2007年7月30日 星期一

古賀守《葡萄酒的世界史》

古賀守的「葡萄酒的世界史」

分類:人物
2007/06/21 23:10

過去10年,在台北買的大陸書10倍於台灣的書。不過近來訂一規則:沒索引的漢文書,盡量少買。這一準則,果真有些遏止「濫買中文書」的惡習:因為如此要求下,幾乎無書可買。哈哈!

明目書社,有時會碰到朋友說某本書的著者或翻譯者,是他過去的「朋友」.....這樣,我買「葡萄酒的世界史」(天津:百花文藝,2007)。


其實,我有牛津大學出版社的 The Oxford Companion to Wine Edited by Janis Robinson(1994),也不是樂於此道人,只是因緣買了它。

其實,我還想買「簡明劍橋大學史」(山東畫報出版社),不過我知道這些都容易在網路找到。.....以上是我原想交差的。不料一讀之後,發現這本1975年的日文書(『ワインの世界史』中公新書(1975年),可真是不簡單!圖文並茂的好書。

我很訝異該書保持許多「品質」字眼,而不是採用「質量」--因為譯者汪平是中國人。

目錄

第一章 原始葡萄酒時代

第二章 舊葡萄酒時代

第三章 古典葡萄酒時代

第四章 新葡萄酒時代

第五章 現代葡萄酒時代

后記



我用作者古賀守一查,原來是台灣譯本投胎轉世的:《葡萄酒的世界史》(台北:玉山社出版事業股份有限公司,二○○四年)。令人傷心的是,我從網路知道作者已過世:古賀守 - Wikipedia

古賀守

出典: フリー百科事典『ウィキペディア(Wikipedia)』


古賀守(こがまもる)はワイン研究家。日本におけるドイツワインの権威。  1913年(大正2年)生~2003年(平成15年)4月28日死去(享年90歳)。佐世保生。生家は醸造家。東京農業大学 農芸化学科を卒業後、1936年から1945年ドイツ留学。ハイデルベルクロストック? 、ライプチッヒベルリン大学に学ぶ。メッセで日本代表としてゲッベルス宣伝相の隣に座った経験も持つ。ベルリンにてドイツの敗戦を体験、捕虜交換のシベリア鉄道で帰国後、故郷近郊から長崎の原爆雲を目撃、日本の終戦も経験する。一時、高校教諭を務めた後、カメラのライカ、医薬のメルクの日本輸入総代理店であったシュミット商会に入社、井上鐘(あつむ)社長の下、薬品部長から、初代ワイン部長となる。当初、主として、ライカファン、ドイツ留学経験者、医師 等ドイツ贔屓の顧客を対象にドイツワインの販売・振興に努める。

パレスホテルが日本最初の本格的ホテルワインセラー建設(1965年5月完成)に乗り出そうとしていた頃、パレスホテルに勤めていた、『ミスター・マティーニ』といわれたトップバーテンダー今井清、日本最初のソムリエで後にソムリエ協会初代会長となる浅田勝美と の知己を得た事を手がかりに、広くドイツワインの販売・振興を行い、飛躍的にドイツワインの知名度を上げていく。 しかし、本を出版するなどしてドイツワインの振興を図ろうとする古賀守の立場と、経営者である井上鐘との立場の違いから古賀は独立せざるを得なくなる。こ のシュミット商会退社事件は古賀の心に深い傷を残すこととなった。 その後、古賀はさらにドイツワインの振興に邁進し、遂にはドイツワインが輸入ワインの第一位となり、その功績を認められ、1984年にドイツ連邦共和国ヴァイツゼッカー大統領から、ドイツ連邦共和国功労勲章勲一等功労十字勲章(Bundesverdienstkreuz 1.Klasse)を受章した。 1979年には非営利団体『ドイツワインを楽しむ会』(後に東京ドイツワイン協会等)を設立、1985年ジエチレングリコール混入ワイン事件が起こるに際して『ドイツワイン安全推進協議会』(後に日本輸入ワイン協会)を設立して輸入ワインの品質の安定化に努めた。

日本ソムリエ協会の要職も勤めている。 口癖は「ワインは輪飲、話飲、和飲(意味を簡単に説明すると、ワインで輪になって文化を語り、世に貢献しよう。仲良くしよう。)」、「Bis Morgen(ビスモルゲン:また明日)」。心筋梗塞により逝去。遺志により、千葉大学医学部へ献体。蒐集書籍は母校の東京農業大学へ寄贈された。

参考文献

著作
  • 『ドイツワイン』柴田書店(1972年)
  • 『ワインの世界史』中公新書(1975年)
  • 『ドイツワイン物語楽しい銘柄のはなし』日貿出版社(1979年)
  • 『文化史のなかのドイツワイン』鎌倉書房(1982年)
  • 『ドイツワインの旅』創芸社(1983年)
  • 『優雅なるドイツのワイン』創芸社(1997年)
  • 『1945年ベルリン最後の日』日本ドイツワイン協会連合会編(2000年)
  • 『語るワイン飲むワイン』料理王国社(2000年)
  • 『フランス・ドイツワイン小咄』(福本秀子女史との共著)産調出版(2001年)
仮名にての伝記
  • 木下勝実『魅惑の杜のわいん小説ドイツワイン物語』近代文芸社(1995年)

壽司發達史 Sushi Books

職人


"壽司發達史" Sushi Books by Trevor Corson and Sasha

分類:book review
2007/06/11 13:48

" 春暮,捕來滿肚子魚子的鯽魚,刮鱗去鰓,清除內臟,填滿鹹鹽,然後在桶裡碼一層魚撒一層鹽,上面壓上大石頭。兩年後出桶,把鹽清洗掉,再和米飯一起醃,一 層米飯一層魚,上面壓上大石頭。醃上一年才熟成,急得俳人蕪村直想在那石頭上面題詩。吃的時候去掉臭不可聞的米飯,切成一片片,魚子部分呈橘黃色,煞是好 看,元祿年間(1688~1704)甚至有「天下第一珍味」之說。若做法演變,只熟成一、二日,米飯略微發酵而帶有酸味,可以和魚一起吃,這就是壽司的原 型。如今壽司的酸味是米飯中攙了醋,魚也不用鹽,越新鮮越好。"

"漢代劉熙解釋飲食,說「鮓」是以鹽米釀魚,熟而食之,日本正是把醃鯽魚的做法叫「熟鮓」。《齊民要術》中記載了具體的做法,雲貴一帶現在也還如法 炮製,可能這做法跟著種植水稻一起傳到了日本。侗族有一種習俗,生孩子的時候把鯉魚醃上,等到結婚時拿出來吃祝筵,有的竟貯藏四、五十年,形狀整然不散。 "

白居易(七律〈橋亭卯飲〉之後半):

就荷葉上包魚鮓,

當石渠中浸酒瓶;

生計悠悠身兀兀,

甘從妻喚作劉伶。

-魚鮓
【聯合報╱李長聲 2007/06/29】

Sushi Books by Trevor Corson and Sasha

Issenberg

Reviewed by JAY McINERNEY

Two histories trace the evolution of sushi, from fermented goo to fresh global delicacy.

紐約時報可以讀到第一章

***

這goo 是黏稠的東西 goo PhoneticPhoneticPhoneticPhoneticPhonetic
noun [U] INFORMAL
an unpleasantly sticky substance

(from Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary)

hc的舊作

2007/1/3 18:00(?)-19:50NHK看節目,才知道許多極品

寿司 sushi (-zushi in some compounds such asmakizushi)的要件。

我看的下半場,用類似順口溜(狂言)之方式說sushi之歷史。

測試 sushi 的方式,盡是些高科技,如用MRI 照「專家」與「一般人」壓握寿司的情況;用風洞(風速)測「魚與米」之「一體感」(黏合力);又用剪力機量「壓過vs 未壓」之寿司 的受力。當然還有化學、顯微之解釋&..

基本上,高品質的sushi要採用「古米」(舊米加醋;要壓(這是藝術節目中用感測器量「專家」與「一般人」的力量分布);魚等要「浸醬油等風化24-48小時」&&.

(Thanks to Hans.)

http://www.nhk.or.jp/winter /gtv/gtv_67.html

「寿司の魅力大研究スペシャル」

1月3日(水)総合 午後7:30〜8:45

 誰もが大好きな寿司。だが、「日本人は寿司のおいしさをわかってい
ない」という衝撃の事実! 最高級マグロに最高級の新米を使った寿司が、冷凍マグロに古米の寿 司に負けてしまうのはなぜか? ここにこそ、寿司を極上の一品にする職人の知恵と技術があった 。南国タイに伝わる寿司のルーツ「プラ・ソム」の味は? 全国に息づく郷土寿司に共通するワザとは? うまい寿司屋の見分け方は? など、寿司を味わいつ くす知恵満載のスペシャル版。

☆ルーツは南国タイの発酵食&&寿司のルーツとも言われるタイの伝 統食プラ・ソムは、淡水魚とご飯を発酵させた、酸っぱい魚料理 。琵琶湖周辺の鮒(ふな)寿司とも似ているが、この魚のうまみを引 き出す知恵こそが、寿司のおいしさの原点。江戸時代に 、発酵調味料・酢を使って「インスタント」においしさを追求した結 果が、職人の技となって伝わっていたのだ。その技とは 、米と魚にいかに「酢」をなじませるかにかかっていた。さて 、その方法とは?

☆ 郷土寿司に見る、うまさの理由&&握り寿司が生まれる前から全国 に伝わる郷土寿司。富山の鱒(ます)寿司や、香川のかんかん寿司な ど、不思議なことにさまざまな材料を使いながらも 、ある共通のワザが使われていた。それが「お酢」ならぬ、「押す 」。圧力をかけてご飯と魚を密着させることで、なんとご飯も魚もう まみ成分の量が大幅にアップする。一体なぜなのか?

☆職人の握りのワ ザ&&「究極のおいしさとは、ネタとシャリとの一 体感」という職人。しっかりとシャリを押し固めているにもかかわら ず、かんだとき口の中ではらりとほぐれる絶妙の握り方は 、どのようにして実現できるか。豪華ゲスト陣が、握り寿司に挑戦す る。 

ゲスト 中村玉緒、高橋英樹、柳沢慎吾、山瀬まみ

****

Raw

Nick Dewar

Reviewed by JAY McINERNEY
Published: June 10, 2007

When I first tried sushi in Tokyo in the fall of 1977, I thought of myself as an intrepid culinary adventurer who, if he survived the experience, would return to America to tell the incredible, unbelievable tale of the day he ate raw fish on rice balls. Someday, perhaps, I would tell my children. By the time I returned to the States two years later, I found sushi bars in Midtown Manhattan; within a few years, nigiri sushi became the signature forage of the Young Urban Professional. As for my children, they eat sushi three or four times a week. They developed a taste for it when they were living in Nashville, Tenn., which, though it lacks any convincing French or Italian restaurants, has several fine sushi bars. From very different perspectives, “The Zen of Fish,” by Trevor Corson, and “The Sushi Economy,” by Sasha Issenberg, attempt to account for the transformation of sushi from a provincial street snack to the international luxury cuisine of the 21st century.

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THE ZEN OF FISH

The Story of Sushi, From Samurai to Supermarket.

By Trevor Corson.

