{"id":897,"date":"2021-10-07T19:26:28","date_gmt":"2021-10-07T10:26:28","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/?p=897"},"modified":"2022-02-28T10:39:04","modified_gmt":"2022-02-28T01:39:04","slug":"what-i-talk-about-when-i-talk-about-translating-the-literature-of-murakami-haruki","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/essays-en\/897","title":{"rendered":"What I Talk About When I Talk About Translating the Literature of Murakami Haruki"},"content":{"rendered":"<p style=\"text-align: left;\">In conjunction with the opening of The Haruki Murakami Library at Waseda University, a series of essays was commissioned entitled Encountering Haruki Murakami. These essays will allow people involved in various ways with Murakami to talk about their encounters and connections with his works and his world.<br \/>\nThe first in the series is this essay by Lin Shaohua, Murakami\u2019s principal translator into Chinese. As mentioned in his essay, the sheer number of people who have encountered Murakami\u2019s work in Chinese through his translations is staggering\u2014in fact, it represents the biggest non-Japanese community of Murakami readers. Indeed, it\u2019s a community of which I am also a member, as I read my first Murakami work in 2002: Professor Lin\u2019s translation of Norwegian Wood. I walked with Watanabe and Naoko through Yotsuya and Komagome, spent an early autumn afternoon drinking beer with Midori, discussed literature with Nagasawa in the Wakeijuku dormitory&#8230;these images and incidents swelled in my imagination, and from that moment on, I became a devoted Murakami fan. It has been almost twenty years now since then, but I still remember how I felt then as if it were yesterday.<br \/>\nSo, without further ado, let\u2019s hear what Professor Lin has to say about his process and experiences translating Murakami!<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right;\">Quan Hui (Editorial Director, Waseda International House of Literature)<\/p>\n<h2 style=\"text-align: center;\"><strong>What I Talk About When I Talk About Translating Murakami<\/strong><br \/>\n<strong>\u6797\u5c11\u83ef\/ Lin Shaohua<\/strong><\/h2>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">It might sound like a boast, but I swear it\u2019s no lie: I am considered the world\u2019s preeminent translator of Haruki Murakami. \u201cPreeminent,\u201d of course, does not indicate the extraordinary quality or excellence of my translations themselves\u2014rather, it indicates the fact that it is through my translations that the most people in the world who do not read Japanese read Murakami. To be more specific, the forty-four Murakami books I\u2019ve translated number about thirteen million five hundred thousand copies printed as of December 2020; based on a statistic I read somewhere that each published copy of a book ends up read by an average of four people, that would mean that over 54 million Chinese people have read Murakami in my translation. This is a number to rival that of any other author whose work is translated from Japanese\u2014or from any other non-Chinese language, for that matter. There are many things I might want to talk about relating to this, but for now, I\u2019d like to share a few things that come to mind when I think about translation itself.<\/p>\n<p><strong>1.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">First of all, I am not actually a professional translator. I am a faculty member at a university, and my primary focus is the comparative study of Japanese and Chinese classical poetry. One day, a senior colleague in Beijing who specializes in modern Japanese literature approached me and said, \u201cWould you be interested in translating Murakami\u2019s Norwegian Wood? I think the style would suit you.\u201d They were rather insistent, so I decided to give it a shot. In this sense, my encounter with Murakami\u2019s work was a bit of a coincidence, or even pure chance\u2014but as it turned out, it was also destiny.