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Facing the Bridge
Amo, an African kidnapped to Europe as a boy, and Tamao, a Japanese exchange student in Germany, live in different countries but are being followed by the same shadow; Kazuko, a young professional tourist, is lured to Vietnam by a mysterious postcard; on the Canary Islands, a nameless translator battles a banana grove and a series of Saint Georges...
These three tales by master storyteller Yoko Tawada cross cultures and histories with a sensuous playfulness. In Facing the Bridge, obsession becomes delight as the reader is whisked into a world where identities flicker and shift in a never-ending balance.
These three tales by master storyteller Yoko Tawada cross cultures and histories with a sensuous playfulness. In Facing the Bridge, obsession becomes delight as the reader is whisked into a world where identities flicker and shift in a never-ending balance.
192 pages, Paperback
First published May 17, 2007
About the author
Yōko Tawada
127 books1,088 followersYōko Tawada (多和田葉子 Tawada Yōko, born March 23, 1960) is a Japanese writer currently living in Berlin, Germany. She writes in both Japanese and German.
Tawada was born in Tokyo, received her undergraduate education at Waseda University in 1982 with a major in Russian literature, then studied at Hamburg University where she received a master's degree in contemporary German literature. She received her doctorate in German literature at the University of Zurich. In 1987 she published Nur da wo du bist da ist nichts—Anata no iru tokoro dake nani mo nai (A Void Only Where You Are), a collection of poems in a German and Japanese bilingual edition.
Tawada's Missing Heels received the Gunzo Prize for New Writers in 1991, and The Bridegroom Was a Dog received the Akutagawa Prize in 1993. In 1999 she became writer-in-residence at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for four months. Her Suspect on the Night Train won the Tanizaki Prize and Ito Sei Literary Prize in 2003.
Tawada received the Adelbert von Chamisso Prize in 1996, a German award to foreign writers in recognition of their contribution to German culture, and the Goethe Medal in 2005.
(from Wikipedia)
Tawada was born in Tokyo, received her undergraduate education at Waseda University in 1982 with a major in Russian literature, then studied at Hamburg University where she received a master's degree in contemporary German literature. She received her doctorate in German literature at the University of Zurich. In 1987 she published Nur da wo du bist da ist nichts—Anata no iru tokoro dake nani mo nai (A Void Only Where You Are), a collection of poems in a German and Japanese bilingual edition.
Tawada's Missing Heels received the Gunzo Prize for New Writers in 1991, and The Bridegroom Was a Dog received the Akutagawa Prize in 1993. In 1999 she became writer-in-residence at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology for four months. Her Suspect on the Night Train won the Tanizaki Prize and Ito Sei Literary Prize in 2003.
Tawada received the Adelbert von Chamisso Prize in 1996, a German award to foreign writers in recognition of their contribution to German culture, and the Goethe Medal in 2005.
(from Wikipedia)
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Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews
May 31, 2026
3.75/5 stars
May 12, 2019
I enjoyed reading this collection of three short stories about travelers a lot: an abducted slave from Ghana transplanted to Europe (1700s) and a cynical (insecure) Japanese scholarship student in Germany (present) in "Shadow Man," a Japanese woman sightseeing in Vietnam who asserts she's "a member of the tourist race" in "Tran Tien Bridge"; and a translator who escapes to a friend's summer villa the Canary Islands for a solitary retreat where she explores the nature of translation and the author-translator relationship, while procrastinating the completion of her translation project.
All three stories ended ambiguosuly (really, that's where the story "ends"?) yet I enjoyed the reading experience all three provided.
3.5 stars, rounded down
All three stories ended ambiguosuly (really, that's where the story "ends"?) yet I enjoyed the reading experience all three provided.
3.5 stars, rounded down
October 20, 2024
Read as a group read for the J-lit GR forum: https://www.goodreads.com/group/show/...
The three stories in the book are:
The Shadow Man
In Front of the Trang Tien Bridge
St. George and the Translator
and
Translators Afterword
The last story is 4*s
Tawada is the first Japanese author that I have read, and was aware, that writes in both Japanese and German. I was wondering if the original language, Japanese or German, from the same author effected the quality of the end English translation. She has different translators for Japanese and German, which is understandable.
This is a reflection on the last story, Saint George and the Translator.
