Queering Intimacy and Loss in Queering Intimacy and Loss in The Tale of Genji The Tale of Genji a proximate remove Reginald Jackson Luminos is the Open Access monograph publishing program from UC Press. Luminos provides a framework for preserving and reinvigorating monograph publishing for the future and increases the reach and visibility of important scholarly work. Titles published in the UC Press Luminos model are published with the same high standards for selection, peer review, production, and marketing as those in our traditional program. www.luminosoa.org The publisher and the University of California Press Foundation gratefully acknowledge the generous support of the Joan Palevsky Imprint in Classical Literature. NEW INTERVENTIONS IN JAPANESE STUDIES General Editor Sabine Frühstück, University of California, Santa Barbara Editorial Board Daniel Botsman, Yale University Michael K. Bourdaghs, University of Chicago David L. Howell, Harvard University Susan Blakeley Klein, University of California, Irvine Fabio Rambelli, University of California, Santa Barbara Jennifer Robertson, University of Michigan—Ann Arbor Julia Adeney Thomas, University of Notre Dame Gennifer Weisenfeld, Duke University 1. Language, Nation, Race: Linguistic Reform in Meiji Japan (1868–1912), by Atsuko Ueda 2. A Proximate Remove: Queering Intimacy and Loss in the Tale of Genji, by Reginald Jackson A Proximate Remove A Proximate Remove Queering Intimacy and Loss in The Tale of Genji Reginald Jackson UNIVERSIT Y OF CALIFORNIA PRESS University of California Press Oakland, California © 2021 by Reginald Jackson This work is licensed under a Creative Commons [CC-BY-NC-ND] license. To view a copy of the license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses. Suggested citation: Jackson, R. A Proximate Remove: Queering Intimacy and Loss in The Tale of Genji. Oakland: University of California Press, 2021. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1525/luminos.106 Names: Jackson, R., author. Title: A proximate remove : queering intimacy and loss in The tale of Genji / Reginald Jackson. Description: Oakland, California : University of California Press, [2021] | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020053167 (print) | LCCN 2020053168 (ebook) | ISBN 9780520382541 (paperback) | ISBN 9780520382558 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Murasaki Shikibu, 978?– Genji monogatari—Criticism and interpretation. Classification: LCC PL788.4.G43 J33 2021 (print) | LCC PL788.4.G43 (ebook) | DDC 895.63/14—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020053167 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020053168 28 27 26 25 24 23 22 21 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 To Hideki Okada and his partner, Azusa Nishimoto. Theirs is a lasting, barely fathomed love. C ontents Acknowledgments ix Preface. Benefits of the Doubt: Questioning Discipline and the Risks of Queer Reading xiii Introduction 1 1. Translation Fantasies and False Flags: Desiring and Misreading Queerness in Premodern Japan 31 2. Chivalry in Shambles: Fabricating Manhood amid Architectural Disrepair 64 3. Going through the Motions: Half-Hearted Courtship and the Topology of Queer Shame 87 4. Queer Affections in Exile: Textual Mediation and Exposure at Suma Shore 120 5. From Harsh Stare to Reverberant Caress: Queer Timbres of Mourning in “The Flute” 149 Conclusion. Learning from Loss 173 Afterword. Teaching Removal 183 Notes 185 Bibliography 203 Index 215 ix Acknowled gments Like intimacy and loss, gratitude can feel like a queer thing: visceral, yet difficult to ever grasp or calculate fully. In writing this book, I benefited from many people’s contributions. I’ll always be eternally grateful to Jonathan Beçanson, my first Japa- nese teacher, whose remarkable sensitivity, kindness, and exacting musicianship continue to inspire me. Patrick Caddeau got me reading Tanizaki in college, and Tony Chambers stoked that curiosity, so blame them for the weirdest bits of the book. Hideki Okada fostered the habit of imagining otherwise, absent knee-jerk judgments or pretense. Tom Hare continues to engage my ideas with warmth and an open mind. Jason Weidemann’s proposal made me retool the book I thought I was writing. Lauren Berlant’s advice helped me realize the book’s limitations and