On a muggy Friday afternoon in early July, I am on my way to meet author Emi Yagi at her publisher’s office in Tokyo to discuss her new novel, When the Museum is Closed. The stifling mix of rain and humidity has rendered the Southern Californian in me useless, as I do not know whether to don a raincoat or shed myself of the sticky discomfort.
I wonder if this is the same uneasiness that Rika, protagonist of Yagi’s new novel, lives with daily. According to her, Japan’s rainy season (in June/July) “was a tough season for raincoat-wearers. The relentless humidity was made worse by the early summer heat, turning the inside of the coat into a miniature rainforest.” In this clammy moment, I feel her.
As I step into the air-conditioned office, I can almost hear my brain sputter back into motion. Emi Yagi walks in moments later, smiling, and I remember that I have the pleasure of interviewing her today as the translator of her second novel into English, after the successful Diary of a Void, translated by David Boyd and Lucy North—a hard act to follow. Yagi and I have met once before and chatted over email, but I’m eager to hear what swirls about in that endlessly imaginative mind of hers.
In this clammy moment, I feel her.
Should I have done this before I sat down to translate her novel? Or at least during the translation process? I wonder. But translators don’t always (get to) meet the authors they are translating; some prefer not to, saying everything they need is on the page. I know myself to be an easily intimidated person, and it was probably for the best that the only conversation I had throughout the translation process was with Rika, the narrator, and not necessarily with Emi Yagi, her creator. (Though the author is the least intimidating person you will ever meet.) Now that the translation is complete, I am dying to hear what went into the creation of this story. Why did Yagi center the novel on a young woman whose job is to converse with the marble Venus statue at the local museum?
Early on I’d wondered if the author was an art expert, and whether I needed to acquaint myself quickly with art museums in order to properly translate her story. But I learned that while she does enjoy museums, her inspiration came while riding an escalator in a department store, where she spotted a mannequin that was, shall we say, in between fittings. “I thought, if I could talk to that mannequin right now, what would it say back to me?” she said.
As a translator, I think often about how important it is (or isn’t) to know exactly where the characters are headed.
An idea had been planted. How would a nude statue speak, and in what language? Was their voice high or low? Venus, at least according to Yagi, has a huskier voice than you might expect. And she speaks Latin, of which Rika has a solid understanding. In fact, Rika has an easier time expressing herself in Latin than in her native Japanese.
I loved the premise of Museum as soon as I heard it. And as with her imaginative first novel, I was at the edge of my seat wondering how Yagi, who has now sent the story soaring, would be landing it. What does a woman who has lied to her entire office about being pregnant do as the weeks pass? And in this new novel, where does a socially awkward woman who finds herself falling for an immobile goddess made of marble…go?
As a translator, I think often about how important it is (or isn’t) to know exactly where the characters are headed. I’ve met translators who read the book closely and know the emotional arcs by heart before starting the work, as well as those who opt not to read beforehand, in order to keep the element of discovery alive as they translate. I’ve tried both.
I first read Museum when it was published in Japan in 2023 and was promptly taken by the voice of raincoat-donning Rika (the coat is a key element that I’m sorry I keep teasing), never dreaming that I might one day be asked to turn it into English. Enough time had passed when I began translating that I was able to hear her voice afresh, rediscover the layers of her anxiety.
What she might not know is that beneath all of that insecurity, she was a very confident guide, at least for the translator.
But I know she would disagree.