How is the end language different in complexity and readability? I feel sure in this piece, the author is playing with the sentence structures to emphasize the mutation of comprehension in translation.
So, I started with looking at the short story that I am currently reading. It is "Saint George and the Translator" from Facing the Bridge, as translated by Margaret Mitsutani.
After reading more of the short story, i am pretty sure the punctuation, or lack thereof, is intentional. How interesting…
The first full paragraph:
"Gripping my fountain pen as if it were a knife I looked out the window. Dark cacti protruded sporadically from the sandy slope stretching out before me for a distance that might have been far or near I couldn’t tell which before being swallowed up by ominous waves of banana trees with the sea beyond although there was no visible boundary to show where water turned into sky. The sea doesn’t ascend and gradually become sky nor are sea and sky like two countries that meet at the border; in fact they exist entirely independently of each other so it’s odd to regard them as two colors side by side as if looking at a landscape painting. It seems wherever you go the scenery appears exactly like a picture and I hate that. Furthermore as I didn’t come to the Canary Islands for sightseeing it was embarrassing to look out the window and find myself gazing at the ocean like a tourist."
When I looked at the English translation, I felt that it flowed but had lack of some breaks/pauses that would normally be served by commas for clarity and semicolons to break up independent clauses. I wonder if this reflects the nature of the original Japanese and showed intentionality to bring the flavor/flow to English. It is understandable but I would have used commas and semicolons as below for readability and comprehension. She is contrasting this to the work the the MC in the story is trying to translate. A part of that story is:
“… the sacrifices, everywhere, since old times have been, their sin is what, serious, though, to them, congenital, error, undoubtedly, they, not human, are, they, different are, this alone, a misdemeanor, as the gravest offense, is regarded, and, ultimately, only, to be wiped out, particularly, if not to be turned into real coins, agreements for the protection of species, even, cannot lend a hand, supposing, at that time, already, such agreements, existed, because, they, to whatever species, do not belong, their own species, do not have …”
With maybe normal punctuation, the first paragraph would be approximately:
"Gripping my fountain pen as if it were a knife, I looked out the window. Dark cacti protruded sporadically from the sandy slope stretching out before me for a distance that might have been far or near; I couldn’t tell which before being swallowed up by ominous waves of banana trees with the sea beyond, although there was no visible boundary to show where water turned into sky. The sea doesn’t ascend and gradually become sky, nor are sea and sky like two countries that meet at the border; in fact, they exist entirely independently of each other, so it’s odd to regard them as two colors side by side, as if looking at a landscape painting. It seems wherever you go, the scenery appears exactly like a picture, and I hate that. Furthermore, as I didn’t come to the Canary Islands for sightseeing, it was embarrassing to look out the window and find myself gazing at the ocean like a tourist."
It may be conscious choice in the punctuation to match better the flow in Japanese or my choices might be American/not English punctuation.
This is the most interesting short story, so far, as regards the nature of language and transmutation through translation.
I tried to bold the added punctuation but, I see, it isn't noticeable.
(The whole interplay with punctuation has been entertaining.)
Margaret Mitsutani writes, “The story “Saint George and the Translator” was originally called “The Wound in the Alphabet,” (Arufabetto no kizuguchi), which in turn is a translation of “Der Wunde Punkt im Alphabet,” the story by the German writer Anne Duden that the narrator of Tawada’s story is translating. To avoid confusion with Duden’s story, Tawada later changed the title to “Transplanting Letters” (Moji-ishoku). Nevertheless, the original title has interesting implications for Tawada’s text.”
Excerpts are from
Facing the Bridge
By Yoko Tawada
This material may be protected by copyright.
The three stories in the book are:
The Shadow Man
In Front of the Trang Tien Bridge
St. George and the Translator
and
Translators Afterword
The last story is 4*s
Tawada is the first Japanese author that I have read, and was aware, that writes in both Japanese and German. I was wondering if the original language, Japanese or German, from the same author effected the quality of the end English translation. She has different translators for Japanese and German, which is understandable.
This is a reflection on the last story, Saint George and the Translator.
How is the end language different in complexity and readability? I feel sure in this piece, the author is playing with the sentence structures to emphasize the mutation of comprehension in translation.
So, I started with looking at the short story that I am currently reading. It is "Saint George and the Translator" from Facing the Bridge, as translated by Margaret Mitsutani.
