Category: Culture

Posts about appreciating arts and culture.

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7-Day Book Cover Challenge (Day 6): “Book from the Ground”

Introduction:

This bilingual post was originally written for social media, and is part of the “7 day book cover challenge.”

「7日間のブックカバーチャレンジ（6日目）：『Book from the Ground (地の本)』」

この投稿は、もとはSNSのブックカバーチャレンジのために書かれたものです。英語の本文の後に日本語が続きます。

The cover of “Book from the Ground“–which is very brief and to the point, literally! By the way, I found out while working on my master’s project that this man is called “Helvetica Man” 🙂

7???（?6）：?←?

The sixth book is Book from the Ground by the Chinese artist Xu Bing. This is a novel that’s written entirely in pictograms! I love pictograms so much that I wrote my “master’s project” (the equivalent of a master’s thesis at my journalism grad school; essentially a long article meant for publications in magazines) on it.

I feel very lucky to have learned about Xu Bing from my dear friend Kieu, an artist who also loves languages. I was fascinated by Bing’s renditions of English words that are made to look like Chinese characters. Then, a few years after, Bing happened to come to my grad school to speak–and that’s how I learned about this book, which he was still writing at the time. 

From inside “Book from the Ground.” By the way, the exit sign (on the left page) was invented by a Japanese individual!

The back of the book contains Bing’s quote that says: “Twenty years ago I made Book from the Sky, a book of illegible Chinese characters that no one could read. Now I have created Book from the Ground, a book that anyone can read.” Indeed, the pictograms make the story accessible–but I also find that it takes a lot longer to read! The story is essentially about a day in the life of one man, and has lots of humor (including slapstick bathroom humor).  

I’d always been fascinated by kanji, and love how they are essentially little pictures. They are so concise in conveying meaning. I especially love the series of characters that belong to one family, like fish names (who *hasn’t* tried to read all the characters on tea cups at sushi restaurants??), tree names (like fish, you can kind of guess what “hard tree,” “white tree,” etc. each refer to!), and types of weather (especially poetic with the droplets in the “rain” portion). 

From the exhibit “Chinese in the Information Age” at the Museum of Chinese in America (February 2019), a panel that shows how the character for “mountain” evolved over time

When I attended Bing’s lecture, emojis were just becoming popular. Facebook wasn’t as big, Twitter was just gaining traction, and Instagram didn’t even exist. But texting was huge, and lots of shortened words (like LOL and TTYL) were being used. I began to wonder if that was the direction were going–will words continue to be shortened, eventually giving way to pictures? I talked about this with my advisor and fellow advisees, and one of the advisees pointed out that letters like hieroglyphs came from pictures–so perhaps we were actually coming full circle.

I really, really, really enjoyed working on this master’s project. I got to interview lots of designers, including the designer of the sports icons of the Mexico City Olympics (1968), and a designer who was commissioned by the Department of Transportation to create airport pictograms (the first of its kind, including bathroom signs). I also got to interview other professionals, including a computer programmer who crowdsourced the translation of Moby Dick into emoji, as well as the founder of an NPO that facilitates virtual communication among children all over the world using emoji. (I didn’t get to meet Bing himself, but visited his studio in Brooklyn, where his assistant provided me with many resources.) Some showed me drafts of their designs, and many welcomed me into their home, reminiscing about their past projects or sharing their ideas for the future. Others were kind enough to meet me for tea–on one occasion at a station in Tokyo, when they were about to jump on a bullet train to go home for the holidays.    

It is truly one of my biggest regrets in life that, while I submitted this article to my school, I did not get to publish it in a magazine. While I was pitching it, I was very excited that one major magazine that I’ve always loved expressed interest–but they asked that it be cut to 300 words (less than 1/20 of its length). I felt that was too short, and while I was being indecisive, I missed my timing. Now I fear it is too late, since the interviews were done ten years ago. I think back to all the kind interviewees who were generous with their time–especially the then-79-year-old designer who not only picked me up at a train station and drove me to his house, but gave me a two-hour long interview over tea, kindly brought out his hand drawn designs, and even gave me a rare copy of a poster that has his pictograms. I would still very much like to revisit this project, especially to repay his and other interviewees’ kindness.

Anyway, I continue to be fascinated by kanji, emoji, and pictograms, and look forward to exploring this topic more!

At a special exhibit at the Museum of Applied Arts in Vienna (May 2019). I love the beautiful waves!

