‘translation/interpretation’ Category

  1. can you hear it

    March 11, 2013 by amanda

    Photo: Izumi-green.co.jp

    Photo: Izumi-green.co.jp

    「    聞こえますか

    兵庫県西宮市  松浦 末子

     

    買い物してもらっても   ありがとう

    電球替えてもらっても   ありがとう

    毎日こんなに沢山のありがとうが  あったなんて

    二人でいる時は      何もかもが当り前で

    お互い言えなかった    ありがとう

    今 夜空の星に言います  ありがとう    」

     

    Can You Hear It?

    Even when you did the shopping

    “Thank you.”

    Even when you changed a lightbulb

    “Thank you.”

    Even though everyday there were so many things I should have thanked you for

    When we were together

    It just seemed so obvious

    And we never said it

    “Thank you.”

    Now I look at the stars in the midnight sky and say,

    “Thank you.”

    by Matsuura Sueko (Nishinomiya, Hyogo Prefecture)


  2. the birthplace of buddha and a trip to everest

    October 5, 2012 by amanda

    Here I am with Rt. Hon. Mr. Madhav Kumar Nepal, the former Prime Minister of Nepal, and my fellow CIR

    I really enjoy when foreign officials visit Iwate, even though I get crazy jitters and feel like at any moment my head will go blank and I’ll forget any and all Japanese (and English too). It’s just fascinating to hear about the situations of other countries, especially the ones I never got the opportunity to study in high school world history. It’s a great workout for my interpretation skills, and while I still tend to give too broad of a translation and things get kind of vague and I start talk all over the place and then at the end I just trail off… I’ve found ways to compensate for all that, and realize now that even professionals get things wrong, have to ask for clarification, and lose their train of thought. Each sentence is like a puzzle that I have to solve on the spot. It’s exhausting, but it’s kind of fun. It’s especially nice when you get the draft of a speech ahead of time so you can just translate it beforehand (and then have your awesome boss check it in the remaining 30 minutes). Heh. The picture above was taken at Iwate Prefectural University, where Mr. Nepal gave a speech on Nepal-Japan relations that I was in charge of interpreting. Ninety minutes! Three years ago, I probably would have hidden in the broom closet.

    It’s kind of nice, to know what I can do.

    Today’s Iwate Nippo Shimbun

    Wishing for the progression of our cooperative ties with Japan

    A lecture by the former Prime Minister of Nepal

    IWATE PREFECTURAL UNIVERSITY – The former Prime Minister of Nepal, Rt. Hon. Mr. Madhav Kumar Nepal, visited Iwate Prefectural University in Takizawa Town on the 4th to give a special lecture to students entitled “Promoting Friendship Between Nepal & Japan.”

    Mr. Nepal gave his condolences to all those lost in the Great East Japan Earthquake and Tsunami, and expressed his respect for the survivors of Iwate who are working towards reconstruction. As he spoke of of the exchange between Nepal and Japan in areas such as Buddhism and mountaineering, he also stressed the need for technological and economic support of Nepal’s emerging hydro-power industry and infrastructure.

    “Investing in Nepal will lead to a bridge between neighboring countries China and India,” said Mr. Nepal, wishing for the strengthening of Nepal-Japan cooperative ties.

    Mr. Nepal was the Prime Minister of Nepal from May, 2009 to February, 2011. The special lecture was organized by the Nepal Japan Citizen Society. Around 100 students attended the lecture, and asked many questions.

    Mr. Nepal also visited the Prefectural Office where he met with Governor Takuya Tasso.

    -end-

    (we interpreted that meeting too!)


  3. さらばよ、さらば

    September 14, 2012 by amanda

    Photo credit: Asahi Shimbun

    On September 12, 2012, Rikuzentakata City cut down the Lone Pine Tree, the only pine tree that survived the tsunami that devastated a great forest, so that it may be preserved instead of withering in the salty dead soil.

    Here’s an article from the Mainichi (translated from Japanese):

    The Great East Japan Earthquake and

    Tsunami: Come back, Lone Pine Tree!

    Symbol felled for preservation

     

    The Mainichi Shimbun, September 12, 2012 – Tokyo Evening Edition

     The “Miraculous Lone Pine Tree,” which survived the Tohoku tsunami but was damaged beyond repair, was prepared to be cut down on the morning of the 12th in Rikuzentakata City, Iwate Prefecture. It will be preserved and replanted in the same spot in February of next year as a symbol of hope.

