Fat-bottomed Girls

No extensive cuts in the first ten pages of Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, just one paragraph and a few minor sentences, but Birnbaum does choose to leave out one really nice line. The elevator door has opened and Boku Watashi is following the plump lady in a pink suit:

The woman was on the chubby side. Young and beautiful and all that went with it, but chubby. Now a young, beautiful woman who is, shall we say, plump, seems a bit off. Walking behind her, I fixated on her body. (7)

Here is the Japanese:

女はむっくりと太っていた。若くて美人なのだけれど、それにもかかわらず女は太っていた。若くて美しい女が太っているというのは、何かしら奇妙なものだった。私は彼女のうしろを歩きながら、彼女の首や腕や脚をずっと眺めていた。彼女の体には、まるで夜のあいだに大量の無音の雪が降ったみたいに、たっぷりと肉がついていた。(23)

Birnbaum gets everything, for the most part, but leaves out the last sentence for whatever reason. I thought it was nicely phrased:

The woman was chubby. Young and beautiful, sure, but chubby nonetheless. There’s something strange about a young, beautiful woman who is chubby. The whole time I walked behind her, I looked at her neck and arms and legs. It was as though a thick layer of fat had settled there overnight like a silent, heavy snowfall.

My guess is that Birnbaum didn’t want to make Boku Watashi seem like too much of a creeper this early in the novel. He cuts the final sentence and turns the specific target of Boku’s Watashi’s vision into a more general “fixated,” which I think reads smoothly but definitely alters the original.

Scouting the Competition

I wanted to see what the competition looks like in the Expats Blog writing contest, so I did the hard work and looked through all 42 other entries. Not surprisingly, there are a lot of weak ones. Something about travel writing makes it one of the easiest types of writing to do poorly. I know I’ve been a perpetrator in the past, but I’ve been surprised by the reaction I’ve gotten from readers – seems like I’m on the right track with this piece even if I’m not all the way there yet. If you haven’t, check out my entry “How to Fly First Class For Free” and leave a comment of support! Today is the last day to do so.

The biggest crimes that the entries seems to commit are:

– Listing things. This makes it clear that the author wasn’t able to synthesize a main idea. Feels far too bloggy to me, which is how a lot of the writers work (including this one). Nothing wrong with blogging, but I hope the judges will be looking for more than a blog post in this contest.

– Focusing on the departure. One common theme was the hustle and bustle in a home country before arriving abroad. I found it pretty boring, although maybe that’s because my own initial departure was so long ago. I guess it’s an easy place to start a story (one that I kind of rely on to a certain extent), but it again makes me think the writer didn’t have a focus and was just writing from a natural beginning. (Like starting a short story with the main character waking up.)

Three of the stories managed to reel me in:

“Fourth Grade in a Foreign Country”
Sharon Ashworth shares the trials and tribulations of sending her daughter to elementary school in Germany. This one had me from the solid first sentence: “Thankfully, there was a smile at the end of the first day of school.” I also loved the alliteration in the title.

“Finding our bliss in Bangkok”
This entry by Kathy Drouin-Keith is told largely in detailed scenes and has some really well penned lines, my favorite being the following: “If you want to see a tickled Thai, have a little Western boy wai them.” I can imagine being her son, who ruins her attempts at negotiation with his tears.

“Dude – where’s my bathroom?”
The title anecdote from Sarah Drane’s story is very funny – one of the most surprising I’ve heard from expats, although I did meet a JET who returned to his Aomori apartment after winter break to find his pipes frozen, exploded, and spewing water into his closet. Sarah would definitely be able to sympathize.

Cool Compound – 静物画

Pages 15-22 are in the bag. This was my first time reading Japanese for about 4-5 months, and there has been noticeable deterioration in my kanji recognition skills. I noticed this at Japan Fest the other day when I wrote ヨ and thought to myself, hey, that looks like a backwards E. This is not a good sign.

When I was reading through these pages, 静物画 (せいぶつが) really stood out to me. I had to stare at 静 for a while to remember what it meant and how to pronounce it, but I knew from context and memory what it meant in Japanese – it’s hard to forget the initial elevator scene in Hard-Boiled Wonderland. Long, wind-up opening chapters became Murakami’s trademark with this novel, and nowhere is it more fun to read than here. We’re locked in boku’s Watashi’s consciousness and humor: he sees himself as a still life portrait in this strange elevator.

The compound 静物, a very cool homophone with 生物, follows the pattern ADJECTIVE + NOUN (still/quiet + thing) and is then attached to 画.

The good news is that I did not have to look this one up and was still able to rustle up the meaning and pronunciation. I wasn’t so lucky with 歩幅 (ほはば), a NOUN + NOUN compound. I blame this on the stupid compound 几帳面 (きちょうめん), which came a few sentences before and primed my brain to read any 巾 kanji as ちょう.

A Confession

As part of my graduate assistantship, I teach one section of the required freshman composition course at my university. This is the third semester I’ve taught it, and I love the curriculum. Unlike the composition course I took twelve (!) years ago, the one I teach focuses on three different genres of writing – the students write a personal essay, a profile essay, and a review essay. While these don’t really prepare the students for future academic writing, I think the scaffolded approach to writing, the introduction of free/fast/automatic writing to generate ideas, the emphasis on personal experience, and the insistence that kids write about something that interests them makes it easier to see writing for what it is – an attempt to communicate with another person.** This becomes easier if the material is something you’re personally excited about rather than, say, bullshitting about symbolism in Lord of the Flies. This is something I didn’t learn until I started writing this blog.

