Afro-Asian Literature
Hebrew literature comprises directly or indirectly the outgrowth of the Bible. There is a marked continuity in the development of the later from the earlier literary forms, all of them going back to the first source—the Bible. In other words, Hebrew literature is chiefly a religious literature, secular writings, produced mostly under the influence of foreign literatures, forming but a minor part of it. It seems, therefore, that, aside from dividing Hebrew literature into periods, as is usually done in histories, it will be best to give a sketch here under the categories into which the Bible itself may be divided, showing what part of the literature may be traced back to the Bible and what must be traced to foreign influence. These categories are "Law," "Prophecy and Wisdom Literature," "History," and "Psalmody."
The Law
The Law as a literature has continued its development from the earliest times down to the present day, and has been of greater influence upon the life of the Jews than any other branch of literature. It owes its growth chiefly to the doctrine, long inculcated in the Jewish mind that along with the written law Moses received also an oral law, which was faithfully handed down by an unbroken chain of teachers and leaders to the men of the Great Synod and by them to succeeding generations. This gave rise to the Talmudic law, or Halakah, which deals, like the Biblical law, not only with man's civil and public life, but also with his private habits and thoughts, his conscience, and his morality. Traces of the Halakah are discoverable even in the Later Prophets, but its period of full development lies between 300 B.C. and 450 C.E. In the latter half of the fifth century the Babylonian schools declined and the teachers of the Law no longer assumed authority. They confined their teachings to the comparison and explanation of the laws that came down to them from previous generations, allowing themselves to introduce only methodological and mnemonic signs into the Talmud. This sums up literary activity in the line of the Law during the period following the close of the Talmud
Prophecy and Wisdom Literature
From the prophetic utterances to the preachings and homilies of later days was but a short step, and accordingly public preaching for general instruction and moral edification was instituted among the Jews in very early times. This gave rise to the Haggadah, which did for the spirit what the Halakah did for the practise of Judaism. Just as the Halakah embraces various kinds of law, so does the Haggadah embrace different forms of thought. In a restricted sense, however, the Haggadah may be said to deal with ethics and metaphysics, and it is in this sense that it may be regarded as the natural issue of the earlier prophecies. In its ethical characteristics the Haggadah was greatly influenced by the Wisdom literature of the Bible, but in its metaphysical tendencies it shows the influence of Hellenistic philosophy. To the ethical Haggadah belong a few apocryphal books, such as Ben Sira, the Apocalypse of Zerubbabel, and the Wisdom of Solomon, and the still more important works Pirḳe Abot, Abot de-Rabbi Natan, and Masseket Derek Ereẓ. The metaphysical Haggadah did not develop into a separate literature until a much later date.
Philosophic Haggadah
The theological literature previous to the twelfthcentury is very fragmentary, and consists mostly of partial translations from the Arabic. Though the beginning of this literature dates from the days of Saadia Gaon, there is no independent work of the kind in Hebrew until a much later date, and even the earliest among the prominent men in this field, Ibn Gabirol (11th cent.), Judah ha-Levi and Maimonides (12th cent.), wrote in Arabic, as had Saadia. The first important theological writers in Hebrew were Levi ben Gershon (14th cent.), Joseph Albo (15th cent.), and Elijah Delmedigo (15th cent.).
The ethical literature was continued in the works of Gabirol and Baḥya ben Joseph (11th cent.), Halevi (12th cent.), Isaac Aboab and Eleazar ben Judah (13th cent.), Jedaiah Bedersi (14th cent.), Leon of Modena (16th cent.), and Moses Ḥayyim Luzzatto (18th cent.), as well as in the large literature of ethical Wills and correspondence current throughout the Middle Ages.
the eighteenth century it was the cause of the extravagances of the Ḥasidim, the chief of whom were Israel Ba'al Shem, Bär of Meseritz, and Salman of Liadi.
Polemical Literature
With the rise of systematic theology there came into existence an extensive literature of controversy. For although traces of this literature may be found in the Talmud, it was not until Judaism came into conflict with its two sister religions and with Karaism that religious controversy became a significant part of Hebrew literature. The first great work of this kind is the "Cuzari" of Judah ha-Levi, which is directed mainly against Mohammedanism and Karaism. But the most fruitful period for religious controversy was the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and the leading authors of that period were Profiat Duran, Joseph Albo, Isaac Abravanel, and Yom-Ṭob Lipmann Heller. In the sixteenth century two strong polemics were written against Christianity: the "Hoda'at Ba'al Din" of Joseph Nasi and the "Hizzuḳ Emunah" of Isaac ben Abraham Troki. In modern times Isaac Baer Levinsohn wrote many controversial works.
History
"The meager achievements of the Jews in the province of history do not justify the conclusion that they are wanting in historic perception. The lack of Jewish writings on these subjects is traceable to the sufferings and persecutions that have marked their path. Before the chronicler had had time to record past afflictions, new sorrows and troubles broke upon them" (G. Karpeles, "Jewish Literature, and Other Essays," p. 23). Though real historical works, in the modern sense of the term, are a very late product in Hebrew literature, the elements of history were never absent therefrom.
Psalmody
The literature devoted to the liturgy of the Synagogue extends over a long period. Although in the Bible there is no mention made of any composition specially written for the purpose of prayer, it is not unlikely that many Psalms were recited in the Temple service and then adopted as prayers. And inasmuch as the oldest prayers are largely mosaics, made up of quotations from the Scriptures, the liturgy may justly be regarded as a development of the Psalm literature. It was due to this Biblical origin also that the language of the old prayers was in most cases Hebrew and the style fluent and forcible. The later development of the liturgy, however, was closely connected with the development of the Midrash. This is evident from the fact that the additions which grew up around the old nucleus of the prayer were in the spirit of the Midrash, until finally the Midrash itself entered into the liturgy. Under the influence of the new forms of poetry in the Arabic period the daily prayers, and still more those of the festivals, assumed various forms.
Secular Poetry
From religious to secular poetry is but a step, yet it was only in the middle of the tenth century that secular poetry began to flourish. In this as in other branches of literature, Arabic influence was strongly felt from the days of Ḥasdai (10th cent.) down to those of Immanuel of Rome (14th cent.). From the fifteenth to the seventeenth century inclusive, Hebrew poetry declined, and was not revivified until the beginning of the eighteenth century, when it came under the influence of modern literatures. The period from Moses Ḥayyim Luzzatto to that of Naphtali Wessely may be called the Italian period, and that from Wessely to Abraham Bär Lebensohn, the German period. Judah Löb Gordon, though he came under the influence of foreign literatures, made the foreign taste subservient to the Jewish spirit. He is also the first poet to deal with real life, while the recent school of poets, under the influence of the national movement, shows a tendency to return to romanticism. Owing also to the influence of modern literatures, Hebrew has developed a literature of fiction and essays which deserves general recognition.
Finally, a word must be said of the works written in Hebrew that deal with the arts and sciences. Originally, the sciences developed among the Jews as a branch of Halakah, receiving recognition only by virtue of some religious function which they were made to serve, as, for example, astronomy in connection with the fixing of the calendar, upon which depended the observance of the festivals. Later, however, when the Jews came in contact with Arabic civilization, the sciences came to be cultivated for their own sake, and since the middle of the tenth century many books have been written on the various arts and sciences, irrespective of their religious bearing. See also Dictionaries; Drama; Fables; Folk-Songs; Folk-Tales; Grammar, Hebrew; Hebrew Language; Poetry, Didactic; Semitic Languages; Translators.
The Sermon on the Mount
The Sermon on the Mount has held a primary place in the teachings of the church throughout the centuries. But, even though it has enjoyed such popularity, it has not always been understood in the same way. There are varied at the same time conflicting points of view.
The Sermon on the Mount is the sermon that Jesus gave in Matthew chapters 5-7. Matthew 5:1-2 is the reason it is known as the Sermon on the Mount: "Now when He saw the crowds, He went up on a mountainside and sat down. His disciples came to Him, and He began to teach them..." The Sermon on the Mount is the most famous sermon Jesus ever gave, perhaps the most famous sermon ever given by anyone.
The Sermon on the Mount covers several different topics. If we were to summarize the Sermon on the Mount in a single sentence, it would be something like this: How to live a life that is dedicated to and pleasing to God, free from hypocrisy, full of love and grace, full of wisdom and discernment.
What does the term "beatitude" mean? Beatitude is a declaration of blessedness.
Now, as we've learned, multitudes of people followed Jesus everywhere. Everyone wanted to touch Him and be healed, and when they did, virtue left Him. Then Jesus went up into a mountain and sat down with His disciples and began to teach them. the next few chapters of Matthew are called ... The Sermon on the Mount.
One of the most common debates over the sermon is how directly it should be applied to everyday life. Many of the rules Jesus calls for are considered by some to be extreme. At Matthew 5:29 Jesus appears to state that if your vision is leading you to adultery, then you should remove your eye. At Matthew 5:40 Jesus seems to say that if you're sued, you should not fight, but rather give up more than was asked for. These are considered by some to be challenging rules to apply to life. Many Christian groups have developed non literal ways to interpret and apply the sermon.
While Matthew groups Jesus' teachings into sets of similar material, the same material is scattered when found in Luke. The Sermon on the Mount may be compared with the similar but more succinct Sermon on the Plain as recounted by the Gospel of Luke (6:17–49), which occurs at the same moment in Luke's narrative, and also features Jesus heading up a mountain, but giving the sermon on the way down at a level spot. Some scholars believe that they are the same sermon, while others hold that Jesus frequently preached similar themes in different places.
The Ecclesiastes
King Solomon, the author of the Book of Ecclesiastes, called himself the Preacher, literally the speaker to the assembly. “The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem” (Ecclesiastes 1:1). It seems rather apparent by the multitude of his confessions that King Solomon, the son of King David, wrote Ecclesiastes after many backslidden years.
Earlier on in his life, during the dedication of the temple, we can see a real earnestness of Solomon's soul. His perceptive prayer of 2 Chronicles 6 and 7 perhaps is the longest and most oft-quoted prayer recorded in the Bible. This was probably the time, early in his life, when he wrote the Song of Songs. At some time, however, he looked back on his life and saw his departure from the Source of life.
He looked like he had a wonderfully fulfilling life, but when he looked back at it, he realized that the deeds, pleasure and accomplishments did not mean anything without a close relationship with the Creator. An outward form of religion never provides a substitute to a close relationship with the Almighty God. The world stood up and recognized Solomon's great achievement, but he unashamedly admits that having all and not having God is absolute meaningless.
Down deep in Solomon's heart, there was a seed of corruptness that was not kept under self-control. It grew out of control and distorted his life perspective. Only later in life, did he finally observe the difference between life and living. Life could not find its meaning in the many projects that he had involved himself in. They only became distractions to the real meaning in life, only found in God. God was near his heart but not his first love. He loved other things more than the Lord. His life before this writing clearly showed this.
Only later in his life did he slow down to catch a view of what he had done. Perhaps he was alluding to the wrestling of his heart in his words, “He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Ecclesiastes could well be called 'Solomon's Confessions.' The Book of Ecclesiastes is a sign that he had not only genuinely seen his departure from the Lord but had returned to the Lord of Life.
As one looks more closely at Solomon’s words, one begins to understand his purpose, largely contained in the later part of Ecclesiastes. The book progresses from depressive analysis to hopeful solutions.
There is no doubt that the beginning of the book is very powerful and can quickly draw one into it. Perhaps this is because his target audience would be so involved in their projects that they have to be pulled away to pause for reflection. Solomon was there. He knew what it took to reach them. There seem to be three main purposes for Ecclesiastes. First, he shows how sad and unfulfilled lives are apart from God. Second, he warns us that happy and prosperous lives will end in disaster if centered on earthly things. And lastly, he calls us back to a sensible and good life with God.
Solomon wants to pass on to us his hard-earned discernment, not to make money or a reputation, but to warn and rescue. He is trying to help those caught in the web of secularism’s to escape the plague of a meaningless life and find true fulfillment and joy in the presence of God. Since a fulfilling life cannot be found ‘under the sun,’ then we ought to live ‘under the heaven”–the world influenced by God, that is, the kingdom of God.
The secular society is best described as mankind without God. The modern world boasts that its choice is much greater than the old life of morals and God. They run with frenzy after new approaches to life and understanding so that they can escape God’s influence in life. Secular man boasts in his choices but hides the consequences: depression, broken relationships, hatred, disease, drugs, loneliness, and anxiety.
Without God, man’s resources are limited to what he has and what he makes out of life. When things go well, he is prideful and content, but when anything threatens his throne, he becomes very insecure and anxious. Because man is missing life’s most essential part, his individual pursuits in life are vain. One cannot be pacified by temporal toys because God has set eternity in his heart.
The Story of Ruth
In seeking to analyze the story of Ruth and Naomi we have to trace the plot and character elements in structures evident in early mythological writings as well as modern movies. In doing so, we will employ literary form and structure to analyze Ruth and its elements.
The Hebrew short story uses “an artistic and elevated prose containing rhythmic elements which are poetic,” takes an interest in typical people, and seeks to both entertain and instruct, “Especially important: they look at ordinary events as being the scene of God’s subtly providential activity. Fun and delight, pathos and violence, characterize the human portrayals; combined with the subtle divine dimension, the total effect is one of joy and seriousness together.” Ruth, in particular, displays artistry in the poetic prose of different speeches, in word-play such as assonance and punning, and in the design of the story with its inclusions ,symmetry (Ruth’s return from Boaz with grain in symmetrical scenes), and contrasts ( the general disobedience of Israel characteristic of the time of the judges seen specifically in Naomi’s family abandoning the promised land contrasted with Ruth’s loyalty to Naomi and God in times of trouble; empty verses full; helpless versus provided for and protected; death versus life).
The universal monomyth contains four elements: romance and anti-romance, tragedy and comedy. These categories are evident in Old Testament stories: “In classical literature and in the literature of the Old Testament itself, the existence of pregeneric [monomyth] plot structure is not only evident, but is intrinsically necessary to the development of that literature.”Ruth, as a romance, displays the fulfillment of desire and, as a comedy, the upward movement from the unideal to the ideal. The book displays typical virtuous, beautiful ideals, villains that threaten the heroine’s ascent and final achievement of “the victory of fertility over the wasteland” of a comedy-romance.The final society reached at the end is the one that the “audience has recognized all along to be the proper and desirable state of affairs.”As a comic plot, “the protagonist encounters obstacles but eventually overcomes them through faith and/or divine intervention.” Its story is meant to “inspire, challenge, and encourage us.”
One aspect of literature is its elements of recurrence in imagery and conventional actions. Rituals of conventional actions and that imitate nature’s cycle are organizing rhythms and patterns. These patterns represent the fulfillment of desire and the obstacles to it. Because the same sovereign God Who is ruling the affairs of men is also ruling the acts of the natural world, these cycles are “rooted in a divine reality beyond the natural world. There is a continual inter penetration of the supernatural into the earthly order, and God is a continual actor in human affairs. One effect of this is that life becomes filled with meaning, since every event takes on spiritual significance.” This coincides with Frye’s analysis of the imagery and cyclical elements of story. In short, the setting and details of Ruth are pregnant with meaning.
In Ruth, imagery such as provision is embodied in Bethlehem: literally means “house of bread.” This is ironic since at the opening of the book, Bethlehem was lacking in bread due to the famine! In 1:6, God visits His people with the purpose of giving them bread. Ruth and Naomi together sojourn to Bethlehem hoping for, and finding, provision through Ruth’s work of gleaning in the field, through Boaz’s generous gift to Ruth, through Boaz’s redemption of Ruth and Naomi’s field, and finally through Obed, the son who holds the hope for future provision. The book begins with a famine but ends with plenty. It is also interesting to note that Ruth’s marriage proposal occurs on the threshing floor, where the grain that provides is created. Not only does she return to Naomi after the marriage proposal with a promise of redemption but also with tangible evidence of grain. The use of the harvest cycle is also prevalent in Ruth. While the family tragedy is surrounded by famine, Ruth and Naomi return to Bethlehem when the famine has been abated at the beginning of the barley harvest, clueing the reader in to the hope they have.
The story of Ruth begins with death, moves toward marriage, and finds its ultimate fulfillment in birth. The Hebrew uses the same term ילדfor sons to show in inclusion Naomi’s loss of sons to her regaining of a child. The tension and tragedy lies in the empty and lonely Naomi. However, as a comedy, there is rebirth in the end, literally in Ruth’s son that is considered Naomi’s, and figuratively in Naomi, who is redeemed. The women in the story act as a Greek chorus, noting Naomi’s return in the beginning and commenting in the end both on Yahweh’s provision for Naomi of a son and on Ruth’s loving-kindness , which furnished the vehicle for Yahweh’s blessing (ironically).
This story is a great tool for evangelism by drawing analogies between Boaz, the type of Christ, and the archetype, Christ Himself. It exposes the unbeliever to the loving grace of God and His provision of redemption through Jesus Christ. Old Testament narratives reveal the character of God. In Ruth, God is revealed as the Faithful Provider to the helpless.
A literary analysis of this book enabled an enlightenment of the story development as well as the character development, which revealed the overarching and secondary messages of the Book of Ruth. It also allowed an appreciation for the beauty and complicity of the plot as unfolded by the author. These same categories can be applied to other stories in the Bible to unveil the central message that God wishes to communicate, understood according to their appropriate genre.