<br \/>\n\u3000\u3000The fact is, I\u2019ve now translated many other Japanese authors, including Natsume S\u014dseki, Akutagawa Ry\u016bnosuke, Tanizaki Jun\u2019ichir\u014d, Kawabata Yasunari, Mishima Yukio and so on, but the author whose style suits me most is definitely Murakami. I frequently feel as though there\u2019s a secret, personal tunnel linking me directly to him through his prose; elements in his work call out to me emotionally and resonate deep within me. In other words, I feel as though as a translator, I am part of a trinity with the reader and the original text, all of us breathing the same air.<br \/>\n \u3000I\u2019m sure there are many people who would be able to convey the stories told in Murakami\u2019s works perfectly well, but, if I may say so myself, I do not think there are many who would be able to translate his style like I can. Indeed, the Shanghai Translation Publishing House that puts out his works seems to recognize this subtle distinction, and they have entrusted all his works to me; readers, too, seem to respond well to my work and follow it diligently. It fills me with so much satisfaction and happiness. I\u2019d like to thank Murakami\u2019s literature for providing such an opportunity to me. It\u2019s so wonderful that this literature exists in the world, and that the work of translation exists. This is the first thing I\u2019d like to say here regarding my translations of the works of Murakami Haruki.<\/p>\n<p><strong>2.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">I\u2019m frequently asked in interviews and by readers via letters or the internet why Murakami\u2019s literature is such a hit in China. I think there are three main reasons for this. The first is that the stories themselves are fresh and interesting. The second is that there\u2019s a subtle intimacy about his work that is able to touch and resonate deeply within a reader\u2019s heart. And third, I think his style is unique, possessing a singular, penetrating power. Murakami is an author exceptionally preoccupied with style, even going so far as to outright say that, to him, \u201cstyle is everything.\u201d And indeed, for me as a translator, the main reason I\u2019ve devoted myself this much to his work is due to how taken I am with his style.<br \/>\n\u3000\u3000If I were to itemize his style\u2019s distinctive characteristics, they would be 1) a simplicity that contains hidden depths (refinement); 2) an intellectual, yet delicate, wit (humor); 3) a restrained sense of lyricism (romance); and 4) a crisp, clear rhythm (beat). Of these, it\u2019s the rhythm that seems most important. Among the Japanese authors I\u2019ve read, I recall no one\u2014except perhaps Natsume S\u014dseki\u2014who can rival Murakami\u2019s mastery of rhythm. Therefore, one of the main tests for a translator is to convey the flavor of such prose, its depth and its rhythm, using appropriately simple language.<br \/>\n\u3000\u3000There may well be those who have doubts about my suitability for such a task, thinking, \u201cHow can you, a specialist in classical literature, grasp Murakami\u2019s modern sense of rhythm, which he learned from jazz?\u201d And it\u2019s true, I don\u2019t know much about jazz. But as I said before, I am a specialist in ancient poetry, and I\u2019d like to think I\u2019ve internalized its qualities to a certain extent. As you surely know, without rhythm, there would be no classical Chinese poetry or Japanese waka. Indeed, you could say that Japanese waka and especially classical Chinese poetry are forms of literature that have reached the very apex of simplicity\u2014of refinement. I don\u2019t think I\u2019m boasting this time when I say that just as Murakami learned rhythm from jazz, I\u2019ve somehow managed to learn it from classical Chinese poetry and been able to apply this skill to the translation of Murakami\u2019s literature. And it\u2019s not just its rhythm, or \u201cbeat.