(**I’m not completely remiss; since my second semester teaching, I’ve also had my students write short analysis essays that mimic the more structured academic form. I want them to be on solid ground when they leave this course, even if they don’t know it.)

During the profile unit this semester, I had the students interview each other and write one-page mini-profiles of each other. There were an odd number of students, so one got to interview me. The next day in class we examined the student’s writing as a group, and the others had a chance to ask me questions and fill in information the writer hadn’t included. This involved answering a number of questions about my experience in Japan. A few hours later, after class, I got the following message from a different student: “can you help me with Japanese because its hard”

I was initially confused by the email. This is a student who sat at the back of the classroom, didn’t take notes, and didn’t do much homework. I had to ask the student to put away his cell phone a couple of times during class. On the other hand, I had been surprised by his writing ability on the essays. The student speaks in African-American vernacular, but his essays were in “standard” English; he even included dialogue in vernacular within the standard English of his essay, an impressive feat of bilingualism.

I asked him if he was in the Japanese class at school, and he said yes, so we set up a time to meet and talk about studying Japanese. He came into my office on one of my off days, and we sat down and looked at the textbook.

“Why’d you pick Japanese?” I asked. My student looked down and smiled, revealing his braces. He scratched at his head. “Did you just think it was cool,” I continued, “or are you—”

“Naw,” he said. “I’m actually interested in it.”

I was surprised to hear it and asked a few questions about anime and other Japanese stuff, trying to get a feel for how he’d come around to Japanese, but he kept pretty quiet. So we started to size up where he was at. The class had just started Chapter 3 in Genki Japanese, but he was still getting the kana memorized. He had a D in the course. “Alright, well, we should try to bring that up,” I said. It became clear that he didn’t have a way in. The teacher had been covering the material but hadn’t given this student any study techniques that had worked for him.

Without a mastery of the kana, I felt handicapped, especially since the Genki textbooks don’t use romaji whatsoever (a good thing), so I showed him Anki and a couple of other websites. We looked through the textbooks. I asked him if he had any questions, but he couldn’t really articulate any, so we did a brief look at verb conjugation.

As we worked, I had a moment of realization: I am more focused and interested now than I usually am while teaching composition or lesson planning composition. It was an intense feeling of complete submersion and focus. And it made me really disappointed that I haven’t been able to keep up this website or my Japanese as much as I’d like.

My opportunities to practice Japanese have been few and far between, so I haven’t been able to find any “new ways in,” which is the most important content of this blog. The videos and Murakami stuff are fun, but language brought me to the dance, and language I will always go home with. I’ve taken a detour in my life with this creative writing program, and I need to make sure I stay on track. I’ve written a little about the origin of this detour in a new nonfiction essay I’ve submitted for a contest over at Expats Blogs. I certainly know how to treat a reader: sucker them in with a catchy title like “How to Fly First Class For Free” and then punch ‘em in the balls with 4500 words of personal essay told in the second person. It may or may not have been a huge mistake to submit this.

Either way, I’d love it if you checked it out and gave it Ye Olde Facebook Like or left a comment. The staff at Expats Blogs judge the contest but take into account comments and Likes. Tell me what I should fix. Tell me what works and what doesn’t. I think I still need another revision on this piece, but the basic idea is in place.

For the short-term future, my focus in life is producing and revising my non-Japanese-related work, both fiction and nonfiction. I still need something to keep up this blog and keep up my Japanese, and I’ve been thinking seriously about this composition course – what can I do from abroad that will keep me interested and motivated and will relate to Japanese?

The answer is, of course, Murakami. I hope not too many of you groaned because, as a way to resuscitate my interaction with Japanese, I’m going to temporarily refocus this blog and take up a new project that resembles my annual Murakami Fest.

Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World is 590 pages in Japanese, and if I read 10-20 pages a week for the next year, I should be able to find blog content, practice Japanese, and finally read the book that made me want to learn the damn language in the first place. So that’s what I’ll be doing. If I’m not back in Japan within a year, then I hope that I’ll at least be out of New Orleans in a city with a larger Japanese population.

Let’s see how this goes. 頑張るぞ!

Kick-Heart Kickstarter Project

RUN don’t walk over to Masaaki Yuasa‘s Kickstarter Project Kick-Heart! There are just over 12 hours left on the project, and you can still help support the first crowdfunded anime.

Yuasa is the director behind the 2004 movie Mind Game, which has to be one of the top three or four massive triumphs of anime in the last ten years (to me, it’s the best anime movie ever, but I haven’t seen that much, to be honest). His new project will fund a 10-minute anime short about two wrestlers:

There are a bunch of different reward levels, but 5 USD will get you an SD download of the movie – great value! Pledge higher to get a higher quality download or physical rewards like T-shirts and DVDs and whatnot.

If you’re interested in Kickstarter, you should also check out my Kickstarter blog over at Kick What? I’ve been cheating on Japan and Japanese with the crowdfunding crew. More Japanese stuff coming in the near future.

Mountain Climbing

With the goal of stirring up even more interest in Murakami between now and mid-October, when the Nobel Prizes are announced, I will post a small piece of Murakami translation once a week from now until the announcement. You can see the other entries in this year’s series here: Jurassic Sapporo, Gerry Mulligan, All Growns Up, Dance.

One more post this year, just a quick one due to schedule challenges at Morales Headquarters.

We fast-forward a few chapters. Boku has been hanging out in the hotel, still longing for connection with someone, so he sort of tortures Yumiyoshi a bit. After one incident where he bothers her at the front desk, she calls him in his room to chastise him.