potentials. Michael Bourdaghs retains his impeccable taste in music, and he remains the wisest, most constructive and generous colleague I’ve known. I can’t thank him enough. Sabine Frühstück has been a welcoming steward in leading the New Interventions in Japanese Studies imprint. At University of California Press, I’ve had the pleasure to work with Reed Malcolm, Archna Patel, Enrique Ochoa-Kaup, Genevieve Thurston, and Cindy Fulton, who have supervised a smooth publishing process. Two anonymous readers for the press and Japanese Language and Litera- ture offered vital commentary. Judi Gibbs indexed the book. Any remaining errors are mine. I am also grateful to Anne Walthall, whose generosity subsidized the book’s open-access version, and to the Tokugawa Museum, for lending images. I thank participants of 2015’s Rethinking Premodern Japan: Territory, Embodi- ment, Exposure workshop at the University of Chicago—Charlotte Eubanks and Paul Atkins, especially—for weighing in. Karen Thornber kindly invited me to x Acknowledgments share work at Harvard’s Reischauer Institute, where she and other smart folks like David Howell, Terry Kawashima, Melissa McCormick, and Tomiko Yoda offered valuable commentary at a formative stage. Abé Markus Nornes’s close reading is always appreciated, and Christi Merrill’s keen comments energized the introduction. Annalisa Zox-Weaver did an excellent job editing an earlier version of this manuscript, and I owe her a belated expression of gratitude. Helen Find- ley provided outstanding research support. Enormous thanks go to Edith Sarra and Charo D’Etcheverry, whose extraordinarily learned and conscientious com- ments made for a better book. Ellen Tilton-Cantrell’s thoughtful editorial work was transformative. Rachel Willis’s attentive annotations helped me finish strong. Grace Ting’s sparkling critiques refined and emboldened the prose. She’s a fabulous coconspirator. Similar sentiments hold for Frieda Ekotto, Raya Naamneh, Hakem Al-Rustom, and Rana Barakat. Arvind-Pal Mandair is a brilliant thinker whose camaraderie has meant tons. Tiffany Ng is a stellar friend whose hustle and humanity continually floor me. Not for nothing, Denise Galarza-Sepúlveda’s literary sensibility and cariño set a high bar two decades running. The incredible Victor Mendoza and Pardip Bolina let Ana and Simone sing “Happy Birthday” for my first book, Textures of Mourning ; the postpandemic cake train will not skip their stop. Marvelous interlocutor Ava Purkiss shall conduct said train. Carla “Sunshine” Nappi continues to rock the house, along with Emily Greene, Dan Shulman, and Emilie Chesnutt Boone. The Berger-Richman family needs more aliens in their Korean cinema. Abrazos always to the Aimee and Juan Rodriguez household. Ron Brunette, Allen Finkel, and Alana; Patricio Herbst, Vilma Mesa, Bruno, and Ana Sofia; and Sarah Arehart, Ivy, and Steve Cavaness are neighbors akin to relatives (the good kind). And Hideki Okada’s partner, Azusa Nishimoto, is family forever. I gratefully acknowledge financial support from the Fulbright Foundation, Japan Foundation, and Michigan’s Center for Japanese Studies. My gratitude also goes to Kevin Carr, Rosie Ceballo, Haely Chang, Tamara Chin, Steven Chung, Abi Cochran, Deirdre de la Cruz, Christopher Dryer, Yukiko Endō, Norma Field, Jim Fujii, Yuri Fukazawa, Diana Fuss, Anita Gonzalez, Miyabi Goto, Bradly Hammond, Yucong Hao, Kaoru Hayashi, Christopher Hill, Sue Juster, Swarnim Khare, Steven Kile, Ungsan Kim, Astrid Lac, Kim Larrow, Ashton Lazarus, Minna Lee, Hoyt Long, Mimi Long, Stephanie Lovelace, Christine Marran, Alex Murphy, Agnes Lugo-Ortiz, Do-Hee Morsman, Elizabeth Oyler, Sonya Ozbey, Esperanza Ramirez-Christensen, David Rolston, Patrick Schwemmer, Jayanthi Selinger, Rob Sellers, Matthew Stavros, Jocelyn Stitt, Kiyoteru Tsutsui, Patrice Whitney, Nicole Wright, and Keiko Yokota-Carter. A massive shout out to the University of Michigan’s Accelerated Mas- ter’s Program in Transcultural Studies’ “Quaranteam”: Bailey Compton, Allie Hodge, Kaley Makino, Alex Prosi, Jeremy Ray, and Rachel Willis. Their sincer- ity and intellectual agility in engaging with this material puts many an expert to Acknowledgments xi shame. Our ongoing educational exchange buoys my hopes for styles of study the university can’t ruin. Brian Jackson, Sallie, Tiffany, and Thandi