*****

6冊目は中国人アーティストの徐冰（Xu Bing）による 『Book from the Ground（地の本）』。すべてピクトサインで書かれた（描かれた？）素敵な本です。

私は子供の頃から漢字が大好きです。割れた卵にそっくりな「卵」や木がたくさんある「森」は小さな絵ですし、「雪のように白い魚＝鱈」、「堅い木＝樫」のように、ちっちゃいスペースにたくさんの意味を詰め込んでいる字も素晴らしい。友人を通じて徐冰のことを知ったのですが、彼は、アルファベットを漢字のように書いたりして、もとからよく字で遊ぶアーティストのようです。

私が大学院にいた時に徐冰が講演しに来たのですが、その際に知ったのが、当時まだ執筆中だったこの本。そこで私もすっかりピクトサインに魅了され、それを修士論文（といっても、ジャーナリズムの大学院なので、雑誌に載せることを意図した長文記事です）のトピックにしました。ちょうど絵文字の人気が出始めたころだったので、どんどんコミュニケーションが短く速くなっていく中、言葉はどんどん絵に取って代わられるのかを調べたいと思いました。

I thought this sign was hilarious and so straightforward! I’m sure Bing (whose book includes bathroom humor ?) would love it! (Found in the streets of Vienna, May 2019)

修論を書く過程はものすごく楽しいものでした。メキシコシティ五輪のスポーツのアイコンをデザインした方をはじめ、多くのデザイナーと話す機会があり、他にも、クラウドソーシングで『白鯨』を絵文字に翻訳したプログラマーの方、絵文字を使って国が異なる子供たちにコミュニケーションを促すNPOの代表の方もインタビューする機会がありました。

今悔やまれてならないのは、修論を学校に提出した後、雑誌に投稿することができなかったということです。300ワード（全体の20分の１以下）に縮めたら検討してもよいと言う雑誌もあったのですが、あまりに短いので悩んでいるうちにタイミングを逃してしまいました。インタビューした方々は本当に優しく、今でも思い出して一番胸が痛くなるのは、運転して私を駅まで迎えに来てくださり、ご自宅で２時間以上インタビューに応え、自分がデザインしたピクトサインの珍しいポスターまで下さった、当時79歳だったデザイナーのおじいさまのことです。論文が書かれてちょうど10年経ってしまいましたが、彼のため、そしてインタビューに応えてくださった多くの方のためにも、いつか何らかの形で世に出せることを心から願っています。

At the National Archaeological Museum in Athens (May 2018). I would love to learn more about Egyptian hieroglyphs at some point!

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7-Day Book Cover Challenge (Day 5): “Patchwork Girl”

Introduction:

This bilingual post was originally written for social media, and is part of the “7 day book cover challenge.”

「7日間のブックカバーチャレンジ（5日目）：『Patchwork Girl (パッチワーク・ガール)』」

この投稿は、もとはSNSのブックカバーチャレンジのために書かれたものです。英語の本文の後に日本語が続きます。

The fifth piece is Patchwork Girl by Shelley Jackson. This is actually not a book–it’s a “hypertext,” a type of interactive literature that is read on a computer. I encountered this work in a contemporary literature class in college, and continue to be inspired to it today.

Patchwork Girl is about a female version of Frankenstein’s monster, assembled from pieces of multiple corpses. It is very much a feminist piece, focusing on a lesbian figure who takes matter into her own hands. It is worth noting that the original Frankenstein was written by a woman. It is so cool that, while contemporary women writers in the 18th century (who I also love!) wrote about romance and witty conversations over tea, Mary Shelley wrote about human nature and industrialization–and invented the genre of science fiction. Still, the bumbling Frankenstein’s monster who cannot find a mate is very tragic and awkward to read about–and a lot less sexy than other characters of Gothic literature like Dracula, Mr. Rochester, and (while better known for their appearances in films) werewolves. Patchwork Girl empowers this figure, making her a strong and independent woman.

Patchwork Girl is like an allegory, where the various body parts sewn together are parallel to the pieces of text connected through links. In hypertext fiction, instead of pages, passages of text come up on the computer. Links are embedded in the passage, and when the reader clicks on any of them, the next passage appears in a box. But the links aren’t underlined, so it’s never clear where the links are. And unlike on a website, there is no back button or home button. There is no way to skip to the end, so readers are literally lost in the story. Patchwork Girl takes full advantage of this medium. There are scenes where the main character takes a bath with her girlfriend, and the seams come apart–and when she comes out of the bath, it’s not clear whether she’s still herself or has somehow merged with her girlfriend. The main character “dies” (although she is made of dead body parts to begin with) in one passage, but is somehow resurrected in another. These things would not make sense in a linear story–but magically, Jackson makes them work in this nonlinear medium.

