Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
What kind of dream was it? Well, I'll just quote the paper and you can take a guess: "as a host of studies have shown, most of our dreams are bad."
Interestingly, this science-section story features a creative video. But is it a realistic portrayal of dream-work or an imitation of Bunuel-Dali surrealism, or both? My first impression is that it's a fairly predictable imitation on its own merits--but it's transfixing as an illustration to a science story in the NY Times.
So, music: given this intrusion, and my recent, um, study habits, Morissey's "The More You Ignore Me the Closer I Get" seems appropriate (where I am "you" and Japanese is "I"):
Sunday, October 21, 2007
"If I Had a Hammer" was one of my parents' standard lullabies, and I still prefer it sung a cappella, half as fast (at most), and by my mother. She has a singing voice only a son could love, but for me she's next to Joan Baez (to whom she seems to bear some resemblance -- from a sufficient distance -- in pictures from the late 60s):
1. The first article, "Fearing Crime, Japanese Wear the Hiding Place," is about clothing that doubles as urban camouflage to elude would-be criminals.
"Japan’s ideas about crime prevention are a product of deeper cultural differences. While Americans want to protect themselves from criminals, or even strike back, the creators say many Japanese favor camouflage and deception, reflecting a culture that abhors self-assertion, even in self-defense. 'It is just easier for Japanese to hide,' Ms. Tsukioka said. 'Making a scene would be too embarrassing.'"
Do not miss the slide show.
2. The second article is a profile of a Japanese royal, cousin of the current Emperor.
"NEVER tight-lipped about his recurring battle with cancer, he still surprised many Japanese by admitting that he was an alcoholic and checking himself into rehab over the summer. Family problems, he explained.
"The inevitable strain of a quarter-century marriage, a cousin’s cryptic comments, existential questions about the nature of family and life itself, all of this, he said openly, had contributed to his heavier-than-usual drinking."Just when I was doubting whether I chose the right language this semester... thank you NY Times!
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
とうきょうのちかてつはすてきです--if you're short. I thought Paris, DC, Rome, and Vienna were ok; London and Prague were adventures. Brussels, Lille, and Seoul were pretty good. I still think that riding a subway is like being in a sci-fi movie--the subway is a marvel of human ingenuity, but more dystopian than not.
Characters occasionally thrive despite their foreignness. When Nickelodeon looked into bringing SpongeBob SquarePants to Japan, market research said the show was bound to flop. Japanese viewers were believed to favor characters whose appearance exudes warmth and comfort, a concept known in Japanese as iyashi. Iyashi characters -- typically round, with no mouth and small eyes -- rose to prominence in Japan during the long-running economic slump that began in the early 1990s, when people were anxious and uncertain about the future.
SpongeBob, with his square body, huge mouth, buckteeth, big bug eyes and somewhat annoying personality, was the antithesis of iyashi. But viewers didn't mind: Nearly two million households soon tuned into the show every day. One thing that may have helped is that SpongeBob lives in an undersea world without humans and overt cultural references. "There is very little about SpongeBob that is 'American,'" says Cyma Zarghami, president of the Nickelodeon MTV Networks Kids and Family Group.
When Craig McCracken created the Powerpuff Girls show, he deliberately gave it what he thought was a "Japanese look." But when the show first aired in Japan in 2001, it failed to attract a wide audience. So Cartoon Network decided to reinvent the characters to boost its appeal in Japan, an idea Mr. McCracken welcomed.
In their transcreation, Blossom, Buttercup and Bubbles got Japanese names and the lives of typical Japanese junior-high-school students. Since Japanese kids like to dress up like their favorite characters, the girls got more realistic outfits, with miniskirts, matching vests and hip-hugging belts.
Toei Co., the Japanese animation house brought in to help rework the characters, kept the original Powerpuff premise of crime-fighting girls with superhuman powers. To appeal to a preference among Japanese children for longer, more dramatic plots, it made the seven- to 11-minute shows 15 to 20 minutes long. It also gave them a common Japanese theme: accepting people who are different.
"Monsters can be anyone who is different from us. If we change our attitude, they can become our friends," says Hiromi Seki, a producer at Toei who helped create the show. That's a particularly relevant message in Japan, where the pressures among children to conform are very intense.
In one episode, an evil character threatens to bring about an eruption of Mount Fuji that would make Tokyo unbearably hot and spark global climate change. In another episode, a heartbroken performer of traditional kabuki theater turns into a monster and wreaks havoc on his community.
"In Japan, girly love themes are a must," Ms. Seki says. When "Demashita! Powerpuff Girls Z" was launched in Japan a year ago, the executives at Cartoon Network soon realized that the revamped plots and skimpier outfits not only attracted young girls, they also broadened the audience to include animation-obsessed adult men known in Japan as otaku, or geeks, who were also fans of the original.
So the network came out with special consumer goods like bookmarks, limited-edition DVDs and pop music targeted at viewers like Hironobu Kamata, a 42-year-old manager of a copyright office in Tokyo. Mr. Kamata wakes up every Saturday morning to watch the Powerpuff Girls.