After reading more of the short story, i am pretty sure the punctuation, or lack thereof, is intentional. How interesting…
The first full paragraph:
"Gripping my fountain pen as if it were a knife I looked out the window. Dark cacti protruded sporadically from the sandy slope stretching out before me for a distance that might have been far or near I couldn’t tell which before being swallowed up by ominous waves of banana trees with the sea beyond although there was no visible boundary to show where water turned into sky. The sea doesn’t ascend and gradually become sky nor are sea and sky like two countries that meet at the border; in fact they exist entirely independently of each other so it’s odd to regard them as two colors side by side as if looking at a landscape painting. It seems wherever you go the scenery appears exactly like a picture and I hate that. Furthermore as I didn’t come to the Canary Islands for sightseeing it was embarrassing to look out the window and find myself gazing at the ocean like a tourist."
When I looked at the English translation, I felt that it flowed but had lack of some breaks/pauses that would normally be served by commas for clarity and semicolons to break up independent clauses. I wonder if this reflects the nature of the original Japanese and showed intentionality to bring the flavor/flow to English. It is understandable but I would have used commas and semicolons as below for readability and comprehension. She is contrasting this to the work the the MC in the story is trying to translate. A part of that story is:
“… the sacrifices, everywhere, since old times have been, their sin is what, serious, though, to them, congenital, error, undoubtedly, they, not human, are, they, different are, this alone, a misdemeanor, as the gravest offense, is regarded, and, ultimately, only, to be wiped out, particularly, if not to be turned into real coins, agreements for the protection of species, even, cannot lend a hand, supposing, at that time, already, such agreements, existed, because, they, to whatever species, do not belong, their own species, do not have …”
With maybe normal punctuation, the first paragraph would be approximately:
"Gripping my fountain pen as if it were a knife, I looked out the window. Dark cacti protruded sporadically from the sandy slope stretching out before me for a distance that might have been far or near; I couldn’t tell which before being swallowed up by ominous waves of banana trees with the sea beyond, although there was no visible boundary to show where water turned into sky. The sea doesn’t ascend and gradually become sky, nor are sea and sky like two countries that meet at the border; in fact, they exist entirely independently of each other, so it’s odd to regard them as two colors side by side, as if looking at a landscape painting. It seems wherever you go, the scenery appears exactly like a picture, and I hate that. Furthermore, as I didn’t come to the Canary Islands for sightseeing, it was embarrassing to look out the window and find myself gazing at the ocean like a tourist."
It may be conscious choice in the punctuation to match better the flow in Japanese or my choices might be American/not English punctuation.
This is the most interesting short story, so far, as regards the nature of language and transmutation through translation.
I tried to bold the added punctuation but, I see, it isn't noticeable.
(The whole interplay with punctuation has been entertaining.)
Margaret Mitsutani writes, “The story “Saint George and the Translator” was originally called “The Wound in the Alphabet,” (Arufabetto no kizuguchi), which in turn is a translation of “Der Wunde Punkt im Alphabet,” the story by the German writer Anne Duden that the narrator of Tawada’s story is translating. To avoid confusion with Duden’s story, Tawada later changed the title to “Transplanting Letters” (Moji-ishoku). Nevertheless, the original title has interesting implications for Tawada’s text.”
Excerpts are from
Facing the Bridge
By Yoko Tawada
This material may be protected by copyright.
March 15, 2019
I regret reading this book. No plot, just seemingly random thoughts wandering through the author's mind. The ostensible thread between these three pieces of writing (I would not call them "stories") is the unknown places where the characters find themselves, one involuntarily, one reluctantly, and one as a place of self-exile. The author creates a sense of discombulation very well. Other than that I find it a chore to finish.
The author has won many awards.
The author has won many awards.
August 19, 2018
I had a hard time connecting with these stories.
May 3, 2021
I really need to be in the right mood to read Tawada's books. This contained three short stories. I enjoyed reading all three, right until the end. They each seem not to end, but just to stop, without really saying or concluding anything. It is quite odd.
Anyway, for the first story, I feel like she could have explained a bit more why Amo decided to do what he did at the end. In fact, I wasn't sure why Tamao was acting the way he was half the time either.
In the second story, it seemed to be getting interesting, but abruptly ended (on a weird note).