I really enjoyed this special exhibit (2017) at The Rosenbach in Philly, which celebrated the 200th anniversary of “Frankenstein”

Ever since I read this, I’ve wanted to create interactive fiction. To me, they seem more natural than books and parallel to how the mind works, like endlessly clicking from one Wikipedia article to another. But there are some big challenges. The first is storytelling: I’ve found that it’s difficult to add depth to characters–or even have more than a few characters, since the story becomes so confusing. (Indeed, this article, which calls it “the failure of futurism,” says that hypertext fiction didn’t take off because they are too hard to write.) The second challenge is technology. In earlier attempts, I was very frustrated by how inaccessible this genre was–hypertext had to be read and written in a specific medium called Storyspace. I thought about putting it online, but thought the back button made things too easy for readers. Now, things are somewhat easier because of apps and websites like Twine.

Personally, I think a biggest challenge is that they’re often a difficult experience for readers. As a child, I didn’t really enjoy reading “choose-your-own-adventure” books, mostly because the characters seemed flat, and the stories were less exciting than linear books–so much attention was paid to making it interactive, that everything else fell behind. And even the experience of reading Patchwork Girl was an intellectual exercise. It was sometimes scary and frustrating to not know where I was in the story, and constantly making decisions ended up being a bit taxing, because even though I was given control in choosing the next step, I didn’t have enough control to know the outcomes of each step. But after I finished reading it, and explored what Jackson has said about her own work, as well as various research done on non-linear narratives and feminism, including Judith Butler–that’s when everything came together. It really was a piece of art that gradually came into focus, rather than a quick and entertaining read.

I’ve put a pause on trying to write interactive stories, because I’ve realized that I first need much more practice in writing linear stories. Still, I hope I can one day challenge myself to create an interactive piece of fiction that is thought-provoking and satisfying to the reader, lingering in their memories for years, like Patchwork Girl has for me.

Part of the exhibit on “Frankenstein.” Mary Shelley was truly a cool figure, the sole woman in a group of male writers!

*****

5日目は『Patchwork Girl（パッチワーク・ガール）』。本当は本ではなく、ハイパーテキストという名の、コンピューターで読むインタラクティブな作品です。大学の時に現代文学のクラスで出会った、憧れの作品です。

フランケンシュタインの話に基づいて、いろいろな死体から身体のいろいろな部分を縫い合わせて作られた女性が主人公です。『フランケンシュタイン』自体、SFのジャンルを作ったと言われる女性（メアリー・シェリー）が書いたという意味で画期的ですが、そこに出てくるモンスターは物悲しく、精神的に弱い部分があります。『パッチワーク・ガール』では、自分の身体の状況をものともせず、自由に行動するかっこいい女性となっています。

ハイパーテキストでは、画面上にページの代わりに箱が現れ、そこに書かれた文章を読んでから、文章の中に埋まっている複数のリンクのうちの一つを選んで、次に進みます。リンクに下線がないのでどこがリンクか分からないし、ウェブサイトと違って、前のページやホームページに戻ることもできません。そういう場に、『パッチワーク・ガール』はまさに適しており、縫い合わさったバラバラの身体の部位がリンクでつながったバラバラの文章を象徴しています。また、主人公が死んだり（身体は死体から来てますが）生き返ったり、身体の一部がぽろっと落ちたりまた拾われたり、そんな不思議なお話が、本だったらわけがわからない状態なのに、こういったノンリニア（非線形）ナラティブではなぜかとっても納得がいくのです。

これを読んだ時から、私もインタラクティブなお話に強く憧れています。人間の考え方は、無理やり直線的に整理された本よりも、ウィキペディアの記事のリンクを次から次にクリックするような感じで、連想で成り立っているように思います。正直、こういう話はものすごく書きにくいだけでなく（何度か試しましたが、話の流れに気を取られてしまって、登場人物の性格に深みを持たせることができません）、読み手にとっても楽しみにくい（今自分が話のどこにいるのかも出口も見えず、決断ばかり求められることに疲弊する可能性があります）のが大きな障壁です。でも、まずは直線的なストーリーを書いて練習しつつ、いつかは、読み手にとっても思い出に残るようなインタラクティブなお話を書いてみたいと思っています。

An interactive book (of more than 400 pages!) based on “Romeo & Juliet.” It has more than 100 possible endings!
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7-Day Book Cover Challenge (Day 4): “Theories of Modern Art”

Introduction:

This bilingual post was originally written for social media, and is part of the “7 day book cover challenge.”

「7日間のブックカバーチャレンジ（4日目）：『Theories of Modern Art（近代美術の理論）』」

この投稿は、もとはSNSのブックカバーチャレンジのために書かれたものです。英語の本文の後に日本語が続きます。

The fourth book is “Theories of Modern Art” by Herschel Chipp, who was an art history professor at UC Berkeley. I encountered this book as a college student, when it was assigned in a class about the history of modern art. It’s full of primary sources: diaries, letters, and statements by the artists themselves. Despite the somewhat boring name, it’s a really fun read!

