[妖しい] The creepy and beautiful
The entire second quarter at work was crazily busy, but recently I finally got more time to rest and recharge. Some part of my brain was yearning for period drama plus some sort of supernatural detective story (summer is traditionally the season for supernatural thrillers in Japan), so I went down to a bookstore and swept off the entire Kyōgokudō series (京極堂シリーズ) by Kyōgoku Natsuhiko (京極夏彦), of which Mouryou no Hako (魍魎の匣) was the second book. I have been curious to find out more about the onmyouji-detective character Chūzenji Akihiko (中禅寺秋彦) ever since I watched Madhouse’s excellent anime adaptation of Mouryou no Hako.
Mouryou no Hako
Anyway, I wish they had put some sort of health warnings on the novel covers – the stories are not only lengthy (they are thick as dictionaries) but also highly addictive (you just can’t bring yourself to put them down); they can cause considerable eye strain and destroy your sleep pattern. But I am glad that I read them – it has been ages since I got sucked into detective thrillers, not since Umberto Eco’s Foucault’s Pendulum which I read back in university, I think. The Kyōgokudō novels are full of interesting ideas, which will take some time for my brain to properly sort them out. The stories themselves are like creepy kaidan tales from the Edo period, beefed up with logic in the style of Sherlock Holmes, and completed with psychological analysis of the Jungian school. The only thing I wish to say for now is that it became apparent to me that there is a distinct difference between horror (ホラー) and kaidan (怪談). Horror is creepy and the visual presentation often aims to turn your stomach – think the horror manga of Umezu Kazuo (楳図 かずお); but kaidan is always both creepy and beautiful in some dangerously attractive and eerie sense, or ayashii [妖しい]. I think an example of this would be Mononoke.
The Meaning of Ayashii
There are many words for “creepy” in Japanese and ayashii is one of them. If you look at the kanji 妖, it is comprised of 女 “woman” and 夭 “premature demise” – in other words, the premature demise of a woman makes for something creepy. I would like to stress that “creepy” is not really a good translation of the word ayashii. Ayashii refers to something creepy that is also at the same time enchantingly and bewitching attractive.
To me, the word ayashii comes together with urasmeshii [恨めしい] like french fries and ketchup. If there is something ayashii, then you can be sure urameshii is just around the corner. I have always found the definition of urameshii in my English/Japanese dictionary to be somewhat off-the-mark. Urameshii, according to Kenkyusha, is defined as “reproachful, rueful, regretful”. But actually, urameshii along with its noun form urami 恨み and verb form uramu [恨む] refers to “hate” – but a very special kind of “hate” that I personally would define as:
Hate mixed with profound regret, often (but not always) at someone or something one used to dearly love or trust in a deep-rooted past.
You can distinguish urameshii with its near synonym kirai [嫌い] which also means “hate” with a simple rule of thumb: If it is hate with a very long story behind it, then it is urameshii; if it is hate without any persuasive reason or not that long a story, then it is kirai. You use kirai if you merely want to express that you hate certain types of food or that you dislike someone at first sight. You use urameshii if the love of your life slept with someone else for fun.
The Chinese character 恨 in urameshii has an interesting history. The Chinese 恨 [hen] means “hate” as well but it also covers a range of related emotions. For example, the narrative poem from the Tang dynasty called Chang Hen Ge [長恨歌] written by Bai Juyi [白居易] ends with the line: 此恨绵绵無绝期. 恨 in that line is always interpreted by scholars as “sorrow” or “regret”, and the whole line is translated as “this sorrow/regret shall go on forever”. Personally when I read that poem, I wondered if the 恨 may not also mean “yearning/longing” – as in “this yearning/longing shall go on forever”. I once read that the Chinese dialect of Cantonese is said to be closest to the Chinese language that existed in the Tang Dynasty (which is why Tang poetry rhymes better in Cantonese than Mandarin). In Cantonese, 恨 has the double meaning of “hate” and “yearning/longing”. For example, if you say “我恨 iPod,” it could mean either “I hate iPod” or “I yearn/long for iPod” depending on the context. (But then again, this is just my unorthodoxical interpretation of Chang Hen Ge. I am no scholar and please don’t quote me on this.)
But there you have it, urameshii refers to a complex emotion that encompasses hate, regret, sorrow (and perhaps a mix of secret yearning/longing as well), often after the original emotion of love was violently twisted out of shape. It is the flip side of love.
The quintessentially Japanese sort of beauty
While I am at it, I should like to add that the beauty of ayashii is a very quintessentially Japanese sort of beauty. Beauty in Japan is traditionally associated with three mental states – one is sadness, one is madness and the other is fear. I believe it is only after the post-war period that it comes to be more popularly associated with the “joy” per se. Think the cherry blossom. The association of beauty with sadness in that area is well-documented and greater minds than I have attempted to answer the question of “why do beautiful things inevitably bring sadness instead of joy?” What intrigues me more is the cultural motif that the the beauty of the cherry blossom drives people insane, that it is dangerous to stand under cherry trees as you may lose your mind etc. In the Forest, Under Cherries in Full Bloom (桜の森の満開の下) written by Sakaguchi Ango (坂口安吾) is one of many examples of this. I have read the short story and also seen the 1975 film adaptation by Shinoda Masahiro (篠田正浩) many years ago. In the story, it is said that those who pass under cherry trees would hear uncanny voices and succumb to madness. Even austere monks passing under the cherry trees would throw off their hats in a state of dementia and mysteriously disappear in the midst of the showering petals…
Even now, when you ask Japanese people what they really feel about the beauty of the cherry blossom, not a few would reply that they are afraid of it (恐ろしい) or feel insecure (不安) about it. The cherry blossom is ayashii.
