National Book Award for Translated Literature
EMISSARY,THE(B)
Set in a future Japan isolated after a great disaster, this collection centers on a title story in which vigorous elders and frail children inhabit an inverted world. Through the daily life of Yoshiro and his great-grandson Mumei, it asks fable-like questions about environmental collapse, linguistic change, and what passes between generations.
Work Information
In a diminished world, the time shared by a frail child and his elderly guardian gives off a strange brightness.
Kentoshi was published in Japanese as a collection including the title story, and its English translation The Emissary won the National Book Award for Translated Literature. In a future Japan where foreign words and movement are restricted, robust elders live alongside children born physically weak. While imagining a post-disaster society, Tawada's wordplay and inverted humor let lightness and hope enter a story of endings.
Review Summaries
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Critical response praises the sharpness of an imagination that seems to prophesy a future after earthquake and nuclear disaster. Despite the dark premise, the work's fable-like force and uncanny texture of language leave a strong impression.
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English-language response often reads the book as strangely light despite its concern with mortality and decline. Mumei's gentleness and Yoshiro's worry keep the dystopia from becoming merely despairing.
Book Information
- Publisher
- NEW DIRECTIONS
- Published
- 2018-04-24
- Pages
- 100 pages
- Language
- 英語
- Size
- 13.21 x 1.27 x 20.32 cm
- ISBN-13
- 9780811227629
- ISBN-10
- 0811227626
- Price
- 2828 JPY
- Category
- 洋書/Literature & Fiction/Mythology & Folk Tales/Fairy Tales
マス/トレード
Yoko Tawada was born in Tokyo in 1960, moved to Hamburg when she was twenty-two, and then to Berlin in 2006. She writes in both Japanese and German, and has published several books--stories, novels, poems, plays, essays--in both languages. She has received numerous awards for her writing including the Akutagawa Prize, the Adelbert von Chamisso Prize, the Tanizaki Prize, the Kleist Prize, the Goethe Medal, and the National Book Award. New Directions publishes her story collections Where Europe Begins (with a Preface by Wim Wenders) and Facing the Bridge , as well her novels The Naked Eye , The Bridegroom Was a Dog , Memoirs of a Polar Bear , The Emissary, Scattered All over the Earth, Paul Celan and the Trans-Tibetan Angel, Suggested in the Stars , and forthcoming in autumn 2025 is Archipelago of the Sun , the final novel in her Scattered trilogy . Margaret Mitsutani has lived in Japan since the mid-1970s and was a finalist for the National Book Award for her translation of Yoko Tawada's Scattered All Over the Earth and winner of the National Book Award for her translation of Tawada's The Emissary . She also translates Japan's 1994 Nobel Prize laureate Kenzaburo Oe.
Reviews
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A World outside 'Plato's Cave'?
My five-star is for the story itself and for the audacious endeavor to translate this intriguing world of Yoko Tawada presumably designed for the Japanese readers into a foreign language. Looking into a distorted mirror, you may unexpectedly discover your true self in its reflected image. Full of inference and allusion to the past/current Japan, the story helps us recognize the absurdity of today's world which we are too accustomed to notice. One of major themes in this book is the importance of words and language along with, among others, mortality, hope, and globalism. Faced with imminent collapse of the existing system triggered by a void of Tokyo, the prime center of materialism and value standards, future governments turn to the usual damage control tactic; Monopolizing/Controlling the information, through manipulating words and language. We can easily identify a deeply-rooted motto of 'Let people obey, Never let them informed' in ways that future privatized governments copy the measures actually adopted in the aftermath of Fukushima nuclear disaster, specifically, distorting/stretching definition of key words, inventing 'neutral' or hollow new ones, and banning specific/sensitive words such as 'fallouts'. A reminiscence of 'Newspeak' in Orwell's 1984. Evidently, Yoko Tawada, a master of keen and precise word choice, who writes in both German and Japanese, is not pleased with liberal exploitation of words and language on political motives. In her de-globalized world wherein international commodity trade is severely curtailed, a language remains one of the few treasures which could be traded internationally. Future Japan, however, having ruined their own one, has no place in this market. Several non-Japanese readers may find the whole scenario far too surreal or even ludicrous. To most Japanese readers familiar with the modern history for whom Tawada intended in creating the original Japanese edition, however, such policies as blocking borders, erasing off any foreign elements by replacing foreign words/names with Japanese ones, forbidding use/learning of foreign languages, etc. are realities of the past follies. They were actually enforced not only on the people of Japan, but also on colonial people in Korean peninsula until Imperial Japan collapsed in 1945. These facts/knowledge help lead us into an imaginary but somehow familiar world as though the clock had started to click backwards. The sound of original Japanese title 'Kentoushi', Emissary, also evokes a strong image of elite Emissary sent to Ancient China during the 6-9th Centuries, who represent a beacon of hope in the early stage of the nation's history. The chosen youths, mostly monks and scholars, literally risked their lives in arduous voyages to Chan' An, the inland capital of Sui and later Tang Empire with an aim of bringing back advanced knowledge necessary to build up the foundation of a young nation state. In contrast, the Emissary in a battered and withering future Japan, for which Tawada purposefully assigns a different kanji in the original title, are a group of children, intellectually bright but in a hopelessly declining health. Their mission only reminds me of a sad story about the 'Hibakusha' children, or infant survivors in Hiroshima/Nagasaki tragedies during Occupation Period. Several Hibakusha children, at the request of a group of scientists/doctors, underwent periodic and thorough examination of their bodies hoping that specially-trained doctors would detect/cure any problems associated with radiation. The group's objective, however, was nothing but collect data for their own research on the impact of radiation on human bodies. While Mumei, the boy in this story never feels sorry for his destiny, those surviving children, later discovering the hidden agenda, rightfully felt betrayed and miserable for themselves. What makes reading this translated version more difficult, in addition to ample allusion and insinuation, is Tawada's meticulous word choice, studded with a number of 'kake-kotoba' or homonyms and word plays in her original Japanese edition. It is beyond any translator's ability to bring delicate wits and nuances into English as vividly and precisely as they are. While reading this translated version, I came across several paragraphs/sentences which do not make much sense. For example, it required me to refer to the Japanese edition to fully appreciate Mumei's witty remark in his conversation with a dentist to learn that he uses the word 'nyuushi' which sounds in dual meanings; baby tooth and entrance exam. ( I also learned that there was indeed a grass-roots movement called Baby Tooth Survey in the 50-60s St. Louis. The objective was to measure exposure to radiation caused by fallouts from above-ground nuclear tests by collecting baby teeth from a number of children, which later contributed to atmospheric nuclear test banning decision by JFK.) I point out the difficulty of this reading not to dissuade any potential readers, but to stress the depth and richness of this mysterious story. With a bit of information and knowledge on the background, you could much more appreciate this story. And now, coming of COVID-19. We are witnessing in our own eyes the world is getting closer and closer to Tawada's dystopia. With more and more government interventions in our everyday lives, it is now a perfect time to enjoy this insightful story to reflect upon our own beings in this nonsensical world.
