Shadows.
Tanizaki Jun'ichiro
From 谷崎潤一郎「陰翳礼讃」
演技とか脚色とかは別にして、写真面だけで、何処かに国民性の差異が出ている。同一の機械や薬品やフイルムを使ってもなおかつそうなのであるから、われ／＼に固有の写真術があったら、どんなにわれ／＼の皮膚や容貌や気候風土に適したものであったかと思う。
演技 えんぎ acting, performance
脚色 きゃくしょく dramatization
国民性 こくみんせい national characteric/nature/disposition
差異 さい difference
同一 どういつ the same
薬品 やくひん chemical
皮膚 ひふ skin
容貌 ようぼう appearance
気候風土 きこうふうど climate
This is a bit of a laden term. It essentially refers to climate and geographical characteristics, but often also suggests a link with (national) cultural specificity in a conservative way. A good example of this is Watsuji Tetsuro’s famous book『風土』.
適する てきする to be suited for, to be fitted to
NOTE: 〳〵 are repetition marks, mostly used in older texts. They look a bit strange in a horizontal layout, but are attached when typed vertically. There are many repetition marks in Japanese, such as 々 (still widely used today; in publishing jargon this is called a ノマ because it looks like a combination of these two katakana characters) and ゝ among others. Whereas 々 and ゝ only repeat the last single character they follow, the stretched repetition marks indicate a repetition of a longer segment of text. For example, Soseki’s famous novel Kokoro is often written as『こゝろ』and, when written in kanji, ware ware may be written as 我々. However, as われ is in hiragana here and thus has two characters, we need the longer repetition marks to indicate that both characters are repeated (although up to two characters you do sometimes see われ々々 from time to time, but this almost never happens for three characters or more). You can even add so-called 濁点 in the repetition sign to indicate that the repetition is voiced. For example, ところどころ (‘here and there’) may be written as ところ〴〵. The same goes for the short form marks: こごえる (‘to freeze’) may be written as こゞえる (or こゞへる・こゞゆ in old kana/classical Japanese grammar). You can try this yourself in Word when you change the text direction to vertical, type in おなじ, and keep hitting the space bar until you find the repetition mark you want to use, with or without diacritics.
Translation:
Setting aside things such as performance or dramatization, when it comes to the aspect of photography, we somehow see a distinct difference in national character. This is the case even if we use the same equipment and chemicals and film [as the West]. Just imagine how well-suited these things would be to our skin tone, our physical appearance, and our culture and climate if we had our own unique photographical techniques.
Fun fact: Tanizaki's Brazilian translator, Leiko Gotada, is his niece. Remarkably, she began her career as a translator after turning 50-60. Driven by a desire to introduce Japanese literature to her children, she initially started translating Musashi informally as a hobby.
In this interview (https://periodicos.uff.br/cadernosdeletras/article/download/43484/24829/146631), she comments about her uncle:
- In the recent novel by Bernardo Carvalho, O sol se põe em São Paulo, heavily inspired by the plot of Tanizaki's Voragem (Manji), the narrator mentions the presence in Brazil of a niece of Tanizaki. He even claims to have spoken with her. Are you really the niece of the Japanese writer? Have you ever met him in person?
Bernardo Carvalho came to my house! He came to talk to me during the time he was writing that novel... I never met Tanizaki personally. He passed away when I was in my early twenties and had just gotten married. But my mother had traveled to Japan and met him. She also corresponded with him.
- Carvalho’s novel is fascinating, especially for addressing the issue of emigration and the relationship between the descendants of Japanese emigrants and the culture of their ancestors. And your mother, did she share any anecdotes about Tanizaki?
She shared many. She would say, for instance, that my uncle was very fond of food. Quite grumpy too. And that he adored cats. The eldest of the siblings, Tanizaki seems to have also been very affectionate with the rest of the family, which, by the way, had some rather unique customs. My mother’s and Tanizaki’s grandfather, who worked in wine production, hated wars and was a pacifist in a militaristic and war-driven Japan. He was also Catholic in a predominantly Shinto and Buddhist country. Moreover, he was sympathetic to women and respected them more than was customary. He had many children, both sons and daughters, but he ‘gave away’ the sons to take on other family names, while he kept the daughters, giving them the family name. In this way, the women in the family were not ‘given’ in marriage; instead, it was the husbands who were ‘given’ to them. Thus, contrary to the prevailing customs, it was also the women who carried on the Tanizaki name, which is now known worldwide as the name of the writer.