Archive for the ‘The Translator’s Craft’ Category

How Takami Nieda Came to Translate GO

By Louise Heal Kawai, Tokyo

In June 2019, teacher and literary translator Takami Nieda gave a fascinating talk to SCBWI Japan on her translation of Kazuki Kaneshiro’s Go: A Coming-of-Age Novel. She has now followed this up with a wonderfully informative essay for TranNet.

This account of how she got started on her literary translation career is essential reading for those who wonder how to get into the field. I was moved by how she championed Go, a book she loved, and fought to get her translation funded and published; and also by how she manages to combine her career in translation with one in teaching. Her passion for both shines through. A highly recommended read.

Opening of Takami Nieda’s August 2019 essay for TranNet. Click to download full text in PDF.

Takami Nieda On Bringing GO into English

Takami Nieda (holding her translation of Go by Kazuki Kaneshiro) after speaking to SCBWI Japan on June 22.

By Andrew Wong, Tokyo

On June 22, 2019, translator Takami Nieda dropped by in person to share her seven-year journey of bringing Kazuki Kaneshiro’s young adult/adult novel Go to English-language readers. The evening began with the opening basketball sequence of an award-winning film based on Go. In this sequence, the term “zainichi” sets the tone for high-schooler Sugihara’s raw, roller-coaster story of love and life.

A third-generation Korean Japanese himself, Kaneshiro positioned Go to explain itself to its original intended readership, the Japanese. So there were few difficulties, Nieda noted, in providing background information—something a translator would often have to add. Nieda did point out some challenging terms she dealt with like oyaji, which she translated as “father” sometimes and as “old man” at other times; ofukuro, for which she chose “mother” over “mom”; and the rhythmical puzzle posed by a reworded version of Bruce Springsteen’s “Born in the USA.”

The novel’s short time span means Sugihara, a high school student, stays safely within the YA category as defined in the Anglosphere, but the gritty, edgy, often violent original is not considered a YA work in Japan. Coupled with the fact that a title like Go isn’t exactly easy to spot in the digital abyss, we appreciated that, by adding a subtitle to the English-language edition, publisher Amazon Crossing may have helped more readers of YA to find the book. (The book now sells in English as Go: A Coming-of-Age Novel.)

Nieda shared some of Go’s reader figures, which demonstrate its broad appeal: readers above 25 are spread over several age categories. However, while digital downloads have been strong, the title has lacked presence in English-language bookstores. So Nieda went on to talk about other roads for Go to travel, including as a text for studying the relationship between Korea and Japan. (It has won a Freeman Award for Young Adult/High School Literature and also has clear uses in university classrooms.)

There were concerns over the weight of some violent sequences, but those were assuaged by the idea that some sequences could actually be perceived as physical manifestations of affection.

Very early on, Nieda quoted Chimamanda Adichie to remind us of the danger of a single story, and on closing she again drove home the need for stories from diverse perspectives. Certainly an inspiring message for creators of children’s works in SCBWI Japan!

An additional write-up of this event by writer Cam Sato appears at the SCBWI Japan main blog.

One Passage, Nine Translations—Mieko Kawakami

By Avery Fischer Udagawa, Bangkok

At SCBWI Japan Translation Day 2018 on October 20, Louise Heal Kawai critiqued participants’ translations of a passage in Ichigo jamu kara ichigo kara hikeba (Strawberry Jam Without the Strawberries) by Mieko Kawakami, from the volume Akogare (Longing). As yet unpublished in English, Ichigo jamu features the same characters as Ms. Ice Sandwich, translated by Kawai. It takes place two years later, when the main characters are in sixth grade. It unfolds from the perspective of Tutti, the narrator’s female classmate in Ms. Ice Sandwich.

In one part of the workshop passage, Tutti expresses disgust with adults who make silly YouTube videos, which are the obsession of another classmate in the stories, nicknamed Doo-Wop.