The following are works by some of the artists who show up in the book (in roughly chronological order). They’re paintings I happened to encounter, and not works that were mentioned in the book–or even the most representative work of each artist! This is “Postman Joseph Roulin” by Van Gogh, at the MFA in Boston. In the 2017 movie “Loving Vincent” (which, incredibly, was animated using handdrawn paintings that emulated Van Gogh’s style!), the main character is the son of this postman.

My parents are avid museum visitors, and ever since I was a child, I had the chance to tag along. We were most often in the sections with Renaissance art. In my childish mind, they were easy to understand as art that captured a moment in real life. We enjoyed the beautiful colors and nature represented in Impressionism too (although in my youth I believed the rumor that Monet’s style came from his bad eyesight, and questioned the point of Pointillism (so much work!)). But I just never understood modern art after Impressionism, and that frustrated me. So I decided to take a class about it in college–and boy, was that the best decision ever!

“In the Waves” by Gauguin, at the Cleveland Museum of Art. Whenever I see Gauguin’s Tahiti paintings, I have mixed feelings of nostalgia/familiarity (the scenes and clothing are reminiscent of Hawaii) and a vague annoyance at a white man’s portrayal of what he saw as an exotic culture. So I really like this painting that’s a bit different from his style, depicting a white woman (this was apparently two years before he left for Taihiti), and putting much more emphasis on color and composition than showing a different culture. The contrast of the green waves and red hair is so beautiful, too!

Starting with Post-Impressionism, this book progresses through movements like Cubism and Surrealism, ending with “contemporary” (as defined by when the book was first published (1968)) art. These letters and diary entries explain in detail what each artist aimed to achieve in their work, what materials they used, why they changed their style over time–and even their personalities. Van Gogh’s renowned letters to his brother about his artistic and financial struggles are heartbreaking. Picasso’s statement on “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon” is enlightening. Many artists’ lives are integrated with history, like WWI and nationalism. A couple of artists are so passionate that they seem rather self-absorbed–I recall one artist writing in his diary something like, “When I took a break from painting, I noticed that my wife had come and gone, leaving me dinner” (all the artists in the book are, inevitably, male and white).

Henri Rousseau’s “Fight Between a Tiger and a Buffalo,” at the Cleveland Museum of Art. I was amazed to learn that Rousseau had never seen a jungle–or even left France! I also like his style that somehow makes jungles appear two-dimensional.

Now these artists have become some of my favorites–so much so that when I go to museums, I rush to the modern art wings first. Some I just enjoy because of their visuals even if I still don’t understand them (Klee, Miro), and some I admire for their chameleon-like transformation over time (Picasso, Kandinsky). It is fun to recognize their names and style, read the descriptions, and interpret the emotions they were expressing. I find that there’s so much depth, and that the more I stare, the more there is to discover.

“Woman in a Purple Coat” by Matisse, at the Museum of Fine Arts in Houston. This woman is so stylish and could totally be an amazing fashion magazine editor today!

Thanks to this book, I have a much better appreciation for modern and contemporary art in general. I also have a better understanding of how crucial primary sources are in the field of research. In combination, they are even more powerful, fulfilling the artists’ desire for expression and enriching the viewers’ lives at the same time. For now, I’m enjoying these photos from the past few years–but can’t wait to visit museums in person again!

“Tre Croci-Dolomite Landscape” by Oskar Kokoschka at the Leopold Museum in Vienna. I am not a big fan of Kokoschka’s style of depicting people, but his harsh strokes seem perfect for these mountains (and the very muscular horse!).

*****

4日目は『Theories of Modern Art（近代美術の理論）』。故ハーシェル・チップ（カリフォルニア大学バークレー校で美術史を教えていた教授）がまとめた本です。

“Three Musicians” by Picasso at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It seems like MoMA’s version is more famous, but I like this one more, because the musicians seem happier (the mustaches/smiles are so cute!).

私は、子供の頃から両親によく美術館に連れて行ってもらいましたが、主にルネサンス美術と印象派の絵画を見ることが多く、近代美術をあまり理解できませんでした。そこで、大学の時にあえて近代美術史のクラスを受講したら、とても面白く、大きく視点が変わりました。特によかったのが、画家の日記や手紙、アーティストステートメントといった一次資料を集めたこの本。どういう思いでそれぞれの絵を描いたのか、なぜ画家としてのスタイルが変わっていったのかということのみならず、第一次世界大戦などの時代背景や、画家個人の性格までが映し出され、読み物としてもとっても面白いのです。

Miro’s “Metamorphosis” at the Albertina Museum in Vienna. I still don’t get it, but I love the beautiful colors, and it’s so cute!

