Remember this - in the 1920's a Japanese Haiku master was invited to the United States for a tour to explain the subtleties of writing Haiku. But, not familiar with the "subtleties" of American thought, he carelessly said "Once you have learned the rules - there are no rules." And like Charles Shultz's Snoopy, Americans hear "Wah waa wuh waa.. there are no rules." So, unless we are reading a Japanese author's work in Japanese, it may be the translation that's lacking in substance.
First, yes—no translation can ever deliver the full, unfiltered experience of the original work. It's a four-dimensional task in a three-dimensional space and compromise is baked into the act. But that's not to say a compromised translation is without value. There may be loss in one dimension, but gain in another.
Second, reading always requires cooperation from the reader, very nearly as much as from the author herself. Even when rendered in English, "Once you have learned the rules—there are no rules," is a perfectly intelligible aphorism. Indeed, if I didn't know it was spoken carelessly in a second language, I might have assumed it was a carefully crafted English proverb. I'd suggest readers who misunderstand it do so willingly—they haven't done their due diligence in engaging with the text.
That said, you're right to suggest that we can't blindly assume a translation is perfectly faithful. But there still might be certain ways we can come to trust that it's generally capturing the spirit of a work. With Murakami especially, I've found that across a wide range of novels, essays, short stories—and through a number of different translators, each with somewhat different sensibilities—there's a remarkably consistent voice. It's unmistakably Murakami, no matter who's at the wheel. That doesn't guarantee we're getting everything, but it does give me a reasonable amount of confidence that they've captured something essential about the work, if not the entire panorama.
I think meaning is contained in paragraphs. But I'm sure Kendall has much to say on the "inability to communicate across cultures and languages" that seems to mark Japanese thought.
Hey thanks for the shout out! I'm shocked how much that little note blew up. For some context this was something that a professor said to me back in ~2006. It might have resonated with me so strongly because I was just an impressionable 20 year old at the time 😂
It's always the off-the-cuff things that end up surprising us with their reach, isn't it?
And hey—I was also an impressionable 20 year old getting into Murakami at the time, so I know exactly what you mean. Which makes sense, in a way. Murakami—and most works with that kind of almost "punk" ethos—are kind of a young man's game. Were I to pick up "Hard Boiled Wonderland" for the first time today, I doubt it would land for me the same way it did more than a decade ago. But maybe!
In any case, thanks for lending us a fun discussion!
Our pleasure — we’ll comment on anything of note, ideologically. He may have been right! But, as we said, maybe it doesn’t matter all that much?
Professors do have a way of saying edgy things that cement in our minds at that age. It’s a disproportionate influence: I’d like to smack 90% of the Philosophy 101 teachers in this country for selection bias in their bibliographies.
Reflecting back on my own experiences... I think I can confidently say I didn't have a single philosophy class as an undergrad that I would describe as even somewhat adequate. Probably one reason I got my ass handed to me in grad school seminars for a bit!
Remember this - in the 1920's a Japanese Haiku master was invited to the United States for a tour to explain the subtleties of writing Haiku. But, not familiar with the "subtleties" of American thought, he carelessly said "Once you have learned the rules - there are no rules." And like Charles Shultz's Snoopy, Americans hear "Wah waa wuh waa.. there are no rules." So, unless we are reading a Japanese author's work in Japanese, it may be the translation that's lacking in substance.
There are a few things to say to that, I think.
First, yes—no translation can ever deliver the full, unfiltered experience of the original work. It's a four-dimensional task in a three-dimensional space and compromise is baked into the act. But that's not to say a compromised translation is without value. There may be loss in one dimension, but gain in another.
Second, reading always requires cooperation from the reader, very nearly as much as from the author herself. Even when rendered in English, "Once you have learned the rules—there are no rules," is a perfectly intelligible aphorism. Indeed, if I didn't know it was spoken carelessly in a second language, I might have assumed it was a carefully crafted English proverb. I'd suggest readers who misunderstand it do so willingly—they haven't done their due diligence in engaging with the text.
That said, you're right to suggest that we can't blindly assume a translation is perfectly faithful. But there still might be certain ways we can come to trust that it's generally capturing the spirit of a work. With Murakami especially, I've found that across a wide range of novels, essays, short stories—and through a number of different translators, each with somewhat different sensibilities—there's a remarkably consistent voice. It's unmistakably Murakami, no matter who's at the wheel. That doesn't guarantee we're getting everything, but it does give me a reasonable amount of confidence that they've captured something essential about the work, if not the entire panorama.
Or even simpler: the rules kill, but the spirit gives life.
I think meaning is contained in paragraphs. But I'm sure Kendall has much to say on the "inability to communicate across cultures and languages" that seems to mark Japanese thought.
Hey thanks for the shout out! I'm shocked how much that little note blew up. For some context this was something that a professor said to me back in ~2006. It might have resonated with me so strongly because I was just an impressionable 20 year old at the time 😂
It's always the off-the-cuff things that end up surprising us with their reach, isn't it?
And hey—I was also an impressionable 20 year old getting into Murakami at the time, so I know exactly what you mean. Which makes sense, in a way. Murakami—and most works with that kind of almost "punk" ethos—are kind of a young man's game. Were I to pick up "Hard Boiled Wonderland" for the first time today, I doubt it would land for me the same way it did more than a decade ago. But maybe!
In any case, thanks for lending us a fun discussion!
<insert hulk meme> That's my secret: I'm always a punk. </meme>
My whole life is off the cuff, Kendall. So yes.
Clearly it was generative, Alex.
Our pleasure — we’ll comment on anything of note, ideologically. He may have been right! But, as we said, maybe it doesn’t matter all that much?
Professors do have a way of saying edgy things that cement in our minds at that age. It’s a disproportionate influence: I’d like to smack 90% of the Philosophy 101 teachers in this country for selection bias in their bibliographies.
Reflecting back on my own experiences... I think I can confidently say I didn't have a single philosophy class as an undergrad that I would describe as even somewhat adequate. Probably one reason I got my ass handed to me in grad school seminars for a bit!
How many of them mention the Summa? Or Plotinus or any of the neoplatonics?
How many give sufficient surveys of the modern philosophy of the mind?