“It’s very upsetting. I told you that. When I’m on duty, I get tense. So please, don’t do anything like that again. You promised not to stare too.”

“I wasn’t staring. I was just trying to talk to you.”

“Well, then, from now on, no more talking like that. Please.”

“I promise, I promise. No talking. No staring and no talking. I’ll be quiet as granite. But you know, while I’ve got you on the line, are you free this evening? Or do you have mountain-climbing lessons tonight?”

There was the sound of a dry laugh, half of it silence, and then she hung up.” (99)

Boku here is poking fun at Yumiyoshi’s “swim club” (in Japanese スイミング・スクール), which previously prevented her from going on another date. In Japanese, this has just a minor cut:

「緊張するのよ。前にも言ったでしょう?仕事している時って、私すごく緊張してやってるの。だから邪魔してほしくないの。約束したじゃない?じろじろ見たりしないって」

「じろじろ見てない。話しかけただけだ」

「じゃあこれからもうあんな風に話しかけないで。お願い」

「約束する。話しかけない。見ないし、話しかけない。花崗岩みたいにじっとおとなしくしてる。ねえ、ところで君は今夜は暇なのかな?それとも今日は登山教室のある日だっけね?」

「登山教室?」と彼女は言ってから溜め息をついた。「冗談ね、それ」

「そう、冗談だよ」

「時々私ね、そういう冗談についていけなくなるの。登山教室だって。ははは」

彼女は壁に書かれた字を読みあげるみたいに乾いた平板な声ではははと言った。そして電話を切った。 (150)

I’ll go ahead and translate the whole thing even though Birnbaum includes almost everything (much more successfully than I do). The cut comes close to the end:

“I get nervous. Didn’t I already tell you? I’m always really nervous while I’m working. So I don’t want anyone bothering me. And you promised that you wouldn’t stare either.”

“I wasn’t staring. I just tried talking to you.”

“Well, don’t talk to me like that again. Please.”

“I promise. I won’t talk to you. Won’t stare or talk to you. I’ll be as still and quiet as granite. So, anyway, are you free tonight? Or do you have your mountain-climbing class tonight?”

“Mountain climbing class?” she said and sighed. “That’s a joke, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a joke.”

“Sometimes I don’t get jokes like that. *Mountain climbing* class. Ha. Ha. Ha.” She laughed dryly like she was reading each Ha off a board on the wall where they were written. Then she hung up.

This is a typical Birnbaum cut. He’s going for speed and humor and, in doing so, he uses a translation sandpaper of a courser grit, knocking off the edges here and there. Both his and Murakami’s version help characterize Yumiyoshi, but they do so in different ways. Murakami reveals her naiveté and her sense of humor, whereas Birnbaum cuts to the chase, creating a kind of snarkier version.

I’d be interested to track this throughout the whole book and see how the balance works out. Sadly, though, the Nobel Prize announcement is this Thursday, so it’ll have to wait until next year! Unless this is the year he wins. He’s getting 2/1 odds right now, which is the highest he’s ever been. See y’all at the announcement!

And on a side note, I’ve been using asterisks to symbolize italics within my block quotes because I’m still trying to work out the CSS of my new theme. (The standard setting has all blockquote text in italics, which was clearly programmed by someone who is a computer science major and not a liberal arts major. I managed to prevent that from happening but the result is that I am unable to italicize anything.) The Japanese is, of course, 傍点, which I’m still not sure can be accomplished in CSS…anyone know? It’s difficult to tell, but I bolded the original Japanese.

Dance

With the goal of stirring up even more interest in Murakami between now and mid-October, when the Nobel Prizes are announced, I will post a small piece of Murakami translation once a week from now until the announcement. You can see the other entries in this year’s series here: Jurassic Sapporo, Gerry Mulligan, All Growns Up.

I’d be remiss to examine the translation of Dance Dance Dance without looking at Birnbaum’s treatment of the Sheep Man, and I’ll be doing that this week, but first I want to look at the way Birnbaum adjusts ends of stories and section breaks. We saw a little hint of this last week when Birnbaum adjusted regular speaker tags and straight dialogue to create a cooler Boku and a funnier place to pause: not total invention, but definitely a cleaning up of Murakami’s text.

One of the most noticeable places where Birnbaum made a tone-altering decision is at the end of “Lederhosen” from Dead-heat on a Merry-go-round (in translation in The Elephant Vanishes). The story is ostensibly narrated by Murakami himself, and he recounts and encounter with his wife’s friend, a woman whose mother divorces herself from her husband and daughter after a trip to Germany where she has a local try on a souvenir pair of lederhosen in place of the husband. Here are the last few lines:

“Still, if you leave the lederhosen out of it, supposing it was just the story of a woman taking a trip and finding herself, would you have been able to forgive her?”

“Of course not,” she says without hesitation. “The whole point is the lederhosen, right?”

A proxy pair of lederhosen, I’m thinking, that her father never even received. (129)

The Japanese is:

「それでもし―もし、さっきの話から半ズボンの部分を抜きにして、一人の女性が旅先で自立を獲得するというだけの話だったとしたら、君はお母さんが君を捨てたことを許せただろうか?」

「駄目ね」と彼女は即座に答えた。「この話のポイントは半ズボンにあるのよ」

「僕もそう思う」と僕はいった。 (33)

The first two paragraphs are faithful translations, but the last line in English is:

“I think so, too,” I said.

Even taking liberties, you could go for something like, “I have to agree,” I said. Or even just “I had to agree.” Birnbaum goes much further and has the narrator meditate on the image of the lederhosen, which I think is a stronger ending, one that emphasizes the strange physicality of the clothing and how they must’ve shaped the man (and the husband, in her imagination, giving her some kind of new perspective). But liberties have clearly been taken.

