The very thing that drew me to the analysis of literary translations is the question of how humor and irony make it through the process. In my previous work I've used a number of passages from throughout a work to investigate this question.
Though I had previously done that very thing for this old translation of Arrowsmith, I had missed what is now, by Chapter 7, turning out to be a theme: Clif Clawson is very difficult to translate.
In Section IV, Clif says this to Leora: "Honey, I think a lot of Mart, and one time I was afraid the old kid was going to get tied up to -- to parties that would turn him into a hand-shaker. I'm a hand-shaker myself. I know less about medicine than Prof Robertshaw. But this boob has some conscience to him, and I'm so darn' glad he's playing around with a girl that's real folks and -- Oh, listen at me fallin' all over my clumsy feet! But I just mean I hope you won't mind Uncle Clif saying he does by golly like you a lot!"
Now, you can imagine the pitfalls for a translator. In this case, the idiom 'think a lot of' ended up rendered literally. That's doesn't change things terribly, but then 'this boob,' which clearly must refer to Martin, is taken to mean Robertshaw. Now the rest of it ends up as though it refers to the professor, which is to say, the rest of it is now nonsense.
Well, of course I fixed it. I'm writing a lot more Japanese from whole cloth than I ever expected. It's pretty darn fun, and a bit scary. Maybe someday some Japanese person will blog about all the mistakes that silly gaijin (foreigner) made when he tried to fix the original translation.
Sunday, December 27, 2015
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Clif and Simolea
In Chapter 7, Section IV, Clif has this to say to Martin and Leora: "Gosh, it's fierce I had to miss the select pleasures of an evening with Anxious Duer and associated highboys, and merely play a low game of poker -- in which Father deftly removed the sum of 6 simolea, point ten, from the foregathered bums and yahoos."
Now imagine you need to translate Clif's nonsense into another language. Actually, if it were pure nonsense it would be easier, since nonsense is nonsense. But, in the case of Clif, if one parses carefully, there is always sense buried amongst the non.
To get this into Japanese the translator had to first figure out what Clif was trying to say, and then convey that message, perhaps surrounded by culture appropriate nonsense.
How'd he do, in this case? Actually pretty well, but in the passage above Father, which I think is clearly a reference to Clif himself, comes out as the priest, and the tenth of a simoleon comes out as a game called point ten. The word simolea itself comes out as wild boar, but one has the sense that the translator really did understand this to be money, and that was the nonsense term chosen to represent it.
Still, in my research it's not clear that wild boar ever had anything to do with money in Japanese, whereas simoleon is, of course, a well established term in English. So, in an effort to not lose the underlying meaning, I went with the usual word for dollar and let other bits of nonsense remain. I can only hope Red would approve.
Now imagine you need to translate Clif's nonsense into another language. Actually, if it were pure nonsense it would be easier, since nonsense is nonsense. But, in the case of Clif, if one parses carefully, there is always sense buried amongst the non.
To get this into Japanese the translator had to first figure out what Clif was trying to say, and then convey that message, perhaps surrounded by culture appropriate nonsense.
How'd he do, in this case? Actually pretty well, but in the passage above Father, which I think is clearly a reference to Clif himself, comes out as the priest, and the tenth of a simoleon comes out as a game called point ten. The word simolea itself comes out as wild boar, but one has the sense that the translator really did understand this to be money, and that was the nonsense term chosen to represent it.
Still, in my research it's not clear that wild boar ever had anything to do with money in Japanese, whereas simoleon is, of course, a well established term in English. So, in an effort to not lose the underlying meaning, I went with the usual word for dollar and let other bits of nonsense remain. I can only hope Red would approve.
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Strangle Leora With Her Scarf
Early in Chapter 7, Martin has taken Leora to the medical school dance. Things start off slowly and at first he frets that she won't get a dance. Then, as she's out there dancing with one person after another, he begins to feel ignored, and comments to himself that she's out there having a good time, and he's left standing there holding her scarf.
Somehow the original translation came out as "I'm going to strangle her with her scarf!"