    The pine tree was the lone survivor of a forest of around 70,000 trees planted in the Edo Period as a natural tsunami barrier. The Lone Pine Tree gave courage and hope to the survivors of the 2011 disaster but salt damage to the soil proved fatal to its roots. In December of last year, experts confirmed that while the tree was still standing, it had withered and died. The tree was at risk of being knocked down by typhoons or lighting, so the city decided to preserve it as a monument.

    The Lone Pine Tree was around 27 meters tall. Around 100 townspeople watched over the tree’s last free-standing moments while laborers began cutting off the limbs and branches at 10:20 am.

    A chainsaw was used to cut down the trunk of the tree in the afternoon, and will be transported away on the 13th.

    The Lone Pine Tree will be brought to an Aichi Prefecture saw mill where it will be divided into 9 parts.  After the core has been hollowed out, a chemical facility in Kyoto City will treat it with preservatives. The branches will be reproduced to restore the tree to what it looked like while living.

    The preservation project will cost 150 million yen (around $2 million). The city has created a fund for charitable donations, which currently has received 654 donations from throughout Japan and the world, totaling around 26,870,000 yen (around $350,000).

    Mayor Futoshi Toba said at a Shinto prayer rite for the project, “It is frustrating how slowly the reconstruction has progressed in the one and half years since the disaster. It is our duty to preserve the Lone Pine Tree so that it can continue to be a symbol of hope for all of the affected areas still suffering.” – by Taichi Nemoto

    And here’s an English article as well.

    I had assumed that the tree was still living, even though I knew it was dying of salt water in the soil, so it really surprised me to turn on the tv and see the tree getting torn apart. It seemed like a wholly Japanese thing to do – killing a tree in order to preserve it forever, with a man-made skeleton in its core, and sat back in its resting place like nothing had happened. Basically, it didn’t matter if it was actually living or not – which in the scheme of things, is pretty much how all humans feel about their symbols. I was just surprised by how … public it was, I guess. I don’t know.

    But the tree was already dead, so I guess this was the practical thing to do. And even if it wasn’t, it was going to die anyway. Even if there had been no tsunami, that tree would have died at some point. Maybe it would have been another century (the thing was 270 years old after all), but it would have popped the bucket eventually. Or, uh, popped its, uh, roots? I guess.

    It’s kind of interesting. Everyone was so worried about the health of that tree, because it meant something to so many people. But everything dies. Every life is an ephemeral thing. That was something the tsunami reminded us of, after all. And no matter how slow the reconstruction is, it is happening. It would have been poignant, too, if they had taken it down because the people of Rikuzentakata didn’t “need” it anymore. But I’m not a resident, so I suppose I don’t really have the right perspective.

    Regardless, not a mile inland, pine saplings sprouted from cones collected before the tsunami are growing like weeds, carefully cultivated by people who loved those trees more than anything. If there’s ever going to be a symbol of the reconstruction of Rikuzentakata, it probably should be those young pine trees.


  4. keep on chasing, boy

    March 23, 2012 by amanda

    The following is an excerpt from “Yoru wa Mijikashi Aruke Yo Otome (The Night is Short; Go Forth, Young Woman)” by Morimi Tomihiko.

    Have you ever seen the parting between sunny weather and rainy weather?

    Imagine yourself standing motionless, drenched by the rain, hearing the large raindrops slap and patter on the ground. If you were to wipe the rain streaming down your face and look ahead, the warm sunrays would be illuminating the ground just a few steps in the distance, and there would be no raindrops staining the road. In front of you is the parting between sunny and rainy weather. I’ve seen that strange scene only once, when I was a child.

    That winter, I once again thought of that scene.

    There’s a drenched rat scurrying through the cool rain. Of course, that rat is me. I’m trying to get to the sunny weather. But that sunny weather that I can see right in front of me keeps fading into the distance, like a summer mirage. Standing in the sun is a girl with jet black hair, the girl that I love. Warmth surrounds her; she’s peaceful, blessed by the gods’ good favor, and she probably smells good too. And then just look at me. I’m not surrounded by the gods’ good favor – rather, I’m only blessed with immaturity, and the only thing that’s raining on me are my pathetic tears as I struggle clumsily. The only wind blowing against me is a storm of love.

