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May 01, 2017

TABLO IN THE LITERARY WORLD: Korean/American Differences in Publishing Design

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

At first, it may seem that the act of translation is limited only to works in different languages. However, further examination of the actual art of translation explains how its definition can be broadened to mean simply the movement of a thought from one mode to another. In essays such as “The Task of the Translator” by Walter Benjamin, the discussion of translation is expanded to include not only the translator, but the audience—the consumers, whether they may be readers, graphic design observants, or simply longtime fans of the author themselves (and in our case, Tablo, who will be introduced shortly)—as well. Benjamin claims that “it never proves useful to take the audience into account” as “not only is every effort to relate art to a specific public or its representatives misleading, but the very concept of an ‘ideal’ audience is harmful in any discussion concerning the theory of art” (75). He explains that “a translation that aims to transmit something can transmit nothing other than a message—that is, something inessential” (75). However, what is one to do with Benjamin’s ideas if the author is also the translator, and has direct control over the birth of a new product from the original? Perhaps is there the possibility of mistranslation within the writer themselves? With writers like Samuel Beckett and Milan Kundera, the idea of an individual working as both author and translator is not an absolute rarity—perhaps uncommon, but not alien. In Pieces of You, Tablo, also known by his English name of Daniel Armand Lee, works as both the author and translator of his collection of short stories. By examining Tablo’s relationship with language and Korean and English editions of his book, we can more deeply understand Benjamin’s ideas about translation in the context of authors who are simultaneously nontraditionally their own translators, as well as examine how the process of translation can manifest not only in the linguistic translation, but also in editorial decisions.

 

Though Benjamin may disagree with the idea of being mindful of the audience during the process of translation, he leaves space for acknowledging the idea that “if translation were intended for the reader, then the original would also have to be intended for the reader” (75). In an interview done by allKpop, though discussing a different work called BloNote, but which also includes a Korean-English translation, Tablo seems to agree with Benjamin’s ideas about translation: “I wanted the English Edition to be more than just a translated book… to have its own vibe and its own reason for existing, so that my English-speaking fans could have something original and unique intended for them.” However, Tablo is attuned to his interaction with the readers from the very beginning, as he explains in the same interview that the book could serve as a gate for conversation, though he does not know where it will go, “to lead to an inspiration or an emotion or an assurance you were desperately searching for.” Benjamin’s claims suggest that a literary work could be created without the public in mind; rather, writers can write just for themselves, and perhaps have no regard for the reader at all. In contrast, Tablo does not represent the type of writer that Benjamin may have in mind. Instead, his editorial decisions reflect a lot of how he translates his work for a Korean and English-speaking audience.

 

One of Tablo’s first acts of differentiating the English and Korean editions of Pieces of You can be seen in the subject matter of the opening paragraphs. The English edition introduces the collection with a very personal, handwritten letter on the inside of the front cover, boasting poetic and intimate lines such as “through my love for writing, I discovered a world outside of the small windowless one I had built for myself” and “here I am, choosing to kick away the ladder so that I may remain at your side,” a line that implies Tablo’s personal investment in the reader’s life, even before they start reading, forging a connection with other individuals who may have also gone through periods of loneliness and depression. Tablo ends the letter with the simple phrases of “I understand your solitude. I see your shadow.” The brevity of these sentences establish a succinct, almost soft-spoken style that carries throughout the rest of the book. Tablo’s written aesthetic has a lot of short, clipped sentences to begin with, but the English edition feels much more vulnerable and raw than the Korean edition.

 

In comparison, the Korean version does not divulge such feelings from the start. Instead, it includes an extended autobiographical portion that states Tablo’s academic background, which include a BA in English Literature and MA in Creative Writing from Stanford University. Though a paraphrased version of his education can also be found in the English edition, the Korean edition simply explains Pieces of You’s origins in English and Tablo’s wish for his work not to get “lost in translation.” Instead of sharing his emotions, Tablo shares his aspirations, regarding his work and translations, with the Korean audience. His choice to include such a fact-based opening, rather than an emotional letter, could be more appreciated in Korean culture, as it is an uncommon characteristic for Korean individuals to share their darkness with others who they are not or should not be close with; it can be considered rude, even within the context of a book. The divergence of the Korean and English editions suggest the differences that Tablo sees and interprets in Korean and American cultures—the English edition is more vulnerable, while the Korean edition feels more “proper” and goal-oriented. Though not actually part of the fictive writing, his mode of self-presentation, the way he translates his self, slightly shifts when considering the audience for which he produces the book.