Could the translator have thought Martin was holding the ends of the scarf Leora was wearing as she danced? But that doesn't make a lot of sense either. Well, anyway, don't worry. I've fixed it in my version.
Somehow the original translation came out as "I'm going to strangle her with her scarf!"
Could the translator have thought Martin was holding the ends of the scarf Leora was wearing as she danced? But that doesn't make a lot of sense either. Well, anyway, don't worry. I've fixed it in my version.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
"Leora Bleated"
Near the end of Chapter 6, in Arrowsmith (page 69 in my Signet Classic edition), Martin and Madeline have met Leora at the Grand Hotel for lunch.
Shortly he will surprise them both, but for now they're sizing each other up, and Madeline is asking nurse-to-be Leora if she knows a certain doctor at her hospital...
"'No, I don't think I've met him yet,' Leora bleated."
I wasn't sure I liked the word used in the translation for 'bleated.' It generally means 'wince,' but can also be taken to mean 'falter.'
I set out to find an alternative, but the problem is that these kinds of words, describing either animal cries or human voice varieties, tend to be onomatopoeic in Japanese, and my study of both English and Japanese thesauruses doesn't leave me with anything I like better than the original translation.
I do find this general question interesting. Exactly what did Lewis mean by 'bleat?' I grew up on a farm and am plenty familiar with the bleats of sheep. But I really don't think Leora's voice sounded like that so much as it sounded sheepish. Even then, the Japanese approximations denoting meekness, shyness, embarrassment, docility, humility and so forth, seem to assume too much. Which leaves us back at 'falter,' at least for now.
Shortly he will surprise them both, but for now they're sizing each other up, and Madeline is asking nurse-to-be Leora if she knows a certain doctor at her hospital...
"'No, I don't think I've met him yet,' Leora bleated."
I wasn't sure I liked the word used in the translation for 'bleated.' It generally means 'wince,' but can also be taken to mean 'falter.'
I set out to find an alternative, but the problem is that these kinds of words, describing either animal cries or human voice varieties, tend to be onomatopoeic in Japanese, and my study of both English and Japanese thesauruses doesn't leave me with anything I like better than the original translation.
I do find this general question interesting. Exactly what did Lewis mean by 'bleat?' I grew up on a farm and am plenty familiar with the bleats of sheep. But I really don't think Leora's voice sounded like that so much as it sounded sheepish. Even then, the Japanese approximations denoting meekness, shyness, embarrassment, docility, humility and so forth, seem to assume too much. Which leaves us back at 'falter,' at least for now.
Friday, November 27, 2015
Japanese "Version"
By the way, for anyone interested, I have recently begun blogging about my Arrowsmith project in Japanese. Whereas this blog is about Arrowsmith and Lewis in general, that one is about Arrowsmith and Japanese in general.
Friday, November 13, 2015
Why Has Japanese Changed So Much?
A natural question to ask regarding my Arrowsmith project: Why is the 1924 original version still generally accessible to English speaking readers while the 1941 Japanese translation is much less accessible to modern Japanese readers?
Although there are also other forces at play, the answer lies largely in the way, and speed at which, Chinese characters have been simplified in Japan, and also in how usage of the characters has been regularized in recent years.
Simplified characters are also used in China; often the same or similar forms are used in Japan.Taiwan, however, tends to stick with older forms.
In some cases, one can look at an old character and see enough similarity with the modern version that, especially using contextual clues, it's fairly easy to decipher. Other cases are more difficult.
This character means body: 体. Not only is this important in a medical novel, but the character itself is used in quite a number of compounds, making it a very common character in general. The form of this character found in Arrowsmith is 體. This took a little getting used to.
The character that means meet, however, is a little easier to decipher. Modern: 会. Older: 會. Here's the character meaning country (USA, Japan, China): 国 versus 國. This one's a little easier not only because of the similarity, but because one still sees the older form in Japanese, with some regularity.