The third story was somewhat engrossing, and probably had more symbolism than I could catch. Once again the ending was very odd to me.
Probably should have been a dnf, but I was curious about the last story since it was called "St. George and the Translator".
Anyway, for the first story, I feel like she could have explained a bit more why Amo decided to do what he did at the end. In fact, I wasn't sure why Tamao was acting the way he was half the time either.
In the second story, it seemed to be getting interesting, but abruptly ended (on a weird note).
The third story was somewhat engrossing, and probably had more symbolism than I could catch. Once again the ending was very odd to me.
Probably should have been a dnf, but I was curious about the last story since it was called "St. George and the Translator".
September 17, 2007
Absolutely amazing! This book is comprised of three short stories and seems to be the perfect marriage of her two previous books translated into English from The Japanese and The German. The way Tawada intertwines issues of race, history, alienation, sexuality, with fable, myth, humor, and absurdity is sheer brillance. Although I wanted to read this slowly I couldn't help rushing through it because I simply couldn't put it down.
The afterword, written by the translator is surprisingly interesting and also worth reading.
The afterword, written by the translator is surprisingly interesting and also worth reading.
January 7, 2026
From start to finish I literally couldn’t grasp what the book was actually telling me from the words I was reading and yet I still flew through it. The afterword helps give context. Book seems more of random musings than a structured beginning/middle/end narrative. The stories seem to just stop. For all that I didn’t quite grasp it until I finished still enjoyed it a lot.
February 3, 2019
These stories felt very lonely for me. We encountered people every day, bumped to some of them, conversed with a few, but we were all basically alone.
The "messy" writing style was probably ingenious, but it just didn't get along with my taste buds.
The "messy" writing style was probably ingenious, but it just didn't get along with my taste buds.
May 9, 2019
“Saint George and the Translator” is the gem of this collection, but overall the whole book is wonderfully strange and full of inventive metaphor and commentary. Tawada is a genius with an unmatched vision in the world of literature.
June 5, 2026
from The Shadow Man
17: At dinner, the pork and potatoes and green beans Tamao took from the silver platter in the center of the table rolled round on his plate like sunbathers on a beach.
37: One night, Amo dreamed about Professor Ludwig. The Professor looked like a doll kneaded from mud, and when the light struck him at certain angles, his face resembled that of different men. He didn't have eyes. Perhaps they still existed beneath the surface of his skin.
from In Front of Trang Tien Bridge
51: The paper inside, folded into a tight square, crackled like radio static when she forced it open.
64: It wasn't that she was merely determined not to buy anything—all the cheap trinkets were starting to look like cancer cells [...] What if she were just being silly, and it was, in fact, possible to create aesthetic harmony by attaching vinyl to bamboo, or metal to tofu?
71: Coconut milk is like fluid undulating deep in the inner ear as it picks up sounds from the outside.
from Saint George and the Translator
120-1: Even so I was at least being faithful to the unfamiliar texture of each word and I was beginning to think maybe this was more important for the time being. At least I created the sensation of throwing each word over to the other side with great care. Which was why the entire text was breaking into fragments but I simply didn't have the energy to think about the whole. The whole didn't even seem to matter. If translation meant "passing something over to the other side" then perhaps forgetting about the "whole" and starting out with fragments wasn't a bad idea. But then again translation might be something entirely different. Perhaps translation was something like metamorphosis. Both the words and the story were transformed into something entirely new. Then each word should casually line up on the page as if they always looked this way. I could never pull this off which must mean I was a lousy translator. At times the thought that I myself might turn into something else before the words did absolutely terrifying.
147: "If there's only translation then how can you tell it isn't the original?" "Oh you can tell right away. Because translation itself is something like a separate language. If the writing feels like pebbles falling down then you know it's a translation."
17: At dinner, the pork and potatoes and green beans Tamao took from the silver platter in the center of the table rolled round on his plate like sunbathers on a beach.
37: One night, Amo dreamed about Professor Ludwig. The Professor looked like a doll kneaded from mud, and when the light struck him at certain angles, his face resembled that of different men. He didn't have eyes. Perhaps they still existed beneath the surface of his skin.
from In Front of Trang Tien Bridge
51: The paper inside, folded into a tight square, crackled like radio static when she forced it open.
