Perhaps this is a somewhat unusual subject for LessWrong, but hopefully it's of some interest, if only as a case study of what we lose through translation. "Palm of the Hand stories" refer to short stories written by Kawabata between 1923 and 1972. This is a review of a collection of such stories, translated by Lane Dunlop and J. Martin Holman (JMH).
[Very mild spoiler for Love Suicides, The Grasshopper and the Bell Cricket]
These are some of the best 1-2 page short stories I've ever read. Unfortunately, I suspect the writing loses some luster through translation.
The first part of my review focuses on some of the greatest moments in the collection. The second part focuses on a particular piece, Water (1944), which I have went through the pain of retranslating. I hope that this will both show Kawabata's brilliance, as well as illustrate my annoyance with the translation.
I do not wish to be too harsh. Translation is hard work, and Dunlop and JMH know much more about it than myself. A critic's job is easy, a craftsman's is hard. Moreover, although it is frustrating to see precision lost in the process, the translated work is still brilliant for the reader early in her studies of Kawabata's language.
Kawabata's Craft
First, I want to share what I find so special about Kawabata's stories. Some of my favorites from this collection are: The Girl Who Approached the Fire (1924), The Grasshopper and the Bell Cricket (1924), Canaries (1924), Love Suicides (1926), and Water (1944).
Kawabata is hauntingly vivid but never gratuitous. In Love Suicides, we witness a suicide. A few brief paragraphs before the suicide, we see a visceral, emotional sequence. I quote from the translated copy: "The woman tossed the small dinner table into the garden. What about this sound? She threw her whole body against the wall and pounded with her firsts. She flung herself at the paper partition like a spear and tumbled out on the other side. And what about this sound?[paragraph]'Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!'[paragraph]The girl ran toward her, crying, and the woman slapped her. Oh, listen to this sound!" The actual suicide, though, is described without drama. "They ceased eternally to make even the faintest sound."
Kawabata's pacing is beautifully precise. The Grasshopper and the Bell Cricket, a longer story, ends on a meditation that might seem overdramatic without the three pages of setting, action, and dialogue before it. The reader, through the narrator's eyes, sees for three pages a scene that may be remembered by its participants for years. Only then, does the author reveal to the reader a subtle little detail only for us. A page later, as the author meditates on the discovery and the reader perhaps feels some impulse to share it with the characters, the story ends: "I will think it a pity that you [(the character)] [will] have no way to remember tonight's play of light [...]."
Finally, imagery and language are deeply intertwined. Kawabata is a master of both, even filtered through imperfect translation. The core of The Girl Who Approached the Fire is exactly two lines of dialogue, which I will not reproduce here. The two lines, spoken to and by a girl walking toward raging flames, have continued haunting me weeks after my first reading. Kawabata's skillfulness in this domain is particularly demonstrated by Water (1944), which we will discuss below. Unfortunately, as you will see, Water loses a lot of color from a rushed translation job.
Water and Mistranslation
Water describes a newly-wed wife who, to unite with her husband, moves from the temperate and water-rich Japanese homeland to a cold, austere Manchuria. I found JMH's translation of this work lacking in some of the most beautiful scenes. However, my primary purpose here is to highlight Kawabata's craft. I will provide two of Kawabata's best moments in this story, and where I take issue with JMH's translation, I will note.
JMH's translation: "What surprised the woman most was that it cost seven sen for one oilcan full of water—cloudy, dirty water. [my note: this is unnecessary transposal, surprise came after purchase in the original. the emdash replaces a period in the original, which I think works better.] She felt queasy just thinking that she was to use this water to rinse her mouth or wash rice [my note: this is transposal, original text has her thinking first.]. Within six months [my note: minor but original text says 半年 i.e. half year], the [my note: JMH gratuitously drops "white" here for seemingly no reason] sheets and underwear had all turned yellow."
My translation: "Here, the wife purchased an oilcan of water for seven sen. She was most astonished then. Murky, dirty water. Thinking about using this water to rinse her mouth or wash rice made her nauseous [lit. my chest turned ill / I turned ill in my chest]. Within half a year, her white sheets and undergarments all turned yellow."
Context: This is dialogue. A character is describing her impatience for Spring.
JMH's translation: "I can't wait until spring when I can slosh my laundry around as much as I like. How good it would feel if I could just splash some water."