\u201d It\u2019s the other qualities of his language as well\u2014its luster, its undulating surfaces, its flow, its breath, its verve\u2014that I strive to convey in the most natural, un-\u201ctranslated\u201d-feeling Chinese I can. This is my preoccupation as a translator, and the reason why I continue to do this work.<\/p>\n<p><strong>3.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">As stated above, reproducing style in translation is of utmost importance. But this is not translation\u2019s only purpose. The essence of literary translation lies in the recreation of an aesthetic world, a reconstruction of the aesthetic feeling induced by the original. An excessive, bureaucratic display of fidelity to surface meaning and exact phrasing becomes less important in this sense than bringing out the original\u2019s flavor, its mood and warmth and nuance\u2014in other words, the heart and soul imbued by its creator. The translator must find the exact wording that will make Chinese readers experience the same aesthetic feelings in the same magnitude as those experienced by Japanese readers of the original.<br \/>\n\u3000\u3000For this reason, there are times when a tightly focused worldview or a personal attachment or absurd love becomes necessary in the process of translating. In fact, without these things, the translator cannot convey the proper aesthetic feeling. It doesn\u2019t matter how linguistically or grammatically perfect it is, a translation devoid of aesthetic feelings is dead, which results in the death of the literature itself. Does there exist in the world any literature that is merely \u201ccorrect\u201d without conveying feeling? I don\u2019t know about the state of translation in Japan, but in China, there are many translations that at first glance appear perfectly faithful, neutral, balanced, even mechanical. And it is these kinds of translations that feel like a meticulously painted dragon without its eyes filled in\u2014translations that move no one. If I may say so myself, this is the effect I want to avoid at all costs in my process of translation. That is my modest aim.<\/p>\n<p><strong>4.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">For this reason, I cannot say that my translations are the most standard. Though I also think there is no such thing as a truly \u201cstandard\u201d translation. No matter how superlative or renowned a translation might be, it can never completely recreate Murakami\u2019s literature in some sort of standardized, exact sense. It also goes without saying that translation is not the same as self-expression, and in principle, it\u2019s true that translators must strive to shed or even extinguish their selves in order to absorb as much of the original\u2019s inherent flavor as possible. But the problem remains that no matter how much translators might attempt to shed or extinguish themselves, there is always a part of them that stubbornly persists, that can never be truly eradicated, and this stubborn remainder suffuses the translation with the translator\u2019s odor, or, you might say, \u201cbias.\u201d In other words, this thing called the self (the ego) will always manage to peek through. To use Murakami\u2019s own words on the matter (not that I mean to use his thoughts on translation to justify my own conduct!), an excellent translation is always \u201csuffused with a love full of personal prejudice.\u201d To put it in extreme terms, one hundred translators would produce one hundred distinct Murakamis, and therefore one hundred distinct Murakami literatures.