Maison Ikkoku

 

While we usually do not consume romantic comedies, a rekindled interest in anime and manga drew us back to Maison Ikkoku. We adored the soundtrack, slice of life aspects and slow pace of this 1980s show, but it was excessively long. There was no reason to extend it to 96 episodes. Nor did we need that pointless film with the different character designs (although we liked the Michael Jackson poster). As the series began to run too long and certain characters disappear for long stretches, it seemed like the story was just grasping for any plot device to prevent Godai and Kyoko from confessing their feelings. To their credit, the animation improved and some of the antics of the Maison Ikkoku tenants continued to entertain. Nonetheless, this is a very endearing tale of widow and her tenant falling in love with a colorful ensemble of characters (who can forget Mitaka or Yotsuya?). If only it could have been condensed into 52 episodes or perhaps even fewer so I would have watched it 2 or 3 years ago...

Madhav & Kama: A Love Story from Ancient India

A.N.D. Haksar's translation of the short tale Madhav & Kama: A Love Story from Ancient India is an interesting read for those interested in prose (or mostly prose) writings from the Sanskrit language. While differing from the literary standards of Dandin or works like Kadambari for its simplistic plot structure and avoidance of the excessively descriptive passages, the author of the original manuscript must have been aware of the earlier romance narratives in Sanskrit literature. Madhavanala Kamakandala Katha, unfortunately, lacks the excitement or engaging stories of Dandin. Here, a brahmin and a courtesan fall in love, consummate their relationship, are separated after a king banishes Madhav, and reunited after King Vikramaditya defeats Kama Sena. With the exception of being more sensual and erotic than, say, ancient Greek romances, this tale reads like a weaker, less developed version of a romance, akin to Ephesian Tale. Because it is a story from several centuries ago, divinities and miraculous events happen, such as the resurrection of the two lovers. It also extolls the importance of caste and merit, for both are necessary for the ideal individual. Again, hardly a surprise. We will have to revisit this text after reading more Sanskrit texts.

The Greek Alexander Romance

Although it has questionable historical value, The Greek Alexander Romance, of which the earliest translation from the Greek dates to the fourth century, is an entertaining fictionalized version of Alexander the Great's conquests. Since it appears to have been written in Egypt and draws from a variety of sources across its many translations and adaptations, Alexander the Great's father is now Nectanebo and his conquests take him to the edge of the world. He encounters wild beasts and men, engages with exotic rulers in India, Asia, and Meroe, and appears to be Christian or a monotheist in some of the recensions of the text. The translator, Richard Stoneman, includes variants from different versions of the tale so one can get an idea of the full breadth and diversity of Alexander's adventures. Thus, like The Story of Apollonius, King of Tyre, some convergence of Christian and pagan themes appear in the text, although much of the Jewish and Christian themes were added by later translations of Christian authors. For instance, the Queen of Meroe's letter to Alexander mirrors Christian symbolism of dark skin and white (pure) souls, and in another episode from a later version, Alexander pledges submission to the one God of the Jews.

Overall, the story is very loosely based on the historical conquests of Alexander across Egypt, Persia, the Levant, and India, and it relies on some of the same conventions of the earlier Greek romances (ruses, deception, oracles, deux ex machina, fantastic creatures or wildlife, exotic lands beyond the eastern Mediterranean, Greek versus barbarian dichotomies). In some respects, this romance brings to mind Callirhoe and Heliodorus's famous work in that it revolves around fictionalized tales of historical figures fighting against the Persians. Unfortunately, without two protagonists who fall in love at first sight, there is not much drama or reason to invest in Alexander as a character. There is not much dramatic tension in the tale since the reader is to know immediately of Alexander's intelligence, noble character, and military prowess. Even when he defeats Darius of Persia, the battles described do not match those of the Greek romances. Nonetheless, as an account of unbelievable adventures of the known and unknown world, it suffices as entertainment. It also provides an interesting account of the origins of Alexandria and its future as a cosmopolitan metropolis. 

