Title Translation

* This was originally posted on my old blog on September 4, 2010.
* 筆者の以前のブログに2010年9月4日付で投稿された記事の再掲です。

As I like to play chess, I sometimes read books written by famous chess players. One such book that I've read recently is "How Life Imitates Chess" by Garry Kasparov, who is a Russian former World Chess Champion. Since many people think that he is the greatest chess player in history, you may have heard of his name even if you're not interested in chess. He is also well-known for his games against chess computers.

The book is about the power of tactical and strategic thinking that he has developed through chess, and he writes about how those ways of thinking can be adapted to real life. I found it very witty that he didn't title the book "How Chess Imitates Life" but "How Life Imitates Chess." I think this title strongly implies his love for chess and his attitude toward life. (Although Kasparov is not a native English speaker, he wrote this book originally in English with the help of an American ghostwriter.)

When I visited Amazon.com to buy this book, I ordered an English paperback edition without any hesitation as I knew that very few chess books are translated into Japanese due to the lack of popularity of chess in Japan. But that was not the case this time. It was after I finished reading it that I saw a Japanese translation for sale at a bookstore. I was glad, however, that I found the English edition prior to the Japanese one because the Japanese title on the cover was really terrible. It was translated as "決定力を鍛える (Improving Your Decision Making Skills)." What a boring title! It is true that Kasparov talks about the importance of decision making quite a few times in the book, the title in Japanese spoils all the atmosphere of the original one.

One of the possible ways to keep the original title untouched as much as possible might be to make use of katakana transliteration. This is actually very often done in translating titles of books, movies, songs, etc. into Japanese. However, it can also end up in making a ridiculous Japanese title. I saw a movie called "Saving Private Ryan" about ten years ago, and its Japanese title was "プライベート・ライアン." This is a correct transliteration of "Private Ryan" and we do have the katakana word "プライベート." The problem is that this katakana word is only for private meaning personal and individual, and never ever used for the rank of a soldier.

Translators (or publishers?), please put more care into title translation and think it out seriously. A good title is important as it can become the identity of the work.

Chess and Shogi

* This was originally posted on my old blog on August 12, 2010.
* 筆者の以前のブログに2010年8月12日付で投稿された記事の再掲です。

Shogi is a Japanese board game resembling chess in many ways. It is played by two players, and the purpose of the game is to checkmate the opponent's king. The origin of both chess and shogi is thought to be the ancient Indian game Chaturanga, which is also the common ancestor of other similar games such as Makruk in Thailand, Xiangqi in China and Janggi in Korea. Nevertheless, there are some major differences between chess and shogi. For example, in shogi, if you capture a piece of the opponent, you can later return it to the board as your own material. In chess, however, captured pieces are removed from the board for good.

I recently read an interesting story to do with this difference between chess and shogi. Just after the World War II, the General Headquarters of the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers (GHQ/SCAP), which occupied and governed Japan, tried to prohibit shogi by reasoning that the reuse of captured pieces was connected to the ill-treatment of prisoners of war. To overcome this crisis, Japan Shogi Association sent Kozo Masuda, who was one of the best shogi players at the time, to GHQ/SCAP as their representative. There, Masuda said to an officer of GHQ/SCAP, "What we do in shogi is effective utilization of human resources. In chess, the game of your culture, you kill all the captured pieces. This is absolutely an ill-treatment of prisoners, isn't it? Besides, even the Queen goes to war in chess, and you have to sacrifice her when King is in danger. We have no women in the battlefield of shogi. You say your culture has the manner of ladies first, but I really doubt it." After this meeting, GHQ/SCAP decided not to prohibit shogi.

I don't know if this story is entirely true or if there’s some fiction mixed in. In any event, to the modern eye, it looks quite silly to compare those two relative games to each other in such an ideological way and argue over which is superior. But even today, chess fans and shogi fans sometimes do not get along well. Some chess fans say that shogi is a mere local variation of chess and attracts a limited number of eccentrics, while chess is truly a global game whose value is recognized by hundreds of millions of people all over the world. Shogi fans, on the other hand, claim that chess is less complicated and it's a kind of primitive form of the more sophisticated game, shogi.

As a chess fan in the country of shogi, I hope harmonious co-existence and co-prosperity of both games. Actually, there are some good signs. One of the shogi variants has got rid of kanji marks from the pieces so that children and people from foreign countries easily understand the game. Bughouse and Crazyhouse are variants of chess in which the reuse of captured pieces is allowed just as shogi. Although not all of those attempts are successful (and not all of them are fun to play), it is great to know that there are people who are trying to keep these great games alive. I believe their pursuit for new possibilities also helps revitalize the traditional styles of the games.

You Can't Compare Apples and Plates... or Can You?

* This was originally posted on my old blog on December 5, 2010.
* 筆者の以前のブログに2010年12月5日付で投稿された記事の再掲です。

Today's post is about a topic that recently provoked some controversy in some Japanese internet communities.