64: It wasn't that she was merely determined not to buy anything—all the cheap trinkets were starting to look like cancer cells [...] What if she were just being silly, and it was, in fact, possible to create aesthetic harmony by attaching vinyl to bamboo, or metal to tofu?
71: Coconut milk is like fluid undulating deep in the inner ear as it picks up sounds from the outside.
from Saint George and the Translator
120-1: Even so I was at least being faithful to the unfamiliar texture of each word and I was beginning to think maybe this was more important for the time being. At least I created the sensation of throwing each word over to the other side with great care. Which was why the entire text was breaking into fragments but I simply didn't have the energy to think about the whole. The whole didn't even seem to matter. If translation meant "passing something over to the other side" then perhaps forgetting about the "whole" and starting out with fragments wasn't a bad idea. But then again translation might be something entirely different. Perhaps translation was something like metamorphosis. Both the words and the story were transformed into something entirely new. Then each word should casually line up on the page as if they always looked this way. I could never pull this off which must mean I was a lousy translator. At times the thought that I myself might turn into something else before the words did absolutely terrifying.
147: "If there's only translation then how can you tell it isn't the original?" "Oh you can tell right away. Because translation itself is something like a separate language. If the writing feels like pebbles falling down then you know it's a translation."
July 27, 2024
Given the hate I read from the reviews I didn’t find this book difficult or not about anything. The travel metaphor is in each story and done well by the author. It was a good short book to read before diving into another book from my TBR.
June 8, 2025
I love Yoko Tawada, but these stories (with the possible exception of the interesting first one) read as though they were written quickly for the purpose of writing off travel expenses to various tourist destinations.
January 13, 2024
three intriguing stories that, for the attentive reader, seem to be interconnected. this is a practice in some of tawada's work that presents what are seemingly three separate stories; i'm thinking about THE BRIDEGROOM WAS A DOG, and, not surprisingly MEMOIRS OF A POLAR BEAR, which are clearly interlinked.
in this book, as in BRIDEGROOM, the connective tissue reads on a microscopic level - feels like there are elements of dna floating in each that gives the impression of deja vu, or memories buried that long to float to the surface.
regardless of this stylistic practice, tawada creates unforgettable characters that face situations unfamiliar for anyone living in the world that i live in. there's an element of fantasy, or in some cases, dystopian fiction (BRIDEGROOM and here in FACING THE BRIDGE) that establishes that the world we are entering is a lot like our own, but it has been tilted to bring certain things to light that we would otherwise miss.
she is becoming one of my favorite writers - definitely continuing to hunt down her books and read them all.
in this book, as in BRIDEGROOM, the connective tissue reads on a microscopic level - feels like there are elements of dna floating in each that gives the impression of deja vu, or memories buried that long to float to the surface.
regardless of this stylistic practice, tawada creates unforgettable characters that face situations unfamiliar for anyone living in the world that i live in. there's an element of fantasy, or in some cases, dystopian fiction (BRIDEGROOM and here in FACING THE BRIDGE) that establishes that the world we are entering is a lot like our own, but it has been tilted to bring certain things to light that we would otherwise miss.
she is becoming one of my favorite writers - definitely continuing to hunt down her books and read them all.
December 28, 2025
I think the last story was my favorite even though I’m very uncertain about what was happening for a good portion of the time.
February 8, 2026
guy who gets really into every retelling of st. george and the dragon and guilelessly reads the last story here
June 6, 2026
I liked The first story best- The Shadow Man- but found the last story- Saint George and the Translator- rather bizzare.,
July 21, 2008
Tawada describes the construction of a "tourist race" - Japanese trying to class themselves apart from other Asians, in order to approach Whiteness.
With the other two stories, I'm not sure what she's ultimately trying to say or whether it works.
With the other two stories, I'm not sure what she's ultimately trying to say or whether it works.
July 31, 2009
A peculiar book - very good, not Great, yet I got the rare feeling I often get with Gene Wolfe's fiction that there's a vital enigma in the work that I can barely make out the outlines of.
November 20, 2016
Tawada is an extremely gifted writer. Every single story I've read from her has been in a different style from different perspectives and each one is tremendously successful.
Read
November 21, 2018The story of Amo was better handled than a lot of writers might have done, but my favorite thing was the riff on Anne Duden.
Displaying 1 - 22 of 22 reviews