    

These contrasting tones, the English being a little more brooding and soft with the Korean being a little more fact-based and detached, can even be seen in elements like the cover design. The cover of the English edition is all black, with an orange embossment of the English title. The title’s Korean counterpart is embossed in black with the same material as the cover, almost hidden if the reader does not brush their fingers over the cover or hold the book up to the light to reveal the text’s difference in textures. The design is very minimal and takes up barely less than half of the cover’s surface area. The English design is much more unassuming, while the Korean one is a bright sky blue and contains design elements that look more inspired by brushstrokes—a nod to the pride in Hanja calligraphy. The Korean title alone takes about the same space as all of the elements of the English edition’s cover, roughly about half a page. The Korean cover also includes an English subtitle: “NOWHERE IN NEW YORK + 10 PIECES 1998-2001” and a larger graphic to represent Tablo’s authorship; Tablo’s actual name is the smallest text on the cover. Identity is important in claiming a work as your own, but the way Tablo’s name shows up on the Korean cover suggests the tendency for Korean’s value of humility and emphasis on the idea that one should not ask for more attention than necessary, whereas in America, identity is central.

    

Taking off the cover also reveals more about the differences between Tablo’s approach to Korean and English-speaking audiences. Removing the all-black dust jacket of the English edition only exposes an all-black cover that is not dissimilar from its outside appearance. On the other hand, removal of the Korean edition’s dust jacket reveals a cover that is completely taken up by a photograph of an unidentifiable blue, wooden door. Similarly to Japan, it is very common for citizens in Korea to remove the dust jacket from their books, as they might want to be more private about their book choice when reading on the subway or other public areas; they do not want to be misunderstood as pretentious, naughty, or other unwanted characteristics.

 

Furthermore, the Korean edition was offered only as a paperback, whereas the English edition only as a hardcover. Paperback books with rounded edges and spines are very popular in Korean bookstores, and ironically give off a “softer” image that offsets the Korean edition’s slight detachment—and some may even call blunt— from emotional writing. Additionally, the Korean edition includes crafty design elements, such as the look of burnt paper or taped polaroids on graph paper, and more photographs beyond just the cover’s blue door, while the English edition stays true to its monochromatic design, filled with black-and-white graphic illustrations. Inspirational and dramatic, the physical characteristics of the Korean edition are not unlike the qualities of Korean dramas and ballads, popular for their ability to tap into heartbreak. Though subtle, Tablo’s choice stems into the effect of Korea’s painful history—separation from families and loved ones caused by the split into North and South Korea, comfort women, etc.—under the surface of seemingly trivial matters like book cover design. While Tablo may not be catering to an exact feeling specifically about those historical and political issues, his attention to Korean authors’ and publishers’ tendencies to perhaps unconsciously lean toward certain design aesthetic and elements follows a pattern that shows consideration and respect for a facet of underlying emotions that Korean culture tends to hide.

    

Benjamin points out that there is the question of whether a work will “allow itself to be translated” (76). He also explains that “just as the tone and significance of great literary works are completely transformed over the centuries, the translator’s native language is also transformed” (78). What does this mean for Tablo, who is both author and translator? Tablo, who engaged in translation long before Pieces of You, started production with translation in mind to begin with—the stories were originally written in English, but the book was first published in Korean. Like his music, which often alternate between using Korean words and English phrases, the Table of Contents in the Korean edition lists his stories with both the Korean and English titles. From conception, Pieces of You was a translatable project. However, “kinship does not necessarily involve similarity,” as Tablo’s interview with allKpop showed that he was very conscious about his effort in differentiating the two editions (78). Benjamin claims that “the translator’s task is to find the intention toward the language into which the work is to be translated, on the basis of which an echo of the original is awakened in it” and that “[a translator] is never directed toward language as such, in its totality, but solely and immediately toward certain linguistic ways of structuring content” (79-80). In Tablo’s case, translation is a way to reflect his identification as a bilingual speaker, his dual identity in both Korean and American culture. Even before he created the English counterpart for the Korean, translation was an essential part to the meaning of the original work as a whole. Though the Korean and English editions take on slightly different tones and approaches—in both directions, such as towards the subject matter itself and audience itself—but the existence of one does not diminish the other. Both Korean and English editions are truth to Tablo; it is only a matter of turning a three-dimensional cube to observe its shape from another angle. Nonetheless, since a person can function as a vessel of translation, this idea can also open up the possibility of mistranslation within the speaker—Tablo’s translation of Korean culture as a Korean who spent a good time living abroad could vary greatly from that of a native Korean. Beyond the meaning behind editorial decisions such as book design and the Table of Contents, we can discover that in applying Benjamin’s ideas to the examination of Tablo’s work, translation is not just a tool of linguistic crossover, but of identifying culture and existing between the lines.

Works Cited

 

Benjamin, Walter. “The Task of the Translator.” The Translation Studies Reader, edited by Lawrence Venuti, Routledge, 3 July 2012, 75-83. Print.

 

Tablo. Pieces of You (Korean Edition). Translated by Daniel Armand Lee, Seoul: Dal Publishers. 7 November 2008. Print.

 

Tablo. Pieces of You (English Edition). Seoul: Dal Publishers, 10 February 2009. Print.

 

Tablo. “allkpop Interview: Tablo answers questions for his book ‘Blonote’!” Interview by allkpop. allkpop, 7 January 2017, http://www.allkpop.com/article/2017/01/allkpop-interview-tablo-answers-questions-for-his-book-blonote. Accessed 7 January 2017.

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