The same is true when the Sheep Man is introduced in Dance Dance Dance. In Chapter 9, Boku is out of things to do and decides to head to the bar on one of the upper floors of the hotel. He gets caught up in his thoughts about Egypt, the receptionist, swim clubs, and he finds that the Sheep Man has popped into his thoughts. He gets out of the elevator and is surrounded by darkness. Chapter 10 is a few short pages of Boku navigating more of his thoughts and the strange darkness of the hotel hallway. It ends with these lines:

“Beenwaitingforyou. Beenwaitingforages. Comeonin.”

I knew who it was without opening my eyes. (79)

The Japanese is close to this, but not identical:

「待っていたよ」とそれは言った。「ずっと待ってた。中に入りなよ」

それが誰なのか目を開けなくてもわかった。

羊男だった。 (122)

Again, the last line is absent in translation: “It was the Sheep Man.” An unnecessary line, for sure, especially since Murakami so creepily has the Sheep Man appear in Boku’s thoughts. We expect it to be the Sheep Man, and Birnbaum’s unique formatting of his dialogue make it impossible to mistake. It’s a better chapter break without the line.

There are other cuts made in my favorite section of the novel, where the Sheep Man tells Boku to dance. Nothing too major, but still interesting to examine. In translation, here’s how Birnbaum renders it:

“So where does that leave me?”

“Youlostlotsofthings. Lostlotsofpreciousthings. Notanybody’sfault. Buteachtimeyoulostsomething, youdroppedawholestringofthingswithit. Nowwhy? Why’dyouhavetogoanddothat?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hardtododifferent. Yourfate,orsomethinglikefate. Tendencies.”

“Tendencies?”

“Tendencies. Yougottendencies. Soevenifyoudideverythingoveragain, yourwholelife, yougottendenciestodojustwhatyoudid, alloveragain.”

“Yes, but where does that leave me?”

“Likewesaid, we’lldowhatwecan. Trytoreconnectyou,towhatyouwant,” said the Sheep Man. “Butwecan’tdoitalone. Yougottaworktoo. Sitting’snotgonnadoit, thinking’snotgonnadoit.”

“So what do I have to do?”

“Dance,” said the Sheep Man. “Yougottadance. Aslongasthemusicplays. Yougotta dance. Don’teventhinkwhy. Starttothink, yourfeetstop. Yourfeetstop, wegetstuck. Wegetstuck, you’restuck. Sodon’tpayanymind, nomatterhowdumb. Yougottakeepthestep. Yougottalimberup. Yougottaloosenwhatyoubolteddown. Yougottauseallyougot. Weknowyou’retired, tiredandscared. Happenstoeveryone, okay? Justdon’tletyourfeetstop.”

I looked up and gazed again at the shadow on the wall. (85-86)

I love that section. It’s kind of embarrassing to admit, but I quoted the Sheep Man from this section in the high school yearbook my senior year. Birnbaum does amazing work with his weird, no-spacing style and with the actual language he gives the Sheep Man to say. However, he does make a few changes – an interesting rearrangement and a cut of a significant section:

「どうすればいいんだろう、僕は?」

「あんたはこれまでにいろんなものを失ってきた。いろんな大事なものを失ってきた。それが誰のせいかというのは問題じゃない。問題はあんたがそれにくっつけたものにある。あんたは何かを失うたびに、そこに別の何かをくっつけて置いてきてしまったんだ。まるでしるしみたいにね。あんたはそんなことするべきじゃなかったんだ。あんたは自分のためにとっておくべき物までそこに置いてきてしまったんだな。そうすることによって、あんた自身も少しずつ磨り減ってきたんだ。どうしてかな?どうしてそんなことをしたんだろう?」

「わからないね」

「でも、たぶんそれはどうしようもないことだったんだろうね。何か運命のようなさ。なんというか、うまい言葉が思いつかないけど......」

「傾向」と僕は言ってみた。

「そう、それだよ。傾向。おいらは思うんだよ。もう一度人生をやりなおしても、あんたはきっとまた同じことをするだろうってね。それが傾向っていうもんだよ。そしてその傾向というものは、ある地点を超えると、もうもとに戻れなくなっちまうんだ。手遅れなんだ。そういうのはおいらにも何ともしてあげられない。おいらにできることはここの番をすることと、いろんなものを繋げることだけだよ。それ以上のことは何もできない。」

「どうすればいいんだろう、僕は?」と僕は前と同じ質問をもう一度してみた。

「さっきも言ったように、おいらも出来るだけのことはするよ。あんたが上手く繋がれるように、やってみる」と羊男は言った。「でもそれだけじゃ足りない。あんたも出来るだけのことをやらなくちゃいけない。じっと座ってものを考えているだけじゃ駄目なんだ。そんなことしてたって何処にもいけないんだ。わかるかい?」