    She walks down streets ruled by the god of wind*, and without even trying she became the main character of a town descending into the last month of the year. And she didn’t even notice at all. She still doesn’t notice.

    On the other hand, I was blown over by the god of colds*. I was suffering under a high fever, and my lungs were bruised by intense coughs. I lay curled in my unmade futon, and could only indulge in daydreams since I could not chase after her. I settled for being a pebble on the side of road because I could no longer dream of becoming the main character. It seemed like it had been decided: my destiny was to spend the new years holidays all alone.

    But, it all was going to happen by that unmade futon.

    This is her story, and it’s my story too.

    Being an opportunist, that pebble by the side of the road was finally going to rise from his unmade futon.

    Yoru wa Mijikashi Aruke Yo Otome (The Night is Short; Go Forth, Young Woman)” by Morimi Tomihiko

    *Note: In Japanese, the word for “wind” and “cold” are homophones, so the “god of wind” and the “god of colds” are both “kaze no kami.”

    I’m about caught up on my Morimi – there’s still a pretty long book about tanuki (I think?) that I haven’t read, but I’ll save that for later. It’s kind of depressing to think that there might be no more to read from him for a while, so I should savor it while I can. I just really like him, even if every single one of his stories is about a young man in love with a short-haired manic pixie dream girl. Oh, and they all take place in Kyoto, during college, at Kyoto University. And they’ve all got varying degrees of weird unexplained fantastical events occurring in them. But at least in this book, you got to read some of it from her perspective. And, according to this kid, it is her story. He’s just a pebble on the sidelines.

    +++

    “So you’ve read so many more books than I have; who is your favorite author?”

    “Besides Morimi? …Hn, that’s a tough one.”


  5. that which will never be returned

    March 11, 2012 by amanda

    The following is an excerpt from “Hisaichi no Hontou no Hanashi wo Shiyou” (Talking About What Really Happened in the Disaster Area) by Toba Futoshi, the current mayor of Rikuzentakata. Mayor Toba lost his wife in the tsunami.

    I became the mayor of Rikuzentakata, Iwate Prefecture, on February 13th, 2011.

    And then, less than a month after coming to office, the Tohoku Earthquake struck right as I was beginning my journey as the mayor of the city.

    Rikuzentakata is at the southern most point in the prefecture, facing the Sanriku sea, and took the most damage out of any other place in Iwate. As of today, July 5th, there were 1,526 deaths recorded. The only town in Iwate that had more than 1,000 deaths was Rikuzentakata. Even though it has been 4 months since the earthquake and tsunami struck, there are still 543 people missing. Rikuzentakata is already a small town of only 25,000 people, so the scale of loss is just devastating.

    I think many people have now seen on television and in newspapers the images of our town now destroyed by the tsunami.  Of course, before the disaster, we had a JR train station, a city hall, a large hospital, hotels, and many other buildings. All of those buildings were swallowed up by the tsunami.

    I was born in Kanagawa Prefecture and lived in Machida, Tokyo until I was 28. After that, I moved to Rikuzentakata and started working as a city council member in 1995. I’ve lived half of my life in this city, and I will probably live here for many years and decades to come.

    And I saw, with my own two eyes, my homeland, my children’s homeland – our furusato – disappear in an instant.

    At that moment, I could only think about protecting the lives of the townspeople, but watching all of the town – things that had been standing since the day before – wash away and then disappear was a chilling, horrifying moment.

    One of the things swept away was my house, and my wife who had been staying at home that day. She is no longer with us.

    And so on that day I became the mayor of the largest disaster area of Iwate Prefecture, and a survivor.

    *

    There are many things that have to be done. First, after we remove all of the debris and wreckage, we have to walk down the path to reconstruction that is the only chance for Rikuzentakata’s future. That’s why, when I was approached to publish a book, I almost refused, thinking, “This is not the time for that.” However, as the days since the disaster pass one by one, I’ve begun to think that it would be worthwhile to write a book, because now is the time to write it; now is the right timing. No matter how shocking the news is about the disaster, as time passes, our story will stop being told. And to the people outside of the Tohoku area, the tv broadcasts are the only news they have about us. They might begin to think that reconstruction is going smoothly and that there is no news to be had.

    However, that is not true. There are large mountains of debris piling up just waiting to be disposed of, and the large hollowed-out buildings that will eventually be destroyed are just sitting there, abandoned.

