The Color of a Criminal

Sweat sopped from his pale skin, which shone like iridescent glass. He eased his disease-ridden body from his upholstered throne and raised a crooked, bony finger, pointing at the faint outline of a man across from him. "You are evil, yes. So... your skin must be dark!"

The man looked at the older gentleman, his eyes falling on the pen poised in the gentleman's hand, ink dripping onto the paper. He looked down as his bronze skin materialized. "Isn't that a poor description of a villain?" he asked.

"Don't tell me how to do my job!" the old man wretched, falling back into his chair as he scribbled away at his manuscript. "Everyone knows dark skin and eyes are evil!" Globs of sweat mixed with the ink, creating the author's story like witchcraft on the paper.

2 Days Later (Serious Spoilers)

As you can probably tell, I wrote this two days after another post on Angels & Demons.

In general, a number of fact jumps increased in intensity.  A few other things I mentioned in that post also got worse--Langdon and Vittoria chatted it up after finding out the killer was a few feet away instead of rushing in. They would have gotten him and prevented two killings. Possibly. It would've at least turned out better than them rushing in once everyone was dead, for the first time not considering that the killer might still be there, and then getting caught. Of course, none of these possibilities are true in the constraints of the story, but the odd chattiness makes it seem that way. It almost seemed too stupid to be realistic compared to their usual protocol. I mean, Vittoria was willing to rush two old ladies, but not rush the building where the actual killer is? 

It's a World of Pale Blond Hair and Blue Eyed Characters

And the other thing--pale and obviously handsome Langdon (I'm sorry--American White men don't tend to look that handsome. This is why you're not supposed to impose descriptions and impressions on the reader. Langdon is obviously the fraternity-type legacy professor who gives grades to White male athletes. If you know the type and Brown's background, you'd agree; if not, don't get offended!) instantly describes the Arab as a "dark monster." Okay, I only have to read that once, right? Nope. Ol' blue eyes then thinks it's horrible for him to have dark eyes (I always read stories when I was small about teenaged white female characters hating brown eyes and I never knew what that was about). It didn't mean dark and evil eyes... he just had "black" eyes. The "animal" he was later described as seemed less about his killing and more about his aforementioned appearance.

The things you notice when you aren't in the worship-blond-hair-and-blue-eyes group.

When I write my stories, I do not only write them for African-Americans, but I am aware that less open people will be turned off by descriptions of curls, curves, and thick curly hair. That is out of my control and also something that I should not cater to. However, I've read books that cater to White folk all my life. They hardly attempt to acknowledge there is diversity in the world. Sure, I threw in a black character, but if my other characters are surrounded by White people and only talk about "White ideals," is that a reflection of my environment?

I read back on stories I wrote years ago, where I describe pale skin and grey or green eyes like I'm describing the Holy Grail (luckily it was hardly ever blue eyes, but brown was sadly not that frequent either). Surrounded by White writers, I became used to my own exclusion. In order to think they were beautiful, I had to think I was not. It was hardly ever a neutral message and never told me both were beautiful. Which brings me to my next point.

The problem I see in books today is we aren't just excluded--we are excluded in a way that makes us seem subpar. If pale skin is so beautiful that it warrants a page-long description, the skin this person have before s/he became a vampire (for example) must have been ugly! (I make this sound like a deduction, but some of these stories do state it explicitly.) Similarly, reading one White person call another dark as if that is "exotic" is strange, but it sends a message.

Then there are authors who, whenever making a sci-fi species that is enslaved, decide to make them brown-skinned. I've even seen cases where only the enslaved have skin colors... But that's another story.

No one ever looks at it as, you are abnormally pale! Yet it seems to happen for all other groups.

It's understandable if this is the author's ideals manifesting, but my point is it's the majority of authors. In one of my manuscripts, I describe pale skin in ways it appears, similarly to White authors, but I do not glorify it. To people used to its glorification, the descriptions could come off as purposefully degrading. (Many authors will describe the pale skin and crooked nose of a character to a vivid T, then the label of "beautiful" or "ugly" they attach seems to be arbitrary, but they do it nonetheless.)

Back to Angels & Demons--I still love the book. I was just moved to put it on the chopping block as an example for some reason. It did raise good points outside of the strange fact-jump inconsistencies (unless it's a pattern!).