「わかるよ」と僕は言った。「それで僕はいったいどうすればいいんだろう?」

「踊るんだよ」羊男は言った。「音楽の鳴っている間はとにかく踊り続けるんだ。おいらの言ってることはわかるかい?踊るんだ。踊り続けるんだ。何故踊るかなんて考えちゃいけない。意味なんてことは考えちゃいけない。意味なんてもともとないんだ。そんなことを考えだしたら足が停まる。一度足が停まったら、もうおいらには何ともしてあげられなくなってしまう。あんたの繋がりはもう何もなくなってしまう。永遠になくなってしまうんだよ。そうするとあんたはこっちの世界の中でしか生きていけなくなってしまう。どんどんこっちの世界に引き込まれてしまうんだ。だから足を停めちゃいけない。どれだけ馬鹿馬鹿しく思えても、そんなこと気にしちゃいけない。きちんとステップを踏んで踊り続けるんだよ。そして固まってしまったものを少しずつでもいいからほぐしていくんだよ。まだ手遅れになっていないものもあるはずだ。使えるものは全部使うんだよ。ベストを尽くすんだよ。怖がることは何もない。あんたはたしかに疲れている。疲れで、脅えている。誰にでもそういう時がある。何もかもが間違っているように感じられるんだ。だから足が停まってしまう」

僕は目を上げて、また壁の上の影をしばらく見つめた。 (131-133)

Put that into the Morales Translation Machine, and you get:

“What should I be doing, then?”

“You’ve lost a lot of things on your way here. Lost a heap of important things. And it ain’t worth worrying over whose fault it is. But you did have a lot of things attached to what you lost. Whenever you lost something, you left behind something else attached to it. Almost like a *sign* of some sort. That you shouldn’ta done. You left behind things that you should’ve kept for yourself. And by doing that, you gradually wore yourself down. Now why was that? Why would you go and do something like that?”

“I dunno.”

“Maybe it couldn’ta been helped. Something like fate, ‘er, whaddya call it…can’t think of a good word for ‘er…”

“Tendencies,” I offered.

“Yep, that’s it. Tendencies. That’s what we think it is. Even if you did your whole life over again, you’d end up doing the same things again. That’s what tendencies are. And once you go beyond a certain point, those tendencies prevent you from ever getting back. It’s too late. Even we can’t do anything for you after that. All we can do is watch over this place, and connect all sorts of things. Can’t do anything else.

“What should I be doing, then?” I said, asking again the same question as before.

As I told you before, we’ll do all we can for you. Everything we can, so you can get connected well,” the Sheep Man said. “But that’s not enough on its own. You’ve gotta do all you can as well. Can’t just sit around thinking about stuff the whole time. Do that and you won’t get anywhere. You understand?”

“I understand,” I said. “So what exactly is it I need to do?”

“Dance,” the Sheep Man said. “Just dance while the music’s playing. You get what we’re saying? Dance. Keep dancing. Don’t think about why you’re dancing. Don’t think about what it means. Think about that and yer feet’ll stop. Yer feet stop, and there’s nothing we can do for you. All yer connections go poof and are gone. Gone forever. Let that happen, and you’ll only be able to live in this world. You’ll gradually be pulled into this world. So don’t stop your feet. No matter how silly you think it is, don’t pay any attention to that. Keep dancing all the right steps. And loosen up all the things that have tightened, just a little at a time is fine. There’s gotta be some things it ain’t too late to save. Use everything ya can. Do your best. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re definitely tired. And because of that you’re scared. Everybody’s got times like that. Everything feels like it’s wrong. And that’s why your feet stop.”

I lifted my eyes and stared at the shadows on the top of the wall again for a second.

I’ve underlined all the sections that are unaccounted for. Nothing too major missing except for the “You’ll only be able to live in this world” section. Birnbaum doesn’t cut all of this from the chapter; earlier there is a long section where the Sheep Man explains that Boku is a part of “this world.” This section is just another prompt that links the conversation more smoothly to Boku’s question, “What is *this world* you keep talking about?”

The most notable change is that Boku is the one who comes up with the word “tendencies.” The Sheep Man slips, can’t think of the word, and Boku supplies it. I wonder if the lack of spacing would have made it difficult to get across the rhythm of that exchange.

No major complaints or lessons from me this week. Just further realization that translation might be the most interesting thing to do in the world.

All Growns Up

With the goal of stirring up even more interest in Murakami between now and mid-October, when the Nobel Prizes are announced, I will post a small piece of Murakami translation once a week from now until the announcement. You can see the other entries in this year’s series here: Jurassic Sapporo, Gerry Mulligan.

Murakami Fest continues, and we remain with Boku and the receptionist (whom we will later learn is named Yumiyoshi, a name that Boku doesn’t ask for until page 107, and even then she refuses to tell him – strange, but this is Murakami so we don’t ask too many questions). We remain in Chapter 7, a very long chapter indeed. So long that it required numerous cuts. We looked at a minor one last week. This week we look at three longer cuts.

After arriving at the bar, Boku sips on his J&B and water (coincidentally, the preferred drink of a certain investment banker from the 80s) until Yumiyoshi arrives. She’s tense from a long day at work but also from the mental preparation it’s taken to gear up to tell the story of her encounter with the Sheep Man on the sixteenth floor – the encounter was frightening. With that out of the way with, she and Boku continue on to more pleasant conversation about themselves. We learn that her family runs a ryokan in Asahikawa and that she worked in Tokyo at a hotel. Boku then remarks that that must be the reason why she looked like “the spirit of the hotel” when he first saw her. She shrugs it off and says she could never be that. Then we get these lines:

“I’m sure you can, if that’s what you want,” I smiled back.

