Other countries’ novels can be similar, but Japanese novels, in particular, often have so many characters that you might find yourself lost and unable to focus. Sure, sometimes it’s just a lack of concentration while reading, but even with intent focus, you’ve probably had those moments of confusion. So, what’s the deal? 🤔
It seems that Japanese names, which are written surname-first, and their word order should be easy to understand since they resemble ours. But if you look closer, there are quite a few differences. The most confusing part? Titles and forms of address. In our country, using just the first name is common, but in Japan, both surname and first name are used as titles. (Sure, we sometimes use ‘Mr. Kim’ too.) In Japan, there are so many surnames that this method of distinction isn’t much of a hassle. Authors often use both surname and first name when referring to protagonists in the third person, which can be super confusing at first. Honestly, it still trips me up these days. 😅
‘Mr. Suzuki, are you okay today?’When Miyako asked from behind, Yoichi turned around and responded.‘Ah. Mr. Kosakai. Yes, I’m fine today.’
This passage features only ‘Yoichi Suzuki’ and ‘Miyako Kosakai’. Even with full attention, if it’s the novel’s beginning, you might go, ‘Oh darn, why is he answering Kosakai when Miyako asked?’ Plus, with all these unfamiliar words, once Korean particles are added, it gets even more confusing. For instance, is ‘Chieko-da’ referring to Ms. Chieko or introducing a new character named ‘Chieko-da’? And with ‘Tsuyagi-ga’, it’s hard to tell if it’s a person’s subject marker or their name. Japanese surnames are often place names, adding to the confusion. 🤯
If the protagonists in the story get married, things get even more tangled. Since the Meiji Restoration, Japan’s law requires married couples to have the same surname. Most often, it’s the man’s surname, but sometimes it’s the other way around. However, many working women continue using their maiden names for career continuity. It makes you wonder why such a law even exists. 🤷♀️
Let’s set the scene for clarity. Our ‘Yoichi Suzuki’ and ‘Miyako Kosakai’ have finally tied the knot after a long romance. As an office couple, Miyako decides to use her maiden name at work to avoid confusing colleagues, while at home, she takes her husband’s name. Today marks their first workday back from their honeymoon in Hawaii.
‘Suzuki, wake up. We need to leave early for work.’
‘Got it, Suzuki’Kosakai always struggles with early rising, even before marriage. Today, Yoichi’s mom wakes up early, heads upstairs, and bursts in, saying:‘Isn’t our new daughter awake yet? Miyako, get up!’
‘Oh my, why the sudden entrance.. Yes, mom.’After a quick breakfast, Miyako and Yoichi head to work. Luckily, there’s no traffic, so they’re not late. The Suzuki couple catches the closing elevator doors, sighing in relief.‘Hey Yoichi, finally done with the long holiday? How’s Mrs. Suzuki feeling?’
‘Oh, it’s Chieko. Please, call me Kosakai at work.’
‘Talking to Chieko, the colleague? Or me, Chieko-da?’ 🤔
Is this a bit of a stretch? Maybe. But you get the gist; it’s naturally confusing. Then,
‘Hey, Suzu!’
When nicknames pop up (like ‘Suzu’ for ‘Suzuki’), it complicates things further. You might find yourself so puzzled about the relationship between ‘Suzu’ and ‘Suzuki’ that you just close the book. 📚😵
I enjoy Japanese mysteries and essays because they tend to be light reads. But now, I’ve developed a habit of skimming through to check the number of characters before buying. If there are too many protagonists, it’s no longer a ‘light read’ for me. This applies to other countries’ books as well… 🌍📖
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