In this interview, we sit down with Jim Rion, the translator of Uketsu’s Strange Pictures, to explore his experience bringing this haunting and intricately crafted novel to an English-speaking audience. Jim offers a unique perspective on the themes, challenges, and cultural nuances of Uketsu’s work, shedding light on the enigmatic author and the fascinating process of translation.
Overview of Strange Pictures
ET: I always like to start with a general overview of the work. Having read the book, I built my own perspective of Strange Pictures. But today, I would love to hear about your vision of the story. If you had to summarize the novel in three words, which would you choose and why? What are the themes that particularly spoke to you when you first read it? And has this vision evolved while you were translating it on the page?
JR: My three-word summary: eventually, all connects. What first jumped out to me about Uketsu’s work were the ways that all these different stories told in such disparate ways weave together to reveal one murderous life that played out in secret. So many vital things remain hidden in plain sight until nearly the very end, and key characters barely get mentioned in key scenes. So, as a mystery and horror fan, what really attracted me at first was the intricate way Uketsu built a compelling plot using all those different elements that seemed at first so unconnected.
But going deeper—and as a translator, I had to go very deep indeed—I began to be fascinated by the themes of motherhood, of what people call “maternal instinct” and the expectations that such ideas carry, and how they can become twisted into murderous intent. There is an almost religious undercurrent, as well, that is unusually subtle and sparks the imagination in interesting ways.
The Mystery of Uketsu’s Mask and Gender Fluidity
ET: One of the things, if not the first, that strikes us, readers, when we come across Uketsu is that they are masked. To me, it is striking because it is original and mysterious, but also possibly because it is implicitly a sign of wanting to keep gender fluid in Japan’s literary ecosystem. I am using the word “fluid,” or more generally “fluidity,” because I feel like that is precisely the writer’s goal here. Would you agree with that?
JR: I am not attempting to say anything definitive, but in general, Uketsu seems to identify as male. I understand that Pushkin verified with their Japanese counterparts that in publicity materials, “he” was the preferred pronoun. That is backed up by a few public mentions, as well. The song “Internet Writing Man” is ostensibly autobiographical, and an early introductory video at Omokoro has an editor refer to Uketsu as “that guy.” However, Uketsu clearly does not use an overtly masculine persona. In his videos, his gestures and speech are gentle in a way that veers away from aggressive masculine stereotypes. He does not use the clearly masculine pronouns like boku or ore, either. So, if you want to view the persona through the framework of gender, perhaps it is a representation of masculinity that allows for softness that traditional Japanese manhood does not necessarily allow.
In interviews, he has said the mask and bodysuit were intended to protect his privacy as a Youtuber, which is a common concern in Japan in general (hence the Vtuber phenomenon). In fact, I understand that even his publishers have never seen his face. Hiding one’s identity so thoroughly does, of course, also hide gender identity. But it’s not for me to speculate if that was a particular goal.
While I cannot speak to the writer’s intents regarding gender representation, there is a certain ambiguity to Uketsu’s presentation that is certainly open to wider interpretation. Despite the general consensus that the physical body behind the mask is male, many fans discuss Uketsu as female because of the high-pitched voice changer and the tendency toward feminine gestures in the videos.
That being said, rather than gender fluidity, it almost seems like the Uketsu persona has a kind of existential fluidity. The videos present a being that exists in seemingly multiple realities, with narrative videos that happen in our world, while the shorts and music are in a much more alien kind of world of teeth and unsettling meat and writhing tentacles. So, perhaps it is better to say that Uketsu is reality fluid, rather than gender fluid.
It is also probably good to remember that the thing about masks is, they don’t care what face they cover. More than one person can wear the same mask. More than one mask can have the same look.
Translating the Visual Elements of Strange Pictures
ET: Returning to translation, people often think about it as the professional field that allows the cultural trans-formation of a source text into another language, in which you have figures of speech that make the text more complex in terms of style. With Uketsu, these images translate not only in the text but also in the drawings that accompany it. How did you feel about having to translate these drawings? Did they require any additional efforts from you or were they valuable materials to help you understand Uketsu’s process of building his narrative?
JR: I definitely found the pictures a valuable and helpful element. Uketsu has been very clear in interviews that he wants all his writing to be accessible to as many readers as possible. The challenge is not in the language use, for example using unusual kanji, complex allegory, or obscure literary reference. The challenge is in the puzzles and the logical chains, and in the fundamental difficulty of understanding the dark urges that bring people to do the horrific things that happen in the books. The pictures, then, are meant to serve the readers both as aids and as prompts for speculation. And luckily, they did not require much textual interpretation.
Comparing Strange Pictures to Yokomizo Seishi’s The Devil’s Flute Murders
ET: How was translating Strange Pictures different from translating, for instance, Yokomizo Seishi’s The Devil’s Flute Murders?
JR: It was another experience entirely. The Devil’s Flute Murders came from a different era, a time of fading noble classes and wartime privation that ended long before I was born. The challenges of understanding that context well enough to convey it in English were immense. There were cultural references that even modern Japanese audiences didn’t get, so I had to consult literature experts just to figure out what was going on in some points. Strange Pictures, though, is very much a modern story, and one meant for a wide audience (my 11-year-old son, for example, read and loved it). So, nothing in it was particularly hard to grasp at a purely textual level. The challenges were more about ensuring that the intricately crafted logical threads linking the elements were preserved and conveyed.
Celebrating Strange Pictures with Sake Recommendations
ET: I read that you are a sake lover, specifically sake coming from the Yamaguchi prefecture. You write on your blog that you consider yourself a builder of “bridge[s] between the world and the sake brewers and ceramic artists of Yamaguchi.” As a fellow builder of cultural bridges, I am interested in whether you will celebrate the release of this fantastic translation by treating yourself to a nice glass of sake? Most importantly, which one makes you think of Uketsu’s work and which you would recommend to our readers today?
JR: I am, indeed, a sake drinker and a supporter of local craft! With a January release, I’ll have to treat myself to something warm and comforting like Kanenaka Kimoto Junmai. As for which sake most reminds me of Uketsu’s work, that would have to be the Ride? Black from Sakai Shuzo, which is full of unexpected surprises hidden behind a simple label. I don’t know what’s available locally to Japan Nakama readers, though, so reach out to your local sake retailer! (And thank you for the kind compliment.)
Book Recommendations from Jim Rion
ET: Finally, I would love to end the interview with a book recommendation. Would you mind telling us what you are currently reading? Which Japanese book would you recommend to Japan Nakama’s readers?
JR: The most difficult question of the interview! Oh no! Let’s see. In English, I’m in the middle of Never Whistle at Night, an anthology of horror stories by Native American authors, which is fantastic. I also just finished John Hornor Jacobs’s A Lush and Seething Hell, which collects two cosmic horror novellas and was amazing.
In Japanese, I’m pushing through a rather heavy horror book called Tenshi no Saezuri (The chirping of angels) by Kishi Yusuke about people who are cursed after eating forbidden monkey meat (??!?!!).
But you want recommendations! So, in English translation, let me recommend The Decagon House Murders by Ayatsuji Yukito, translated by Ho-ling Wong. It’s a truly classic Japanese murder mystery and Ho-ling did a stellar translation. In Japanese, if I’m recommending something that’s not Uketsu, it would have to be Kinki Chiho no Aru Basho ni Tsuite (About a certain place in the Kinki region) by an author using the pseudonym Sesuji. It’s a “mockumentary” horror book presented as a collection of real-life research about a certain mountain in western Japan which is the center of a large number of bizarre and troubling paranormal events. Very creepy, very interestingly structured.
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