Townsend keep me rooted. Along with the Roland-Forney reunion crew, Eulinda and Moriya Smith’s faith lifts my spirits. My heartfelt thanks and love go to the phenomenal Allison Alexy—the most competent person I know—for her support and killer editorial chops. Alice Gorham’s caring, righteous anger provides clarity. Eunice Jackson’s singular warrior spirit continues to pay dividends that nary a soul can steal. Arthur L. Jackson Jr.’s abundant love, humor, and insight remain indelible. xiii Preface Benefits of the Doubt: Questioning Discipline and the Risks of Queer Reading What does giving the benefit of the doubt cost? And how should we assign value to questions that raise doubts about disciplinary values we’ve learned to take for granted? Before I delve into queer readings of The Tale of Genji or even frame this book’s goals, interventions, and debts to previous scholarship, it felt impor- tant to address some concerns, in hopes of smoothing entry into the book proper. This preface reflects on the value of queer approaches to specialists in premodern Japanese literature. In the subsequent introduction, I outline how each chapter’s arguments challenge or improve on existing models of understanding in premod- ern Japanese literary studies and queer studies. I explain, for instance, why I draw on certain strains of queer theory more than others, and I unpack the value of a phenomenological approach across the chapters. Here, however, I contextualize how certain disciplinary locations might condition one’s expectations toward A Proximate Remove First, an observation: this project has met with more resistance than any other I’ve undertaken. A Proximate Remove connects Heian literary studies and queer studies in a manner not done before. This is no easy task. And some of the diffi- culty stems from larger social, historical, and disciplinary structures that configure these fields and influence reactions within them. I’ve noticed that the topic of performing queer readings of Genji tends to make many scholars of premodern Japanese literature uneasy. This unease manifests in various ways. Sometimes it crops up in a crossing of arms at the project’s mention, xiv Preface while other times reservations are expressed about the validity of the project— without the commenter having read a page. Some scholars admit the premise sounds interesting, small talking toward inquiring if I myself identify as queer. Informal reservations are mentioned, like, “Try not to overdo it” (Is this an encour- agement or a warning?); and, “But Genji only has sex with the boy [Kogimi] once.” A host of soft or hard protestations have arisen about the historical validity of the inquiry, such as, “But that’s more Edo”; and, “But that’s more modern”; or, “But these aren’t real people” (as though I don’t realize this is a fictional narrative); and, “But these aren’t modern people” (as though I don’t realize these are characters in an eleventh-century fictional narrative). Written reactions go further, including, “He has no evidence any of these [readings] are what Murasaki Shikibu intended” (as though that was actually the author’s real name, or as though the very notion of authorial intention for an eleventh-century tale should be seriously entertained by literary scholars as a guarantor of meaning); and, “The author repeatedly injects sexual innuendo into scenes” (as though Genji needed a shred of help on that score). I mention these examples to do four things: (1) share and think through the nature of the unease they register, with the ideological and disciplinary resistance underpinning it; (2) outline some perceived risks attending my inquiry; (3) antici- pate some of the project’s potential benefits; and (4) perform solidarity with those who might have encountered similar responses or who seek to bring new energy to their fields. Rather than discount this pushback as peripheral, theorizing it upfront seems valuable as a critical gesture in itself. This entails not taking negativity for granted but rather, in a queer theoretical spirit, weighing it as a way to consider some of the thematic textual concerns examined in subsequent chapters—such as disorientation, temporal dilation, and disenchantment with normative struc- tures. This might seem like hand-wringing to some, particularly audiences more conversant