日本古代学 第 3 号 1-25 頁、2011 年 3 月 Meiji University Ancient Studies of Japan Vol. 3, March 2011. pp. 1-25. 【論 文】 Sailing Between Two Seas : A Discussion of Recent Japanese Writing on the Integration of Literature and History Rieko Kamei-Dyche Introduction One of the most fundamental problems confronting a historian is the question of how one should do history, that is to say, how does one proceed to inquire historically, and how does this relate to other forms of inquiry ? There are many issues within this larger question, such as how archaeology and history are related. In this article my particular concern is the relationship of history and literature ; specifically, how historians deal with literary sources, and how history and literature can be integrated. My aim is to present several possibilities of various conceptualizations and methods based on writings by scholars, largely historians, who have involved themselves in this issue through their work. Drawing upon the work of scholars of pre1600 Japanese studies, I will examine a range of approaches, and the advantages and disadvantages thereof, and attempt to offer my own perspective on the issue. Instead of setting out to essentialize certain scholars or reduce them to just one perspective, I am concerned here with using them to present and discuss some of the various approaches that have been advanced in the field. Before moving too far ahead, it is important to note that just as in Western writing, wherein the connection and/or disjuncture between history and literature through the shared form of “narrative” has been endlessly debated, so too in Japan did some scholars see a link in the form of history and “monogatari.” “Historians are writers of history as monogatari ; in this, [they are] a kind of monogatari creator,” states Kuroda Hideo.(1) Kuroda goes on to note that history is, in fact, descended from monogatari, and he questions whether historians have been ignoring the importance of the monogatari aspect of history, which he sees as permeating history to an extent that transcends merely the presence of narrative history as a form.(2) Concerning this type of argument, we should consider the observation of Kimura Shigemitsu that, 1 Rieko Kamei-Dyche Recently, the “history＝monogatari” discourse is very popular, but a large amount of the discussion is concerned with the monogatari-sei [the characteristic of being monogatari] of narrative which is common between history and literature ; there is no mention of the differences in methods which lead to the “narrative [writing]＝[engagement with] historical materials” discourse.(3) Whether or not what Kimura says about the debate is true, he is doubtless correct that the methodology of integrating history and literature is every bit as important as the theory. While there is already a rich assortment of work on the theoretical aspects of the debate, however, there is little in the way of scholarship that cohesively engages with the range of methodologies available. This is a major lacuna which this article seeks to address. It is also necessary to loosely define the term “literature” as I use it in the context of this article. There is an enormous variety of Japanese literature, and as I will discuss later, some works which we now consider “literature” have at other times been treated as “history” as well. Even works which have almost consistently been understood as “literary works” include immense variation : in addition to poetry (in kana and kanji), and tales (which are also divided into poetic tales, military tales, and the like), there are diaries, setsuwa, and so forth. Of course, the approach to literature one employs may also vary widely depending upon the genre as well ; as a result, “literature” in this article should be taken in the broad sense of the term. This article consists of four sections. The first sets the context by discussing the academic separation of history and literature in the modern era, the second considers how historical studies have made use of literature, the third turns to alternative views of the integration of history and literature within historical inquiries, and the fourth consists of my concluding reflections. I. The Historiographical Context : The Separation of History and Literature Like people, places, things, and ideas, academic disciplines have their own histories. In this section, I will briefly discuss the background context of the development of historical positivism which led to the institutionalization of the modern academic discipline of history and the separation of history and literature. This separation gave birth to the assumption that history and literature are fundamentally different, a notion rooted in the positivistic historiography of the modern era when the emerging discipline of history largely rejected literature from its 2 Sailing Between Two Seas scope.(4) Before the pioneering German historian Leopold von Ranke developed a new form of history seminar in the nineteenth century, there was not a clear separation between history and literature : the modern academic distinction is rooted in his time. Only then did the notion of systematically separating history and literature really start to develop, and in this sense we can say that this division is a fairly modern concept. Previously, it was not assumed that history and literature were mutually exclusive concepts in conflict with each other. As the story goes, Leopold von Ranke found that the events depicted in his beloved historical novels were different from historical facts, prompting such disillusionment that he “decided to leave from such literature and dismiss fictional things completely from my own research, and strictly count on only facts,”(5) Thus began modern positivistic historiography, an approach which was based on the strict manipulation of historical materials to form (what was ideally) a highly-accurate image of the past.(6) The strong reaction von Ranke had towards historical novels, which prompted him to set the groundwork for a new ʻhistoryʼ inspired by positivism, was echoed in Japan. The value of Nihonshoki and Kojiki as historical materials greatly decreased among Japanese historians, to the extent that a tendency emerged to avoid using either work in a positive sense when it became clear that they were not describing only “facts” in an “objective” way.(7) A division was established between those writings seen as historical (a category bestowed in relation to a judgment of the accuracy of the account) and those seen as literary (a category which suggested those things that were untrue, fictional, and not in accord with historical fact). This did not necessarily imply that literature was denounced, merely that it was reduced to a purelyaesthetic role and dismissed as unworthy of consideration by a historian seeking the “truth” of the past. One attitude that resulted from positivistic historical studies was a tendency to avoid discussion of those things that could not be proved by historical sources. Needless to say, it is vital to engage sources critically, but through this framework literature was simply labeled as ʻuselessʼ as a historical source due to the fictional element identified by historians. Literature was effectively thrown out of history classrooms for the duration. To some extent, however, the division could never be completed because the very existence of “literature” as a discipline remained as a challenge to the positivist view by showing how difficult, if not impossible, it was to grasp ʻobjective truth,ʼ This attempt by historians, then, to deal with the subjective nature of the human experience by expelling literature from the sources to be considered, and then 3 Rieko Kamei-Dyche claiming to pursue the past objectively, was perhaps a doomed enterprise from the beginning. History and literature largely developed as disciplines in different directions in the academy for many years. To hear a literary scholar, Tomiyama Takao, describe the state of affairs, it seems that the new disciplinary mode that had emerged led to literature and history not getting along in the early twentieth century from the viewpoint of either discipline : The trend in literary studies was to draw lines too clearly ([to such an extent that it] could be ironic/sarcastic) in some sense ; in the nineteenth century when the maintenance of nation and state was demanded, literary studies was closely tied to history. Then, it attempted to be independent from this tie and succeeded in purifying the sphere of literature. Once it succeeded, however, literary studies tried to reconstruct the ties with what it had cut off previously.