She thought that over a while, then asked to hear my story. (49)

A quick cut away from her to Boku. In Japanese, however, the “thinking over” is much more drawn out:

「君なら、努力すればなれる」と僕は言って微笑んだ。「でも、ホテルには誰も留らないよ。それでいいの?みんなやってきてただ通り過ぎて行くだけだよ」

「そうね」と彼女は言った。「でも何かが留ると、怖いような気がするの。どうしてかしら?臆病なのかしら?みんながやってきて、そして去って行くの。でもそれでほっとするの。変よね、そんなのって。普通の女の子ってそんな風に思わないでしょう?普通の女の子って何か確かな物を求めている物なのよ。違う?でも私はそうじゃない。どうしてだろう?わからないわ」

「君は変じゃないと思う」と僕は言った。「まだ定まってないだけなんだ」

彼女は不思議そうに僕を見た。「ねえ、どうしてそんなことがあなたにわかるの?」

「どうしてだろう?」と僕は言った。「でも何となくわかるんだ」

彼女はしばらくそれについて考えていた。

「あなたの話をして」と彼女は言った。 (82)

My quick and dirty version:

“I’m sure you could, if you give it a shot,” I said with a smile. “But no one stays at a hotel forever. Would you be alright with that? Everyone arrives and then just passes straight through.”

“This is true,” she said. “But I feel like it’d be kind of scary if something actually stayed. I wonder why I feel that way? Maybe I’m just depressed chicken? Everyone arrives, and they leave. But it’s a relief. That’s strange, isn’t it? To think like that. Ordinary girls probably don’t think like that, right? Ordinary girls want something more definite, no? But I’m not like that. I dunno why.”

“I don’t think you’re strange,” I said. “It’s just that nothing’s been set for you yet.”

She looked at me strangely. “How do you know?”

“I dunno,” I said. “I can just tell.”

She thought about that for a second.

“Tell me about you,” she said.

First the language issues. You say 泊まる I say 留る; interesting decision to switch away from 泊まる which has been used earlier in the chapter. I translated as “stay forever,” although I’m sure there’s an option more nuanced than that. Not confident about my translation of 定まっていない, so I stayed pretty literal. Also not confident about the rendering of 臆病. Is she saying that she’s depressed? Or that “it’s a depressing thought,” it being the previous sentence?

Interesting section to cut. It doesn’t really add much, I don’t think, but it does play on typical Murakami themes, notably the “passing through” theme that Murakami mined in Wind-up Bird.

Boku goes on to give a rundown on his own life, emphasizing how pointless his current line of work is – he compares it to “shoveling snow”:

“Shoveling snow, huh?” she mused.

“Well, you know, cultural snow,” I said. (49)

And then there’s a space break. After the break, the translation picks up with, “We drank a lot.” In Japanese, however, there’s no space break. Just a continuation:

「雪かき」と彼女は言った。

「文化的雪かき」と僕は言った。

それから彼女は僕の離婚について知りたがった。

「僕が離婚しようと思って離婚したわけじゃない。彼女の方がある日突然出ていったんだ。男と一緒に」

「傷ついた?」

「そういう立場に立てば普通の人間なら誰でも多少傷つくんじゃないかな」

彼女はテーブルに頬杖をついて僕の目を見た。「ごめんなさい。変な訊きかたをして。でもあなたはどういうふうに傷つくのか、うまく想像できなかったの。あなたってどういう風に傷つくのかしら?傷つくとどうなるのかしら?」

「キース・ヘリングのバッジをコートにつけるようになる」

彼女は笑った。「それだけ?」

「僕が言いたいのは」と僕は言った。「そういうのって慢性化するってことなんだ。日常に飲み込まれて、どれが傷なのかわからなくなっちゃうんだ。でもそれはそこにある。傷というのはそういうものなんだ。これといって取り出して見せることのできるものじゃないし、見せることのできるものは、そんなの大した傷じゃない」

「あなたの言いたいことはすごくよくわかる」

「そう?」

「そうは見えないかもしれないけれど、私だっていろんなことで傷ついたのよ、ずいぶん」と彼女は小さな声で言った。「それでいろいろあって結局東京のホテルも辞めちゃったの。傷ついたの。辛かったし。私ってある種のことが上手く人並みに処理できないの」

「うん」と僕は言った。

「今でもまだ傷ついている。そのこと考えると今でも時々ふっと死んでしまいたくなる」

彼女はまた指輪を外して、またもとに戻した。それからブラディー・マリーを飲み、眼鏡をいじった。そしてにっこりと笑った。

僕らはけっこう酒を飲んでいた。 (83-84)

In translation:

“Shoveling snow,” she said.

“Shoveling cultural snow,” I said.

Then she wanted to know about my divorce.

“It wasn’t like I got divorced because I wanted to. One day she just up and left, with another guy.”

“Were you hurt?”

“Wouldn’t anyone feel pretty hurt in that position if they were a normal person?”

She put her chin on the table and looked me in the eyes. “I’m sorry. That was a strange way to ask. I just had trouble imagining how *you* hurt. What’s *your* pain like? What do you get like when you hurt?”

“I put a Keith Haring button on my coat.”

She laughed. “That’s it?”

“What I’m trying to say,” I said, “Is that it happens constantly. Everything gets caught up in the day to day and it’s impossible to tell what’s painful and what isn’t. But it’s in there. That’s what pain is. I can’t pull it out and say, ‘Voilà, here it is.’ Anything I could show you wouldn’t be all that painful.”

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“Yeah?”

“I might not look like it, but I’ve been hurt by a lot of things, really hurt,” she said in a soft voice. “A bunch of stuff happened and I ended up quitting the hotel in Tokyo. That hurt. It was tough. There are certain things that I’m just not able to process like other people.”

“Hmm,” I said.

“It still hurts. Even now when I think about those things sometimes I suddenly just want to die.”

She took off her ring again and again put it back on. Then she took a sip of her Bloody Mary and fidgeted her glasses. Finally she broke a smile.

