Of translation, books, languages and me
上一次在部落格提到鋼筆淡彩是5月，現在都已經10月底了。時間實在是過得太快，有太多事情想做、想嘗試，但是真正能堅持下來的寥寥無幾。時間總是不夠用的。要活得充實，又想要有閒暇空檔真的不容易。不敢奢求做到每日一畫，但一月一畫還是挺困難的。我繼續努力。對我來說，鋼筆淡彩純屬興趣，所以儘量不想給自己壓力區達到某個目標。但另一方面，沒有目標也會讓我變得懶散哈哈。
我好像已經4個月沒有動筆了，希望之前微薄的手感還在哈哈。我沒有畫畫天份，只能加把勁用後天的努力補充。（： 附上6月的畫，臨摹@P林手繪的作品。很喜歡木梁掛著的風鈴，似乎從畫中能聽到風吹時風鈴叮噹叮噹響的旋律。小時候家裡有個附上海豚玩偶的風鈴，到現在我還記得。每次小心翼翼的觸碰風鈴，生怕打碎。
看到這幅畫，莫名想起日本郊外的火車站。希望疫情好轉，能再次去日本旅遊。
最近沒有看到特別想臨摹的作品，自己也不常拍照。疫情讓我變得比以前更宅，似乎忘了停下腳步觀察周遭環境，忘了活在當下的快樂。當初會想嘗試鋼筆淡彩是因為很喜歡這樣的畫風和色彩。
讓心靜下來，專注於每一筆每一畫，和每一處的顏色。
Learning Thai has made me very interested to find out more about the country, history and way of life. At my current beginner stage, I’m learning how to ask for prices and asking for directions, and the textbooks I’m using doesn’t provide much information too. So I’ve turned to media and entertainment, and more recently, I’m on a lookout for good English novels on Thailand and Thai translated fiction, seeing how I can’t read Thai novels yet. I regretted starting on Korean and Japanese translated fiction way too late into learning the language, as I’ve gained so much knowledge and that was different from simply reading non-fiction books on history/culture.
A Good True Thai by Sunisa Manning was a random find in the library and I’m so glad I picked it up. Set in the 1970s against the backdrop of Thailand’s democracy movement, the novel follows the friendship, love and political activism of three young friends: Dek, of noble blood; Chang, a smart boy from the slums; and Lek, a Chinese immigrant with radical ideals.
The novel explores various themes such as class and privilege as the three friends each hold on to their political ideals of how to enact change in their country and at times clash because of their differing views and backgrounds. I love how nuanced the characterisations are, and that many times, it’s more complicated than discerning right from wrong. Hope and helplessness exist in tandem in the novel as the three friends struggle in face of backlash and fear of repercussions, but yet their fierce conviction and fighting spirit keep them going, even when they have to make the difficult decision to leave their family to enter the forests to join the Communists.
It is a compelling read and I only wished that I had started early in the morning so that I can read it in one sitting. I love how the novel does not over-explain, nor translate, and a lot of times, I find myself googling the cultural, socio-political and historical contexts and reference to names, events etc. This makes me engage more actively with the story, and also with the historical and cultural background of Thailand.
There’s a lot going on in the novel, and sometimes it’s hard to balance between focusing on the characters and their stories vs the larger historical backdrop. Yet, the novel manages to weave them together in a sweeping tale.
Definitely a recommended read for those who want to find out more about Thailand.
I am regrettably much ignorant about Southeast Asian history, despite being born and raised in this part of the world. I knew next to nothing about Thailand’s history and I hope that with every book I read, that can change.
Get it at Epigram.
I’m Waiting For You and Other Stories comprise of two pairs of stories from Korean science fiction writer Kim Bo-young, translated by Sophie Bowman and Sung Ryu. In the title story I’m Waiting for You (tr. Sophie Bowman), a man writes a series of letters to his fiancee, as both of them undertake their separate journeys in the galaxy, making use of the concept of relativity, to return to Earth at the same time to get married. His journey gets increasingly difficult as the delays in the galactic journey costed him years on Earth and he battles isolation and the losing hope of ever reuniting with his fiancee. On My Way to You (tr. Sophie Bowman), the last story, complements it perfecting with his fiancée’s own galactic journey. In contrast to his lonely journey, she is always travelling with others, but we learn that isolation in the midst of company is sometimes much harder to bear.
Family’s not a big deal, you know. When it comes to family, you can always make a new one. That’s why the world has this great thing called marriage. (…) I’ll become four times more your family than your first family was.
On My Way to You
This is my personal favourite line in the book. I’ve never thought of marriage this way and it makes me wonder if I’ll meet someone who can be that family for me 🙂
While in essence a love story, I love how it also deals with several philosophical questions on time and space. Is the concept of time and space tied together, and if we return to the same space years later, can we say that it’s the same place which we left?