<br \/>\n\u3000\u3000I have, in fact, examined many other translations of Murakami into Chinese by people both in mainland China and outside, and while the stories of course remain the same, as does the general sense, it\u2019s the style\u2014particularly the rhythm\u2014that varies most widely among them. Which is not to say that my version is the standard and that all others fall short! In fact, this sort of variance is the most natural thing in the world. Literary translation is the result of a fusion between the style of the original and that of the translator. This is the limit of the work of translation, but also its appeal, its pleasure. I\u2019ve heard that some have criticized my translations as possessing too beautiful a style, but all I can say is that I strive to translate beautifully what I find beautiful and translate roughly what I find rough. I also have the impulse to add that if Chinese readers find my translations beautiful and a pleasure to read, what\u2019s really the harm in that? But of course, I can\u2019t really say that.<\/p>\n<p><strong>5.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">The Murakami novel I found the most difficult to translate so far was The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. Even just finding the right Chinese for \u201cNomonhan\u201d took almost a whole day\u2019s work. It took a full year to translate all three volumes of it, and it was a struggle the whole time. But at the same time, it was the most absorbing novel I\u2019ve translated, one that left a very deep impression on me. The book contains Murakami\u2019s intensely felt viewpoints on recent Asian history, told with courage and stoic grace, interrogating the fundamental nature of certain forms of violence, especially state-sponsored violence. It also has a reflexive quality to it, displaying his anxieties about the present and future of Japan in the manner of a Japanese intellectual reckoning with his conscience, his sense of right and wrong. As I translated the novel, I felt my own heart being cleansed, while also feeling shaken to my very soul. At one point, I engaged in discussions on the theme of \u201cMurakami Haruki and East Asia,\u201d and from my point of view, this novel contains the most \u201cAsian\u201d parts of the Murakami oeuvre, displaying the clearest relationality between Murakami and the rest of Asia. If there\u2019s an element that binds Murakami\u2019s literature to the people of East Asia, I believe this is where it will be found. He is an important writer.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\" wp-image-651 aligncenter\" src=\"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/assets\/uploads\/2021\/09\/047eddefe0ccdaba4e1c1fba90594261-610x813.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"765\" height=\"1005\" \/>\u6797\u5148\u751f\u306e\u300e\u9a0e\u58eb\u56e3\u9577\u6bba\u3057\u300f\u7ffb\u8a33\u624b\u7a3f<\/p>\n<p><strong>6.<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">My newest translation is the lengthy novel Killing Commendatore (my newest translation of a work that is not a novel is Haruki Murakami: A Long, Long Interview by Mieko Kawakami). \u201cNewest,\u201d of course, is relative\u2014it\u2019s already four years old. I began my translation of the original, which came out February 25, 2017, on June 25 of that year and finished it by September 18. If that seems fast, you\u2019re right\u2014it was pretty fast! Luckily, it coincided with summer vacation, so lectures had stopped, and I could return to my place in the country to isolate myself almost completely from the outside world and concentrate on the translation. During that time, my manuscript paper and my fountain pen were my \u201cfaithful companions\u201d morning to night; the intensity of my concentration inevitably led me to overwork myself to the point that my right hand and arm began to hurt terribly. To be honest, I thought that if this book wasn\u2019t interesting, it would surely be the death of me. That sounds like a joke, but it wasn\u2019t. Happily, though, the book turned out to indeed be interesting, even fun, to translate.<br \/>\n\u3000\u3000The most fun parts, the parts that left the deepest impression on me, were naturally his style and rhetoric, especially his use of metaphor. I have it on hand, so I\u2019ll share a few examples of what I mean.