aaron wrote: either you have context, or you don't (and in that case you can't "hear your way through the music" to the people on the other end of it, and their supposed intentions, which you claim to be as important as the sound itself)
I have no context I can define for Japanese literature. I know nothing of its history, origins, social milieu, antecedants or value to its originating culture. That said, I think Shusaku Endo's "Silence" is an awesome novel. It hurts reading it. It made me think about more things than I can count, the least important of them being my mortality and belief in my own convictions.
I have no context for this work other than what I bring to it, which is minimal in this case. I am not Japanese. I am not a history buff. I am not a practicing Catholic. I have no reverence for religion, religious men, or even a belief in God. Come to think of it, I brought nothing to this book. Endo did all the work. He wrote a great novel, and it isn't great because of the title, its setting, where I discovered it or any other trivialities. It is great because he did the hard part: He expressed complex ideas in a genuine way that doesn't play games with the presentation or meaning of the sentences.
I suggest that context is currently (say for the last fifty years) grossly over-valued in the appreciation of art, much as it was under-valued in the couple of centuries before.
It matters, I guess, about on a par with purchase price or something, but it isn't everything -- it is far less than it is made out to be.