The Parable of the Talents
The parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30), reads: “For the kingdom of heaven is like a man traveling to a far country, who called his own servants and delivered his goods to them. And to one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one, to each according to his own ability; and immediately he went on a journey. Then he who had received the five talents went and traded with them, and made another five talents. And likewise he who had received two gained two more also. But he who had received one went and dug in the ground, and hid his lord’s money. After a long time, the lord of those servants came and settled accounts with them. So he who had received five talents came and brought five more talents, saying, ‘Lord, you delivered to me five talents; look, I have gained five more talents besides them.’ His lord said to him, ‘Well done, good and faithful servant; you were faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord.’ He also who received two talents came and said, ‘Lord, you delivered to me two talents; look, I have gained two more talents besides them.’ His lord said to him ‘Well done, good and faithful servant; you have been faithful over a few things, I will make you ruler over many things. Enter into the joy of your lord.’
Then he who had received the one talent came and said, ‘Lord, I knew you to be a hard man, reaping where you have not sown, and gathering where you have not scattered seed. And I was afraid, and went and hid your talent in the ground. Look, there you have what is yours.’ But his lord answered and said to him, ‘You wicked and lazy servant, you knew that I reap where I have not sown, and gather where I have not scattered seed. So you ought to have deposited my money with the bankers, and at my coming I would have received back my own with interest. So take the talent from him, and give to him who has ten talents. For to everyone who has, more will be given, and he will have abundance; but to him who does not have, even what he has will be taken away. And cast the unprofitable servant into the outer darkness. There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.
There are some lessons that is clearly imparted from the parable of the talents that are worthy of explanation. This parable intends to communicate that our talents are gifts from God—no matter what we may like to think, our abilities, which we call ‘talents,’ are themselves gifts from God, or more properly, investments. God expects us to have an acceptable return on investment. (verse 14); God gives us different opportunities depending on our abilities, and sometimes these different opportunities and abilities vary. Not everyone has the same amount of talents. (verse 15); God gives the same reward where the same profit is demonstrated. Note that the faithful servant given five talents is given the same reward—being a ruler of many things for being faithful in a few things—as the servant given only two talents. Both are invited to enter into the joy of their lord because of their faithful service and profitable investments. It should also be noted that both of these servants show their faithful service in trade with the world, showing that our actions with others in this present life forms the basis of God’s verdict on our faithfulness. (Verses 20-24); God does not tolerate excuses and laziness. The servant given only one talent hid it from the world (perhaps feeling the world an unsuitable place to use his talents), and condemns his lord as seeking what he does not own, while refusing to give his master what he wants, or even to take minimal precautions to ensure his master some return on investment—showing himself to be lazy rather than prescient. (verses 24-27).
There are consequences for being unprofitable. Merely being obedient to God makes us unprofitable servants (see Luke 17:10), but being profitable servants means going above and beyond merely obedience to God’s law (which is difficult enough for us to do). It is virtue and wisdom that we must cultivate, rather than settling for mere continence and the appearance of virtue, or the knowledge that comes merely from listening to what others say without studying the Bible for ourselves. Merely to go to church and listen to what the pastor says about obeying God’s law is not sufficient for divine approbation—only for ‘outer darkness’ and ‘weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ We should desire a better and richer fate, the joy of our lord. (Verses 29-30).
God expects a return on investment, but is generous far beyond our actual return on investment. Though God expects us to put the gifts He gives us to good use, He rewards His faithful servants far more generously than their labor would indicate. Being faithful in a few things means receiving a gift of many things.
It is important to note that all of God’s servants are held accountable. Despite the actions of some of God’s servants (particularly the more narcissistic ones who are drawn to positions of leadership), every servant of God will have to be accountable for what they have done with what God has given, a serious matter that cannot be neglected or minimized. Not all servants are profitable. Some of God’s servants do little with a lot (though they may only feel it is a little), and some do a lot with a little, but all is sorted out eventually Our Lord will eventually judge. Many of our problems in this life and in this world are the result of us taking God’s prerogatives for ourselves. We are not responsible for making sure our fellow servants are profitable, but on how we are becoming profitable. However, that said, the shortcomings of our fellow servants may provide opportunities to bind wounds, heal suffering hearts, and be profitable servants, so we need not neglect responding to what our fellow servants do.
Persian Literature
The Persian Language
The Old Persian of the Achaemenian Empire, preserved in a number of cuneiform inscriptions, was an Indo-European tongue with close affinities with Sanskrit and Avestan (the language of the Zoroastrian sacred texts). After the fall of the Achaemenians the ancient tongue developed, in the province of Pars, into Middle Persian or Pahlavi (a name derived from Parthavi - that is, Parthian). Pahlavi was used throughout the Sassanian period, though little now remains of what must once have been a considerable literature. About a hundred Pahlavi texts survive, mostly on religion and all in prose. Pahlavi collections of romances, however, provided much of the material for Ferdowsi's Shahnameh. After the Arab conquest a knowledge of Arabic became necessary, for it was not only the language of the new rulers and their state, but of the religion they brought with them and -later- of the new learning. Though Pahlavi continued to be spoken in private life, Arabic was dominant in official circles for a century and a half. With the weakening of the central power, a modified form of Pahlavi emerged, with its Indo-European grammatical structure intact but simplified, and with a large infusion of Arabic words. This was the Modem Persian in use today.
Persian Poetry
Classical Persian poetry is always rhymed. The principal verse forms are the Qasideh, Masnavi, Qazal and Ruba'i. The qasida or ode is a long poem in monorhyme, usually of a panegyric, didactic or religious nature; the masnavi, written in rhyming couplets, is employed for heroic, romantic, or narrative verse; the ghazal (ode or lyric) is a comparatively short poem, usually amorous or mystical and varying from four to sixteen couplets, all on one rhyme. A convention of the ghazal is the introduction, in the last couplet, of the poet's pen name (takhallus). The ruba'i is a quatrain with a particular metre, and a collection of quatrains is called "Ruba'iyyat" (the plural of ruba'i). Finally, a collection of a poet's ghazals and other verse, arranged alphabetically according to the rhymes, is known as a divan.
A word may not be out of place here on the peculiar difficulties of interpreting Persian poetry to the western reader. To the pitfalls common to all translations from verse must be added, in the case of Persian poetry, such special difficulties as the very free use of Sufi imagery, the frequent literary, Koranic and other references and allusions, and the general employment of monorhyme, a form highly effective in Persian but unsuited to most other languages. But most important of all is the fact that the poetry of Persia depends to a greater degree than that of most other nations on beauty of language for its effects. This is why much of the great volume of "qasidas in praise of princes" can still be read with pleasure in the original, though It is largely unsuited to translation. In short, the greatest charm of Persian poetry lies, as Sir E. Denison Ross remarked, in its language and its music, and consequently the reader of a translation "has perforce to forego the essence of the matter".
Early Literature
Though existing fragments of Persian verse are believed to date from as early as the eighth century CE, the history of Persian literature proper begins with the lesser dynasties of the ninth and tenth centuries that emerged with the decline of the Caliphate. The most important of these were the Samanids, who established at Bokhara the first of many brilliant courts that were to patronize learning and letters. Here Abu Ali Sina, better known in the west as Avicenna, developed the medicine and philosophy of ancient Greece, and wrote numerous works that were to exercise considerable influence not only in the East but in Europe -where, translated into Latin, they were in use as late as the seventeenth century. Avicenna wrote mostly in Arabic, but composed an encyclopaedia -- the Danish Nameh-ye Ala'i - in Persian.
The most famous of the court poets were Rudaki and Daqiqi. Rudaki, generally regarded as the first of the great Persian poets, wrote a very large quantity of verse, of which but little has survived. His style direct, simple and unadorned - was to appear unpolished to some of the over-elaborate versifiers of later ages, but appeals more to modem tastes. Daqiqi, a composer of epics, was commissioned to write a work on the ancient kings of Persia, but only completed a thousand couplets before his death. Some of these were later incorporated in the celebrated Shahnameh.
Characteristics of Persian Literature
Persian literature (Persian: ادبیات فارسی or ادبیات پارسی) spans two-and-a-half millennia, though much of the pre-Islamic material has been lost. Its sources have been within historical Persia including present-day Iran as well as regions of Central Asia where the Persian language has historically been the national language. For instance, Molana (Rumi), one of Persia's best-loved poets, born in Balkh (in what is now Afghanistan), wrote in Persian, and lived in Konya then the capital of the Seljuks. The Ghaznavids conquered large territories in Central and South Asia and adopted Persian as their court language. There is thus Persian literature from Iran, Afghanistan, Tajikistan and other parts of Central Asia. Not all this literature is written in Persian, as some consider works written by ethnic Persians in other languages, such as Greek and Arabic, to be included. At the same time, not all literature written in Persian is written by ethnic Persians/Iranians. Particularly Indic and Turkic poets and writers have also used the Persian language in the environment of Persianate cultures.