Hysmine and Hysminias

A medieval writer hailing from an elite Constantinople family wrote an erotically charged romance directly inspired by ancient Greek romances preceding him by several centuries. Perhaps most closely based on Achilles Tatius's Leucippe and Clitophon, Eumathios Makrembolites manages to write with perhaps even more ekphrasis than his influences and far more sexually-charged prose. For, Hysmine and Hysminias, despite hailing from the pen of a Christian writer of the Eastern Roman Empire, is far more erotic and, in some passages, pornographic, than anything from Achilles Tatius or the other extant romances. Nonetheless, it makes up for this NSFW quality by featuring far less of the action-packed adventures and exotic travails than Leucippe and Clitophon, with the action of the story taking place mostly in Eurykomis, Aulikomis, Artykomis and Daphnepolis, four unspecified cities linked to various gods (Zeus, Artemis, Apollo) and some hazardous journeys at sea (including the appearance of "Ethiopian" pirates who are presumably the Byzantine equivalent to the dark-skinned Egyptian Nile Delta bandits of Achilles Tatius) . 

Indeed, nearly half of the text is occupied by the initial flirtations and devoted love of Hysmine and Hysminias, with the latter a herald to Hysmine's town for a Zeus festival. Initially unaffected by the arrows of Eros, he falls head over heels for Hysmine after a very lengthy time studied a garden wall painting of the god of love. Eros, or Cupid, is depicted as an emperor to whom all beings fall in tribute, and the use of ekphrasis by Makrembolites serves the plot very effectively and visually. The paintings on the garden wall, their symbolism, and the erotic dreams of Hysminias are all visually rich passages showing the powers of dreams. By the time the two lovers finally elope and plan to sail to Syria, one is glad the action of the story has finally progressed. Separated at sea by Poseidon, the two are separated as Hysmine is sacrificed for the god's appeasement. Left on shore due to his lamentations and grief, Hysminias is kidnapped by black pirates (again, likely inspired by the ancient Egyptian bandits or, perhaps, black pirates who had served with Arab armies in attacks on the Byzantine Empire?) who present an example of the dichotomy of barbarians and Greeks. It is not due to their skin color that they are savage, but their brute nature and non-Greek customs. For what it is worth, these black pirates don't rape their virgin captives, but end up becoming slaves themselves in a raid by the army of Daphnepolis.

Meanwhile, Hysmine is miraculously saved by a dolphin and Eros himself, who carries her to shore. Somehow, Hysmine was taken by the same ship of pirates herself but did not see Hyminias on their trireme. Both eventually end up as slaves who use the subterfuge of appearing to be siblings to resume some of their physical affection. Then, miraculously during the sacrifice at the altar of Apollo, the two are reunited with their parents, demand their freedom from slavery, and marry happily. Like the Greek romances, there is a lot of unexplained and random good fortune to match their misery, but not nearly enough exotic adventures. Moreover, Kratisthenes, the loyal cousin who counseled Hysminias and helped prepare for the doomed elopement to Syria, is not reunited with the family. One cannot help but feel the ancient Greek romances would have included loyal relatives in the triumphal marriage and faily reunion. Further, besides Syria and the dark-skinned pirates, there are no series of travails across the Mediterranean world or Middle East (which may reflect the decreased size of the empire by the time of Makrembolites). The black pirates represent the non-Greek world, but none are given a voice in the narrative besides their debauchery and looting. 

Despite its flaws and shortcomings when compared to the romances which predate it by 800 years, Hysmine and Hysminias remains a fascinating work of a Christian imagination set in the pagan Greek world. It's far more sexual and descriptive of the physical embraces of the hero and heroine, but still puts the ultimate value on virginity before marriage. As a story of the heroine rejecting the approved suitor of her parents for her true love, it stands as a romance urging free love, to a degree. In some respects it also brings to mind Daphnis and Chloe in the initially awkward and clumsy flirtations of the characters learning love for the first time. Yet is in in its dream sequences and examples of ekphrasis where its combination of realistic sexual relationships and pre-Christian gods that show the genius of Makrembolites in building the narrative's world as it is and how it should be. One must read the other contemporary Byzantine romances to further contextualize how Hysmine and Hysminias imagines the pre-Christian past, but one cannot help but feel this is unique in the annals of the genre. 