We had a lot to drink.

Another interesting cut. I think this section goes mostly just because it can go. There’s nothing vital, but the discussion about pain/what it means to hurt is well penned, and it is interesting to see the beginning of the deeper connection between the two that Boku remarks upon in the next section as they drunkenly make their way into a taxi and on the way to her apartment. (“Maybe we really did have something in common, the two of us.” 50) And as they do, Boku gets the name of the magazine that ran an article about the suspicious history of the Dolphin Hotel (the alleged plot purpose for Yumiyoshi’s involvement).

Boku thinks about how he could probably sleep with Yumiyoshi, about what it means that he could probably sleep with her, she makes an excuse and says she lives with her sister, but then she reveals that to be false when he accompanies her to the door. Birnbaum creates a nice space break by turning Murakami’s dialogue into more witty repartee:

“It’s not true. Really, I live alone.”

“I know,” I said.

“A slow blush came over her. “How could you know?”

“Can’t say why, I just did,” I said.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”(51)

Space break, cut to the taxi driver waiting for Boku.

The Japanese reveals this to be the most questionable cut of the chapter:

「どうしてだろう?ただわかるんだよ」と僕は言った。

「あなたって嫌な人ね」と彼女は静かに言った。

「そうだな、そうかもしれない」と僕は言った。「でも最初に断ったように人の嫌がることはしないよ。何かにつけこんだりもしない。だから何も嘘なんかつくことはなかったんだ」

彼女はしばらく迷っていたが、やがてあきらめたように笑った。「そうね。嘘なんかつくことなかったのね」

「でも」と僕は言った。

「でも、とても自然についちゃったの。私も私なりに傷ついたのよ。さっきも言ったように。いろんなことがあって」

「僕だって傷ついている。キース・ヘリングのバッジだって胸につけてる」

彼女は笑った。「ねえ、少し中に入ってお茶でも飲んでいく?もう少しあなたと話がしたいわ」

僕は首を振った。「有り難う。僕も君と話がしたい。でも今日は帰るよ。どしてかはわからないけど、今日は帰った方がいいと思う。君と僕は一度にあまり沢山のことを話さない方がいいような気がする。どうしてだろう?」

彼女は看板の細かい字を読む時のような目つきでじっと僕を見ていた。

「うまく説明できない。でもそういう気がする」と僕は言った。「話すことが沢山ある時は少しずつ話すのがいちばんいいんだ。そう思う。あるいは間違っているかもしれないけれど」

彼女は僕の言ったことについて少し考えていた。それから考えるのをあきらめた。「おやすみなさい」と言って彼女は静かにドアを閉めた。

「ねえ」と僕は声をかけてみた。ドアが十五センチほど開いて、彼女が顔を見せた。「また近いうちに君を誘ってみていいかな」と僕は聞いてみた。

彼女はドアに手をかけたまま深くいきを吸いこんだ。「たぶん」と彼女は言った。そしてまたドアが閉まった。 (87-88)

In translation:

“I dunno why. I just do,” I said.

“You are a bastard,” she said quietly.

“Yeah, maybe so,” I said. “But I don’t hate women who say no, and I never take advantage of anyone. So there was nothing for you to lie about.”

She was confused for a moment but eventually smiled, like she’d given up. “Yeah. I didn’t have to lie.”

“*But*,” I said.

“But it just came out. I hurt like I hurt, as I mentioned earlier. Things happened.”

“I hurt too. I’ve got a Keith Haring button on my chest.”

She laughed. “Why don’t you come in for a cup of tea? I want to talk more.”

I shook my head. “Thanks. I’d like to talk as well, but tonight I’ll go back. I dunno why, but I think it’s best for me to go back tonight. I just feel like it’s best that you and I don’t say too much all at once. Wonder why that is?”

She stared at me with her eyes squinted like she was trying to read the find print on a sign.

“I can’t explain it. That’s just how I feel,” I said. “It’s always best to say things a little at a time when you’ve got a lot of things to talk about. That’s what I think. But I might be wrong.”

She thought about what I said for a second. Then she gave up thinking. “Good night,” she said and quietly closed the door.

“Hey,” I called out. The door opened a few inches, and she stuck her face out. “Is it alright if I ask you out again sometime soon?” I asked.

She took in a deep breath with her hand still on the door. “Maybe,” she said. Then the door shut again.

Whew. What a cut. This one makes more sense. Birnbaum’s decision to cut this section keeps Boku a more suspicious character, and cutting it doesn’t force him to alter the narrative elsewhere in the chapter. The original Japanese breaks the tension by letting us see exactly how nice a guy this Boku character actually is. Yet he refuses the offer and doesn’t press his luck, a true gentleman, now in search of the true answer to his existential dissatisfaction. This does make sense in the order of the Murakami canon; Boku is all growns up.

Gerry Mulligan

With the goal of stirring up even more interest in Murakami between now and mid-October, when the Nobel Prizes are announced, I will post a small piece of Murakami translation once a week from now until the announcement. You can see the other entries in this year’s series here: Jurassic Sapporo.

Gerry Mulligan after he let his crew cut grow out. (From Wikipedia.) 

Thanks to Sgt. Tanuki, last week I discovered that I’ve been reading an edited version of Dance Dance Dance. His blog post about the novel details the long sections of Chapters 1 and 2 that were abridged in translation. As I mentioned in the post last week, it sounds awfully similar to some of the writing from “The Twins and the Sunken Continent,” and it also makes the section from last week make more sense because it establishes the “I’m from a different planet” theme earlier. I’m eager to check it out – finding old copies of DDD will be one of my projects the next time I’m in Japan.

