Fortunately, Murasaki's writing abilities enable her to transcend the boredom and suffocation of daily existence. Dalby fictionalises a period where poetry was readily exchanged and treated as metaphors for matters otherwise too delicate to express outright. In fact, with its tendency to wax lyrical, The Tale of Murasaki reads like an extended Haiku poem. Moons, sunsets, bamboo stalks, mountains, flowers - all are eulogised in purplish prose. Although The Tale of Murasaki successfully recreates the intricacies of 11th-century court life in Japan, it requires more scrupulous editing.
Tedium soon sets in when sartorial matters are described for the umpteenth time.
Far too much time is also devoted to detailing the malicious gossip, petty jealousies and elaborate ceremonies within imperial grounds. On a more troubling note, Dalby's coy sexual allusions seem perversely lightweight when dealing with the amorous violence inflicted upon the women of Murasaki's circle. It appears that nothing too jarring is allowed to distract us from the fact that The Tale of Murasaki is a harmless, escapist romance. The novel is as light and fluffy as a dandelion floating in the breeze. Lau Siew Mei is a guest of next month's Age Melbourne Writers' Festival.