They will be publishing the Kyougoku novels in English too, with the first due this month (The Summer of Ubume is up first), and I’ve been very tempted to pick this up as well — though I’m a little hesitant because of the length. I was likewise fascinated with the character after watching Mouryou no Hako. I hope they do well enough for them to translate the remainder of the series.
That is an interesting insight into cherry trees I am vaguely aware of a loose association it had with spirits and the dead, but not the pervasiveness of that motif through different media. I don’t think of cherry blossoms as ayashii personally, but in the sense that ayashii has connotations of alluring and bewitching, I can see how that would translate to sakura.
i’d love to read the books and from the above post it looks like they’ll be published in english so that’s good but i wonder if it would be the same since english might not be able to capture those mystery words!!
thanks for this info it’s always interesting to read, i think in the anime X tv and Tokyo babylon cherry blossoms seem to show tragedy and something darker. i’ve always loved th idea of how something can be beautiful but yet there’s always something dark and creepy about them!
chanpon:
I never knew that those novels were to be translated into English, so many thanks for letting me know. “The Summer of Ubume” is my favorite by far. In terms of length, it is actually the shortest of them all. The Japanese edition I have is only a little over 600 pages, whereas the typical Kyougoku novel average out to around 1000 pages.
Pardon me but I read your last sentence several times and am not too sure that I understand. ^-^ Please feel free to elaborate.
susperia:
Yes, I vaguely remember something along those lines in “X” and “Tokyo Babylon”.
I picked up the first part of Mouryou no Hako, but my kanji is rather weak, so I’m sure I’m not getting everything. I’m thinking of buying the manga adaptation as well; have you read it?
I recently finished watching Mononoke. I felt the artistic style was very beautiful, while the stories contributed the creepy aspect of ayashii.
[There are many words for “creepy” in Japanese and ayashii is one of them. If you look at the kanji 妖, it is comprised of 女 “woman” and 夭 “premature demise” – in other words, the premature demise of a woman makes for something creepy. I would like to stress that “creepy” is not really a good translation of the word ayashii. Ayashii refers to something creepy that is also at the same time enchantingly and bewitching attractive.]
This is my firt posting. Very intersting insight. I believe that the archaic form (small seal script) of the character 妖 is written as 女 (woman) and 笑 (laugh).
See
http://www.zdic.net/zd/zi/ZdicE5ZdicA6Zdic96.htm
amagiri:
The whole series is difficult to read by nature of all the difficult kanji, choice of words, occult terms and archaic passages here and there. But I am glad it is the way it is and is not at all dumbed down. The language is difficult because it meant to reflect the appropriate era. In “The Summer of Ubume”, for example, there are excerpts of a doctor’s personal diary and it is written very much in the style befitting an educated man of good family who was schooled in the pre-WWII era, before the sweeping linguistic reform in Japan came about after the war. It really does give the feeling of traumatic break with the past. I wonder how they are ever going to convey the same feeling in the English translation.
I have never read the manga of “Mouryou no Hako”.
Yes, “Mononoke” is the best thing that has ever happened to the anime scene in a long time. Stylish and profound.
Massacadot Tyler:
First of all, many thanks for your kind words and hope you enjoy this blog.
I think the archaic form you meant is this?
http://alphads10-2.hkbu.edu.hk/~lcprichi/search/show_word.php?id=602
I believe the word next to “女 (woman)” is not “笑 (laugh)” but “芺”. The upper part of that word is not 竹 but 艸. I looked it out in my huge Chinese dictionary at home and apparently it is the word for a plant known as “cirsium ovalifolium”.
I am happy with the modern form “妖” as it is. Six out of ten kaidan stories have a woman who bears a grudge and dies prematurely with that grudge.
On a side note, I am amused that this whole kaidan genre is so centered on women who bear a grudge in that I cannot seem to think of any western equivalent. There is Anna Karenina who throws herself off into the railway track but that’s the end of it. For some reason, western writers just don’t seem to be as interested in women (dead or alive) who bear a grudge.
Sorry, if I’m responding too late. What I meant was that the word ayashii (as I understood it, but I could be wrong) also meant alluring or bewitching in sense that it draws you in, almost like entrapment. While I don’t normally associate sakura as ayashii in the “creepy” or “horror” sense of the word, I can see how sakura’s beauty can feel like something that pulls you in. This is especially true since sakura are so short-lived – the beauty of the flower gives way very quickly.
I ordered the Summer of Ubume just the other day, so it should arrive this week. I’m now eager to get started since you list this as your favorite. ^^
this is very enlighting. I had asked you once to write something like this and answered me there was in the old blog. I’m really happy to see such a post. By the way, this joy and appreciation of beauty that stems from something that is painful or fearsome keeps reminding me how weird can the human nature be. In an exaggerated extend it reminds how there are people out there who find it pleasurable to suffer (in bed or out of it…)
chanpon:
Okay, now I understand.
Thank you for taking my suggestion and please let me know what you think after finishing The Summer of Ubume. ^-^
ayame:
I think human nature is just too broad for one to define what is weird in human nature and what is not.
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