Tales of the Ten Princes

Reading so much prose fiction from the ancient Greek world and the Roman Empire has pushed me to the east, to enjoy fiction from India and other parts of Asia. While it is not a novel, Dandin's Tales of the Ten Princes uses the frame story of Rajahavana reuniting with his fellow allies as they plan to defeat the king who unseated Rajahamsa, his father. As each prince (descendants of other kings or royal ministers to Rajavahana's father) reunites with Rajavahana, they regale him (and the reader) with their various exploits, ruses, adventures, battles, and supernatural encounters across the Indian subcontinent. 

Not surprisingly, like the various inset tales in Apuleius's The Golden Ass other works of fiction from the Greco-Roman world, many of Dandin's tales here revolve around magic, banditry, trickery, love at first sight, forest tribes, court intrigue, courtesans, proper conduct (or lackthereof), and merchants (there are allusions to Chinese silk, and even Greek sailors and merchants) with access to great wealth and exotic goods. Moreover, Kama, the Indian Eros or Cupid, is constantly invoked and present in the text, much as in the Greek romances. Indeed, various references to Hindu sacred texts, Jains, Buddhists, ascetics, and the pantheon of gods makes it clear that a proper understanding of this text requires a deep immersion into Indian history, epics, and religion. Similarly, one requires such a background to understand many of the allusions in the Greek romances, but the Western reader will already possess some of the requisite background knowledge.

Since most of the princes engage in various forms of immoral conduct or trickery, including sleeping with a married woman in one case, to gain their kingdom, the narrative seems to gain much of its humor and traction from the contradiction between proper ethics and the reality of lived experience. These characters are far less noble than the lovers of Greek romances, but one cannot help but admire and enjoy their misdeeds and adventures. Unfortunately, some of the tales repeat the same types of ruses and the convoluted stories within stories within another story structure can lead to confusion. Perhaps fewer princes and more attention on Rajavahana would have created a more compelling central thread, as in the case of Lucius in The Golden Ass. Nontheless, it is an engaging work that takes the reader on a journey across the various social classes, castes, kingdoms, and beliefs of India in the 7th century, and perhaps an Eastern variant of the picaresque tales of Western fiction. 

Daphnis And Chloe

Daphis and Chloe is the last of the 5 Greek 'romances' this blog has covered, this one from the Penguin Classics collection of Greek Fiction. Unique in that nearly all of the story transpires on the beautiful island of Lesbos and its pastoral setting, it tells of the budding romance of Daphnis and Chloe. Both exposed at birth, suckled by animals, and raised by "rustics" before their noble birth is revealed, their link is favored by Pan, the Nymphs, and Eros (Love). One sees similarities with the other Greek romances in the appearances of pirates, an attempted rape, intrigues between rival suitors, the virtue of chastity, and references to earlier ancient Greek myths. Nevertheless, Longus's novel features more characterization and as an idyll to pastoral romance is more evocative of its setting (the landscape, flora, and fauna).

However, since the two protagonists of this story are, even at the conclusion of the final book, beautiful "rustics," Longus's tale reveals something of the urban-rural divide in the ancient world. "Rustics" have simple pleasures, are lacking in the refinement and mores of the townsfolk of Mytilene and Methymna. For instance, residents of the latter invade the peaceful countryside for their pleasure and amusement, and abuse countryfolk such as Daphnis. Gnathon's pederasty is contrasted with the "natural" sexual expression of goats and sheep, perhaps reflecting another difference between city slickers and country folk. Moreover, Daphnis's initiation in the erotic arts begins through a married woman from the city, suggestive of another difference between city and countryside that reflects poorly on the morality of the former. Daphnis's adoptive parents are themselves the slaves of Dionysophanes, owner of the estate they toil on, and if it weren't for the tokens they found with an infant Daphnis, they would have been forced to give their son as a slave for the pleasure of Gnathon.

While there is nothing in the novel to suggest a protest against unequal land distribution or the institution of slavery, one detects there to be an inkling of the dangers of a disconnect between the city and its surrounding countryside. The city-state and its rural attachments must exist in a symbiotic relationship to ensure their survival, and the continued attachment of both Daphnis and Chloe to what becomes their estate (and a wedding celebration in the rustic manner) may signify the importance of the urban elites not distancing themselves too much from the "simple" peasants and agricultural laborers. Or, perhaps, this is just reading too much into an enchanting coming-of-age romance.

