Susan Jones on Translating a Multilingual Picture Book

Joanna Dare, Leicester, UK

J-E translator Susan Jones has recently translated the English in the nonalingual (nine language) picture book One Two Three! (Doshinsha, 2025) written and illustrated by Kanayo Sugiyama. With its brightly coloured illustrations and text in Japanese, Chinese, English, Korean, Nepali, Portuguese, Spanish, Filipino and Vietnamese, this book invites young readers to follow a cute yellow-dot character as it grows, bounces, stretches and even multiplies! Susan kindly agreed to talk about how this project came into being, and about the thorny translation challenges even a pint-sized text can present.

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Joanna Dare: Thank you so much for taking the time to answer my questions today. When I first opened this book, it was like a little burst of sunshine on a grey British autumn day! I’d love to know more about how the project came about.

Susan Jones: It was through the network that is children’s literary translation. There aren’t many of us doing what we do, so we all know each other or know of each other. In this case, I was referred by another translator in the SCBWI Japan Translation Group who wasn’t able to take on the project due to other commitments. I’ve done some sample translations for publishers, but this is the first book that has my name on it and I’m very excited about that.

Joanna: Was it conceived as a multilingual project from the start?

Susan: Yes. Kanayo Sugiyama came up with the whole concept. Sugiyama-san is an author-illustrator who focuses on picture books for the youngest readers. For this project, she wanted to create a “barrier free” book that would be accessible to people in Japan who speak one of a wide range of languages, but not necessarily Japanese. Japan has historically been a monocultural society, but lately the number of cultures and languages represented is expanding. There are more bilingual kids raised by, for example, one Japanese parent and one from a different linguistic background. In immigrant families, the kids may speak Japanese at school and another language with their parents at home. For these children, this book is a way to bridge the gap between the kids and their parents or the kids and their friends. Kids of diverse backgrounds can enjoy it at the same time which is really nice. But the Japanese comes first, in a larger font than the other languages, because the target audience is in Japan.

The publisher also decided to include a hiragana pronunciation guide to all the languages at the back of the book and a link to a recording where you can hear the words spoken. Each translator provided the hiragana for the words in their language. I spent quite a lot of time on the pronunciation guide, because hiragana doesn’t always represent English sounds very well.

Joanna: Because it was conceived as a multilingual project, did all the translators work together from the start with the author-illustrator?

Susan: When I first started working on the book, Sugiyama-san had more or less finalised the text and had made rough sketches of the illustrations, so I had a pretty good idea what the final images were going to look like. But she didn’t ask the translators to be co-writers. It was very much her creation. My job as a translator was to try to bring the same feeling to the English as we get from the Japanese. So even though some of the translations aren’t direct translations, I wanted the child reader to enjoy the English version in the same way as the child reader in Japanese.

Joanna: Had Sugiyama-san already decided the layout of the text and how the different languages were going to be orientated on the page?

Susan: No, in fact I was worried about the length because I do some subtitle translation as well, where you have a limited amount of space for each subtitle. I asked at the beginning if there was a word limit for my translation and they said, no, we’ll make it work. I’m certainly not used to that!

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Joanna: So, they gathered in all the different translations and then moved them around to make them fit?

Susan: Yes, like a puzzle! The typesetter did a great job. I love how the text on each page reflects the image.

Joanna: It’s beautifully done, isn’t it? And it must have been such a challenge!

Susan: I wish I could take credit for that, but it wasn’t me!

Joanna: Maybe the manga tradition in Japan means there is a sensibility around fitting text into limited spaces. But they’ve done such a good job—the text really complements the illustrations perfectly.

Susan: When a picture book is translated, there’s usually been no thought until that point about how it would work in other languages. It has to be re-typeset. Sometimes something that was one line in one language needs to be two lines in another language, and so they have to fiddle around with it. But with this book, since the concept was already there from the beginning, the illustrator left plenty of space – a whole page – for all of these languages that were going to appear, so it wasn’t like they had to find space – that was always part of the design.

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Joanna: Why did Sugiyama-san decide the book should be translated into these particular eight languages?

Susan: She looked at which languages were cropping up in Japan due to immigration, and she also looked at which languages are most widely spoken in the world. That gave her Chinese, Vietnamese, Korean, Filipino, Portuguese and Nepali as commonly-used languages in Japan, and English and Spanish as languages spoken widely in the world. At a recent event which brought most of the translators together in Tokyo, she shared just how important it was for her to create a book that would help build bridges between children from different linguistic backgrounds.

Joanna: You mentioned you translated the pronunciation guide, but did you also translate the other surrounding texts, such as the explanation at the beginning about how to use the book?

Susan: Yes, that was me too. They asked each translator to do that after translating the main text, so I think they decided to add it—that wasn’t part of the original brief.

Joanna: Moving on to the translation challenges: there’s obviously a lot of onomatopoeia in the book. Japanese is very rich in onomatopoeia, but English is not so rich, so how did you tackle that?

Susan: The onomatopoeia was definitely the most difficult part. I actually retranslated the onomatopoeia quite a few times and asked various people how it sounded and if they had ever heard of words like “sproing”, for example! I had heard of it, but I was surprised that not many other people had. The Japanese しゅぽ (shupo) means “popping up” and everyone I asked thought I should use “pop”, but I’d used “pop” on another page, so I didn’t want to use it again. I came up with “sproing” instead, which is a cross between “spring” and “boing”. I really liked it and thought it was perfect for the image on that page. I think it’s fine to make up onomatopoeia, but I didn’t want to be too left-field in this book which is supposed to be very simple and approachable.

Joanna: Sproing is such a great word! Were there any other translation challenges?

Susan: I had a hard time with the last page and the phrase ぎゅっ!だいすき! (Gyu! Daisuki!). Both of those words are difficult. だいすき (daisuki) means “I love you” in Japanese. There’s a more formal way to say it, 愛してる (aishiteru), which nobody uses. Between parents and children, no one would say 愛してる (aishiteru), they would say だいすき (daisuki). It’s a little bit more casual, so I didn’t put in “love you”, I put in “love you”, which is more how an English-speaking parent would speak to a child and much warmer in tone. The ぎゅっ (gyu) is also really difficult because it’s a mimetic word for something English doesn’t have an equivalent for. It means “hug tight” and I think that’s what I put in at first. And then I had “squeeeeze, squeeeeze”. I also tried making up my own onomatopoeia, “mmmph”, but too many people told me they didn’t know what that meant! I tried several different things, but I finally ended up with “big hug!” because I thought about what we would actually say in that situation. It took me a while to get there, though. That was one of the most difficult parts.