In an arithmetic class for second graders of an elementary school, the pupils were given a problem like this: "There are 3 apples on each plate. If there are 5 plates, how many apples are there altogether?" One pupil wrote his or her answer on the examination paper as below.

Formula: 5x3 = 15
Answer: 15 apples

The answer is correct, of course, but the pupil did not get any points because the teacher decided that the formula was inadequate. Usually, in Japan, teachers tell their pupils to interpret multiplication as "groups" when they teach it to the children for the first time. For example, children are told to think 3x5 as "five groups of three."

3x5 = 3+3+3+3+3

In the case of 5x3, there are three groups of five.

5x3 = 5+5+5

(number in each group) x (number of groups) = (total number), this is multiplication. Yeah!

Let's take a look at the problem once again. "There are 3 apples on each plate. If there are 5 plates, how many apples are there altogether?" Here, the apples consist of groups of three each while each plate exists individually. Therefore, the formula must be 3x5 = 15, and cannot be 5x3. Most adults know the commutative rule of multiplication: AxB = BxA, but in this case, the pupils have not been taught this rule. Children at this educational stage are not supposed to know this yet, and some teachers feel uncomfortable when their pupils use something they have not taught them yet.

Mathematically, however, there is nothing wrong if teachers teach that the formula should be written in the order of "(number of groups) x (number in each group) = (total number)." There is no rule. I imagine many people from English speaking countries interpret multiplication in that way (eg, 3x5 = 5+5+5) considering that you often read "3x5 = 15" as "three TIMES five equals fifteen" verbally.

All things considered, the pupil above did not get any points on the examination not because of any mathematical mistakes, but only because s/he did not follow what the teacher said. People who are against this teacher think it was outrageous that the academic truth was prevailed by what was comfortable for the teacher. Even if the pupils have not been taught the commutative rule at school, some of them may have learned it by themselves. How can a teacher deny this intellectual curiosity of the children? Apparently, most mathematics researchers and scholars insist that the teacher should have considered the pupil's answer as entirely correct.

However, other people think that there are some practical reasons that teachers sometimes have to do such things. Some children in the first several grades of elementary school tend to ignore the context of math problems and just put all the numbers they see together using random mathematical symbols. For example, it is no surprise if some of those children answer that the total number of apples is 8 because they see 3 and 5 in the problem. If teachers tell their pupils that the order of the numbers in the formula does not matter and allow them to write either "5x3" or "3x5," it becomes very difficult to tell whether the children really understand the concept of interpreting multiplication as "groups of" or they just randomly connect 5 and 3 using the multiplication sign.

Let's imagine a hypothetical future. Many years from now, should I ever have a son, he might come to me and say, "Dad, I learned multiplication at school today!" Will there be anything I can do for him to make his understanding clearer? I'm going to give him this quiz: "There are 3 plates on each apple. If there are 5 apples, how many plates are there altogether?" I'll start practicing placing plates on top of an apple now.

Is Miso Soup Really a Soup?

* This was originally posted on my old blog on August 8, 2010.
* 筆者の以前のブログに2010年8月8日付で投稿された記事の再掲です。

I recently read about the origin of the word "soup". It looks like the word derives from the Vulgar Latin suppa, meaning "bread soaked in broth". Yes, the word shares the same root with "sop." That means the essence of soup was not originally in its liquid portion. Since then, the food has developed into various forms. Today, we can still enjoy many types of soup with bread, of course, but at the same time, it is often the case that bread as a part of soup is present only in a rudimentary form, such as a few croutons floating on top. In an extreme case, some types of consommé consist only of liquid and have nothing else inside.

Now, let's talk about miso soup. Miso soup is a traditional Japanese soup that is seasoned with miso (salty soybean paste). Or... at least that's what they say. Miso is considered as a kind of seasoning now, but originally, it was more of a food, something that itself was to be eaten. In fact, soybeans were a valuable source of protein for the Japanese people of the past, and miso was developed as a way of salt-curing the beans. Therefore, it is highly likely that the principal value of miso soup was not in solid ingredients but in the liquid portion containing a suspension of miso paste. However, in today's world, an increasing variety of solid ingredients can be put into miso soup.

In the field of evolutionary biology, there is a term "convergent evolution", which describes the acquisition of the same biological trait in unrelated lineages. For example, birds and bats independently evolved wings for powered flight. The term "cultural convergence" is also used in some fields of cultural studies, but the definition looks somewhat ambiguous to me. Some people seem to use it to mean the same thing as "globalization". While convergent evolution refers to two unrelated species that just randomly happen to develop similar traits, cultural convergence refers to two cultures which are affected by interacting with each other. However, in a very real sense, doesn't "cultural convergence" apply to something like the fact that most people consider miso soup as a type of soup? It is reasonable to call it a soup now as it is a delicious mixture of solid and liquid ingredients just like other soups in the world. But miso soup has developed independently, with quite a different origin from what was suppa in the past.