Surprises in Dan Brown's Angels & Demons (Spoiler Alert)

There are a lot of character inconsistencies in Dan Brown's Angels & Demons. I'm surprised, but the urge to point them out grew because there were so many. Because of it, the best characters are sometimes the ones with the least showtime.

Sometimes the characters do things that are, well, out of character. Here's a few examples just from the past 40 or so pages:

The Temporary Expert

The Case of Vittoria

Vittoria, despite being an educated scientist, does not understand why one must wear gloves when dealing with ancient documents. She asks similar "stupid questions" throughout the book. I can't help but wonder if it's because she's female. Of course, she's a great character and Dan Brown does flaunt her mental prowess.

I believe Brown is trying to make Langdon the archive expert and not her, but she would have some common sense knowledge. For instance, she should understand oxidation without Langdon explaining it to her. And she should not simply state that they can replace an ancient book removed from the archive room as if it will not be damaged by the air or destroyed in the frantic search they will be carrying out.

Vittoria, despite supposedly believing in God, does not understand the meaning of something being hidden in plain sight in a document, only for those who understand. Ever read the Bible?

I know this is a symptom of her femaleness, but she states God is a she, which it would have been in character for her to provide an explanation. There is none. I do think Brown added this because a lot of "progressive" females like to say this. My mother and I both agreed that a female God wouldn't have made man first or put him in charge to make up for his weaknesses. There's also the possibility a "she" wouldn't have created them at all.

The Case of Langdon

Langdon, who states that he is familiar with only a little Italian from his art history studies begins translating ancient Italian that even Vittoria, a native speaker, stated she could not translate. In the next chapter, he "struggles" but that seems like an understatement.

Sudden fact changes are a prevalent type of jump. At the end of one chapter, Langdon says he needs to write something down but they don't have time, and in the next chapter he's already deciphered the text without even glancing at it again.

Miscellaneous

Similarly, the Illuminati is stated to be against Catholicism for most of the beginning of the book, then against Christianity, then against all religions towards the middle. The latter is certainly false (let's not forget they recruited Muslims and anyone against Christianity according to the book...), but the first is the only one that Langdon/Brown explains through history. Outsiders just start saying Christianity, which is understandable, especially if they're Catholic, but Langdon himself starts confusing Catholicism with Christianity.

Another thing that gets me is sometimes the same concept is repeated over three times by one or two characters over the span of a chapter or two (~3-10 pages), I believe in an attempt to have it seem more complicated. Perhaps this is an effective technique and I only notice because I am usually familiar with the concepts.

Also, exotic or otherwise known-to-be-unsettling terms are used to describe the two Black people who have made brief appearances, although a Japanese women is mentioned and we have an Arabian character. So an American is exotic? And an African? But not someone from Asian countries? Got it.

And here's a funny one: whereas The Lost Symbol might be considered too actiony, Angels & Demons is the opposite: when tension is high and time is short, Langdon and Vittoria stop to chat. Every time. Without fail. Not only that, but they chat about unimportant things. Slightly related, but nothing to do with solving the crisis at hand. It is incredibly effective at further building the tension--I have to suppress the urge to skip their conversation.

And a big spoiler: Langdon discovers the clues to the so-called Path of Illumination were lain out in a way scientists would understand. Not only is Vittoria a scientist who figures out little if any of the clues, even as a team they have such a hard time (Langdon actually figures the stuff out a little too quickly, especially seeing that his art history knowledge wouldn't line up with the modern times, which Brown also points out). Langdon flipping through art catalogs really makes you wonder how it's supposed to be done.

Sweet and Sour 

Don't get me wrong--I love the book, though it seems to genuinely romanticize one group of killers by comparing them to another (something Brown did not do in The Lost Symbol). The way Langdon keeps hoisting science over religion is strange considering the book is centered around God's existence. Both of these points could be really good character development on Langdon's part, but I'll have to wait until the end to see. Plenty of these are small issues that just caught my attention (and made me wonder about his editor(s))--I hope it never comes to a time when people try to censor authors. I do wonder how much similar slip ups in books say about the author's beliefs, though.

All We Need is Food!

"We don't need weapons or defense systems--all we need is food!" the cook cried merrily as his dishes bubbled away on the stove.