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The other onomatopoeia I changed to a non-onomatopoeia was ぼん (bon) in ぼん!大きくなった。(Bon! Ōkikunatta.) I considered words like “bam” or “bang” since they start with a “b” and the character suddenly gets big on that page, but both of these words reminded me of an explosion. And, again, I wanted to make sure it was a word that would actually be used by children. So I changed it to “Wow! So big!” since that is the feeling of surprise and excitement someone might feel in that situation. And I chose “so big” for both economy of space and a grammatical pattern often used by young children—and then I repeated that pattern on the other pages, too. (“So big”, “So high”, “So long”, etc.)

Joanna: You said you had to make a few passes at the translation—how long did it take in total?

Susan: I would translate the whole thing and then put it down and come back to it a few days later. I think I did it all in about a month, coming back to it again and again, running it by different people, including bilingual family members and other translators. I wish I could have taken my translation to SCBWI’s Creative Exchange to get feedback from other translators and illustrators, but the timing didn’t work out.

When I’m translating picture books, I normally like to cut out my translations and tape them onto the page with washi tape and then flip the pages. Because that’s the only way I can really feel if the text is working with the illustration. I only had a PDF of this book, so I pasted my translations virtually onto that, but it wasn’t the same as turning physical pages.

Before the book was published I had the opportunity to see it all laid out and make any last-minute changes; I think I made one small change at that stage.

Joanna: So, it really was a process of going back and trying things out. Even though the book is deceptively simple, you put a lot of work into getting that “just-right” word.

Susan: Yes, exactly.

Joanna: I’ve come to the end of the questions I prepared, so I just wanted to finish by asking: is there anything I haven’t asked, anything about the project you’d like to talk about?

Susan: Just that I really support the idea of this book. Having a book which can be enjoyed by kids from diverse backgrounds all at the same time is a beautiful thing. My impression is that bilingual books generally don’t sell very well, but when you have a book like this with nine languages it’s a real invitation to connection and I love that. I love the concept of this book. I can’t take credit for the idea, but I’m so grateful I could be a very small part of it. And it’s been nice to think back on the process of translating it during this interview.

Joanna: Thank you so much, it’s been absolutely fascinating to hear about this project. Talking to you has made me realise short, simple-at-first-glance texts can contain plenty of translation challenges.

Joanna Dare is a Japanese-to-English literary translator, librarian and educator based in Leicester, UK. In 2020 she was runner up in the 4th JLPP International Translation Competition organized by the Japanese government’s Agency for Cultural Affairs.

Nanette McGuinness Talks about Kidlit Translation in Tokyo

Andrew Wong, Tokyo Japan

While a fall typhoon swept by off the Pacific coast in October, SCBWI Japan welcomed Nanette McGuinness (translator of over 130 books and graphic novels for children and adults, including the Geronimo Stilton Graphic Novels), for a session on translating children’s literature. The planned in-person event transitioned into a hybrid one with SCBWI Japan Translator Coordinator Susan Jones moderating the session as a cozy crowd of about twenty attendees faced the cold-ridden presenter’s image projected onto a wall. While Nanette did not want to share her germs, she drew on her own journey in translating children’s literature from French, Italian, Spanish, and German to generously share valuable tips on how to start and, very importantly, how to stay in the picture. Here are some takeaways!  

A professional soprano, Nanette spoke about how she first got into literary translation. She had already been translating songs and secondary literature to write program notes for performances, etc., when a publisher approached her about translating a graphic novel. Needless to say, she agreed.

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Susan Jones moderates with Nanette McGuinness speaking on Zoom (photo courtesy of Alec McAulay)

Since then, she has built up quite a portfolio of children’s series and graphic novels. She used that experience to offer attendees notes on creating and maintaining a presence in the translation industry. Touching on the various pathways to obtaining translation work, whether through translation agencies, freelancer websites, or word of mouth, she emphasized the importance of building relationships and trust, a specifically human activity that will not be mechanically or artificially replicated anytime soon, especially for literary work. Nanette summed up the process with the word “networking,” which includes showcasing your skills on your website, attending conferences in-person, speaking to publishers and editors, giving them your business card, and joining and contributing to translation communities and literary journals. For example, if a publisher hires you to provide reader reports on books written in languages they cannot comprehend but you can, doing so can build trust over time and open doors to future full-length book translations.

As Nanette spoke on why we translate for children, she reminded us that translators are often cultural ambassadors and should enjoy the fun of writing from a child’s perspective, which means attention to detail for a most discerning readership. Beyond reading levels, translating kidlit means working with language, which changes over time—and this happens especially quickly in the case of slang. She cautioned that adopting the latest slang in a work could end up dating it by the time of publication—even if it felt immediately accessible and current at the time of writing. In a similar vein, words can come to take on new meaning, while seemingly harmless puns and jokes, and some opinions, might furrow a few more eyebrows today than they raised in another time or place. Hearing this, I realized that using a particular word or expression with the knowledge of how it had changed over time, or place, could be used deliberately to perfectly place a work in its time.

Among the questions from the floor was one about translating word play, and how this often calls for creativity, since the techniques differ across languages. For example, we shared the opinion that rhymes are almost never used in Japanese, while we often come across rhythmical verses and the ever-present onomatopoeia. Nanette noted that translators often have to make choices in order to maintain the integrity of the original, especially in terms of deciding which is most important—sentence structure, verbal meaning, or the underlying meaning and “spirit of the work.” Nanette said that she would choose the latter over the first two. In terms of translating word play, that meant the creative process of adapting and adopting whatever techniques were most suited for the target language.

Finally, Nanette offered some insights from the field—the outlook for translated publications. When last we heard, grants were winding down for cultural projects in the U.S., negatively affecting publishers and rights acquisitions. Nanette brought a somewhat more positive vibe from the ground, relating what she’d heard from editors and publishers at San Diego Comic-Con, the largest and best-known comics-related event in the U.S. Even as conditions remain difficult, it appears that some publishers are looking to expand, with the general outlook of being more selective. When asked about retranslating and/or revisiting classics, Nanette pointed to the retranslated Asterix series, which now also includes new and previously untranslated work, as well as its spinoff, Dogmatix—not to mention another classic series, The Smurfs. I was glad to hear that good stories travel, and if a publisher has the bandwidth to breathe new life into a classic with a new translation, it’s surely good news for everyone involved!

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Opera singer, translator, voice talent, and writer Nanette McGuinness is the translator of over 130 books and graphic novels for children and adults. More here.

Lisa Wilcut on Translating a Bilingual Picture Book

By Susan E. Jones, Nishinomiya Japan

Following her picture book translation debut in 2023, Lisa Wilcut‘s translation of What the Children Drew: Art from Gaza and Tokyo (Japanese title『みんなで見たこどものえ』) Japanese text by Shiho Kikuchi, Illustrations by Amigos Koike, and art by children of Gaza and Tomigaya Elementary School was released in June 2025 by Compass Rose Editions. Lisa kindly responded to our questions about how this bilingual picture book was created and the special challenges she faced while translating it.