Below are the original passage by Kawakami; eight blinded translations by participants in Translation Day; and a translation and commentary by Louise Heal Kawai.

For reference, Tutti is Kawai’s localization of a punny nickname, Hegatī, based on an incident in which the character’s fart smelled like tea.

 

Original Passage

大人にもいろいろな人がいるんだろうけれど、そんな大人ってちょっと、いや、だいぶいやじゃない? そう話したら、ヘガティーはわかってないね、今この人たちがいちばんすごいんだよ、とドゥワップは鼻をふくらませて言うのだった。

いちばんっていったいどこのいちばんなの、何のいちばんなの、すごいっていったいどういう意味で、というわたしの質問には答えずに、ドゥワップはすごくうれしそうに話をつづけた。僕らみたいな小学生とか子どもとかが毎日毎日こうやってみてるじゃん、すっごいみるじゃん、で、僕らがみればみるだけ、この人たちにいっぱいお金がいく仕組みになってるの。それは本当なの? 本当だよ。その大人にどれくらいお金が入るの。そりゃもう、すごいお金だよ、やばい感じだよ。うそ。本当だよ。じゃあコーラ風呂とかそういうのみるたびにドゥワップはお金払ってるの? 僕はべつに払ってないよ。じゃあ誰がそのやばいくらいのお金払うの。それは、その、わからないけど、誰かだよ。

[Source: Akogare by Mieko Kawakami (Shinchosha, 2015). ISBN-13: 978-4103256243]

 

Translation A

I’m sure there are all kinds of grownups, but don’t you kinda—no, don’t you really hate that kind? When I said that to Doo-Wop he got all snooty and said, You just don’t get it, huh, Hegarty? These guys are the absolute coolest right now.

“Absolute”? Of what? What kind of absolute? And what does “coolest” mean? But Doo-Wop didn’t answer my questions; he just happily chattered on. Elementary-schoolers like us—kids, I mean—are watching every day—like a ton! And just by us watching, these guys make loads of money. Is that true? Yeah. How much money do they make? Oh man, so much. It’s crazy. No way. It’s true. So do you pay every time you watch that soda bath video or whatever? Nope, I don’t pay. So who pays that crazy amount of money? Well, I’m not sure, but someone.

Then computer time started as usual.

 

Translation B

I mean, I know there are various grownups in the world, but aren’t these people a little (actually, extremely) awful? When I suggested this to Doowop, his nostrils flared as he said, “Hegarty, you just don’t get it. These grownups are the most amazing ones.”

The most amazing? In what world are they the most amazing?! Amazing at what? What do you mean by “amazing?” Ignoring my barrage of questions, Doowop happily continued on. “So elementary school students like us, and other kids everywhere, are watching this stuff every day. I mean, we watch it a lot. And the more we watch, the more money these people make. That’s how the system works.” Really? “Yep, really.” Exactly how much do these grownups make? “They make tons of money. It’s almost scary!” No way. “Yep, it’s true.” So, you pay money each time you watch a cola-filled bathtub? “No, I’m not paying any money.” Then who is paying these scary amounts of money? “Well, that’s, um, I’m not sure. But somebody is paying.”

And so, computer class began again, as it always does.

 

Translation C

Adults come in all sorts too, but isn’t that kind of adult a bit, no, a lot, weird? But when I say that, Doo-wop flares his nostrils in disgust and retorts ‘Tutti, you don’t get it, these people are so great, they’re the best’.

Doo-wop ignored me asking about them being the best of what and of where, and what makes them so great, and just kept talking excitedly.

Loads of primary school kids like us watch them every day, you know, we watch them a lot, and the more we watch, the more money these people get.

Is that true?

Yeah, it’s true.

How much do those adults get?

It’s, you know, a lot. Like a serious amount.

No way.

Yes way.

So like every time you watch that bath full of cola, you pay money?

I don’t pay anything.

So who is paying all that money?

