The Tale of Genji: chapters 12-14, women

1/ Anyone who reads The Tale of Genji must sometimes wonder: but what does Murasaki Shikibu think? How does she really feel about Genji and his actions? Above all, what does she think about the patriarchal system she’s depicting? 
The novel is about the women in Genji’s life as much as it’s about him. Murasaki Shikibu seems to have sympathy for them all—from Fujitsubo, who lives in anguish because of fear and guilt and has to renounce life for her own safety, to Yugao, who goes into hiding because of threats from To no Chujo’s wife; from the Rokujo Haven, who feels neglected by Genji, humiliated by his wife, and tormented by her own jealousy, to the Reikeiden Consort, who isn’t among the Emperor’s favourites when he’s alive and forgotten after his death; from Suetsumuhana, who is paralysed with shyness because she has neither looks nor wit, to the Akashi Novice’s daughter, who is painfully conscious of her low rank and doesn’t want to be involved with Genji for fear of getting hurt; from the old staff woman, who still has sexual desire and cries about the treachery of time, to Murasaki, who is abducted as a small child then abandoned by her own father, and has nobody but Genji, etc. 
The Tale of Genji is so rich, so full of humanity, with a wide range of characters, especially female characters, and the author seems to love them all. The culture and social rules are alien, but the feelings are all recognisable—Murasaki Shikibu writes about love, loss, betrayal, jealousy, loneliness, grief, fear, guilt, shame, and so on. 
I do not know, at least for now, her feelings about the patriarchal system of Heian Japan, but her novel does depict a world in which women have confined roles, unable to do much and hidden away behind curtains and screens, whilst each men can have several wives and lovers, and can give other women night visits. Murasaki Shikibu writes about women yielding, or running away, or getting raped (in suggestive, subtle ways); she also writes about women suffering in loneliness and waiting for a man who never comes. 

2/ In chapter 10, Genji’s enemy (former Kokiden Consort, now Empress Mother) says she would cause his downfall. 
In chapter 11, there’s a little break, as Genji visits the Reikeiden Consort and her sister (Hanachirusato). 
But when we get to chapter 12, the downfall has happened. Murasaki Shikibu earlier has written at length about rituals, festivals, and death, but she chooses not to write about the events that led up to Genji’s banishment. 
I can’t help asking, what does she think? Indeed Genji is later restored to court, but does it necessarily mean that she sides with love, so to speak, and agrees with Genji that he is blameless and unjustly treated? Or does she think that the punishment is excessive and motivated by grudge, but Genji isn’t entirely blameless either and women have always been his main weakness? 

3/ See this quote from Virginia Woolf: 

“Here was a woman about the year 1800 writing without hate, without bitterness, without fear, without protest, without preaching. That was how Shakespeare wrote, I thought, looking at Antony and Cleopatra; and when people compare Shakespeare and Jane Austen, they may mean that the minds of both had consumed all impediments; and for that reason we do not know Jane Austen and we do not know Shakespeare, and for that reason Jane Austen pervades every word that she wrote, and so does Shakespeare.” 

Let me change a bit: 

Here was a woman about the year 1000 writing without hate, without bitterness, without fear, without protest, without preaching. That was how Shakespeare wrote, I thought, looking at Antony and Cleopatra; and when people compare Shakespeare and Murasaki Shikibu, they may mean that the minds of both had consumed all impediments; and for that reason we do not know Murasaki and we do not know Shakespeare, and for that reason Murasaki pervades every word that she wrote, and so does Shakespeare. 

That is perhaps the only thing Murasaki Shikibu and Jane Austen have in common—they both write from a woman’s perspective, and thus write about conditions for women, without letting anger, resentment, or any preaching get in the way and distort their art. They become elusive. 
(Murasaki Shikibu has been called the medieval or Japanese Jane Austen—I myself have never understood these comparisons). 

4/ Speaking of Shakespeare, chapter 13 has such a Shakespearean moment. Did you expect it? I didn’t. It’s not exactly the same, but it made me think of King Lear. 
Powerful, intense, evocative images. 
The Tale of Genji, like Moby Dick or Tolstoy, makes most novels appear small and insignificant.

5/ We are told that Genji loves Murasaki more than anyone else—the characters too believe so. He moulds her into his ideal woman, and she turns out to be as he has wanted. 
Murasaki Shikibu doesn’t openly condemn the relationship, but she drops a few hints here and there. At the beginning, other characters are shocked by Genji’s interest in the girl, and he can get away with the abduction only because he’s the Emperor’s son. It is very subtle, but the scenes of Murasaki playing with dolls and not understanding his hints set a clear contrast between Murasaki as seen by Genji (a potential wife and surrogate for Fujitsubo) and Murasaki as she is (an innocent child who likes playing with dolls). 
Murasaki Shikibu also lets us see the girl’s unusual and vulnerable situation—Genji becomes her mother and father, she has nobody but him, and when he is banished, her biological father abandons her for fear of consequences. 
There are 2 scenes showing that their relationship (and marriage) isn’t as happy as it seems. The first time is in chapter 9, when Genji takes her virginity, unexpectedly. 
The second time is in chapter 14, when he tells her about his affair with the Akashi Novice’s daughter when he’s in exile, and his plan to bring the Akashi woman and their daughter to court. He talks like it’s only a fling and he has no choice. 
Both times, Murasaki is upset, angry, and hurt. Both times, she feels duped—betrayed. Both times, Genji fails to understand her feelings. 
In a subtle, natural way, Murasaki Shikibu conveys that a man’s plan to shape a girl from a young age into his ideal woman cannot work—he cannot see her for who she is, and does not understand her. 

6/ The Tale of Genji gives us a picture of the lives of women at the Heian court. 
Women have to share a husband (think of the Chinese film Raise the Red Lantern or the Vietnamese poem Cung oán ngâm khúc—Lament of a Royal Concubine), but they are not all equal. The Emperor’s Wife could be the Empress, or a Consort (Fujitsubo comes after the Kokiden Consort but is elevated to the rank of Empress), or lower (the second Emperor in the novel, Genji’s half-brother, doesn’t appoint Oborozukiyo as a Consort, which is a shame).  
A woman, in a way, has to compete to be recognised—to be one of the man’s women (Genji and the Rokujo Haven, for instance, aren’t official), and then has to compete to be a favourite, because the ones that aren’t favourites may be forgotten (such as the Reikeiden Consort). But even then, sometimes it’s not enough to be a favourite, because there are other factors—at the beginning of the novel, the Emperor’s favourite is the Kiritsubo Consort, Genji’s mother, but there is nothing he can do for her and Genji because she lacks power, whereas the Kokiden Consort is part of a powerful clan. 
In chapter 14, when the Emperor (Genji’s half-brother) abdicates and there is a second change in reign—replaced by Reizei, Fujitsubo’s son, at about the age of 11. We can see more clearly that different people, or different factions at court, try to introduce girls to the new Emperor.
In this context, the Akashi woman is an outsider. As her child’s wet nurse thinks, she is lucky.