Man’yōshū and the Imperial Imagination in Early Japan by Torquil Duthie (review)

I begin this review with a disclaimer: Man’yōshū and the Imperial Imaginationis a work of literary analysis, whereas my area of expertise is history. Although I am knowledgeable about seventh- and eighth-century Japan, my evaluation of Duthie’s book reflects my own academic background and is likely to differ considerably from what a literary scholar might produce. I take heart from the author himself, who argues in the conclusion to this excellent study that the disciplines of literature and history must take account of one another in order to arrive at a proper understanding of early Japan. (I hope that he will not regret those remarks after reading this review.)

Man’yōshū and the Imperial Imaginationis a long, closely argued book that consists of an introduction, ten chapters grouped into two parts, and a conclusion. Part 1, “The Literary Representation of Empire,” provides an overview of imperial rhetoric in early Japan. In it, Duthie describes how Yamato’s self-image as an imperial realm emerged in the context of diplomatic relations with other East Asian states (chapter 1); how scholars since the late nineteenth century have projected their own ideals onto early Japan, rendering it a “site of comparison—whether of similarity or alterity—for the modern state” (chapter 2; quote from p. 73); and how the Yamato court actually sought to portray itself as imperial through the use of texts, rituals, and spectacles (chapter 3). We also learn that the Nihon shoki’saccount of the 672 Jinshin Rebellion contains three separate narratives, each representing a different political constituency (chapter 4), and that the poems in the first two volumes of the Man’yōshūdisplay “similar competing narratives” within their broad arrangement as a “history of imperial succession” (chapter 5; quotes from p. 6).

Volumes 1 and 2 of the Man’yōshūare also the focus of part 2, “Imperial Poetry and the Politics of the First Person.” Here, Duthie explains how “ uta. . . were conceived as imperial vernacular poetry” and discusses the “nature and function of first-person expression in the Man’yōshū”(chapter 6; quotes from p. 6). He goes on to examine Hitomaro’s Yoshino Praise Poems, which celebrate the Yoshino palace as “the foundation of Tenmu and Jitō’s new imperial realm” (chapter 7; quote from p. 6); more poems by Hitomaro that portray Tenmu as a heavenly god (chapter 8); the Man’yōshū’s ambivalent treatment of the Ōmi court and the losing side of the Jinshin Rebellion (chapter 9); and finally, the depiction of Prince Karu (later, Emperor Monmu) as Tenmu’s heir in still further poems by the ubiquitous Hitomaro (chapter 10).

By the standards of Japanese Man’yōshūscholarship, Duthie’s book is quite broad, reflecting his desire to go beyond “the context provided by . . . other scholars working on the Man’yōshū”to “address much larger questions” (p. xi). His basic methodology is to “combine the philological foundations of Japanese-style scholarship with the literary criticism and historicist orientation of English-language Japanese studies” (p. 408). The result is a book that, while frequently technical, nonetheless has much to offer non-Man’yōshūspecialists. In the following paragraphs, I discuss what this historian sees as its four greatest strengths.

First, Duthie is to be praised for his nuanced portrayal (in chapter 1) of Yamato’s historical interactions with the various “Sinic” and Korean states. I was pleasantly surprised at his deep familiarity with both the original sources and previous scholarship on the subject. Most historians, including myself, would try to synthesize the available information into a coherent story, but Duthie goes out of his way to complicate matters, eschewing easy generalizations at every turn. Readers will learn, among other things, that in ancient East Asia there was no single, unified “tributary system,” but rather a shifting nexus of complicated, often mutually...