His ability to twist arms remains unrivaled. How does one cover such a subject in one volume and how does one design it? There is, of course, a plethora of Japanese examples to follow, but writing for a non-Japanese audience demands a different approach. The decision to eschew longer, descriptive essays in favor of fairly short, clearly defined entries was, I think, a wise one, because it avoids the temptation to make bland generalizations, and it concentrates the mind. The average length of an entry turns out to be less than ten pages, which might be thought to have been too constricting, but in fact it works in favor of a much-underrated quality, that of conciseness. We are therefore given no less than 80 tightly constructed essays that cover everything from the Kojiki to keitai shōsetsu, written by 67 contributors, each a specialist in his or her field. One can, of course, always cavil about what has and has not been covered, but this is a totally reliable work that can certainly claim to be comprehensive. The long stretch from the eighth century to the present day has been divided into five main sections—Ancient, Heian, Medieval, Edo, and Modern—each [End Page 249] prefaced by an introduction which sets out the context for what is to follow. It should be said that there is nothing startlingly new or adventurous either about this division or the content of each section, but nor should there be. The role of such a reference book is to offer the present consensus, for one cannot start rearranging or even overturning the apple cart before it has been filled. Not that the content slavishly follows the traditional Japanese scheme; as we shall see, the scope is considerably broader in a number of ways. A quick look at the weight given to each section is quite revealing. Ancient is given 93 pages; Heian 116 pages; Medieval 162 pages; Edo 180 pages; and Modern 209 pages. One must respect editorial decisions, especially when one knows one is in good hands, but at first sight the balance between Ancient and Heian looks heavily skewed in favor of the former, with Man’yōshū, for example, commanding a full 35 pages compared to a mere 10 for Genji monogatari. This may be justified given the unusual prominence afforded waka throughout Japan’s long literary tradition, but it points up an awkward problem that all such literary histories inevitably...