Described as one of the great literatures of mankind, Persian literature has its roots in surviving works of Middle Persian and Old Persian, the latter of which date back as far as 522 BCE (the date of the earliest surviving Achaemenid inscription, the Behistun Inscription). The bulk of the surviving Persian literature, however, comes from the times following the Islamic conquest of Persia circa 650 CE. After the Abbasids came to power (750 CE), the Persians became the scribes and bureaucrats of the Islamic empire and, increasingly, also its writers and poets. The New Persian literature arose and flourished in Khorasan and Transoxiana because of political reasons - the early Iranian dynasties such as Tahirids and Samanids were based in Khorasan.
i. Preponderance of Poetry:
A fairly extensive prose literature, mainly of a narrative, anecdotal, and moralizing kind also flourished, but it is overshadowed by poetry in terms of quality and quantity alike. In fact, poetry is the art par excellence of Persia, and her salient cultural achievement. Despite their considerable accomplishments in painting, pottery, textiles, and architecture, in no other field have the Persians succeeded in achieving the same degree of eminence. Whereas the scope of the other arts remained limited, poetry developed into a vehicle for the most refined thoughts and the deepest sentiments. Contemplative and passionate at the same time, poetry speaks the language of the Persian heart, mind, and soul, fully reflecting the Persian world view and life experience.
ii. "Tangential" Structure and Organization:
The literatures of Persia generally tend to be descriptive rather than dramatic, expressionistic rather than naturalistic, organic rather than architectural. This does not mean that Iranian literatures lack dramatic or well-constructed stories. The Shah-nama contains some powerful stories with considerable dramatic effect. The episodes of Rostam and Sohrab, Siyavosh and Sudaba, and Rostam and Esfandiyar, are not only effective in themselves, but are also told with commendable structural cohesion - as are a number of events reported by the eleventh-century historian Bayhaqi. From their Persian renditions, it is clear that the Middle Persian historical novels based on the lives of Mazdak and Bahram Chobin were dramatic and well-constructed. One need only refer to the epigrammatic quatrains of Omar Khayyam and his imitators to show that dramatic technique was not alien to Persian literary taste. Many writers and poets excelled in driving a point home effectively by the judicious use of contrast, emphasis, paradox, and irony, but most of all by a fitting illustration (which is frequently used in Persian didactic literature to dramatize an abstract point or dictum).
And yet it is the creation of moods and effects and the description of scenes and sentiments that have remained the chief concerns of the writers and poets of Persia. Literary constructions of an architectural nature, where all details are subordinated to the requirements of an overriding theme or idea, have seldom been the compelling aim of Iranian literary works. Structural frames as, they are understood in the West, with dramatic tension resulting from their development of characters and their contrived interaction do not preoccupy the Persian literary mind. Rather than following a planned development from initial premises to climax and resolution, the Persian writers allow themselves to explore, often at a leisurely pace, the scenes and details that excite their own imagination, and to share these with the reader. This, unfocused, meandering type of literary construction finds its supreme example in Rumi's Mathnavi, where mystical ideas and preaching are illustrated by stories within stories, with no clear structure between rambling sermons and philosophical comments....
It is also revealing that in the present century, when fiction writing has become popular, it is the short story (mostly descriptive) and not the novel that has attracted the best talents. And in Afghani's Showhar-e Ahu Khanom and Dowlatabadi's Kelidar, two significant post-World War II novels, frequent peregrinations, delight in exploiting the ramifications of their subjects, and branching off into side alleys are typical of the same centrifugal tendency that we notice in the works of Nezami or Attar.
On the other hand, Persian poets and writers are proven masters of vignettes, aphorisms, pithy remarks, proverbial sayings, felicitous formulations, pregnant allusions, illustrative anecdotes, and imaginative short descriptions; almost all of these techniques are exemplified in the pages of the most celebrated Persian prose work, Sadi's Golestan (The rose garden), composed in the thirteenth century. Persian and Middle Persian possess a rich store of wisdom literature, consisting mainly of detached or loosely connected moral maxims and ethical observations from which one can hardly deduce a coherent system of ethical philosophy. It is symptomatic of the Persian mode of thinking and literary predilection that the true unit of Persian poetry is the line (distich or bayt). The best Persian poets often succeed in expressing profound thoughts or impassioned sentiments within the confines of a single couplet.
iii. Decorative Tendency:
A third feature of Persian literature is its taste for the use of rhetorical devices and ornament. It has often been observed that Persian art has a marked decorative tendency. This is clearly seen in the visual arts: architecture, book illustration, wall painting, bookbinding, calligraphy, and textiles, as well as in music. In modern Persian criticism this tendency, an integral part of artistic expression in Persian letters, has been somewhat deprecated, partly as a result of changes in literary values and partly because the critics have usually focused on excessive examples. Such a view, however, ignores the standards of taste prevailing in medieval Persia and its spheres of cultural influence, and it misses, as well, the true nature and function of ornament in Persian literature. Far from being a mere addition or embellishment, ornament is a vital element of literary expression. It is one of the major devices writers or poets use to display their ingenuity, imparting elegance and sophistication to their products, and rousing the reader's admiration. If in treatises on rhetoric the embellishing devices occupy such a conspicuous place, it is because they were seen not as marginal but rather as essential parts of the craft.
In early Persian poetry, ornament is minimal, partly as a result of the poetry's youth and partly because it was modeled on Sassanian poetry. In pre-Islamic Persia, as we have seen, poetry and music went hand in hand, and the minstrels usually sang their poems to the accompaniment of instruments. Poetry, to judge by our few remaining examples, was fairly simple in composition since the music was there to help deliver its emotional impact. Many early Persian poems were, in fact, conceived as songs and were sung by the poet or a ravi (Arabic rawi, reciter) as instanced by Rudaki's famous poem on Bukhara, which reportedly made his patron king abandon Herat and rush to his capital without even taking time to put on his riding boots.
It was not long, however, before poetry achieved a totally separate existence from music and its own tradition was established with a repertory of conventional themes, motifs, and imagery. Since the free play of imagination was somewhat limited by the restraints of this tradition, embellishment and decoration became a primary means of exhibiting literary dexterity and of impressing one's audience. Stylistic mastery and rhetorical craftsmanship gradually became a hallmark of good writing. Even the writers of informative prose who mastered the craft were considered practitioners of literary art.
iv. Conventionality:
A fourth feature of Persian literary tradition is the conventionality of its themes and imagery. The major themes and forms of Persian poetry were set in the first century of its appearance; they are seen as early as the works of Rudaki (d. 940-41). Furthermore, the different genres of Persian poetry generally correspond to specific forms: the qasida (ode), a long mono-rhyme, for panegyrics; the ghazal, a shorter mono-rhyme of about seven to fourteen lines, for lyrics; the mathnavi or couplet, for narrative themes; the roba'i or quatrain for epigrammatic poems; and the qet'a (piece or fragment) for casual themes. These forms and their corresponding genres have remained fairly constant for nearly a thousand years.
Traditional poets have always composed their works within the requirements of formal canons and thematic and imagistic conventions. If this framework has made the poet's task of achieving originality more difficult, it has also made it more impressive once accomplished. Such originality is often achieved not by deviating from the norm but by improving upon it: development in Persian literature consists mostly of the refinement of existing techniques, not bold or unsettling innovation.
Hafiz (ca 1320/26-1389/90)
Much of the sexuality in the lyrics of the great Persian poet Hafiz is homoerotic and infused with a homosexual mysticism.
It has often been written by Western scholars studying Persian literature that the Persians (Iranians) quote Hafiz more frequently than Westerners quote Shakespeare. Many scholars in both the East and the West consider him the greatest lyric poet of all time.
Because Persians in his time and for several centuries thereafter had little inclination to record or study the lives of their writers, little is known about the life of Hafiz, although he was popular in his own day. He was born Shams al-Din Muhammad Hafiz in the town of Shiraz some time between 1320 and 1326. His father died when he was a child.
Hafiz apparently married and fathered a son. Most, but not all, scholars believe he was a Sufi. Whatever his religious beliefs, he was at one time banished from Shiraz at the request of religious leaders because his ghazals were viewed as having a negative influence on society.
There is no definitive version of Hafiz's Divan; various "complete" editions range from 573 to 994 poems. Nevertheless, despite the problems with authenticating his biography and other works, Hafiz's contribution to literature has been immeasurable. Goethe, Emerson, Edward Carpenter, and Gide all fell under his spell; Goethe seems to have been particularly inspired. Hafiz is sometimes called "the master of the erotic ghazal," and much of the sexuality in his work is homoerotic.
His ghazals are infused with a homosexual mysticism that startles many Western minds because of the expression of male-male love as not merely approaching but actually reaching a state of divinity. Hafiz believed one can see an image of God in the face of one's beloved. His religious fervor is matched by his intense carnal desires, but he sees no contradiction in the two: "The higher life lusted for the dimple in your chin," he says in one poem.
Perhaps the most quoted couplet in all his ghazals are the lines "If that Tartar, that fair-skinned Turk of Shiraz, gets hold of my heart / I'll give Bokhara and Samarkand for the Indian-black mole on his cheek." They exhibit a playfulness typical of many of his ghazals, and this style has won him many admirers. But it is his most serious ghazals that have put him in the rare company of Shakespeare as one of the greatest lyric poets the world has ever seen.