What this means is that Murakami must have gone through the text in 1991 when he was compiling his Complete Works, compared his old version with Birnbaum’s translation (or at least noted which sections had been cut), and made some of the identical cuts himself. While the cuts make this year’s Murakami Fest not nearly as exciting as it could be (if I had the original text), it does mean that we learn something about Murakami’s choices – these are cuts that Murakami decided to keep despite their absence in the English translation.

So I think it’s telling that Murakami would keep a short aside about jazz saxophonist Gerry Mulligan.

In Chapter 7, Boku has asked the Dolphin Hotel receptionist out, and they meet at a basement bar a short cab ride away from the hotel. Here’s the section when Boku arrives:

I was met at the door with the warm sound of an old Gerry Mulligan Record.

I took a seat at the counter and listened to the solo over a nice, easy J&B-and-water. (38-39)

The Japanese, however, is slightly more extensive:

ドアを開けると程よい音量でジェリー・マリガンの古いレコードがかかっていた。マリガンがまだクルー・カットで、ボタンダウン・シャツを着てチェット・ベイカーとかボブ・ブルクマイヤーが入っていた頃のバンド。昔よく聴いた。アダム・アントなんていうのが出てくる前の時代の話だ。

アダム・アント

なんていう下らない名前をつけるんだろう。

僕はカウンターに座って、ジェリー・マリガンの品の良いソロを聴きながら、J&Bの水割りを時間をかけてゆっくりと飲んだ。(68)

Here’s my version:

I opened the door to an old Gerry Mulligan record playing at a pleasant volume. A record from back when Mulligan still had a crew cut and wore button-down shirts, back when Chet Baker and Bob Brookmeyer were in his band. I listened to it a lot a long time ago. Back in an era before someone like Adam Ant came on the scene.

Adam Ant.

Who would give themselves such a terrible name?

I sat at the counter and slowly enjoyed a J&B-and-water as I listened to the high quality solos of Gerry Mulligan.

This seems like an easy cut to make, and I imagine that Birnbaum made it because the Ant reference would soon be dated (if it wasn’t already?) and not because there’s anything wrong with Gerry Mulligan. It doesn’t surprise me that Murakami wanted to keep it; I do like that image of Mulligan in a crew cut and button-down shirt. (I wanted to use this photo in the post, but it’s not Creative Commons friendly.) It does, however, reek of old man frustration with change, and I guess that’s kind of what this book is about to a certain extent.

On a language note, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the tone and implications of なんていう下らない名前をつけるんだろう, so I may have translated a little freely. What do y’all think? Any suggestions?

So yeah, that’s all I’ve got, really…unless…what? You ARE interested in hearing an extended ramble about Gerry Mulligan? Awesome!

Gerry Mulligan is the greatest and most famous baritone saxophonist. NPR has an excellent profile of him in the Jazz Profiles series. (Also worth listening to are the two two-part Duke Ellington profiles, the Count Basie profile, and the Nat King Cole profile among others, if that’s your kind of thing.) If you haven’t listened to his music before, I recommend starting with some of the “Mulligan Meets” series. Mulligan Meets Monk, Mulligan Meets Ben Webster, and Mulligan Meets Johnny Hodges are all top notch; easily accessible jazz that also makes great writing music because it isn’t too “hot” or complicated.

My favorite album, however, is “Something Borrowed, Something Blue,” which I’ve discovered is only available on LP…strange since I only have a digital copy of it. My guess is some jazz maniac uploaded it to teh torrentz site where I found it. If you can track this record down, I would highly recommend doing so. Mulligan plays alto, apparently, and the album starts with a superlative version of Bix Beiderbecke’s “Davenport Blues.” If I was stuck on a desert island with only one album, this might be the one I would take.

Table Talk in The Threepenny Review Fall 2012

I have a piece of writing in the latest issue of The Threepenny Review, a Berkeley-based literary magazine. It’s a short, untitled nonfiction piece in the “Table Talk” section of the magazine, which in the past has featured Roberto Bolaño and Orhan Pamuk among others – pretty cool. It feels similar to “Talk of the Town” in the New Yorker.

I don’t think the writing style of the piece is all that different from some of the writing I do here, to be honest; there’s definitely less Japanese, but it’s still about Japan. Here’s a preview of the first paragraph as proof:

One Saturday in February 2006, I decided to go on a drive in search of cheap mikan. I’d stayed in to recover from a cold the night before and spent the morning cleaning my apartment and hanging my laundry from the curtain brackets. Outside the weather was remarkable. After a gray, blustery January during which we had several meters of snow, the sky was bright blue and clear, and the sun was strong enough to dry the roads. It was still too cold to hang clothes outside, and icy walls of snow padded the sides of the highways, but after spending over a week exclusively in my town—the small town of Nishiaizu, Fukushima Prefecture, where I was teaching English at elementary and junior high school—I was getting a little stir crazy, and cheap citrus fruit seemed to be a good excuse to get out of the house.

You can buy a copy online here or a digital copy (I think) here. If they ask, let ‘em know I sent you!

Murakami scholars might recognize the 3P editor Wendy Lesser as the author of the 2002 article “The Mysteries of Translation,” which compared Birnbaum and Rubin’s translation of “The Wind-up Bird and Tuesday’s Women” (a longer sneak preview of which is available here). 3P also reviewed 1Q84 this summer, but I felt that the author tried a little too hard to find the foreignness of Murakami, defining it as a “blandness” that needs to be appreciated. This 2001 look at his oeuvre in general is more on target.