In Japanese it's not just the characters themselves, but how they're used, to form compounds, for instance. Japanese also uses non-Chinese-character syllabaries - characters that denote sounds but no meanings. A few of these have also fallen into disuse, while there have also been changes in the way others are used.
A few of these differences here and there are pretty manageable. But too many of them taken together and the reading becomes a little too much work to be readily enjoyable.
While modernizing the characters and usages is somewhat more straightforward, one area that I haven't figured out is how large a vocabulary to assume. Even in modern forms, the Arrowsmith translation uses a more sophisticated vocabulary than one typically sees in a novel.
The Chinese characters do help in this regard: the meanings of each constituent character can be used to decipher what a compound must mean.
In my current draft, I'm using any compound that's considered to be in current use in Japanese. Before I'm finished, however, I'll probably seek some editorial advice. It might been that reading enjoyment would still be enhanced by backing the level down a notch or two.
Although there are also other forces at play, the answer lies largely in the way, and speed at which, Chinese characters have been simplified in Japan, and also in how usage of the characters has been regularized in recent years.
Simplified characters are also used in China; often the same or similar forms are used in Japan.Taiwan, however, tends to stick with older forms.
In some cases, one can look at an old character and see enough similarity with the modern version that, especially using contextual clues, it's fairly easy to decipher. Other cases are more difficult.
This character means body: 体. Not only is this important in a medical novel, but the character itself is used in quite a number of compounds, making it a very common character in general. The form of this character found in Arrowsmith is 體. This took a little getting used to.
The character that means meet, however, is a little easier to decipher. Modern: 会. Older: 會. Here's the character meaning country (USA, Japan, China): 国 versus 國. This one's a little easier not only because of the similarity, but because one still sees the older form in Japanese, with some regularity.
In Japanese it's not just the characters themselves, but how they're used, to form compounds, for instance. Japanese also uses non-Chinese-character syllabaries - characters that denote sounds but no meanings. A few of these have also fallen into disuse, while there have also been changes in the way others are used.
A few of these differences here and there are pretty manageable. But too many of them taken together and the reading becomes a little too much work to be readily enjoyable.
While modernizing the characters and usages is somewhat more straightforward, one area that I haven't figured out is how large a vocabulary to assume. Even in modern forms, the Arrowsmith translation uses a more sophisticated vocabulary than one typically sees in a novel.
The Chinese characters do help in this regard: the meanings of each constituent character can be used to decipher what a compound must mean.
In my current draft, I'm using any compound that's considered to be in current use in Japanese. Before I'm finished, however, I'll probably seek some editorial advice. It might been that reading enjoyment would still be enhanced by backing the level down a notch or two.
Sunday, November 8, 2015
Language Translation and Interpreting Intent
In Arrowsmith, Chapter 6, Part IV, Martin finds himself simultaneously engaged to two young ladies. Leora is dominating the mental gymnastics as he faces his original betrothed: "it was Madeline who took his hunger to herself."
To translate a phrase such as this, a translator has at least two options: 1) Decide literally what it means, and translate that, or 2) Attempt to portray the ambiguity in a similar manner.
I have had occasion to use option 2, and am most likely to do that if possible. But usually language 1 doesn't, as mathematicians say, map "one-to-one and onto" language 2. That is, what's easily said in Japanese might be more difficult to say in English, and vice versa. An example of this is the Japanese concept of filial piety. Say the Japanese equivalent of that to any Japanese person, young or old, educated or less so, and they all understand it. Now try that in English.
So, it's a rare treat to be able to use option 2, and some translators never seem to try. But option 1 requires certainty in the interpretation. On some occasions, a translator might have access to the author, or to other information that helps with this interpretation. Usually, however, one must figure it out for oneself.
Now back to our story. Professor Ugai apparently decided that the passage above means "it was Madeline who fulfilled his hunger." I can see why he'd choose that, and probably will leave his translation as is. But, though it's not exactly clear what our friend Red must have meant, my sense is that it's something a tad different, perhaps something along these lines: his hunger was satisfied by the reflection of it he could see in her.
