A Chicago Style Manual-type guide for anyone working on English-language publications about Japan. Primarily for nonspecialists, it also contains advice and lists of resources for translators and researchers.
Looks at Wright's formal and philosophical debt to Japanese art and architecture. Eight areas of influence are examined in detail, from Japanese prints to specific individuals and publications, and are illustrated with text and drawn analyses.
Did you know that in Hungary, pigs go rof-rof-rof, but in Japan they go boo boo boo? That there’s apparently the need in Bolivia for a word that means "I was rather too drunk last night but it was all their fault"? Adam Jacot de Boinod's book on extraordinary words from around the world will give you the definitions and phrases you need to make friends in every culture. A true writer's resource and the perfect gift for linguists, librarians, logophiles, and international jet-setters. While there’s no guarantee you’ll never pana po’o again (Hawaiian for "scratch your head in order to help you remember something you’ve forgotten"), or mingmu (Chinese for "die without regret"), at least you’ll know what tingo means, and that’s a start. “A book no well-stocked bookshelf, cistern top or handbag should be without. At last we know those Eskimo words for snow and how the Dutch render the sound of Rice Krispies. Adam Jacot de Boinod has produced an absolutely delicious little book: It goes Pif! Paf! Pouf! Cric! Crac! Croc! and Knisper! Knasper! Knusper! on every page.”—Stephen Fry
A New York Times Notable Book for 2011 One of The Economist's 2011 Books of the Year People speak different languages, and always have. The Ancient Greeks took no notice of anything unless it was said in Greek; the Romans made everyone speak Latin; and in India, people learned their neighbors' languages—as did many ordinary Europeans in times past (Christopher Columbus knew Italian, Portuguese, and Castilian Spanish as well as the classical languages). But today, we all use translation to cope with the diversity of languages. Without translation there would be no world news, not much of a reading list in any subject at college, no repair manuals for cars or planes; we wouldn't even be able to put together flat-pack furniture. Is That a Fish in Your Ear? ranges across the whole of human experience, from foreign films to philosophy, to show why translation is at the heart of what we do and who we are. Among many other things, David Bellos asks: What's the difference between translating unprepared natural speech and translating Madame Bovary? How do you translate a joke? What's the difference between a native tongue and a learned one? Can you translate between any pair of languages, or only between some? What really goes on when world leaders speak at the UN? Can machines ever replace human translators, and if not, why? But the biggest question Bellos asks is this: How do we ever really know that we've understood what anybody else says—in our own language or in another? Surprising, witty, and written with great joie de vivre, this book is all about how we comprehend other people and shows us how, ultimately, translation is another name for the human condition.
In mid-1960s Tokyo, Japan, where the aftereffects of World War II are still felt, eight-year-old Kazuo lives an ordinary life, watching American television shows, listening to British rock music, and dreaming of one day seeing the world.
Gregory Rabassa's influence as a translator is incalculable. His translations of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude and Julio Cortazar's Hopscotch have helped make these some of the most widely read and respected works in world literature. (Garcia Marquez was known to say that the English translation of One Hundred Years was better than the Spanish original.) In If This Be Treason: Translation and Its Dyscontents Rabassa offers a cool-headed and humorous defense of translation, laying out his views on the art of the craft. Anecdotal, and always illuminating, If This Be Treason traces Rabassa's career, from his boyhood on a New Hampshire farm, his school days "collecting" languages, the two-and-a-half years he spent overseas during WWII, his travels, until one day "I signed a contract to do my first translation of a long work [Cortazar's Hopscotch] for a commercial publisher." Rabassa concludes with his "rap sheet," a consideration of the various authors and the over 40 works he has translated. This long-awaited memoir is a joy to read, an instrumental guide to translating, and a look at the life of one of its great practitioners.
Distilled wisdom from two publishing pros for every serious nonfiction author in search of big commercial success. Over 50,000 books are published in America each year, the vast majority nonfiction. Even so, many writers are stymied in getting their books published, never mind gaining significant attention for their ideas—and substantial sales. This is the book editors have been recommending to would-be authors. Filled with trade secrets, Thinking Like Your Editor explains: • why every proposal should ask and answer five key questions; • how to tailor academic writing to a general reader, without losing ideas or dumbing down your work; • how to write a proposal that editors cannot ignore; • why the most important chapter is your introduction; • why "simple structure, complex ideas" is the mantra for creating serious nonfiction; • why smart nonfiction editors regularly reject great writing but find new arguments irresistible. Whatever the topic, from history to business, science to philosophy, law, or gender studies, this book is vital to every serious nonfiction writer.