Reading above the lines

Last week, I was reviewing the paper I presented at the InTO MANGA conference back in January. That paper looks at how Saito deals with and takes advantage of the differences between the source and target media in adapting Torikaebaya monogatari, using various examples I’ve discussed to at least some extent on the blog. But I noticed one thing that I only bring up briefly in the paper and have barely mentioned on the blog either. So today, I’d like to set that straight and talk about furigana!

Furigana or “ruby” are the small characters that appear above or beside (depending on whether the text is horizontal or vertical) full-size kanji or sometimes letters of the alphabet, telling the reader how the word should be pronounced. Whether they appear or not usually depends on how reasonable it is to expect that the reader would know the pronunciation without assistance. Material intended for younger readers tends to feature more furigana, because they’re still learning, but on the other hand, works for adults are also more likely to include obscure terminology that require furigana because people without specialist knowledge wouldn’t know it. In manga, the use of furigana generally depends on the target demographic, and even though Flowers is aimed at a readership of mainly grown women, it stays true to its shōjo roots by having furigana on all kanji except in handwritten text.

Panel from volume 1, page 133.

©Chiho Saito／Shogakukan

Another important thing about furigana in manga (also light novels, science fiction, etc) is that it’s very often used for non-standard readings. This phenomenon, called gikun (義訓), takes a few different forms, but basically it allows the writer to associate two words: maybe a rare kanji or neologism needs a phonetic explanation, or conversely a foreign or made-up word needs the semantic value of kanji to lend a hand, or maybe the writer wants to just signal some sort of double meaning. I did bring up this phenomenon once on the blog, when I mentioned the use of おとこ as furigana for both 男 and 天狗 to tie together the concepts of “man” and “tengu” in Suiren’s mind.

The main reason I haven’t said much about this before is because I’ve been more focused on techniques that strike me as unusual, but actually, there are some notable creative uses of furigana in Torikae baya. One case is similar to the previous example. In Episode 4, Sara laments that the world is so starkly divided between 陰 and 陽 – yin and yang – leaving no room for someone who is both yin and yang, and neither yin nor yang. And if you’re thinking the notions of neitherness/bothness and yin/yang point towards an additional meaning, you’d be right! When the kanji are first used in this passage, they are not glossed as いん and よう as they normally would be, and otherwise are, but instead as 女 (female) and 男 (male) respectively. The furigana allows that double meaning to take centre stage and initiate an ongoing theme.

Most often, though, Saito uses gikun readings to inject a bit of a classical vibe into dialogue without breaking the flow. In many cases, footnotes or sidenotes in the gutters are the only way to properly explain the meaning of specialist vocabulary, but there are also times when furigana is sufficient for introducing a fun archaism. For example, when Togu learns that Sara and Suiren have switched places, she uses the classical Japanese phrase 興あり glossed as おもしろい (intriguing, amusing). Elsewhere, when the ladies are fawning over Tsuwabuki in Episode 2, one remarks that she might send him a 文, an older word for a letter which is disambiguated with furigana reading ラブレター, a distinctly modern loan word from “love letter”.

There isn’t always a clear solution when it comes to translating these – often the best I can do is try to make it sound similarly archaic and add a footnote of my own to explain what was originally there. An example I actually talked about recently during a translation workshop is うつけ, which is glossed as 馬鹿者 (fool, idiot) when Sara uses it shortly after first meeting Tsuwabuki. Part of what makes this one tricky is that it then comes up semi-regularly during the series. Since attention is brought to this being an uncommon word, that makes me want to translate it consistently, but my first attempt at this (“dolt”) didn’t end up working nearly so well for some of the later uses of うつけ – including but not limited to an instance that’s immediately followed by “I’m having your baby!”

One answer might be to highlight the unusual words by just transliterating them rather than coming up with an English equivalent, but then they’d be much more unusual in English than they sound in Japanese. I’d also really prefer to avoid ending up with a “you are my nakama and nothing will fucking change that” kind of translation. As a result, I don’t quite have an answer yet, but these furigana tricks definitely open some interesting cans of worms!

Summary and observations on Volume 10: Machinations and calculations

Volume 10 distinguishes itself from most previous volumes by explicitly taking place over a limited period of time. We begin fairly soon after Tango no Sekku – which occurs on the 5th day of the 5th month – Togu reveals that she plans to step down after a ceremony at the end of the 6th month, and this volume ends before that has happened. So that means that a lot needs to fit into six or seven weeks!