Saadi
Saadi was born in Shiraz around 1200. He died in Shiraz around 1292. He lost his father in early childhood. With the help of his uncle, Saadi completed his early education in Shiraz. Later he was sent to study in Baghdad at the renowned Nezamiyeh College, where he acquired the traditional learning of Islam.
The unsettled conditions following the Mongol invasion of Persia led him to wander abroad through Anatolia, Syria, Egypt, and Iraq. He also refers in his work to travels in India and Central Asia. Saadi is very much like Marco Polo who traveled in the region from 1271 to 1294. There is a difference, however, between the two. While Marco Polo gravitated to the potentates and the good life, Saadi mingled with the ordinary survivors of the Mongol holocaust. He sat in remote teahouses late into the night and exchanged views with merchants, farmers, preachers, wayfarers, thieves, and Sufi mendicants. For twenty years or more, he continued the same schedule of preaching, advising, learning, honing his sermons, and polishing them into gems illuminating the wisdom and foibles of his people.
Saadi distinguished between the spiritual and the practical or mundane aspects of life. In his Bostan, for example, spiritual Saadi uses the mundane world as a spring board to propel himself beyond the earthly realms. The images in Bostan are delicate in nature and soothing. In the Golestan, on the other hand, mundane Saadi lowers the spiritual to touch the heart of his fellow wayfarers. Here the images are graphic and, thanks to Saadi's dexterity, remain concrete in the reader's mind. Realistically, too, there is a ring of truth in the division. The Shaykh preaching in the Khaniqah experiences a totally different world than the merchant passing through a town. The unique thing about Saadi is that he embodies both the Sufi Shaykh and the traveling merchant. They are, as he himself puts it, two almond kernels in the same shell.
Saadi's prose style, described as "simple but impossible to imitate" flows quite naturally and effortlessly. Its simplicity, however, is grounded in a semantic web consisting of synonymy, homophony, and oxymoron buttressed by internal rhythm and external rhyme. Iranian authors over the years have failed to imitate its style in their own language, how can foreigners translate it into their own language, no matter what language?
The world honors Saadi today by gracing the entrance to the Hall of Nations in New York with this call for breaking all barriers:
Of one Essence is the human race,
Thusly has Creation put the Base;
One Limb impacted is sufficient,
For all Others to feel the Mace.
Finals
Japanese Literature
Japanese literature spans a period of almost two millennia and comprises one of the major literatures in the world, comparable to English literature in age and scope. It comprises a number of genres, including novels, poetry, and drama, travelogues, personal diaries and collections of random thoughts and impressions. From the early seventh century until the present there has never been a period when literature was not being produced by Japanese authors. Japan adopted its writing system from China, often using Chinese characters to represent Japanese words with similar phonetic sounds. Early works were heavily influenced by cultural contact with China and Chinese literature, and was often written in Classical Chinese. Though the Japanese writing system was adapted from Chinese, the two languages are unrelated. The rich emotional vocabulary of the Japanese language gave rise to a refined sensitivity of expression, while Chinese was often used to write about more intellectual and abstract concepts such as morality and justice.
The nature of the spoken Japanese language, in which all words end with a simple vowel and stress accents do not exist, shaped the development of poetic forms which were relatively short in length and defined by the numbers of syllables in each line; and which sought above all for precise expression and rich literary allusion. Official court patronage of poetry produced strict artistic codes which dictated the vocabulary and form which could be used for poetic expression. Prose emphasized the smooth transition from one statement to another, rather than organization according to a formal theme.
During the Edo period, the rise of an urban middle class, increased literacy and the importation of Chinese vernacular literature stimulated the development of a number of new genres, such as kabuki theater, comedy, historical romances known as “yomihon,” horror, crime stories, and morality stories. When Japan reopened its ports to Western trading and diplomacy in the nineteenth century, exposure to Western literature influenced Japanese authors to develop more subjective, analytical styles of writing. Today Japanese literature of all periods is enjoyed by modern readers all over the world, who can relate to the sentiments and expressions of emotion which transcend cultural differences and historical distance.
About Japan
The earliest works of Japanese literature include the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki chronicles and the Man'yōshū poetry anthology, all from the 8th century and written in Chinese characters. In the early Heian period, the system of phonograms known as kana (Hiragana and Katakana) was developed. The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter is considered the oldest Japanese narrative. An account of Heian court life is given in The Pillow Book by Sei Shōnagon, while The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu is often described as the world's first novel.
During the Edo period, the chōnin ("townspeople") overtook the samurai aristocracy as producers and consumers of literature. The popularity of the works of Saikaku, for example, reveals this change in readership and authorship, while Bashō revivified the poetic tradition of the Kokinshū with his haikai (haiku) and wrote the poetic travelogue Oku no Hosomichi. The Meiji era saw the decline of traditional literary forms as Japanese literature integrated Western influences. Natsume Sōseki and Mori Ōgai were the first "modern" novelists of Japan, followed by Ryūnosuke Akutagawa, Jun'ichirō Tanizaki, Yasunari Kawabata, Yukio Mishima and, more recently, Haruki Murakami. Japan has two Nobel Prize-winning authors—Yasunari Kawabata (1968) and Kenzaburō Ōe (1994).
Tale of Genji
The Tale of Genji was written shortly after the year 1000 in Japan's Heian era, when the capital was situated at Kyoto.
Genji, the hero of the Tale, is the son of the emperor and his favourite concubine, Kiritsubo. A Korean sage predicts a brilliant future for Genji but his mother suffers the jealousy of rivals at court, becomes ill and dies. The distraught emperor becomes obsessed with the tragic story of Yang Kwei-fei, but eventually finds another concubine, Fujitsubo, who reminds him of his former love.
Since Genji lacks backing at court, the emperor makes him a commoner, assigning him membership of the non-royal Genji clan. The eldest son of the emperor and Lady Kokiden is made crown prince.
Genji becomes an uncommonly handsome and gifted young man, admired by all but feared by Lady Kokiden and her family. The first part of the Tale follows his amorous exploits with a variety of ladies in and around Heian-kyo, his friendship with To no Chujo and arranged marriage to To no Chujo's sister Aoi, the birth of his son and his budding relationship with the young Murasaki.
Meanwhile, the old emperor dies and is succeeded by Lady Kokiden's son. Genji's amorous intrigues cause a scandal at court and he is forced to leave the capital and live in Suma for several years. During this second part of the Tale, Genji meets the ex-Governor of Harima and his daughter The Akashi Lady.
Genji returns to the capital and the emperor abdicates in favour of Fujitsubo's (and secretly Genji's) son. Genji's position at court is restored and the Akashi Lady has a baby girl. Genji then goes on a pilgrimage to the Sumiyoshi Shrine to give thanks to the deity for protecting him during the storm at Suma. After his return to the capital he settles down with Murasaki and several other ladies at his Rokujo Mansion. During this long section of the Tale, Genji's influence at court increases steadily and he is preoccupied with the advancement of his children and grandchildren at court. Genji is persuaded to marry the Third Princess, who gives birth to a son and soon after becomes a Buddhist nun.
In the last 10 chapters, the action shifts to the wild mountain area of Uji and the adventures of Genji's "son" and grandson, Kaoru and Niou, who are friends and rivals in love. The complex plot centres on the daughters of Genji's religious half-brother, the Eighth Prince, and the impetuous Ukifune.
The Tale of Genji had it all - romance, travel, encounters with the supernatural, and a hero so perfect he seemed to belong in a bygone age.
A lady's only escape from a sedentary lifestyle was to undertake occasional pilgrimages to Shinto shrines or Buddhist temples. And to avoid the tedium of life at home, the only real option was to enter court service as a lady-in-waiting for the empress or another royal concubine. Ladies-in-waiting were free to pursue amorous liaisons with the gentlemen at court, which provides the setting for much of the first part of the Tale.
Heian as a gentleman was not very interested in a woman's physical beauty and rarely had an opportunity to see it. The only physical attribute of interest was a woman's hair, which had to be thick and longer than she was tall. The fascination with long hair was one reason why a woman's becoming a nun was regarded with such seriousness - it could never again grow to its full length. This explains why Genji refuses to let Murasaki (his de facto wife in the Tale) take the tonsure when she is ill.
A gentleman was mostly interested in a woman of impeccable breeding, who wrote beautiful poetry and was skilled at calligraphy. Clothing was very important too, and colours had to be perfectly matched. The fashion statement of the day was for ladies to let the overlapping sleeves of their multiple robes be seen protruding from under the edges of their screens or dangling gaily from their carriages. The sleeves attracted the man, and he would fall in love with the author of a sensitive and clever poem.