372 pp. HarperCollins Publishers. $24.95.

THE SUSHI ECONOMY

Globalization and the Making of a Modern Delicacy.

By Sasha Issenberg.

323 pp. Gotham Books. $26.

Related

First Chapter: ‘The Zen of Fish’ (June 10, 2007)

Although raw fish is generally the first thing we think of when we think of sushi, it didn’t start out that way. “The Japanese tradition of eating fresh raw fish has nothing to do with sushi,” Corson tells us. “Sushi began as a way of preserving old fish.” Rice farmers in Southeast Asia would pack fish in jars with cooked rice to preserve it. The fermented result tasted more like stinky cheese than like fresh hamachi; the Japanese, in adopting the strategy, gradually shortened the fermentation time, developing a fresher style of sushi that still relied on fermented rice for its distinctive sour taste. This fish, usually carp, was salted and pressed in rice under a stone. Sashimi, in the form of raw fish, was something else again, an aristocratic delicacy little known to the urban masses.

The eureka moment when fresh fish was first squished onto a ball of vinegared rice and eaten on the spot is lost to us, but it happened somewhere in Edo (soon to be Tokyo) during the 19th century. Some hungry soul got tired of waiting for his sushi to ferment. What we now think of as sushi — Edo-mae nigiri — was invented as fast food for laborers, served by outdoor vendors from small carts. Soy sauce was offered, probably to mimic the fermented fish taste of the earlier style. The Tokyo earthquake of 1923 leveled the city and dispersed many of the city’s sushi chefs, who took Tokyo-style nigiri sushi to other parts of the country.

In the mid-1960s a restaurant called Tokyo Kaikan opened one of the first sushi bars in Los Angeles. There, a chef named Ichiro Mashita, unable to find any fresh toro, started substituting creamy avocado for the fatty tuna belly, eventually coming up with the California roll, winning the eternal gratitude of my son Barrett and millions of other gaijin. Los Angeles was the beachhead for the sushi invasion, attracting many Japanese chefs eager to make their fortunes and to circumvent the grueling 10-year apprenticeship required in their homeland. Others followed Japan’s corporate envoys to New York during the boom years of the Japanese economy. In 1983, the New York Times restaurant critic, Mimi Sheraton, awarded four stars to Hatsuhana, a Midtown sushi den — the official imprimatur for the new cuisine.

Trevor Corson’s “Zen of Fish” bounces between Los Angeles and Japan, as he follows the trials of a recent class of the California Sushi Academy, founded in 1998 to train would-be American sushi chefs. It’s a clever narrative strategy — the reader learns the practice and history of sushi alongside the students. On the other hand, his decision to focus on the least promising student — a young woman who is squeamish about touching fish and is afraid of sharp knives — makes for a sometimes frustrating and pedestrian journey. Given Corson’s apparent mastery of Japanese and of original source material, one can only assume the samurai and Zen clichés result from the student’s limited point of view. (“Kate liked Toshi immediately. He was cheerful and stern at the same time, like a monk who was also a kung-fu warrior.”) The monk/warrior head of the academy, Toshi Sugiura, comes across as a colorful if enigmatic character, a profligate party boy and self-appointed guardian of sushi traditions. On the other hand, Corson’s portrait of the American students, as opposed to the glimpses we catch of the single Japanese acolyte, could be used to buttress the view that gaijin in general, and women in particular, don’t have the stuff to make it behind the sushi bar. But hey, somebody’s got to man the counter at all those sushi bars springing up in Oklahoma and Nebraska.

Fortunately, the classroom scenes are intercut with authoritative, often amusing, chapters on sushi history, marine biology and the physiognomy of taste. While the students hack away at mackerel, Corson serves up bite-size explanations of the invention of soy sauce, the sex life of red algae and the importance of umami, that mysterious fifth taste that underlies so much of Eastern cuisine. His chapter on rice, a subject that Americans take for granted, is itself worth the price of the book.

Corson’s chapter on the bluefin tuna is surprisingly brief. Sasha Issenberg, on the other hand, devotes most of “The Sushi Economy” to the bluefin, which he considers the totem animal of the global economy. “In few places,” Issenberg writes, “are the complex dynamics of globalization revealed as visibly as in the tuna’s journey from the sea to the sushi bar.”

Issenberg posits the bluefin tuna market and the sushi economy in general as an instance of good globalization, a theoretical counterpoint to the Slow Food movement, founded in 1986 to protest the opening of a McDonald’s in Rome; the resulting coalition promotes the virtues of regional cuisine and ingredients and “amounts to what some have labeled the culinary wing of the antiglobalization movement,” he writes. But the global sushi trade, as Issenberg portrays it, is a curiously old-fashioned market subject to the vagaries of nature and a complex network of personal relationships. “It is one of the last areas in which human beings remain hunter-gatherers.” Issenberg takes this argument pretty far. “Through sushi, we see that ... integrity does not need to come only from defending the tribal honor of terroir, but is to be uncovered in movement, as well. Conquering distance, geographical and cultural, can be a triumph of the liberal values of mobility and interdependence, empowering local communities instead of threatening them.” Environmentalists might take exception to this sunny characterization; wild bluefin stocks are not likely to survive our appetite for maguro, and the jets that transport their carcasses from Boston to Tokyo aren’t doing the ozone any good. Still, he’s got a good story to tell.

