For this section of The Pillow Book, it would be interesting to know precisely which characters Shônagon was thinking about, so we should be wary of how exactly our chosen edition arrived at its kanji. Unfortunately I know next to nothing about the different manuscript lineages, but since the 11th-century original was kana literature (wabun), I suppose that’s a bit of a moot point anyway—we can’t have primary evidence of her intentions. Therefore, for this post, I’ll just use the University of Virginia’s E-text version, which is based on the 1929 Yûhôdô 有朋堂 edition, itself based on the Nôinbon manuscripts:
Pictography: Drawings that portray things directly, without reference to language. Not writing, but a “forerunner”.
“Zodiography”: Pictography of words. Can be the same graphs as in pictography, but now they’re taken to represent words in a language; i.e. each graph now has a phonetic (P) and a semantic (S) value. This is the first stage in which specific linguistic utterances can be represented, though not any utterance.
Graphic multivalence: The zodiographs are extended in one of two ways:
I like The Sounds of the World’s Languages a lot. If you’re used to think in phonological terms, it greatly expands your simple model with real-world phonetic quirks. (For example, it turns out vowel “height” and “backness” are not actually very correlated with the position of the highest point of the tongue, though the two properties are real enough in the acoustic level).
One fun way to browse a book like this is to look for “your” languages in the index and peek ahead. I learned quite a few neat things about Chinese and Icelandic this way, but since the focus of this blog is Japanese, have some Japanese-related tidbits to whet your appetite:
The Bullshidô guys can complain all they want that Shôrinji Kempô has not enough aliveness, or that the clothes are too fancy etc., but does MMA have a theme song?? Does it? Of course it doesn’t! Shorinji Kempô: the only martial art with a theme song!
Once again I face the end of Sunday night having written nothing, and with an exam due tomorrow. If I try to work on one thing, I’ll feel guilty about the other. Then I figured: why not post about the exam contents? 一石二鳥！
Jeg kan ikke norsk! Jeg kan ikke snakke litt norsk, even. And that’s quite worrying since Norwegian exams are coming, er, in 2 dager. Being unable to write much about Japanske at the moment, I bring as an offering this manga I found last week for R$1:
The other day there was a discussion on No-Sword that turned to the topic of word separation, and I’d like to salvage my comments and throw together a post, even if it’s redundant—there are a couple of interesting papers that I believe are deserving of more exposure.
Japanese, like the scriptio continua of Classical Greek and Latin, is written without spaces; but romanized Japanese needs spacing, and, lacking a well-established tradition, we are often at a loss on whether to space a compound or not (akishigure, aki-shigure, aki shigure?). Investigating this opens a whole can of worms. Valéry once said that words are like fragile planks over the abyss; we cross words to reach meaning everyday without any difficulty, but if you stop on top of a word to examine it—say, “time” or “being”—the word promptly breaks and you find yourself falling. And this applies to the word “word” itself. The way I see it, there are at least three major usages of “word”:
Back in my youth, I thought that One Day I’d know enough Japanese to translate the songs of rock bands I like, and I’d become famous and loved as an Internet lyrics translator. This memory popped out of the blue, and I thought: I wonder if I could do it already? I’ve read the original for Rashômon, after all, and this isn’t Onmyô-za; how hard it could be?
Pardonne-moi, readers, for again I find myself too exhausted to blog. I’ll take the easy way out by merely pointing you to a totally rad paper I found some days ago: Orientomology: The Insect Literature of Lafcadio Hearn (1850–1904). Kudos to David B. Lurie for not only writing it, but also making it freely available outside paywalls—he has some more stuff on his site, so I hope he won’t mind if I make this non-rotated version available here, for the benefit of those without a rotating browser plugin.
I’m tired of the social barriers that a foreigner faces when trying to study Japanese culture (beyond anime). I’ve decided to change fields once again, and move into ethnometeorology. To start with, let’s see a few poetical Japanese words for clouds and… Shimatta! Forget it, I suck at this. I can’t do April Fools—I wouldn’t be able to keep a poker face for my life.
Despite his taste for folklore and bestiaries (which Kappa satirizes, along with lots of other things), and despite his more accessible stories, Akutagawa Ryûnosuke certainly wasn’t a fantasy or sci-fi author. I feel a little bit dirty by doing this to serious capital-L Literary Literature. But (to paraphrase Zhuang-zi) how could someone of my persuasion, already being of my persuasion, decide otherwise? So, here’s everything we know of Kappanese: