I often imagine that the longer he studies English literature
I often imagine that the longer he studies English literature the more the Japanese student must be astonished at the extraordinary predominance given to the passion of love both in fiction and in poetry.
Hear the contemplative words of Lafcadio Hearn, who observed: “I often imagine that the longer he studies English literature the more the Japanese student must be astonished at the extraordinary predominance given to the passion of love both in fiction and in poetry.” In this reflection, Hearn brings forth an ancient truth about the vast and varied worlds of literature. He speaks of the contrast between cultures, of the way love—that most elusive and tempestuous of emotions—dominates the imagination of one civilization while it may be regarded differently in another. For English literature has long been steeped in the yearning, the tragedy, and the ecstasy of love, while the Japanese literary tradition has tended to approach love with greater restraint, focusing on duty, honor, and fleeting beauty.
The ancients understood the nature of love differently depending on their age and land. To the Greeks, love was not a singular feeling, but a complex web of emotions: Eros, the passionate and uncontrollable love; Agape, the love of humanity; and Philia, the bond of friendship. Poetry and fiction, from Homer to Sappho, reflected these myriad expressions of love. Yet in these early tales, love was often depicted as something both divine and destructive. It lifted men to glory, as in the stories of Helen of Troy and the love between Paris and Helen, but it also brought ruin. Love was an overwhelming force, capable of both creation and devastation. Hearn’s observation speaks to this dynamic: in English literature, as in Homer’s epics, love plays a central role in shaping destinies, weaving both triumph and tragedy.
Consider the story of Romeo and Juliet, written by Shakespeare. To the English student, this tale of forbidden love is emblematic of the entire literary tradition—a love that transcends family, duty, and societal expectation. It is a consuming, youthful love that promises everything and delivers tragedy. Shakespeare's poetry is filled with such passionate declarations: "But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!" Here, love burns so brightly that it eclipses all else. For the English reader, love in literature is rarely restrained—it is fiery, it is wild, it is the force that propels characters into both joy and suffering.
Contrast this with Japanese literature, where love is often expressed with more subtlety and restraint. In the Tale of Genji, the great work of Murasaki Shikibu, the love that exists between Genji and the women he encounters is often tempered by social duty, the awareness of fleeting time, and the impermanence of beauty. It is not the violent, all-consuming passion of Romeo and Juliet, but a more nuanced reflection on the complexities of desire, loss, and the passing of seasons. In Japanese culture, love has traditionally been viewed through the lens of duty and honor, where poetry captures the melancholy beauty of impermanence rather than the reckless abandon seen in Western love stories.
Hearn’s words thus draw our attention to the profound cultural differences in the way love is perceived and portrayed. In the West, love is often the driving force of both personal identity and societal change. In Japan, love is woven into the fabric of social duties, family, and the transient nature of life itself. Yet, both traditions produce powerful poetry and fiction because they tap into the universal experience of human emotion. Whether celebrated wildly or restrained carefully, love shapes the stories we tell and the hearts that hear them.
The lesson here is one of understanding. Love, in its many forms, is a force that transcends borders, though its expression may differ. English literature teaches us that love can be a reckless, world-altering power, while Japanese literature invites us to see love as something that is fleeting, beautiful, and deeply entwined with the impermanence of life. Both approaches offer wisdom. The Western tradition teaches us the importance of passionate, all-encompassing love; the Eastern teaches us the beauty of restraint, of understanding the limits of our desires. In both, we find the same universal truth: love, in its essence, is the force that connects us all, shaping our world, our actions, and our very selves.
Practical actions follow. As readers, let us learn to appreciate the rich diversity in how love is portrayed across cultures. Let us not be limited by the conventions of our own traditions but allow ourselves to see love as both a consuming force and a delicate, fleeting moment. If you write, consider how love can be depicted not only through the extremes of passion but through the quieter, subtler moments—the soft glance, the unspoken connection, the beauty of the impermanent. Let your writing, whether poetry or fiction, reflect the fullness of this powerful emotion, without fear of its complexities.
Thus, Hearn speaks to us across time, urging us to reflect on the portrayal of love in literature, to see it in its varying forms. He calls us to appreciate the depths of English and Japanese traditions alike, to recognize how love shapes us all, no matter the form it takes. Let us honor this profound truth in our own lives, in our stories, and in our art, remembering that in the end, it is love—in all its facets—that gives meaning to the words we speak and the poems we write.
VVi
What strikes me here is Hearn’s awareness of cultural difference in emotional expression. The idea that a Japanese student would be surprised by love’s dominance in English writing feels very true, even today. I’m curious—does this suggest that love, as portrayed in Western art, functions almost like a religion, replacing spiritual devotion with romantic obsession? If so, is that a reflection of cultural evolution or emotional excess?
TBTrang banh
This perspective makes me reflect on how literary traditions shape emotional hierarchies. In English literature, love often overshadows themes like friendship, community, or spirituality. For someone from a culture like Japan’s, which historically values subtlety and social balance, this must appear exaggerated. Does that mean English writers are more emotionally expressive—or simply more self-centered in their storytelling focus?
MMoanhh
Reading this quote, I feel both intrigued and challenged. Hearn implies that English literature’s focus on love might even seem strange to outsiders. Maybe that’s true—many cultures treat love as one among many emotions, not the defining one. Could this mean that English literature romanticizes human experience to an unrealistic extent? Or is it simply that Western writers found love the most vivid metaphor for all human longing?
NHNgoc Ha
I find it fascinating that Hearn imagined the Japanese student’s perspective, noticing something that many native English readers probably take for granted. It raises the question—why has love become such a persistent preoccupation in English literature? Is it because it’s universally relatable, or because it allows for endless conflict and resolution? Perhaps love, in English writing, is less about romance and more about exploring vulnerability and identity.
TBnguyen thi thanh binh
Hearn’s comment strikes me as both insightful and slightly ironic, considering how much global literature now borrows from English traditions. It’s true—love dominates the Western canon to a degree that might seem excessive from another perspective. But does this emphasis diminish other emotional experiences, like loyalty, grief, or wonder? Maybe English literature’s obsession with love says more about Western psychology than about human nature itself.