I'd be happy for inputs on what the original ought to mean. If we come up with a compelling case, I'll adjust the translation accordingly.
To translate a phrase such as this, a translator has at least two options: 1) Decide literally what it means, and translate that, or 2) Attempt to portray the ambiguity in a similar manner.
I have had occasion to use option 2, and am most likely to do that if possible. But usually language 1 doesn't, as mathematicians say, map "one-to-one and onto" language 2. That is, what's easily said in Japanese might be more difficult to say in English, and vice versa. An example of this is the Japanese concept of filial piety. Say the Japanese equivalent of that to any Japanese person, young or old, educated or less so, and they all understand it. Now try that in English.
So, it's a rare treat to be able to use option 2, and some translators never seem to try. But option 1 requires certainty in the interpretation. On some occasions, a translator might have access to the author, or to other information that helps with this interpretation. Usually, however, one must figure it out for oneself.
Now back to our story. Professor Ugai apparently decided that the passage above means "it was Madeline who fulfilled his hunger." I can see why he'd choose that, and probably will leave his translation as is. But, though it's not exactly clear what our friend Red must have meant, my sense is that it's something a tad different, perhaps something along these lines: his hunger was satisfied by the reflection of it he could see in her.
I'd be happy for inputs on what the original ought to mean. If we come up with a compelling case, I'll adjust the translation accordingly.
Sunday, October 25, 2015
Nihonbashi: East Meets West, 1603 Meets 1924, Ieyasu Tokugawa Meets Sinclair Lewis
Nihonbashi:
East Meets West, 1603 Meets 1924,
Ieyasu
Tokugawa Meets Sinclair Lewis
Rusty Allred
At
one time there existed a land bridge between what are now Korea and Siberia.
Though artifacts establish human activity there as early as 30,000 BCE, a
unique culture (Jomon) developed around 10,000 BCE and lasted for thousands of
years before being displaced by the Yayoi culture, the precursor to modern
Japanese culture, by the third millennium BCE[1].
It
was around the time of the beginnings of this Yayoi culture that the Kanto
Plain, of which Tokyo
Around
the 12th century of the Common Era, Shigenaga Edo[3],
a military governor of the region, built Edo Castle in this area[4]. This is how the town that would
become Tokyo came first to be called Edo[5].
This castle was rebuilt in 1456 by Dokan Ota3 who was also responsible for the rerouting of some of the
rivers flowing in the area. Indeed, the Hirakawa River was rerouted out of
existence at that time[6], though Hirakawa-cho is
still the name of a section of central Tokyo[7].
In
olden times the capital of Japan moved with the various emperors, though the Kyoto-Osaka
region contained the capital for more than a millennium from 794 until 1868[8].
Warlord Hideyoshi Toyotomi, who also operated in that region, sent Ieyasu
Tokugawa to the Kanto region in 1590. He needed Tokugawa’s services there, and
probably wanted to have this able and ambitious general safely away from his
home base. Arriving in that region, Tokugawa selected Edo as his headquarters.
After
Toyotomi’s death Tokugawa defeated his rival Mitusnari Ishida and became the
most powerful feudal lord, setting up a central government in Edo
in 1603.
Tokugawa
had been making improvements in Edo since his arrival. In 1603, the year he
became Shogun, his workers constructed a bridge called Nihonbashi or two-lane bridge. Over time the characters used to write the name were
changed such that, though still called Nihonbashi, it now meant Japan Bridge and there emerged the explanation
that this was the bridge connecting Edo with the rest of Japan[9].
Interestingly,
the waterway crossed by this bridge originally had no name, so it came to be called
the Nihonbashi River, after the bridge itself. This man-made river had been
constructed as the original rivers were rerouted[10],
which might explain its previous anonymity.
Business
built up around the bridge and this part of Edo came to also share the name
Nihonbashi. Eventually this would become a key business district in Tokyo. These
entities all still exist: the Nihonbashi bridge (though not the original
construction), the Nihonbashi River, and a Nihonbashi section of town in today’s
financial district.