A man stood by his side, peering into a pot. "Oh, that's a good point! If you can welcome your enemies in to a good meal, everything is at peace."

"No, no!" The cook hefted a lump of fufu. "Because you can just use food as your weapon!" The massive, steaming ball of fufu slipped from the cook's encouraging grasp and took the man to the floor.

Author's Note: I've never held fufu, so it could be completely light (particularly after being steamed, oops), but the image of it soaring through the air was a lovely image compared to chucking potatoes. I'm completely intrigued by it since I first saw it and always have an image of anything starchy being heavy at some point along its journey to the water.

Sweet Yams and Mashed Potatoes

When I was a child, I thought yams and sweet potatoes were two different things.
And then I learned they were the same.
And then I learned they were different.

Moral of the story: Seek and ye shall find. Look it up for yourself, even when you aren't that curious. Misinformation is everywhere.

Saying the two vegetables are the same is another example of cultural appropriation, where White people tell you that's just what dem Africans call it. Conversely, Africans will tell you they are most assuredly different vegetables.

It's like comparing a purple cabbage (yum) to bok choy.

Because US sweet potatoes are sometimes incorrectly called yams, some big-headed "experts" took it upon themselves to basically say yams don't exist. Cougar, puma, moun'in lion.

And that concludes this random bit of micro fiction from a page in my life.

銀色飛行船・ぎんいろひこうせん・Silver Airship by supercell: English Translation

I was listening to a really beautiful song and noticed there wasn't an English translation. If there is, well, here's another! I tried to keep the same meanings on each line as the Japanese, but it was especially hard with "Jitensha kago ni kaban futaribun nosete" which I would translate as "our two bags placed in the bicycle basket" or similar.

I may rework these lyrics to be less literal, but I thought I should leave them line for line because I remember I used to like comparing the Japanese with the English.

Silver Airship

by Supercell

If I stop climbing at this road,

You are always
Yawning,
Waiting there.

In this town smelling of salty winds
You and I both
Would become be adults.
That’s what I thought.

The seabirds cried
The road I took with you that summer,
I chase and chase.

Shining silver airship--
Only the sea remains the same.
On this hill, you laughed
I want to see you once more.

In the bicycle basket,
two bags side by side.
Complaining,
We pressed up the hill.

This road is straight--
I thought there was no way I could go wrong,
No matter where I went.

Flying silver airship--
I want to find that sky,
The wind caressed my cheek on that hill.
Now, there’s no one here.
No one’s here.

Dusk falls and silhouettes grow
I chased after you.
I have always liked you,
But I could never say it.

Shining silver airship,
Only the sea remains the same.
You laughed on this hill--
I want to see you once more.

Flying silver airship,
Waving, I saw you off that day.
This time, when I climb that road,
I will be waiting on this hill.

I will be the one waiting.

___

銀色飛行船 is copyright supercell. This translation is copyright Krystal K. Brown (and supercell). When using this translation, please create the translator and the original artist.

About the Translation

Fun fact: I learned 坂道押す (sakamichi osu) is a short way of saying getting off your bike and pushing it up a steep hill (坂町を手押しで登る/sakamichi wo te-oshi de noboru), which is why the characters were complaining. Before, I assumed it meant "to press up the hill" as an emphasis on its steepness alone. As you can see, to maintain the simplicity, I left it as that.

Update: I found other translations! Translations are always interesting to compare, so check them out! I took very few poetic liberties with mine, so it is more of a line-by-line translation.

I saw one that drew to my attention that the character may have been chasing the seabirds with the mysterious childhood love on the way home. It was a simple translation, so I should've spent more time analyzing it. At the same time, there's a bit I don't agree with in a few of the other translations (e.g. misplaced sentence subjects, skewed meaning by adding certain words). It's a tricky business! Feeling the song helps a lot.

I like "direct" translations because I've seen people say many times that a phrase doesn't exist in English when it does and completely change the Japanese meaning as a result, and in an attempt to be poetic (this is a major thing in college translation classes), they add in words that change the inflection of the sentence. More Japanese sentences can translate "as is" than I feel we are led to believe. When I feel certain that I've internalized the author's intended meaning, then I might seek to strengthen that meaning in English, but I think it's wrong to twist the original meaning into what you want it to be.