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What the Children Drew includes the story of how the children in Gaza came to draw images of their lives, the reproductions of those original images, images created by students at Tomigaya Elementary School in Tokyo after viewing the Gazan children’s images, and comments written by each of the children involved in the project. Translator Lisa Wilcut worked on three different text types: the narrative, children’s comments, and author/illustrator biographies.

Susan Jones: Thank you for taking the time to answer my questions today! First, how did this project find you (or you find this project)?

Lisa Wilcut: My long-time collaborator Rico Komanoya, who is now running a small press called Compass Rose Editions, asked me if I would do the translation. Rico recommended me to the other three creators as the translator because she liked what I did with the voice of the little kid narrator in a previous picture book translation I had done for her. Luckily, all three agreed!

Susan: Bilingual picture books are rather unusual—perhaps because too much text can detract from the illustrations. Do you know if What the Children Drew was originally conceived as a bilingual picture book?

Lisa: I’m not sure at what point the creators started to think of this as a bilingual project, but I think it was pretty early on. The book was still a work in progress when I came on board, and everything was still very fluid in terms of layout and illustrations, and even some of the content.

Susan: You have worked with Compass Rose more than once. Do you recommend fostering a close relationship with a publisher here in Japan over pitching projects directly to overseas publishers? 

Lisa: I can’t say that one is better than the other. Both are good things to do! Work comes in all shapes and sizes and from all kinds of sources, and it’s always good to keep your eggs in multiple baskets. Overseas publishers offer a lot of big-picture advantages, though. They’re tapped into distribution and PR mechanisms and can get a book known and circulated in ways that Japanese publishers can’t match in those overseas markets. So, if your goal is to have that kind of publicity support, then you can’t beat what overseas publishers offer. But it’s much easier to have a closer relationship with someone in Japan (who you can meet in person…), not to mention that it can be hard for someone living in Japan to make connections abroad. And yes, I’ve done several projects for Compass Rose, but this is only my second picture book with them. 

Incidentally, Compass Rose was the book packager, not the publisher, for I Can Open It For You. The publishers were Chronicle in the US and Thames & Hudson in the UK. That was really the best of both worlds, as all the connections on the creation side were here, and we could communicate quite easily. In the end, editors from both houses stepped in, and I worked with them as well for the final polishing. I had never heard of “book packaging” before that project, but Rico Komanoya and her team handled pretty much everything except that final editing. They sourced and supervised the translation, design, printing, and shipping, and then the publishers did the marketing and publicity and sent the books out under their labels.

Susan: I was disappointed to see that your name doesn’t appear on the cover or title page. Was there any discussion or negotiation about this? I did notice that there was already quite a lot of information on the cover and title page due to so many creators taking part.

Lisa: I didn’t ask for it, and there are a couple of reasons behind that. The main reason is that I wanted this to be all about the kids, and I think everyone on the project felt the same way. The children are the creators listed first on the cover. And, as you note, there is a lot going on with the cover already! In fact, there was a lot of back and forth about how to style the attributions for the author and illustrator. Even the word “by” was thrown out, and what we settled on was a pink dot that separates “Text” and “Illustrations” from their names. (Those dots were hand-drawn by the illustrator, by the way!) This whole project is different (in my mind) from a work of fiction, for which I would generally be most pleased to have my name on the cover.

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Art by one of the children of Gaza.

Susan: The subject matter is quite heavy. Who is the intended readership? I imagine teachers and parents might hesitate to share this with their students/children. 

Lisa: It is heavy indeed. Truly heartbreaking. The target readers are children, but the assumption is that grownups will read it too. I would hope that adults will read it with children, but kids are going to be encountering the book on their own. It will be in libraries across Japan, for example. The idea is to make kids aware of this situation, to let them know that this kind of thing is going on in the world, and to deliver that to them in a way that is as unbiased as possible. The editor’s note in the back mentions the hope that this book will spur kids to do their own investigation of issues in the world, noting that if they know the truth, then we (as humanity writ large, and with children as our future) can put an end to acts of atrocity such as this. 

Susan: Continuing the question of readership, will this book be available outside of Japan?

Lisa: Yes! At a minimum, it’s going to be on Amazon in the US, and I assume also in the UK. We’re also working to place it in bookstores. I’m not sure what the progress is with the big chains, but there are a few independent bookstores we are working with to carry it. Recommendations for others are welcome!

Susan: The translation of this picture book is unusual in that you needed to translate more than just the story, you also had to translate the caption for each drawing, the Japanese children’s comments, and the author/illustrator/director bios. Did you take a different approach with each text type? 

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Lisa: Yes! The captions for the drawings by the kids from Gaza are quite brief, and only a few are true “captions” in the sense of describing the work in some way, and in the voice of the artist. For a few of them, what we had as original material was already in English, and it is the Japanese that is the translation. Others were in Arabic, translated into Japanese, then into English.

The narrator of the story is a sixth-grade boy, so I needed a voice appropriate for him. I also needed kids voices for the comments by the Japanese children, and that was the biggest challenge. I felt like I couldn’t take some of the liberties I usually do with translation, things done for the sake of smoothing things out, avoiding repetition, sounding natural, etc. The comments came directly from real kids, and I expect that those kids will be looking anxiously for their words and to see how they came out in English. So, of course I wanted to be very faithful to their expressions, which meant both staying closer to the Japanese that I might have liked to in some respects, while also striving for things kids naturally say in English, as I would usually do. One tricky thing is that these kids all talked through their emotions after seeing the art by the kids from Gaza, and certain expressions seem to have floated up to the top and gained currency within the group. So, there is a lot of repetition in the comments. Normally, translation into English entails smoothing that out, but here it seemed appropriate to keep it–for the most part. As for the bios, I treated them pretty generically. Space was the main challenge there, as there was not much room to work with, and the Japanese for that kind of text is ultra-efficient in a way that is hard to match in English.

Susan: Did the translation of the title evolve naturally from the translation of the text? (The last few lines of the story are: I’ll never forget about those kids. / About what happened to them. / About looking at what the children drew.)

Lisa: I tackled the title first, and it was a challenge. (But titles usually are!) I just couldn’t come up with anything remotely acceptable that mirrored the みんなで… in the original Minna de mita kodomo no e. The English title we settled on is quite different from the Japanese title–it’s not a translation at all. The two actually work pretty well together, complementing each other.

My thoughts behind the English run something like this. While the Japanese title reflects the viewpoint of the narrator and his classmates, about their looking at the drawings by the kids from Gaza, the reader is also looking at the experience of the kids in Shibuya seeing that art and looking at the art they made in response, not to mention their comments. I wanted a title that captured the big picture.

And in terms of real estate, the book is an almost equal split between pages about Tomiyama ES in Shibuya and pages with the drawings by the kids from Gaza. 

