On Manga, Mimetics and the Feeling of (Reading A) Language
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2017 | Capacious: Journal for Emerging Affect Inquiry 1 (1) CAPACIOUS On Manga, Mimetics and the Feeling of (Reading a) Language Toward a Situated Translational Practice Gretchen Jude UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA DAVIS Graphic novels, by combining images with printed words, engage readers in narrative experiences comparable to the immersive quality of cinema. The rich tradition of manga, Japan’s venerable and wide-ranging graphic narrative form, employs an array of graphical and linguistic strategies to engage readers, bodily as well as mentally and emotionally. Among these strategies, Japanese mimetics: a grammatical class of sound words, work efectively to transmit aural, tactile, and proprioceptive states. Yet most Japanese mimetics have no English equivalent and can only be expressed with phrase-length explanations or glosses; the somatic nature of mimetics thus resists translation. By grappling with the question of how to efectively express in English such translation-resistant linguistic forms, the author explores approaches to translation that attend to embodied and afective states such as those induced by mimetics. Experimental translational practices may thus attend to the afective and bodily-lived pressures felt when experiencing the in-between-ness of language(s). The structure of this paper accordingly follows the trajectory of a journey through (one reader’s) translation and translational practice. KEYWORDS Nomadic Translation, Manga, Scanlation, Mimetics, Nostalgia Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 (CC BY 4.0) capaciousjournal.com | DOI: https://doi.org/10.22387/cap2016.3 36 On Manga, Mimetics and the Feeling of (Reading a) Language The Conditions of Translation: My Story On the eve of my return to the U.S. after eight years in Tokyo, I went to a movie with my Japanese then-spouse. We both enjoyed the light nostalgic tone of "AL- WAYS " [ ]. Even more, I felt satisfed Sanchōme no Yūhi Always: Sunset on Third Street with how much of the dialogue I had been able to understand. I picked up the print version of the story right away; the movie, I was pleased to discover, was based on a long-running series. In the decade since my relocation back to my home manga country, Ryōhei Saigan's has become a mainstay of my Japanese Sanchōme no Yūhi language practice. Raised speaking Standard American English, I have never felt comfortable claim- ing to 'know' Japanese. Despite years of study and positive interactions, I remain insecure about my linguistic fuency—one look at a Japanese newspaper reminds me of how much I still don't (and may never) know. I am also conscious of how my own status as a white person comes up against Japanese national-racial iden- tity constructions. In any given context, I am reminded that I am defnitely 'not Japanese' even when Japanese friends kindly compliment me by calling me ‘more Japanese than’ themselves. On the other hand, living and working with Japanese people in Japanese contexts for nearly a decade changed me irrevocably. Inasmuch as I 'know Japanese'–by which I mean, I can function in Japanese-language contexts–I feel myself to be a diferent person than the one I was growing up in Idaho. These distinctions are distinctly felt ones, as I physically behave diferently depending on the context. Outside Japan, opening causes echoes of these physical states to Sanchōme no Yūhi resound through me. When I read, I feel simultaneously both aware of my own activity of reading a 'foreign' language and swept up in the enjoyment of being able to stand in as the text's (passing-as-Japanese) addressee. The pleasure of understanding is complexly kinesthetic and emotional, evoking not only awareness of the narrative progression but also of sounds (of a train echoing through the city, of noisy summer-night in- sects), smells (of smoking chicken fat), sensations (of humid night air, of feet numb from sitting on ) and emotions (closeness, nostalgia, longing, and loss). seiza tatami What often surprises me is how intense my emotions can be when I encounter such texts in Japanese, especially since I am usually so resistant to these feelings when I engage with American mass media objects. CAPACIOUS Gretchen Jude 37 From these embodied experiences, questions arise: how does the text continue to perform its efects on me, yet again reinscribing my relationship to Japaneseness (and all the places and people this signifes for me personally)? Indeed, how does a text me feel'? How to make the relevance of these feelings, relationships and 'make experiences clear in the cross-linguistic texts I produce? In short, I wish to inter- rogate the ways in which my interlanguage experience is a frmly embodied one. In this paper, I will explore how the manga form uses linguistic, narrative, and graphic strategies to