Glorious Mirrors
Learned Volume 5, Issue 23
This week: The simple kaleidoscope has an equally simple history that belies the impact it has had on cultures the world over. In fact, many languages simply borrow the word kaleidoscope for their own use. But not Japanese. Why? We get into it.
Kaleidoscopic
We often think of loan words as words that are borrowed wholesale from one language to another, usually to fill in some sort of gap, like how tsunami was imported to create a distinction between waves caused by gravity1 and waves caused by earthquakes.
This importation of words is especially common when a new invention is debuted. As when a couple of enterprising businessmen design a pair of denim trousers for miners and factory workers, the world was gifted the word jeans. Or when a German engineer created a type of rigid airship and zeppelin came into use as something more than a proper name. Or, perhaps most importantly, when a Japanese cultural phenomenon made its way overseas and a thousand karaoke2 bars exploded into life.
But it doesn't always happen that way. Not every new invention carries its native name to other countries. For example, what we English-speakers call a stapler is referred to in Japan as a hotchkiss after the company that first sold3 them there. In fact, a single new product can become a dizzying array of generic nouns as it makes its way around the world4. And most of the time, there's no predicting what word will catch on in which areas5.
Like how in Japan, the word kaleidoscope went through iteration after iteration until it eventually landed on a translation that breaks down as ten-thousand glorious mirrors, or, more simply, mangekyou.
Kaleidoscopes are big in Japan. They have been more-or-less since they were first invented around 1816. Even today, bookstores and hobby shops carry a wide-variety of kaleidoscope making kits, school children make them as part of their arts and crafts classes, and there are at least four6 kaleidoscope museums spread across the country. But why such a different name?
In modern Japanese, words from other languages are usually given a rough equivalency making them at least kind of recognizable to speakers of the originating language. Thus, English's rucksack becomes ryukkusaku and French's marché becomes marushe, among hundreds of others. Why then is kaleidoscope not rendered into Japanese as something like kalaidosukopu7?
In short: it's too old. See, back when the kaleidoscope was invented, Japan had yet to re-open after two centuries of isolation. Foreign goods were allowed in only under the strictest of conditions and when they were allowed in, they were "Japanized" as quickly as possible8. Kaleidoscope was no exception.
What strikes me about the modern word, mangekyou, is that it is so similar to kaleidoscope in literal meaning. What I mean is, kaleidoscope literally means beautiful forms, observed. Here's Wikipedia:
Coined by its Scottish inventor David Brewster, "kaleidoscope" is derived from the Ancient Greek word καλός (kalos), "beautiful, beauty", εἶδος (eidos), "that which is seen: form, shape" and σκοπέω (skopeō), "to look to, to examine",hence "observation of beautiful forms." It was first published in the patent that was granted on July 10, 1817.
And 万華鏡 (mangekyou9) breaks down into its components thusly:
万 - man - ten thousand
華 - ge - flower, petal, shining, glorious, beauty
鏡 - kyou - mirror
I have no idea if this was intentional. None of the sources I could find in a rough search specify whether the coining of mangekyou arose organically or through marketing10 but I suspect it might be six of one, half a dozen of the other. And, frankly, I really dig that. I like the idea that two people in very different locations and cultures could look at the same simple toy and come to similar names based on the beauty of the images it creates.
To close this week, let's play a game. Imagine you've just been handed the world's first kaleidoscope sans the name. Inventor Brewster says, "What shall we call it?" How would you answer? Make up a new word, borrow one from a different language, or simply stretch some existing words in interesting new ways and let me know in the comments: it's a tube full of mirrors, colors, and wonder. What shall we call it?
91 Days
Week 8 has been and gone; as you read this, I’m halfway through Week 9. It’s been an interesting project to say the least and, as I get ready for the last third, I’m thinking about the future and where I want to go from here.
Down the Rabbit Hole
It’s a short rabbit hole this week, but such a fun one. I randomly came across the Blackout Poetry Maker this week and have been having a swell time inputting my own writing from which to make blackout poems. And I figure it’s kind of cheating because part of the joy of a blackout poem is getting to use those markers so judiciously. But, on the other hand, there’s no paper being wasted this way. So, copy/paste your favorite text into the editor and go to work!
Ok, to make this more of a proper rabbit hole, here are the first five results when I googled, “best examples of blackout poetry online:”
From the Archives
In case you’re needing a refresher as to just what, exactly, poetry is, I’ve got you covered. Just about a year ago, I rounded-up a few of the best definitions and discussed them in Learned Volume 4, Issue 30:
Per the National Ocean Service: A tidal wave is a shallow water wave caused by the gravitational interactions between the Sun, Moon, and Earth.
One surprising difference is that Japanese karaoke is done in small, private rooms big enough for four to six people, out of sight and away from the crowds. When I tell my students about American-style karaoke bars, where you perform on stage in front of the crowd, the looks of dismay and horror are something to see.
Let's not even get into all the myriad and weird things branded products are called in other countries. Royale with cheese, indeed.
Just try ordering a popsicle anywhere other than the U.S. to see what I mean.
I'm speaking now of just generic nouns, brand names and marketing campaigns are a whole other thing.
That I know of.
I'm being disingenuous here; there are some products actually named after different variations on the word kaleidoscope and one artist, in particular, has created an entire movement around his Kaleido works.
This is one reason that some of the oldest Western words in Japanese have kanji attached to them while modern words do not.
If you're studying Japanese, be aware that each of these kanji have several pronunciations and I'm only including the relevant one to avoid confusing everyone, including myself.
Unfortunately, most of the really good Japanese etymology sources are locked behind paywalls or behind the actual walls of the library, which is presently closed.
"Colorful shards?"
In reference to your footnote 2, I commend to your horrified students the article in today's NYTimes about the Karaoke finals at the Illinois State Fair. Not only do the final 16 perform in front of many people, the winner then performs later the same night as an opening act for Brooks & Dunn in front of thousands of people!
That's it. I am using mangekyou instead of kaleidoscope now. Loaned words, loved the idea.