Female Samurai: Warriors and Otherwise

Tomoe-GozenFemale samurais are stock figures in modern anime, manga, western comic books, and fantasy novels:  hard-fighting, often hard-drinking, badasses with swords and bows.  The key word is fantasy.

In medieval Japan, samurai was a class distinction as well as a job description.  Women who were born into the samurai class were samurais whether or not they were warriors.  As members of the warrior class, they shared the martial code of loyalty and honor known as bushido.  Many of them were trained to use the naginata--a deadly scythe-like weapon--and carried razor-sharp daggers on their belts. They shared the disgrace when their male relations failed on the battlefield, following them into exile and even death.

Only a few samurai women became samurai warriors, but their stories are a constant thread through Japanese history.  The most famous was the twelfth century warrior Tomoe Gozen, who fought alongside Minamoto Kiso Yoshinaka in the Gempei War* and collected enemy heads as battle trophies just like one of the guys.  Her story became the subject of songs and a popular Noh play.  But Tomoe was not the only female samurai to fight in Japan’s seemingly interminable internal wars.  Tsuruhime, known as the sea princess of Omishimia, defended that island  against expansionist threats from the Japanese mainland in 1541.  Thirty-six years later, Ueno Tsuruhime led thirty-three other women in a suicidal charge against the army of a rival warlord--preferring to die in battle than commit the ritual suicide prescribed by her husband. (The tactic failed.  The besieging samurai proved reluctant to kill women who fought back.)  Near the end of the Amakusa rebellion in 1589-90,  the wife of the castle commander of the largely Christian stronghold at Hondo and several hundred other women cut off their long hair, tied up the hems of their kimonos, armed themselves with weapons and rosaries, and sortied from the broken castle gate in a final desperate attack.

Even in nineteenth century, when the world of the samurai was coming to an end, some women from samurai families  joined their fathers, husbands and brothers on the battlefield against the forces of the Meiji emperor.   In Daughters of the Samurai,  Janice Nimura tells the story of one young woman who tried to take a more active role in the Satsuma Rebellion of 1877.  With her family stronghold under siege, “the teenager scavenged pieces of discarded armor, chopped off her hair, pulled down the corners of her mouth in a classic samurai grimace, and announced that she was off to join the fighting.”  In her case, the samurai value of obedience won out over the samurai value of courage--when her mother forbade her to leave the castle she stayed put.  But other women, old enough or stubborn enough not to be controlled by parental commands, chose to fight rather than fulfill more traditional roles related to the defense of a stronghold or commit ritual suicide.   In one extraordinary case, Kawahara Asako decapitated her mother-in-law and daughter to save them from dishonor at the hands of the enemy before she took up her naginata and joined the fight against the imperial army.

With the exception of Tomoe Gozen, who appears to have fought because she was good at it, these stories share common themes of defense and desperation.  A far cry from their modern pop culture descendants.

*In which two samurai clans--the Taira and the Minamoto--duked it out for control of Japan.  The Gempei War ended with the Minamoto’s victorious establishment of the first shogunate--a form of government by military dictatorship in the name of a puppet emperor that would last in various forms from 1192 to 1867.  In case you were curious.

Here There Be –Sea Monsters?

My Own True Love and I are in countdown mode for a trip to Iceland.  You can expect future posts to be full of Vikings and other things Nordic.  Here’s a little something to get us all in the mood:

Olaus Magnus. Carta Marina

In 1539, Swedish mapmaker Olaus Magnus produced what was then the most detailed map of Northern Europe. Known as the Carta Marina, it was two-meters of up-to-date information regarding both land and sea.    Magnus's illustrations were realistic when it came to land, but the further he got from the shore the more fantastic his illustrations became. In Sea Monsters: A Voyage Around the World's Most Beguiling Map, Joseph Nigg (author of How To Raise and Keep a Dragon), takes the reader on a sea monster-sighting expedition through the map  using Magnus's own commentary as a field guide.

Nigg charts a course through the waters of Magnus's cartographic masterpiece, sailing north from the southwest coast of Norway past the ray-like rockas, giant lobsters, beached whales, and sea serpents, to the greatest of all sea monsters, the Kraken. Each stop on the voyage is a single beast which Nigg first describes in Magnus's own words.  He then discusses its place in traditional monster lore and its legacy in later maps and natural histories. It's easy for a map-loving reader to follow along.  The book jacket unfolds into a copy of Magnus's map.

If you're interested in maps, monsters or beautiful books, Sea Monsters will keep you enthralled.

Part of this post appeared many moons ago in Shelf Awareness for Readers

Shin-kickers From History: Joan of Arc

Joan of arc Several months ago, I asked a group of family and friends to tell me what they knew about Joan of Arc, aka St. Joan, aka the Maid of Orleans--no stopping to look up the details. I needed to know how familiar the average smart, well-read, non-specialist is with her story.* The accuracy and detail of the answers varied, though everyone knew she was French and no one said “Joan who?” ** As I read the answers, one thing stood out: the people who remembered the most were all women who had been fascinated by her story at that age, somewhere between 9 and death, when smart girls look for historical role models to tell them that it’s okay to be tough/mouthy/opinionated/different.***

I was one of those girls. I’m still fascinated by Joan, and other warrior women. And I was delighted when two new biographies of the Maid of Orleans landed on my book shelves in recent months.

In Joan of Arc, historian Helen Castor returns to the subject of powerful medieval women that she explored so successfully in She Wolves. Castor brings a new twist to a familiar story, signaled in the use of "a history" rather than "a biography" as a sub-title. Instead of starting with Joan, she begins with the turbulent history of fifteenth century France, placing Joan's achievements within the context of the bloody civil war that began with the assassination of Louis, Duke of Orleans, at the instigation of his brother, the Duke of Burgundy, in 1407. ****

Castor takes the reader step-by-step through the labyrinthine story of a France divided between Burgundians, the supporters of the French royal family, and the opportunistic claims of England's Henry V to the French crown. Joan appears in the narrative one-third of the way through the book, when all hope of the French dauphin claiming his throne seems lost. Even after she appears, Castor never loses sight of the larger picture, placing Joan's story within the context of previous French visionaries, politics within the French and English courts, and the realities of fifteenth century warfare.

Written with both scholarly rigor and the narrative tension of a historical thriller, Castor's Joan of Arc makes the story of St. Joan more understandable, more complex, and more extraordinary. Or as cultural historian and mythographer Marina Warner put in in her own study of St. Joan: “so grand, so odd, so stirring.”

One of these days I’ll get to Kathryn Harrison’s Joan of Arc: A Life Transfigured. Then it will be time for compare and contrast.

* Note to self, next time you have this kind of question, post it on the blog. *Headsmack*

**My favorite answer captured the essence of the legend without reference to historical detail: “She was that sturdy girl that wore armor, carried a sword, fought the bad guys, stormed their castles, was burned at the stake for her troubles, and smiled while burning...thus Sainthood. ???????????”

***I’d love to think that modern pre-teens didn’t need these role models the same way we did in the Dark Ages before the women’s movement of the late 1960s and early 1970s, but I’m afraid it’s not true. Hence the popularity of the A Mighty Girl website and the #LikeAGirl campaign.

****That assassination was the subject of another book I loved, Eric Jager’s Blood Royal. Read together, the two books illuminate not only the period, but each other. It’s thrilling when that happens.

The guts of this review previously appeared in Shelf Awareness for Readers.