It feels like a fitting read in the midst of the pandemic, where we are isolated from the places we want to go and people we wish to meet again. Time seem to fly by faster than I can remember, and when we finally return to (some form of) normalcy, are we really in the same space which we left behind pre-COVID?
Nestled in between is the second pair of stories The Prophet of Corruption and That One Life (tr, Sung Ryu), where we are introduced to the world of godlike beings, where everything on Earth (and Earth itself) is their creation and extension of their will. The afterlife is being positioned as the “reality”, as we learn that The Lower Realm (Earth) is just a place that the beings reincarnate over and over again as part of their learning. During their time on Earth, they forget about their true selves, but when they go back to The Dark Realm, they retain all the memories (learnings) on Earth. This pair of stories is a harder read, given that it deals with philosophy, mythology and in some aspects, religion. I marvel at the stellar translation (which didn’t feel like one) and I could only imagine how difficult it must have been to deal with the abstract concepts and the pronouns.
It’s interesting that the two stories are sandwiched in the middle. I was swept away by the emotions in the first story, and in the next two, I find myself thinking about how minute human life is in this vast galaxy, and perhaps, somewhere, there could really be higher beings out there. Perhaps all that we felt so keenly, all that we held in utmost importance, is probably nothing but a passing moment to them. But that doesn’t mean that what we feel are not real. And in the last story, I felt that the author is trying to tell us that even a past memory can be real to us in the present moment. I’m not sure if I’m “getting” the stories right, but that was my interpretation and takeaway.
Reading the stories feels like watching a breathtaking movie, one that I will go back to time and again. I’m so glad that the readers are given an extra gift at the back, in the form of notes from the author, translators and the original readers of the pair of stories (I’m Waiting For You and On My Way to You).
In the author’s notes, Kim writes about the initial inspirations for the stories. I was surprised to find out that I’m Waiting for You was commissioned by a fan who wanted a story he could use to propose to his girlfriend. I wouldn’t have imagined it be a proposal story (and how romantic is that!) but reading the notes made me look at the story in a new light and now I can see how perfect it is for the occasion. It is also lovely to see the couple’s notes on both stories and it adds another layer to my own interpretation.
The translators’ notes are my favourite part of the book! I love how the notes take the form of several exchanges of letters (mirroring the format of two of the stories!), where they discuss their translation approaches. It offers some much appreciated insight to what goes into the translation process and how it is like for them, to work on stories on isolation, longing and hope in the midst of a pandemic. The friendship is just so sweet. The correspondences draw several parallels between the stories and their lives and it is so nice to see them discuss their interpretations and how they breathe life into the translations. It definitely contributes to the whole experience of reading the book 🙂
Get it at Harper Voyager.
Ghost stories never felt more human and satisfying.
The collection of short stories by Matsuda Aoko, translated by Polly Barton, is (true to its name) wildly fun to read. Each story is a contemporary retelling of a Japanese traditional ghost story, with a feminist twist.
I didn’t know two-thirds of the ghost stories before reading the book, so it was very helpful that the book lists the inspiration for each story and and I found myself googling more about them either before or reading the stories.
Most of the women in the Japanese traditional ghost stories met with a sad or cruel ending, with their ghost selves portrayed as vengeful and spiteful spirits. So it was downright satisfying to see them retold in a contemporary setting, where the ghosts are portrayed as real people with personalities, perhaps even freer than the living to live out their (after)lives, without the shackles and restraints placed on them by society. While Matsuda’s stories take inspiration from the traditional tales, she re-creates them, and the ghosts are given a new lease of life, and for some, a much more happier one.
The similarities between her stories and the women in the traditional tales is also a reflection of the roles of women in society, and how little (at times) it has changed even in the contemporary society, although the different endings offer some hope of changes.
Slight spoilers ahead.
Each story is really short, some spanning only a couple of pages, and it leaves the reader wanting more. I love the open endings, and it feels like without a proper ending, the ghosts live on, just like humans do. There’s an air of mystery in the individual stories, as the readers are left wondering what happens. The air of mystery shrouds the entire book, when it becomes apparent in the title story (Where the Wild Ladies are) in the middle of the book that the stories are actually linked. We are introduced to a mysterious company run by an equally mysterious character, Mr Tei. While there are some hints dropped here and there in the book, the readers are not quite privy to what exactly is the company doing, or who exactly is Mr Tei.
I was very pleasantly surprised by how the stories are linked, and it made me do a double-back to re-read the stories in front in order to try to form the larger picture. It’s a futile attempt though. The sense of mystery is consistent throughout the book, where at times, we are given very little information about the characters and their connection to the mysterious company. Just when the characters and stories grow on me, it’s time to bade them goodbye. It leaves me wanting for more, and I find myself thinking back about the curious stories and the people(ghosts).