この本のおかげで、美術館巡りが大好きになり、行けばまず近代美術のところに直行するようになりました。ここで学んだり知ったりしたアーティストのみならず、近現代のアート全体をより広い視点で考えられるようになり、人生が豊かになりました。今はこういう状況ですが、この投稿に選んだ写真を見つつ、また美術館に行ける日を心待ちにしています！

Chagall’s “Sleeping Woman with Flowers” at the Albertina Museum. It is so interesting that the emphasis is on the flowers rather than the woman, as if to depict the contents of her dream.
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7-Day Book Cover Challenge (Day 3): “The Joy Luck Club”

Introduction:

This bilingual post was originally written for social media, and is part of the “7 day book cover challenge.”

「7日間のブックカバーチャレンジ（3日目）：『ジョイ・ラック・クラブ』」

この投稿は、もとはSNSのブックカバーチャレンジのために書かれたものです。英語の本文の後に日本語が続きます。

The third book is Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club. I’m especially excited that I get to write about this during Asian Pacific American Heritage Month, as well as a few weeks after Mother’s Day.

I was blown away when I first read The Joy Luck Club in high school. It was the first time that I could see someone similar to myself in a book written in English: Asian American women who struggle with the dichotomy of two cultures. Because during my childhood, even in Hawaii, the most iconic books were written by and for Caucasian children. It was especially bad with picture books: an Asian kid occasionally made an appearance as a classmate or friend of the white main character, sporting slanted eyes and unreadable expressions. Hawaii bookstores did feature local authors who wrote more diverse characters, but they were harder to come by. So in most stories I read growing up, I felt like a bit of an outsider.

I was super excited to see her on stage at the 2018 National Book Festival (she’s on the left, with her iconic hairstyle)! I bought her memoir but didn’t have the chance to ask for her autograph.

What I love even more about The Joy Luck Club is its focus on immigrant mothers and their second-generation daughters, each with different back stories and personalities. The book really resonated with me because, like those daughters, I was also desperate to fit in the United States, and often narrow-mindedly cast away my mother’s–and my own–culture.

My mother was no “tiger mom,” but she certainly seemed stricter than other parents. She is tall, beautiful, smart, and confident, and growing up, I often felt that I didn’t live up to her expectations. But I also remember a few instances when I hurt her, especially because of the bicultural environment. Once, when I was in second or third grade in Hawaii, my classmates and I were hiking in the mountains, and she joined us as a chaperone. She spoke to me from behind in Japanese, warning that my backpack strap was slipping from my shoulders–and I turned around and said to her sharply, “I told you to talk in English in front of others!”. She apologized, looking surprised and embarrassed. I had wanted to fit in with my American classmates, and wanted to appear strong, as if I didn’t need my mom’s help. I’m now so ashamed that I treated her that way, especially when she’d joined the trip for my sake. In retrospect, I think this was the first time I realized that my seemingly almighty mother could be hurt by my thoughtless words. Now that I’ve matured, we’ve come to understand each other much more–and I’m so thankful for the stronger relationship we now have.

Amy Tan is such an icon and pioneer Asian American woman writer. I understand she has her critics about stereotyping, and to be honest, I don’t think I would be as receptive if she wrote stories based on Japanese history and culture. But I will never forget how much comfort The Joy Luck Club gave me when I first read it, and I believe she paved the way for generations of writers.

The 1993 movie, which I sometimes still talk about with my mother, was unforgettable. While it is shocking that a quarter century (!) had to pass before another major American movie with an all-Asian cast was created (Crazy Rich Asians), it is also amazing how progressive The Joy Luck Club was when no one else was willing to create a movie like that. Either way, I hope I can someday also create stories that bring together diverse characters and universal themes.

From an exhibit on influential baby boomers at the Newseum (2015). I found hope in the fact that she started publishing later than some other authors.