It’s, that’s, I don’t know, but someone does.

 

And with that, computer class starts the same way as always.

 

Translation D

There are probably some strange adults, but these ones are not just strange – they are way too weird. When I said that, Duwap snorted, “You don’t know anything do you, Hegaty. These people are the tops today. They’re amazing!”

What do you mean by tops? What are these people tops at? What’s so amazing?

Duwap didn’t answer my questions. He just kept on talking, excited.

We primary schoolers and other kids watch these videos every day, right? We just watch so much, right? Now here’s how it works – the more we watch, the more money these people get! Really? Yeah! How much do these adults get? Huge, huge amounts! It’s crazy! No way. It’s true! Do you pay when you watch coke bath videos? No, not me. I don’t pay. So, who’s paying this crazy amount of money? Well, I don’t know, but it’s gotta be someone.

And so, the PC lesson would start as it always did.

 

Translation E

I know there are all kinds of adults but an adult like that is not okay, right?

When you say the best, what kind of best, what sort of best, what does amazing mean—Doo-wop didn’t answer my questions, but just kept talking on and on happily. So, there are lots of children, school kids like us, doing this every day, which is crazy, because just us watching means those people get lots of money, right? How much do they get? Well, a lot—a ton of money. You’re kidding, I said. It’s true, he said. So then, do you pay for your cola baths and video binges? I asked. I’m not the one paying. Then who’s paying for all that? I’m not sure, he said, but someone is.

And so our computer activity class begins again.

 

Translation F

Adults surely come in a wide array, but the ones who’d make these videos are sort of weird, don’t you think? No—really weird! When I said so to Doo-Wop, he just flared his nostrils and said, “Ah, Tutti, you don’t get it, do you? These days, they are the cool ones!”

“Cooler where? How? What does cool even mean?” I asked, but without answering, Doo-Wop kept chatting gaily. “See, children and students like us are watching these vids day in and day out, right? Isn’t that amazing, if you think about it? And, the more we watch, the more money the people who make the videos get. That’s how it works.” “Really?” “Really.” “How much do they get?” “A ton, more than you can imagine.” “No way.” “It’s true!” “So, every time you view the cola bathtub video, are you paying money?” “Nah, I’m not paying anything.” “So who’s paying the ton of money?” “I don’t know, but someone is.”

And thus, a typical computer class began.

 

Translation G

I get that there’s all kinds of grown-ups out there, but aren’t people like that kinda…lame? Kinda really lame?

But when I said that to Doowop, he just scrunched up his nose at me.

“You don’t get it, Hegarty,” he said. “These guys are geniuses.”

“Geniuses at what? What do they even do?”

Doowop didn’t answer my question. He just kept on talking with a huge smile on his face.

“See, loads of grade schoolers and kids like us watch their videos every day, right? And it’s set up so they get money from us watching them.”

“For real?”

“Yeah, for real.”

“How much money do they make?”

“They get rich. Like, CRAZY rich.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“So does that mean you’re paying every time you see them take a bath in a tub full of soda or something?”

“Nah, I’m not paying them.”

“Then who is?”

“Beats me… But someone’s gotta be.”

And so started another average day of computer lab.

 

Translation H

Of course, there are all kinds of adults, but isn’t that type a bit – no, well-and-truly – off? When I said that to him, Doo-Wop just replied with, “you wouldn’t understand, Hegarty”, and infuriated me by saying these people are the best.

He just ignored all my questions – “What was so great about them? What did he mean by ‘great’ anyway?” – and happily kept rabbiting on about them.

“If primary school kids like us keep watching these things day after day, hour after hour, well, the more money these adults get from us.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“How much do they make?”

“Heaps. It’s outrageous.”

“No way.”

“True. So when you watch videos like the cola bath, aren’t you paying them, Doo-Wop?”

“I haven’t paid anything.”

“So, who pays them all that money then?”

“No idea, but someone must.”

