Archive for the ‘Why We Translate for Children’ Category

A Conversation with Translator Takami Nieda

By Susan E. Jones, Kobe

Translator Takami Nieda is back with a new YA translation! At SCBWI Japan in 2019, she described the translation and publication process of Kazuki Kaneshiro’s GO (Amazon Crossing, 2018, Freeman Book Award winner). Here, she talks about her latest YA translation: Chesil’s The Color of the Sky is the Shape of the Heart (Soho Teen, 2022).

The source text『ジニのパズル』(Jini no pazuru / Ginny’s Puzzle) was nominated for an Akutagawa Prize in 2016 and stood out to Takami as one ripe for translation. Her depiction of Ginny, a conflicted Zainichi teen, lays bare the struggle many multicultural people experience.

Seventeen-year-old Ginny Park is about to get expelled from high school—again. Stephanie, the picture book author who took Ginny into her Oregon home after she was kicked out of school in Hawaii, isn’t upset; she only wants to know why. But Ginny has always been in-between. She can’t bring herself to open up to anyone about her past, or about what prompted her to flee her native Japan. Then, Ginny finds a mysterious scrawl among Stephanie’s scraps of paper and storybook drawings that changes everything: The sky is about to fall. Where do you go?

Ginny sets off on the road in search of an answer, with only her journal as a confidante. In witty and brutally honest vignettes, and interspersed with old letters from her expatriated family in North Korea, Ginny recounts her adolescence growing up Zainichi, an ethnic Korean born in Japan, and the incident that forced her to leave years prior.

Inspired by her own childhood, author Chesil creates a portrait of a girl who has been fighting alone against barriers of prejudice, nationality, and injustice all her life—and one searching for a place to belong. (Publisher’s synopsis.)

Susan: Given your translation of Kazuki Kaneshiro’s GO, Chesil’s The Color of the Sky is the Shape of the Heart, and your forthcoming Travelers of a Hundred Years (by Lee Hoesung) and Yubi no Hone (by Hiroki Takahashi), we are definitely starting to see a theme in the works you gravitate toward translating. Are you becoming something of a spokesperson for ethnic Koreans in Japan? Have you been noticed or recognized in that community for your work? Have you been called upon to explain their position at any venue in the US?

Takami Nieda

Takami: No, I haven’t, which is a good thing, as there are any number of scholars and ethnic Koreans who can speak to these issues more knowledgeably than I can. I am careful to point out that Zainichi is a term that comes with some controversy, and some might resist that category, which often conflates diverse Korean populations who identify not as Zainichi but as Korean Japanese or Japanese. For this reason, it’s important that they have the agency to decide how they choose to be identified. In the case of Chesil, she identifies as a third-generation Korean born in Japan, and I’ve not seen her refer to herself as Zainichi.

Susan: How smooth was the editing process of this translation? I am particularly interested in the fact that this was a novel marketed to adults in Japan and YA in English regions. Did you or the editor change the writing style to make it more appropriate for a teen reader? Did you know as you translated that it would likely be marketed for teens?

Takami: Soho Teen picked up the translation, so I did know going in that the book would be marketed as YA, but I wouldn’t say that I changed the writing style—maybe in a couple of places here and there. The novel wasn’t necessarily written as a YA but the prose is very clean and economical. I just translated the original text, which is juiced with this righteous indignation and energy and quite lyrical in parts, as it was. I might have had a couple of words like “bad apple,” which the editor pointed out as not age appropriate (or archaic). There was also a reference to Robert DeNiro, which the editor felt needed a little help for a younger reader to understand. Those small changes I’m willing to make, but it was important to retain Chesil’s voice and writing style.

Susan: I want to ask you a bit more about your decision (or your joint decision with Chesil) about gendered pronouns. How did you/she end up deciding on them? For example, on p. 7, “the wearer” of the dirty shoes is referred to as “he” and I wonder if that was specified in the Japanese source text.