My own translation here is somewhat lacking (with an unnecessary transpose) and needs editing, so I will not provide it. Instead, I highlight a few problems I find with JMH's translation and the beauty of the source text. Primarily, my contention focuses on the translation of onomatopoeia.
First, a minor point. "じゃぶじゃぶお洗濯して" -> じゃぶじゃぶ is an onomatopoeia, and sounds like "jab jab". The repetition is notable here. While Japanese usage of onomatopoeia is widespread and more common than in English, I think it is still important to convey real emotionality. "Slosh" does not quite have the same effect. Using a more noticeable English onomotopeia, perhaps one that also incorporates repetition, might be the better choice. I might pick "splish splash", which is also not without faults.
Now, the bigger point. "このお水を、ざあと流したら、どんなに気持がいいでしょう" translates into, lexically, "This water, pouring it all out like zaaa (with a "zaa" sound), how wonderful that must feel!" If I was a lawmaker, translating this dreamy, longing Japanese into JMH's matter-of-factly "How good it would feel if I could just splash some water." would be a felony. I hope you can hear the rhythmic yearning of the woman far from home: 6 syllables, 7 syllables, then 10 syllables to close out. You can see her eyes light up as she imagines it: Pouring out the water like "zaa"! In my English, I tried my best with "one big gush."
There are a couple other points in Water where I think our translator could've done a better job. As for demonstrating Kawabata's devastating mastery, there is not a word in the original Japanese that does not do so. In any case, I encourage you to read JMH's translation with the knowledge that some power has been lost, and I more strongly encourage you to read it in its majestic original Japanese. As for my own translation, it will be, God willing, out soon.
Conclusion
Please read this anthology. Read the stories in their original Japanese if you can. If you cannot, then read this version. Since my English is far, far superior to my Japanese, I am reading both. I am grateful to Dunlop and JMH for helping me discover this collection, and I am more grateful to Kawabata for creating such a collection of gems.
Perhaps this is a somewhat unusual subject for LessWrong, but hopefully it's of some interest, if only as a case study of what we lose through translation. "Palm of the Hand stories" refer to short stories written by Kawabata between 1923 and 1972. This is a review of a collection of such stories, translated by Lane Dunlop and J. Martin Holman (JMH).
[Very mild spoiler for Love Suicides, The Grasshopper and the Bell Cricket]
These are some of the best 1-2 page short stories I've ever read. Unfortunately, I suspect the writing loses some luster through translation.
The first part of my review focuses on some of the greatest moments in the collection. The second part focuses on a particular piece, Water (1944), which I have went through the pain of retranslating. I hope that this will both show Kawabata's brilliance, as well as illustrate my annoyance with the translation.
I do not wish to be too harsh. Translation is hard work, and Dunlop and JMH know much more about it than myself. A critic's job is easy, a craftsman's is hard. Moreover, although it is frustrating to see precision lost in the process, the translated work is still brilliant for the reader early in her studies of Kawabata's language.
Kawabata's Craft
First, I want to share what I find so special about Kawabata's stories. Some of my favorites from this collection are: The Girl Who Approached the Fire (1924), The Grasshopper and the Bell Cricket (1924), Canaries (1924), Love Suicides (1926), and Water (1944).
Kawabata is hauntingly vivid but never gratuitous. In Love Suicides, we witness a suicide. A few brief paragraphs before the suicide, we see a visceral, emotional sequence. I quote from the translated copy: "The woman tossed the small dinner table into the garden. What about this sound? She threw her whole body against the wall and pounded with her firsts. She flung herself at the paper partition like a spear and tumbled out on the other side. And what about this sound?[paragraph]'Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!'[paragraph]The girl ran toward her, crying, and the woman slapped her. Oh, listen to this sound!" The actual suicide, though, is described without drama. "They ceased eternally to make even the faintest sound."
Kawabata's pacing is beautifully precise. The Grasshopper and the Bell Cricket, a longer story, ends on a meditation that might seem overdramatic without the three pages of setting, action, and dialogue before it. The reader, through the narrator's eyes, sees for three pages a scene that may be remembered by its participants for years. Only then, does the author reveal to the reader a subtle little detail only for us. A page later, as the author meditates on the discovery and the reader perhaps feels some impulse to share it with the characters, the story ends: "I will think it a pity that you [(the character)] [will] have no way to remember tonight's play of light [...]."