(8) For Tomiyama, while literary studies, which by its very nature has a tendency to follow what is popular, has undergone various changes over time, historical studies, which takes what is true in history as its central orientation, seems to have remained relatively steady until the arrival of theories which criticized the appropriateness of that orientation.(9) Regardless of the particular focus of historical studies (be it political history, socio-economic history, and so forth) the methodology based on extracting historical facts from materials is consistent, argues Tomiyama ; the change in historical studies is more of a change in the nature of materials to be analyzed, and the procedures of interpretation employed to engage them.(10) While there are more materials being made use of by historians, and rare materials are more highly valued, the emphasis on historical fact, divorced from fiction (and the mysterious or ambiguous potential literature offers), retains its stability.(11) Therefore, Tomiyama observes, without fundamental changes in their approach, more recent historians have turned to different sources, such as works of literature. Indeed, the earlier rejection of literary sources by historians, based upon the presupposition of clear lines drawn between literature and history, was too extreme. Clearly, even if works of literature carry historically ambiguous information, or describe events which are historically inaccurate and/or wholly fictional, it is too simple a conclusion to say that these works have no value as historical sources. Investigating why such modification or fictionalization of history took place, and other related questions, also leads us to historical issues and ideas. Furthermore, even if literary works seem irrelevant in relation to historical facts, they were far from irrelevant to the 4 Sailing Between Two Seas society and people of the time when the work was produced, meaning that they can offer us insight into how those people thought and experienced their world. In the following section, I will investigate some of the approaches that, in a similar spirit, make use of literature as a historical source. II. How Historical Studies Have Made Use of Literature Although the disciplines of the study of literature and history were separated, this division was never total, and in various ways historical studies attempted to make use of literature. In this section I will discuss some of the ways in which scholars have put literary sources to the task of aiding historical research. These roughly fall into two larger categories of approach : the partial-use approach, and the comparative approach. The partial-use approach is best described as picking up convenient bits and pieces, such as certain passages or episodes, from literature in order to fill a gap in the historical record, or to prove a point or theory. For example, literary sources may be scanned for descriptions of people, institutions, and developments that are not really described in standard historical accounts. Effectively, the literary record is used to fill a dearth in the historical one. For example, Emori Itsuo relies upon the Tale of Utsuho to discuss the marriage system and place of women historically.(12) Like Emori, the historian Fukutō Sanae (an essay of whomʼs I also discuss in the following section), makes use of numerous episodes from various literary works to depict the family system in her book, Heianchō no Haha to Ko (Mother and Child in the Heian Period).(13) This approach is very useful for uncovering that which was not written or described in historical accounts. By turning to literary sources, Emori and Fukutō can help compensate for the lack of historical documents pertaining to family and the marriage system. For many scholars who use this approach, literature remains a secondary, or sub-text, categorized as fictional and inaccurate, in contrast to ʻhistoricalʼ works which are seen as more accurate and reliable for historical inquiry. Frequently, the use of literary works must be ʻjustified,ʼ as if the scholar is attempting to argue a text can be useful in spite of its being literary in character. Emori, for instance, admits that the approach he employs cannot but invite criticism about the accuracy of the information derived from literature, but defends his method, writing “Although this tale contains a lot of fictional elements, we could say that it still presents us with a useful source to examine marriage, the family system, and the position of women in the time of Sekkan Seiji,”(14) Ōsumi Kazuo, another scholar, says when discussing setsuwa that he does not 5 Rieko Kamei-Dyche evaluate them highly as historical materials. However, he argues, regardless of their low quality as historical materials, they can be useful in terms of helping us to put together a more concrete view of society at the time.(15) His placement of literature here is as a subordinate source that can be used to aid other historical accounts. The categorization of literature as fictional and inaccurate, and its correspondingly subordinate rank vis-a-vis historical sources, led scholars to be wary while using it, keeping in mind that it did not represent truly reliable ʻhistory,ʼ Throughout this perspective is the assumption of a historical account to which parts of secondary, less reliable literary texts are attached, either to fill in the blanks or substantiate a broader theory about a time period. That the ʻpartial useʼ approach can be helpful, however, is acknowledged even by scholars who would rather view the literary work as a whole衽for one thing, this is an easy way to convince other historians of the immediate relevance of literature to their studies. Kuroda, for example, notes that by reading monogatari or sōshi as “historical materials,” we can access significant aspects of history which we simply cannot find in komonjo or the historical record.(16) By analyzing and interpreting literary works as historical materials, Kuroda opens up a new prospect for historical studies : he indicates that no matter what kind of pictorial work he found, he would try to read and analyze it as a “historical material.”(17) The ʻpartial useʼ of literary texts is one of the most common approaches historians employ when using literature, because it is immediately useful : it enables them to consult a text and take out pieces which support a historical theory or provide information missing from conventional sources. Although a tale may be fictional, elements in the tale in reference to everything from social structures to fashion or weapons may be historically accurate. However, there are problems with this approach as well. Gomi Fumihiko is very positive about using literary works in historical studies, and criticizes how “...historical research regards such literary works as things which have very low value as historical materials, which just add an examination of the extent to which they can be confirmed by other historical materials.”(18) Gomi complains that this approach is akin to “cherry-picking,” and is based on a timid attitude衲 historians have little confidence using literature due to the fictional element, because they know they will be heavily criticized unless they can back up their theories with other, more “trustworthy” historical materials. He makes the same criticism in his book on Heike Monogatari.(19) Ōsumi is also skeptical, indicating how literary sources are not really reliable if we need information, but attributing the fault not to the literary text but to the approach through which the text is utilized. He takes kikō bungaku (travel literature) as an example, and points out that 6 Sailing Between Two Seas works in this genre were not actually intended to describe travel concretely. Consequently, he explains, we can extract from them much less information about the various aspects of travel, or details about scenery, than we might expect.(20) By and large, travel literature was not written based on the authorʼs actual experiences accompanied by their descriptions (as in European travel literature), and therefore approaching it from a ʻpartial-usageʼ viewpoint seeking snippets of information may not prove particularly helpful. However, other approaches might prove much more productive. Ōsumi suggests that, as kikō bungaku did not have as its primary aim the recording of travel, attempting to shoehorn it into something it is not is self-defeating : we should instead make an effort to read history in what the literary work itself actually is, in addition to pursuing efforts to extract pieces of historical data from the work.