Male courtiers had plenty of time for pursuing women as their main duties were attending the emperor and little real administrative work was involved. Typically, high-ranking men were polygamous, with an arranged marriage to a principal wife for political reasons, plus several concubines and freedom to play the field. Seduction was largely a matter of getting behind the lady's screens - if she was unwilling - and then everything else followed pretty quickly. In fact, many of the seductions in the Tale could more accurately be described as rape, and some humorous episodes result on the rare occasions that a lady stubbornly defends her honor.
Murasaki Shikibu's epic-length novel, The Tale of Genji, probes the psychological, romantic and political workings of mid-Heian Japan.
The tale spreads across four generations, splashed with poetry and romance and heightened awareness to the fleeting quality of life. Murasaki Shikibu's tale of love, sex, and politics explores a complex web of human and spiritual relationships. This focus on characters and their emotional experience, as compared to plot, makes the novel easily accessible to the modern reader. It explains, in part, why many scholars consider Genji to be the world's first great novel.
The Tale of Genji has had a pervasive influence on later Japanese and world-wide art. It has inspired Noh theater, waka poetry, scroll paintings, pop music and dances. It has had an especially profound influence on Japanese literature. Court fiction for hundreds of years after openly modeled itself after Genji. Present-day writers, including Kawabata Yasunari in his 1968 Nobel Prize acceptance speech, still cite The Tale of Genji as a great influence.
Murasaki Shikibu
Murasaki Shikibu (born 978, Kyto, Japan) Japanese writer. Her real name is unknown, and the primary source of knowledge about her life is a diary she kept (100710). Her Tale of Genji (completed 1010) is a long and complex tale, concerned mostly with the loves of Prince Genji and the women in his life. Supremely sensitive to human emotions and the beauties of nature, it provides delightful glimpses of life at the court of the empress Jt mon'in, whom Murasaki served. It is generally considered the greatest work of Japanese literature and perhaps the world's first novel.
The Madman on the Roof
The Madman on the Roof (or Okujö no kyöjin) is a Japanese play written in 1916 by Kikuchi Kan.
It is a short, funny story about a father who is concerned about his 24-year-old son, who climbs on the roof to watch the sunset. The father is concerned that his son is not entirely sane, and might hurt himself and embarrass the family.
His other son tries to convince his father that as long as his brother isn't hurting anyone, there is no harm in letting him sit on the roof and enjoy the sunset.
The moral of this story is "a madman who is able to enjoy the beauty of a sunset is far better off then the fully sane man who doesn't."
The key to a happy and fulfilled life is not so much achieving big and grand goals; it is just as important to be able to enjoy the simple pleasures in life. The smaller and simpler pleasures can bring you just as much joy and feelings of fulfillment as the larger things if you just take the time to pay attention to them.
The Simplest Things in Life are the Most Valuable. Life is really made up of all the little events and simple, unassuming pieces of happiness. The two extremes, of great sorrow and great happiness only come rarely. For this reason, it is appropriate to believe that these simple events mean the most in life. Moreover, it is the logical progression of these simple events that result in either great happiness or great sorrow, depending upon the nature of the simple events. This can be gauged from the lives of many successful people where small bits and pieces of success aggregate into one big success one day which makes them noticeable. In my opinion, it is really the small things that matter because life is largely made up of them rather than the big, glorified events.
Korean Literature
Korean literature is usually divided chronologically into a classical and a modern period. But the basis for such a division is still being questioned. Great reforms swept Korea after the mid-19th century as its society actively absorbed Western things.
Korea's classical literature developed against the backdrop of traditional folk beliefs of the Korean people; it was also influenced by Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism. Among these, Buddhist influence held the greatest sway, followed by enormous influences from Confucianism - especially Song Confucianism - during the Choson period.
Modern literature of Korea, on the other hand, developed out of its contact with Western culture, following the course of modernization. Not only Christian thought, but also various artistic trends and influences were imported from the West. As the "New Education" and the "National Language and Literature Movement" developed, the Chinese writing system, which had traditionally represented the culture of the dominant class, lost the socio-cultural function it had previously enjoyed. At the same time, the Korean script, Han-gul was being used more and more frequently, resulting in the growth and development of Korean language and literature studies. With the advent of the "new novel" (shinsosol) came a surge in novels written in the Korean script. Music and classical poetry, formerly fused together in a kind of a song called ch'anggok, were now viewed as separate endeavors. New paths opened up for the new literature. While Korea was importing Western culture via Japan or China, it was also carrying out literary reforms from within.
Linguistic expression and manner of transmission are issues of utmost importance in the overall understanding of Korean literature. Korean literature extends over a broad territory: literature recorded in Chinese; and literature written in Han-gul. These two aspects of Korean literature greatly differ from each other in terms of their literary forms and character.
Korean literature in Chinese was created when Chinese characters were brought to Korea. Because Chinese characters are a Chinese invention, there have been times in Korea's history when efforts were made to exclude literature written in Chinese from the parameters of what constitutes Korean literature. But in the Koryo and Choson cultures, Chinese letters were central to Koreans' daily lives. We also cannot overlook the fact that the literary activity of the dominant class was conducted in Chinese. While Chinese-centered ideas and values are contained in this literature - a feature shared by most of East Asia during this period - they also contain experiences and thought patterns that express the unique way of life of the Korean people.
The use of the Korean script began during the Choson period with the creation of the Korean alphabet (Hunmin Chong-um). The creation of the Korean alphabet in the 15th century was a crucial turning point in Korea's literary history. Compared with the literature written in Chinese which was dominated by the upper classes, Korean script made possible the broadening of the literary field to include women and commoners. This expanded the social base of Korean writers and readers alike. The Korean script (Han-gul) assumed its place of leading importance in Korean literature only during the latter half of the 19th century. After the Enlightenment period, the use of Chinese letters swiftly declined and the popularity of Korean letters greatly increased. As soon as the linguistic duality of "Chinese" and "Native" within Korean life was overcome, literature in the Korean script became the foundation upon which the national literature developed.
Korean Novel
“Please Look After Mom” is the work of a popular South Korean novelist, Kyung-sook Shin, who is being published in English for the first time. It sold more than a million copies in South Korea, where there may not be a dry hankie left in the land.
The book is about the selfish family of Park So-nyo, a woman who got lost in the crowd at a train station in Seoul and has not reappeared. Shocked into decency, her husband, two sons and two daughters find themselves replaying all the button-pushing, tear-jerking moments that illustrated this woman’s love and devotion. It would be a grievous understatement to call her a mere martyr.
“Mom,” as she is jarringly called throughout the book’s English version (translated by Chi-Young Kim), was much more than that. But we need to learn about her saintliness in stages. So the book is divided into sections, each devoted to the browbeating of a particular character. Mom’s high-strung careerist daughter and Mom’s faithless husband are both addressed by the author as “you,” as if Ms. Shin means to give each a highly personalized scolding.
Here are the circumstances of Mom’s disappearance, just to give a sampling of the book’s Dickensian extremes: Mom seems to have wandered through Seoul until she became dirty, disheveled and sick. Residents of Seoul recall seeing this lost soul hobbling along on feet that had been cut to the bone by plastic sandals, feet so pustulant that they attracted flies. Step by agonizing step, Mom was limping her way to the place where her favorite child settled in Seoul 30 years earlier.
That favorite child is Hyong-chol, her first-born son. Oh, what a favorite he was. “If she could have, Mom would have come to see him with eggplants or pumpkins tied to her legs,” Ms. Shin writes, using the book’s constant motif of contrasting Mom’s rural, hands-on, family-centric life with the modern, soulless city lives that her children have chosen.
When Mom makes one of her back-breaking day trips to Seoul for a wedding, she typically makes kimchi out of salted cabbage she has brought, scrubs the pots, cleans the stove, sews blanket covers, washes rice, makes bean-paste soup and serves supper. She puts pieces of the meat she has stewed on each of her grown children’s spoons, insisting that she herself is not hungry. Then she picks up and goes home, claiming that she must work in the rice paddies the next day. Her real reason for leaving is that the children’s city quarters are too small to have room for her.
Guilt-tripped by these memories, Hyong-chol vows to treat Mom better — if it isn’t too late. And the family’s older daughter, a snappish writer, realizes that she too has ignored Mom’s needs. This daughter remembers that Mom’s “dark eyes, which used to be as brilliant and round as the eyes of a cow that is about to give birth,” grew dim with pain as Mom began suffering the splitting headaches that nobody much cared about. Two other aspects of Mom’s life that went unnoticed: She was illiterate and had cancer.
The daughter remembers how she was too busy with city life to make anything more than a perfunctory phone call home. She remembers that Mom sold her only ring to pay for tuition, and that when she, the daughter, wanted a book, Mom even sold a favorite puppy. What did this wretched daughter want more than the puppy? A book by Nietzsche: that’s what she wanted.