Takami: There were several places where I thought there was an opportunity to reinforce a recurring theme in the novel by specifying gender. I thought that gendering the star, which Ginny has a conversation with, as “she” might suggest a bit of a sisterhood between them. Also, gendering the sky as “she” might suggest something about whose fall was being “caught” in the end. I asked Chesil what she thought about it, and she agreed to the first, but opted to keep the pronoun of the sky non-specific, so readers could make their own conclusions about the ending.

(The gender of “the wearer” wasn’t specified in the source text, but I went with “he,” but really by default.)

Chesil

Susan: You mentioned that it was a positive experience to get feedback from Chesil as you translated. Would you prefer to do all of your translations in coordination with the author in this way? Was it a totally positive experience, or were there times when your own idea conflicted with hers but you felt obligated to meet her request?

Takami: This is the first time I was able to consult the author, so it was very exciting. I don’t think Chesil got as many questions from her editor as she’d gotten from me, and she was incredibly patient to answer every last one of them. We communicated entirely over email, but it felt to me that Chesil really understood the translation was going to be its own thing apart from the source text and she was quite keen to learn through our collaboration herself. It’s truly a gift to be able to work with a writer who understands that about translation, and I don’t know if that will ever happen again. I hope so!

Susan: What was the most challenging part of translating this book? I imagine I would have struggled with romanizing the Korean names and making it clear that Ginny is Jinhee. Did you need to do much explicitation to bridge cultural gaps?

Takami: I tried to figure out the romanization on my own, then consulted Chesil to make sure that I’d gotten the names right. We also were lucky to have a copy editor who was knowledgeable in the Korean language and culture, so they pointed out one or two issues with regard to names. Thank goodness for copy editors!

It’s interesting that in GO, Kazuki Kaneshiro purposefully wrote the opening of the book as a way to educate Japanese readers about how the Korean population came to Japan during WWII and the complexities of their citizenship status, knowing that Japanese readers wouldn’t know anything about it. On the other hand, Chesil gave almost no explanation, assuming perhaps that enough people would know about them or that readers would do the research themselves. So, if it’s not in the original text, I try not to add too much expository explanation because that can often get unwieldly and oftentimes takes away from the moment the writer is trying to capture.

Increasingly, I find myself resisting adding anything too much to bridge cultural gaps. In many ways English readers need to get used to the idea that not everything is going to be explained to them or center their experiences and expectations. The writer has allowed them a window into their world, which can be an immense act of courage and generosity, so readers ought to be willing do some work on their own to understand a culture or history they’re not familiar with.

Susan: Do you do anything in particular to absorb current teen lingo to incorporate in your translation?

Takami: As a community college teacher, I’m lucky to be around lots of young people every day, which helps me maintain an ear for lingo. But because a lot of slang tends to be regional or niche, and certainly short lived, the most current lingo isn’t always the best choice in translation. I usually try to go with lingo that’s had some staying power and has been around for a while.

Susan: Was it your idea to change the book title in translation or the publisher’s? Though long, I like it better than “Ginny’s Puzzle” for an English-speaking audience.

Takami: The first editor Amara Hoshijo suggested the title because of the character Ginny’s explanation of the phrase Sorairo wa kokoromoyou in the book. Amara had also mentioned that longish titles were a thing in YA literature and was concerned that the original title might suggest a story aimed at a younger audience. Chesil liked the suggestion, so we went with that.

Jacket for The Color of the Sky is the Shape of the Heart (Soho Teen)

Susan: How has reception of this translation been so far? The theme of self-discovery and search for a place to fit in seem to be a universal struggle for teens (though Ginny obviously faces some extreme challenges). I imagine that this book would appeal to readers totally unfamiliar with Japan or ethnic Koreans in Japan.

Takami: Overall, the reception has been fantastic. Just as you’ve pointed out, many readers have noted the universal themes of identity and belonging, and have had their eyes opened to the ethnic Korean population in Japan. The novel packs a punch in a short 150+ pages, so I hope it will be taught in middle schools and high schools. I’d love to read some teen reviews of the novel as well!

Susan: This is perhaps a really insignificant question, but did you have any control over the fonts used in the hard copy version of the book? I quite liked the font used for handwriting and the chapter titles. (I missed this in the e-book!)