(21) Ōsumi thus offers a positive reading of literature, where the work is approached based on what it is and not what it lacks. As a result, although Ōsumi argues that the travel literature in medieval Japan is largely literary and based on idealized or archetypal descriptions, he does not dismiss it from the ranks of historical materials. Rather, he emphasizes that because of its conceptual nature, it could be an important and useful body of historical material to prompt insight into the characteristics of the contemporary society and culture. This is a viewpoint which Gomi develops further, as I will discuss in the subsequent section. Generally, as Gomi noted, with literature branded as simply ʻfictional,ʼ historians are reluctant to make extensive use of the texts, preferring to take pieces which fill in gaps in the historical record or suit their particular argument. While it is by no means a mistake to draw out images or particular information from literature衲although it can be of limited use, as Ōsumi warns衲so long as we treat literature as just a body of “fictional, non-historical materials,” we are limiting the potential of such sources. We have to admit that this is a rather short-sighted approach that reduces literature to a cache of information from which we pick out something we find to be relatively useful. Furthermore, so long as we approach literature in this way, we cannot be free from the persistent question of whether the information extracted is in fact accurate. One attempt to go beyond this is a second broad approach which I will call ʻcomparative.ʼ This approach focuses on examining the difference between the images and information presented in various historical accounts and those depicted in literary works. This is another way of using literature in history : one compares how someone or something is depicted in historical and literary accounts, and see what can be concluded from the difference between the 7 Rieko Kamei-Dyche depictions. However, this approach is also normally based on ʻessentializingʼ the fictional nature of literature, to which a ʻtrueʼ history is contrasted. For example, Fukutō Sanae examines the difference in the image of Jōtōmonʼin Shōshi(22) as depicted in Eiga Monogatari and in historical reality as based on other documents. She concludes that Eiga Monogatari, as it does not mention Jōtōmonʼ in Shōshiʼs political aspects, reflects the image of women which was expected at the time, based on the nature of the literary genre.(23) The portrayal in Eiga Monogatari was thus tailored to suit both social expectations and audience demand. Another example is Fujimoto Katsuyoshi, who finds, and attempts to bridge, a gap between literary description and historical account in depictions of Onryō in the Heian Period.(24) In a similar vein, Naoki Kōjirō compares the image of Iwano-hime(25) in Man’yōshū and Kojiki, two literary texts,(26) and then proceeds to examine the cause of the difference between these images.(27) Although the objects of inquiry are different (Fukutō and Fujimoto are comparing literature and history, whereas Naoki is comparing works of literature), the method employed is similar. Each scholar considers the historical context, such as the political situation, and develops their argument by, amongst other methods, considering the process of compilation of the literary work in question. This process is then used to explain the nature of the depiction used by the work, and why this differs from that of the standard historical sources. As Ōsumi aptly stated, “People who are asked about the relationship between history and literature will think about the difference most of the time.”(28) This tendency appears to be hardwired in the modern mind, which, even if it can comprehend that history and literature were not considered separately in the past, appears to be overly concerned with differences. That we tend to assume a difference at all may testify to the continuation of assumptions based on positivism lurking in the background. This tendency, which then seeks out confirmation of those differences rather than treating depictions holistically, in turn causes us to perpetuate the image of sharp divisions between history and literature that may obscure our understanding. The common thread in the approaches discussed in this section is that literary works are not seen as works per se, but as data sources to append or reinforce historical records, or something that can be compared to the “facts.” A historical account is compared to a literary account to see why the same events were described differently, with the literary account usually being expected to justify its portrayal in some way. The historical account, meanwhile, is assumed to require no such defense. Thus, these approaches are normally not seriously engaged with literature ; rather, they 8 Sailing Between Two Seas reflect a convenient, partial use of literature, and assume that literature occupies a position lower than that of history. Literary texts are merely used to enforce historical views or support historical records, which are considered the primary bedrock of arguments. III. Part 1 : Alternative Views of Integrating History and Literature We have already seen that there are various ways of using literature in historical studies. However, most of them tend to view literature as a subordinate source of less value than ʻstandardʼ historical materials, and only of real relevance when used in conjunction with them. Must literature, however, be satisfied with this position ? I suggest that, in the same way that historical documents need to be critically evaluated, and approached through methods developed to utilize them effectively, so too do literary sources deserve fair criticism, expanded reading, and the formulation of appropriate methods. Generally, historians do not engage with literature positively or carry out textual criticism in a positive manner, but instead critique it for not being something which it was never intended to be衲a historical account. Rather than viewing literature as a subordinate source, if we are to view literature for historical purposes, we must recognize that literature has its own value and deserves to be critiqued properly on its own merits. It is useful to not only consider literature as a secondary form of historical material used to provide convenient evidence, but to also read literature as a text in its own right, and see what historical issues emerge. That is to say, we should consider seeing what historical themes or questions emerge from a serious engagement with literature. This has the potential to lead to a better integration of history and literature without necessarily making one subordinate to the other. It is from similar considerations that some of the approaches which I will discuss in this section likely emerged. The common assumption in the previous section was one of turning to literature with particular questions in mind, or in search of something useful for marshalling support for a theory. In this section, however, I will discuss alternative approaches which are more concerned with reading literature first and then seeing what issues arise from this engagement with the sources. Rather than dismissing literature like the positivistic historians of the early twentieth century, or seeing literature as some lesser receptacle from which historical tidbits can be extracted (as in the ʻpartial useʼ approach), these approaches consider literary works as a whole and see what historical insight they offer. Indeed, this prospect has been raised by scholars who observed that reading the text as an information source to append or inform the historical record was different from reading it as a 9 Rieko Kamei-Dyche whole, and that the latter could provide new forms of insight. Consider Togawa Tomoru : If we understand the limitations, gunki or setsuwa can also be a great information pool to provide us with things which we cannot get from komonjo or kokiroku. Of course, not only is there that kind of use, but furthermore, we can approach the sensibility of the time when the work was produced by analyzing the work as a whole.