evoke embodied reactions in readers. Translations of manga (and other Japanese texts) can be produced and received in ways that may poten- tially problematize and complicate schemas of national-cultural identity. I will examine one such practice, that of scanlation. Scanlators' communal, virtual sites of translation provide examples of a postmodern translational practice that stems from a diferent conceptualization of the modern (individual) translating subject. Finally, I will suggest alternatives to models of translation based on and reifying the national-cultural subject, alternatives based on Sakai's notion of subject in tran- (2006) and Braidotti's idea of the subject (2011). While my approach sit nomadic may be untenable for professional translators working in institutional contexts, this paper aims to suggest new sites and strategies for creative/imaginative work that may facilitate the next step into an as-yet-unimagined as-yet-unimagined future of translation. Making A Manga's Story Mine Ryōhei Saigan's work of short graphic fction " [" , Otsukimi no Yoru" Harvest Moon" lit. "Moon-viewing Evening"] revolves around young salaryman Yusuke Machi- da's encounter with audible yet unseen animals called . Puzzlingly called tanuki 'raccoon-dogs' in English, have a long association with Japanese folklore; tanuki Saigan here embeds their imputed magical powers in a story of loss and longing. The frst half of the story portrays idealized middle-class urban life in the heady years of Japan's post-war recovery; the central confict lies between the pressure to work, symbolized by the boss' expectation that Machida will spend his afterwork time playing (golf games set up for entertaining clients), and Machi- settai gorufu da's desire to enjoy some time with his family, in this case an evening of otsukimi (moon-viewing with food, drink, and socializing). The ironic pivot of this confict is encapsulated in the term , which combines the Sino-Japanese word kazoku sābisu for 'family' ( with the more recent loan from English 'service' ( ). The kazoku) sābisu Japanese businessman of this period was expected to support his family by working extremely long hours; turns these expectations around to include kazoku sābisu support of the family by (at least occasionally) being present with them. 38 On Manga, Mimetics and the Feeling of (Reading a) Language Machida drunk at the yakitori shop, , Ryōhei Saigan, 2005 Otsukimi no Yoru Another pivotal term in the narrative is (charcoal-grilled chicken on yakitori skewers). This tasty, casual dish is Machida's son Yūtaro's favorite. In the course of the story, Machida encounters the shop owner twice; both times, this yakitori denizen of (Tokyo's working class neighborhood) is the purveyor of shitamachi key information. During their frst meeting, he points out to Machida, and the reader, that the will surely be out in the green empty lots nearby, since tanuki there is a bright full moon. And in fact, as Machida walks home through this liminal urban space, the iconic sound of the drumming on their bellies tanuki rises up out of the chorus of summer insects. The happy scene is rounded out with Machida opening the door to his happy family, with whom he shares a lovely evening. These frames (in which there is no dialogue) exemplify the happy home of this time, with the symmetrical domestic space framed by the abundance of late-summer fruit, rice cakes and fowers; however, next to this image is a cine- CAPACIOUS Gretchen Jude 39 matic reverse-cut to the same abundance looking out over the moon shining on the noisy urban wilderness. The sound of the family laughing is juxaposed with the sound of insects and the , foreshadowing the turn in the narrative. tanuki A sense of domestic bliss, , Ryōhei Saigan, 2005 Otsukimi no Yoru In fact, the reversal is complete and devastating, as a disoriented Machida is awak- ened from his dream of domestic bliss by a kind police ofcer, only to fnd his yaki- devoured and his home a lonely mess. At last he remembers, his family had been tori killed in an accident the year before, and his vision of domestic bliss, only a memory. The denouement fnds Machida once again at the shop, this time sad and yakitori drunk; the similarity of his conversation with the shop owner only underlines the tragic diference in this scene. The shop owner explains the situation to another customer, flling in the details of Machida's tragically empty life. In the fnal scene, we fnd Machida again on the path through the abandoned lot, pleading with the (still-unseen) to once again take him back into his dream of the past; they tanuki remain silent, however, as an image of his wife and son appear in the moon. His tears remain as the pair happily exhort him to resume his ordinary life, yet, as their image fades, he smiles through the tears. In the last frame, the drumming tanuki sounds resume and Machida stands alone on the cusp of an unknown future.