Callirhoe

Chariton's Callirhoe may be the earliest of the extant Greek romances. It's a work of historical fiction drawing upon fictionalized figures from the history of Sicily, the Persian Empire, and all the conventions and cliches of the romance in the early centuries of the Roman Empire. Like most of the other five romances, Callirhoe and Chaereas are in love but are separated due to intrigue, jealousy, and fate. Eventually, after undergoing a number of ordeals and adventures around the Mediterranean, Ionia, and the Middle East, they return to Syracuse and celebrate their martial reunion. Constant references to Homer, earlier Greek literary precedents, and the intervention of Aphrodite and Eros proliferate throughout the text.

Like Heliodorus's more exciting Aethiopica, the Persian Empire makes an appearance and provides some exotic flavor since part of the narrative takes place in Babylon. Persian and non-Greek "barbarian" customs and autocratic rule are contrasted with Greek nobility and chastity. Invocations of the Peloponnesian War and the Battle of Thermopylae clearly inspired parts of the narrative's war sequences. For example, Chaereas leads 300 Greeks in the army of the Egyptian rebel king to take Tyre from the Persians. Like his father-in-law, Hermocrates of Syracuse, he leads the Egyptian naval forces against the Persian forces just as Hermocrates defeated the Athenians at sea. There's also a fair amount of battles, tomb-robbing, imperial court trials, crucifixions, tortures, and amorous intrigues to entertain and provide a model of sorts for later Greek romances. Nearly every male who sees Callirhoe wants her, including the Great King, an arbiter of justice, lusting for a married woman. 

However, in Callirhoe, it is primarily the woman rather than the male who occupies more of the narrative. For much of tale, Chaereas is bemoaning the loss of Callirhoe and attempting suicide before his friend Polycharmus prevents it. Callirhoe, on the other hand, beseeches Aphrodite and manages to save her child and (most) of her chastity while various men vie for her affection. Callirhoe is, despite her passivity in some cases, is the more active of the pair until the final book, when Chaereas leads the Egyptians to victory in a naval battle against the Persian king. But perhaps the exotic and trying adventures of Callirhoe is better used to provide a backdrop to the barbarian/Greek dichotomy. Barbarians are woman-mad, autocratic, and lacking in the virtues of Greeks. While individual 'barbarians' could be noble or chaste, the experience of Callirhoe with the Persians illustrates otherwise. So, like Heliodorus's tale, the idea of difference animates much of the novel, though Chareas and Callirhoe long to return to their Greek world rather than escape it. 

Ephesian Tale

Xenophon of Ephesus's Ephesian Tale is the shortest of the five ancient Greek "novels" or romances. Possibly because it is an epitome of a longer work, it moves rather quickly in the plot of its two young lovers, Habrocomes and Anthia, who become enamored at first sight in their hometown of Ephesus. Like the other ancient Greek romances, the two vow their allegiance to the the other but are separated and reunited after surviving pirate attacks, oracles, enslavement, banditry, executions, poisoning, being buried alive, lustful men and women interested in both for their beauty and the intervention of the gods (of Greek and Egyptian extraction). Their trials bring them across the Mediterranean and the fringes of the Hellenistic world, including Egypt, "Ethiopia" (Nubia), the Levant, Asia Minor, Sicily, and Italy. 

Despite its short length and the lack of developed characters, the narrative manages to engage the reader with the sense of wonder and adventure. It follows many of the same conventions as the other surviving romances of its era, such as piracy in the Mediterranean, extended backgrounds of each main character as they are introduced, Egyptian bandits of the Nile Delta, and exotic peoples and gods whose intercession shapes the lives of the two protagonists. The god of the Nile himself directly intercedes on the behalf of Habrocomes, saving his life with his waters from a crucifixion and the flames of a pyre. It is at the temple of Isis in Memphis where Anthia is able to prevent her rape by Polyidus, who routs Hippothous's band of robbers. Intriguingly, this "novel" is also the first to be partially set in "Ethiopia," where Hippothous and his bandits have moved to raid traders en route to India and exotic lands. Cosmopolitan Alexandria also makes an appearance, where an Indian ruler named Psammis is visiting and buys Anthia as his lave, hoping to woo her. 