Mom didn’t always suffer in silence. She was capable of whipping the kids, throwing a table and walking out on her heartless husband after he brought home his girlfriend and installed this woman in the household. Because Mom was always more sensible than anybody else, she rethought this last decision, came back for the sake of her children and kicked out husband and girlfriend. Then she forgave him when, some months later, he came creeping back — alone.
“You spoke politely with others, but your words turned sullen toward your wife,” Ms. Shin intones from atop her very high horse. “Sometimes you even cursed at her. You acted as if it had been decreed that you couldn’t speak politely to your wife. That’s what you did.” “Please Look After Mom” is going to make you pay for that, mister.
Penitence is, after all, this book’s whole point. Characters’ eyes begin watering, pooling with tears, brimming over, etc., as each one has the chance to realize that Mom was a treasure. (Bonus sobbing cue: Nobody knew that Mom was secretly working at an orphanage in her spare time.) Mom’s children start to see how wrong it was to abandon ancestral traditions for their busy, newfangled, heartless, stressed-out city lives.
As Ms. Shin points out, the ancestral rites that used to hold families together are now neglected if they coincide with travel plans. “When people started to hold ancestral rites in time-share vacation condos, they worried about whether the ancestral spirits would be able to find them,” she writes, “but now people just hop on planes.”
So part of this book’s popularity in Korea stemmed from its cautionary powers. But how well will it work elsewhere? Ms. Shin has anticipated that problem by ending the book with a not-to-be-believed scene set in Rome, where Mom is compared to the most sacred of maternal figures. And let’s not underestimate how viscerally the sanctity of motherhood can be exploited as a narrative device. By the end of the book Ms. Shin has been canny enough to make even Mom feel pangs of tearful love for her own Mom. And she has turned the book’s title, which initially sounded like an order, into something much more powerful: a prayer.
Korean Poem
The Silence of Love by Han Yong'un
Love is gone, gone is my love.
Tearing himself away from me he has gone
on a little path that stretches in the splendour of
a green hill into the autumn-tinted forest.
Our last oath, shining and enduring
like a gold-mosaicked flower,
has turned to cold ashes, blown away
in the breath of wind.
I remember his poignant first kiss and its memory
has wrought a complete change in my destiny,
then withdrawn into oblivion.
I hear not his sweet voice; I see not his fair looks.
Since it is human to love, I, alert, dreaded a
parting to come when we met.
The separation came so suddenly
it broke my heart with renewed sorrow.
Yet, I know parting can only destroy our love if
it causes futile tears to fall.
I would rather transfer the surge of this sorrow
onto the summit of hopefulness.
As we dread parting when we meet, so,
we promise to meet again when we part.
Though my love is gone, I am not parted from love;
an untiring love-song envelops the silence of love.
The poem displays a unique exemplification that breaking up is never fun. The end of a relationship means the beginning of a period of mourning and healing for both people. If the break up was mutual both people will experience a period of adjustment where they are getting used to no longer being together. If the break up was not mutual the person who ended things may be dealing with guilt and feelings that they may have made a mistake. The person being broken up with will definitely have to adjust, first to being rejected and second to life without somebody they still care for.
Korean Short Story
Sand: the Story of the Stray Dog in Korea
It is late on a Friday evening, I am watching a movie on an English language TV channel here in Korea, my wife and son are both in bed sound asleep, my beer is finished and I am considering going out for more.
Our family had also, for some time, been considering getting a dog but, as in any country, we had to look into the pro’s and con’s; the practicalities. In Korea, a country infamous for its dog abuse, we thought it would be a good idea. If we could save one dog from the butchers rope (they are hung and left writhing until they die), then that would be great.
So I go out for beer, buy some and as I leave the shop, I start talking to a sandy coloured dog hanging around outside as if waiting for its owner to come out. Soon, I grudgingly say goodbye and head home. But the dog is following. I make a decision. I will take her home.
Next morning I tell my wife and son about the unknown dog waiting in the lobby, hoping there is no mess to clean-up. So this is the start of our of our relationship with our new family member – SAND – the sandy coloured stray dog, rescued from an uncertain but probably nasty future.
Sand was a ‘Noor – rung – hee’ dog; the type Koreans typically (and incorrectly) say is the type specifically raised for eating (MANY breeds are raised and/or eaten). She was definitely quite young, very lean, short-haired, and high-spirited and about mid -sized between a poodle and a retriever.
We weren’t allowed to keep her in our rented 1st floor apartment but we were lucky in that our apartment backed onto some wasteland which, in turn, was adjacent to a great forest. So we bought Sand a dog house and all the usual dog stuff. Every evening we would take her to the forest and let here run around chasing whatever it was she was chasing. And every morning I would take out food and water before I went to work.
One added bonus was that the local kids would go and see her and give her stuff to eat (typically fruit, chocolate and Kimchi). They WERE a bit afraid, but this was understandable as Sand was pretty hyper-active and very excitable. At least she wouldn’t cower away when approached by anyone; a sure sign of abuse. A few times, some of the kids accompanied us to the forest, playing with Sand. This was great as Koreans have a very limited understanding of dogs and here I had a great opportunity to show the kids what a dog really was.
In Korea dogs are two things – if a dog is large (above some unrevealed imaginary threshold size) it is considered suitable for slaughter like a pig or chicken, accept it may be beaten first to improve the flavor and (hmmm) make the male (always male) diner better at sex. However, if it falls below this mystical size it is considered suitable as a living fashion accessory whereby it can be decorated in pink and blue ribbons, washed and bathed like a baby and worn at all the fashionable salons and events attended by city types.
Of course, in reality, that is REAL reality, dogs are neither food nor fashion; they are ubiquitous companions of humanity that have been with us for perhaps as long as 100,000 years and, through selective breeding and natural selection, have now adapted to react to human emotions and conditions more so than any other creature. The problem is, not many Korean know this.
Anyhow, over the next few weeks, Sand made great progress. She became calmer, less excitable, more disciplined and was beginning to learn some basic commands. The kids were also beginning to lose their apprehensions. Even some of the adults, who seemed to disapprove of the idea of having a dog around their neighbourhood and amongst their children, were warming to her.
This all stopped one Friday morning. Somebody had unfastened her from her lead and taken her. In Korea, early summer (start of dog-eating season), this can only mean one thing. Killed and Eaten. It was likely somebody local (our road is a dead-end) and although I was very angry and upset, I wasn’t expecting sympathy. And neither did I get it – just laughter (genuine and nervous) from my Korean friends and colleagues. I just hoped she wasn’t tortured before she died. She certainly had a good life when she was with us – probably longer than if she stayed a stray.
Korean Novel
Rain Shower
By far the most famous short story in Korean literature is Shower (소나기 Sonagi, 1952) written by Hwang Sun-wŏn (1915-2000).
For many Koreans it is the most representative story for portraying the sensibilities that are unique to Korean culture.
All schoolchildren are raised with this story since it has been part of the required curriculum for a long time.
It is a story of two young people on the verge of falling in love. This sweet but sad story about the budding love between the boy and the girl has become a popular topic for novelists and movie directors alike. That the story remains to be popular can be seen in the many cartoons and movies that have been made over the years. Also Hwang Sun-wŏn rightfully got his own museum recently which is called the Sonagi Village and is located in Yangp’yŏng. Established in 2009, the museum organizes all sorts of events to keep promoting Hwang Sun-wŏn’s legacy with a Festival in his name and even a Hang Sun-wŏn Sonagi Marathon. (A small item about the museum can be viewed here. Beware! Don’t fall asleep because of the narrators entertaining voice while watching!)
One of the funnier references to Shower is undoubtedly the short parody that was inserted in the movie My Sassy Girl (2001). The girl being a bit ‘weird’ is dreaming of becoming a scriptwriter and therefore let’s her boyfriend read her scripts to comment on them. Not happy with the ending of her movie, he explains to her that the ending should be more romantic. He is using Hwang Sun-won’s Shower as the example that set the norm for these type of endings, to which she replies that actually Hwang Sun-won’s ending should have been different
Vietnamese Literature
Vietnamese literature is literature, both oral and written, created largely by Vietnamese-speaking people, although Francophone Vietnamese and English-speaking Vietnamese authors in Australia and the United States are counted by many critics as part of the national tradition. For a millennium before the 11th century, Vietnam was dominated by China and as a result much of the written work during this period was in Classical Chinese. Chữ nôm, created around the 10th century, allowed writers to compose in Vietnamese using modified Chinese characters. Although regarded as inferior to Chinese, it gradually grew in prestige. It flourished in the 18th century when many notable Vietnamese writers and poets composed their works in chữ nôm and when it briefly became the official written script. While the quốc ngữ script was created in the 17th century, it did not become popular outside of missionary groups until the early 20th century, when the French colonial administration mandated its use in French Indochina. By the mid-20th century, virtually all Vietnamese works of literature were composed in quốc ngữ.