(29) The approaches in this section take this concern to the next step. Rather than starting from historical contexts and turning to literature to find answers, they start from the work itself and draw out historical issues. In doing so, they make use of the work as a lens through which to enter the world of the past. Kuroda Hideo, who I discussed in the previous section, also provides a fine example of one such approach grounded in the literary source itself. Kuroda shows how even otogizōshi (akin to fables or fairy tales) can develop historical questions. This is not a profound postulation from Kurodaʼs perspective, because he believes that otogizōshi and history both share a common identity as forms of monogatari.(30) For example, Kuroda reads Neko no Sōshi (A Tale of Cats) and finds evidence of social history issues there. The tale describes the relationship between cats, rats, and dogs which started with the issuing of a law to release the cats from captivity in Kyoto. The people were very happy with this new law, because as a result, they no longer suffered damage from rats. The cats enjoyed their freedom, while the rats were forced to hide or escape. However, at this juncture a monk in upper Kyoto had a dream in which an old rat appeared and complained about the poor lives the rats now lived. The monk felt sympathy towards the rats, but told them why they were so hated. In the midst of the rat explaining how elder rats were attempting to convince younger rats not to do bad things unnecessarily, the monk woke up. The following day, a cat appeared in the monkʼ s dream, and told him, by way of explaining the origin of cats, why his mercy for the rats was pointless. The monk tried to convince the cat to have his fellows stop killing rats, but failed. The cat told him that it was simply the fundamental nature of cats to kill rats. Upon awaking from the dream, then dozing during the dawn, the monk dreamed of the old rat again, who told him that the rats had decided to leave Kyoto for Ōmi because even if they were able to avoid being killed by the cats, they would still not be able to get any food. This turn of events was regrettable, the rat continued, but the cats were also sometimes hurt by dogs, so perhaps in the end things were more or less fair. The monk did not tell anyone about his dreams 10 Sailing Between Two Seas except his closest friend. The final remarks in the tale reflect on how the law freeing the cats was indeed wonderful because the number of rats had significantly decreased, and as a result people did not need to worry about things being stolen by rats, or rats scurrying around near their pillows at night.(31) Kuroda writes that it is possible to interpret the tale in various ways. He pays particular attention to the damage caused by the rats, and how the people of Kyoto were delighted with a law which resulted in their experiencing much less of this damage. Here he finds problems of urbanization and city development in a socio-historical context.(32) His perspective is strengthened by reading the tale alongside other tales in which rats appear as main characters. He concludes that the changing relationship between rats, cats, and dogs as depicted in the tale reveals the problems inherent in increasing urbanization and city life from medieval times through to the early modern era.(33) Kurodaʼs study is instructive. If we were just looking at the cats and dogs with previouslydetermined historical questions in mind, we would have missed the broader historical issue which emerges from reading the text as a whole with an open mind. Kurodaʼs example is a powerful one because Neko no Sōshi makes no pretenses to anything other than pure fiction, but we can see through his efforts how even fictional writings can lead us to significant historical questions. Both Gomi Fumihiko and Hyōdō Hiromi are also attempting to move beyond the shortsighted conflation of literature and pure fiction. They share the view that just because elements of a work are fictional does not mean that it cannot offer insight into the world of the people who created it. Both of these scholars see literature as an effective tool to gain new insight into the world of the past. When dealing with Tsurezuregusa and Heike Monogatari, which are his main case studies, Gomi does not focus on the accuracy of the works. Putting aside the ʻpartial-useʼ mode discussed earlier, he embraces the works as a whole. In doing so, like Kuroda he breaks free of the reductionist pattern which conflates literature with fiction and then downplays it as less useful for historical studies. Instead, Gomi, seeking new ways to access the time period in question, attempts to read the work holistically and see its contents through the eyes of the author or compiler. In trying to move into their perspective and see their world through their eyes, and ascertain their memory and history, Gomi is offering the author as a lens into the past. His primary concern is understanding contemporary people at the time, and how they saw their world and historical experience. “Memory,” understood as history lived through the 11 Rieko Kamei-Dyche contemporary people, thus takes center stage as an important concept. Gomi also pays particular attention to where the information which served as sources for a given description emerged from, and how the author accessed, selected, and used these sources. This offers further insight into what materials contemporaries drew on, and the perspectives they adopted in their writing. Gomi puts his theory into action by starting directly from the text. He points out that we can better understand Kenkōʼs time as one during which three different cultures were competing when we read three stories which appear to be discussing each of these cultures separately衲Kyoto, Kamakura, and the continent衲in Tsurezuregusa, where the three stories were placed together.(34) Likewise, Gomi groups together the stories concerning the same time period when reading Tsurezuregusa, which makes it possible for us to “read” the time and human experience through the eyes of Kenkō. Through this reading strategy, Gomi enables a fresh and more thoughtful experience of the time when Kenkō lived.(35) Through reading Tsurezuregusa in this way, Gomi shows how the contemporary thoughts and concerns of the time can be revealed. I believe that through understanding how contemporaries viewed history, and how these historical perspectives informed their writing, we can not only better understand how they perceived their world衲intellectually, politically, and socially衲but also develop more effective ways of using the literary sources which are based on these perspectives. Likewise, in dealing with Heike Monogatari Gomi approaches the text as a purely “historical material” and tries to find out what sort of historical view is to be found therein.(36) As he did with Tsurezureguza, Gomi tries to understand how the author(s) or compiler(s) of the Heike in the medieval era viewed their society and the events both before and during their own time. Here too the method can open a new perspective on the time period by viewing it through contemporary eyes, and further illustrates the value of using literary materials for intellectual history. Broadly, we can say that Gomiʼs approach offers a new perspective to Kamakura intellectual history by genuinely, through the text, trying to see the world of the past through the eyes of contemporary people. Through this lens, we can connect to those contemporaries and begin to understand how they viewed history and the world around them. Hyōdō also uses literary works as lenses to the past, but his specific focus is on the historical perspective(37) which is presented in the work. For example, the historical perspective in the case of Heike Monogatari and Taiheiki, which are the two texts with which Hyōdō engages, is built around the notion of the Taira-Minamoto transition.