In our upcoming November circular, we print Essays XII through XIV of Yoshida Kenkō’s Essays in Idleness. These passages explore the rare joy of conversing with an intimate friend, the pleasantest diversion of sitting alone under a lamp with a book, and the overtones of ancient waka poetry. To prepare for this, it is worth reflecting on the nature of solitary friendship and the decline of literary resonance in our speech.
Kenkō writes that "sitting alone under the lamp with a book" allows a man to make friends with "people of a distant past." This is a profound definition of reading. A book is an asynchronous communication layer across centuries. When we read a text written by an author long dead—whether it is Kenkō, Plato, or Augustine—we are participating in a conversation that bypasses the decay of time. We are entering into a friendship of minds that is often far more intimate, serious, and free from social friction than the conversations we have with our contemporaries. The quiet lamp is not a symbol of isolation, but of access.
However, this dialogue requires us to be receptive to "overtones." In his critique of modern poetry, Kenkō notes that contemporary works lack the rich, suggestive resonance of ancient waka. Traditional waka was built around yojō—meaning that is left unexpressed, living in the gaps and associations between words. Modern writing, by contrast, defaults to literalism and directness, saying everything loudly and leaving no room for the reader's imagination. When we lose our sensitivity to these literary overtones, our language becomes flat, functional, and incapable of carrying the deeper currents of human experience.
This November, we will reflect on how to cultivate this receptivity. We will explore how to sit under the lamp with the best texts of our civilization, learning to listen for the quiet, resonant overtones that can help us build a life rooted in deep, historical conversations.