    The reason they haven’t been cleaned up yet is because we simply have no way to do it. There may be people shocked by this, but even at this stage in July, we still have areas that don’t have their utilities and lifelines back up running. The station and the tracks are destroyed, so the trains are still down. The roads are still only for emergency vehicles, and the scars of the disaster still remain.

    Even if just one person reads this, I want people to know about what’s really happening in the disaster area. That’s why I decided to publish this book. If and when some other large incident happens in Japan, the television stations are going to stop showing the situation in Rikuzentakata. And then the disaster area will start to be forgotten…

    What will that mean?

    The donations will probably stop being collected; volunteers will stop coming to help. If that happens during this time of reconstruction, it will truly make things difficult. And what’s more frightening is the possibility that people will start thinking that Rikuzentakata has already been rebuilt, even though we have so much ahead of us.

    If the survivors who have lost their houses and are now living in shelters and temporary housing are forgotten about, what will happen to them?

    The reason we have been able to withstand these long, awful days is because Japan and the rest of the world has been supporting us. We’ve not been forgotten about. We’re not alone. These thoughts and hopes have kept us feeling like we’re alive, and given us the energy to face reconstruction.

    Of course money is important, but the most important thing is mental care for survivors. The Rikuzentakata City Government has received letters and words of encouragement from so many different places. One elementary school had an entire class write us letters and send them in a huge envelope. I’m sure the teacher of that class told the children about what was really happening in Rikuzentakata. And if in the act of writing those letters, those children were able to remember those four characters – 陸前高田 (Riku-zen-taka-ta) – then I am truly happy. That heavy stack of letters felt like they represented the sympathy the teacher and students had for us, and my eyes began to water.

    I am so grateful for all of the letters and words of encouragement that we received from everyone. They gave us so much courage.

    It would not be strange for a disaster like this to happen again at some other place, some other time. But we are continuing to fight for our homeland here in the disaster area.

    I hope that you will read this book and feel like the survivors of Rikuzentakata are not strangers, but your friends, your brothers, your sisters, your family.

    – “Hisaichi no Hontou no Hanashi wo Shiyou” (Talking About What Really Happened in the Disaster Area) by Toba Futoshi


  6. the night is short

    February 17, 2012 by amanda

    “As the wedding party and the drinking party, and the farewell party and the 60th birthday party all gathered quietly, Rihaku-san and I sat across from each other, a sake set in between us.

    A large silver glass sake bottle and two cups were placed on the round table.

    The competition would be extremely simple. Rihaku-san and I would both drink one glass, and then turn it upside down in front of the other to show it was empty. Then the next cup would be poured. A winner would only be declared once one of us said they could not drink anymore, or once one of us became too drunk to hold a cup, or once the resident doctor Uchida-san had determined it to be too dangerous to go on.

    As it was being poured, the “Imposter Denki Bran” looked as clear as purified water, but with a faint orange glimmer within. I took the cup into my hand and smelled it gently. All of a sudden, it was if large-petaled flowers were blooming before me.

    The President and Todo-san and Higuchi-san stood beside me.

    “And so: this drinking competition is riding on all of your bets. If this girl is to lose, then your loans will double. I won’t accept less.”

    The three men nodded gravely at Rihaku-san’s words.

    The large clock on the wall at the far corner of the room struck 3am.

    “Please start,” said Uchida-san, acting as our witness.

    How should I describe the moment when the first drops of Imposter Denki Bran hit my throat? The Imposter Denki Bran was not sweet, and it was not dry. It wasn’t like I had imagined either, like a lighting striking the top of my tongue. It was just a tasteless liquid with a mellow, full-bodied fragrance. I had always thought that taste and smell were two linked senses, but only with this drink was I wrong. Flowers bloomed with every sip, and there was no aftertaste – the liquid traveled to my stomach where flowers grew like it was a garden. As I drank, happiness bloomed from the pit of my stomach. Even though we were having a drinking competition, Rihaku-san and I were drinking calmly, smiling.

    Ah, this is wonderful. I want to drink like this forever.

    I sat there like that, enjoying my Imposter Denki Bran. The commotion of all the people around us slowly faded away, and it strangely felt like Rihaku-san and I were alone in a quiet room, drinking together. If you’ll forgive my exaggeration, the Imposter Denki Bran felt like it was warming my entire life from the bottom up.