<\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><em>Original Japanese:<br \/>\n\u5272\u308c\u305f\u96f2\u9593\u304b\u3089\u3044\u304f\u3064\u304b\u5c0f\u3055\u306a\u661f\u304c\u898b\u3048\u305f\u3002\u661f\u306f\u6563\u3089\u3070\u3063\u305f\u6c37\u306e\u304b\u3051\u3089\u306e\u3088\u3046\u306b\u898b\u3048\u305f\u3002\u4f55\u5104\u5e74\u3082\u306e\u3042\u3044\u3060\u6eb6\u3051\u308b\u3053\u3068\u306e\u306a\u3044\u786c\u3044\u6c37\u3060\u3002\u82af\u307e\u3067\u51cd\u308a\u3064\u3044\u3066\u3044\u308b\u3002(\u300c36 \u8a66\u5408\u306e\u30eb\u30fc\u30eb\u306b\u3064\u3044\u3066\u305c\u3093\u305c\u3093\u8a9e\u308a\u5408\u308f\u306a\u3044\u3053\u3068\u300d)<\/em><br \/>\n<em>My Chinese:<br \/>\n\u4e91\u9699\u95f4\u95ea\u51fa\u51e0\u9897\u5c0f\u661f\u3002\u661f\u770b\u4e0a\u53bb\u50cf\u662f\u8ff8\u6e85\u7684\u51b0\u78b4\u3002\u591a\u5c11\u4ebf\u5e74\u4e5f\u6ca1\u80fd\u878d\u5316\u7684\u786c\u51b0\uff0c\u5df2\u7ecf\u51bb\u5230\u82af\u4e86\u3002<\/em><br \/>\n<em>English (Philip Gabriel and Ted Goossen) :<br \/>\nI could see stars peeping from the cracks between the clouds. They looked like scattered crystals of ice. Hard crystals, millions of years old, never melting. Hard to their very core. (36: What I Want Is Not to Have to Discuss the Rules of the Game)<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><em>Original Japanese:<br \/>\n(\u5f7c\u306f)\u3086\u3063\u304f\u308a\u3068\u6b69\u3044\u3066\u7384\u95a2\u306b\u3084\u3063\u3066\u304d\u305f\u3002\u305d\u3057\u3066\u30c9\u30a2\u30d9\u30eb\u3092\u62bc\u3057\u305f\u3002\u307e\u308b\u3067\u8a69\u4eba\u304c\u5927\u4e8b\u306a\u3068\u3053\u308d\u306b\u7f6e\u304f\u7279\u5225\u306a\u8a00\u8449\u3092\u9078\u3076\u3068\u304d\u306e\u3088\u3046\u306b\u3001\u614e\u91cd\u306b\u6642\u9593\u3092\u304b\u3051\u3066\u3002\uff08\u300c38 \u3042\u308c\u3067\u306f\u3068\u3066\u3082\u30a4\u30eb\u30ab\u306b\u306f\u306a\u308c\u306a\u3044\u300d\uff09<\/em><br \/>\n<em>My Chinese:<br \/>\n\uff08\u4ed6\uff09\u7f13\u7f13\u79fb\u6b65\u8d70\u6765\u95e8\u524d\uff0c\u6309\u54cd\u95e8\u94c3\uff0c\u7b80\u76f4\u5c31\u50cf\u8bd7\u4eba\u5199\u4e0b\u7528\u4e8e\u5173\u952e\u4f4d\u7f6e\u7684\u7279\u6b8a\u5b57\u773c\uff0c\u614e\u91cd\u5730\u3001\u7f13\u6162\u5730\u3002<\/em><br \/>\n<em>English (Philip Gabriel and Ted Goossen):<br \/>\n[He] walked slowly to the front door. Then he rang the doorbell. Slowly and deliberately, like a poet selecting the precise word for a crucial passage. (38: He Could Never Be a Dolphin) <\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><em>Original Japanese:<br \/>\n\u5f7c\u5973\u304c\u5fae\u7b11\u307f\u3092\u6d6e\u304b\u3079\u308b\u306e\u3092\u76ee\u306b\u3057\u305f\u306e\u306f\u3001\u305f\u3076\u3093\u305d\u306e\u3068\u304d\u304c\u521d\u3081\u3066\u3060\u3063\u305f\u3002\u307e\u308b\u3067\u539a\u3044\u96f2\u304c\u5272\u308c\u3066\u3001\u4e00\u7b4b\u306e\u967d\u5149\u304c\u305d\u3053\u304b\u3089\u3053\u307c\u308c\u3001\u571f\u5730\u306e\u9078\u3070\u308c\u305f\u7279\u5225\u306a\u533a\u753b\u3092\u9bae\u3084\u304b\u306b\u7167\u3089\u3057\u51fa\u3059\u3088\u3046\u306a\u3001\u305d\u3093\u306a\u5fae\u7b11\u307f\u3060\u3063\u305f\u3002\uff08\u300c33 \u76ee\u306b\u898b\u3048\u306a\u3044\u3082\u306e\u3068\u540c\u3058\u304f\u3089\u3044\u3001\u76ee\u306b\u898b\u3048\u308b\u3082\u306e\u304c\u597d\u304d\u3060\u300d\uff09<\/em><br \/>\n<em>My Chinese:<br \/>\n\u76ee\u7779\u5979\u9762\u5e26\u7b11\u5bb9\uff0c\u8fd9\u65f6\u5927\u7ea6\u662f\u7b2c\u4e00\u6b21\u3002\u5c31\u597d\u50cf\u539a\u539a\u7684\u4e91\u5c42\u88c2\u5f00\u4e86\uff0c\u4e00\u7ebf\u9633\u5149\u4ece\u90a3\u91cc\u6d41\u6ea2\u4e0b\u6765\uff0c\u628a\u5927\u5730\u7279\u9009\u7684\u533a\u95f4\u7167\u5f97\u4e00\u7247\u707f\u70c2\u2014\u2014\u4fbf\u662f\u8fd9\u6837\u7684\u5fae\u7b11\u3002<\/em><br \/>\n<em>English (Philip Gabriel and Ted Goossen):<br \/>\nI think it was the first time I\u2019d seen