*****

3日目はエイミ・タンの『ジョイ・ラック・クラブ』。高校生の時に読んで、アメリカの本で初めて、自分と似た境遇の登場人物（二つの文化の間でアイデンティティを探すアジア系アメリカ人）に出会い、深く共感しました。話の根底にあるのは4組の母娘（中国からの移民である母親たちと、中国系アメリカ人の二世である娘たち）の関係で、一人っ子の私も母親と喧嘩することが多かったので、いろいろと考えさせられました。

エイミ・タンは、中国に関するステレオタイプが多いという批判も受けていますが、アジア系アメリカ人の作家(特に女性の)として先駆者の一人だと思います。私もいつか、マイノリティである登場人物と普遍的な感情の双方をお話に盛り込むことができれば、と思います。

The 2016 Annual Conference of my former workplace, the U.S.-Japan Council, welcomed Tamlyn Tomita (left), one of the actresses in “The Joy Luck Club.” She was as beautiful as ever, and really encouraging of Japanese American leaders. (Photo borrowed from USJC)
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7-Day Book Cover Challenge (Day 2): “Nihon Mukashibanashi” (Japanese Folktales)

Introduction:

This bilingual post was originally written for social media, and is part of the “7 day book cover challenge.”

「7日間のブックカバーチャレンジ（2日目）：『日本むかしばなし集』（坪田譲治）」

この投稿は、もとはSNSのブックカバーチャレンジのために書かれたものです。英語の本文の後に日本語が続きます。

The second book (or set of three books) is Nihon Mukashibashi (Japanese folktales) compiled by Joji Tsubota. I read this series several times while I was in elementary school. Among the many different versions of Japanese folktales I’ve owned or borrowed (I bought regional folktales whenever I traveled in other areas in Japan), it’s one that I remember most fondly for its readability and wide collection of stories.

I’ve always enjoyed folktales and fairy tales from throughout the world, including those compiled by the Brothers Grimm or written by Hans Christian Andersen. In olden times, fantastical beings existed alongside humans. It is a bit sad that these beliefs have disappeared in recent times, due to progress in science that dispels myths and explains mysteries, nighttime lights that chase away shadows, and more.

In 2008, when I worked at the Japan Information & Culture Center, Embassy of Japan, I had the fortune of working on this amazing exhibit! Shigeru Mizuki, a manga artist who specializes in yokai, created a special rendition of “The Fifty-Three Stations of the Tokaido” (ukiyo-e prints originally by Hiroshige), with yokai inserted in all 53 prints.
2008年に日本大使館で働いていた頃、水木しげるの『妖怪道五十三次』の展示に携わることができました。広重の『東海道五十三次』の絵一枚一枚に妖怪が足されている、とっても素敵な企画でした！

I especially enjoy how in Japanese stories, animals and objects have a life of their own. This idea is intertwined with the Japanese indigenous religion, as well as the belief that every being, even inanimate objects like rocks or places like mountains and lakes, have a soul. I’m especially enamored with Japanese yokai (monsters), which I’d love to write about one day. They are very human in their behavior and a part of the daily lives of local residents. They often have sad origin stories: like babies that were killed by their parents who could not afford to raise them, monks that turned into monsters once they ate the corpse of an apprentice they loved too much, or animals that disguised themselves as humans because they fell in love with a man. Some are scary, some are mischievous and cute–but all of them have an undertone of melancholy in their isolation, otherness, and yearning to be a part of the human world.

Anyway, these folktales were really helpful in learning Japanese history and culture, especially when I was in the U.S. It looks like Tsubota’s version was written in 1957, and I think the version at my house was republished in 1975–so these stories have really stood the test of time. I hope I, too, can rely on these stories to someday pass along my culture–and perhaps my love for yokai–to the next generation.

This amazing exhibit at the Edo Tokyo Museum featured an all-star cast of ukiyo-e artists–including Utagawa Kuniyoshi, who frequently drew yokai. I’d always wanted to see his work in person, and was really excited that I finally had the chance to do so!
今年1月、江戸東京博物館で見てきた素晴らしい展示（この3人以外にも、写楽と歌麿も取り上げ、『夢の競演』（笑）の名前に負けない展示でした）！以前から憧れていた、妖怪を頻繁に取り上げる国芳の絵を初めてきちんと見ることができました。

*****

2日目は坪田譲治の『日本むかしばなし集』（3冊シリーズ）。子供の頃買ったり借りたりした数多くの昔話の中でも、最も読みやすく、いろいろな話が詰まっていて面白かったのを覚えています。

グリムやアンデルセンはじめ、世界中の民話、童話、昔話が大好きで、いろいろ読みましたが、昔の生活では、人と不思議な生き物が共存していたのが、子供としてはとても羨ましかったです。特に日本のお話は、八百万にも通ずることだと思いますが、動物のみならず、石のようなものにも、山や沼といった場所にも、魂や神様や主がいるのが素敵だと思いました。そんな中でも、常に人の生活に近いところにいる「妖怪」がとても好きで、かわいかったりいたずら好きだったりするものの、座敷童はじめ、その多くに悲しい起源があること、全体として人間と関わりたいという物悲しさがあることにとても惹かれています。