Finally, imagery and language are deeply intertwined. Kawabata is a master of both, even filtered through imperfect translation. The core of The Girl Who Approached the Fire is exactly two lines of dialogue, which I will not reproduce here. The two lines, spoken to and by a girl walking toward raging flames, have continued haunting me weeks after my first reading. Kawabata's skillfulness in this domain is particularly demonstrated by Water (1944), which we will discuss below. Unfortunately, as you will see, Water loses a lot of color from a rushed translation job.
Water and Mistranslation
Water describes a newly-wed wife who, to unite with her husband, moves from the temperate and water-rich Japanese homeland to a cold, austere Manchuria. I found JMH's translation of this work lacking in some of the most beautiful scenes. However, my primary purpose here is to highlight Kawabata's craft. I will provide two of Kawabata's best moments in this story, and where I take issue with JMH's translation, I will note.
Source: “石油缶一ぱい七銭で水を買うのに、妻は一番驚いた。濁って汚い水だ。これで口を漱ぎ米も洗うのかと思うと、胸が悪かった。 それから半年の間に、白い敷布も肌着も黄色くなってしまった。”
JMH's translation: "What surprised the woman most was that it cost seven sen for one oilcan full of water—cloudy, dirty water. [my note: this is unnecessary transposal, surprise came after purchase in the original. the emdash replaces a period in the original, which I think works better.] She felt queasy just thinking that she was to use this water to rinse her mouth or wash rice [my note: this is transposal, original text has her thinking first.]. Within six months [my note: minor but original text says 半年 i.e. half year], the [my note: JMH gratuitously drops "white" here for seemingly no reason] sheets and underwear had all turned yellow."
My translation: "Here, the wife purchased an oilcan of water for seven sen. She was most astonished then. Murky, dirty water. Thinking about using this water to rinse her mouth or wash rice made her nauseous [lit. my chest turned ill / I turned ill in my chest]. Within half a year, her white sheets and undergarments all turned yellow."
Source: "早く春になって、思う存分じゃぶじゃぶお洗濯してみたいですね。このお水を、ざあと流したら、どんなに気持がいいでしょう。"
Context: This is dialogue. A character is describing her impatience for Spring.
JMH's translation: "I can't wait until spring when I can slosh my laundry around as much as I like. How good it would feel if I could just splash some water."
My own translation here is somewhat lacking (with an unnecessary transpose) and needs editing, so I will not provide it. Instead, I highlight a few problems I find with JMH's translation and the beauty of the source text. Primarily, my contention focuses on the translation of onomatopoeia.
First, a minor point. "じゃぶじゃぶお洗濯して" -> じゃぶじゃぶ is an onomatopoeia, and sounds like "jab jab". The repetition is notable here. While Japanese usage of onomatopoeia is widespread and more common than in English, I think it is still important to convey real emotionality. "Slosh" does not quite have the same effect. Using a more noticeable English onomotopeia, perhaps one that also incorporates repetition, might be the better choice. I might pick "splish splash", which is also not without faults.
Now, the bigger point. "このお水を、ざあと流したら、どんなに気持がいいでしょう" translates into, lexically, "This water, pouring it all out like zaaa (with a "zaa" sound), how wonderful that must feel!" If I was a lawmaker, translating this dreamy, longing Japanese into JMH's matter-of-factly "How good it would feel if I could just splash some water." would be a felony. I hope you can hear the rhythmic yearning of the woman far from home: 6 syllables, 7 syllables, then 10 syllables to close out. You can see her eyes light up as she imagines it: Pouring out the water like "zaa"! In my English, I tried my best with "one big gush."
There are a couple other points in Water where I think our translator could've done a better job. As for demonstrating Kawabata's devastating mastery, there is not a word in the original Japanese that does not do so. In any case, I encourage you to read JMH's translation with the knowledge that some power has been lost, and I more strongly encourage you to read it in its majestic original Japanese. As for my own translation, it will be, God willing, out soon.
Conclusion
Please read this anthology. Read the stories in their original Japanese if you can. If you cannot, then read this version. Since my English is far, far superior to my Japanese, I am reading both. I am grateful to Dunlop and JMH for helping me discover this collection, and I am more grateful to Kawabata for creating such a collection of gems.