her smile. It was as if a ray of sunlight had shot through a crack in an overcast sky to illuminate one special spot. It was that kind of smile. (33: I Like Things I Can See as Much as Things I Can\u2019t)<\/em><\/p>\n<p style=\"padding-left: 30px;\"><em>Original Japanese:<br \/>\n\u82e5\u3044\u53d4\u6bcd\u3068\u59ea\u306e\u5c11\u5973\u3001\u5e74\u9f62\u306e\u9055\u3044\u3001\u6210\u719f\u306e\u5ea6\u5408\u3044\u306e\u5dee\u3053\u305d\u3042\u308c\u3001\u3069\u3061\u3089\u3082\u7f8e\u3057\u3044\u5973\u6027\u3060\u3063\u305f\u3002\u79c1\u306f\u5f7c\u5973\u305f\u3061\u306e\u59ff\u3092\u7a93\u306e\u30ab\u30fc\u30c6\u30f3\u306e\u9699\u9593\u304b\u3089\u89b3\u5bdf\u3057\u3066\u3044\u305f\u3002\u4e8c\u4eba\u304c\u4e26\u3076\u3068\u3001\u4e16\u754c\u304c\u5c11\u3057\u3060\u3051\u660e\u308b\u3055\u3092\u5897\u3057\u305f\u3088\u3046\u306a\u6c17\u914d\u304c\u3042\u3063\u305f\u3002\u30af\u30ea\u30b9\u30de\u30b9\u3068\u65b0\u5e74\u304c\u3044\u3064\u3082\u9023\u308c\u3060\u3063\u3066\u3084\u3063\u3066\u304f\u308b\u307f\u305f\u3044\u306b\u3002(\u300c59 \u6b7b\u304c\u4e8c\u4eba\u3092\u5206\u304b\u3064\u307e\u3067\u306f\u300d) <\/em><br \/>\n<em>My Chinese:<br \/>\n\u5e74\u8f7b\u7684\u59d1\u6bcd\u548c\u5c11\u5973\u4f84\u5973\u3002\u56fa\u7136\u6709\u5e74\u9f84\u4e4b\u5dee\u548c\u6210\u719f\u7a0b\u5ea6\u4e4b\u522b\uff0c\u4f46\u54ea\u4e00\u4f4d\u90fd\u662f\u7f8e\u4e3d\u7684\u5973\u6027\u3002\u6211\u4ece\u7a97\u5e18\u7a7a\u9699\u89c2\u5bdf\u5979\u4eec\u7684\u98ce\u59ff\u4e3e\u6b62\u3002\u4e24\u4eba\u5e76\u80a9\u800c\u884c\uff0c\u611f\u89c9\u4e16\u754c\u591a\u5c11\u589e\u52a0\u4e86\u4eae\u8272\uff0c\u597d\u6bd4\u5723\u8bde\u8282\u548c\u65b0\u5e74\u603b\u662f\u8054\u7fe9\u800c\u81f3\u3002<\/em><br \/>\n<em>English (Philip Gabriel and Ted Goossen):<br \/>\nThey were so different in age and stage of maturity, this young aunt and her niece, yet both were so lovely. I observed their approach through the parted curtains. When they walked side by side, the world brightened a little. As when Christmas and New Year\u2019s arrive in tandem each year. (from Chapter 59: Until Death Separated Us)<\/em><\/p>\n<p>What do you think? Aren\u2019t they so tasteful and elegant as expressions, perfectly suited metaphors to convey the reality of what they describe?<br \/>\nThe American literary critic Harold Bloom once said, \u201cI accept only three criteria for greatness in imaginative literature: aesthetic splendor, cognitive power, and wisdom.\u201d I think the same criteria could be applied to this novel as well. In any case, as a translator, I find myself so keenly drawn to Murakami\u2019s work, and I apply myself to the task of translating it with a sense of excitement.<br \/>\n\u3000\u3000Lastly, I have just one more thing I want to say. It\u2019s rather embarrassing to admit at this point, but there was a time when I felt the burning need to try my hand at writing a novel, to create a Norwegian Wood of my own\u2014let\u2019s call it Qingdao Wood. And I actually did try several times to write one, but in the end, I had to admit that I was not born with the talent to be a novelist, and I gave it up. Still, though, I\u2019ve felt somehow dissatisfied with the idea that I might live my entire life just as a translator, so lately I\u2019ve been writing again, essays this time rather than fiction. And as I do, it has become obvious how very many things Murakami has taught me over the years. I would like to take this opportunity to thank him for that from the bottom of my heart.<br \/>\nThis has been a self-indulgent talk, self-indulgently presented. I will end it here.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: right;\">Early Summer, 2021<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\">English excerpts from Killing Commendatore are taken from<br \/>\nMurakami Haruki, Killing Commendatore,<br \/>\nPhilip Gabriel and Ted Goossen, trans.