By
around 1700 Edo had become the largest city in
the world. Ieyasu Tokuawa died at the age of 75 in 1616, but his heirs went on
to extend the Tokugawa family rule to a period of over 260 years.
While
the Tokugawas ruled Japan from Edo, Osaka, where the emperor still lived,
remained the official capital until the Meji Resoration in 1868 when Tokugawa’s
heir peacefully handed power to the new government, the emperor moved to Edo,
and the city was renamed Tokyo, or eastern
capital.
During
World War II the central part of Tokyo
In spite of
all that, in 1942 and 1943 Tohkadoh, a publisher then operating in Nihonbashi,
published as a three volume set Chouju Ugai’s translation of Sinclair Lewis’s Arrowsmith
(1924). Whether he really believed this, or was trying to justify his
translation of an American novel at this time in history, in the afterword to
Volume 2, Ugai explained that knowledge gained through their literature would
help to defeat the enemy[11].
Shortly
after the war the translation was apparently republished by Kawade[12]
which had also been operating in Nihonbashi. Perhaps they acquired Tohkadoh, or
at least the rights to this work. During the war, Kawade moved from its
Nihonbashi location due to bomb damage to its facilities[13].
It has since been located across town in the Shibuya-Shinjuku area.
Had
Sinclair Lewis ever gone to Japan he would have missed Ieyasu Tokugawa by
several hundred years, and even the Tokugawa Shogunate by a number of decades.
Nevertheless, Nihonbashi is the place where his story merges with theirs, at
least in the mind and heart of this author.
[2] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_Tokyo,
21 May 2015.
[3] Much of the English language
literature uses Japanese names in their original form – surname followed by
given name. But this seems to lead to confusion in some sources as to which
name is which. For this reason, I have used the Western form – given name
followed by surname – for all names.
[4] http://www.conservapedia.com/Tokyo,
24 May 2015.
[5] http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edo_Shigenaga,
24 May 2014.
[6] Jinnai, H., Tokyo , a Spatial
Anthropology, University
of California
[10] Jinnai, H., Tokyo, a
Spatial Anthropology, University of California Press, 1995, ISBN-13:
978-0520071353.
[11] Allred, “Japanese
Adventures with Sinclair Lewis,” Sinclair Lewis Society Newsletter, Fall 2004.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Why Not Just Re-translate?
I've been asked a number of times since starting this work why I don't just do a fresh translation. The answer is multi-faceted:
1) I think the Ugai translation deserves to be preserved, but preserving it in its current state will leave it increasingly inaccessible to future readers. Yes, besides being dated, it does have some errors, but so would a fresh translation. By careful comparison of the translation with the original, perhaps my edit of Ugai's translation can be more error free than either of us could have done alone.
2) Ordinarily a translator translates into his strongest language. That would be English in my case. I thought by updating a work written by a native speaker of Japanese, I could rely on his overall use of language. This, it turns out, is more difficult than I imagined. Due to the errors I'm finding, I do end up creating sentences from scratch. Still, most sentences in the book will be grammatically what Ugai wrote, with words and characters updated as needed.
By the way, there is a very good, modern translation of Arrowsmith (Trans. Tadashi Uchino, People of the World Library, Shogakkan, 1997.) which doesn't appear to rely upon Ugai at all. The primary problem with this work is that it's a severe abridgment and simplification. Had that translator and publisher provided the entire work in Japanese, the impetus to do what I'm doing would be much less.
1) I think the Ugai translation deserves to be preserved, but preserving it in its current state will leave it increasingly inaccessible to future readers. Yes, besides being dated, it does have some errors, but so would a fresh translation. By careful comparison of the translation with the original, perhaps my edit of Ugai's translation can be more error free than either of us could have done alone.
2) Ordinarily a translator translates into his strongest language. That would be English in my case. I thought by updating a work written by a native speaker of Japanese, I could rely on his overall use of language. This, it turns out, is more difficult than I imagined. Due to the errors I'm finding, I do end up creating sentences from scratch. Still, most sentences in the book will be grammatically what Ugai wrote, with words and characters updated as needed.
