Haruki Murakami, Classical Performance Practice, and the Art of Literary and Musical “Translation”
Like many avid readers of our time, ever since I read 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami during my undergraduate years, I have been a fan of his novels, always eagerly anticipating the release of his next work. Murakami’s words effortlessly transport us into a different world, making our current surroundings seem strange and mediocre upon putting his works down. His novels are the perfect means of escapism, but they continue to influence our perspective on the world long after we finish the last sentence.
A couple of years ago, I was at a party in Osaka, Japan and I casually brought up my love for Murakami novels to a Japanese lady I was having a conversation with. She immediately rolled her eyes and laughed: “That stuff puts me to sleep,” she said. Afterwards, she turned to others at the party, saying: “This girl from America likes Murakami!” Everybody at the party responded with raised eyebrows and surprise, and what baffled me the most – not a single person at that party was a Murakami fan! (On the other hand, every single person at that party was a fan of classical music, so I still had a fine time.)
Five years later, I’m reminded of this party after just finishing the intriguing work of David Karashima, Who We’re Reading When We’re Reading Murakami. The people at the party were probably not representative of all Japanese readers, as I’ve heard about Murakami’s cult-like status in Japan, which he moved to America to escape from. However, Karashima’s book, which is all about the “behind-the-scenes” people of the “Murakami industry,” especially translators, did make me realize that the Murakami we read and know here in America is different from the Murakami people in Japan read and know. Through synthesized interviews and correspondence with Murakami’s translators, editors, agents, and Murakami himself, Karashima shows us how the books were packaged in a very specific way for the Western market, allowing Murakami to become the global writer he is known as today. In a 2013 interview with The New Yorker, Jay Rubin (translator of The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, Norwegian Wood, After the Quake, After Dark, 1Q84) said: “When you read Haruki Murakami, you’re reading me, at least ninety-five per cent of the time.”
Throughout the years, Haruki Murakami used many different translators, and they all had their own styles. Karashima describes this as a contrast between “lively” versus “faithful.” In a 1991 interview with Publishers Weekly, Murakami mentioned how Alfred Birnbaum was his livelier translator, while Jay Rubin was always more concerned about being faithful to the original text. Birnbaum was known to take drastic freedoms in his translations. For example, what we know here in America as A Wild Sheep Chase was The Adventure of the Sheep in the original Japanese. Birnbaum also significantly abridged Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, saying that “American readers aren’t as patient as Japanese readers.” Rubin has also made drastic changes to Murakami’s stories, sometimes simplifying passages to half their original length. All the English translations seem to move at a slightly faster pace, reminding me of the Japanese lady who said that Murakami puts her to sleep. For me, one thing I’ve always loved about reading “Murakami’s” novels is the satisfying pace that they develop at, but I now realize that that may only be a feature of the English translations.
My first reaction when learning about the translators behind the “Murakami industry” was that of disappointment. Afterall, it made me feel like all these years of being a “Murakami fan,” I never truly read his works. Then I realized that many times, the misconceptions that people have about literary translators (that their job is just to translate sentences from one language to another) is similar to misconceptions that people have about classical musicians (that our job is just to play all the notes on a score correctly.)
Yes, as classical musicians, we do spend a lot of time on “decoding” the score, but I have always considered this “foundational” work, things that prepare me to do the actual bulk of what inspires me as a classical pianist: figuring out my personal take of the score based on my knowledge of historical context, and how to make my interpretation come across using my technical strengths and considering my technical limitations. Just like Murakami had his share of “lively” versus “faithful” translators, different composers also have their share of “lively” versus “faithful” performance interpretations. Each pianist will inevitably have their own take on tempo, dynamic range/extremes, and emphasis on articulation. Oftentimes, a different performance can completely change your view of the musical work, just like how a translator has a huge role in the outcome of whether a foreign book will sell well abroad.
Karashima writes a lot about how Murakami’s translators found a way to “package” his works for a Western audience. One of their methods was by cutting out materials to make the works feel more fast-paced. In an interview with Murakami, Murakami says that it’s ok to take out certain parts as long as the narrative flow isn’t interrupted, comparing this to a conductor’s choice to skip repeats in a Beethoven symphony.
Classical musicians, especially during these changing times, are also finding that keeping the audience in mind is especially significant. As our audiences change, so do our presented interpretations. As a conservatory student, whenever I performed for studio mates or for professors, I always tried my best to come across as a “faithful” interpreter of a composer’s works. However, the further away I get from my conservatory years of juries and competitions, I find myself slowly allowing myself more and more freedom in the way I play pieces. I guess I am going through what every performer goes through – alternating between the extremes of being a “faithful” interpreter to a “lively” interpreter, hoping that one day I will find a happy medium.
Just like there is more to being a literary translator than knowing the language, there is more to being a classical musician than having adequate technique and being a slave to notational accuracy. As I step further away from my days as a conservatory student and more into the role of a teacher, I hope that I can pass onto my students that a perfect technique is not the end-all goal of being a pianist, but rather, a means to a larger end. The better technique you have, the more freedom and options you have in your interpretive decisions, the same way a larger vocabulary gives you more possibilities of expression.
Over time, Murakami’s translation preferences have shifted, feeling the need to publish new translations of older novels. While Alfred Birnbaum was the translator who first introduced Murakami’s works to the West and elevated him to the status of the global writer he is now, Murakami eventually ended his partnership with him. Murakami felt that Birnbaum’s translations were highly effective when they came out, but he now wants translations that are on the more faithful side. Now that Murakami has such an established reputation in the West, he’s not worried about packaging his novels in a specific way to cater to Westerner’s specific tastes and attention spans. Birnbaum’s translations remain in print today, but some of his Murakami translations have been replaced by the newer translations by Jay Rubin, Philip Gabriel, and Ted Goossen, translators that, according to Murakami, are more authentic.
What an interesting process! I can’t help but make analogies to classical music, and what it is like trying to introduce classical music to a young piano student, or just anybody who is trying to get more into it. Usually, people are attracted to the younger and more flashy performers when first getting into classical music before they appreciate the more authentic and intellectual recordings of the legendary greats. And in the earlier years of learning piano, I see most of my students striving to be more like the flashy young virtuosi on the scene. However, I know that this is just a short-lived phase. I know that if they stick to it, as the years go by, their focus will slowly start to shift. They too will alternate between being “lively” and “faithful” interpreters, searching for the happy medium.