What do you think?
Rate this book
Madly Singing in the Mountains: an Appreciation and Anthology of Arthur Waley
Book by
404 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1970
1 person is currently reading
52 people want to read
About the author
Ivan Morris
54 books31 followersIvan Ira Esme Morris (29 November 1925 – 19 July 1976) was a British author and teacher in the field of Japanese Studies.
Ivan Morris was born in London, of mixed American and Swedish parentage, to Ira Victor Morris and Edita Morris. He studied at Gordonstoun, before graduating from Phillips Academy. He began his study of Japanese language and culture at Harvard University, where he received a BA. He received a doctorate at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London. He wrote widely on modern and ancient Japan and translated numerous classical and modern literary works. Ivan Morris was one of the first interpreters sent into Hiroshima after the explosion of the bomb.
Ivan Morris was born in London, of mixed American and Swedish parentage, to Ira Victor Morris and Edita Morris. He studied at Gordonstoun, before graduating from Phillips Academy. He began his study of Japanese language and culture at Harvard University, where he received a BA. He received a doctorate at the School of Oriental and African Studies in London. He wrote widely on modern and ancient Japan and translated numerous classical and modern literary works. Ivan Morris was one of the first interpreters sent into Hiroshima after the explosion of the bomb.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
April 4, 2018
I loved this book so much!
It is split into a section where his friends and colleagues talk about him, a section where he talks about translation, a section of Chinese translations, a section of Japanese translations, a section of articles, and a section of original poems/fiction.
I liked the first section the best. His friends & colleagues paint the portrait of a man who did what he wanted to do in life. He didn't want to work for his cousin in a piano export business, so he followed leads from his friends until he ended up at the British Museum curating the Asian Art there, whereupon he taught himself Chinese and Japanese the better to do his job, and then started translating Chinese poems that he liked. He stayed there ~15 years then retired and spent the rest of his life living in London, translating what he wanted to translate, learning Ainu and Mongolian and other languages, listening to music, skiing, etc.
Of the rest of the book, I most enjoyed: his writings about translation (pp. 131-165 in my copy), "The Lady who Loved Insects", the essay where he snipes at Herbert Giles's translation, and "A Comparison of No with Greek Tragedy and Other Forms of Ancient Drama" (where he demonstrates how a western opera would be rewritten to fit the No conventions).
Favorite bits:
From Edith Sitwell: "...my sister-in-law and I , finding in the library a small and ancient book in an unknown tongue, placed it beside Mr. Waley's bed in the hope that he would confess himself defeated. Next morning... as he placed the book on the breakfast table he announced in a faint voice: 'Turskish. 18th century.' The pages were few; and after an interval of respect we enquired: 'What is it about?' Mr. Waley, with sudden animation: 'The Cat and the Bat. The Cat sat on the Mat. The Cat ate the Rat.' 'Oh, it is a child's book.' 'One would imagine so. One would _hope_ so!'..."
From Sacheverell Sitwell: "He would ask a friend of ours to come to tea 'and bring a book', and they would sit through the summer afternoon in the garden of Gordon Square without speaking a word"
From the editor's essay: "I am told that when Waley was informally asked whether he might accept the Chair in Chinese at Cambridge University vacated by the death of Professor Haloun, his immediate reaction was a murmured 'I would rather be dead.'"
Also from the editor's essay -- the section about being called upon to censor Japanese journalists during WWII, and I think I'm quoting too much so I won't here.
A recounting of the first time they met, ~30 years before they married, when he was 40, by his wife:
He: What do you want to do?
I: Write short stories
He: So do I. Do you write poetry?
I: Of course. Everybody does, surely?
He: What sort of poetry do you like?
I: Well... it used to be all, or nearly. But now it's spoilt a bit.
He: What DO you mean?
I: Well, I got hold of a book -- scarcely even that -- called "Poems from the Chinese". Translations. Part of a series. Published by Benn. I got not only it but all the poets -- Binyon, de la Mare, Blunden, everybody -- but "The Chinese" is the only one I brought twelve thousand miles. It's somehow made other kinds of poetry just... dull.
He: Who's the translator?
I: Waley, I think. Yes, Arthur Waley. Do you know him?
He: Yes.
I: Oh, how lucky you are -- you know everyone!
He: I... don't know him very well.
It is split into a section where his friends and colleagues talk about him, a section where he talks about translation, a section of Chinese translations, a section of Japanese translations, a section of articles, and a section of original poems/fiction.
I liked the first section the best. His friends & colleagues paint the portrait of a man who did what he wanted to do in life. He didn't want to work for his cousin in a piano export business, so he followed leads from his friends until he ended up at the British Museum curating the Asian Art there, whereupon he taught himself Chinese and Japanese the better to do his job, and then started translating Chinese poems that he liked. He stayed there ~15 years then retired and spent the rest of his life living in London, translating what he wanted to translate, learning Ainu and Mongolian and other languages, listening to music, skiing, etc.
Of the rest of the book, I most enjoyed: his writings about translation (pp. 131-165 in my copy), "The Lady who Loved Insects", the essay where he snipes at Herbert Giles's translation, and "A Comparison of No with Greek Tragedy and Other Forms of Ancient Drama" (where he demonstrates how a western opera would be rewritten to fit the No conventions).