In 19th-century Tokyo, tuna was regarded as an inferior fish; the Japanese craving for the red flesh of bluefin and bigeye didn’t really develop until after the war. The growing appetite for bluefin, the most prized of the tuna, mirrored the growth of the Japanese economy, depleting wild stocks in the waters around Japan. Meantime, a Japan Airlines employee named Akira Okazaki was trying to find a way to fill the empty cargo holds of returning JAL flights, planes that had flown to North America full of Japanese manufactured and electronic goods. Not long after visiting Japan’s famous Tsukiji fish market and observing the high price paid for bluefin tuna, Okazaki learned that the fish were abundant in the Eastern Atlantic, where they were considered worthless. After convincing reluctant fishermen on Prince Edward Island to seek out bluefin, and after much trial and error with refrigeration, the first important auction of Canadian bluefin was held at Tsukiji on Aug. 14, 1972. By summer of 1974, 91 percent of outgoing cargo on JAL flights from Canada was bluefin bound for Tokyo.

“Sushi had started as a form of preservation,” Issenberg says, “but it was becoming precisely the opposite: a way of using the infrastructure of modernity to chaperone a delicate dish around the world.” Over the course of two decades, he writes, “the average price for bluefin tuna paid to Atlantic fisherman rose by 10,000 percent.” By the mid-’70s, according to Issenberg, a bluefin caught in the Atlantic on Sunday could be eaten for lunch in Tokyo on Wednesday. Which, conveniently enough, is about the exact amount of time it takes bluefin to develop optimal flavor and texture. “The Japanese have a nickname for bluefin — shibi,” Corson writes. “It means ‘four days.’ In the age before refrigeration, when someone caught a bluefin, he buried it in the ground for four days before eating it.”

Issenberg follows the tuna backward from the Tsukiji market to its sources in the North Atlantic, the Mediterranean and the South Pacific, stopping along the way at Gloucester, Mass., where the Rev. Sun Myung Moon entered the market; at Port Lincoln in South Australia, home of the Tunarama Festival and a thriving bluefin ranching industry; and at Japan’s Kinki University, a center of tuna breeding research. Often entertaining, his journey is at times painfully detailed and deliberate; it takes him two pages to describe the unloading of a single tuna from boat to dock, a passage that feels longer than the flight to Japan.

He recounts the journey of Nobu Matsuhisa, the world’s most famous sushi purveyor, from Japan to New York and London by way of Peru, Alaska and Los Angeles. And, more ominously he follows the sushi mogul Takamasa Ueno’s journeys from Hokkaido to Dalian, China. If the consumption of sushi is, as Issenberg proposes, a key indicator of modernization, a signifier of participation in the globalized economy, then it’s only a matter of time before China and India become major markets for bluefin tuna. “To eat sushi,” he writes, “is to display an access to advanced trade networks, of full engagement in world commerce.” The “Iron Chef” star Masaharu Morimoto is opening a place in Mumbai. When people start eating toro in Calcutta, Issenberg says, “India will make a successful claim to a Western ideal of modernity that no number of outsourced call centers can.” Whether the tuna breeding and ranching industries will be able to keep pace with the demand for the new international luxury cuisine after the inevitable collapse of the wild fishery is another story.

Jay McInerney’s most recent books are “The Good Life,” a novel, and “A Hedonist in the Cellar: Adventures in Wine.”

***

Weekend Beat: Writer tracks sushi from ocean to plate

07/07/2007

BY MARIE DOEZEMA, STAFF WRITER

The way Sasha Issenberg describes it, globalization sounds almost quaint. Research for his book, "The Sushi Economy," consisted of a culinary quest that brought him to 14 countries on five continents. In addition to tasting sushi that ranged from sublime to stomach-churning, Issenberg discovered a softer side of globalization--one that relies on human interaction and judgment rather than faceless corporate giants.

"I wanted to know where sushi came from. It was what I thought was this really modest journalist proposition in the beginning," Issenberg, 27, said during a recent interview in Tokyo. "I've been eating sushi my whole life, and I couldn't tell you which ocean a single piece of anything came from. I wanted basically to find out--where did this stuff come from, and how did it get to my plate?"

In the course of traipsing around the globe sampling raw fish--the idea of which is enough to make any sushi lover salivate--Issenberg quickly discovered his threshold for too much of a good thing. "When I was reporting the book I very consciously eliminated recreational sushi consumption," he says. "There were days, especially in Japan, where I had sushi twice before noon, and days where I was in places where I should be more excited to be eating the fish than I was, and I just couldn't muster any enthusiasm for it."

The thing that kept him going--through food poisoning in Anchorage and the worst sushi of his life in Argentina--was a curiosity about how things work.

"I have logistical curiosity. I inspect route maps in airline magazines with far more attention than anybody should, and I memorize subway lines for no particularly good reason," he says. "Not only did I not know what ocean it came from, I didn't know how long it had been out of the water, how it got there, if it had been fresh or frozen, if it had been treated at all. I didn't know anything. It struck me that we had this sort of huge disconnect, that we masked or laundered our lack of knowledge about sushi in this word 'fresh.'"

Sushi occupies a unique niche in a time of increasing interest in food health and safety. Why do consumers who pride themselves on buying free-range chickens, grass-fed beef and hormone-free milk spend so little time thinking about where their sushi comes from? It's all about the person behind the counter, Issenberg says. "If you know your chef, you don't need to know where your fish came from, because it came from your chef, and your chef is your intermediary with that world--your agent."

In the book, Issenberg follows fish around the globe--from Prince Edward Island to Narita, Texas to Madrid. He talks to tuna ranchers in Australia and spends time in the kitchen with superstar chef Nobu Matsuhisa. What he finds is a system much more intricate than the average sushi lover knows or even imagines.

Some might find the knowledge disconcerting, far removed from the simple tranquility of the sushi bar. For Issenberg, it's made raw fish even better. According to him, what lies behind the blond wood counters, shoji screens and ice-filled display cases is one of globalization's greatest success stories.

"What I wanted to do was tell a story about global food culture that challenged a lot of the prevailing myths about globalization, which is that when food culture or food business goes global that it has to become impersonal and lose its human element and local knowledge," he says.