Then computer time began as usual.

 

Translation by Louise Heal Kawai

I mean I guess there are all kinds of grown-ups in the world, but don’t you find these kind of people a bit gross, don’t they freak you out? When I said this to Doo-Wop, he snorted.

“You don’t understand anything, Tutti. These are the top people, the coolest.”

The top? Top of what? And how were they cool? But Doo-Wop didn’t bother answering my questions, just kept on talking, all excited.

“Every single day, kids like us watch their videos, and every time someone watches them, there’s like a thing set up that gives them loads of money.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“How much money do these grown-ups get?”

“Tons. Tons and tons of money. Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“No!”

“I swear.”

“So you – Doo-Wop – give them money every time they get in a cola bath or stuff like that?”

“Well, no, I’m not paying anything.”

“So who’s giving them this tons of money?”

“Well…. I dunno exactly, but someone is.”

And so computer class began the same way as usual.

 

Comments by Louise Heal Kawai

“I was rather freer with my translation of the first part of this section than any of the participants. Perhaps it was because I knew my translation wasn’t going to be analyzed in a workshop (!) but in general I feel taking a few liberties as long as the meaning is not lost is something to be encouraged rather than discouraged. And I do believe that ‘a bit gross’ moving on to ‘freak you out’ is very much in the spirit of the original. I also cut a bit of Doo-Wop’s exaggeration of how much kids watched the videos, as it sounded too repetitive and I felt took away from the ‘tons of money’ speech later.

“As for the second half dialogue, I think breaking it up line by line makes it clearer, but the use of italics versus regular font also works nicely and avoids the crowded look of quotation marks or he said/she said in the run-on text.

“Although at times the vocabulary and grammar choice seemed a little mature for a twelve-year-old, in general I loved the variety of phrases used by the participants to bring these kids’ speech to life.

“Thank you to the eight brave participants who took the time to submit a translation, and to everyone who attended the workshop.”

Louise Heal Kawai leads the workshop at SCBWI Japan Translation Day 2018.

When Translating Japanese Children’s Literature Helps You Meet Ruth Stiles Gannett

Dover Publications edition of My Father’s Dragon

Every once in a while, being a translator of Japanese children’s books puts you in the best place to learn about children’s books of another country. Such was the case when Deborah Iwabuchi agreed to translate the only biography (in Japanese) of Ruth Stiles Gannett, author of My Father’s Dragonand assist Ms. Gannett on her summer 2018 visit to Japan.

By Deborah Iwabuchi, Maebashi, Japan

First of all, a little background for how this came about! In 2010, Ruth Stiles Gannett came to Japan at the invitation of a Japanese newspaper. The well-known author, aged 87 at the time, captured the heart of Akie Maezawa, the interpreter assigned to accompany Ms. Gannett on school visits. Maezawa subsequently made a trip to Ithaca, New York, to visit and talk to Ms. Gannett.

The result was the only book-length biography of the author of the Elmer books, The Woman who Wrote My Father’s Dragon, Ruth S. Gannett (published in Japanese by Fukuinkan Shoten).

I met Maezawa—let’s call her Aki, as Ms. Gannett does—when she attended an SCBWI Japan Translation Day 2016 in search of a translator for her book, which has been well-received by Elmer fans in Japan.

The Japanese biography of Ruth Stiles Gannett, written by Akie Maezawa, published by Fukuinkan Shoten

One look at the cover, with a photo of a smiling Ruth Gannett holding a huge stuffed Boris doll surrounded by a sunny background of white and yellow stripes, and I was sold! (That’s another story, and yes we are looking for a publisher.) Meanwhile, Aki became involved with Puk, a Japanese puppet theater company. Puk was planning a production of My Father’s Dragon and was facing various problems with copyrights. Aki became their point person to garner support from the author of the book. After the production got the go-ahead, the people at Puk decided they wanted more than anything to have Ruth Gannett in Japan to see it. The author, 94, had recently had an accident that left her bedridden, but in typical style, she miraculously recovered and, accompanied by two of her seven daughters, she made the trip to Japan.