    One more. One more. One more.

    As I was focusing on my drink and losing track of time, I started to feel safer and safer. Even though we hadn’t said a word to each other, I felt as if Rihaku-san was like my grandfather. And even without words, it felt like he was talking to me.

    “All you have to do is live,” said Rihaku-san, or at least it felt as if he did. “All you have to do is drink delicious sake. One more, one more, and then one more again.”

    “Rihaku-san, are you happy?”

    “Of course.”

    “I’m very glad for you.”

    Rihaku-san smiled gently, and said in a tiny whisper:

    “The night is short; go forth, young woman.”

    I was having so much fun, the Imposter Denki Bran filling my stomach. This is so good. This is so tasty. I could drink this all night.

    As soon as I wished that this competition could last forever, I realized that Rihaku-san had put a stop to the proceedings. He placed a wrinkled hand on top of his cup on the table.

    “I can drink no more,” he said. “You. Let’s stop with this.”

    All of a sudden I returned to my senses, to the bustling commotion.

    The ring of partygoers gathered around us tightly, me and old man Rihaku. The President tapped me on the shoulders, and Higuchi-san stood there smiling with his hands in his pockets. And Todo-san, who had started it all, sat on the carpet, his face scrunched up in thought.

    +++

    I began walking down the stone pavement of the dark Pontocho streets.

    I no longer remembered why I had set out upon such a journey that night. But even so, it had been rather fun; a night where I had learned so much. Or rather, perhaps I just felt like I had. But really, that didn’t matter at all anymore. There I was, a small little chickpea, and I would face forward, aim for a beautiful life, and keep on walking forth.

    I took a deep breath of the crisp, cold air and looked to the sky above. I remember what Rihaku-san had said as we were drinking. A happy mood came over me, like if I yelled those words they would protect me.

    So I whispered them.

    The night is short; go forth, young woman.

    –”Yoru Ha Mijakashi Aruke Yo Otome (The Night is Short; Go Forth, Young Woman)” by Morimi Tomihiko

    What I like about Morimi is that even though his plots seem to star the same characters and take place in the same spots, his command of the written language is so powerful that even I, a non-native speaker, can be moved by it. I hope that someday he stops writing about Kyoto and college and crushing on short-haired pixie girls, but even if he doesn’t, I’ll still read it. It’s only a shame that I can’t convey that beauty in my translations!


  7. if you were just

    February 15, 2012 by amanda

    Well, they have a love of plastic surgery in common...

    Lately the Japanese gossip world has been abuzz with news of yet another “dekichatta kekkon,” or shot-gun wedding. Akanishi Jin, a boy band pop star who was trying to make it in the States, has had to make an honest woman out of Kuroki Meisa, an up-and-coming actress/singer/ingenue. Yes, they still do have “shot-gun weddings” in Japan, and yes, Akanishi Jin was at one point my One True Love. I unfortunately had to find out this news through Twitter, and I’m still bitter about it.

    Sure, this all seems very 1950′s style and super depressing (who wants to bet that the marriage will be over in three years? and that poor child..), but that’s the way it is here still. Everyone knows it’s a shot-gun wedding, everyone knows exactly what’s going on and that there’s no love here, only obligation. But everyone feels inclined to play along anyway. I did read something interesting though – Japanese talent agencies tend to be ruthless, only giving their stars a minimum of their deserved wages and having ridiculous restrictions on their lifestyles. No dating, drinking, going out with girls – with an exhausting work schedule appearing on talk shows, commercials, music videos, your name plastered in neon lights over Shibuya Crossing. Akanishi’s agency, Johnny’s Entertainment, is one of the worst in the business, because they know that if their prized studs were to get girlfriends, all the high school girls would lose interest fast. Smart business, but it’s no wonder that many pop stars get “accidentally” pregnant just to get out of the rat race.

    I do in a way think this is Akanishi yet again giving the finger to the establishment that made him famous to begin with. I don’t think this is something he wanted, seeing as he was trying to break through the American market (though I doubt that would ever happen, no matter how good his English got). Looks like that dream will either be put on hold, or he’ll just follow through on that long tradition of neglectful celebrity fathers. But once again, just as he just up and went to America for six months right after KAT-TUN was established, and just went and quit the band randomly right before they got super huge (and effectively screwed over his bandmates), he had basically said, “screw you guys, I’m going to do what I want to do, and eff the protocol.” There are some people who are very angry that Akanishi isn’t doing what he’s supposed to do, as a Japanese celebrity, and I think that’s interesting.