Some of the many yokai-themed books I have. I’m especially excited about the “survival guide” in English!
妖怪をテーマとした本は、見ていて本当に面白くて、つい買ってしまいます。英語で書いてあるものを発見したときは飛び上がって喜んでしまいました。

坪田さんの本を含め、昔話のおかげで私は、日本で暮らしていなかったときにも、日本の歴史や伝統文化を学ぶことができました。私もいつか、妖怪を含め、こういったお話を次世代に伝えていくことができれば、と思います。

Western monsters are somehow very different from yokai! (Ok, so “Monsters, Inc.” is a category of its own and doesn’t represent all monsters in Western culture, but still…!) This photo is from a great exhibit at the Franklin Institute that explained the technology behind Pixar animations!
西洋のモンスターと妖怪は全然違います。『モンスターズ・インク』はもちろん独自のカテゴリーのもので、西洋のモンスターを代表するものではないけれど。写真はピクサーのアニメの技術を説明した、素晴らしい展示から。
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7-Day Book Cover Challenge (Day 1): “Matilda”

Introduction:

This bilingual post was originally written for social media, and is part of the “7 day book cover challenge.”

「7日間のブックカバーチャレンジ（1日目）：『マチルダは小さな大天才』」

この投稿は、もとはSNSのブックカバーチャレンジのために書かれたものです。英語の本文の後に日本語が続きます。

I’ve spent way too long agonizing about the seven-day book cover challenge, which I know is only meant to be fun! The more I saw posts from friends about unique book selections, the more embarrassed I felt about how much I haven’t read recently, especially for someone who professes to love words. But I’ve decided to choose seven books that have meant the most to me in my life. After moving a dozen times, most of these books are buried way deep in a box somewhere in the attic of my parents’ house, so I’ve borrowed the cover photos from online.

In somewhat chronological order that I’ve read them, the first book is Roald Dahl’s Matilda. I read almost every children’s book by Dahl. I think I first learned about him when my third grade teacher, Ms. Kakugawa, read us The Witches–which was a bit scary but very thrilling. The first book I (or rather, my parents!) bought was Fantastic Mr. Fox, then the collection grew from there. Even after my parents and I moved to Tokyo when I was nine years old, my father continued to buy Dahl’s books whenever he went to the U.S. on business trips, and so they were some of the few English language books I could continue to read in Japan.

What makes Dahl’s books wonderful are how much children are empowered, even when their circumstances are less than ideal. When I grew older and began reading Charles Dickens, I recognized so many common themes: the difficult childhoods, mean adults, and amazing naming sense (Miss Trunchbull and Uriah Heep should belong in the same world–just imagining their encounter makes me chuckle!). And Quentin Blake’s illustrations are simply wonderful! They are so simple and cute, but somehow convey the personality of the characters.

While Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, James and the Giant Peach, The BFG, and more are all iconic, Matilda is my favorite. She’s a (somewhat socially awkward) bibliophile who finds happiness in the end. I’ve thought back often to the list of books that Matilda read— but I still haven’t caught up! A few years ago, I got to see a musical version of the book, and that was great, too (my favorite is this song), especially its fun play on all the alphabets)!

As an adult, I’ve learned about some of the controversies that surround Dahl, and that saddens me. Still, I like how feminist Matilda is–it’s about a young girl who stands up for herself, along with the help of a woman mentor (Miss Honey). It brought me so much joy as a child, and I hope I can do the same for others someday.

The musical was in San Francisco before it came to DC (I was so excited to see a poster during a business trip there!).

*****

友人からいただいた「7日間のブックカバーチャレンジ」。他の方の素晴らしいセレクションを見て、最近読書から離れてしまっていることを恥ずかしく思うとともに、7冊に絞ることに随分長いこと悩んでしまいましたが、勇気を出して、自分のこれまでの人生にとって重要な7冊を選んでみました。ほとんどの本が実家にあるので、オンラインから借りた写真で代用します。

1日目はロアルド・ダールの『マチルダはちいさな大天才』。ダールの児童向けの本はほぼ全部読みましたが、本好きでちょっと孤独な主人公に共感しました。日本に引っ越してからも、出張でアメリカに行くたびに父がせっせと買ってくれたので、日本でも細々と英語の読書を続けることができました。

『マチルダ』は静かながらも強い女性が何人も登場して、とても素敵です。子供の頃私が元気をもらえたように、私もいつか文章を通じて誰かを励ますことができたら、と思います。

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A life dedicated to music

–Remembering Mariss Jansons

Details of the June 2nd concert that we attended. (Screenshot from the Vienna Philharmonic website.)

I am saddened to hear that the conductor Mariss Jansons has passed away.

