In praise of Genji the book

{Photos by rocketlass.}

In yesterday's post about The Tale of Genji, I praised Royall Tyler's translation, but I should have taken the time to point out just what a wonderful production the entire book is. As I explained yesterday, the complex relationships and rules that govern Genji's world can make the book a challenge for a contemporary reader; what Penguin's edition of Tyler's translation does is to offer relatively unobtrusive aid at every point.

Tyler's introduction sets the scene, offering brief but informative accounts of the book's origins, style, and themes, as well as thumbnail descriptions of the life of Lady Murasaki and the society she inhabited and wrote about. In addition, each of the book's fifty-four chapters opens with a cast list, noting all the characters who will play a part in that chapter, along with their ages, titles, and relationships to other characters. Within each chapter, Tyler provides footnotes explaining terms that might be unclear; he also nimbly glosses the book's many poetic allusions, while line drawings scattered throughout illustrate details of costumes, housing, furniture, and the like.

No edition of Genji in English--including Knopf's edition of Edward Seidensticker's translation, which was the first Genji I attempted, years ago--has offered anything like this assistance to the reader; paired with Tyler's fluid translation, it makes this edition the standard.

And the production of the book is equal to its contents. The hardcover was published in two lovely volumes, with a slipcase, in 2001 and has since gone out of print, but the paperback is nearly as striking, with an elegant cover design, french flaps, good paper, and the strong binding necessary to the long-term survival of a 1,200-page book. The whole volume is a triumph of the publisher's art, a book designed to be turned to again and again over the years.

{That said, I may have to pick up yet another Genji soon. The Caustic Cover Critic recently drew my attention to some new editions of Japanese classics from Kodansha illustrated by Masayuki Miyata, including The Tale of Genji: Scenes from the World's First Novel, which pairs chapter summaries of Genji with Masayuki's intricate papercuts. I got to take a quick look at it in the seven-story Kinokuniya bookstore when I was in Tokyo, and it's absolutely lovely.}

Remembering to give credit where it's due

This blog, as you know, is about what I've been reading lately. As someone who despite having a small but functional local library less than a block away gives in a couple times a week to my near-pathological urge to buy books, a chronicle of my reading is also a chronicle of my buying--and of the physical books themselves. Today Stacey and I rearranged the books in our bookcases so that we would no longer have a hundred or so books resting, sideways and disorganized, atop all of our properly shelved books. It took a long time, but it was worth it, the temporarily ordered shelves satisfying the lingering remnants of the bookseller in me.

Which is all a roundabout way of getting to the fact that, right after I finished my post about Deborah Blum's Ghost Hunters the other night, I realized that I should mention that it was, physically, a near-perfect book. The Penguin Press marketing department did its work, getting a great title and subtitle (Ghost Hunters: William James and the Search for Scientific Proof of Life after Death), and the design department created a flawless cover, making use of striking spirit photography and a great typeface for the title. The interior design was excellent as well, clear and readable. There's not much more you could ask for in a mid-level trade book; congratulations are in order.

And while I'm praising Penguin, I should say that I love the recent redesign of the Penguin classics. I'm not talking about the Deluxe Editions, which are wonderful but have gotten plenty of press, but of the regular old Classics line. The covers have been simplified, with an image on the top half and black on the bottom, and both the design and the image choices have been spot-on. Now, they're still printed on some of the worst paper in the world, so they feel ancient about forty minutes after you get them home. but baby steps are still progress . . .