    I think he’s probably a huge dick, but I do kind of admire that he’s continually rebelled against one of the most oppressive talent agencies in the biz. I’ll always have a soft spot for him seeing as how I watched two of his shows religiously to get my Japanese better, but well, I guess we’ll never end up together now.

    I’ve translated some (kinda vicious) Japanese entertainment news articles after the fold.

    (more…)


  8. i dreamed the world was crumbling down

    October 19, 2011 by amanda

    Treize, dismayed at a horrible translation

    “The year After Colony 195 . The year of the most horrific battle ever seen by the humans of the Earth Sphere. The file dated from the summer of that year was in German and was not a diary nor a memoir, but an essay of sorts.

    In the beginning of the file was a poem entitled “Fall” by Rainer Maria Rilke, an Austrian poet of the old world. It was a mystery as to why a file saved in the summer would have a poem about fall quoted within it. Even more baffling was the last two lines added to the end of the poem, handwritten and crossed out. It seemed to have some sort of deep meaning to it.

    However, I couldn’t begin to fathom what meaning that could be. It was true that there was a Gundam pilot named Milliardo Peacecraft who played a role in this era. So then I could surmise that the creator of this file was probably Treize Khushrenada.

    This is what the file contained:

    —AC- 195 SUMMER

    The leaves are falling, falling as from far
    Where distant with’ring gardens grace the skies,
    Theyr’e falling with a gesture that denies.

    And in the nights the heavy earth falls by
    Into the loneliness, from a far star.

    We all are falling. This hand falls, as it extends.
    And take a look at others. It’s in them all.

    And yet there’s One, holding this fall
    With endless gentleness in both his hands.

    (Note: translation from this site)

    R. M. Rilke “Fall” AD – 1902

    That is my eternal friend,

    Milliardo Peacecraft!

     This era is enveloped within a desolate darkness.

    I believe that out of mankind’s long history, we are currently in the most isolated and lamentable era that there has ever been and ever will be.

    The Earth has been stranded in this vast, endless expanse of space; almost how you would describe a poor lost child who has lost any place to go.

    Human beings took their first flight out of their nest into space at the end of the last era. That was the first time mankind realized he was alone. Even the moon, the closest foothold we had, was tens of thousands of kilometers away.

    In neutral orbit between the sun, moon, and earth at the Lagrange Points, man placed his new habitat – the Space Colonies. Those Space Colonies were to be man’s new home, and as a symbol of this new home, man christened this new era as A.C. After Colony. And even though it has been nearly 200 years since that point, man still cannot break loose of this era of darkness.

    The small number of governors and leaders of this era have fought meaningless battles for authority, flattering themselves by covering it up with a banner of keeping the peace, waged countless battles across the globe, and have brought poverty, famine, and the shedding of blood to many of their people all over the world.

    We have tried to fly into space with our wings still fresh and powerless. You could say this is the reason we are still fumbling around in this darkness. But if you think of it another way, perhaps you would find that the reason humans have tried to get closer to space, a hostile environment to all biological creatures, is because we are still so steeped in this immature sense of loneliness.

    Whatever the reason, we humans have continued obliviously fighting wars for the past century, losing our desire to explore space, our progress stagnating.

    That stagnation will progress to a slow, dull decline. And the leaders of this era will howl that it is all because of this war, as they continue to remain in power.

    Tears of pain and suffering are flowing from the eyes of our people.

    Have we given up?

    Fighting and battles will never end. Certainly, if you take a look at humankind’s long history, you will see that as the clear truth.

    We continue these battles through force of habit, and we are impoverished by their continuation. The unnatural has become natural. It’s not an exaggeration to say that we have thrown away our small hope for peace in order to preserve the sanity of our hearts.

    Humans always say that the sun is always shining radiantly in the back of their minds, but we are stuck on this insignificant planet, turning our eyes away from the light and forgetting that it even exists.

    Do we need a revolution?

    We need a savior who can show us a a ray of light, the end of this era of darkness and the way forward. Even if it’s the tiniest sliver of light, even if he is covered in blood, we need someone who can show the lost, crying child that represents mankind the way forward.

    However, this savior cannot be a winner.