I am embarrassed to say that I did not know of him until this past June–when my father and I attended a concert in Vienna that Mr. Jansons conducted. My parents and I were traveling in Vienna for about a week, and it was just a few days before we left.

My father is a huge fan of classical music. He owns thousands of CDs, several of them works by the same composers but conducted by different maestros or performed by different orchestras. Every weekend and many weeknights, he spends time relaxing in his “music room” with a good book. When we travel together, he’s often gone to classical concerts on his own, like at the Lincoln Center in New York, while my mother and I explore the locale in other ways.

So when my father said that he wanted to go see a concert by the Vienna Philharmonic, it completely made sense. But what made things complicated was that the concert my father wanted to attend was only open to members of the Philharmonic. The general public could only get in if there are additional openings or cancellations that morning.

On the day of the concert, my parents and I stood in line at the ticketing office, but were told that no tickets remained. My father was very disappointed–that’s when I found that, despite his many visits to Vienna, he’d never seen the Philharmonic perform locally–and we decided to at least take photos in front of the beautiful Musikverein concert hall. My father pointed to signs of the event and told us that he’d wanted to see this particular conductor, Mr. Jansons. I didn’t know how to console my father, and we just quietly took photos as dozens of people walked past us to enter the building.

Musikverein Concert Hall

A small miracle

That’s when something magical happened. A middle-aged lady approached us out of the blue, and asked us in English if we would like to have an extra ticket in the standing room. We hesitated for a second, caught by surprise. Then, another young man approached us and said that he could give us his ticket, too. My mother quickly encouraged us both to go, and it was decided. We rushed into the concert hall with five minutes to go until the concert began.

I had assumed that the tickets gave us some sort of assignment on where to stand (operas at Lincoln Center have individual areas where each person can stand), but that wasn’t the case. My father and I arrived at an area at the very back of the orchestra level. Much taller individuals already occupied the front, and we couldn’t see anything. Still, we were grateful for any space.

Mr. Jansons’s conducting

The orchestra performed Schumann’s Symphony No. 1 in B-flat major (Op. 38). I listened while I marveled at the gorgeous chandeliers and gold interior of the music hall (basically the parts that I could see above people’s heads). During the break some people left, and my father now seemed to have a view of the orchestra and Mr. Jansons. I still saw nothing and continued to listen as the orchestra performed Hector Berlioz’s Fantastical Symphony: An Episode in the Life of an Artist (Op. 14).

After Berlioz’s symphony ended, there was a slight moment of silence. Then the applause began, and roared on for many minutes. I turned to my father, hoping to talk to him. He was beaming and clapping enthusiastically, not even noticing that I had turned to him. That’s when I realized how much attending this concert had meant to him.

As people began to clear out, my father, still seemingly in a daze, asked if I saw the end of Berlioz’s symphony. When I said no, he began to explain what had happened during that moment of silence. Apparently, Mr. Jansons’s body was bent at an angle the whole time he was conducting–and after the performance ended, he had been frozen in place, unable to move. Members of the orchestra who realized what had happened came up and helped him down–and that’s when the audience began their applause.

As my father told this story, he choked up several times, touched by Mr. Jansons’ dedication to his craft. I was shocked. This was the first time in my life that I had seen him cry. I teared up, too, both from seeing my father’s reaction and from picturing Mr. Jansons’ bent back. My father mentioned that he was surprised to see how much Mr. Jansons had aged since the last time he’d seen him.

During the break

Youth and classical music

After this concert, my father and I searched various news about Mr. Jansons, worried for his health. Nothing came up–and to my relief and surprise, I found that he had conducted in Hamburg and Paris just a few days after this Vienna performance. I read that he’d once had a heart attack while conducting, and once again marveled at his commitment.

I also found this short interview on the Vienna Philharmonic Facebook page, where he talks about the importance to instill a love for classical music in the young generation. “I believe classical music will survive,” he says. And that I know to be true–partly because of him. Because on that day, the crowded standing space my father and I joined was full of young people who seemed to be college students. Many wore casual clothes like jeans and cotton dresses. During the latter half, when there was more space, some even sat on the floor, leaning against the wall and closing their eyes. After the concert I heard some of them exchanging their impressions in English. They seemed to know both symphonies well and shared their excitement to see Mr. Jansons on stage.

Unlike these youth who knew what a star Mr. Jansons was, all I did was tag along with my father. But I feel very fortunate to have heard his conducting in person, especially after getting tickets at the last minute (there were so many others in front of Musikverein, and it’s amazing that we received tickets from two individuals). I am so glad to have seen how much Mr. Jansons inspired my father as well as everyone in the audience–indeed, encompassing all generations and nationalities.