Kyokutei Bakin's Nansō Satomi hakkenden is one of the monuments of Japanese literature. This multigenerational samurai saga was one of the most popular and influential books of the nineteenth century and has been adapted many times into film, television, fiction, and comics.
An Ill-Considered Jest, the first part of Hakkenden, tells the story of the Satomi clan patriarch Yoshizane and his daughter Princess Fuse. An ill-advised comment forces Yoshizane to betroth his daughter to the family dog, creating a supernatural union that ultimately produces the Eight Dog Warriors. Princess Fuse's heroic and tragic sacrifice, and her strength, intelligence, and self-determination throughout, render her an immortal character within Japanese fiction.
Eight Dogs is the culmination of centuries of premodern Japanese tale-telling, combining aspects of historical romance, fantasy, Tokugawa-era popular fiction, and Chinese vernacular stories. Glynne Walley's lively translation conveys the witty and colorful prose of the original, producing a faithful and entertaining edition of this important literary classic.
Kyokutei Bakin (曲亭 馬琴, 4 July 1767 – 1 December 1848) was a late Japanese Edo period gesaku author best known for works such as Nansō Satomi Hakkenden (The Chronicles of the Eight Dog Heroes of the Satomi Clan of Nansô) and Chinsetsu Yumiharizuki (Strange Tales of the Crescent Moon). Both are outstanding examples of nineteenth-century yomihon, or "books for reading" (as opposed to picture books and books for recitation). Life
Born as Takizawa Okikuni (滝沢興邦), he wrote under the pen name Kyokutei Bakin (曲亭馬琴), which is a pun, as the kanji may also be read as kuruwa de makoto, meaning a man who is truly devoted to the courtesans of the pleasure districts. Later in life he took the pen name Toku (解). Modern scholarship generally refers to him as Kyokutei Bakin, or just as Bakin.
Born in Edo (present-day Tokyo) on 4 July 1767, Bakin was the fifth son of Omon and Okiyoshi. His father, Okiyoshi, was a samurai in the service of one of the Shogun's retainers, Matsudaira Nobunari. Two of his older brothers died in infancy, while the other two, Rabun (1759–1798) and Keichū (1765–1786), played pivotal roles in Bakin's life. He had two younger sisters, Ohisa, born in 1771, and Okiku, born in 1774.
"The Hakkenden" is the nickname for the longer titles by which this monumental novel has been known since it appeared in Japan in serial form. Bakin was one of the most prolific authors of all time, and wrote historical novels in a variety of styles. His work might be superficially compared to Alexandre Dumas: A hundred thousand pages of battles, drama, quick action, pithy dialogue, plot twists, page-turn inducing reversals. But this work is closer in spirit to the material by which the basic skeleton of the Eight Samurai Dogs was inspired: the Water Margin, one of the five superlative Chinese novels.
I compared Hakkenden to Tale of Genji while reading it. It felt like one of the proto or Ur novels of Japan. Genji, along with Heike and other poetic long works, borrowed much from Chinese literature, Confucius, Mozi and the like, but Bakin's work boldly repurposes tropes in a grand and dramatic manner. It is more than twice as long as the Tale of Genji and similar in length to Remembrance of Things Past. Thus, this first volume only represents 1/12 th of the whole work. I need not mention that I am dying to read the rest. For the sake of my own sanity, I hope Walley and the publisher release the next volumes quickly. I fear we will be waiting decades before we reach the conclusion in English.
I have been waiting for this translation for about ten years. In the interim I read excerpts from the novel in translation in a few Japanese literature anthologies and an online fan translation. Walley's translation in this volume is very impressive in a number of ways. Most clearly, in the copious footnotes. Dozens of woodblock illustrations from the original first and second editions are included, along with Bakin's advertisements, prefaces, and glosses.
The book is written in a mélange of pre-modern styles, combining Chinese characters and idiomatic expressions with ancient Japanese and Chinese references. The convolutions of allusion within the work are labyrinthine. Like the incredible early vernacular novels of China, this book seems to be a culmination of wisdom, quips, and history, synthesized into a single, unified story. A cursory reading will reveal hundreds of characters, place names, conventions, and contextual differences between this work and the world of modern day. Not only did Bakin set his tale in the warring states period, he wrote it in a sneaky way, conjuring language reminiscent of Murasaki and other paramours of the poetic mode.
Bakin managed to internalize thousands of relevant proverbs and morals so that he could unholster them in his work whenever necessary. The book is a convoluted one. Far too intricate to easily summarize. If you have read Outlaws of the Marsh (Water Margin) you may notice some parallels, though this volume barely begins the epic tale of the infamous band.