Takami: The typesetting was decided by the editing team and I’m rather fond of that font choice, too. You get the sense that you’re really reading Ginny’s handwritten journal entries as she tries to make sense of her past. I did request the Courier font for the screenplay scene between characters Yunmi and Jaehwan, because that’s the standard font for screenplays.

 

Takami Nieda reads from her work at the Sant Jordi USA Festival of Books, Roses, and the Arts.

Susan E. Jones, Associate Professor at Kobe College and longtime translator and teacher of translation, will serve as SCBWI Japan Translator Coordinator beginning in January 2023.

 

TOMO Anthology 10th Anniversary

By Avery Fischer Udagawa, Bangkok

“Nothing remained of the coastline or the train. We had no way of knowing what had happened to these lovely people who had fed us seafood so fresh it was still moving on the plate, who handed their own toast and hot coffee to my parents who were struggling through a Japanese-style breakfast.”

—Deborah Iwabuchi, translator, on revisiting an area of Tohoku she had explored with family before the 3/11 disaster

The editor, publisher, and contributors to Tomo: Friendship Through Fiction—An Anthology of Japan Teen Stories have shared messages on the 11th anniversary of 3/11 and the 10th anniversary of Tomo’s publication.

Tomo Anthology 10th Anniversary! Words from Contributors

The messages tell where life has taken those who shaped the anthology and its 36 stories. Many have continued connecting with Tohoku and bearing witness to the March 11, 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami. Proceeds from the sale of Tomo as an ebook continue to support the recovery efforts.

The “commitment was to create an anthology of short fiction that would help support teens in Tohoku in the challenging years ahead . . . a breathless volunteer sprint.”

—Holly Thompson, editor

“On a personal level, I have been sustained by stories at the worst of times. The Tomo anthology is an example of the best that we as writers and translators can do.”

—Suzanne Kamata, writer

“People who understand each other are inclined to help each other, and I’m sure the Tomo spirit will endure as many Japanese now step up to provide relief and compassion to others in distant lands.”

—Peter Goodman, publisher, Stone Bridge Press

Do have a read of the messages and peruse TomoHere at Ihatov, we welcome suggestions of additional resources for our Children of Tohoku page.

1945←2015: Reflections on Stolen Youth

By Avery Fischer Udagawa, Bangkok

Editors’ note: This post contains references to wartime atrocities that may disturb some readers.

August and September mark the end of Japan’s Asia-Pacific War some 76 years ago. In Japan, remaining survivors of the war are elders whose stories come from their youth and beg to be shared with today’s young people.

But many obstacles can stand in the way of such story-passing, especially after 76 years. The world has changed starkly, so the realities of “back then” can seem impossibly remote. Moreover, Japanese young people of 1945 not only endured but also inflicted suffering in a war of aggression. Can a collection of reminiscences about their “stolen youth,” translated into English, truly touch the hearts of international readers?

These questions were on my mind as I opened the e-book version of 1945←2015: Reflections on Stolen Youth. This volume, compiled by Motomi Murota and Naomi Kitagawa with photographs by Yuriko Ochiai, was published in Japan in 2015 on the seventieth anniversary of Japan’s surrender. In 2020, it was published in English translation by the same Japanese publisher, Korocolor, using proceeds from crowdfunding. The creators and backers of the book clearly wished its content to travel outside Japan’s borders. What is its agenda? I wondered.

My worries that it might present a view of the war overly sympathetic to Japan were erased, however, when I read the opening account by a survivor of the Tokyo Air Raids, who questioned Japan’s failure to compensate civilian victims of the raids. Another account openly described receiving abusive training as a Japanese military recruit and then giving the same treatment to Allied prisoners. Other accounts portrayed official neglect of the residents of Okinawa. Multiple accounts pulsed with remorse for committing violence during the war, some of it under orders: vivisection, pillaging, rape. Sharp critiques of wartime policy and regret for assenting to it filled the testimonies of many of the fifteen survivors featured.

The collection does include further accounts by civilian victims. One was twelve when the atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. He had to find the body of his six-year-old sister and then cremate it all by himself.

