Holmes of Kyoto TL and editors' notes

Translator’s Corner

Thank you for reading the English release of Holmes of Kyoto! As you may have
noticed, this series is steeped in historical and location-based references, and
a lot of research was needed to make sure the translation was factually sound.
I’ve been given this space to share some of the challenges and considerations
made in localizing this series.

...

Obscure Information: Most of the more obscure knowledge was explained in the
original text, but since it was written for a Japanese audience, there were some
things that were assumed to be common knowledge: religious traditions, famous
poems that would be taught in school, etc. The benefit of the novel format (as
opposed to manga or anything else with limited space) is that it’s easy to weave
in as many extra explanations as we want, and we were generous with those so
that English readers (hopefully) wouldn’t be too confused.

...

Antiques: Similar to above, since the series references real artists and types
of pottery, a lot of research was done to make sure the correct terminology was
being used. Some things were rather specific to Japanese traditional art and
didn’t have a whole lot of English coverage, so it was necessary to, say, look
up what a piece of pottery might’ve looked like and describe it accordingly.


Editor’s Corner

As readers of this series, we’re fortunate that Aoi is new to Kyoto and to the
antiques business. That means Holmes is often explaining things to her — and at
the same time, to us. It’s OK that none of us know who Ekaku Hakuin was, because
we’ve got Holmes to inform us that he was a Zen priest in the mid Edo period,
etc, etc. Holmes knows more than even the average Japanese reader would know
about art and antiques and about life in Kyoto and he’s always telling the other
characters about these things, so those cultural details are explained right
there in the original text. But Aoi and Holmes and the Japanese reader also
share a lot of knowledge that is not obvious to English-speaking readers. This
means that my job as editor involves repeatedly having one of these two
thoughts:

1. Wait, does everyone know this?
2. What??

Here’s the thing: Although we often use Japanese words in this series, we don’t
want to use words the reader won’t understand. There’s nothing that takes you
out of enjoying a story faster than having to wonder what the heck a word means.
It’s not supposed to feel like taking the SATs.

But where do we draw the line? What Japanese words can we assume the reader
already knows? Some are obvious: while 19th century travel guides in English
talked about “raw fish with vinegared rice,” we can use the word “sushi.” Others
might be more of a judgment call, but in a chapter that mentions “yakitori” just
once in passing, it’s easy to be cautious and use “chicken skewers.”

Then there are cases where I have to stop and remember that I can’t assume the
reader has the same obsessions with Japanese culture that I do. So for example,
at first I blithely sailed past the mention of ikebana in chapter 2. Then I had
second thoughts. Is that word common knowledge, or is it something I only know
because I personally have been reading, writing, and thinking about Japanese
gardening and Japanese crafts for many years?

Yes, it would have become pretty clear further along in the story. But while
this book is full of mysteries that don’t get solved till later, this wasn’t
supposed to be one of them. Still, the word is used over and over again, so
replacing it with “flower arranging” every single time seemed awkward.

So we used the word, but the first time it appeared, added a sentence explaining
that ikebana is the art of flower arranging. Aoi often explains things in her
narration that the reader may not exactly need to know, such as her precise,
turn-by-turn bike route to see cherry blossoms on the way to work at the store.
So a little added explanation won’t stand out as unnatural, and removes a bump
in the road for the reader who’s hearing the word for the first time or who only
has a vague notion of what it is.

It’s not always about individual words, though, like in another case where we
realized that a little cultural knowledge was needed to appreciate what was
going on. While preparing for the Festival, Holmes and Aoi have the following
exchange:

“Your yukata is backwards, Aoi,” Holmes said, chuckling.
My face flushed. “H-How silly of me.”

As it becomes clear in the next sentences, she’s not literally wearing it
backwards, like with the front opening in back; they’re just talking about how
she closed the front flaps. That doesn’t seem like that big a deal, so why is
she so embarrassed? We added the unspoken realization that the Japanese reader
would know is behind this:

"Oh no. I’d put the kimono on in the way a dead body is dressed for a funeral."

Without knowing this, the reader might think it’s just some silly fashion rule,
and Aoi might seem to be overreacting.