with queer theory; if you’re in that category, please proceed to the introduction proper. However, for readers less versed in that style of inquiry, and perhaps more skeptical toward it, this section attempts to lay out the analytical terrain at a meta level. A Proximate Remove will in some ways be a challenging book. This is because of the book’s arguments and engagement with a varied conceptual archive unfa- miliar to many scholars in the field of premodern Japanese studies, on the one hand, and a historiography alien to queer studies scholars, on the other. My goal is not to incite a love-hate relationship but rather to expand the horizon of interpre- tive possibilities currently available in premodern Japanese literary studies. With- out belaboring the point, I should merely say up front that a lack of a sustained engagement with queer theory within the field is precisely what my manuscript seeks to address. Part of what makes the book challenging is that it questions fundamental and often unmarked beliefs about the nature of desire and disciplinary orientations Preface xv toward reading and writing themselves. Consequently, it seemed prudent in this preface to identify certain disciplinary habits and expectations and indicate poten- tial instances of friction. So from the outset we should ask, How does posing queer questions accentuate, reinforce, or erode disciplinary norms—within premodern Japanese literary studies primarily? And how should we understand the risks and benefits of that doubt? Although queer studies grew out of antidiscriminatory activism centered on sex- ual identity, and some critiques still hew close to that legacy, the field has expanded beyond those concerns since its early 1990s inception in the United States. Some recent approaches in queer studies recognize facets of everyday experience that speak to possibilities overshadowed by normalizing regimes, with compulsory heterosexuality being just one draconian example; others reconsider antinormativ- ity’s dominant role in queer theorization or pursue posthuman critiques inclined to minimize human sexuality’s privileged position through a broader focus on animacy. 1 On this point, I am careful to never capitalize queer theory so as to not reify it as some monolithic entity or flatten its conceptual diversity. Often, the analytical object of queer theory is not queerness, which is associ- ated vernacularly with nonnormative or LGBTQ+ identities, but rather complex processes that structure exclusion or reproduce repressive styles of sociality. Thus, one way to understand queer studies is as a practice of asking questions more openly—be it in love, law, or literature—without taking prohibitive assertions at face value. Insofar as queer theory ideally pursues better, less constrained circum- stances for living, it works to diagnose or critically intuit stimuli, gestures, turns of phrases, and irruptions large and small that disclose chinks in the armor of dominant logics or signal ways to imagine otherwise. By positing such an array of phenomena as deserving analysis, some schol- ars protest that queer theory becomes a “theory of everything.” This complaint can precede a dismissal indicative of deeper-seated issues. My hunch is that this qualm stems more from unspoken homophobia, which lets a closeted prejudice masquerade as dispassionate appraisal. I wouldn’t claim this sort of homophobia constitutes full-blown bigotry; rather, it persists as a constitutive element of het- eronormative society. Against such judgments, I would counter that queer theory is no more a theory of everything than theories examining class, gender, or race. On the one hand, Black feminists like Kimberlé Crenshaw have made clear that these powerfully structuring social categories must be considered in their inter- sectional relation to one another. 2 On the other hand, intersectionality in a Black feminist context or queer-of-color critique has yet to secure cachet within Japa- nese studies. Although younger than Marxist or psychoanalytic criticism, queer theory both overlaps and exceeds some of those more established lenses’ concern about economies, inequalities, and subjectivities. This book practices a form of queer reading composed of several interpre- tive approaches. Importantly, as used here, the term queer does not index erotic