(38) Not only does Hyōdō aim at studying this historical perspective at the time of the workʼs composition, but he goes further 12 Sailing Between Two Seas and attempts to trace how it influenced later society, especially with regard to political transition. The accounts of people and events within the works themselves are understood not as a passive reflection of the happenings and moirés of a time period, but instead as an active force which exerted considerable influence in later times. How did the historical perspective conveyed in these works construct subsequent Japanese history ? Hyōdō explains that in the Muromachi Period, Taiheiki was used as a canonical text to legitimate the political structure of the time ; similarly, Heike Monogatari functioned as a source of mythic legitimacy in the transition of Muromachi political history to legitimate the Hōjō and Ashikaga families. In this way, the “literary” account of the Heike itself established historical precedent, just as the historical perspective of Taiheiki continued to appear as part of lived history until the Edo period. The historical perspective behind these literary texts had become a reality which was drawn upon to justify political regimes. The Ashikaga familyʼs view of history was rooted in the Taira-Minamoto transition as depicted in the structure of these literary texts, and by calling upon this historical framework to justify taking power, the Ashikaga effectively ʻactualizedʼ the literary accounts.(39) In sum, Hyōdō situates the texts in a broad history of Japan, and shows how the historical perspectives portrayed in literary works could create “real history” in later times.(40) For Gomi and Hyōdō, a sustained reading of the text comes first and foremost. Both attempt to see how the author and their contemporaries viewed history, a type of approach that only becomes possible when one engages in a deep reading of the work. Both scholars are also concerned with locating the role of the literary work in history, and consequently approach the work itself as an agent in history and not just as a passive source. The work as a whole is understood as possessing its own historical existence which must be appreciated, and it is imperative for Gomi and Hyōdō to locate the historical perspective behind the work in order to understand this. Clearly, of the two it is Hyōdō who is more concerned with placing the approach in a broader historical context, by seeing how the historical perspective in the work affected later society and how some monogatari became “real history.”(41) Fundamentally, however, Gomi and Hyōdō are united not just by their view of the primacy of the text, but also by their use of the work as a lens through which to see how people at the time perceived their world, which is an important move towards understanding how those contemporaries saw and understood historical developments in their own time and how this was related to history. Gomi brings us back into the time when the work was produced, and his focus is set squarely on uncovering peopleʼs views at the time. Hyōdō brings the work into later 13 Rieko Kamei-Dyche times by discussing its influence and how the historical perspective in the work became actualized, so his focus is more on the historical perspective itself. Kuroda also discusses an approach similar to that of Gomi and Hyōdō, but instead of seeing how the author viewed history or what kind of historical perspective lies behind the work, Kuroda is concerned with ideology. He seeks to find the ideology behind otogizōshi, through reading a work, taking stock of the ideology that emerges from this work, and then attempting to understand how this ideology would have been understood by people at the time. This is significant because ideology both reflected society at the time, and shaped the minds of contemporaries.(42) This point warrants some reflection. Generally, in approaching a work of literature we can see how it reflects the views of its time, but for the contemporary audience it not only reflected their views but influenced them as well. This two-dimensional aspect of works tends to be forgotten, or reduced to simplistic schemes charting the influence of works upon each other. Historically, however, those works also shaped the mindset of readers and aspects of contemporary society, making it essential to understand literature as possessing historical agency. In this respect, Kuroda performs a valuable service in locating the ideologies at work behind stories as a doorway into how people at the time understood their world. Unlike Hyōdō, Kuroda does not suggest that an ideology he locates necessarily affects later eras ; instead, he is concerned with how it was understood by contemporary people, and in what ways it may have informed their behavior. For an example, we can consider his discussion of Onzōshi Shimawatari, which is another otogizōshi. In this tale, Kuroda identifies an emphasis on the notion of a pledge carried over three lifetimes as an ideological theme behind the tale. The tale chronicles the adventures of Minamoto Yoshitsune as he tries to obtain a secret doctrine of military tactics. There are many story patterns which form the framework of the tale, such as the heroʼs itinerancy in foreign lands, and how Yoshitsune manages to obtain the doctrine through his wife, who is a daughter of the king who had been keeping the doctrine. To persuade his wife to steal the doctrine from her father, Yoshitsune tells her that the pledge between a husband and wife lasts for two lifetimes, whereas the relation between parent and child, while deep and important, lasts for but one. In short, Yoshitsune made use of the ethical concept that a wife should administer first and foremost to her husband, in order to persuade his wife to help him. Ultimately, this proved fatal for her, but because he was able to obtain the doctrine Yoshitsune was able to obtain victory in his battles and create the contemporary world in which the Minamoto ruled.(43) Kuroda argues that the late medieval period was a time of complex tension, politically, 14 Sailing Between Two Seas socially, religiously, and ideologically. In these circumstances, a social order which gave priority to lord-retainer and mentor-apprentice relations had begun to be established. Once such an ideology was spread and internalized in the contemporary consciousness through literature, it came to be formalized and subsequently shaped peopleʼs political, social, and religious behavior even at the commoner level.(44) If we follow Kurodaʼs reading of the text he provides as an example, then, it becomes clear that this ideological concern was mapped onto family relations and responsibilities. By justly prioritizing her loyalty to her husband, Yoshitsuneʼs wife enabled him to bring about the socio-political order in which the readers of the tale were situated. Her sacrifice for her husband is thus framed as both an ethical, and historical, necessity. In the approaches covered in this section, emphasis is placed on starting with the literature itself as a portal into the mindset and conceptual world of contemporary people. Rather than approaching literary works with pre-defined historical questions which reduce the text to merely a collection of data, these scholars assess the text as a whole and attempt to chart what historical issues arise from the text itself. While their particular perspectives differ, Kuroda, Gomi, and Hyōdō are all concerned with using literature as a medium, or lens, through which to enter the world of the past and see how contemporary people viewed their world. In doing so, they are able to glean valuable historical insight into how contemporaries perceived their past and present. III. Part 2 : The Importance of Reading Literature Holistically Kuroda, Gomi, and Hyodo all built approaches upon the concept of taking the literary work as a whole instead of using it in a fragmentary manner or superficially as an information source. Their perspective thus highlights the importance of thoroughly reading literature, and treating it as fundamentally literary in character. This necessitates breaking down simple dichotomies between “history” and “literature,” when what we are really talking about is the function and character of the work in question. To be literary is not to be ahistorical, although literary texts function differently from, for instance, government documents衾the latter, conversely, may have a literary element, but this element is not fundamental to their function and character. We can draw two conclusions from this. First, to dismiss literature as inherently fictional, as some historians continue to do, is to neglect the historical insight those sources offer, as well as the important role of those sources as historical forces which influenced the ideas and behavior of both contemporaries and subsequent generations of readers. Second, if we are to make use of literary materials, it is imperative that these texts are approached as literature and not as 15 Rieko Kamei-Dyche collections of data or images in a sequence衲the reading strategies employed for official records are ill-suited to literary works and tend to miss or obscure much of the historical insight that the works could offer. In this part of the article, I will continue to examine some recent approaches and the issues they raise, by considering their emphasis on reading literature. By “reading literature” I mean conceptualizing and analyzing a text as a whole instead of scanning it for useful fragments or approaching it merely from the vantage point of seeking answers to questions formulated elsewhere.