The fact that the last line of the book is the same as the title (and that was the case from the start in the Japanese) kind of sealed the deal on the choice of the English title, as my provisional title fit perfectly into that spot in the text.

Susan: Usually, when we talk about the difficulty of translating a particular text, we are referring to tricky linguistic issues like word play, jokes, or onomatopoeia. But What the Children Drew must have been difficult in a different way because of the heavy subject matter. How did you handle that extra challenge?

Lisa: I started with a good cry, and a very melancholy couple of days. The first mock-up of the book that I got had very little of the back story, very minimal text, and was mostly the drawings. So, I sat with those for a while, and processed those emotions, and then just let it all sit. The text wasn’t ready for me yet anyway. When that came in later, I was able to work on just the translation without needing to go back into the art too much.

Susan: Is there anything I didn’t ask that you want to share about the translation process or this book? 

Lisa: There was another translation challenge that still has me deliberating my final choice. It’s the last page of the “story” part of the book (before the comments from the children), where the boy narrator gets kind of wistful and sentimental. So, how to do something touchy-feely and still sound authentic to his voice? I made it a little poetic in form, but with intentional imperfections (at least one). There’s a bit of rhyme, but one of those instances is actually just a repetition of the same word. So, the idea was to give it the feel of a poem, but just slightly and in a way that felt spontaneous, as if the poetic quality was an accident, a by-product of the sentimental nature of his thoughts at that moment. So, does it work, or does it come off as a clumsy mistake? This thought does return to me at odd times.

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Final page of the story section of What the Children Drew.

Susan: Thank you for sharing so many details about this project! There is just a wealth of information here for PB translators—especially those who might be called to work on a bilingual project.

Lisa: It was my pleasure. And thank you!

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Art by children of Tomigaya Elementary School in Shibuya, Tokyo.

The Village Beyond the Mist and the State of Kidlit Translation 

By Deborah Iwabuchi, Maebashi Japan

On May 31, 2025, SCBWI Japan hosted “Avery Fischer Udagawa on Translating Sachiko Kashiwaba: To Read One Author Closely” in an online session open to SCBWI members and other interested parties. Over an hour-and-a-half, Avery answered questions from Japan Translator Coordinator Susan Jones, Andrew Wong, myself, and other participants as well.

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Avery Fischer Udagawa with Sachiko Kashiwaba at a Japan Society event in New York this June

Avery has been translating the works of prolific and well-loved Japanese writer Sachiko Kashiwaba for about fifteen years. We had lots of questions about Avery’s work and her relationship with Kashiwaba, and Avery generously provided the details. I’m going to note here that this post is not given in the chronological order of our discussion; nor, I’m very sorry to say, does it include everything that we learned in this wide-ranging session.

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Getting to Know Sachiko Kashiwaba

Starting out with the session’s title topic, Avery shared that she was introduced to Sachiko Kashiwaba by SCBWI Japan’s Naomi Kojima in the wake of the 2011 Tohoku earthquake and tsunami disaster, when SCBWI Japan’s Holly Thompson was putting together Tomo: Friendship through Fiction: An Anthology of Japanese Teen Stories  (Stone Bridge Press 2012). The outcome of that introduction was Avery’s translation of Kashiwaba’s story “House of Trust” for Tomo. Kashiwaba is from—and still lives in—Iwate, one of the Tohoku prefectures that sustained the most damage in the 2011 disaster. We learned that Kashiwaba began using 3.11 as a theme in her writing. One aim was to comfort actual survivors, and another was to educate people not living in the disaster zone.

This translation was followed by “Firstclaw,” Avery’s translation of which appeared in Words Without Borders in 2020. Avery said she began pitching her first full book by Kashiwaba, Temple Alley Summer, soon after it came out in Japanese in 2011. Working on her own, Avery obtained Kashiwaba’s permission to translate the novel for a competition and then to pitch it to US publishers; she also communicated with the Japanese publisher, Kodansha, about rights. Finding a publisher took years. At one point, the book was picked up by a US publishing house that, after two years, proved unable to proceed and scrapped its contracts with the creators. Restless Books picked up the title a year later. When finally out in the world, Temple Alley Summer quickly won (among many other honors) the Mildred L. Batchelder Award in 2022.

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Restless was soon interested in considering more Kashiwaba titles, and Kodansha was ready and waiting with a sample translation of The House of the Lost on the Cape (by Emily Balistrieri, also featured here at Ihatov!) It wasn’t long until Restless Books had Avery’s translation on store shelves. The House of the Lost on the Cape, which has the 2011 earthquake as one of its themes, was chosen as a 2024 Batchelder Honor  Book. (Please click here, here, and here for in-depth posts about Avery’s earlier Kashiwaba translations!) After this second success, Kodansha recommended The Village Beyond the Mist, and Restless Books decided to publish its third Kashiwaba novel with Avery translating. There is now another translation in the works, we learned: a high fantasy series by Kashiwaba, illustrated by Satake, tentatively dubbed When a Dragon Calls in English. Avery is also keen to translate an early reader series by Kashiwaba called Monster Hotel, which features a combination of Japanese and Western-style ghosts. Avery’s brief characterization of this series was “hilarious”!

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Throughout the years, Avery has maintained direct contact with Kashiwaba, and she provided some insight into their relationship. A translator assigned to an author by a third party will rarely enjoy close contact, at least at first, but Avery said that the initial introduction by treasured colleague Naomi Kojima made all the difference. When Avery began to translate Kashiwaba’s works, she and the author were already acquaintances who shared a love of children’s literature.

We wanted to know if Avery contacts Sachiko Kashiwaba with questions about her books, and Avery said she does. Books are written for readers of their source languages, and we’ve all had experience looking at text that could be interpreted in two or three different ways in English. Asking the author is the best way to get an answer. Avery said that, in the beginning, she was almost paranoid about getting her translations right and emailed to check many items with the author. The author was always open and swift to respond, but Avery said that sometimes she sensed Kashiwaba was bemused by some of the more “in the weeds” inquiries. With time and experience, Avery learned more about what made Kashiwaba tick. She described the author as “not fussy” and said that Kashiwaba doesn’t sweat the small stuff, noting this trait probably makes it possible to write so many books. A quick look at Wikipedia reveals a very long list of books by Kashiwaba. I could almost imagine the prolific author’s perplexity at being asked about books she wrote a year or two or decades earlier, while already deeply involved in new stories she had in the works.

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Luckily though, Avery and Sachiko Kashiwaba have had many opportunities to meet and get to know each other. They have accepted the Batchelder Award together, spoken in schools and at a festival in Hong Kong together, and recently went on a book tour in the US. Avery has therefore been on hand many times when Kashiwaba talked to audiences about her work. Even though Kashiwaba has written books with the 2011 earthquake as a backdrop or theme, her priority is for her books to be transporting in an entertaining way. Avery said she has heard Kashiwaba say many times that what she wants is for readers to finish her books and think, “Ah, that was fun!” This sort of revelation has made it easier for Avery to make decisions on her own, now that she understands what is important to Kashiwaba.

