The Tale of Genji: chapters 1-4

Knulp Tanner and I are having a read-along of The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu, Japan’s greatest classic novel, from the 11th century. Join the read-along if you like. 
I’m reading Royall Tyler’s translation. 

1/ As I read The Tale of Genji after reading Truyện Kiều and comparing the translations, I can’t help wondering what’s lost in translation.  
Before purchasing the book, I did some research—there are 4 main English translations: Waley’s, Seidensticker’s, Tyler’s, and Washburn’s, in this order. Waley’s was significant in introducing English readers to The Tale of Genji properly for the first time (apparently the earlier one was butchered), but it’s said to be a free translation and sometimes he omitted passages from the text (sounds like Constance Garnett). 
Tyler’s is said to be the closest to the Japanese text, therefore difficult, but it has extensive notes. Seidensticker’s is meant to be somewhere between Waley’s and Tyler’s—loyal but also accessible and readable. 
The latest translation, Washburn’s, is from 2015, so I haven’t found a lot of comments on it. However, the little I’ve read gives me the impression that Washburn often spells things out where Murasaki is being subtle, which I don’t want. 
I should say that translation is difficult, especially as I’m aware of the huge gap between English and East Asian languages and cultures, so translators do what they can, and often readers have different priorities when choosing a translation. 
I myself don’t speak Japanese and don’t have other versions at hand for comparison, but so far I’ve been enjoying Tyler’s. I like that he tries to retain Murasaki’s subtlety, then adds a note to clarify the meaning, which I usually understand without the note (so it’s good that he doesn’t spell it all out).

2/ You must wonder, is it easier for me, being East Asian, to understand The Tale of Genji than a Westerner? 
A little, but not much. 
For example, Vietnamese people also use the lunar calendar, so I may understand the significance of certain dates (such as the 15th of August, which is mid-autumn) and the method of calculating age. We also have the 49-day rituals after someone’s death, which I assume aren’t very different, and the belief that the spirit wanders on earth for those 49 days. 
Another advantage is the occasional feeling of familiarity (or a-ha!) when I catch a Chinese classical allusion. For instance, the image of birds sharing a wing or branches twining together, a Chinese classical allusion, is common in Vietnamese culture (như chim liền cánh, như cây liền cành). There are references in Truyện Kiều and Chinh phụ ngâm. 
At the same time, this is also when the gap between English and East Asian languages and cultures becomes obvious. 
For example, there are frequent references in The Tale of Genji to “Chang hen ge” (長恨歌) by Tang poet Bai Juyi. The title is translated here as “The Song of Unending Sorrow”, and sometimes translated elsewhere as “Song of Everlasting Regret”. In Vietnamese, the title becomes “Trường hận ca” (Sino-Vietnamese—Chinese characters, pronounced the Vietnamese way, and written in the current Vietnamese writing system with Latin alphabet).
The word “hận” (恨) is stronger and has a slightly different tone than “sorrow” and “regret”—in it there is the meaning of “hate” and “anger”. But then the meaning would be lost if the title were to become “The Song of Everlasting Hate”, so there we go. 

3/ As a novel from 11th century Japan, the content of The Tale of Genji is old—the world depicted is alien and strange. The hierarchies, social rules and moral codes, rituals, beliefs, habits, etc. are mostly strange. 
However, the form, the technique is surprisingly modern. 
Let me explain.  
Frankenstein is a novel where I feel the technique is constrained by its time, and outdated. The epistolary novel is not necessarily outdated (even if it’s not as popular and common as it used to be), and neither is the framed story. But Frankenstein has a narrative (the Creature’s) within a narrative (Frankenstein’s) within another narrative (Captain Walton’s correspondence), which is a clumsy way of presenting different perspectives at a time when writers couldn’t (or didn’t) easily switch between narrators. 
The same is with The Tenant of Wildfell Hall. Wuthering Heights also has a framed narrative, but The Tenant of Wildfell Hall has a clumsier structure because Helen’s diary is contained in Gilbert’s letter.
These examples may be confusing because I don’t mean that in The Tale of Genji, Murasaki is doing something Mary Shelley and Anne Bronte try to achieve in their works. What I mean is that the form of The Tale of Genji doesn’t feel outdated and constrained in the sense that the forms of the other 2 novels do. 
To clarify, Murasaki depicts a very alien world, but does it in a way that The Tale of Genji doesn’t feel much different from a 19th century novel—psychological novel—in terms of form. 
Murasaki tells the story and presents the characters as they are, with their actions and thoughts, without commenting. The narrator once in a while appears (about twice so far), in a non-intrusive way—she doesn’t comment, doesn’t spoon-feed the readers, doesn’t moralise. Throughout the text, she is invisible. 
In chapter 2, for example, when several male characters discuss the ideal woman and tell their love stories, Murasaki lets them speak for themselves and shows their differences—we can see their hypocrisy, and the double standards for men and women. 

4/ My main struggle with The Tale of Genji is the mass of characters. 
Compared to Murasaki’s novel, Anna Karenina and War and Peace are easy. War and Peace may have about 400-500 characters, but apart from historical figures, the major characters are in 5 families—the key to remember the characters is therefore to remember which family (or families) they’re connected to.  
The Tale of Genji is confusing because each of the men has several wives and several lovers. How the hell do you draw family trees? I know Genji’s women, but each time a woman is mentioned, I have to pause, who’s this?, for a second.  
These brief outlines of Genji’s women are my own notes for the future. 
- Aoi: Genji’s first wife. He is arranged marriage with her after his coming-of-age ritual—he’s 12, she’s 16. Aoi is daughter of the Minister of the Left and the Princess, the Emperor’s sister, so Aoi and Genji are first cousins. Readers of Mansfield Park who are grossed out by Fanny marrying her cousin Edmund should read The Tale of Genji. 
Genji is close friends with Aoi’s brother, To no Chujo, who is the Chamberlain Lieutenant in chapter 1 and becomes the Secretary Captain from chapter 2. 
- Fujitsubo: the Emperor’s concubine, who is said to look like his dead concubine the Haven (Kiritsubo no Koi), Genji’s mother. Genji fantasises about her—his stepmom.  
- Utsusemi: married to the Iyo Deputy (Iyo no Suke) and stepmom of the Governor of Kii (Ki no Kami). She is distant and plays hard to get, but that doesn’t stop Genji harassing her, using her brother Kogimi (poor kid). Associated with the cicada, because in her flight she leaves behind her gown, like a cicada shell.
- The lady from the West Wing (Nobika no Ogi): sister of the Governor of Kii. The first time Genji sees her, she’s playing Go with Utsusemi. He finds her whilst looking for Utsusemi (chapter 3), but takes her anyway, because a woman is a woman, I guess? Associated with reed because Genji attaches it to his letter. Later she marries the Chamberlain Lieutenant. 
- Yugao: a woman who, in chapter 4, is hiding near the house of Koremitsu, Genji’s confidant. She is 19 years old, has a nurse called Chujo, and has a child with To no Chujo named Tamakazura. Genji doesn’t leave anyone alone, even his close friend’s ex. I shall not mention what happens to her in chapter 4. 
- The Rokujo Haven (Rokujo no Miyasudokoro): widow of a former Heir Apparent. She worries about the age gap, so I assume she’s older than Genji. Murasaki slips her into the narrative in chapter 4, without much introduction, as though readers already know her. It’s a bit confusing.
- There is also a ghost (a spirit?) who fancies Genji. 
War and Peace is easier.