(45) One example of a new perspective emerging from approaching a work as a whole is Gomiʼs approach to Azuma Kagami. This work has normally been treated as a historical chronicle, but Gomi approaches it as a ʻworkʼ in order to discover its framework, departing from the traditional method of just consulting it to glean particular information. Through developing such an analysis of Azuma Kagami, Gomi finds a strong theme of regicide, which the work shares with Soga Monogatari, a tale. By uncovering a theme shared by both a work of historical writing and a work of literature, Gomi is able to offer a foundation for fresh insights by situating these two works together as a pair.(46) Thus, the identification of shared themes between what may have been previously considered largely unconnected works is one of the possible benefits to be gained by historians reading literary works holistically. Similarly, reading the text in its original form and understanding the language of the time within its context is extremely important. The historian who in the pursuit of historical particulars depends upon modern translations or abridged summaries of works of literature is putting his or her trust entirely in the readings of whoever produced those. Moreover, even if it is standard practice to make use of a version of a text with character readings or printed text, new possibilities can emerge by returning to the original text. In this regard, Kishi Toshio stresses how it is important to read the original text fully and directly to gain insight. He calls our attention to the importance of reading Man’yōshū in the original Man’yōgana, not in kundoku form, because this opens our eyes to new issues.(47) If we are to make serious use of a text, there is no substitute for direct engagement with that text to the utmost of our ability.(48) Gomi, meanwhile, emphasizes the importance of language from another perspective. When working with Tsurezuregusa, he pays attention to the grammar Kenkō uses, and points out that a story which we had believed to be about a person in the past is actually about someone in his (Kenkōʼs) own time. We can tell this is the case because in relaying this particular episode Kenkō does not use hearsay grammar, which he consistently does when talking about 16 Sailing Between Two Seas something in the past.(49) Gomi thereby forces us to re-examine our views of the time, which we had constructed based on such incorrect understandings. Gomi and Kishi demonstrate that it is essential to directly encounter the original text and experience the original writing in its context, not only to gain insight and raise new historical issues, but also to avoid misinterpretation or projection. A similar point is suggested by the work of Naoki Kōjirō, who questions the traditional interpretation of waka #3354 in the classical poetry anthology Man’yōshū.(50) The poem is normally understood to mean “As the bedclothes of the people in the Kihe region [in Tōtoumui] contain much cotton, so do I wish to be much in the bed of my beloved.” However, by using his historical knowledge, Naoki reveals that cotton (綿) actually meant “floss” in the Nara period. It was a precious commodity, and so it becomes difficult to hold that floss would be used extensively in bedclothes among the people of Tōtoumi, because it was a rather remote location. Based on this knowledge, Naoki then re-focuses the grammar of the poem, and suggests it should instead be understood as follows : “The bedclothes of the people in the Kihe region contain little floss, but if there were (more) it would be nice. Likewise, I wish I could be much in the bed of my beloved (although I cannot).”(51) Naokiʼs example is instructive. It demonstrates how the combination of historical knowledge and literature can offer new insights, but it also illustrates once again the importance of reading the work by oneself, because if one counts on othersʼ readings it could cause, or perpetuate, misunderstandings, something that Naoki admits happened to him initially. The importance of approaching a work of literature as a whole, and not just in piecemeal fashion, and of considering that whole within its historical context, extends beyond the text itself, as Kuroda illustrates in relation to the pictorial aspects of otogizōshi. The illustrations for otogizōshi were not intended to merely supplement the text, nor to just explain it, but instead were located on a more fundamental level, and the understanding of the text itself can differ depending on whether they are present or not.(52) Perhaps the same might be said of a historical mode that does not take into account literature, or vice-versa. Hence, in discussing otogizōshi, Kuroda calls our attention to the importance of illustrations, and the importance of reading the text together with its accompanying illustration since both of them create the world of otogizōshi together, and both are in fact fundamental elements.(53) In fact, he goes so far as to spend an entire chapter of his monograph discussing the “code” needed to read the illustrations. To approach such a text shorn of its illustrations, then, is to fundamentally alter the experience of the text, and lead the historian down the wrong path. The same caution applies to literary works which were developed not only in written form, 17 Rieko Kamei-Dyche but also in recited form, such as Heike Monogatari or Taiheiki. The difference in the content, organization, language use, and development, spread, and audience, between the yomihon and katarihon are crucial衲all together create the “world” of Heike Monogatari. We cannot discuss Heike Monogatari as a work without taking all of these factors into consideration. Even if we are familiar with Heike Monogatari only in written form, we cannot ignore the element of recitation, for both not only characterized the reception of the work, but moreover are intrinsic components of the nature of Heike Monogatari itself. Like Gomi, Kishi, and Naoki, Kuroda emphasizes the importance of the basic work, and the necessity of deciphering words, grasping each word and the meaning of a sentence, when reading and interpreting old historical documents. In reading works of literature, moreover, an accurate understanding of language is just as, if not more, essential. Kuroda emphasizes how the misunderstanding of a word could lead us to the wrong conclusion.(54) This emphasis on the work and its particular components and structure reminds us of the importance of beginning with a text rather than a preconceived issue or theory. Kurodaʼs own study provides an excellent example of this principle in practice. Kuroda starts from a primary text, using the literary work to suggest issues in history instead of picking through it for pieces of information. Kuroda puts the text first, indicating that instead of trying to find “facts” in literature, he looks for “facts” in the conversation between sources.(55) Since no work is without context, uncovering how texts respond to each other and ideas at the time can tell us a lot about a historical period. Clearly, historians need to consider how to approach these works, and approach recitations, artwork, and other media as well, instead of approaching them through the same methods we normally do, as if they were stacks of historical records. It is essential for historians to question the forms of reading strategies they employ, and devise approaches appropriate to the form and character of the work under consideration. As Kuroda observes, “Pictures and literature are both ʻworks [of art]ʼ ; they are different from old documents or recorded diaries which historians regularly deal with.”(56) Moreover, such works “are representations, so when we read them as “historical materials” it is assumed that we cannot see straight ʻfacts or historical facts.