Yet the recurring theme of the accounts is not victimhood, but a longing for the young people of today to know the tragedy of war, that they may avoid repeating it. Many of the survivors have sought to address their past wrongs, in part by unabashedly owning up to their actions.

Following each survivor’s narrative is a letter by a modern-day youth in response. I was impressed by the perceptivity of the letter-writers, and I felt that they succeeded in providing a bridge between the world of young people back then and the world of today. The letters also function to create space for readers to absorb each war story before moving on to the next. Close-up photographs provide another bridge to the present. When I read the e-book by smartphone, I appreciated being able to pause and hold the image of each survivor and letter writer in the palm of my hand.

Mr. Sanae Ikeda lost all his brothers and sisters in the atomic bombing of Nagasaki. He was twelve.

Despite my apprehensions before reading, I soon found myself wishing that every high school or college student who studies World War II might have access to these concise, moving stories and vivid photos, which give human voices and faces to a wide representation of locations and conflicts throughout Asia.

The English-language edition was masterfully translated by Deborah Iwabuchi, with the letters by today’s youth translated into English by students in the same age group (and then edited by Deborah). This speaks to the compilers’ wishes to make the war stories personal for people just embarking on their adult lives. The translators came from a variety of places—everywhere from Shizuoka to South Korea, and from Sydney to Senegal. The entire English-language edition was further edited by Stephanie Umeda, resulting in a highly readable work clearly polished by many hands.

I had the opportunity to ask Deborah a few questions about this book:

Avery: Deborah, you mentioned that the creators of Reflections made a point of involving young translators in the English-language edition, just as they had involved young writers of the letters. I understand that the involvement of young translators was exciting for the Japanese public. Why do you think it generated such excitement?

Deborah: From what I’ve seen and heard, the whole point of people telling their war stories is to pass them on to the next generations, so they will know not to support war. Seeing so many young people excited about an anti-war, pro-peace book had to be fulfillment of a dream for many.

Avery: As an extremely close reader of this book, what did you take away from its meditations on redemption? Did you find the different perspectives on addressing past wrongs to be different from perspectives you had encountered elsewhere, or somewhat similar/universal?

Deborah: The survivors seem to have digested so much harm and evil during the war and then managed to survive and lead successful lives. On the other hand, the war, what they lost in the war and/or the harm they caused in the war remain daily parts of their existence. I’m not sure if this is what you are asking, but they managed to move forward without moving on. Lost loved ones continue to be mourned and the atrocities some committed are never forgotten or brushed off. There were so many different situations, but all the survivors reached the same conclusion of not covering up what they did and not toning down what they saw or suffered, all for the sake of passing it down. I guess their redemption is the fact that they aren’t asking for redemption. They believe that survival came with responsibility and that few died deserved deaths. They just want the reader to know war is horrible and there are no circumstances under which it should be permitted or rationalized. What I hadn’t expected was the lack of blame. There was some (mainly against the Japanese leaders), but the survivors didn’t let that bog down their plea for peace. It definitely cleared my brain of the hubris and never-ending controversy surrounding war, and allowed me to focus on peace. They offered me redemption—even though I can’t explain and analyze the war, I can still take a stand against it.

Avery: In the English-reading world, what ages of readers would you say are an ideal audience for this book? Who would you most like to hand it to?

Deborah: The compiling editors definitely want a young reading audience and the survivors wrote about their experiences as very young people, so definitely YA. In the English-speaking world, readers in general will not know much about what happened in Japan and on the Japanese side in the war, so there is lots to learn. In conclusion, I’d say YA and up.

* * *

Avery: 1945←2015: Reflections on Stolen Youth was published in Japan and can be challenging to purchase from overseas, but it’s worth it.

I personally recommend purchasing the Kindle edition via Amazon Japan (ASIN B07TNRKF8R). If you typically purchase Kindle books using (say) an Amazon US account, you will need to establish a separate Amazon Japan account. Using a device that you have not previously used for e-reading (I used an iPhone), navigate to Amazon.co.jp, set the site’s language to English (if wished), create an account (required), purchase Reflections, and download the free Kindle app in order to read on your device. The Kindle app on this device will now receive e-books purchased via Amazon Japan only. Note: Since publishing this post, I have learned that Reflections does not work well with Kindle for PC.