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英語の勉強のつもりで
日本語、漢字の翻訳、勉強になります。この世界観は謎のままですが。
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一般
和日语版对照着读的,首先日语版内容就一般,所以……。翻译的话有不少错误的地方,也有不少抖机灵翻译的很妙的地方。不过内容本身奇怪,结尾也有的突兀,不太推荐吧。
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是非とも日本語版と読み比べて見てください。
是非とも日本語と読み比べて下さい。先に英語版を読んで、よく解りにくいところがありました。日本語版を読むと、実は漢字や日本語特有の言い回しを、苦労して素敵に英訳していたのがわかりました。英語のネイティブスピーカーが、英語版をどうとらえるのか、とても興味深いです。
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great
great
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Good, book well written and well translated. Bought it for #januaryinjapan2022. Read in one go. It's a slim book with plenty to keep interest. I dont Do any spoilers for the interest of the authors. But highly suggest. The love between a grandad and grandson, who does anything he can to support his fanily
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Achei a distopia da autora muito criativa e cativante. Um mundo mutante em que quase nada se compara com a realidade atual.
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Wonderful book. But don't be a chump like me. "The Emissary" is the US title. "The Last Children of Tokyo" is the UK title. Same translator, same year. Well worth buying...once.
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If a reader knew very little about the 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami in Japan, they’d find this book very strange indeed! This terrible disaster and the aftermath of this fiasco which affected thousands of people and created an environmental catastrophe obviously had a huge impact on the author Yōko Tawada. She has taken this calamity, pumped it full of frightening and disturbing consequential steroids, and produced a story that will not sit well with a lot of people. In a dystopian world where Japan has isolated itself once again and returned to a distorted resemblance of the Edo period, you’re thrown into a very strange reality where the earth and the air has become highly contaminated, centenarians have become the healthiest generation burdened with everlasting life, and their great-grandchildren are all weak and helpless. The elderly, although much healthier than the young, are filled with apprehension realising their lives have become a juxtaposition of opposites and contradictions. Born in 1960, Tawada was in her twenties when Japan was in the midst of an economic boom. Fathers worked long hours, dedicating themselves to their company, and mothers tried to create the perfect home life. Parents had high hopes for their children. They encouraged them to study hard at school and attend a gakushū juku (cram school) so they would do well in the future. When the country plunged into a deep recession and economic turmoil in the '90s young Japanese men and women started to become disillusioned, workplaces no longer offered the security they once promised, and many people decided not to have kids. I believe these factors are the seeds to the world described in this story. In this book, children are given a lot more freedom at school and at home and Tawada seems angry and critical of mothers who she describes as being out all day with their babies in prams spending their time in coffee shops where the “air was heavy with exasperated sighs, sharp, needling complaints, high-pitched giggles”. The 2018 National Book Award for Translated Literature was awarded to this book translated by Margaret Mitsutani and it’s easy to see why. It must have been very difficult for Mitsutani to capture the true essence of this story and translate into English what I believe would have been a lot of confusing and mystifying Japanese text, but she did a remarkable job. Mitsutani definitely deserves 5-stars for her remarkable effort. You can see through her writing that Tawada looks at humanity and our future very differently to other people. This is what makes this book so appealing. Her characters are otherworldly beings that lack beauty and grace but you still want to find out more about them. This story includes a Thingamabob Cemetery, umbrellas that block sunlight despite being transparent, pencils that chirp like birds, and origami that crinkles into the shape of mandarin ducks when sprinkled with water, so there’s a lot to entertain you. Tawada is also very detailed in her descriptions. When she describes an orange, she dissects it to the point where you begin to look at this fruit in a completely different way. Tawada has very cleverly highlighted her fears for the future of this earth and humanity through this powerful and profound piece of fiction. Politicians would benefit from reading this book and environmentalists would give it 5-stars but for me, the writing in the first half of this book was better than the second half, and I was disappointed with the outcome when I reached the final page.
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I enjoyed reading through this. The author painted such pleasent picture and described feeling in a way I would never have thought to. However I found some of the story line confusing and maybe something was lost in translation but the ending left me saying, "wait what?" Truth be told, I read it over a couple weeks, so maybe I missed something but I was left disgruntled with the ending.