Reading between the lines / Thinking twice about the Wildcat's words

Sugar and spice and all things nice, that's what good storybooks are made of. Snakes and snails and puppy dog tails, that's what good storybooks are also made of. But good storybooks have much more. They have plenty of adventure, friendship, humor and passion.

Every child's storybook is filled with its own culture's style and meaning. Best-selling Japanese storybooks are no different. They can provide us with a deeper sense of appreciation of what is, in many cases, "taken for granted" actions, attitudes and beliefs. Japan's rich and vibrant storybook industry has a lot to offer in the way of "cultural windows" on its people and traditions.

Storybooks, of course, are best read in their original language. However, much can be gained from a good translation. And the recent surge in English translations of Japan's best storybooks now makes it possible to open such windows.

In this column, we will introduce such top selling titles and by doing so hopefully help to build bridges of understanding.

We would like to tell you a little about each story, look at some of the translation difficulties and point out some cultural differences. Maybe even show you parts of the original and let you compare.

We would also like to arouse your interest and give you the incentive to pick up one of these titles and take off on your own trip into storyland.
In deference to our deceased mentor Kenji Miyazawa (1896-1933), we would like to start this column with our favorite Japanese children's story: Miyazawa's The Restaurant with Many Orders (Chumon no Oi Ryoriten). An English translation by us will be published in June this year by R.I.C. Publishing.

Miyazawa was only 25 years old in 1921 when he wrote this classic cautionary tale, set firmly in and around his hometown of Hanamaki, Iwate Prefecture. This is one of Miyazawa's best-known stories and it is the title he gave to the only book of short stories he published during his lifetime.

In the book, Miyazawa appraised this work in the following way: "(It)...reflects the strong and inevitable antipathy felt by hungry country children toward 'city-centered civilization' and the arrogant rich."
The story line centers on two "gentlemen" who, with their hunting dogs, travel to the countryside and hire a local guide for a day's sports shooting.

Wandering deep into the wilds they complain that there's no game to shoot, and they're hungry. To add insult to injury, their guide disappears and their hunting dogs drop dead. Suddenly, there appears a Western-style restaurant with the sign: "Restaurant Wildcat House."

Although they think it a bit strange to find such an establishment in the middle of the woods, they decide to enter. On the door they find the following words:

All are welcome! Feel free! All you can eat!
(Donata mo doka ohairi kudasai. Kesshite goenryo wa arimasen.)

From here on these two gentlemen enter the Wildcat's word trap.
Inside they find many hallways and doors. And on each door, is a sign for the guests. Written on the second door, for example, is:

Please acknowledge the fact that we are a restaurant with many orders.
(Token wa chumon no oi ryoriten desu kara do-ka soko wa goshochi kudasai.)

The two gentlemen take this sign to mean that this is a very popular restaurant with many customers and consequently, many orders. These well-educated gentlemen, for sure, can read the signs, but they badly misconstrue their real meaning.

The next signs ask them to do this and that, but it is not until they read the sign on the back of the sixth door, asking them to rub in salt all over their bodies that they finally realize that they are readying themselves to be eaten by the Wildcat.

They try to run out of the room, but the door won't open. Their faces crumple in fear. Worse still, they can see two blue pairs of eyes (the two servant cats' eyes) peering out from the key holes of the seventh door.
Just then, the two hunting dogs, the same two that had died, come charging into the room to save them. The hunters quickly buy some birds at the inn and return to Tokyo. However, their faces crumpled with terror never return to normal.

The most difficult part in translating this story was the word play or puns that Miyazawa plants in the signs, one example being the one on the front of the sixth door:

Dinner will be ready very soon. In no more than 15 minutes, you will be served.
(Ryori wa mosugu dekimasu. Jugofun to omatase wa itashimasen. Sugu taberaremasu.)

A direct translation of sugu taberaremasu could be either of the following: "soon, be able to eat" or "soon, be eaten." As you can see this sentence has no subject. So it is purposefully ambiguous.

We have attempted to translate this sentence in a similar word-play style by letting the reader decide which word to accent--"You will be SERVED" or "YOU will be served."

Translating this cautionary tale, we asked ourselves who exactly did Miyazawa intend this story of warning for. As he states in his appraisal, it is clear he had the city-centered, the arrogant and the rich in mind. But there is another group, intended or not, for which we think this warning should ring loud and clear: those who read signs, but fail to fully comprehend their meaning.

Are we not surrounded by a plethora of such signs in the media and in our environment, warning us of the grave state of Earth? Is it not high time we took heed and found our way out of this crisis? Of course this story can be enjoyed at many different levels, however, for us we could not help but feel a prophetic ring to this tale.

McNamara, a British-trained psychologist, is a lecturer at Kumamoto Prefectural University, while Howlett, born and raised in Hokkaido, teaches at Hakodate La Salle Junior and Senior High School. Their translation works include the "Guri and Gura" series.