The translator provides a succinct overview of the work in his long introduction, along with a thorough explanation of the immense cultural gulf separating the work's context and execution from the modern American reader's. Thus, the majority of the audience for this work will likely be those with a scholarly bent. It is translated for people with a deep interest and appreciation of Japanese history. Reader's should expect to encounter a panoply of archaic cultural references and an intricate layering of narration with moral commentary. Some of the footnotes will mean little to you, being so abstruse as to direct your attention away from the action. Bakin simply could not stop himself from lassoing in every idiom he could. But the overall effect does convey a grandiose sense of accomplishment and intimacy with the whole web of literature that makes up a great author's opus. You might study this book as you study the plays of Shakespeare or the Divine Comedy. The density of the book is one of interconnectedness and allusion.
There is no lack of poetry here, and I found it more readable than Tale of Genji. Poetry has been a vehicle for moral argument, and Bakin is a didactic author. As the translator explains, he had his reasons for shoehorning commentary and didacticism in his epics. I can only pray that we see the remainder of the book published in the next decade, though the translator has clearly been compiling and supplementing his work since his graduate thesis. To read Bakin is to experience a raw exposure to early Japanese literature, while still taking part in a breathtaking and entertaining interplay of plotlines and twists. The common themes of filiality, fraternity, love, and perseverance take center stage, while deceit and spiritual consciousness move the story forward.
The only other novel by Bakin in English, The Captive of Love, tackles similar concepts in a surprising and satisfying way. Authors like Akutagawa place Bakin on a pedestal as the greatest Japanese novelist. While his books may not be visible in the West, his legacy endures in Japan, as you can see from the many anime, manga, literary, and film adaptations you can find of his most famous novel. I would love to collect and devour as much of his oeuvre as makes its way into English in my lifetime, which I fear, will be a very small percentage.
I'm used to reading "historically significant" literature as more of a chore even if I'm glad I did in the end. This book was not at all a chore. In fact it was more engaging than many contemporary novels. So I would recommend it but only for those looking to better understand the mindset of late Edo Japanese middlebrow culture, but also for those looking for an exciting adventure story.
On a deeper layer this book really bright to life two things which I did not fully appreciate before. First, seeing the referential style was fascinating. It reminded me more of the Talmud and classical rabbinic literature than the contemporary tales of samurai and lords. The similarity lies in the oblique use of touchstone characters and narrative fragments to emphasize and in the process to claim authority for the present narrative. Walley does an excellent job of making all these references intelligible. By the end you really get a sense of a story situated within a web of other stories. Kudos to Takizawa and kudos to Walley.
The second thing that was a revelation to me from this book was a deeper understanding of classical Sino-Japanese moral/political philosophy. As a Westerner, raised to believe that democracy and only democracy is the way to rule, I've always had difficulty understanding the moral code of non-democratic rulers. Hakkenden gives a vivid portrayal of a thoroughly non-democratic ruler who is bound by a moral system that is a far cry from the tyranny and rapacity I'm accustomed to seeing. Yoshizane is willing to risk everything and sacrifice everything in order to be a "just" ruler. And he explains his reasoning in minute detail at every turn. Of course this offends contemporary "realism" but as Auerbach showed in Mimesis, what a culture prioritizes as "real" is always in flux and offers a unique window into the culture itself. We find that Yoshizane takes karmic retribution dead seriously and though his faith in aristocratic entitlement is unshakable, that entitlement has moral limitations, the overstepping of which will lead to his own justified ruin.
In short, I can't wait to read the next volume. 😁
EDIT: Reread after buying the next volume and it was even better than I remembered.
I really enjoyed this and honestly wish I had an easier and quicker way of getting a hold of the rest of the volumes. So time to get into this.
As someone who reads mostly Chinese literature when it comes to reading east Asian texts it was honestly interesting how frequently chinese historical events and works were referenced in this. Obviously the two are culturally different but reading this gave me a somewhat similar feel to reading the romance of the three kingdoms.
I'm not sure how good most of the translation was but there were a few points where it was explained in the footnotes where they chose to insert completely European sayings such as the bird in the bush one instead of the Japanese term that was used in the book and explaining that in a footnote. It was an odd choice esspecially when you get Christian at least I think centered ohrases like Avivci hell that feel incredibly jarring and out of place especially in a stpry where buddisim features heavily and is a plot driven element.
There is also at least one very plot important event that feels kjnd of anachronistic but as I am definitely not an expert in Japanese history I'm not entirely sure. I am likley wrong so im not going to type out and specify it here.
Anyways despite all that and the fact some bit of this may seem very strange this was a fantastic read amd if you live Japanese literature this os certainly worth checking out.
The first part of the famous story is practically a story in itself, decades removed from the main narrative. Captivating the reader from the first pages, Bakin keeps us turning page after page and eagerly awaiting each new twist in the fate of the characters.
Perhaps a bit difficult for readers unfamiliar with Japanese literature and writing systems to understand, the translator's introduction adds depth to the story, allowing us to understand the author's motivations and get a sense of how the difference in narrative style mirrors the state of the characters and the overall mood of the chapters, and how the text felt to his 19th-century readers.
I really enjoyed this and am still wanting to own it rather than a library checkout. There's something about these types of stories that have always made me feel like stepping right into them as a minor character to enjoy them even more.