Exotic Indian rulers and allusions to the lucrative trade through the Red Sea from Egypt and the Nile may have been a precedent for the allusions to the wealth of "Ethiopia" in Heliodorus's more successful novel of the 300s. The translator of the edition read for this post, Graham Anderson, questions the geographic knowledge of Xenophon, but it is perfectly plausible that Egypt, Nubia ("Ethiopia") and India intersected through the Red Sea and overland trade routes from the Nile Valley, although the exploits of Hippothous and his bandits in Coptos and Nubia are not fully detailed. Indeed, they later endeavor to leave "Ethiopia" because they missed attacking larger towns and settlements instead of the individual traders and small groups (such as that of Psammis, returning to India) they attacked on the borderlands of Egypt and what must be the kingdom of Meroe. Nonetheless, this partial setting of the story in "Ethiopia" links Nile Valley banditry in southern Egypt with the vast wealth and exoticism of Africa and India, which is clearly a theme of Helodorus's Aethiopika. While there are no "Ethiopian" characters in the novel, the Nile itself and Egyptian settings present an exotic and challenging set of ordeals the two lovers endure to reaffirm their chastity or virtue. 

Leucippe and Clitophon

Leucippe and Clitophon seems to be unique among the extant ancient Greek "novels" for its use of a first-person narrator, who tells his tale to the initial narrator in the beginning of the text. In other respects, it is quite similar to the other Greek romances in that two young people fall in love at first sight but must endure a number of trials before consummating their relationship in proper marriage. The virtue of virginity for maidens and the intervention of the deities (especially Eros, Aphrodite, Artemis and Poseidon) or deus ex machina are, as in Heliodorus's novel, prolific. The author, Achilles Tatius of Alexandria, is believed to have composed the romance in the early 1st century of our era, thus predating Helidorus but drawing on similar precedents from earlier texts and Greek literature and mythology. In addition, Achilles Tatius is a master of vivid prose describing works of art, as well as the wondrous Nile of his Egyptian homeland. 

Though the kissing cousins are of Tyre and Byzantium, it is in Egypt where their most exotic and exciting escapades occur. Menelaus, the Egyptian native and proponent of pederasty (like Clinias, a cousin of Clitophon who loses his lover, Charicles), becomes a guide of sorts, a familiar Other who assists Clitophon, Leucippe, Clinias, and Satyrus for their survival in exotic Egypt. Achilles Tatius has them fend off dark-skinned bandits in the Nile Delta (not as black as Indians, but akin to "half-caste Ethiopians"), witness battles between the Egyptian army and said bandits, experience the lighthouse at Pharos near Alexandria, and hear descriptions of elephants while gazing upon the fauna of the Nile, particularly the crocodile and hippopotamus. In cosmopolitan Alexandria, Clitophon, believing Leucippe dead for the umpteenth time, agrees to marry Melite, a wealthy presumed widow of Ephesus, shifting the story's center away from Egypt for the final denouement and reunion of the the two lovers. 

But let us return to the Egyptian exoticism and African references in the tale. The Nile itself becomes a character, as its waters and the soil of the delta converge and separate, creating the marshes, streams, and lakes of the Delta region. In Tatius's novel, the legendary phoenix, which lives upriver in "Ethiopia," land associated with the Sun, comes to Egypt to die and thus reaffirms the cycle of life from the Nile's origins in the land of the Sun to Egypt. Egypt is a land of wonders (fauna, Alexandria), of horrors (a fake human sacrifice to appease the bandits is organized by Menelaus and Satyrus) and, I would argue, where the debased nature of Thersander of Ephesus is compared to the bestial bandits and conniving characters lusting for Leucippe (Chaereas, Charmides). The Egyptian setting occupies a central middle part of the narrative, after the elopement of Leucippe and Clitophon from Tyre and the subsequent shipwreck, thus, the exotic world(s) of the Nile presents the otherworldly ordeals of the two lovers must persevere against to achieve their union.

