喜怒哀楽（きどあいらく）

joy : anger : pathos : humor

In our quest to understand more of Japan's yoji-yukugo, we must yet again delve into the massive stockpile of knowledge that is Chinese literary history. The more I research, the more I too am discovering just how many of these idioms come from Chinese literature. This is by no means a bad thing, but for those of you who were hoping for a little more Japanese history in my exposition, I hope you'll understand our somewhat frequent academic journeys to mainland Asia. This week's yoji-jukugo first appeared in the Doctrine of the Mean (中庸, Japanese pronunciation: ちゅうよう), one of the four books of Confucian philosophy. The Doctrine of the Mean was published as a chapter of the Book of Rites (礼記, Japanese pronunciation: らいき), which exists as one of the core texts of the Confucian canon. Due to many revisions, additions, and an historically far-fetched but still culturally influential event known as the burning of the books, it is unclear as to the exact date these texts were published, but it is safe to say that they were well circulated by the end of the BC era.

Faithful to the kanji's individual meanings, this yoji-jukugo is defined as "human emotions; joy, anger, pathos, and humor." More specifically, however, the Doctrine of the Mean expresses that these emotions compose morality and dictate human nature. Maintaining a proper rhythm of these emotions is supposedly linked to the ultimate Dao, or "ethical way," of the world.* With this in mind, defining 喜怒哀楽 simply as the four emotions its kanji refer to feels a little lackluster, but I'll try to address that further down the page with my own attempt at a translation.

喜怒哀楽 is among those yoji-jukugo that are still used quite often in modern Japan, one common expression being 喜怒哀楽を顔に現す (きどあいらくをかおにあらわす), meaning "to let one's feelings show on their face." Similar to the old adage "to err is human," Japanese phrases that use this yoji-jukugo seem centered on the idea that showing these emotions, however embarrassing they may be given the situation, are indicative of and intrinsic to human nature. And that's definitely good news for us thespians out there.

*If you care to read the Doctrine of the Mean in English, you can find an expertly translated and diligently annotated version published by Robert Eno here for free.

My attempt at a four-word translation of 喜怒哀楽

To Feel Is Human

虎尾春氷（こびしゅんぴょう）

tiger : tail : spring : ice

This week's blog post takes us back to China to look into some of the oldest and most politically influential prose there is. The Book of Documents (a.k.a. the Classic of History, or the Shangshu) is one of the five classics of ancient Chinese literature, and provided fundamental political philosophies for the country for more than two millennia. Known as 書経 (しょきょう) in Japanese, the Book of Documents was also influential in Japanese history; at least 35 of Japan's era names, including the two most recent (Heisei and Showa), are known to have been derived from this text, suggesting that Chinese political philosophy has been periodically employed in Japan as well.

The origin of 虎尾春氷 can be found in chapter 53 of the fourth section, which dictates a speech by King Cheng of Zhou to Kun-ya (君牙, Japanese pronunciation: くんが). The full speech, provided in English here thanks to the Chinese Text Project, begins with the young king's appointment of Kun-ya as lord adviser, owing to the loyalty his family had shown in prior generations. Worried that his ascension to the throne at such a young age may lead to his quick downfall, the king urges Kun-ya to assist him however possible, and expresses his anxiety using the metaphors of "treading on a tiger's tail" and "walking on spring ice."

Needless to say, both of those metaphorical situations are highly dangerous. So although none of the Japanese-to-English dictionaries I've checked have a translation for this yoji-jukugo, with a little bit of historical background we're able to understand it to mean "an extremely precarious situation." As with some of the yoji-jukugo I've written about in the past, 虎尾春氷 is composed of two quasi-synonymous two-kanji expressions, thereby compounding its intended meaning.

Funnily enough, in English we already have a very similar four-word expression for this: "walking on thin ice." Yet much like its distant relatives "playing with fire" and "tempting the gods," I would argue that the English phrase "walking on thin ice" carries with it the implication that the person is well aware of the danger of the situation, and proceeds anyway. Meanwhile, the history behind 虎尾春氷 suggests that it is used for people cast unwillingly into danger; "being thrown in the deep end" or "walking a tightrope" might actually be closer English equivalents. In either case, I think everyone can still agree that it's really not a good idea to go stepping on tiger tails.

My attempt at a four-word translation of 虎尾春氷

Far From Safe Ground

岡目八目（おかめはちもく）

hill : eyes : eight : eyes

This week's yoji-jukugo will take us down the delightful little rabbit hole of literary culture in the Edo period. For those who need a crash course in Japanese history, the Edo period lasted from 1603 to 1868, and is considered to have been a landmark era for the country's social and cultural development. After feudal lord Tokugawa Ieyasu's decisive military victories led him to take the seat of shogun, Japan closed all but a handful of its naval ports and the spent the better half of the next three centuries forming a rich and unique cultural identity, with the country's newfound passion for literature playing an extremely influential role.

I could talk for hours about the Edo period in general, but for this yoji-jukugo I'm going to focus in on a short-lived yet widely popular medium for social and political satire known as kibyoshi (黄表紙 : きびょうし). Recognizable from their yellow-backed covers (the first kanji of 黄表紙 means "yellow"), kibyoshi began appearing in the late 1700s and quickly gained popularity for their sophisticated and contemporary political satire, as well as their comedic and somewhat debaucherous stories of Yoshiwara and other pleasure quarters. They were also often used to post reviews of theatrical performances and other literary works, and even carried woodblock print artwork by various artists. Unfortunately, censorship reforms and other factors led to the quick death of kibyoshi; the medium only lasted about three decades.

Again, I could go on for hours, but let's get back to 岡目八目. Credited with the creation of this yoji-jukugo is the late poet and fiction writer, Ota Nanpo. Popular in the 1770s and 1780s for his comedic poetry (狂歌：きょうか), Nanpo was quick to take up kibyoshi as a literary medium. One of his 1782 publications was entitled 岡目八目. By a stroke of luck, I found a complete and wonderfully detailed scan of this kibyoshi in the National Diet Library Digital Collections database. Take a look if you're interested.

On its own, the yoji-jukugo 岡目八目 is defined as "the bystander's vantage point." Meanwhile, the title of Nanpo's kibyoshi has been translated similarly albeit inconsistently as both The Observer and Onlookers See It Better. 岡目八目 is actually often used in Go, the Japanese board game, to refer to the strategic phenomenon that bystanders often see better moves as they have a calmer and more objective viewpoint than the players themselves. Captured territories in Go are referred to as "eyes," which perhaps helps to explain the use of the particular kanji in this idiom. The use of the "hill" kanji (岡) is to metaphorically emphasize the bystander's objective distance, and thankfully has nothing to do with the 2006 slasher film The Hills Have Eyes.

Nanpo's choice title of 岡目八目 was likely a stab at the political hierarchy, echoing the timeless opinion that policymakers are blind to the ramifications of their actions on the rest of the social classes. Given current political trends, it's no far stretch to say that this yoji-jukugo could definitely still be used today for the same purpose.

My attempt at a four-word translation of 岡目八目

Bystanders Have Better Judgment