"If you actually start looking at the connections that sustain a global business--whether they're connections of products, capital, services, labor or ideas--and you actually look at how those connections are made and maintained, you start to see what people think of as old-fashioned local practices that work even if they take place on a global scale."

The book opens with the story of Japan Airlines cargo manager Akira Okazaki, who in 1971 came up with the idea of using empty space on planes between North America and Japan to transport fish. At the time, there was little demand for bluefin tuna caught in Canada, and sports fishermen regularly sold the meat as cat food.

As unconventional as Okazaki's idea seemed, he knew he was onto something, and eventually--after several long, beer-swigging evenings--he talked a local fisherman into the plan.

"Globalization is more simple and more complex than people think it is. It's more simple because the natural relations that bind people don't essentially change when they're happening between countries," he says. "On the other hand, it's more complex because it's a more dynamic environment and the number of variables in any relationship or business transaction increase greatly."

While Issenberg tells an almost sweet story of globalization, he concedes its drawbacks. "There are environmental repercussions," he says. "If you want to have a carbon-footprint logic, yes, it's troublesome."

That said, Issenberg doesn't have much patience for the ethical merits of buy-local campaigns. "The idea that buying asparagus from somebody down the street is more virtuous than buying asparagus from Chile is really noxious to me," he says. "A lot of these globalization myths basically are these ideological narratives that people manufacture to make nativist claims. There are things you can't say in proper company unless you're saying them about food."

Issenberg is equally dismissive of the "authenticity myth," the notion that culinary traditions have pure origins that are debased by the flow of global commerce, people and ideas.

The much maligned California roll is a prime example of this, Issenberg says, describing its genesis in the 1960s as a natural way of adapting local tastes and resources--avocados--to Japanese cuisine.

"So are the Americans bastardizing Japanese food, are the Japanese bastardizing American food, or is there really no old authentic cuisine? In a global environment, everything is in flux."

Japanese cuisine--which for centuries has incorporated outside influences such as tempura from Portugal and ramen from China--reflects the inevitability of adaptation, Issenberg says. Finally, he can eat his sushi in peace.

"I no longer feel burdened by the expectations of purity or authenticity. I'd been raised to believe that California rolls were somehow an affront to the true sushi," he says. "That's a great weight that's been lifted from me."(IHT/Asahi: July 7,2007)


Sushi Books by Trevor Corson and...histories trace the evolution of sushi, from fermented goo to fresh...amp;.. 基本上,高品質的sushi要採用「古米」(舊米...《詳全文

Waiter, There’s Deer in My Sushi

Ko Sasaki for The New York Times

Chunks of raw tuna at Tsukiji, the famed fish market in Tokyo. The growing demand for sushi in countries like Russia and China and depleting tuna stocks are raising prices, and causing chefs to try other ingredients.

Published: June 25, 2007

TOKYO, June 24 — Sushi made with deer meat, anyone? How about a slice of raw horse on that rice?

These are some of the most extreme alternatives being considered by Japanese chefs as shortages of tuna threaten to remove it from Japan’s sushi menus — something as unthinkable here as baseball without hot dogs or Texas without barbecue.

In this seafood-crazed country, tuna is king. From maguro to otoro, the Japanese seem to have almost as many words for tuna and its edible parts as the French have names for cheese. So when global fishing bodies recently began lowering the limits on catches in the world’s rapidly depleting tuna fisheries, Japan fell into a national panic.

Nightly news programs ran in-depth reports of how higher prices were driving top-grade tuna off supermarket shelves and the revolving conveyer belts at sushi chain stores. At nicer restaurants, sushi chefs began experimenting with substitutes, from cheaper varieties of fish to terrestrial alternatives and even, heaven forbid, American sushi variations like avocado rolls.

“It’s like America running out of steak,” said Tadashi Yamagata, vice chairman of Japan’s national union of sushi chefs. “Sushi without tuna just would not be sushi.”

The problem is the growing appetite for sushi and sashimi outside Japan, not only in the United States but also in countries with new wealth, like Russia, South Korea and China. And the problem will not go away. Fishing experts say that the shortages and rising prices will only become more severe as the population of bluefin tuna — the big, slow-maturing type most favored in sushi — fails to keep up with worldwide demand.

Last year, dozens of nations responded by agreeing to reduce annual tuna catches in the eastern Atlantic and Mediterranean oceans by 20 percent in an effort to stabilize populations. But the decision only seemed to crystallize growing fears in Japan about tuna shortages, helping to push up prices of the three species of bluefin — northern, Pacific and southern — that are considered the best tuna to eat raw.

Since the start of last year, the average price of imported frozen northern and Pacific bluefin has risen more than a third, to $13 a pound, according to Japan’s Fisheries Agency.

Wholesalers say that competition from foreign fishing fleets and buyers has made the top-quality tuna increasingly hard to come by here. Tadashi Oono, who sells big red slabs of tuna from a stall in the sprawling Tsukiji fish market of Tokyo, said that three years ago, he routinely sold two or three top-grade bluefin every day. This year, he said, he sometimes finds only two or three tuna of that quality to sell in a month.

Some culinary enthusiasts say the anguish over tuna shortages may also reflect deeper anxieties in Japan about its recent economic decline, especially when compared with neighboring China.

After World War II, tuna became a symbol of the economic might that allowed Japan to dominate the buying of tuna on world markets from Boston to Cape Town. Japan now consumes about 60,000 tons a year of the three bluefin species, or more than three-quarters of the world’s annual catch, according to the Fisheries Agency.

But as more top-grade tuna ends up in other countries, there are concerns that Japan could one day lose its status as global tuna superpower.