His favorite character is Miyako Goutokuji, the blond girl known as Bubbles in the U.S. "I love it all! The characters are so cute," says Mr. Kamata.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Monday, October 15, 2007
Sensei has asked us to post on what makes a good podcast. I've actually never listened to a podcast before. And I don't have an ipod, which I assume is related. Clearly, my idea of a good podcast is one that rants like a cranky old Luddite.
But seriously: A good podcast would be not too boring and not too dumb. I hesitate to suggest more specific criteria until I learn more about podcasts.
But in honor of the Chinese Communist Party's National Congress, which started today, and of my recent readings on the Chinese Cultural Revolution, I further suggest that a good podcast avoids:
-- blind actionism
-- snakes, dragons, and poisonous weeds
-- waving the red flag to oppose the red flag
-- the Lui-Deng line
-- opposing the principle of being both red and expert
-- opportunist deviations
-- great-power chauvinism
Friday, October 12, 2007
But first, congratulations to the girl who refused to show me the Yasakuni shrine when I was in Tokyo: she just got a job at NHK, which is apparently the Japanese BBC. (I didn't know what the shrine was at the time; another friend suggested that we go there. Instead, we visited a Buddhist shrine, a private garden, and a museum for a Japanese movie legend, Torasan. (Sensei, sound familiar?) Of course, there was no English in this museum, but she was sweet and patient. And I ate soba noodles for the first time.)
So the French. You might have noticed that this blog is almost entirely in English. Well, Sensei tells us that writing in Japanese is The Next Big Thing. But unlike my more advanced classmates, I'll have to ease my way out of English by writing in another foreign language first.
Je m'excuse d'avance: j'écris sous le signe d'un rhum imminent et souffre donc d'un grand narcissisme, avec mes souvenirs d'enfances (des offices de ma mère...), etc. Mais je me sens aussi obligé de rendre ce blogpost assez intéressant pour ceux qui s'obstinent à le lire:
Malgré ce que peut laisser croire les romans de portables (q.v.), les japonais ne sont pas assez chauds, paraît-il. J'ai lu qu'ils avaient des relations intimes les moins fréquemment des nations développées (43 fois par an en moyen). Et ensuite un article dans Le Monde sur les conséquences démographiques: des experts préconisent la disparition des japonais en 800 ans. Mais qui sait: 800 ans, c'est longtemps, et puis les japonais ne sont peut-être pas les plus froids, mais les plus honnêtes, ou les plus modestes, en répondant aux sondeurs.
En réponse à une remarque hier sur mon post précédent: à mon avis il est dégueulasse de voir certains japonais se cacher derrière les bombes atomiques pour minimiser leurs crimes et leur responsabilité pour la deuxième guerre mondiale. Certes, le bombardement était un événement horrible, mais il figurait dans une grande série d'événements horribles. Les alternatifs n'auraient pas été forcément mieux, et d'ailleurs il aurait fallu 50 bombes atomiques en plus pour tuer autant de civils japonais que le nombre de victimes des crimes de guerre japonaises. J'ajoute qu'un ami asiatique a été scandalisé par les propos cités, surtout sur la défense (ou même le déni) de l'impérialisme japonais. Si on était en Chine en 1967, disons, je serais tenté d'écrire une affiche accusant quelqu'un d'être un Khrushchev.
Et passant du coq à l'âne (expression que j'adore -- pour sa traduction mot par mot en anglais, gardant les racines), j'ai enfin lu un livre en français! C'est le premier en deux ans, je craigns. C'était Le Vent par Claude Simon: un roman intéressant, mais aussi frustrant et un peu pédant.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
"Already 78 years old and in failing health, the Rev. Shigeaki Kinjo no longer wanted to talk about that fateful day 62 years ago toward the end of World War II when he beat to death his mother, younger brother and sister.
"Brainwashed by Japanese Imperial Army soldiers into believing that victorious American troops would rape all the local women and run over the men with their tanks, Mr. Kinjo and others in his village here in Okinawa thought that suicide was their only choice. A week before American troops landed and initiated the Battle of Okinawa in March 1945, Japanese soldiers stationed in his village gave the men two hand grenades each, with instructions to hurl one at the Americans and then to kill themselves with the other. [...]
"Mr. Kinjo agreed to tell his story again because the Japanese government is now denying, in new high school textbooks, that Okinawans had been coerced by Imperial troops into committing mass suicide. [...]
"After the Americans landed, Japanese soldiers expelled Okinawans from shelters and used them as human shields. Thousands are believed to have committed suicide in villages occupied by Japanese soldiers; mass suicides did not take place where there were no soldiers."
Friday, October 5, 2007
If I had special powers, I assure you that my very first exercise of them would be to arrive to class on time, every single day. Alas, I have none.
It pains me nearly as much as it must pain you when I lumber in late with my laptop. Is it not richly ironic that I myself taught for two years, and nothing (to exaggerate slightly) galled me so much as my students' tardiness?
(Even if my only special power were that of invisibility, and I could thereby sidestep the drama of a conspicuous late entrance, I realize that you might still find it unsettling if I simply showed up in my seat five minutes into class.)
So it goes without saying that I sympathize deeply with your vexation--I share it, in fact. If I had any power at all to alleviate it, please believe me when I say that I would not fail to do so.