I absolutely love the feminist twists in the stories and the stories draw attention to the roles / stereotypes of women, and the ghosts are inspirations to the modern women as they break free of the shackles of society and the living.
My personal favourite has to be A Fox’s Life where Kazuha has been told from young that she resembles a fox and while she is brilliant, she is uncomfortable outshining her male peers in school, given her observations that people turn a cold shoulder to women who stood out. She ends up in an administrative job where her talents at tea-making and spotting mistakes in her male colleagues’ work is complimented, given that they see no threat from a woman in her ‘rightful’ role. She wonders at the unjust of society, where men should be pitied for needing to pretend to be capable of doing things they couldn’t, and women had to pretend to be incapable of work that they could do.
Get the collection of stories at Soft Skull Press (US) | Tilted Axis Press (UK)
Shoko’s Smile: Stories, a collection of seven long-ish short stories, is Korean writer’s Choi Eunyoung‘s English debut, deftly and beautifully translated by Sung Ryu. I’m only on my fourth story, but already, I’m dying to write about how much I love it.
Shoko’s Smile: Stories is one of those books that I want to share with everybody, but at the same time, part of me wants to keep it as a hidden gem. I see myself in all the four stories that I’ve read thus far, and it’s taking a lot of restraint on my part not to highlight almost the whole book. So many parts where I found myself nodding, and feeling the same emotions as the characters inside. I bought the e-book version, so I feel very liberated to do all the annotations and highlighting I want without thinking about sullying the book! 🙂
There’s something magical about Choi’s stories, brought to life in English by Sung Ryu. It felt like the book saw through me on so many levels, and there were many moments in the books where I thought I saw myself in the characters – a similar moment in my past, my thoughts, the deepest and, sometimes, darkest ones). While I read pretty fast in general, I’m taking my time with this book, partly because it takes me a couple of days to fully digest the stories, and my own memories/past that the story awakened. I had to unpack and digest that as well.
The language used (at least in the English version) is simple and plain – no flowery and convoluted metaphors, no dreadfully pretentious bombastic vocabulary, nothing too abstract. Yet, it gets me right in the heart (gut). I’ve come to the conclusion that both of them are probably keen observers of life, because I have no idea how else they can write (and translate) some of these moments/thoughts that I feel (and struggle to put in words) in such simple, plain and effective language. I’m in awe, really.
Each story forces me to confront a part of myself and I find that oddly comforting and liberating. It’s as if the book helped me put in words, or to realise, what I’ve been feeling (deep down).
I thought of writing a review for the entire book, but my thoughts on Shoko’s Smile (the first story) is fast becoming a convoluted mess of thoughts that I thought I’ll put it out here first. Yes, and to encourage you to get the book sooner than later 🙂
There will be some spoilers in the review below, so if you are looking for a non-spoiler version, please do not read beyond the line break.
Get it from Penguin Random House.
I found myself in the title story Shoko’s Smile and there were so much that I could relate to. To me, the story was centred on the raw and vulnerable sides of being human and the desperate desire to upkeep an appearance of normalcy despite it all. We try hard to mask ourselves, but yet fail to see that others are also doing the same and we continue to judge them for who they are on the surface.
Soyu’s vulnerability and her need to feel that odd sense of superiority over her friends and peers stood out to me. It’s not a great trait, but instead of despising her for it, I felt that I could empathise with her and I found it oddly comforting to have a character that felt so.. human. While we don’t like to admit it, I think this is true that instead of recognising our own vulnerabilities, we (sometimes) try to cover for it by revelling in a warped sense of superiority and feeling the need to feel justified and comforted that our choices are “better” than the others.
Another part that stood out for me was when at the start, the readers are told Shoko always said “someday”. It foreshadowed that Shoko would not be able to achieve any of those goals set out, but the readers are in for a surprise when it turned out that Shoko did achieve them in her own way and pace, even though the road was not smooth.
It seemed to me that the strangest of strangers were family.
Soyu, the narrator of the story, found herself bewildered by the positive ‘change in characters’ of her usually socially awkward, lethargic grandfather and mother at the arrival of Shoko, a visiting student from Japan who would be their homestay guest for two weeks. Her feelings of hurt and slight resentment mixed with jealousy felt so real to me, and it reminded me that it was also jarring to see my own family (and perhaps myself) behaving in a much nicer way to strangers and outsiders. It felt so frustrating to see that I’m the only one seeing the ugly side of things (and people) while everyone’s else would be saying “wow your family is so nice / you’re so lucky”. But now that I think of it, family is the only place where we can be unreserved in unleashing our rawest self, and that is something that is fortunate and unfortunate at the same time.
I found myself somewhere in the story, and oddly, I feel very comforted by it.
It’s definitely gonna be a story that I will return to every now and then.
Get it from Penguin Random House.
