Sei Shonagon (c. 966-1017) was very much the quintessential lady of the medieval Japanese court. She was clever and creative, able to dash off a poem in a moment. She was avidly social, and loved to engage in witty repartee. And while her life in court was by definition sheltered and sequestered, Shonagon was an astute and often hilarious critic of the society that surrounded her. This vibrant personality shines through in her memoirs, collectively known as The Pillow Book.
Sei Shonagon the Author
Meredith McKinney, translator of the 2006 Penguin edition, affirms that there is very little verified information about Shonagon’s life. The most reliable facts to be had come from The Pillow Book, a work begun in the 990s when Shonagon was already at court in the city of Heian-kyo (present-day Kyoto).
To complicate matters, creating a historical record was evidently not Shonagon’s intention: she leaves out several momentous political events, preferring to describe in detail her day-to-day dealings with the Empress and with fellow courtiers.
Aesthetics in The Pillow Book
Indeed, several passages in The Pillow Book read like a catalogue of aesthetically pleasing images and ideas. Her favourite flowers, the names of mountains, or simply “things that make your heart beat fast” (fine incense, gentleman callers, and sudden gusts of wind): all are similarly listed off.
Her many digressions from this format are nearly always of a poetic nature, expounding in detail on sounds and smells, processions and landscapes. Shonagon often uses the word “okashi” (McKinney translates this as “delightful” or “charming”), describing the world entirely in terms of what is okashi and what is not.
Sei Shonagon and the Empress
Shonagon’s relationship with the Empress, whom she knew as Teishi, forms the emotional core of a memoir that sometimes gets caught up in aesthetic musings. It is more or less Shonagon’s duty to adore her and provide her with intellectual amusement, but the relationship is more complex than that; there is a sense of mutual esteem, but, as McKinney notes, Teishi has a fickle side and is always testing Shonagon’s loyalty.
Perhaps the most striking tale concerning their relationship centres on the snow mountain some courtiers have built in the garden. Shonagon makes an ambitious bet with the Empress as to how long it will last and, to Shonagon’s chagrin, the night before the day Shonagon has bet on, all the snow suddenly goes missing.
It of course turns out that the Empress has had the snow removed; while she is quite nonchalant about the fact in person, the Emperor gives a more direct explanation: “I suppose she just didn’t want to see you win.”
Sei Shonagon’s Lovers
Among the more intriguing aspects of Shonagon’s book is her indirect and obscure way of alluding to amorous trysts. While officially she was married to one Tachibana Norimitsu, Shonagon seems to have had several lovers during her time at court. It is difficult to tell for sure, however; as McKinney explains, Shonagon often makes use of essentially tenseless verbs that make it unclear whether the scene she’s describing is in fact a reminiscence, a story, or a supposition.
In one passage she describes in vivid detail the different kinds of behaviour practiced by a lover leaving at dawn; in another, she describes the trepidation experienced when a lover fails to send a morning-after poem. Many such tense romantic situations are featured throughout The Pillow Book.
The Author's Legacy
Shonagon affirms at the book’s close that she never really intended for it to be read by others; whether this is true or not, an unvarnished sense of Shonagon’s personality certainly does come through. Describing a lady who was sometimes insecure, often self-aggrandizing, and always fascinating, The Pillow Book remains just as much a testament to the era as it is a nuanced portrait of the author herself.
Readers who enjoy The Pillow Book will find more details about Heian Japan in the works of Murasaki Shikibu, a court lady who served under Teishi’s successor and is now famous as the author of the early novel The Tale of Genji. A somewhat less sprightly lady than Shonagon, McKinney notes that Murasaki thought her literary predecessor “dreadfully conceited”, as well as “ridiculous and superficial”.
McKinney observes that scholarly good opinion is now split between Shonagon and Murasaki.
Publication Details
Shonagon, Sei. The Pillow Book. Introduction, translation by Meredith McKinney. Toronto: Penguin, 2006.