Sara and Ginkaku.

Panel from volume 10, page 48. ©Chiho Saito／Shogakukan

Much of the excitement involves the arrival of Ginkaku and Yuzuru, and Sara’s efforts to find evidence of Ginkaku’s misdeeds. Yuzuru, as we heard last time, is a little-known prince whom Shikibu-kyo no Miya has proposed as a potential new Togu. And when he attends court for his first audience with the Emperor, followed closely by the monk Ginkaku – his other political backer – it turns out that Yuzuru is a young boy. Sara, who is sure that Ginkaku is the same monk he overheard cursing a protective amulet in Kurama, is tasked with training the clueless Yuzuru until he is fit for the job of Togu. Despite Sara’s suspicions about Ginkaku, it appears that Yuzuru and Shikibu-kyo are only pawns in the monk’s plot, and Sara becomes something of a parental figure to Yuzuru, an orphan.

Throughout, Sara has to deal with being closer to the Emperor than ever as his naishi no kami. As I mentioned previously, working as the Emperor’s naishi no kami was a popular route to his bed, and in these chapters, the Emperor is perfectly happy for everyone to assume this is exactly what is going on. This bothers Sara, but when he realises that Ginkaku sees him as a threat, he decides to plant a rumour himself that “Suiren” (as nearly everyone knows Sara) is pregnant. The Emperor is initially angry, assuming this means Sara is sleeping with someone else, but then even more openly flirtatious after learning it was a ploy.

The ploy nearly works, but ultimately backfires: Ginkaku anonymously tries to poison Sara, then bribes one of Sara’s attendants to terminate the alleged pregnancy (by pushing him off this kind of bridge). Sara doesn’t manage to show the poison to the Emperor, and that attendant tells Ginkaku that Sara has a suspicious scar. Ginkaku combines this knowledge with some information from the bitter Umetsubo, and concludes that “Suiren” used to be “Sara”…

While all this is going on, Sara contacts Yoshino no Miya. Yoshino is shocked to hear the intrigue, as Ginkaku is someone who played a major role in getting him expelled from the capital years before. He therefore seeks out Suiren, who is living in minor exile herself in Ashiya, under the name Fujiwara no Tsukimitsu. Suiren is unwilling to return to Heian-kyo while she might still harm Togu’s reputation, but she does go to Kurama in search of evidence. And around the same time Ginkaku is threatening to reveal Sara’s big secret, Suiren finds an extremely evil-looking demon skull – but can she get it to the capital?

Other observations in this volume, which got me triangulating a lot of things:

• Togu’s imminent retirement puts San no Hime in a tough spot, since an ex-Togu has no naishi no kami. One option is to follow Sara and becomes the Emperor’s naishi no kami – she was, after all, quite open about her desire to “produce” a future Togu herself. In the time since, however, she has become very attached to Togu, and now that she feels the Emperor has abandoned her, she has gone off him completely. As a result, she no longer sees Sara as a love rival.

• I mentioned that Yuzuru is a young boy, but how young? I’d estimate that he’s younger than the current Togu was when she was instated, given his innocence and inability to quite understand what title he’s been given (親王 – imperial prince). I had thought Togu had to be between 9 and 12 when she began, since the scandal that probably led to her birth was ほんの十数年前 (“only” ten-plus years ago) in Year 18. But I was recently re-reading Episode 13, where she says she previously met Yoshino ten years earlier. Yoshino is surprised she remembers, so it would have to be an early memory, but she does specifically recall his premonition that she would become Togu, so I doubt it happened before she was, say, 3. All of this to say that I think her starting age (in Year 16) must be at the very top end of my previous estimate, making her 12 or even 13. And Yuzuru is therefore… 9? 10?

• Related to that, we learn some more about that scandal. Yoshino and Ginkaku both studied in China, and it was Ginkaku’s jealousy over the Chinese Emperor’s esteem for Yoshino that then led him to encourage rumours about Yoshino and Suzakuin’s wife. This is one point where the timeline vis-à-vis real-world history doesn’t quiiite add up. Yoshino was apparently a kentoshi (遣唐使), an envoy during the Tang dynasty (up to 907 CE – the last missions there were even earlier) and he specifies that it was the Tang Emperor who liked him, but Ginkaku went to China during the Song dynasty (from 960 CE). Yoshino probably isn’t old enough for that kind of time gap, and he surely isn’t old enough if people are reading The Tale of Genji (written in the early 11th century). If the “Tang” term was being used in a generic sense for China in general, it might’ve worked, but these specific details make it a definite anachronism. On the bright side, this hazy sense of Yoshino’s personal history lends the character another layer of mystique!