“Fish that would have gone to Tokyo are now ending up in New York or Shanghai,” said Sasha Issenberg, the author of “The Sushi Economy” (Gotham, 2007). “This has been devastating to Japan’s national esteem.”

The tuna shortage is also having a more concrete effect on menus at Japanese sushi bars. Fukuzushi, a midpriced restaurant in a residential neighborhood in Tokyo, is having a tougher time finding high-quality fish at reasonable prices.

The restaurant’s owner, Shigekazu Ozoe, 56, said the current situation reminded him of the last time he had no tuna to sell — in 1973, during a scare over mercury poisoning in oceans when customers refused to buy it. At that time, he tried to find other red-colored substitutes like smoked deer meat and raw horse, a local delicacy in some parts of Japan.

“We tasted it, and horse sushi was pretty good,” he recalled. “It was soft, easy to bite off, had no smell.”

If worse comes to worst, he said, he could always try horse and deer again. The only drawback he remembered was customers objecting to red meat in the glass display case on the counter of his sushi bar.

“One customer pointed and said: ‘You have something four-legged in your fish case? That’s eerie!’ ”

So far, top sushi restaurants have avoided the shortages by paying top yen for premium bluefin caught off domestic ports like Ouma in northern Japan.

“The prices of top-name tuna like Ouma are already as high as they can go,” said Yosuke Imada, owner of Kyubey in the upscale Ginza district of Tokyo. “What will happen is that the prices of lower grades of tuna will rise to catch up.”

That prospect worries Mr. Yamagata of the union of sushi chefs.

Mr. Yamagata, 59, has been experimenting with more creative tuna alternatives at Miyakozushi, a restaurant catering to the business lunch crowd that has been in his family for four generations. He said his most successful substitutes were ideas he “reverse imported” from the United States, like smoked duck with mayonnaise and crushed daikon with sea urchin. He said he now made annual visits to sushi restaurants in New York and Washington for inspiration.

“We can learn from American sushi chefs,” Mr. Yamagata said. “Sushi has to evolve to keep up with the times.”

The Ape and the Sushi Master: Cultural Reflections by a Primatologist

{類人猿和壽司大師:一個靈長動物學家的文化反思} 上海科學技術出版社,2005

『サルとすし職人──<文化>と動物の行動学』
          フランス・ドゥ・ヴァール著纂、西田利貞・藤井留美訳、
          原書房、本体2,200

職人



CHAPTER ONE

The Ape and the Sushi Master
Cultural Reflections by a Primatologist
By FRANS DE WAAL
Basic Books

Read the Review


The Whole Animal


Childhood Talismans
and Excessive Fear
of Anthropomorphism


"Why do I tell you this little boy's story of medusas, rays, and sea monsters, nearly sixty years after the fact? Because it illustrates, I think, how a naturalist is created. A child comes to the edge of deep water with a mind prepared for wonder. He is given a compelling image that will serve in later life as a talisman, transmitting a powerful energy that directs the growth of experience and knowledge."
Edward O. Wilson, 1995


"Fear of the dangers of anthropomorphism has caused ethologists to neglect many interesting phenomena, and it has become apparent that they could afford a little disciplined indulgence."
Robert Hinde, 1982


Scientists are supposed to study animals in a totally objective fashion, similar to the way we inspect a rock or measure the circumference of a tree trunk. Emotions are not to interfere with the assessment. The animal-rights movement capitalizes on this perception, depicting scientists as devoid of compassion.

Some scientists have proudly broken with the mold. Roger Fouts, known for his work with language-trained chimpanzees, says in Next of Kin: "I had to break the first commandment of the behavioral sciences: Thou shalt not love thy research subject." Similarly, Jeffrey Masson and Susan McCarthy, in When Elephants Weep, make it seem that very few scientists appreciate the emotional lives of animals.

In reality, the image of the unloving and unfeeling scientist is a caricature, a straw man erected by those wishing to pat themselves on the back for having their hearts in the right place. Unfeeling scientists do exist, but the majority take great pleasure in their animals. If one reads the books of Konrad Lorenz, Robert Yerkes, Bernd Heinrich, Ken Norris, Jane Goodall, Cynthia Moss, Edward Wilson, and so on, it becomes impossible to maintain that animals are invariably studied with a cold, callous eye.

I have met many other scientists who may not write in the same popular style—and who may not dwell on their feelings, considering them irrelevant to their research—but for whom the frogs, budgerigars, cichlid fish, bats, or whatever animals they specialize in hold a deep attraction. How could it be otherwise? Can you really imagine a scientist going out every day to capture and mark wild prairie voles—getting bitten by the voles, stung by insects, drenched by rain—without some deeper motivation than the pursuit of scientific truth? Think of what it takes to study penguins on the pack ice of the Antarctic, or bonobos in hot and humid jungles overrun by armed rebels. Equally, researchers who study animals in captivity really need to like what they are doing. Care of their subjects is a round-the-clock business, and animals smell and produce waste—which some of my favorite animals don't mind hurling at you—something most of us hardly think about until we get visitors who hold their noses and try to escape as fast as they can.

I would turn the stereotype of the unfeeling scientist around and say that it is the rare investigator who is not at some level attached to the furry, feathered, or slippery creatures he or she works with. The maestro of observation, Konrad Lorenz, didn't believe one could effectively investigate an animal that one didn't love. Because our intuitive understanding of animals is based on human emotions and a sense of connection with animals, he wrote in The Foundations of Ethology (1981) that understanding seems quite separate from the methodology of the natural sciences. To marry intuitive insight with systematic data collection is both the challenge and the joy of the study of animal behavior.