ʼ”(57) Therefore, as Kuroda suggests, we should not limit ourselves to using literature in the same sense that we use historical materials. Seeking to develop new readings of literature in historical research will in turn open up new readings of historical materials as well, making it a doubly-beneficial prospect. Thus, it is important not only to think of literary works as a whole, but also to avoid approaching them in the same way as historical records. As I discussed above, however, this 18 Sailing Between Two Seas does not mean there is a dichotomy between two different types of text with their appropriate ways of reading them. The character and function of texts varies, and while we can speak of a “literary” quality, this is something in which all texts to some extent participate to varying degrees. The more literary a text is, the further it is removed from the possibilities of literal readings which may be sufficient for official documents and the like. Reading methodologies should therefore depend upon the function and character of the text. This is ultimately not an abstract matter so much as a practical one, in that we cannot interpret a work of art, for example, in the same way as a text because the structure is different. In a similar way, we need to be aware of the differences between historical records and various forms of literature before we can make use of them effectively. It would be a mistake to assume on this basis that on a broader level the categories of ʻliteratureʼ and ʻhistoryʼ are mutually exclusive. Indeed, Kuroda recognizes the limitations of categorization of texts (for it is ultimately merely used for expedience), but at the same time, he reiterates that there is a world of otogizōshi that can be an important clue if we can understand it.(58) However, we have to be careful not to accept or depend on categories or genres without question, since this might restrict our reading衲by making it harder for us to move beyond conventional readings and our own predispositions toward the text衲in the name of convenience. As the categorization of texts was carried out largely by subsequent generations after the fact, and readings can differ depending on what those generations focused on as the defining qualities of each category and genre, we should question whether we wish to follow their prejudices when we approach texts. Through attempting to transcend these sorts of boundaries, like those between “history” and “literature,” the scholars I have discussed in this section make an important contribution not only towards formulating deeper and more comprehensive understandings of the past as seen from the perspective of the people at the time, but also towards making us rethink our own approaches and systems of categorization which, if we do not question them and become aware of their limitations, may ultimately cause us more harm than good. IV. Reflections : Categorization as a Double-edged Sword Given their intertwined past, should history and literature continue to exist as distinct fields of scholarship within the academy ? Moreover, should we continue to perpetuate this dichotomy even with regards to the materials we use ? I would argue that the two fields, as academic disciplines, do not necessarily have to be together as they may have been in the past, but in terms of considering the texts themselves, the distinction between whether a work is literary or 19 Rieko Kamei-Dyche historical seems to depend more on the ends of the person approaching the text, the approach employed, and the development of oneʼs arguments. It appears that there is no need for the materials themselves to answer to such a categorical distinction. For instance, works of literature are normally categorized into distinct genres, but this categorization is based on the perpetuation of a certain “fixed” reading in the past. If we ask whether or not these categories represent the real nature of the work, and whether or not they represent the work in its entirety rather than one aspect thereof, our answers must be ambiguous indeed. Much the same could be said of the divisions between literature and history. ʻLiteratureʼ and ʻHistoryʼ are not clearly divided as fields or genres so much as categories of analysis. These categories can be helpful, but they are a double-edged sword. By shaping our thinking and making us comfortable with these divisions, they make it difficult to cross these boundaries. It is the very nature of categories to limit their contents, and in so doing they make it difficult for us as historians to approach a range of works with an open mind. Categories are helpful to quickly identify and understand a workʼs place within a context that indicates certain characteristics and generalizations, but these same categories can limit our perspectives on that work, which is why I call them a double-edged sword. History itself, in the broadest sense as the sum of human experience of the past, moves along without regard for the lines of boundaries and restrictions imposed by genre or field. It is in attempting to make sense of the broad sweep of human knowledge that later scholars impose these limitations. It is therefore likely that literary scholars and historians often have difficulty getting along because of their different approaches to, and assumptions concerning, categorization of this knowledge. That their broader perspectives aim at different things should not prevent them from learning from each other, and questioning the categories which anyone applies to texts衲in the final analysis, no scholar has, nor should be permitted, a monopoly on a given text. The limitations imposed by categorization are much greater, after all, than the limitations of using literature in historical research, which is something else to consider. There is nothing to stop us broadening our viewpoint or taking alternative perspectives beyond those proscribed by the categories within which we have been conditioned to view history and literature. Thus, the problem may not be the nature of the work so much as the nature of the scholars ; Kuroda remarks that literary scholars (kokubungakusha) probably think that historiansʼ reading of literature is truly simple, while historians think that literary scholarsʼ reading of historical materials is just based on emotion.(59) Like him, we should attempt to move beyond this. 20 Sailing Between Two Seas Conclusion The emphasis on the text which New Criticism offered was effective in that it turned our attention back to the key element of literary inquiry. However, this was accompanied by a significant drawback. We should recall that the positivistic history most associated with von Ranke played an important role in terms of emphasizing objectivity and the critical engagement of sources, but resulted in restricting the possibilities of historical studies due to the dismissal of other, “non-historical” sources which were exemplified by literature. Similarly, New Criticism studies of literature, which ignored other aspects surrounding the text such as historical background and considered only the text itself, stressed the importance of carefully “reading” the text, but also ended up dismissing the possibility of new readings based on other factors which could enhance and deepen our understanding of the text. The delicate balance between text and context is an important matter for historians, who must rely on texts for insight into the past, to consider. In this article I attempted to set forth some of the key issues concerning the use of literature in historical studies, through examining some of the approaches employed by recent Japanese scholars. Having set out the origins of the modern division between history and literature in the academy in the first section, in the second I examined several ways that scholars attempted to bring literature back to historical research. The approaches in the second section saw historians turn to literary works as a source for information or a point of comparison with historical accounts, and were therefore limited engagements with literary texts. On the other hand, the approaches covered in the third section recognized the value of literature itself, and drew out historical issues from literary works themselves. Thus, while in the second section a historical question was followed by turning to literature (so that the movement was from the historical context to the text) in the third section the literature was followed by the development of historical questions (so that the movement was from the text to the historical context). Critical engagement with literature from a historical viewpoint can raise new historical questions and overturn previous assumptions, particularly regarding how people in the past perceived the world around them. We should therefore directly go to the original texts and see what they can tell us about the concepts and perspectives of people at the time, and we should not be afraid to attempt fresh readings, because depending on our own time and context, we can discover different historical insights. While there are indeed many ways of incorporating 21 Rieko Kamei-Dyche literature into historical studies, the greatest potential of this endeavor may be yet to come. It is my hope that my engagement with the approaches developed so far, and the possibilities such efforts offer, will prompt other scholars to delve into literary works and encourage further thinking about the relationship between literature and history. Notes ⑴ Kuroda Hideo, Rekishi to shiteno Otogizōshi (Tokyo : Perikansha, 1996), 14. ⑵ Ibid., 15-16. ⑶ Kimura Shigemitsu, “Ōkagami no Jidai Ninshiki ni Kansuru Oboegaki,” Rekishi Hyōron 637 (2003. 