• At the same time, we get some new details about the imperial line. When Togu first talked about Yoshino in Episode 12, she said he’d been the third-in-line to Suzakuin’s predecessor. He later described himself as Suzakuin’s cousin. Now, when he speaks about Ginkaku, he refers to Suzakuin’s predecessor by the name Anraku (安楽) and specifies that he was Suzakuin’s father. Also, when Shikibu-kyo first brought up Yuzuru’s name in Episode 45, the Emperor knew Yuzuru to be the son of Sadayori (貞頼), the eighth prince of Kyogoku (京極), one more Emperor back before Suzakuin. Quite where Yuzuru fits in would depend on how Kyogoku and Anraku were related – remember that it doesn’t have to be father-son – but it’s clear that he’s far from the frontline in terms of potential successors. When I made the character chart recently, I couldn’t fit in every connection, but since then I’ve been thinking it might at least be useful to try and recreate the imperial family tree to go along with that chart and the timeline – so maybe that will happen at some point!

Digression: Keeping track of time in Torikae baya

Something I’ve been doing as I’ve worked through the translation is noting indications of the passage of time in Torikae baya. The story takes place over several years, and while some of the jumps forward are made quite clear, there are other subtler indications too, and I want to make sure there’s nothing I’m missing! I’ll say a bit today about how much time has passed in the series so far and what kind of details I’ve looked at, but if you just want the basics, you can also take a look at the new timeline page I put together!

First, when does this take place? The original Torikaebaya monogatari was probably written in the late Heian or early Kamakura period, and the setting for the story is definitely some point in the Heian period. There have been a couple of times where I got into rabbit holes trying to work out exactly when the manga could be set based on things like dates of historical eclipses. I even concluded at one point that it wasn’t chronologically possible, because there are references to Yoshino no Miya having been on a mission to Tang China, but it’s also made clear that The Tale of Genji already exists.

The end result of all this is that I don’t really know! Maybe the Tang reference is just outdated terminology for the time period, or maybe the timing really isn’t intended to be very specific.

But at least on a closer level, we can work out some details about the timeline! Early on, it’s made quite clear how much time passes: the story starts with Sara and Suiren being born, the major kidnapping incident takes place six years later, and the discussions about Fujiwara no Marumitsu’s son taking a job at court begin when the siblings are almost 14 – time for becoming an adult, as far as everyone in this setting is concerned. The next clear indication of characters’ ages comes in Episode 6, when we hear that Shi no Hime – 19 years old – is three years Sara’s senior. Otherwise, we generally have to rely on other clues.

I want to come back to the point about coming of age though. It’s worth noting that Sara and Suiren are pretty young, at least by the standards a lot of us would expect. This also applies to other characters. Tsuwabuki mentions once that he is 18, and soon afterwards he says that Sara is still 16 at that point, so they’re just two years apart. We don’t know Nanten no Togu’s age, but she’s noted as seeming like a child despite her astuteness, so it’s probably fair to assume she isn’t too far away from Sara and Suiren’s age.

Production sketches of characters from volume 1, page 150.

©Chiho Saito／Shogakukan

There are no in-text references to the age of Sara and Suiren’s parents, but there are some sketches included between chapters in Volume 1 that can help. There’s a sketch of Marumitsu, supposedly around 22 years old, and I think it’s fair to assume that’s as of when the siblings are born. There are also drawings of his wives, with Higashi no Ue (Suiren’s mother) at 25 years old and Nishi no Ue (Sara’s mother) at 18. This aligns quite well with the ages at which Sara and Suiren are entering adult life: if they can start working at 14 and get married at 16, it’s not so bizarre that they’d be having children somewhere around 20.

And as for other signs of the passage of time, we can look at details like seasonal events. The komahiki that takes place in Episode 2 is supposed to have been an August event, so it must be within the first few months of Sara entering the work force. The fact that the changing of the Emperors is specified to take place at New Year also helps set up the chronology of some of what follows.

After that, another thing I found myself looking at obsessively was flowers. Around the time of Sara’s marriage to Shi no Hime and Suiren starting her job as naishi no kami, we know that not much time has passed since New Year, because we see snow and because there’s a plum blossom party at the palace with the appearance of a notably unseasonable butterfly. In the next couple of chapters, there are frequent mentions of the cherry blossoms – showing that spring has come – and even more specific points like how far into the season it is, and the appearance of wisteria which typically comes just after.

