On Language and Translation

And now, for something completely different – I’ve decided to talk about a topic we’ve been covering in a class of mine. I mean, I’m ostensibly here for school, and besides, everyone must be interested in the things that I’m studying here in Kyoto, right? (well -_-; )

Something about classes in general is that the workload is clearly heavier than I originally thought it was.  Other friends of mine who’ve studied abroad before have all said that essentially you’re there to enjoy the life, and experiencing the country for all it’s worth. I mean, being here is obviously a huge learning experience in of itself as far as seeing and living Japanese life. I see people passing out tissues with advertisements on them, bikes all over the place, girls in their school uniform dresses IN THE FREAKING WINTER, heated toilet seats, ofuro with covers over them, tiny cars, crowded densha, okonomiyaki, takoyaki, billions of convenience stores, ridiculously cheap manga, long commutes, kotatsu, Japanese game shows, huge futons, figuring out the subtle (and not so subtle) cues regarding when to switch between politeness levels, devoted otaku, Street Fighter II tournaments, J-drama, the family playing Wii, the Dad leaving early in the morning and coming home late every day, awesome udon shops everywhere, cell phones with more functions than my computer including free texting and messaging, the integration of Japanese tradition with modern life (such as going to the Jinja)…

But as far as classes are concerned, they aren’t going easy on us at all. I’m not sure if I’m just imagining, but it seems like I spend more time each day studying than I did back in Michigan. Maybe there’s less to do when I’m not exploring the city or something, or just because I spent 2 hours a day commuting… but if there was any risk of me slacking off, it’s gone now.

So back to talking about my translation class. The first class in which we analyzed our translations was quite difficult, in large part because of my low level of Japanese proficiency – there were just a lot of words and grammar forms and special locations that required some research on the part of the translator (me) that I struggled with, eventually producing a crap translation that didn’t even make much sense in English. Regardless though, the class discussion and topics have been interesting. One of our readings for this week was Walter Benjamin’s famous work (in this field, at least) The Task of the Translator. In it, he makes the point that as far as fiction is concerned, the idea of an “invisible translator” is flawed, and the worst thing to do.

He argues that even words with fixed meaning can undergo a maturing process – this is regarding the original language itself, not simply when it comes to translation. What sounded fresh once may sound hackneyed later, and what was once current may someday sound quaint. Translation is not something between two dead languages, but generally two constantly evolving and growing languages, if only because people’s perceptions and ways of thinking about language change. This is important as far as tone, interpretation, and voice are concerned. I’d say it’s safe to say that fiction translators are constantly trying to balance between 1) Translating literally, and 2) Translating something such that it feels natural in the new language. Under Benjamin’s framework, the translator is no longer burdened by what she’s doing when she changes words, because the original language itself is in constant flux. For example, Japanese used now is different from the Japanese used in the early 1900s. This holds true for almost every language, except for truly dead ones like Latin. The context through which you see something changes – because the original language changes, there’s really no such thing as a perfect translation.

Now regarding the balance that the translator has to strike between being extremely faithful to the original language and re-interpreting it in the new language, one can observe an interesting phenomenon when it comes to Japanese manga translated into English and published in the States. Here, you have a situation where the translator/translation is intentionally visible – for a lot of manga, people want to see the original meaning to a certain extent, and thus you have names that aren’t westernized. In the past, sometimes characters originally called “Makoto” might get names like “Ashley” when the manga was brought to the States, but it’s significantly less common now. Rather, for many things in translated manga, they keep the original word and instead provide footnotes in the end to provide context, rather than try and find an English equivalent.

Of course, there are some exceptions, depending on the market and the manga itself. Notably, in Pokemon, rather than keep the word “onigiri” (rice balls), they switched it to “donuts”.

The ironic part about translation is that the more “invisible” the translator attempts to become, the more the original author’s voice is lost. A literal word for word translation is really clunky, awkward, and probably grammatically incorrect. Obviously, this is an extreme, but it goes to show that a translator must to a certain extent reword things so it makes sense. To be good, you actually have to be able to really understand the original text, and create a new voice for the author; something that’s your own style. An interesting example I’ve seen is the English version of Azumanga Daioh. In the manga, there’s a character from Osaka, and the stereotype is that people from that area (Kansai) all speak in the kansai-ben (also the case in Kyoto) – essentially, it’s different from standard Japanese (Tokyo-style). As such, she supposedly speaks in a different dialect, and this is translated into English by giving her somewhat of a Boston accent, which doesn’t seem to fit perfectly in my opinion, but the spirit of it makes sense. I think it was chosen because it’s not as subtle and hard to notice as an American Midwestern or West Coast accent, and not nearly as heavy as a Southern drawl. At any rate, this is a good example of creativity in translation that helps to preserve the original *intent* of the author.

On a related note, it’s interesting that a lot of Japanese songs will use English words in them, sometimes randomly, sometimes making sense in the context of the song. Now what fascinating is the fact that at a certain level, the English used in these songs is its own language – rather, it seems more like an expansion of the Japanese vocabulary, despite being ostensibly in English – this is because word can mean something to Japanese people, and yet something else to native English speakers. Thus when it comes to translating Japanese lyrics to other languages, what should you do? Say you want to translate a song from Japanese into English, and there are English lyrics or words in the song. If you just directly bring the English over, then something’s inevitably missing, given that the context is different. To repeat the point, the very scenario of seeing an English word in the middle of a Japanese song must be preserved. For example, perhaps translating that English word into a French word, to retain the original sense and intention of the song – the “exoticness” of the English as its perceived to Japanese people.

This brings up my final issue – I am often asked, “Do you think in Japanese or English or Chinese etc…” to which I used to respond that it would be whatever language I was speaking and being spoken to in, which is something that is possible only after you have a solid enough grasp of the language and vocabulary. However, after further thought, I feel that I’m not necessarily thinking in Chinese or English specifically per se – rather, I know vocabulary and ways of formulating thoughts based on the different subtleties of each language, but I’m thinking in *ideas* - this ability is merely enriched by any knowledge of additional languages.

Hope this made sense.