Attraction to animals makes us forget the time spent watching them, and it sensitizes us to the tiniest details of behavior. The scientific mind uses the information thus gathered to formulate penetrating questions that lead to more precise research. But let us not forget that things did not start out with a scientific interest: the lifeblood of our science is a fascination with nature. This always comes first, usually early in life. Thus, Wilson's career as a naturalist began in Alabama, where as a boy—in an apparent attempt to show that not all human behavior is adaptive—he used his bare hands to pull poisonous snakes from the water. Lorenz opened his autobiographical notes for the Nobel Committee with "I consider early childhood events as most essential to a man's scientific and philosophical development." And Goodall first realized that she was born to watch animals when, at the age of five, she entered a chicken coop in the English countryside to find out how eggs were made.

Closeness to animals creates the desire to understand them, and not just a little piece of them, but the whole animal. It makes us wonder what goes on in their heads even though we fully realize that the answer can only be approximated. We employ all available weapons in this endeavor, including extrapolations from human behavior. Consequently, anthropomorphism is not only inevitable, it is a powerful tool. As summed up by Italian philosopher Emanuela Cenami Spada:


Anthropomorphism is a risk we must run, because we must refer to our own human experience in order to formulate questions about animal experience.... The only available "cure" is the continuous critique of our working definitions in order to provide more adequate answers to our questions, and to that embarrassing problem that animals present to us.


The "embarrassing problem" hinted at is, of course, that we see ourselves as distinct from other animals yet cannot deny the abundant similarities. There are basically two solutions to this problem. One is to downplay the similarities, saying that they are superficial or present only in our imagination. The second solution is to assume that similarities, especially among related species, are profound, reflecting a shared evolutionary past. According to the first position, anthropomorphism is to be avoided at all cost, whereas the second position sees anthropomorphism as a logical starting point when it comes to animals as close to us as apes.

Being a proponent of the second position creates a dilemma for an empiricist such as myself. I am not at all attracted to cheap projections onto animals, of the sort that people indulge who see eats as having shame (a very complex emotion), horses as taking pride in their performance, or gorillas as contemplating the afterlife. My first reaction is to ask for observables: things that can be measured. In this sense, I am a cold, skeptical scientist. With my team of students and technicians, I watch primates for hundreds of hours before a study is completed, entering codes of observed behavior into handheld computers. We also conduct experiments in which chimpanzees handle joysticks to select solutions to problems on a computer screen. Or we have monkeys operate an apparatus that allows them to pull food toward themselves, after which we see how willing they are to share the rewards with those who assisted them.

All of this research serves to produce evidence for or against certain assumptions. At the same time that I am committed to data collection, however, I argue for breathing space in relation to cognitive interpretations, don't mind drawing comparisons with human behavior, and wonder how and why anthropomorphism got such a bad name. Anthropomorphism has proven its value in the service of good, solid science. The widely applied vocabulary of animal behavior, such as "aggression," "fear," "dominance," "courtship," "play," "alarm," and "bonding," has been borrowed straight from language intended for human behavior. It is doubtful that scientists from outer space, with no shared background to guide their thinking, would ever have come up with such a rich and useful array of concepts to understand animals. To recognize these functional categories is the part of our job that comes without training and usually builds upon long-standing familiarity with pets, farm animals, birds, bugs, and other creatures.

In my own case it began with a love for aquatic life.


Zigzag through the Polder


Almost every Saturday when I was a boy, I jumped on my bike to go to the polder, a Dutch word for low-lying land reclaimed from the water. Bordering the Maas River, our polder was dissected by freshwater ditches full of salamanders, frogs, stickleback fish, young eels, and water insects. Carrying a crudely constructed net—a charcoal sieve attached to a broomstick—I would jump over ditches, occasionally sliding into them, to get to the best spots to catch what I wanted. I returned in a perilous zigzag, balancing a heavy bucket of water and animals in one hand while steering my bike with the other. Back home, I would release my booty in glass containers and tanks, adding plants and food, such as water fleas caught with a net made out of one of my mother's old stockings.

Initially, the mortality in my little underwater worlds was nothing to brag about. I learned only gradually that salamanders don't eat things that don't move, that big fish shouldn't be kept with little ones, and that overfeeding does more harm than good. I also became aware of the ferocious, sneaky predation by dragonfly larvae. My animals started to live longer. Then one day—I must have been around twelve—I noticed a dramatic color change in one of my sticklebacks in a neglected tank with unchecked algae growth. Within days, the fish turned from silvery to sky blue with a fiery red underbelly. A plain little fish had metamorphosed into a dazzling peacock! I was astonished and spent every free minute staring into the aquarium, which I didn't clean on the assumption that perhaps the fish liked it better that way.

This is how I first saw the famous courtship behavior of the three-spined stickleback. The two females in the tank grew heavy bellies full of roe, while the male built a nest out of plant material in the sand. He repeatedly interrupted his hard work by performing a little dance aimed at the females, which took place closer to the nest site each time. I did not understand everything that was going on, but I did notice that the females suddenly lost their eggs, whereupon the male started moving his fins rapidly (I later learned that his fanning served to create a current to send additional oxygen over the eggs). I ended up with a tank full of fry. It was an exhilarating experience, but one that I had to enjoy all by myself. Although my family tolerated my interests, they simply could not get excited about a bunch of tiny fish in one of my tanks.

I had a similar experience years later, when I was a biology student at the University of Nijmegen. In a welcome departure from the usual emphasis on physiology and molecular biology, one professor gave a lecture on ethology—the naturalistic study of animal behavior—featuring detailed drawings of the so-called zigzag dance of the stickleback. Because of the work of Niko Tinbergen, a Dutch zoologist, the stickleback's display had become a textbook example. The drawings of my professor were wonderful, showing the male pushing out his red belly, with spines pointing outward, then leading the female to the nest while performing abrupt back-and-forth movements in front of her. When I nudged my fellow students, excitedly telling them that I knew all this, that anyone could see it in a small aquarium at home, once again I met with blank stares. Why should they believe me, and what was the big deal about fish behavior, anyway? Didn't I know the future was in biochemistry?