I won’t write out everything that I’ve considered with respect to the timeline, but I promise there’s a lot! Again, please do check out the timeline page if you want to get a quick idea of what happens when – and I’ll be keeping it updated too!

Thoughts from Episode 2: Beauties and Cuties

This week’s post looks at the second chapter of Torikae baya, and some thoughts about aesthetics and vocabulary choices.

Episode 2 opens with Sara and Suiren at the age of 14, going through their genpuku and mogi ceremonies respectively – in the afterword of volume 3, Saito points out that these specifically gendered rites are the predecessors of the modern-day Seijin no Hi. These are attended by Marumitsu’s slightly more angular brother Kakumitsu, and the brothers’ father, who doesn’t have a catchy individual name, so I’ve been calling him Fujiwara Senior in the translation so far (and Jijimitsu in my head!). Kakumitsu and Fujiwara are both clueless about Sara and Suiren’s secret, with Kakumitsu musing that Sara would make a great son-in-law and Fujiwara believing that Suiren’s beauty will catch the eye of even the Emperor. We also learn around this point that Sara and Suiren have even more names, with Marumitsu saying that Sara will “borrow” the name of Fujiwara no Tsukimitsu from Suiren and “lend” Suiren the name Suzushiko.

Next, Sara goes for his first day at work. The Emperor is so impressed that he immediately gives Sara a new job as his chamberlain (侍従). Sara begins to worry once he learns that nobody else at court is like him, but otherwise, everything is going well for him at work. On the day of the komahiki ceremony, we’re introduced to Colonel Tsuwabuki, another popular young man at court. When Sara manages to be even more impressive and dashing than him, Tsuwabuki chases him down to announce that the two are now to be best buddies, and that he hears Sara has an identical sister (😉) he’d like to meet.

How to make friends as a young gentleman in the Heian period.

Panels from volume 1, page 76. ©Chiho Saito／Shogakukan

Something that might strike you here is that everyone is beautiful! This is partly down to the art style, but it’s also something that comes up constantly in the dialogue. Old Man Fujiwara compares Suiren’s beauty to the mythical Princess Kaguya; meanwhile, young men like Sara and Tsuwabuki are also regarded as beautiful. I try not to translate 美しい (utsukushii) as “beautiful” every single time, but even if I don’t, the word still comes up a lot.

This reflects the Heian court’s preoccupation with beauty in various forms: aesthetic appeal, but also good taste and manners. We’ll see more examples of what Ivan Morris called the Heian court’s cult of beauty throughout the series, with Sara and the men being accomplished musicians and poets, and Suiren and Nanten no Togu being avid readers. This is what we know mattered to the ruling class, and it’s also what a lot of people today will be expecting from art related to the Heian period. Basically, it’s obvious that everyone should be beautiful in a Heian court romance!

But while I’ve mostly been thinking about 美しい so far, that isn’t the only way that people are described. We see all kinds of different terms, and although most of them seem reasonable enough in a piece of historical fiction, there’s one that seems to stick out: かわいい (kawaii). It’s not as if this is actually too modern, but it feels like it is – especially when it’s repeatedly followed with a little heart symbol. There’s some sense of deliberate anachronism that overrides my instinct to avoid translating it as “cute” in a historical setting. For example:

We see a closeup of SARA, then the reaction of the COURT LADIES.

SARA                                    [thinking] Tsuwabuki no Kimi?

LADY 1                                Oh, look! Sarasoju no Kimi is here!

LADY 2                                What a cutie! ❤

TSUWABUKI glances at SARA, who is taken by surprise. In the background, the LADIES are still excited.

A LADY                               [aside] ❤

Obviously, the manga isn’t actually written in classical Japanese, but it’s interesting to see these points that seem to draw attention to the fact that it’s in modern Japanese. Another example that stands out is in the next chapter, when one of Tsuwabuki’s friends uses the obviously post-1990s word 萌える (moeru). I’ll have to write a whole other blog post about “moe” at some point, but what I want to say for now is that this, like the other little anachronistic dialogue moments, serves to make the characters more relatable. A lot of the time, they use archaic expressions or structures that situate them in the past, but when they describe the beauty around them in the same way that a reader might describe the beauty of the manga art, it feels like they aren’t so far away.