Ms. Gannett and her daughters made it safely to Tokyo at the end of July 2018 and, among side trips to Hakone and other places, attended a Puk performance, much to the joy of the audience and cast. On August 4, a separate event took place at Kinokuniya Hall in Shinjuku: a panel discussion by four people closely connected to the Elmer books in Japan, followed by Q-and-A session with Ms. Gannett. To my great pleasure, Aki asked me to help interpret the event for the three guests of honor.

On the evening of August 4, Ms. Gannett and her lovely daughters, Louise Kahn and Margaret (Peggy) Crone, arrived wreathed in smiles and ready for the big evening. The looks on the audience members’ faces as we all entered the packed Kinokuniya Hall told the story of how much everyone loved the books: My Father’s Dragon, Elmer and the Dragon, and The Dragons of Blueland. Many families in the room had three generations present, eager to see a beloved author. Feeling like a celebrity myself, I settled with Ms. Gannett’s family in seats about halfway back in the hall, until it was time for Ms. Gannett to go onstage.

Above: Ms. Gannett, her daughters, and a cutout of Ms. Gannett backstage at Kinokuniya Hall.

The first half of the program was a panel discussion with Mr. Shibasaki, the director of the Puk production, Aki Maezawa, Tetsuta Watanabe—son of the late Shigeo Watanabe who translated the Elmer books—and Tomoko Shirota, a member of JBBY who has successfully used My Father’s Dragon for twenty-four years in library programs to get children reading. The initial talks by these four were delightfully full of episodes about Ruth Stiles Gannett, Elmer Elevator, the puppet production and children and adults who have read and loved the books over the years. I wish I had the room to include all the stories here.

Japanese edition of My Father’s Dragon, translated by Shigeo Watanabe, published by Fukuinkan Shoten

Since this is a translators’ blog, let me talk about Shigeo Watanabe, as described by his son Tetsuta, who traveled all the way from Australia to be with Ms. Gannett that evening. The elder Watanabe was a member of the ISUMI group: writers and translators who met regularly in the years following the end of World War II to discuss the direction in which they hoped to take children’s literature in Japan. Watanabe had first read My Father’s Dragon in 1952, just four years after its publication in the US. He and the ISUMI group eventually chose the book as one they wanted Japanese children to read. In Tetsuta’s words, “They were looking for a book Japanese would enjoy, but probably not write.” My Father’s Dragon was published in Japanese as “Elmer’s Adventure” (Erumaa no boken) in 1964.

Tetsuta, a small child at the time, recalls his father ruminating over aspects of the book—things that would warm the cockles of a translator—such as the relationship of the two wild boars who make appearances throughout the story. Were they siblings? Friends? A married couple? He had to know so he could decide the type of language to use. Inverting parts of words as the excitable Mouse did in the English proved to be an easy task as Japanese syllables are easy to play with. Once the book was out, Watanabe, a young man with a family to support, kept careful records of the number of copies My Father’s Dragon sold, comparing it to Rieko Nakagawa’s Iya-iya-en, a bestselling Japanese book, which came out at about the same time. (Note: It turns out that Nakagawa and her son, Kanta, are both huge Elmer fans! Shirota told the rapt audience how young Kanta had begged his mother to use her publishing contacts to rewrite the book with his name in it and title it Kanta’s Adventure. The little boy only gave up his tearful pleas when Nakagawa explained about copyrights.)

Above: Tetsuta Watanabe and Akie Maezawa pose backstage; Ms. Gannett signs her autograph.

Shigeo Watanabe went on to become a prominent translator of children’s books. I have never read his Japanese translation of Elmer, but I’m sure he deserves his share of the credit for how the books have stood the test of time and remained consistently popular in Japan for the past half-century—as well as for the excitement in Kinokuniya Hall on August 4.

