2026 is well under way. January has blurred by, and as February approaches I am stunned to realize that I have two translations coming out next month.
First up is a title that has probably flown under the radar for many. The Ark by Haruo Yuki is a dark mystery about a group of university friends and one hapless family trapped in a bizarre underground building after an earthquake. Not only are they in danger of drowning as water floods the building with no way out, one of their group begins murdering the others for unfathomable reasons.
This one was, if I’m honest, very difficult to translate. Not on a technical level, but on an emotional one. Translation is an act of reading. The deepest kind of reading. As a translator, I try to wring every bit of nuance out of a book, plumb the depths of every reference, and to do that I have to read the book repeatedly. And this one is bleak. Almost nihilistic. But at the same time, it is a deeply clever book, and compelling in its exploration of how people behave in the most extreme of situations.
I think this one will appeal particularly to hard-core mystery fans. It comes out February 12, 2026 from Pushkin Vintage Press.
And later that month comes the long awaited Strange Buildings by Uketsu. This is his third novel, and the follow-up to Strange Houses. It is an entirely new story, but once again features “The Author” and Kurihara looking into secrets hidden within floor plans. This time, the chilling mystery spreads across Japan and goes into some of the darkest places imaginable.
It really feels like a bit step up for Uketsu as an author. More ambitious, more confident, and more skillful. If you liked either of his other books, you will LOVE Strange Buildings. But do be warned: it includes frank discussion of the exploitation of women and children, and heartbreaking descriptions of child abuse.
And, of course, I have not been sitting idle in the meantime. I have two more translations underway, with another two in contract negotiations. Keep your eye on this blog for updates!
Strange Pictures, my translation of 変な絵 by Uketsu, was published January 16 in both the United Kingdom and the United States. The two versions are the same translation but tweaked for local audiences a bit. Interestingly, the UK version is being marketed as a mystery, while the US is leaning more towards horror. Both are perfectly correct, because Uketsu calls himself a horror writer while clearly using mystery styles and tropes in the books.
The UK cover for Strange Pictures from Pushkin Vertigo
With the release of this book a bit behind us, I’d like to discuss a couple of issues that I dealt with in the translation. Before we go on, let me just say that some of these are spoilery, so PLEASE. If you haven’t read the book yet, save this post for after that.
US cover for Strange Pictures from HarperVia
**Spoilers for Strange Pictures Ahead! You have been warned!**
The first tricky issue that comes to mind when I look back on translating Strange Pictures deals with the second chapter, centered on young Konno Yuta. Within the story, Yuta is learning to write his name in Japanese characters, “kanji,” for the first time. That stirs a memory of seeing his mother’s gravestone, and he starts to draw that gravestone, but changes his mind and converts it to a picture of the apartment building where he lives now with his grandmother—his “mama.” That picture starts out with a large rectangle in which he begins to draw his family name in Japanese: 今野. A fellow student later tells the teacher she saw him draw “A triangle inside a rectangle.” Looking at the first character, of course, you can see the triangle at the top.
Now, how do do all this in English? Well, I kept the Japanese. Indeed, since the reader doesn’t need to READ the Japanese, only see the shape of the character, it seemed obvious. Particularly since the child wrote his name in crayon on the picture, so it’s already evident to readers. I’m hoping that it doesn’t confuse anyone. But we shall see!
The second issue was, well, trickier. It involves the name of a blog that comes up in the very first chapter, and gets a call back at the end. The blog in Japanese is 七篠レン こころの日記, Nanashi Ren kokoro no nikki. It translates to something like “Nanashi Ren’s Diary of the Heart.” The problem is the personal name: Nanashi Ren. This is both a pun, as “Nanashi” can also mean “No-name” AND it turns out very late in the book to be a little trick related to the core mystery.
The trick is complex and based on the fact that in Japanese, there are three writing systems. Kanji are Chinese characters, complex figures that can have both a meaning and a number of “readings,” meaning the pronunciation attached to them. Then there are hiragana, a phonetic system used to write out the readings of words, without the kanji there to carry extra meaning. Finally, there are katakana, a similar system to hiragana that is visually different and used for, well, various purposes to stand out from hiragana.
Hiragana themselves are made of up a few strokes that come together to form characters, but can also sometimes resemble other characters.
It works like this: In the original Japanese, the actual author of the blog is Konno Takeshi 今野武司、or こんのたけし in Hiragana. He creates a pseudonym by breaking the elements of those hiragana up into parts that resemble other hiragana or katakana, mixing them up, and making a new name to which he matches a kanji. There’s a diagram in the original that makes it easier to parse, but it’s super complex and OBVIOUSLY impossible to do in English.
I mean, to be honest, it barely works as a “trick” in Japanese. No one would ever figure it out without being told, because it’s just too complex and arbitrary. It also only fits part of the actual title in Japanese. It’s one of those things that seems incredibly clever after the fact, but nothing within the book itself could guide readers to it.
So, after hours, days, weeks of going back and forth over it, I finally decided with the editor at Pushkin, and Uketsu’s blessing, that we should just use an anagram. Then, having decided that, we couldn’t find any satisfactory anagram using Takeshi Konno. At which point, the editor at Harper Via chimed with with the idea of using some other Japanese name, and with Uketsu said OK. So, that’s how Nanashi Ren Kokoro no Nikki written by Konno Takeshi became Oh No, Not Raku! written by Haruto Konno.
There is a part of me that is almost embarrassed at the fact that, after having written and published one book, and having three translations published, with two more scheduled in the next year, I am JUST NOW realizing that hey, maybe I’m not just faking this? Maybe I’m in the book business?
I have been a reader since, well, ever. I think I started reading when I was five, and by the time I was in first grade I was burning through the library. Books were just… There. They were a fundamental building block of my identity. It’s not even something I consciously thought about, but hey. I love books and the reading (and purchasing, borrowing, lending, touching etc. thereof) about as much as anything I can think of.
And of course I always toyed with writing, the way a cat toys with a mouse that it never really intends to eat. “Someday, I shall pounce and then success will be mine!” I would think, while my prey sneaked away, limping but triumphant. Because, of course, writing takes perseverance and dedication and effort, and I sometimes fail to find those virtues in stock.
But now that I am not only someone whose name is on book covers, but someone whose name is familiar to PUBLISHERS and AUTHORS (a famous horror author just posted a pic of his ARC of Strange Pictures, with my name on the cover!!!), I think I can finally admit… This is something that I’ve wanted, without really knowing it, all my life.
I think I must have always wanted to be a book person. A writer, an editor, a guy in the biz. And I think that’s what I’ve got now. I’m visiting a book publisher and two international rights agencies in Tokyo at the end of the month. When I mentioned I would like to visit, they all said “Great! We’d love to meet! When?” rather than “Who are you again?”
The feeling of that. The—admittedly ego-centric, selfish, privileged, yes, I am so privileged and lucky but still—DAMN GOOD feeling of it is something else. I don’t deserve to have this good a life, but it’s here. So I guess I’ll live it.