5): 21-32 ; 22. ⑷ Positivist historiography, as understood by late nineteenth-century historians, meant strict adherence to empirical methods that rejected any account or source that could not be thoroughly verified. While ostensibly inspired by the principles of logical positivism, it was much vaguer in character. These historians were not concerned with participating in the philosophical debates of the time, but rather with challenging the classical methodology of literary historians and philologists. ⑸ Leopold von Ranke, cited in Hyōdō Hiromi, “Maegaki : Rekishi Jojutsu no Kindai to Fikushon,” Fiction ka Rekishi ka (Tokyo : Iwanami Shoten, 2002), 4. In English, see Leopold von Ranke, ed. Georg G. Iggers, The Theory and Practice of History (London : Routledge, 2010). ⑹ Hyōdō mentions that such a style of historical writing had already begun in Japan more than a century before the historiography of Ranke was introduced to the country in late 1880 ; he offers as examples Motoori Norinagaʼs studies on the Kojiki (which were carried out through the positivistic method associated with kokugaku), and the Great Japanese History compiled by the Mito domain. From there, his argument moves on to national history and related issues. At the broadest level, of course, we might think of, for example, Plato or Confucius, who drew clear distinctions between true and untrue writings and may have been critical of writing which was aimed at entertainment instead of intellectual insight. However, this is not the focus of this article, since I am concerned with the integration of history and literature in modern academia, and so I will not go any further here. ⑺ During the prewar era, some scholars followed highly nationalistic, literalist readings of foundational texts like Kojiki ; this was part of a more general trend in society at the time to reinforce the “sacred” history of the tennō. However, most historians remained critical of the mythic history accounts, and some were lambasted for refusing to accept these accounts as true. The most famous case was that of Tsuda Sōkichi, who was dragged into court over his Kojiki oyobi Nihonshoki no Shinkenkyū (republished in Tsuda Sōkichi Zenshū, bekkan 1 (Tokyo : Iwanami Shoten, 1966)). ⑻ Tomiyama Takao, “Rekishi Kijutsu ha Dokomade Bungaku ka,” Fikushon to Rekishi (Tokyo : Iwanami Shoten, 2002), 20. ⑼ Ibid., 28. ⑽ Ibid. ⑾ Ibid. ⑿ Emori Itsuo, Monogatari ni Miru Kon’ in to Josei (Tokyo : Nihon Editor School Shuppanbu, 1990). Note that Emori is not a historian, but is engaged in historical research ; he claims to be employing a positivistic approach to at least some degree (最低限の実証的な研究 , p. 6), but this seems somewhat contradicted by his use of literature as a source at all. His statement on page 6衲that he needs to be a positivist to talk to historians, and so must describe how marriage is shown in the text衲suggests that 22 Sailing Between Two Seas his understanding of the issue, and the historical positivist rejection of the relevance of literature, is not very accurate. ⒀ Fukutō Sanae, Heianchō no Haha to Ko (Tokyo : Chuo Koronsha, 1994). ⒁ Emori, 16. ⒂ Ōsumi Kazuo, Chūsei Rekishi to Bungaku no Aida (Tokyo : Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 1993), 110. ⒃ Kuroda, 3. ⒄ Ibid., 4-5. ⒅ Gomi Fumihiko, Tsurezuregusa no Rekishigaku (Tokyo, Asahi Shinbunsha, 1997), 2nd ed., 9-10. ⒆ Gomi Fumihiko, Heike Monogatari, Shi to Setsuwa (Tokyo : Heibonsha, 1987). ⒇ Ōsumi, 271. O Ibid., 274. P Fujiwara no Shōshi (988-1074). She was a daughter of Fujiwara no Michinaga, became a queenconsort of Ichijō Tennō, and bore two princes, who later became Goichijō and Gosuzaku Tennō. Q Fukutō Sanae, “Eiga Monogatari to Jōtōmonʼin Shōshi” Rekishi Hyōron 637 (2003. 5): 33-43. R Fujimoto Katsuyoshi, Genji Monogatari no Mononoke : Bungaku to Kiroku no Aida (Tokyo : Kasama Shoten, 1995). T The queen-consort of Nintoku-Tennō. U Clearly, simply stating that Kojiki is “literature” might be cause for disagreement, but if we define “literature” in the broad sense, Kojiki can certainly be treated as a work of literature. In terms of its historical content, Kojiki is not generally understood by historians as depicting “objective history,” and its historical accuracy, despite the efforts of Motoori Norinaga, has long been questioned. For this reason, historians too have tended to consider it a more literary work. V Naoki Kōjirō, Yoru no Funade : Kodaishi kara Mita Man’yōshū (Tokyo : Hanawa Shobō, 1985). X Y Ōsumi, 2. Togawa Tomoru, “Gunki Monogatari ni Miru Shikei, Kyōshu” Rekishi Hyōron 637 (2003. 5): 54-64 ; 54. Z Kuroda, 15-16. [ The preceding summary of the tale was condensed from Kuroda, 24-28. \ Kuroda, 28-30. ] Ibid. ^ Gomi, Tsurezuregusa, 5. _ Ibid. ` Gomi, Heike, 3 (for example). a ｢歴史の枠組み｣(rekishi no wakugumi) : the framework, outline, or structure of history in the work. Basically, the historical perspective is the view of history that is presented in the work. b See primarily Hyōdō Hiromi, Taiheiki Yomi no Kanōsei (Tokyo : Kōdansha, 1997), 2nd ed. c Ibid., 11. d Hyōdō actually mentions Genji Monogatari in this regard as well, in Heike Monogatari no Rekishi to Geinō (Tokyo : Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2000). In this case, it is an even more literal example, where what was written in Genji emerged as actual tradition later, so that the literary themes became transformed into historical reality. That is to say, the events, customs, and concepts described in literature may become an actual lived reality that people draw upon as though they were drawing upon actual lived custom or traditions which had been handed down from their ancestors. e While at the broader level this might work for any work of literature from which we can extract a historical framework and articulate how the author/chronicler and their contemporaries viewed 23 Rieko Kamei-Dyche history, at a more specific level衲particularly as Hyōdō charts out how these frameworks can be used in later times衲this approach might be truly effective only if the literature in question is monogatari, such as Heike, Taiheiki, or Genji. f Kuroda, 171. g This is summarized from Kuroda, 149-160. h Kuroda, 171. i Of course, literary scholars themselves may fall prey to the temptation to consider literary works in fragmentary fashion or as mere repositories of details for the purpose of verifying a widely-held theory. j Gomi Fumihiko, Zōho Azuma Kagami no Hōhō : Jijitsu to Shinwa ni miru Chūsei (Tokyo : Yoshikawa Kōbunkan, 2000), 48-62. Gomi indicates that he got the idea from an English literary critic who was thinking of Frazerʼs The Golden Bough. k Kishi Toshio, Kodaishi kara Mita Man’yōshū (Tokyo : Gakuseisha, 1991), 201. l On a related note, I should point out that when we rely on kundoku, we are in essence relying upon someone elseʼs reading of the source text. Consequently, as with translations, bias or misreading could carry over. So while there is no harm in counting on such versions when reading a text for entertainment, if we are to actually read the work sincerely for historical insight it is essential for us to engage with the original text directly. m Gomi, Tsurezuregusa, 10. n Waka #3354 : ｢伎部人の斑衾に綿さはだ入りなましもの妹が小床に｣. p Naoki, Yoru no Funade, 280-285. q Kuroda, 55. r Ibid., 9. s Ibid., 13. t Ibid., 50. u Ibid., 288. v Ibid., 12. w Ibid., 7. x Ibid., 15-16. Bibliography Emori, Itsuo. Monogatari ni Miru Kon’ in to Josei. Tokyo : Nihon Editor School Shuppanbu, 1990. Fujimoto, Katsuyoshi. 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