<br \/>\n(New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2018)<br \/>\n(Translated by One Transliteracy, LLC)<\/p>\n<div class=\"cf\">\n<p><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"align-left\" src=\"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/assets\/uploads\/2021\/09\/d53023f816510f0515fbcb6485e0b79a-610x815.jpg\" alt=\"\" width=\"250\" height=\"334\" \/><br \/>\n<strong>Profile<\/strong><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">Lin Shaohua, whose ancestral home is Penglai in Shandong Province, was born in Changchun the province of Jilin and received his graduate degree from the Japanese Literature Department at Jilin University. After holding a position as Professor of Literature at Jinan University, he now works in the Foreign Languages Department at Ocean University of China in Qingdao.<br \/>\nHe first visited Japan in 1988, spending a year as an exchange student in the graduate school of Osaka City University. He returned to Japan in 1993, working for three years as a foreign lecturer at the University of Nagasaki before receiving a Japan Foundation Fellowship in 2002 that allowed him to work at the University of Tokyo for a year. In 2018, he received the Japanese Foreign Minister\u2019s Commendation.<br \/>\nHis translated works number nearly a hundred titles, including Norwegian Wood, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, and Killing Commendatore by Haruki Murakami, as well as I Am a Cat by Natsume S\u014dseki, Rashomon by Ry\u016bnosuke Akutagawa, Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata, and The Temple of the Golden Pavilion by Yukio Mishima. His original works include The Beauty of Falling Blossoms, Homesickness and Intuition, A Light on a Rainy Night, Stranger, and many others.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<p style=\"text-align: left;\">One TransLiteracy, LLC, is a boutique translation and cultural consultation agency founded by Miyabi &#8220;Abbie&#8221; Yamamoto, Ph.D. We are a team of highly educated native or native-level bilingual and bicultural experts who provide meticulous translations with linguistic acuity, hone texts for precision and elegance, and provide concise explanations of cross-cultural exchange. The founder, Abbie, grew up in Tsukuba, Japan and received her Ph.D. in Japanese and Korean literatures at the University of California, Berkeley. She is passionate about promoting cross-cultural exchange and everyday practices of intentional inclusion.<\/p>\n<p><em>\uff0aThis article was made possible through the support of the Waseda International House of Literature and Top Global University Project in collaboration with Waseda University&#8217;s Global Japanese Studies.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The first in the series is this essay by Lin Shaohua, Murakami\u2019s principal translator into Chinese. As mentioned in his essay, the sheer number of people who have encountered Murakami\u2019s work in Chinese through his translations is staggering\u2014in fact, it represents the biggest non-Japanese community of Murakami readers.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":773,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[104],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-897","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-essays-en","ja"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/897","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=897"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/897\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1221,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/897\/revisions\/1221"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/773"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=897"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=897"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.waseda.jp\/inst\/wihl-annex\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=897"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}