Then again, I'm someone who thinks book art is a horrible thing.

And looking back at the seabirds part, though it makes sense in English, it still doesn't click when I look at the Japanese. The style is more poetic than standard sentences, but I still think of it as her chasing the memory of the days when they walked together, the seabirds being an iconic part of that memory.

Going off what I said about replicating the author's intentions--some songs have short choppy lyrics, while others read like a story. Remembering this, I decided I won't alter my above translation to make it flow more in English. If she wanted to say "I watched clouds like silver airships in the sky" or "you took off in a silver airship" instead of "shining silver airship," she would have.

Using one of the first two quotes would be an example of extrapolating an ambiguous work and killing the romantic ambiguity. How? Because I don't know which meaning she had in mind (though I have a pretty good idea and am also 100% sure a solitary shining airship does not symbolize clouds), so choosing one would be allowing my personal first impression of the song to dictate the translation.

So, the point is, if the original work was ambiguous or mysterious, the translation should be, too. It's great that you understood her meaning, but putting an extended literal meaning instead of reserving the poetic form... destroys the poetry for anyone who reads your translation.

Now for an example of "correcting" word choice: notice how the lyricist chose to say "umidori" (seabirds) instead of "kamome" (seagulls).

If "seagulls" were the intended meaning, there's no obvious reason "umidori" would be chosen over "kamome," (perhaps for the emphasis of "umi") and in the case of a word preference, it was likely an image preference. There are many types of seabirds, and the lyricist is probably aware that people may think of the fellas pecking around in the water, pelicans, or the like instead of seagulls. At the same time, seabirds crying likely will make you think of seagulls, which is why I nearly chose that translation myself.

I think the usage of "seabird" allows your imagination to explore more, creating a nostalgic feeling.

And that's my stance on translation, still growing and evolving--a completely random tidbit about me. (But still writing-related!)

Castaway

Run from his home, 

he couldn't forget

the night when his family had made him forfeit

all that he owned.

Now all alone

and cold to the bone

he stared at the wall,

no paper, no phone.

No message to write, no story to tell

his own family told him to burn in Hell.

The streets, used as landfills

and the dumpsters' overspill

mocked his aching, growling stomach.

He'd bend, his ankles, knees, still swollen

as around him passed, in twos and fours, men.

But not one. Not one would lend a helping hand.

Dirty looks shot through his heart

from the ones whom this mess did start.

Kicked out of his own house into the dirt

the waist of his pants no longer girt.

Not a single coin did they leave in his pocket

for every coin was written on their docket.

In their greed, they'd met him with fire

cut him, dashed him, and called him a liar.

Without them on his side, who did he have?

No one, no Man who wouldn't take a jab

at his heart, at his mind--

whatever they could find

they took. 

Took, took.

Everything, everything was taken away

by those who he'd called family.

He huddled close to the birds and the squirrels

until the time of night when they whirled

to return to their homes and their beds and their worlds.

He stepped through the warm wind into the blue light

the moon quivering in all its glory and might.

His pockets were light and his soul was heavy

but his mind had finally been set free

of the banshee

that sung the sweet words that richness was material.

Because of that voice, his life had been serial.

He knelt on the sidewalk,

his fingers gripping the charcoal chalk

as he etched the message in his heart.

His family had given him the start

that he needed to fire the coals

to melt the heaviness in his soul.

The message was simple, straight to the point.

with greed, money did his family annoint.

But he was not innocent, unblemished, without fault--

On his sight, his material wealth had raised an assault.

But now he could see: he was rich with the word

the message, the truth, which had come like a bird.

The chalk scribbled the message in one word, six, seven

and in those words he thought he did see heaven:

"Without money, we would all be rich,

it's the material that makes us all so sick," which

darkens the mind and causes the homeless

and leaves us all with a feeling so lone'less.

The one place he had never known was Home.

Shalom.

The glow in his face

rose up to the place

where richness abounds

in a town

with streets of gold

and richness that by Man was untold.

___

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a free verse piece, but after the verse that doesn't rhyme at all, the Lord filled me with rhymes. Anyone who's read my previous posts knows I can't rhyme and typically avoid poetry.

Castaway is copyright Krystal K. Brown. All rights reserved. Do not use, copy, or distribute any part of Castaway without the express permission of the author.