The handsome print version of the English translation of Reflections is available for purchase as well, via both Amazon Japan and Amazon US (ISBN 978-4907239510). Don’t be fooled by the Japanese-language advertising sash that may show on the cover image, or even by labels that say this is a Japanese edition, in the Japanese language, etc. If “Translation by Deborah Iwabuchi” appears on the cover, you have found the English-language edition. Its sticker price at Amazon Japan is lower than overseas.

If you have any trouble obtaining 1945←2015: Reflections on Stolen Youth, please email japan [at] scbwi.org, and we will be glad to provide assistance.

Nahoko Uehashi and Cathy Hirano Speak in 2020 Printz Virtual Ceremony (6:07-17:24)

By Avery Fischer Udagawa, Bangkok

This past Monday, June 29, I rose early for a megadose of inspiration: Nahoko Uehashi and Cathy Hirano speaking in the American Library Association’s 2020 Michael L. Printz Virtual Ceremony!

Uehashi and Hirano were accepting the Printz Honor for The Beast Player, a novel also named a 2020 Batchelder Honor Book.

In her acceptance speech, subtitled by Hirano, Uehashi described how the novel had grown in her mind from concrete experiences, such as inexplicably imagining (while driving!) a girl standing on a cliff in the wind, and reading a book by a beekeeper.

In her own acceptance speech, Hirano reflected on traveling from her native Canada to Japan at age 20 and then settling there. She had been inspired at age 12 by Bahá’u’lláh’s words, “The earth is but one country and mankind its citizens.”

I found it rare and exciting to see an overseas author and translator feature in ALA’s awards day, during which the Caldecott, Newbery, and many other well-known awards were also conferred. The speeches made me want to get right back to translating!

Videos of all speeches from #TheBookAwardCelebration may now be found here. Thank you to the honorees, the 2020 Printz Committee, and the ALA for making Uehashi’s and Hirano’s speeches available!

The Beast Warrior, the sequel to The Beast Player, will be published Stateside on July 28, 2020.

You’ve Got Mail and #WorldKidLit

By Avery Fischer Udagawa, Bangkok

For years, I’ve had a penchant for quoting You’ve Got Mail, the bookish Nora Ephron flick that features Meg Ryan as Kathleen Kelly and Tom Hanks as Joe Fox. Last week, I turned my tendency into a post at Cynsations, the children’s literature blog of author Cynthia Leitich-Smith.

An excerpt:

But “You’ve Got Mail” has stayed with me for another reason—the Kathleen Kelly line, “When you read a book as a child, it becomes a part of your identity in a way that no other reading in your whole life does.”

Spoken to Joe Fox to explain why children’s books (and a good children’s bookshop) matter, the line also explains why children’s books in translation matter: They get read in readers’ formative years.

Children’s literature not only adds to or stretches readers’ conceptions of themselves and the universe, but it shapes those conceptions early.

I go on to say that, at a time of pernicious nativism, children’s literature must grow more international. Why?

Because books form children. Children form tomorrow’s world. We want them to know and love it like Joe and Kathleen adore the West Side.

I long for more Japanese (and every other language’s) kidlit in translation! For a look at how this relates to caviar garnish, cappuccino, sushi, Fox Books, and the Shop Around the Corner, swing by the post at Cynsations.

World Kid Lit Month Interview: Helen Wang Talks with Cathy Hirano

By Avery Fischer Udagawa, Bangkok

To ring in World Kid Lit Month 2017, SCBWI: The Blog has an interview in which Helen Wang, a master Chinese-to-English kidlit translator, interviews Cathy Hirano, a master Japanese-to-English kidlit translator. The interview features Hirano’s latest publication, a translation of the chapter book Yours Sincerely, Giraffe by Megumi Iwasa, illustrated by Jun Takabatake. Enjoy!

