Following the example of “Kichu Nikki” by my beloved Taneda Yamatohka, I have been writing haiku (sometimes free-form haiku) after my diary entries in this notebook.
However, if you search the Internet, you can find any number of definitions, and it seems that there are many researchers who specialize in this field.
After a little research, I found out that diary literature seems to exist all over the world, although I had thought that it had developed independently only in Japan.
In the case of Japan, however, there is no clear distinction between diary and novel, as in the case of “Tosa Nikki” by Kikanuki, “Dragonfly Diary,” “Murasaki Shikibu Nikki,” and so on. Add to that works such as “Makurazoshi” and “Tsurezuregusa,” which are ambiguous as to whether they are diaries or essays, and the distinction between the two becomes even more vague.
The decisive difference is that while the West is more contemplative, Japan is more concerned with aesthetics, such as “mono no ahare” and “yamatogokoro,” which are highly valued by the Japanese people.
If we talk about categorization, novels and diaries, or even essays, are different fields, but if we go too deeply into them, we will get into the difficult chaos of what literature is in the first place.
I don’t think there is any need to divide them into different categories. As Soseki Natsume once said, “A literary work deals with the continuity of consciousness,” and if it has a narrative that can be read and is interesting to read, whether it is in the style of a diary, an essay, or Matsuo Basho’s “Oku no Hosomichi,” it is a fine literary work.
However, for the sake of convenience, it may be enough to distinguish between diary-like, essay-like, and narrative works. There is no need to go out of our way to say that this is a diary that is not a novel, or that it is not good because it does not contain enough narrative, or to bring in the difference between innovative value or not. In other words, as long as it focuses on the connection of consciousness, I think it can be called a novel.
More than that, it may not be the old Fuji TV catchphrase, but “If it’s not interesting, it’s not literature. Besides, it may just be a time-waster. (Osamu Dazai once said, “Novels are for women to play with, and it is enough if they please them.)
However, as Mr. Mishiro of Gentosha mentioned in his book, all of the works that are considered masterpieces to this day were big bestsellers at the time. They sold explosively almost entirely by word of mouth, with little or no advertising.
There are very few works that were appreciated in secret, unknown to the public, and later came to be in the limelight and were called masterpieces.
In other words, whether it is the “Tosa Nikki” or the “Dragonfly Diary” that remains today, the readers of those days must have thought it was interesting and went to the trouble of copying it word for word to spread it to others.
In this day and age, how many works are there that we, including myself, would like to read and copy to let others know about them? Furthermore, the cruel filter of time comes into play. The works that remain are what we call masterpieces.
If you look into the literary world of the Meiji period, you will find that there were many famous writers at that time. However, not only the names of the authors, but most of their works have not survived. Even if they were famous, such as Kan Kikuchi or Saneatsu Mushanokoji, at best, only one or two works are known.
Therefore, a work that remains for 50 or 100 years may have the value of a natural monument. Therefore, no matter how much one tries to create a great work that will go down in history, including myself, one has to be prepared for the fact that only a few of them will sell, and even fewer will remain for a long time. Even Haruki Murakami may have one or two works that will remain after 100 years.
But I don’t think we should despair that literature is meaningless, thinking that it will just fade away anyway. I would like you to challenge yourself with the determination to write a work that will remain with you for a hundred years, aiming for the pinnacle of literature, such as “The Brothers Karamazov” or “War and Peace.
Of course, there are a thousand different ways to climb to the top of literature, and it may not even be necessary to climb in the first place. You may get lost along the way or spend a thousand days climbing, but it may be a different summit. However, as someone who has been writing hebdomadic novels for a long time, I can assure you that it is definitely worth the climb.
I am not going to say, like some cheap self-help book, that you will make money, or that there will be some practical effect, or that the effort itself is worth it, but as Dazai once said, “Literature is enough for a lifetime of work for boys (and now girls as well),” if you are thinking of doing literature, I urge you to give it a try. you are thinking of doing, you should definitely give it a try. So what is the reward? As for whether there really is such a thing, and what use it is in reality, I hope to answer that question at a later date.
Back to my point, I think a diary is a way to write about the daily stream of consciousness, the groans and anguish of living, and the joys and discoveries of life. And I think it is also a work of art.
A recent representative example of this is Taneda Yamatoka’s diaries, such as “Kichu Nikki” (The Diary of Kichu). And I personally think that along with “Okunohosomichi,” it is one successful example of a diary that has been sublimated into a work of literature. And I personally hope that one day diary literature will be reevaluated and win the Akutagawa Prize or something.
I would like to try the now-dead exchange diary (or LINE as it is called nowadays) at least once.
See you soon!