The Village Beyond the Mist: Illustrations and Translation

As a reader, I could see a distinct difference between The Village Beyond the Mist and the prior two books Avery translated—which she had done relatively soon after they came out in Japanese. In the author’s afterword to The Village Beyond the Mist, I learned that this was Kashiwaba’s first published novel. She was only 22 in 1975 when it came out. She wrote at the time that she had been influenced by Mary Poppins and The Chronicles of Narnia. The Village Beyond the Mist, she wrote, “is Lina’s [the main character] and my dream world. I wonder if the residents of Absurd Avenue will find a place in your dream world too.” I got a sense that the story of Lina and the dream-like characters she meets might have been incubating in Kashiwaba’s mind since childhood.

Avery agreed that this might have been the case and told us how Kashiwaba strongly believes in the importance of oral storytelling. She senses that this love of storytelling was certainly behind all of the books Kashiwaba has written and continues to write.

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Andrew Wong asked about the illustrations. Miho Satake, whose illustrations appear in both the Japanese and US editions of Temple Alley Summer, was commissioned to illustrate the English version of The Village Beyond the Mist. This, on the surface, didn’t seem like a translation issue, but we quickly learned that there was indeed a strong connection. Looking at the cover of the book, the first impression most of us had was that it might be considered Studio Ghibli-influenced. One of the book’s PR points is that the story “first inspired Hayao Miyazaki’s beloved film, Spirited Away.” At any rate, Satake’s delightful pictures do a wonderful job of emphasizing the whimsy behind all of the characters and the fantasy behind the jobs Lina gets assigned to do in the shops on Absurd Avenue.

The influence on translation was how the pictures alleviated the need for explanations of certain aspects of Japanese culture that came up in the book. One example Avery gave was “a small tractor with a car hitched to the back,” shown below. This illustration shows an old-fashioned tractor pulled by a farmer in the once (still?) typical-in-Japan straw hat, boots, and towel hung around the neck. The illustration spared Avery having to explain further how this vehicle and its driver might look.

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Another example was a Hyottoko mask. The translation reads, “The mask looked like a comical man with his mouth puckered”—all that is required when accompanied by the illustration below. Not having to get into too much of an explanation adds to the “this could be anywhere in the world” atmosphere of the story and keeps the reader focused.

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On the other hand, Avery said she found some small mistakes in the draft illustrations, which Satake was amenable to tweaking. For her part, Avery made adjustments in the translation to match some of the pictures, and these small changes continued until just before printing. The result is smooth and delightful, and the reader has no idea of the efforts of all parties to achieve it.

The illustrator of the original Japanese version was Hiromi Sugita, and Avery did her translation using Sugita’s illustrations as reference. Below is one of the illustrations to which Sugita added her own romanized versions of character names, some of which the reader will recognize in the English, such as Icchan.

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Recent Activity in the World of Kidlit in Translation

I’ve decided to close with the impromptu state-of-the-industry report we received. While part of it is translator-affirming and evolved, part of it is definitely not.

First the good part! Avery has been a driving force behind getting translators credited on book covers, and she let us know that this practice is finally moving into the mainstream. On top of that, ever since Temple Alley Summer, her contracts with Restless Books have included a clause that wherever Restless credits the author, they will also credit the translator. Hearing this, I think we all had a moment of “can this possibly be true?” Evidence that the Restless Books approach influences others appears in a review (gift link) of The Village Beyond the Mist in The New York Times, which mentions Avery and describes her translation as “crisp.”

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Looking at the copyright page of The Village Beyond the Mist, we can see that it was supported by grants from the National Endowment for the Arts (NEA) in the US, the Japan Foundation, and the Henri and Tomoye Takahashi Charitable Foundation of the Marin Community Foundation. Avery let us know that, while she has assisted with some grant proposals and provided sample translations when asked, Restless Books itself applied for the grants for this book, which were intended for publishers. Many publishers, we learned—especially smaller, independent ones—rely on grants to stay in business and to get new voices heard. Avery described these publishers as incubators of new talent that translations rely on “disproportionately.” These days, translations are finally enjoying a growing audience, and the support of grants has been an integral part of this. Avery mentioned that grant funds were also paying for the book tour for The Village Beyond the Mist.

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Unfortunately, just when the translation environment is looking up, federal grants—namely NEA grants in the United States—are facing drastic cuts from the Trump administration. Indeed, the NEA has had to terminate over $27 million in grants already earmarked for distribution to hundreds of organizations across the arts. Funding to Restless Books has also been canceled. Here is a link to a spreadsheet Avery showed us that had been tracking the cuts until there were just too many. 

Ending on this note is disheartening, but we can only hope the unjustified offensive on literature as a whole and children’s literature in particular will be a short one, and I would very much like to end on a positive note. I recently met up with a former student who runs a library in an elementary school in a small town in Japan. She loves her job, and told me she wakes up in the morning full of happy thoughts about books. Sometimes they’re about which new ones she should choose for the library—she gets to pick 400 a year. Then she goes on to spend the whole day thinking about books. The school curriculum includes story time with the younger children, so part of her job is choosing which ones to read and then reading them. She said the kids hang on every word, their eyes open wide. These were wonderful images to take home with me.

So now with very positive images of wide-eyed children and a happy librarian in mind, I want to thank Avery and SCBWI Japan for the time we got to spend talking about translation and the works of Sachiko Kashiwaba. In my mind, I can see the books lined up on shelves and in the hands of avid young readers, and I will be right here waiting when it’s time to talk with Avery about the next one!

One Small Change to Two Little Red Mittens

by Avery Fischer Udagawa, Bangkok

It’s a thrill when colleagues in publishing make small moves to affirm the work of translators. Actually, there are no small moves!

In mid-2024, I received an advance review copy of Two Little Red Mittens, a picture book I had translated about a pair of friends who are parted unexpectedly. I noticed that the cover credits read, “words by Kirin Hayashi / pictures by Chiaki Okada / translation by Avery Fischer Udagawa.”

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Books from the first printing of Two Little Red Mittens, in the conference bookstore at SCBWI Winter Conference 2025.

I was delighted that all three of us creatives were credited on the cover. It hit me that the “words by” credit was inaccurate, however, because while Kirin Hayashi had authored the story, I had chosen the words in the translation. As Daniel Hahn has written in his book Catching Fire, a translation is “identical to the original book, except for all the words.”

I sent an email about this to editor Marilyn Brigham, who instantly understood. She even said that she would keep this note in mind for all of the translations she works with! Meanwhile, it was too late to correct the wording on the cover for the first printing, but she changed “words by” to “story by” for all future printings, and she made sure that “story by” was used in the eBook edition.

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Current cover of Two Little Red Mittens.

I had the pleasure of seeing Marilyn on the sidelines of SCBWI’s in-person conference in New York City recently. It was nice to be able to thank her for her support, and even get her permission to publish this post. Thank you, Marilyn! 🧶

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Gleanings from Listening to Trees

by Andrew Wong in Tokyo, Japan

October 12 proved a double header of literary events when we welcomed Holly Thompson back to Japan while Lisa Wilcut (I Can Open It For You) was with JAT to talk about the JAT translation contest. Holly has previously translated from Japanese to English, but this time, she spoke about her new picture book Listening to Trees: George Nakashima, Woodworker, which launched on October 22.

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Attending my first in-person event in a while, it was wonderful to meet writers, illustrators, and translators live again in Tokyo. We would hear about how a suggestion by Cathy Hirano, much decorated translator and Holly’s long-time friend, sparked work on this book about George Nakashima, who was a second generation Japanese-American, and how a love of wood and woodworking running through from her father gave her motivation to persevere through many years of archival and onsite research, visits to Nakashima Woodworkers on trips back to the U.S., and many drafts before a manuscript was sent for submission by her agent.

We also heard from the book’s illustrator, Toshiki Nakamura, who is also a professional animator. It was refreshing to hear about how the publisher’s art director gave clear instructions on specific parts and the style of the illustrations. Holly waited eagerly to see how the work was put together, and it came in the form of a near final draft. We also learned that the day of the event in Tokyo was in fact the first time the author and illustrator had actually met, and that it is not an uncommon situation for the author and illustrator to meet only after the book is published.

Holly talked about how she chose to tell the story of George Nakashima’s journey in haibun, a combination of haiku and prose, and also shared that she had submitted back matter about the form, Nakashima’s woodworking approach, and a timeline in her manuscript. Her careful consideration of what to include and how to present it, along with the overall message of the book, resulted in the back matter making it from manuscript through to the finished book.

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Author Holly Thompson and illustrator Toshiki Nakamura meeting for the first time (photo courtesy of Petar Tasev)

Having come across picture books and their translated versions with back matter, I realized that providing these explanatory notes offers supplementary information and can sometimes be helpful for interpreting an otherwise vague or multi-layered message. It struck me that it could be thought of as somewhat similar to a pitch, conveying the drive and reason behind the proposal for a project. In this book, the back matter was thoughtful and meticulously crafted.

Another takeaway from the session on this beautiful picture book is rooted in Holly’s connections that developed along her creative journey – a love of wood and woodworking in the family opened the door to George Nakashima’s work, which sparked a suggestion from a long-time friend and led to visits to and correspondence with the Nakashima family, and a chance to work with a publisher she admired to realize that dream publication.

The beauty of this book is that it doesn’t tell us just George Nakashima’s journey but also hints of the story behind its creation. Opening with a passage from George’s daughter Mira Nakashima, it closes with the stamps of all parties connected to the project, from Holly’s explanation of the haibun form and a timeline of George Nakashima’s life to his woodworking approach adorned with Toshiki’s illustrations through to photos of actual George Nakashima furniture.

It was most satisfying and gratifying to see a book created in this way and, certainly, to read. It served as another reminder that it is connections, and how we connect, that make such projects possible. And on the day of this presentation, a new connection was made when someone asked about translating Listening to Trees into Japanese.

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The creators of the book flanked by attendees (photo courtesy of Petar Tasev)

Jan Mitsuko Cash on Houses with a Story, 2024 Batchelder Winner

by Deborah Iwabuchi in Maebashi, Japan

Today, we’re talking with Jan Mitsuko Cash, winner of the 2024 Batchelder Award for her translation of Houses with a Story by Seiji Yoshida, published in 2023 by Amulet Books. The original title was ものがたりの家—吉田誠治 美術設定集, published by PIE International.

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Deborah Iwabuchi: I was delighted to hear you speak at the online Translator’s Social during the 2024 Summer SCBWI Conference. Thank you for taking time out of your schedule to talk to us for our blog!

Jan Mitsuko Cash: Thank you so much for inviting me to talk. It’s an absolute pleasure.

Deborah: To introduce you here, I learned at the Social that you started out translating novels, light novels, and lots of manga, most recently Horror Collector by Midori Sato, before you were approached by Abrams Books (of which Amulet is an imprint) about translating an art book. This turned out to be Houses With a Story. So you were hired to do the book. Was there anything you considered before accepting the job?

Jan: Whenever I consider a project, I usually scope out the content. It can sometimes be a challenge living in the US, since I can’t easily (or economically) obtain the books and need to evaluate them based on the preview pages or reviews in Japanese. For Houses with a Story, I spent some time looking at the handwritten portions, since those types of notes can be difficult to read. Luckily, Yoshida’s handwriting is very tidy and the pages were designed so that all the text was legible. I’ve had some books where I needed to squint because the text was scanned at a low resolution or not meant to be read. I joke with other translators that crying is part of my translation process—since it can make handwriting and pixelated text easier to read.

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Original book with handwritten text

Deborah: I’ll have to make a note of that! It’s been a few months since the Translator’s Social. There was a delay because I really wanted to read Houses with a Story before interviewing you. Contrary to your situation, it’s not always easy to get the English books here in Japan. I recently got ahold of a copy and rather than diving into it, I had to stop and study the cover for a while. This book is full of illustration and text, literally from cover to cover. I finally made it to the title page, where I was glad to see your name writ large.

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Then I went onto the table of contents, which has thumbnails of each of the houses, along with titles that neatly describe who lives in the house.

Eventually I made it to the Foreword and kind of melted into the world of Seiji Yoshida. Maybe it was because he mentions the hideout in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and the mountain hut in Heidi. Those were two books I loved as a child, and I was suddenly back in them, imagining those places as Yoshida did. It took a while, but I finally went on to the houses, starting with the “Mischievous Bridge Tower Keeper” (“Nasty Bridge-Tower Keeper” in the original), enjoying the illustrations and reading every word of text. Then, about 25 pages in, I remembered that you had translated it all. That thought pulled me out of the world of the reader-in-a-dream and refocused me on your task.

I went back to my notes from the Translator’s Social: “A spread about toilets: did research, handwritten text, beautiful but a challenge throughout the text.” I flipped ahead to “Sidebar: A Word on Toilets.” It reminded me that not only did each of the houses have its own concept, but also a unique and lengthy list of technical terms, and now my mind was full of the translator looking up words straight through the entire book. Can you tell me about the research you did, your resources and how you went about the translation?

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Half of the spread on toilets…

Jan: If I can’t find something in the Kenkyusha dictionaries, I look up the Japanese Wikipedia article, then the English terms from the linked articles. As a fiction translator, I often have to work with terminology and subject matter that I’m unfamiliar with, so the challenge usually starts with finding the equivalent specialized word in English. Once I have the keywords I’m looking for, I try to read one or two sources in Japanese, and I read a lot more articles in English to see the type of vocabulary surrounding the term. For example, I’ll go to architecture websites and try to get a better feel for how they describe structures and then I’ll mimic the type of language they use while translating.

It’s been a bit too long since I translated Houses with a Story for me to remember specific examples, but when I was working on a translation about figure skating, I’d spend a few hours each week watching training videos and performances to pick up on the phrasing used. For example, skaters say they “land” jumps in English, but that isn’t something that can be easily looked up or gleaned from the Japanese.

Deborah: This all backs up my theory of the translator as an artisan—going through prescribed and laborious steps that lead to a work of art. At the Social you were asked about how you keep up with Japanese while living in the US. You said you made regular trips here (Japan) before the pandemic, but that long stays had a detrimental effect on your English. Would you like to add to that?

Jan: When I was visiting Japan in the past, I’d usually stay with my Japanese relatives. Most of them don’t speak English, so I’d go months at a time speaking exclusively in Japanese and only reading in English. Unfortunately, spoken language tends to be all or nothing for me, so my Japanese also gets much worse when I’m in the US for too long.

Deborah: Going back to Houses, were there any stories that were particular favorites, that were fun to translate? I had fun going back and forth between the exteriors and interiors, and then got caught up by the written descriptions. I got so into the difficulties of the different lives in all the houses that I was relieved when I set eyes on the modern conveniences (washer and dryer) in the “Reserved Mechanic’s Cottage”.

Jan: I liked “Methodical Witch’s House” the most, which seems fitting now that we’re getting into the spooky season. The overhead view of her yard was a lot of fun to work on.

I also felt an affinity for “Grass-Roofed House in the Snowy Country,” having lived in Wisconsin for a year. I don’t think I would want to live in a place where my eyelashes regularly freeze together again, but I felt grateful for the conveniences of central heat and air while I was working on that page.

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Deborah: Did you have any contact with the author/illustrator? I felt like I got to know him a little towards the end in “Sidebar: Author’s Work Studio” and then in the background information and drawing techniques he described in the last sections of the book.

Jan: I almost exclusively translate on commission for publishers, so I’ve never had direct contact with authors while working on books. Sometimes I wish I could pick their brains!

Deborah: What are you working on now? Anything interesting on the horizon? Plans to visit Japan?

Jan: I’m currently working on a lot of manga and a few novels. I usually work on fifty or more books in a year as a full-time freelancer, which is about the number needed to avoid having a day job, so every week is different.

Deborah: (Eyes popping)

Jan: This month, I’m going to be helping with some odds and ends for Our Aimless Nights, which is a two-volume teen romance manga being published digitally by Azuki. I had a lot of fun working with my editor on that one. I’m also working on Baby Bear’s Bakery, an adorable series about a little bear who sells cakes! That one is published by Denpa. Baby Bear can be a challenge, since it’s full of wordplay and has very little space for the text, but the editors are really great at making the puns I submit even better. Other than those, I’m also continually working on Horror Collector and simulpubs (manga chapters that are released in English at the same time as the Japanese) like Shinobi Undercover and Hakutaku—one of those is about ninja and the other one is about kids making a video game.

Once work slows down this year, I’m going to Japan in the winter with some friends to ring in the New Year (and hopefully get some rest!).

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Here’s a screenshot of Jan—with the star—and other translators at the Translator’s Social, part of the SCBWI Summer Conference 2024. Deborah is in the top row in red, peeking over Jan’s left shoulder.

Read more about how Jan got into translation and the many other types of jobs she has done throughout her career in this interview with Jennifer O’Donnell and Wesley O’Donnell, who have kindly allowed us to link to it.

Lisa Wilcut on I CAN OPEN IT FOR YOU

By Deborah Iwabuchi in Maebashi, Japan

On March 22, 2024, twenty-seven people from around the world joined us on Zoom as SCBWI Japan hosted Lisa Wilcut to talk about her translation of a new book by Shinsuke Yoshitake. Yoshitake has published many children’s books, most of which follow a single pithy theme and appear in a similar format. They are familiar to and loved by Japanese readers young and old, and make great gifts.

Things got interesting right away, when moderator Susan Jones, our SCBWI Japan translator coordinator, began by asking Lisa about the title. The beautifully alliterated Japanese title is Akira ga akete ageru kara, or “Akira will open it for you.” The main character is a little boy named Akira, and akete ageru is a polite way of offering to open something for someone. Since small Japanese children often refer to themselves by their names, the original title is an idiomatic phrase used by Japanese children Akira’s age.

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Japanese title has alliteration, with the same character at the beginning of each line, including the name of the little boy, Akira.

The title presented by US publisher Chronicle Books is I Can Open It For You, while UK’s Thames Hudson published it as I Can Open That! In fact, it turns out that the name of the protagonist—Akira—is not used at all in either of the English versions of the book. This, we learned, is true of all Yoshitake’s English translations—rather than changing the name of the character to one familiar to readers, the text is translated without it. I might note here that, through text and illustrations, Yoshitake’s books actually lend themselves to this solution to the eternal issue of what to do about names in translation.

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American edition title

Since Lisa did the translation in American English and was not involved in the adjustments made to the British version, I Can Open It For You was the one we heard about.

For the next part of the session, Kazumi Wilds, our Regional Illustrator Coordinator, read the Japanese version, followed by Lisa reading the English. Little Akira wants to grow up and be able to open things for himself and, more importantly, for others, rather than always being the one who gets helped. He thinks about all the things he might be able to open, both real and fantastic.

With each item he thinks about opening, Akira has a sound that goes with it—the sound of it opening. Which brings us to what Lisa described as the elephant in the room—onomatopoeia, a form of language that is very common in Japanese and wreaks fear in the heart of the J to E translator. How common is it? Well, I cannot spell “onomatopoeia” without looking it up, but the word in Japanese is simply gi’on, the same word used for “sound effect.” If used sparsely, these “sound effect” words can often be worked around in a translation, but for this book, onomatopoeia was at the heart of it.

Rico Komanoya, who runs Compass Rose Editions, is a book packager, rights agent and translator who bought the rights for I Can Open It For You. She also has experience translating Yoshitake’s books. With this one, though, she decided she needed help working with all of the onomatopoeia, and connected with Lisa to do the translation.

I bought the Kindle version of this book ahead of time and kind of zapped through the onomatopoeia. When Lisa read for us, though, the effect was delightful and each word perfectly matched the item being opened. They were a combination of sound words—some you may have heard and some that Lisa made up for the occasion, like “fwipp” and “poomp,”and words that matched the situation, like “groan” “rip” and “sparkle.” This is definitely a book that lends itself to reading aloud.

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Lisa told us how she researched the sound words for this project—by going around opening things. It sounded like fun, until I imagined myself opening up mountains of cans of sardines and bottles of corked champagne before I could figure out how to spell what they sounded like.  