By the way, there is a very good, modern translation of Arrowsmith (Trans. Tadashi Uchino, People of the World Library, Shogakkan, 1997.) which doesn't appear to rely upon Ugai at all. The primary problem with this work is that it's a severe abridgment and simplification. Had that translator and publisher provided the entire work in Japanese, the impetus to do what I'm doing would be much less.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Humorous Tidbits
Look, I'm not poking fun at the translation. Rather, I admire it so much that I'm devoting a great deal of time to it. But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun with it along the way:
a) Toward the end of Chapter 1, Doc is regaling Martin with the war stories of the frontier doctor. In one such story he says that he performed the first appendectomy in "this neck of the woods." In Japanese this came out to say that he did the operation at "the mouth of the forest." (Though translating into one's native language provides a better written document, typically, it does leave the translator vulnerable to missing some idioms. That's OK; I can help.)
b) Near the end of Chapter 2, Ira is sermonizing about the evils of smoking when he says "that 67.9 per cent of all women who go to the operating table have husbands who smoke tobacco."
To this Cliff responds, "What the devil would they smoke?" In the Japanese translation this came out to be "What in the world was this tobacco they were smoking?"
c) At the beginning of Section 4 in Chapter 3 we meet Madeline who is taking a graduate course in English "to avoid going back home." The translator calls her an "exchange student" who is taking the graduate course to avoid "returning to her country." (Perhaps the translator had difficulty seeing that someone could be in their native US and still not be home?)
d) Toward the end of Section 6 in Chapter 3, in a religious argument with Ira, Martin has likened Gottlieb's laboratory work to prayer. To this Cliff volunteers "I'll bet I get the pants took off me ... if Pa Gottlieb catches me praying during experiment hours." Somehow this came out to be "I wouldn't complain if I got the pants taken right off of me."
More to come...
a) Toward the end of Chapter 1, Doc is regaling Martin with the war stories of the frontier doctor. In one such story he says that he performed the first appendectomy in "this neck of the woods." In Japanese this came out to say that he did the operation at "the mouth of the forest." (Though translating into one's native language provides a better written document, typically, it does leave the translator vulnerable to missing some idioms. That's OK; I can help.)
b) Near the end of Chapter 2, Ira is sermonizing about the evils of smoking when he says "that 67.9 per cent of all women who go to the operating table have husbands who smoke tobacco."
To this Cliff responds, "What the devil would they smoke?" In the Japanese translation this came out to be "What in the world was this tobacco they were smoking?"
c) At the beginning of Section 4 in Chapter 3 we meet Madeline who is taking a graduate course in English "to avoid going back home." The translator calls her an "exchange student" who is taking the graduate course to avoid "returning to her country." (Perhaps the translator had difficulty seeing that someone could be in their native US and still not be home?)
d) Toward the end of Section 6 in Chapter 3, in a religious argument with Ira, Martin has likened Gottlieb's laboratory work to prayer. To this Cliff volunteers "I'll bet I get the pants took off me ... if Pa Gottlieb catches me praying during experiment hours." Somehow this came out to be "I wouldn't complain if I got the pants taken right off of me."
More to come...
What I'm Up To
I've been tinkering with Japanese translations of Lewis' work for the past decade or so, and have written about some of them in the Sinclair Lewis Society Newsletter (S2003, F2004, F2005).
Recently my focus has again landed on Ugai's 1941 Japanese translation of Arrowsmith. The language in this work is very dated, so much so that I don't think it would be enjoyable reading material for an ordinary Japanese person, even if the work were reprinted and readily available.
So, I have undertaken the project of modernizing the language of this translation. If I'm keeping an accurate count, your questions at about this point would be as follows:
1) Why is the 1924 original English edition still linguistically accessible and the 1941 Japanese version not? (That is, why did Japanese change faster than English?)
2) Why's some non-native Japanese guy doing this work, rather than a native person?