Favorite bits:
From Edith Sitwell: "...my sister-in-law and I , finding in the library a small and ancient book in an unknown tongue, placed it beside Mr. Waley's bed in the hope that he would confess himself defeated. Next morning... as he placed the book on the breakfast table he announced in a faint voice: 'Turskish. 18th century.' The pages were few; and after an interval of respect we enquired: 'What is it about?' Mr. Waley, with sudden animation: 'The Cat and the Bat. The Cat sat on the Mat. The Cat ate the Rat.' 'Oh, it is a child's book.' 'One would imagine so. One would _hope_ so!'..."
From Sacheverell Sitwell: "He would ask a friend of ours to come to tea 'and bring a book', and they would sit through the summer afternoon in the garden of Gordon Square without speaking a word"
From the editor's essay: "I am told that when Waley was informally asked whether he might accept the Chair in Chinese at Cambridge University vacated by the death of Professor Haloun, his immediate reaction was a murmured 'I would rather be dead.'"
Also from the editor's essay -- the section about being called upon to censor Japanese journalists during WWII, and I think I'm quoting too much so I won't here.
A recounting of the first time they met, ~30 years before they married, when he was 40, by his wife:
He: What do you want to do?
I: Write short stories
He: So do I. Do you write poetry?
I: Of course. Everybody does, surely?
He: What sort of poetry do you like?
I: Well... it used to be all, or nearly. But now it's spoilt a bit.
He: What DO you mean?
I: Well, I got hold of a book -- scarcely even that -- called "Poems from the Chinese". Translations. Part of a series. Published by Benn. I got not only it but all the poets -- Binyon, de la Mare, Blunden, everybody -- but "The Chinese" is the only one I brought twelve thousand miles. It's somehow made other kinds of poetry just... dull.
He: Who's the translator?
I: Waley, I think. Yes, Arthur Waley. Do you know him?
He: Yes.
I: Oh, how lucky you are -- you know everyone!
He: I... don't know him very well.
August 27, 2021
A collection of works by and about the famous Orientalist, Sinologue and Japanologue Arthur Waley (1889–1966), compiled four years after his death by fellow-scholar and translator-from-the-Japanese Ivan Morris.
Waley achieved both popular and scholarly acclaim for his translations of Chinese and Japanese poetry and prose. He was one of the first great scholars of China and Japan, and quite different from modern scholars in the sense that he on the one hand avoided academic posts and on the other hand never visited China or Japan. Moreover, he was an autodidact, but all the same a great scholar who reached remarkable levels of erudition in both languages.
Starting in the 1910s and continuing steadily almost until his death in 1966, he chose to translate a wide range of Chinese and Japanese classical literature for an English-reading public, starting with poetry, such as "A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems" (1918) and "Japanese Poetry: The Uta" (1919), then an equally wide range of novels, such as "The Tale of Genji" (1925–26), the first great psychological novel in the world written in 11th c. Japan, and "Monkey," from 16th-century China. Waley also translated Chinese philosophy (both Confucian and Daoist), wrote biographies of Chinese writers as Li Bai, Bai Juyi and Yuan Mei, and maintained a lifelong interest in Chinese art.
Waley's modern translations of Chinese poetry avoided the rhymed doggerel and Tennysonian iambics of the 19th century, and instead found inspiration in Pound, Eliot and Hopkins (especially his "sprung rhythm"), setting a new standard for the future.
The first part of the present book contains memories about him by friends, family and colleagues, while the second part contains a wide selection of Waley's translations and essays, including some hard-to-find obscure pieces. Ivan Morris has himself written a own long essay "The Genius of Arthur Waley." Waley's achievement is unique, but also of its time - it could not be repeated in today's more ordered academic environment.
Waley achieved both popular and scholarly acclaim for his translations of Chinese and Japanese poetry and prose. He was one of the first great scholars of China and Japan, and quite different from modern scholars in the sense that he on the one hand avoided academic posts and on the other hand never visited China or Japan. Moreover, he was an autodidact, but all the same a great scholar who reached remarkable levels of erudition in both languages.
Starting in the 1910s and continuing steadily almost until his death in 1966, he chose to translate a wide range of Chinese and Japanese classical literature for an English-reading public, starting with poetry, such as "A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems" (1918) and "Japanese Poetry: The Uta" (1919), then an equally wide range of novels, such as "The Tale of Genji" (1925–26), the first great psychological novel in the world written in 11th c. Japan, and "Monkey," from 16th-century China. Waley also translated Chinese philosophy (both Confucian and Daoist), wrote biographies of Chinese writers as Li Bai, Bai Juyi and Yuan Mei, and maintained a lifelong interest in Chinese art.
Waley's modern translations of Chinese poetry avoided the rhymed doggerel and Tennysonian iambics of the 19th century, and instead found inspiration in Pound, Eliot and Hopkins (especially his "sprung rhythm"), setting a new standard for the future.
The first part of the present book contains memories about him by friends, family and colleagues, while the second part contains a wide selection of Waley's translations and essays, including some hard-to-find obscure pieces. Ivan Morris has himself written a own long essay "The Genius of Arthur Waley." Waley's achievement is unique, but also of its time - it could not be repeated in today's more ordered academic environment.
March 31, 2009
This is an incredible tribute to Arthur Waley, including rare photos of Waley that are stirring.
February 13, 2025
I really like this anthology. It's probably my favorite.
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews