Real Manga Challenge

Before leaving Kyoto in December, a few friends and I decided to fly into Book Off to see if we could grab anything of interest on the cheap. I picked up a few original Japanese volumes of Honey & Clover and Fruits Basket (for less than $1 per book, of course).

Upon returning to the States, I realized that, well, Japanese manga’s pretty difficult to read, even when I’ve already taken three years of Japanese. I haven’t really attempted to examine Fruits Basket, but looking at the level of language in Honey & Clover, I’ve realized that josei manga is clearly aimed at an older readership. Yes, it’s kind of obvious, but a simple thing like colloquial language (and boy does H&C show off its conversational vocabulary) really emphasizes the relationship between audience demographics and linguistic content.

My purpose for reading original Japanese manga is two-fold: one, to read the original (providing a bit of context, especially since the Japanese language is so contextual), and two, to improve my Japanese skills. In relation to the latter point, I know that manga isn’t the best type of literature with which to be practicing my reading ability, but the enjoyment accompanying the reading comics certainly helps the ease into education in the long run. The problem that I face: finding manga that fits the right level for my reading abilities.

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Epiphany of the Rising Sun

This morning, I had a revelation that put my entire geeky childhood into perspective. The funny coincidence: the same thing happened simultaneously to a classmate sitting directly to my right, and we melted into hysterics together.

Setting: Japanese. Fourth-semester. My teacher, カィザー先生, talking about the grammar point of the day, pulled one of my classmates’ shoes into an example, and called them… “ぴかぴか” (romanized: pika pika). Now these were a pair of nice black dress shoes, but seemed to have been polished a minimum of one dozen times. Of course, everyone glazed over “ぴかぴか” until I said, “Wait… shiny? Does that mean shiny??”

I think you might know where this one is going.

In the first couple years of high school, I went through a large stint of trying to figure out the etymologies of every Pokemon’s name. Um… because I was a Pokemon Master. Duh. (In fact, I was the first to buy it in my school when it came out in fifth grade, even though I had no idea what the game was about.) I don’t think I ever considered that the ちゅ (read: chu) in Pikachu’s moniker would ever mean mouse*, even though I had encountered the word multiple times with this commercial:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/v/ga62uiXbEjI&rel=1]

*In fact, ちゅ does not mean mouse; rather, it is another transliteration of a mouse’s squeak.

Anyway, I spent the next twenty minutes of class in a complete daze because of the previously mentioned intellectual orgasmed. ぴかぴか = shiny. ちゅ = squeaky. Go impress your Pokefriends.

Go look up some more info on Japanese sound effect transliteration (which I find interesting, if you compare it to American comics and their common onomatopoeic tendencies). But I remain unawares to the origin of “ぴかぴか”*.

*Jim Breen’s online Japanese dictionary only gives “ぴかぴか光る 【ぴかぴかひかる】 (v5r) to sparkle; to glitter; to twinkle”

Or, instead, you could simply spend hours dying of cuteness overload:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_ECcbjYW9g&rel=1]