 

Chelsea Buns in Nagano for #WorldKidLit Month

By Avery Fischer Udagawa, Bangkok

September is #WorldKidLit Month, a time to notice if global stories are reaching kids in the form of translations. My children enjoyed one such story, and met the translator, on a recent trip to Nagano.

img_5948Hart Larrabee with two (hungry) readers of #WorldKidLit

Hart Larrabee has interpreted for the Japanese Olympic team; translated nonfiction about art, design and architecture; and translated Basho, Buson, Issa, and Shiki for the new book Haiku: Classic Japanese Short Poems. He lives in Obuse, a small town where Issa and the artist Hokusai both created famous works.

But my family visited Obuse to hit a bakery. That’s because a picture book Hart had translated, The Nurse and the Baker by Mika Ichii, got us hungry for Chelsea buns from Obuse Iwasaki, a shop where the buns are made using a recipe from a Canadian nurse.

the-nurse-and-the-bakerThe Nurse and the Baker: The Story of Chelsea Buns in Obuse

In 1932, Canadian missionaries opened a tuberculosis sanatorium in Obuse. In 1935, a nurse named Lilias Powell became head of nursing there. She was known as a stickler for high standards.

04Text and illustrations © Mika Ichii. English translation © Hart Larrabee.

 

Koyata Iwasaki was the fourth-generation head of Obuse Iwasaki, located in the center of town. His great-grandfather had founded the shop in the early 1860s. After World War II, Koyata-san delivered bread to the sanatorium and learned to make Chelsea buns from Miss Powell. He experimented repeatedly to meet her high standards. And a local specialty was born.

The Nurse and the Baker tells this story with a focus on Koyata-san, a fine baker who nonetheless quakes in his boots when summoned by the exacting Miss Powell. He tries (and fails) many times to make her recipe with local ingredients. When he succeeds, she is moved to tears because he has given her a taste of home.

Mika Ichii’s illustrations and story, in Hart’s translation, more than prepared my kids to appreciate the Chelsea buns at Obuse Iwasaki—still arrayed near a photo of Miss Powell, as described in the book. And it was a huge treat to meet the late Koyata-san’s wife, who still works in the store.

Yet the “delicious” part of this story to me as a parent, is that the picture book’s focused telling, joyful climax and crack English have caused my children to return, repeatedly, to a story about trying. They’ve also learned words like “tuberculosis,” “sacrificed” and “specialty,” seen how a business can show gratitude, and absorbed a slice of Japanese/Canadian history.

We owe you, Hart!

img_5957-editedSign for Hart Larrabee’s business, Letter and Spirit Translation, in Obuse. At left is the logo for his wife Sakiko’s business, Takefushi Acupuncture, Moxibustion, and Massage. 

The Nurse and The Baker: The Story of Chelsea Buns in Obuse is a bilingual book published by local press Bunya and order-able from anywhere. 

Kyoto Journal Features Translator Cathy Hirano

Kyoto Journal 86 Page 132

By Wendy Uchimura, Yokohama

The inspiring talk “Why I Translate for Children and Teens in a Translation-Resistant Market,” given by translator Cathy Hirano at the 2014 SCBWI Japan Translation Day, a biennial event, has been skillfully adapted into an article that appears in Kyoto Journal Volume 86.

Cathy Hirano is an award-winning translator whose works include The Friends by Kazumi Yumoto, as well as Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit and Moribito II: Guardian of the Darkness by Nahoko Uehashi.

With an introduction by Avery Fischer Udagawa, this article delves into why we should bother to translate children’s literature, the benefits of sharing culture, how the English publishing world can sometimes act as an obstacle, and how the translator can play mediator between the author and the editor.

Top: page 132 of Kyoto Journal Volume 86. This issue is downloadable here.

Kyoto Journal 86

Translator Daniel Hahn on BBC Radio 4

Daniel Hahn, featured at SCBWI Japan Translation Day in October 2014, spoke on the BBC Radio 4 program Four Thought about why we need translated children’s books. Click to listen (15 minutes).Translator Daniel Hahn on BBC Radio 4