The second part of the program that evening was devoted to Ruth Stiles Gannett. Frail, but elegant and sure, she took the stage flanked by her daughter Louise, who assisted her mother with some responses (the interpreter’s interpreter) and me (the plain old Japanese-to-English interpreter). Aki, who knows Ms. Gannett well, took the job of summarizing and interpreting the author’s responses into Japanese. Ms. Gannett’s English was easy to understand and the audience was perfectly silent as they hung on every word, and remained captivated as they listened to the Japanese that came afterwards. Here are a few of the questions.

Anniversary edition of the Elmer trilogy

Why did you decide to write the books? I had been working at a ski lodge, the snow had melted and I had nothing to do. My parents were busy with their work, so I got busy writing! I did it mainly to entertain myself. I never intended to publish it until someone suggested it.

Why did you choose a dragon for Elmer to save? I was writing a book about my father, and I wanted him to save a creature that was large, strong and unusual.

Why did the dragon have yellow stripes? I drew a different picture of the dragon, and the stripes were the choice of my stepmother, Ruth Chrisman Gannett, who did all the illustrations in the book.

Why did you choose for Elmer to eat tangerines (mikan)? When I was young we got tangerines in the toes of our Christmas stockings. They weren’t available much before the Christmas season. Fruit like that was a rare treat for us.

What do you do every day? Oh not much, I like to read, get exercise, do yoga, bake bread and cookies . . . (note: there was more, but I can’t remember it all!).

Ms. Gannett had a question of her own that she mentioned several times during the short time I was with her. I’ll put it out there and would love to hear from anyone who has ideas on the subject so I can let her know. In publishing My Father’s Dragon, she intended it for middle graders to read, but she has found that in Japan it is overwhelmingly read to preschoolers, and she wonders why that is.

The two hours sped quickly by. Just before the evening ended we were joined on stage by Peggy and the Puk cast as the entire hall sang “Happy Birthday” to Ms. Gannett, who will be 95 on August 12. “Don’t forget!” Aki reminded the audience, “Her name is Ruth. Make sure to get the ‘r’ and the ‘th!’”

IMG_2100

My selfie with Ruth Stiles Gannett. I worried that we would wear her out, but Ms. Gannett and her daughters were gracious and she had a beautiful smile for everyone! —D.I.

Global Literature in Libraries Initiative Features Japan, Including Children’s and YA Literature

By Andrew Wong, Tokyo

Looking for a strong dose of commentary on Japanese literary works online? Try the special Japan-in-Translation series at the Global Literature in Libraries Initiative (published throughout May 2018). Organized by David Jacobson, this series offered an entire month of blog posts spanning poetry and prose, manga, light novels, chapter books, picture books, fun with kanji, and onomatopoeia, plus reflections on publishing and reading translated works. Several members of SCBWI Japan contributed.

Here is the full list of posts in the series, including many on children’s literature:

Don’t Know What “Ippai Attena” Means? You Will.

By Emily Balistrieri, Tokyo

Rudorufu to Ippai Attena by Hiroshi Saito is a cute chapter book about a little black cat who finds himself lost in the big city, after inadvertently boarding a long-haul truck. He befriends a tough stray who knows a few tricks—including how to read human language. Can Rudolf use what he learns to find a way home?

Translated by Deborah Iwabuchi and Kazuko Enda as Rudolf and Ippai Attena, it’s put out in English by Kodansha in their Eigo Bunko line (which hardcore Haruki Murakami fans might be aware of, as it was the only way to read his first novel, Hear the Wind Sing, in English [translated by Alfred Birnbaum] until the 2015 version translated by Ted Goossen). Since Rudolf is a book published in Japan for young English learners, complete with a vocab list in the back, you might wonder how the translators approached it.