Vietnamese Poetry
The Tale of Kieu
Cỏ non xanh tận chân trời
Cành lê trắng điểm một vài bông hoa
Lom khom dưới núi tiều vài chú
Lác đác bên sông chợ mấy nhà
Ao thu lạnh lẽo nước trong veo
Một chiếc thuyền câu bé tẻo teo
Sóng biếc theo làn hơi gợn tí
Lá vàng trước gió khẽ đưa vèo.
Em nghe thầy đọc bao ngày
Tiếng thơ đỏ nắng, xanh cây quanh nhà
Mái chèo nghiêng mặt sông xa
Bâng khuâng nghe vọng tiếng bà năm xưa
The poem is written by Nguyen Du. This poem manifests in the use of onomatopoeic words like "ri rao" (rustling), "vi vut" (whistling), "am am" (banging), "lanh canh" (tinkling), etc. Writing this kind of poetry demands analytical skills to dissect the compound words and succinct words. Imagery, or the use of words to create images, is another fundamental aspect of this poem. Due to the influence of the concept of visual arts in the times of the poet, Nguyễn Du usually employs "scenery description" style in his poems. Simple scenery, accentuated at certain points, gently sketched but irresistible.
Vietnamese Short Story
On the river
By LE LUU
At nine o'clock in the evening, Old Khiem put out his light, spread himself on the bottom of the small boat, arms folded under his head, to listen in the silence of the night to the underwater goings on of ‘his’ fishes. Over the width of the river the crests of waves glistened like a stars. Occasionally the raucous cry of a frog broke the silence or the dull splash of night hunting creatures as they ran along the banks echoed across the water. As the night wore on the wind dropped and mist crept over the whole expanse of the river.
At first a few fish leapt out of water, falling back with a hardly perceptible splash. But presently all around Old Khiem' s boat such splashes grew louder and more frequent. The old man began talking to himself with delight:
"A ha, that's fine - come on my little friends. Come and present yourselves to me. Never fear. I can't see you but I know you very well all the same... Come on..."
Suddenly he stopped, holding his breath:
‘Wait a bit. That sounds like my friend the Shad - with her around firm body and pinched in waist, a regular dainty miss... hold on- oops!
‘Now then here comes Mr Carassin, as thin and flat as a sycomore leaf. As for that short heavy splash without doubt that must be dame carp making a dive for it. Aha that flippety flop of troubled waters, that could be some big perch chasing after a shoal of little frightened gudgeon.’
Silence... then suddenly the voice of the old man again, this time exultant:
"Oho a pike - a pike... It's all up with you - you old bastard. I know you alright. Nobody else has that way of flapping the water when he jumps, with that enormous tail. Your trouble is you’re too fat – eh? – and it’s a bit of an effort clearing the water – One moment – Just to take a nice breath of fresh air – then flop! – away we go!’
Every night follows more or less the same pattern, the frenzied leaping and diving then sudden compete silence. After a long interval Old Khiem knows from experienced that a slight tap on the surface of the water will start the whole thing going again. "Here comes a sheat-fish. Don’t be, bashful my beauty. Just because you’re a bit sticky and covered with spots you needn’t be ashamed. Are you waiting for all the others to go away? Come on my dear Oops there, off she goes!"
While waiting for the fish to come and nibble his bait the old man is busy calculating in his head the quantity and types of fish that he must supply for the festivities on the following day.
Since he was seven years old Khiem often went with his father to help him in his work on this same stretch of the river. During the "dark years’ of the anti-French resistance, he lived by fishing alone and become the most skilful fisherman of the village. When peace returned, he took to operating the ferry as did his father. But since the establishment of AA defence units by the river for the protection of the outer periphery of Hanoi against US planes he took to fishing again as his main activity to supply food for the army. It is thanks to him that every week the soldiers are able to enjoy at least one good meal of fresh fish to vary their ordinary fare.
But just now he has very important tasks for the following evening, one that concerns him personally and to which he plans to devote the whole day.
Without imagining what the old man would plan the head of the unit had confided a secret to him.
"The next day a number of comrades from the unit are due to depart on a distant mission and a farewell party is being planned."
In such a case there is only one thing to be done. Everything else must wait, his first concern must be to provide a feast. This is the reason why he has spent the whole night watching for fish.
In the morning as he got back to the house he handed over to his daughter five big bream and hundred or so ablets which he asked her to gut and prepare for cooking.
"Did you think of buying a bundle of incense sticks?’ he asked.
"Yes, Papam,’ she replied, "but you know – if it doesn’t interfere with your plans I would be glad if you could get back a little earlier. I have things to do in the afternoon.
"Alright, my chick, you don’t need to tell me."
Then he added in a lower tone, carefully avoiding his daughter"s eyes, so as not to betray his feelings:
"You must see that you"ve got everything you need or you"ll have a terrible lot to do the day you leave."
So saying he went back to the river. The nets he had attached to the delicate rods were positioned some distance from the river bank. With extreme care he felt each wand in turn, testing them between his finger and thumb. The stretched framework shivered in the water like the handle of a monochord vibrating in the hand of a musician, but he felt no tension or weight further down.
"Hell, that's bad- very bad" muttered the old man frowning.
It was a grey morning with low hanging clouds. In early Spring if the weather remains dry it means that the season has not yet warmed up.
"They may have gone to look for food a bit deeper" thought the old man pensively.
For a long time he sat motionless and silent then he announced decisively.
"Alright – good, if it's that way I'll try something else. We'll see"
He took off his clothes and, diving into the water, began to search about for a better place to fix his nets, after which he patiently set about moving every one. Having done this he was preparing to go on to inspect his other nets when suddenly he remembered something and hastily went back to the house.
His daughter Hai was cleaning the fish beside a large bowl of water. For about half a year now this pretty and shy young girl had been attracting an increasing number of suitors to the modest three-roomed cottage by the river dyke.
Saturday evenings they would file in from all directions, young students fresh from study at the naval dockyard, young men from the dyke repair service, soldiers, workers, young fishermen from trawlers who had to put in because of the fighting. The girl welcomed everyone with a strange smile which was peculiarly her own and very soon would find some excuse disappearing.
Her father was then left with no alternative but to determine his attitude towards these young suitors according to that of his daughter. It soon was clear to him that not one of them found any special favour in her eyes. However, there came a day when she found herself suddenly so taken aback, so embarrassed by the presence of a young soldier from the anti-aircraft section that she could do nothing but blush and stammer and twist the ends of her hair.
Immediately Tung arrived in the neighbourhood he began to get acquainted with the local people, and very soon discovered that the girl's father had at one time given shelter to his own father. Thus there already existed a link between them to predispose them to a tie of friendship.
Very soon their relationship became such that it could no longer be kept secret from anyone.
In a few single strokes Hai finished her work by cutting and peeling into the water five bunches of green bananas. She had cleaned and laid aside a few dozen of the biggest fish, keeping the others for soup. She had just finished cutting up the bream and putting them in the stewing pot and was pouring the water in when her father appeared.
"Well, have you finished my pet?" he asked playfully "Take the sticky rice out of that pot and hand it over to me. I am going to cook the fish."
"No, no, papa, I've cut them all up already and I'm going to make soup with the others," replied his daughter, very pleased at having finished her tasks so soon.
"Stop, stop!" cried the old man, "don"t do it – stop will you!"
He almost shouted at his daughter who was about to pour the water into the pot. With her arm still raised she looked at her father, astonished at this outburst. Being accustomed to be treated with consideration, this peremptory manner made the tears spring to her eyes. Without a word the old man removed the pieces of fish from the pan and laid them carefully in a basket. His irritation quickly evaporated when he saw the cheeks of his daughter wet with tears. He didn't dare to look again at that dear face, especially when it reminded him, dimples and all, of the face of the wife he had lost. He felt sorry for having spoken crossly to his daughter.
"After all," he thought, "the fault was mine for forgetting to give the right instructions before I went out this morning."
A moment later when the bream began to simmer in their bed of herbs and the stream from the doc (a kind of wild berry) began to fill the little kitchen with its appetising smell the old man smiled at his daughter.
"What a ninny eh? You forgot who I was keeping the bream for?"
Hai was absent-minded of cause: being in love, her head was usually in the clouds. Her father brought her back to earth. By this time she was so upset that there was nothing she could not do but run to her room bury her head in the pillow and sob with shame and rage that she should have forgotten.
"Oh dear Papa – how could I? Please forgive me!"
Every year on this day of the anniversary of his wife"s death, papa Khiem does his utmost to bring home some bream, those with small heads, rather a rare species here, with which he prepares with his own hands, a special stew flavoured with doc.
"You know," he told his daughter when she was still a child, "when your mother was pregnant she was always wanting these fish cooked with doc, though they are not considered very good for the women in childbirth. Never mind, this was the only thing she asked for, so I got them for her. Then when the time came that I had to find rice to feed the armymen, I was selling all the fish I caught to buy rice. Once I happened to bring in a dozen of these big bream and of course I wanted to keep a few for your mother. But she wouldn't hear of it – not her. She insisted that I sell them all to get rice for the guerrillas."
