Ken Liu Response - Suis

Ken Liu’s introduction to this collection of short stories is extremely important because it serves to dispel any “preconceived” notion of Chinese science fiction (and perhaps Chinese literature as a whole). He states that “it is far more useful … to study the authors as individuals and to treat their works on their own terms rather than try to impose a preconceived set of expectations on them because they happen to be Chinese” when asked to define the genre in contrast to its American counterpart (14). This reminds me of the idea that categories sometimes do more harm than good. Categorizing literature can aid in one’s understanding of it in terms of its genre but such labels can also reduce the work to the category. It’s great how Ken Liu strives to stray from categorization (and perhaps also stereotyping) and asks the audience to view these works without bounds. I think that Ken Liu understands the complex task of a translator and the burden he carries as an English representative of these works.

I was particularly interested in the domestication and foreignization of foods in the two works. In Xia Jia’s “Tongtong’s Summer,” Liu translates the dish “iced sour plum soup” and it reads as a clear attempt to domesticate the dish (118). It stuck out as a little awkward to me because although I understand each of those words individually, I am not familiar with the dish. I can see why he chose not to use the Chinese name for it as it would have been entirely foreign to me, and perhaps to most American readers. However, in Hao Jingfang’s  “Folding Beijing,” he uses “chow mein” (261). This reminds me of the effects of globalization and how some dishes are more recognizable than others due to this phenomenon. I find this interesting and I wonder what determines which dishes become recognized by their original phonetic name and which ones don’t. (Popularity? Pronunciation?) Other examples: he domesticates “sour rice noodles” (221-222) but uses the Japanese term “sashimi” (242).

I was also enchanted by the way he translates the beautiful descriptions of the sky in this novel. The sky, I observe, is an important detail in “Folding Beijing” as it describes the passing of time and more importantly, the privileges of each class (or “Space”). The sky is described most beautifully for the First Space: The sky was a deep and pure azure, with an orange fringe at the horizon, decorated with thin, slanted wisps of cloud” (238). This description conveys the elegance that the First Space is further described with later by use of the terms “fringe” and “decorated.” The language is also delicate, keeping with the theme. Translating literature requires intention. It requires understanding of literary devices and what descriptions are conveying. Although I don’t know the original, I am sure that Liu translates these descriptions full of meaning with intent and understanding.

Suis