At a talk Iwabuchi and Enda gave recently in Tokyo, they said their goal was for English-speaking elementary-schoolers to be able to understand and relate to the story. As such, one of their focuses, besides navigating cultural things like torii and fish varieties, was making street-smart Ippai Attena sound like he could handle a fight without veering into words children shouldn’t use. Iwabuchi described English bad words as similar to Japanese keigo, in that there are various registers and situational uses. When she said this, I immediately thought of how kono yarō can operate on so many levels of English insults, from “Ya little booger” to “You bastard” (and surely beyond).

Speaking of “Ippai Attena,” though, if you’re wondering how this unconventional name made it through as-is, the main rationale was that the title is equally mysterious in Japanese (I won’t spoil what it means here). The translators do work an explanation into the text. While there may have been smoother options, the book’s very clear setting in Japan includes a few other references to the Japanese language, so the rōmaji doesn’t feel entirely misplaced.

As it turns out, the name joke was only one of many the translators had to cope with, including that most brutal pun, sake/salmon. And Ippai Attena’s trademark threat got an amusing localization to make it more evocative for English readers who may not know Doraemon.

Overall, the book’s themes of getting your education and using knowledge to accomplish your goals are good, but I especially like Ippai Attena’s nurturing side; for instance, where he says, “When you talk tough and sound nasty, your mind starts thinking it’s tough and that it’s acceptable to be mean,” I hope readers pause and consider the idea.

Are You an Echo? Showcased at Tokyo Event

By Deborah Iwabuchi, Maebashi Japan

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From left: Toshikado Hajiri, Michiko Tsuboi, and David Jacobson

On February 4, the illustrator, one of the translators, and the author of Are You an Echo? The Lost Poetry of Misuzu Kaneko spoke at an SCBWI Japan event in Tokyo.

Author David Jacobson (above right) began by telling how he was introduced to the works of Misuzu Kaneko (1903–1930), by friends who were Kaneko fans. He began to do research and work out a plan and funding for a book of her poetry.

The first order of business was finding a translator. The “translator” turned out to be an aunt-niece team: Michiko Tsuboi, based in Japan, and Sally Ito, an ethnic Japanese born and raised in Canada. Both of the women had already translated Kaneko poems for “fun,” according to Tsuboi. Jacobson found in these two women the enthusiasm for Kaneko’s work he felt was needed to translate her poetry. He also wanted a feminine interpretation of the “motherly” and “girlish” language Kaneko used in her poems.

Jacobson, Tsuboi and Ito first met in person when they, with illustrator Toshikado Hajiri, took a trip to Senzaki (now Nagato City) where Kaneko spent her life. Thus motivated to get on with the project, their real work began.

Tsuboi told us about the endless emails and Skype sessions she, Jacobson and Ito shared. From my point of view as a translator, one of the most interesting points was how Tsuboi and Ito were so involved in Jacobson’s narrative of Kaneko’s life. Tsuboi mentioned how shocked she was when her Canadian niece criticized Jacobson’s work at times, but seeing that the author was paying attention, she joined in with her own unvarnished opinions. In the end, all three of the group were credited for narrative and translation. In the process, the story of Kaneko’s life became the prominent feature of the book. But Jacobson was determined to include many of her poems.

are-you-an-echo-cover-1024x855Tsuboi said her role in translating the poetry was to convey the nuances of Japanese culture to her niece, and Ito’s job was to make the poetic interpretation. The two thought the simple poems would be easy to translate, but they ended up in endless arguments about wording and interpretation.

As a reader thoroughly enchanted by Are You an Echo? I enjoyed the back story about the trip to Senzaki, the arguments and critiques and endless rewriting. As a translator and writer, I was in awe of the dedication to the work and the ability of all involved to set their egos aside, to create a book that so eloquently honors the tragedy and unique sensitivity of a little known poet.

The event on February 4 continued with a showcase of works by SCBWI Japan members, including Ginny Tapley Takemori, translator of The Secret of the Blue Glass by Tomiko Inui.