Wednesday, May 28, 2008

The run-on sentences of Suzumiya Haruhi

As I was going through some boxes the other day, I came across my copy of the first 涼宮ハルヒの憂鬱 book (Suzimya Haruhi no Yuuutsu, or The Melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi). Most people probably know the very popular anime of the same name best.

Leafing through it, I was reminded how I love the book's narration style, especially the artful use of run-on sentences. The very first sentence of the books is:

サンタクロースをいつまで信じていたかなんてことはたわいもない世間話にもならないくらいのどうでもいいような話だが、それでも俺がいつまでサンタなどという想像上の赤服じーさんを信じていたかと言うとこれは確信を持って言えるが最初から信じてなどいながった。


A translation without adding any punctuation would be something like:

“How long did you believe in Santa Clause” is a trivial subject not even worthy of being the topic of idle chatter, but even so if I were to say how long I believed in an imaginary old man in red clothes like Santa I can say with confidence that I didn't believe in him from the beginning.


Whew! At least the author gives us one comma to take a breath. Because of word order differences this kind of narration is hard to translate into English. This wiki translation breaks that sentence up into three sentences. That's probably more natural for English speakers, but I think it looses some of the flavor of the original.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

Superpowers old and new

You know how in comic books or other superhero stories, there are many cases where the author must invent transparent reasons why the one superpower* that would be extremely helpful in a particular situation can't be used? Well, that's been going on for hundreds of years. Take this excerpt from Journey to the West a story about a Chinese monk who travels west to bring back Buddhist scriptures, and is accompanied by a monkey and a pig with supernatural powers (From W.J.F. Jenner's translation, p. 511):


[Monkey said] “My somersault cloud can cover thirty-six thousand miles with a single bound. To do a mere two-thousand-mile return journey takes only a couple of nods and a bow – there's nothing to it.” “If it's so easy, brother,” said Pig, “you should carry the master on your back, take him across [the river] with just a couple of nods and a bow, and save us all the trouble of fighting the monster [in the river].” “You can ride clouds, can't you?” said Monkey. “Why don't you carry the master across?” “The master's mortal flesh and bones are heavier than Mount Tai,” said Pig, “So although I can ride clouds I could never lift him. Nothing but your somersault will do the trick.” “My somersault is the same as could-riding.” Monkey said, “except that it takes you further. I'm no more able to carry him than you are. As the old saying goes, 'Mount Tai is as easy to move as a mustard seed, but a mortal cannot be dragged away from the earthly dust.' ...Although our master cannot escape from the sea of suffering he wants to go to a foreign land, so he finds every inch of the way heavy-going. All we can do is escort him and see that he comes to no harm. We can't undergo all that suffering on his behalf, nor can we fetch the scriptures for him. Even if we went ahead to see the Buddha, he wouldn't give the scriptures to you or me.”


Apparently Ming dynasty readers, just like modern readers, wondered why Monkey and Pig didn't just use their super powers to solve the whole problem in a second and turn the 100 chapter story into a 20 chapter story. And just like today, the author had to explain why superpowers couldn't be used.

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* replace “superpower” with “technology,” and you have the premise of 80 percent of Star Trek episodes.

Thursday, May 15, 2008

Comments on Ōkami

Well, with the semester having ended I finally got a chance to finish playing Ōkami (Okami [Ookami], if your browser doesn't support the O-with-macron). There's a Wii version out now, but I've been playing the PS2 version.

I'm convinced the game started as a pun. You play as the sun goddess Amaterasu, incarnated as a wolf. Ōkami (大神), or “Great God” (part of Amaterasu's more formal name, Amaterasu no Ōkami) is homonymous with Ōkami (狼), or “wolf.” I imagine a couple Clover employees were in a bar one night after work, getting a little drunk. Their conversation became increasingly boisterous, and went something like:

Employee 1: Dude, wouldn't it be crazy if, like, an Ōkami were an Ōkami?
Embloyee 2: (Trying hard to process that) Uh, what?
Employee 1: You know, like if an Ōkami from the Kojiki or something were an Ōkami, like a dog.
Embloyee 2: Oh... yeah, that WOULD be crazy!


The next morning they were hung over and remembered nothing of the conversation, but in one of their pockets they found a crumpled napkin with the idea scrawled on it, and the game was born.


The game is a delightful romp (yes, I just wrote “delightful romp”) through the world of classical Japanese literature. In addition to the Kojiki, there are references to Issun Bōshi, Taketori Monogatari, Urashima Tarō, Shita-kiri_Suzume and Hakkenden. Even Benkei makes a cameo, as does Yoichi from Heike Monogatari. The capital city, Seian-kyō, is an obvious allusion to Heian-kyō, which is the centerpiece of the great body of Heian literature, including Genji Monogatari. I'm sure there are other references I didn't catch as well.

However, the most interesting aspect of the game is the main character. Amaterasu is generally the most revered deity in the Japanese pantheon, yet in the game she is depicted as a wolf, doing various things that are very recognizably canine; barking, growling, cocking her head, howling, curling up and napping, etc. She is accompanied throughout the game by Issun, who in addition to providing helpful explanations to the player also regularly berates Amaterasu for her slowness or misguidedness and addresses her by a pet name.

Because of this it is tempting to view Ōkami as an attempt to demystify Amaterasu. However, I think that would be ultimately incorrect. For one thing, Amaterasu does not speak, even to people who are able to understand animals. Lack of speech is, of course, very mystifying. Furthermore, she is portrayed as a weakened version of her true self. Throughout the game the player must strive to recover Amaterasu's thirteen “brush techniques,” which she uses to draw on the canvas of reality and create small miracles. At the end of the game, with the help of the prayers of all the people she has met, Amaterasu's true power is restored, and she becomes radiant and powerful. Naturally the player is only allowed to finish off the final boss battle with Amaterasu in this form, not perform any of the more mundane tasks that make up the staple of the game. So in the end the mystification of Amaterasu in her true form is maintained.

Most conspicuous, however, is the absence of Amaterasu's most prominent role: the ancestor of Japan's emperors. All Japan's emperors, including the current Akihito, can trace their lineage back to Amaterasu herself, thereby creating not only a divine right to rule but a personal divinity as well. In the game, there is no mention of this link at all. Amaterasu meets the emperor, but he does not show any signs of recognizing her as an ancestor, or even a goddess. In fact, the emperor is portrayed as an unremarkable, overweight, middle aged man more concerned with trading curio items than anything else.

Therefore it is clear that the game demystifies the emperor and de-links Amaterasu from him. At the same time it seems to maintain the mystification of Amaterasu herself. What can we make of this?

I think the game attempts to transform Amaterasu into a goddess suitable for the modern era. In the final stages of the game, Amaterasu regains her true power when all the people she has encountered throughout the game offer prayers to her. Significantly, she is portrayed as being accessible to everyone, not just the imperial clan. Worship of Amaterasu is not an exclusive imperial domain but appropriate for all people. Therefore, the game can be interpreted as an attempt to transform Amaterasu from an imperial deity into a national deity. Her worship (and, presumably, largess) sphere is shifted from a clan identity to a democratic, national identity.

How appropriate, then, that her “rising sun” brush technique, which the player can use to turn night into day, looks remarkably similar to the old Japanese flag, a powerful symbol of nationhood.