In the Flicker of an Eyelid

After reading the praise of Alexis's last novel in Le cri des oiseaux fous from the Dominican prostitute Mercedes, one felt compelled to read Alexis's tale of a Cuban prostitute in 1940s Port-au-Prince during Holy Week. Translated by Coates and Edwidge Danticat, one can feel satisfied knowing Danticat's lyrical voice and storytelling would capture the voice of the author. Alexis creates a vivid portrait drawing on all the senses to bring Port-au-Prince to life, particularly the crossroads of Portail Leogane and the heterogeneous Caribbean working-class. Jamaicans, Venezuelans, Cubans, Haitians, and others mingle in a society on the cusp of change as the upcoming Bicentennial Exposition and labor unrest in Cuba and Haiti foreshadow social and political change. Furthermore, unlike General Sun, My Brother, which felt occasionally overly didactic, this tale of love and redemption features the author's unavoidable socialist politics without the sounds of a protest novel.

Nonetheless, as a pivotal figure in the annals of Haitian Left, Alexis' novel provides some interesting opportunities to see how his literary imagination and Marxist inclinations coalesced. Here, it seems that the Caribbean woman La Niña, cannot find true sexual pleasure or love and, due to capitalism and imperialism, finds her options limited. Becoming a prostitute who rejected any pimp did afford a certain amount of power to her, since she was able to save her earnings, but the brutalized nature of her work (including servicing of American marines, which naturally brings to mind the US Occupation of Haiti as well as US imperialism across the region) prevents this virginal sex worker from finding any form of happiness. However, as she and her fellow residents of the Sensation Bar indicate, all women in sexist, capitalist societies are reduced to a similar status, regardless of bourgeois morality and religion denigrating sex workers. Indeed, Alexis's pro-labor politics even has a character contemplate a labor union of prostitutes. 

El Caucho, the Cuban mechanic (also, of Haitian descent through his mother) who needs La Niña just as much as she needs him to reawaken, or resurrect her past self in this Holy Week where rara drums are inescapable, represents the insurgent Caribbean worker on the move. However, he, like La Niña, is searching for love, something to complement his socialist vision of a greater future where love and reason unite for a post-capitalist order. Perhaps this is the marvelous realism of a socialist aesthetics and politics in the Caribbean, where love is selfless and the Caribbean unites. El Caucho as an allegorical Caribbean proletarian, particularly in his critiques of the Haitian political system, the limitations of the Bicentennial Exposition (millions wasted that could have been used to build factories and create jobs for La Saline or other slums of Port-au-Prince), the confused garbling of Marxists in the Fédération des Travailleurs Haitiens, or his own need for true friendship and intimacy, is seeking a rebirth or redemption like La Niña.

The novel is truly an engaging read that sensually walks one through the romance as two bodies (re)discover themselves and contemplate their place in a larger Caribbean world. Cuba's Oriente, unsurprisingly, is central here, especially as a region with strong links to the rest of the archipelago. The sun, sea, flora, fauna, landscape, colors, aromas, sights, religious fervor, and music are vividly described in great detail. This pattern resembles General Sun, My Brother but within a pan-Caribbean universe that rejects easy conclusions or answers. The novel seems to function as proof that marvelous realism, finding the marvels of everyday reality, could be the necessary component for Caribbean socialist literature to embrace local ways of knowing and being in the world. As an example of the working-class literature in the years after 1946, it also serves as a testament to a changing Port-au-Prince in which organized labor was on the rise while transitioning to the urban behemoth it is today with its semi-employed or unemployed living in ever-growing slums. 

Like Water For Chocolate

Although I have owned a physical copy of Esquivel's popular novel for several years, I only recently finished reading the short book. A tale of forbidden love during the Mexican Revolution, the novel abounds in culinary delights that will make the reader hungry for more. Esquivel employs magical realism to enhance the story, but the simplicity of the narrative and the lack of more political commentary makes for an endearing read but lacking in the epic story arc characterizing the families in One Hundred Years of Solitude or House of the Spirits, two stellar novels that also use magical realism. Another weak aspect of the novel is the author's use of racial stereotypes of blacks as having natural rhythm, although the novel subtly criticizes racial and gender injustice.