Japanese Literary Terms

By Neil Plakcy

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When I began writing my series of stories based on the concepts of Japanese healing fiction, I discovered that there are many uniquely Japanese literary terms. The popularity of this form, of haiku, and even of K-drama, can help with all kinds of writing. Here are fifteen of the ones I’ve found, along with ways they can be used to generate emotional depth in your work. You don’t need to use the specific term—just understand how it can be used.

Aware

You can use the Japanese term aware (AH-WAH-RAY) to recognize that many of the objects in your work may have an emotional resonance, with feelings of sadness, patriotism, or happiness. Examples include a childhood home, seeing Olympians in the colors of the United States flag, the photo of a dead relative.

Hibiki

(HE-BEE-KEY) means echo. When the gray sky echoes the emotional despair of the character. When the noise of contractors working outside reflects the anger in a conversation.

Jo-ha-kyū

This concept of modulation and movement suggests actions should begin slowly, speed up, and then end swiftly. Compare this to the traditional three or four-act structure in genre fiction.

Kaori

(KAH-OH-REE) literally means scent or fragrance, but it has a deeper meaning in Japanese literature. For fiction writers, it can relate to the way we evoke the same feeling with very different images. Both a puppy lost in the rain and a newly divorced man might have kaori.

Karumi

(KAH-RUE-ME) means lightness, and the Japanese poet Basho used it to represent the beauty of ordinary things spoken of in a simple way. Sometimes we don’t need elaborate language or metaphors to convey feeling. An empty coffee mug left on the desk of a departed co-worker could be just a mug—or it could reflect something about the impermanence of friendship or business connections or the harshness of an economic recession.

Kidai

(KEY-DAY'EE) is a Japanese way of using metonyms. “Hollywood” represents the motion picture industry, and the White House stands for presidential power.

Kigo

(KEY-GO) are nouns which imply the season because they have been traditionally associated with certain times of the year in Japanese literature and/or real life. Daffodils and jonquils are among the first flowers of spring. With their variegated petals of red and yellow, chrysanthemums represent autumn.

Komorebi

The literal meaning of this word is the dappled sunlight filtering through trees, but it can remind us to bring gentle beauty into our works.

Ma

Ma represents the importance of emptiness in a composition. Consider the pause between action and response, between two characters expressing emotion. Ma signifies a moment of contemplation or a pause within a piece. 

Mono no aware

The addition of "mono" (things/objects) transforms the concept into an awareness of the transient nature of all things and the gentle sadness that comes with this understanding. It's not just about feeling touched or moved—it's about recognizing the inherent impermanence in beauty and life itself. This concept can be useful when you have a reflective character considering his or her past.

Mono no aware is a Japanese idiom that conveys a deep awareness of the impermanence of things and the sadness that comes with it. 

A classic example that illustrates the difference: When viewing cherry blossoms...

• Aware might be the simple emotional response to their beauty

• Mono no aware would be the bittersweet appreciation of their beauty precisely because they are fleeting, combined with the recognition that this very impermanence is what makes them so meaningful in Japanese culture
  

Mushin

(MOO-SHE'N) refers to a mental state of complete focus and clarity, free from distractions and emotional turmoil. In English, we might consider that “flow.” Consider how you can use this to show your character at work or at play.

Sabi

(SAH-BEE) signifies age or loneliness. Use an image in your writing that expresses something aged or weathered with a hint of sadness because of being abandoned. A boarded-up building in a city, or an old barn in the countryside.

Wabi

(WAH-BEE) means poverty, but in your writing it can be used to express something that is a result of living simply. Consider a well-lived-in kitchen, a pair of frayed jeans, or a coffee table scarred by long use.

Wabi-sabi

Combining wabi and sabi brings us to the beauty of imperfection and impermanence. You can use this to express the feeling that a character has for an object that has been well-used or damaged in the past.

Yugen

A mysterious and profound beauty that cannot be fully expressed in words, often associated with a sense of deep emotion. Compare this to Hemingway’s idea that a story is like an iceberg; only part of it is visible above the surface. What lies beneath is yugen.

Motifs for Murder

By Delphine Boswell

No, the title is not a typo, and motifs was not meant to be motives.

If you had asked me, “What is a motif?” twenty-five years ago, I would have had no idea. After earning a master’s degree in Rhetoric and Composition, teaching college and university students, and receiving a Master of Fine Arts degree in Creative Writing, I shout out not only the definition but also the importance of motifs in mysteries.

Of course, the definition of a motif, or at least mine, is: a literary device that uses repetition of a key word, phrase, symbol, color, or image to emphasize a subtle meaning. A motif also helps to develop the overall theme of the written work.

In my work in progress, one of my motifs is dead black crows. Some see crows—more than two are called a murder—as a message or prediction of sadness, danger, and even death to come. Further employing crows as a motif also helps to emphasize my overall theme of good versus evil and, more specifically, that even the most righteous can fall from a pedestal of grace into the darkness of sin.

But what exactly is the etymology of the word motif? Interestingly, the origin of the word dates back to the 14th century when the word in Old French meant to “drive,” and in Medieval Latin meant “to move.” Similarly, today, motifs are used to drive or move the theme along.

The use of motifs in mystery novels serve this very purpose, and in fact, Edgar Allan Poe, considered to be the father of detective fiction, used such common motifs as death, fear or terror, and madness in several of his short stories.

In the Sherlock Holmes canon, written by Arthur Conan Doyle, he creates such themes as cunning and cleverness, justice and judgment, and society and class, to name a few. He uses such symbols as Toby the dog to represent devotedness and faithfulness, a coronet as a tool to represent greed and hidden worth, and exotic animals to represent the dark, threatening, and poisonous nature of Dr. Roylott in “The Adventure of the Speckled Band.”

Agatha Christie used a rhyming verse of then there were none, well as dreams and hallucinations, as motifs in her novel “And Then There Were None.”

Motifs can be used in character development. If a character is depressed, the description of her clothes as being heavy and black can convey her mood. If a character is arrogant and haughty, the writer might choose to use the motif of mirrors or the repeated phrase mirror, mirror on the wall. The continual wailing of a baby can foster grief, suffering, and pain. 

Motifs can also be implemented to create a mood. A foreboding tone might use motifs such as heavy drapery, dusty furniture, or squeaky floors. On the other hand, a joyous mood could be represented by gnomes appearing in a sitting room or in a garden. A threatening mood might be depicted by thunderstorms, lightening, and thunder.

Another place to incorporate motif is in setting. Rain might imply treacherous conditions or uncontrollable circumstances. Some motifs to describe an isolated setting are weeds, dead flowers, or a howling coyote. A hospital’s motifs are squeaky oxfords, medicinal smells, or overhead public announcements.

In the above examples of characterization, mood development, or setting creation, you probably noticed that motifs are often examples of sensory language, such as sight, sound, and smell. What categorizes them as motifs is the frequent use of them in a written work.

Another literary term known as a tag also becomes a motif if used often. An example of this is a tapping cane, a pipe’s scent, or a twitching eye. Not only are these words used to describe or to set apart one character from another, but they also could imply nervous habits, anxious traits, or restlessness if used as motifs.

In my opinion, this literary device is often neglected in mystery novels. The importance of red herrings, misdirection, and cliffhangers, for example, are a must, but don’t discount the use of motif to reinforce your theme, add depth and meaning for the reader, and contribute a subtle ambiance to the plot.