3) Aren't there any modern translations?
4) Oh, and, if not, why not just re-translate rather than updating an old translation?
I don't know all the answers, but I know some of them, and have ideas on the others. These are the sorts of questions I intend to discuss in the blog, along with additional information about what I'm finding in the work itself.
By the way, I'm currently working in Chapter 6, and have so far added over fifty footnotes with corrections to the original. Some of them are minor. But I want the new version to be not only modern, but also accurate. I'll keep you posted.
Recently my focus has again landed on Ugai's 1941 Japanese translation of Arrowsmith. The language in this work is very dated, so much so that I don't think it would be enjoyable reading material for an ordinary Japanese person, even if the work were reprinted and readily available.
So, I have undertaken the project of modernizing the language of this translation. If I'm keeping an accurate count, your questions at about this point would be as follows:
1) Why is the 1924 original English edition still linguistically accessible and the 1941 Japanese version not? (That is, why did Japanese change faster than English?)
2) Why's some non-native Japanese guy doing this work, rather than a native person?
3) Aren't there any modern translations?
4) Oh, and, if not, why not just re-translate rather than updating an old translation?
I don't know all the answers, but I know some of them, and have ideas on the others. These are the sorts of questions I intend to discuss in the blog, along with additional information about what I'm finding in the work itself.
By the way, I'm currently working in Chapter 6, and have so far added over fifty footnotes with corrections to the original. Some of them are minor. But I want the new version to be not only modern, but also accurate. I'll keep you posted.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Martin Arrowsmith & The Case of The Brass Band
At the end of the second paragraph in Arrowsmith Chapter 3 Section 1, we read that "Dr. Robertshaw was working up to his annual climax about the effects of brass bands on the intensity of the knee-jerk."
I recently discovered that "brass bands" from this passage was rendered as "strips of brass" in Ugai's 1941 Japanese translation.
Thinking this was surely a mistake, I took to Google to see if there might be any justification for it in the medical literature. Amazingly, I did find a medical paper that relates strips of brass to the knee-jerk. The article described an apparatus that recorded the reaction using a mallet to strike the brass! But this work took place somewhat after the publication of Arrowsmith, and, doesn't it just seem too obscure to have been used without further description?
I Googled again, this time using much of the direct quote from Arrowsmith, just to see what would surface. To my delight, I found this book: Davenport, H. W., Not Just Any Medical School: The Science, Practice, and Teaching of Medicine at the University of Michigan, 1850-1941, University of Michigan Press, 1986.
Davenport also quotes Arrowsmith along with descriptions of the work and character of Warren Plimpton Lombard (1855 - 1939) who, as it turns out, must certainly be the model Lewis used for the character of Robertshaw. It also explains that Lombard was studying the knee-jerk one day when a brass band began playing in the park outside, so he studied the reaction both when the band was playing, and when it was not.
One never knows what lurks beneath the scene.
I recently discovered that "brass bands" from this passage was rendered as "strips of brass" in Ugai's 1941 Japanese translation.
Thinking this was surely a mistake, I took to Google to see if there might be any justification for it in the medical literature. Amazingly, I did find a medical paper that relates strips of brass to the knee-jerk. The article described an apparatus that recorded the reaction using a mallet to strike the brass! But this work took place somewhat after the publication of Arrowsmith, and, doesn't it just seem too obscure to have been used without further description?
I Googled again, this time using much of the direct quote from Arrowsmith, just to see what would surface. To my delight, I found this book: Davenport, H. W., Not Just Any Medical School: The Science, Practice, and Teaching of Medicine at the University of Michigan, 1850-1941, University of Michigan Press, 1986.
Davenport also quotes Arrowsmith along with descriptions of the work and character of Warren Plimpton Lombard (1855 - 1939) who, as it turns out, must certainly be the model Lewis used for the character of Robertshaw. It also explains that Lombard was studying the knee-jerk one day when a brass band began playing in the park outside, so he studied the reaction both when the band was playing, and when it was not.
One never knows what lurks beneath the scene.
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