    As soon as someone wins the battle, the battle to gain control of the winner begins, and once again the history of war will repeat itself.

    -The man who changes history

    will have to be the loser.-

    sommer TK”

    -Sumisawa Katsuyuki, “Gundam Wing Frozen Teardrop Part 1″

    Oh gosh, guys, what a mistake. I had some hopes for Frozen Teardrop, but this thing reads like a history book. I don’t consider myself good enough at Japanese to be able to tell whether someone is a good writer or not, but I think Sumisawa should stick to screenplays. I’ve never seen a novelist completely ignore, “show, don’t tell” so completely before! How did this guy manage to write something so wonderful 15 years ago?

    (the truth is, it probably wasn’t very wonderful!)

    I just have a few more pages of this dreck before I start reading an actual book again, written by an actual author who cares about words and how you use them. Thank god!


  9. a train throughout her mind

    August 31, 2011 by amanda

    I originally thought that “Tower of the Sun” was going to be a wash – it was Morimi’s first novel, with half-explained ideas that would be further fleshed out in novels I had already read. I only had decided to read it in the first place because it was relatively slim. I figured I’d finish it just to say I did. I wasn’t really sure what the heck was going on, or even if it all had a point.

    And then I read the last couple of pages, and I realized what he was going for, and I changed my mind. This is perhaps the best novel I’ve read by him, even if it’s the least accessible. No wonder it won all of those awards when it first came out. Morimi found a novel way to describe the pain and aimlessness of being rejected by someone you’re deeply in love with. The bitterness at all the happiness around you. The emptiness of knowing you have to move on but not being sure quite how to yet. The rage at the object of your affections for moving on, without you.

    All underneath a gleaming tower of the sun, overlooking a huge field…

    (more…)


  10. the goddess of the toilet

    August 17, 2011 by amanda

    “From the 3rd grade, for some reason,
    I lived with my grandmother.
    Even though my parents lived next door,
    I lived with my grandmother.

    Everyday I helped out,
    I even played gomoku chess with her.
    But I just hated cleaning the toilet,
    So my grandmother said to me:

    ‘Inside of the toilet
    There lives a beautiful goddess.
    So if you clean the toilet every day,
    You will become a beautiful woman, just like the goddess.’

    From that day,
    I started cleaning that toilet sparkling.
    I so very much wanted to become a beauty,
    So everyday I scrubbed.

    When we would go out shopping,
    The two of us would eat kamo-nanba soup.
    And I would cry and wail when my grandmother
    Would forget to record Yoshimoto Shinkigeki.

    ‘Inside of the toilet
    There lives a beautiful goddess.
    So if you clean the toilet every day,
    You will become a beautiful woman, just like the goddess.’

    When I had grown a little older,
    I started fighting with my grandmother.
    Things weren’t going well with my family,
    And I had no where I could call home.

    I didn’t come home even during the holidays,
    I played around with my boyfriend.
    Gomoku chess and kamo-nanba soup,
    All disappeared from our lives.

    Why is it? That people hurt each other,
    They go on losing what’s important.
    I left my grandmother, who had always been my friend,
    And left home all alone.

    Two years had passed since I went to Tokyo,
    When my grandmother was hospitalized.
    I went to visit my grandmother,
    Who had lost weight and become frail.

    ‘Grandmother, I’m home!’ I said,
    Just like the old days.
    We only spoke for a little bit before
    She shooed me out with a ‘It’s time to go home.’

    The next morning my grandmother
    Passed quietly into her sleep.
    Just as if, just as if she had been waiting
    For me to return.
    Even though she had raised me right,
    Even though I never said thank you,
    Even though I was a horrible granddaughter,
    She waited for me.

    ‘Inside of the toilet
    There lives a beautiful goddess.’
    I wonder if my grandmother’s words
    Have made me beautiful?

    ‘Inside of the toilet
    There lives a beautiful goddess.
    So if you clean the toilet every day,
    You will become a beautiful woman, just like the goddess.’

    My dream had been
    To become a good-natured wife.
    So today alone again,
    I’ll clean that toilet sparkling.

    Grandmother.
    Grandmother.
    Thank you.
    Grandmother.
    Really.
    Thank you. ”

    - Uemura Kana, “Toire no Kamisama”

    I don’t think I need to even mention that I cried like a baby. My 91-year-old grandmother cleans the toilet everyday and she still is a beauty ;_;