In the second half of the book, though, Akira opens things that are enormous and spectacular, situations for which sounds can only be imagined. For these, Lisa chose short words that kept the reader’s attention on the unusual scenes, but also sounded great when read aloud. One she said she still wasn’t convinced had worked was “Ping!” for the sound of a boulder opening to reveal a fossil of a dinosaur skeleton. But looking at Akira using his magic star wand to do it, it seemed just about right to me.

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Although not completely in the translator’s realm, the sound words were all drawn by hand—illustrations themselves, so the English sound words had to be drawn and then inserted into them. When the translator chose the word, she also needed to consider the space in the illustration available to it. You can see here that “Ping!” fits neatly between the two halves of the boulder.

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Participants from all over the globe! It was exciting to add faces to names of translators we know from other countries!

This session with Lisa was helpful in terms of discussing translation technique for an issue that can be an ordeal for J to E translators, but I also came out of it with a number of good non-technical takeaways.

  1. Connections are important. Lisa was connected to Rico Komanoya through a non-kid-lit channel. As translators we never know where our next job is coming from, but we should bear in mind that it will most likely come from someone we know, or a contact of someone we know who recommended us to them.
  2. Lisa talked about how much time it took to translate I Can Open It For You compared to the amount of text that was involved. This made sense after hearing about the work she did to come up with the onomatopoeia!
  3. Name the translator issues. Yoshitake’s books famously do not name their translators on the cover or even on the title page. You’ll find “Lisa Wilcut” in tiny print on the copyright page at the back of the book. We were, however, heartened to hear that, the Publisher’s Weekly notice (see below) included her name, and that libraries carrying the book are listing both the author and translator in their catalogs.
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Lisa Wilcut is a writer, editor, and translator based in Yokohama. I Can Open It For You was her first picture book translation. She has been recognized by the Agency of Culture Affairs of the Government of Japan for her literary translation, and her creative fiction has appeared in Tokyo Weekender and the anthology Structures of Kyoto.

Quick Vibes from the “Big Feelings” Creative Lab

by Andrew Wong, Tokyo, Japan

SCBWI held a separate virtual edition of the SCBWI Winter Conference 2024 to offer people like me the chance to join live online across different time zones and access recordings of the event. Given a choice of three live online creative workshops, which are also available for later viewing, I plumped for The Big Feelings Picture Book Workshop led by Melissa Manlove. The 2-hour online workshop gave me the chance to bounce ideas and gain inspiration early on a Sunday morning with creators across the pond.

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During the session, we worked through several exercises to delve into our past, into the feelings of our memories as a child, and talked about using them to tell stories that help children give shape to their futures. It developed into an exchange where we put our ideas and questions out in the chat and got live feedback without ever seeing each others faces or revealing our own.

Other than being emboldened by this faceless anonymity to put out responses in the chat (which I would have been done more readily and quickly if I were typing away on a keyboard rather than swiping it on my phone), my eyes took in the many brief text responses that communicated ideas and feelings succinctly. Words with deep, powerful nuances that evoked emotion were placed alongside ones that colored the imagination to create the setting. Not unlike some of the decisions wordsmiths sometimes make.

When considering how to make a story commercial came up, some of us thought about using animal characters for our stories, which is not uncommon in picture books to help make a story universal and speak more widely. While there was opinion that animal characters may better convey story elements, some of us also noted that some animals would work better over others.

The question of who reads picture books also came into the equation. Picture books are (generally) created for children but read for (to) them and purchased by adults. It made me think that the choice of animal over human protagonist could be made to remove some human aspects that are not essential to or could complicate the story, and might even sway any decision to pick up the book.

Like readers, translators do not get to see these decisions and the many alternatives that fall by the wayside. Since communicating with the author is not a luxury often available to a translator, creative workshops like this get me thinking about why some picture books can tug those heartstrings, and about the words and characters chosen to tell the story. I’d like to think that these allow me to delve deeper and feel closer to the story in its original language. And if I were to translate it, along with any research and background information, being able to feel closer to the story would be like having an emotional guide as I find a way to convey the story in another language.

Reflections on Self-publication with Kinota Braithwaite

By Andrew Wong, Tokyo, Japan

Self-publication is not normally considered a viable option for translators because acquiring the rights to a copyrighted text requires resources and legal expertise. But if you were the author, you could self-publish your work and get it translated as well. With a chance to dip into these rarely touched topics at SCBWI, I jumped in to join a crowd of about twenty, from as far as Chicago and Thailand, all curious to know what we could learn.

 

In an hour-long conversation, Japan RTC Susan Jones teased out the story behind why and how parent and teacher Kinota Braithwaite became a public speaker on racism and bullying. Most recently, he was on NHK’s Ohayo Nippon program in November (write-up in Japanese) and then again on NHK World-Japan shortly after the SCBWI event. Kinota wrote Mio The Beautiful, the first of three picture books, in response to his daughter’s experience of bullying at a Japanese public school. Although it was initially written as a means to heal the wounds in his daughter’s heart, Kinota soon realized he wanted more Japanese children to have access to it. He found a friend to translate it and scoured Instagram for an illustrator (who both declined to be named on the cover) to create the picture book in bilingual format, a decision made so that the story and its message would also be conveyed through the original text.

To the translator in me, a bilingual book first comes across as a lost opportunity (to translate), but looking at the bigger picture, being able to see the translation together with the story in the original language means they can be read by their intended (two) audiences, both at once. Bilingual books also give readers the chance to read the original text and understand how it is conveyed in translation, which also reveals the many decisions taken in creating the translation. This is a bonus and an invaluable resource.

Kinota then talked about how he ran crowdfunding campaigns to fund Kei The True Friend and Mios Wish after self-funding Mio The Beautiful. While I know of traditional publishing houses turning to Kickstarters for their publications, it was refreshing to hear Kinota speak candidly about how he made sure his campaigns were more likely to succeed.

 

Another takeaway from the session presented itself from a slightly different entry point. Having used Kindle Direct Publishing (KDP) for self-publishing both in print and digitally for his picture books, Kinota mentioned how the on-demand service not only frees him from worrying about book sales and inventory, but also allows him to concentrate on creating an author platform to market his books and convey his voice and message. Translators are also creators, and it struck me then that I could do more to shape my own platform in a similar way.

Besides touching on things he learned through the course of self-publishing his books, such as hiring a professional designer to make sure the layout is appropriate for submission to the digital platform, Kinota also mentioned the need to keep writing and publishing books (a fourth book is in the works), not unlike creating your own portfolio as an illustrator, even before your work earns recognition. Despite it being an online event, I certainly felt the passion and energy behind Kinota’s efforts to fight racism and bullying, and his perseverance and sense of mission perhaps lay a lesson for translators and creators alike—keep creating and make sure our work remains visible!