Sei was a gentlewoman at the court of Empress Teishi, who lived at the end of the tenth century in what was then Japan’s capital, Kyoto. This book is similar to a journal, broken off into sections of varying lengths and subject matter—each section might be full of an anecdote, a reminisce of a memorable event, personal opinions, explanations of court etiquette, and gossip. Sei claims, “I have written in this book things I have seen and thought, in the long idle hours spent at home, without ever dreaming that others would see it.”
Much of courtly life in Japan revolved around religious ceremonies, festivals, and the readings of the Buddhist sutras. Sei had a unique opinion on what made these go best, “A priest who gives a sermon should be handsome. After all, you’re most aware of the profundity of his teaching if you’re gazing at his face as he speaks. If your eyes drift elsewhere you tend to forget what you’ve just heard, so an unattractive face has the effect of making you feel quite sinful.”
Amongst the book’s sections, Sei often included short lists, “Refined and elegant things – A girl’s over-robe of white on white over pale violet-grey. The eggs of the spot-billed duck. Shaved ice with a sweet syrup, served in a shiny new metal bowl. A crystal rosary. Wisteria flowers. Snow on plum blossoms. An adorable little child eating strawberries.” These lists were often quite funny, “Worthless things – Someone who’s both ugly and unpleasant.… And why should I avoid mentioning here the fire tongs that are burned in the post-funeral fire? After all, these are things that exist in the world. I never intended this book to be seen by others, so I’ve written whatever came into my mind, without worrying about whether people would find it strange or unpleasant.”
Other sections of Sei’s book are detailed vignettes typical to courtly life, “Another scene of fascinating elegance – it’s very late at night, Her Majesty has retired to her chamber, everyone is asleep and outside a lady is sitting talking with a senior courtier. From within comes the frequent sound of go stones dropping into the box. Delightful too to hear the soft sound of fire tongs being gently pushed into the ash of the brazier, and sense from this the presence of someone who isn’t yet asleep…. A person who stays up late is always elegantly intriguing. You wake in the night to lie there listening through the partition, and realize from the sounds that someone is still up. You can’t hear what is said, but you catch the sound of a man’s soft laugh, and you long to know what they’re saying together.”
Sei’s family were renown for their skill at poetry. Throughout her book, Sei alludes to many poems, as well as often interspersing snippets within her stories. This tale involves Sei escorting the Empress to the Emperor’s quarters for the night before returning home, “‘Are you going back?’ inquired the Grand Counsellor. ‘Let me see you home.’ I hung my train and Chinese jacket on the standing screen, and we set off. His cloak glowed wonderfully white in the bright moonlight, and he trod the loosened hems of his gathered trousers as he walked. ‘Don’t fall,’ he said, taking hold of my sleeve, and then he delighted me by reciting ‘The wanderer sojourns on beneath the late moon.’ ‘You do get pleasure out of that sort of thing, don’t you!’ he remarked with a smile – but really, how could you not find it enchanting?”
Towards the end of this book (and also probably towards the end of life when the Empress is already dead and she is no longer living at court), Sei ponders, “Is there any occasion to match a moonlit night for sending your thoughts winging to distant places, and recalling past moments, their sorrows and joys and pleasures, as if it were today?”
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