A few years later, Tinbergen received a Nobel Prize: the stickleback had won! By that time, however, I had already moved to Groningen, a university where ethology was taken more seriously. I now study the behavior of monkeys and apes. This may seem incongruent given my early interests, but I have never had a fixation on a particular animal group. There simply weren't too many chimpanzees in the polder; otherwise I would have brought them home as well.

One thing bothered me as a student. In the 1960s, human behavior was totally off limits for the biologist. There was animal behavior, then there was a long time nothing, after which came human behavior as a totally separate category best left to a different group of scientists. This way we kept the peace, because the other scientists were—to borrow a concept from animal behavior—pretty territorial. Popular books by Desmond Morris (The Naked Ape) and Lorenz (On Aggression) were extremely controversial because they voiced continuity between human and animal behavior. If young students of animal behavior now look down upon these authors, seeing themselves as far more sophisticated, they forget how much they owe them for knocking down the walls well before the sociobiological revolution came along. I wasn't able to judge the scientific merit of their work then, but something about these ethologists felt absolutely right: they saw humans as animals. It is only in reading them that I realized that this was the way I had felt for as long as I could remember.


Pecking Orders in Oslo


It is hard to name a single discovery in animal behavior that has had a greater impact and enjoys wider name recognition than the "pecking order." Even if pecking is not exactly a human behavior, the term is ubiquitous in modern society. In speaking of the corporate pecking order, or the pecking order at the Vatican (with "primates" on top!), we acknowledge both inequalities and their ancient origins. We also slightly mock the structure, hinting that we, sophisticated human beings that we are, share a few things with domestic fowl.

The momentous discovery of rank orders in nature was made at the beginning of the twentieth century by a Norwegian boy, Thorleif Schjelderup-Ebbe, who fell in love with chickens at the tender age of six. He was so enthralled by these sociable birds that his mother bought him his own flock at a rented house outside of Oslo. Soon each bird had a name. By the age of ten, Thorleif was keeping detailed notebooks, which he maintained for many years. Apart from keeping track of how many eggs his chickens laid, and who pecked whom, he was particularly interested in exceptions to the hierarchy, so called "triangles," in which hen A is master over B, and B over C, but C over A. So, from the start, like a real scientist, he was interested in not only the regularities but also the irregularities of the rank order. The social organization that he discovered is now so obvious to us that we cannot imagine how anyone could have missed it, but no one had described it before.

The rest is history, as they say, but not a particularly pretty one. The irony is that the discoverer of the pecking order was himself a henpecked man. Thorleif the boy had a very domineering mother, and later in life he ran into major trouble with the very first woman professor of Norway. She supported him initially, but as an anatomist she had no real interest in his work.

After Sehjelderup-Ebbe received a degree in zoology, he published the chicken observations of his youth while coining the term Hackordnung, German for pecking order. His classic paper, which appeared in 1922, describes dominants as "despots" and demonstrates the elegance of hierarchical arrangements in which every individual has its place. Knowing the rank order among 12 hens, one knows the dominance relation in all 66 possible pairs of individuals, It is easy to see the incredible economy of description, and to understand the discoverer's obsession with triangles, which compromise this economy.

At about the time that the young zoologist wanted to continue his studies, however, a malicious but well-written piece in a student paper made fun of his professor. An enemy then spread the rumor that the anonymous piece had been written by Schjelderup-Ebbe, who was indeed a gifted writer. Even though the piece was actually written by Sigurd Hoel, later to become one of Norway's foremost novelists, irreparable damage had been done to the relationship with his professor. She withdrew all support and became an active foe. As a result of lifelong intrigues against him, Thorleif Schjelderup-Ebbe never obtained a Norwegian doctorate, and never received the recognition he deserved.

Regardless of this sad ending, the beginning of the story goes to show how a child who takes animals seriously, who considers them worthy of individual recognition, and who assumes that they are not randomly running around but, like us, lead orderly lives, can discover things that the greatest scientists have missed. This quality of the child, of unhesitatingly accepting kinship with animals, was remarked upon by Sigmund Freud:


Children show no trace of the arrogance which urges adult civilized men to draw a hard-and-fast line between their own nature and that of all other animals. Children have no scruples over allowing animals to rank as their full equals. Uninhibited as they are in the avowal of their bodily needs, they no doubt feel themselves more akin to animals than to their elders, who may well be a puzzle to them.


The intuitive connection children feel with animals can be a tremendous source of joy. The unconditional love received from pets, and the lack of artifice in the relationship, contrast sharply with the much trickier dealings with members of their own species. I had an animal friend like this when I was young; I still think fondly of the neighbors' big dog, who was often by my side, showing interest in everything I did or said. The child's closeness to animals is fed by adults with anthropomorphic animal stories, fairy tales, and animated movies. Thus, a bond is fostered with all living things that is critically examined only later in life. As explained by the late Paul Shepard, who like no one else reflected on humanity's place in nature:


Especially at the end of puberty, the end of innocence, we begin a lifelong work of differentiating ourselves from them [animals]. But this grows from an earlier, unbreakable foundation of contiguity. Alternatively, a rigorous insistence of ourselves simply as different denies the shared underpinnings and destroys a deeper sense of cohesion that sustains our sanity and keeps our world from disintegrating. Anthropomorphism binds our continuity with the rest of the natural world. It generates our desire to identify with them and learn their natural history, even though it is motivated by a fantasy that they are no different from ourselves.


In this last sentence, Shepard hints at a more mature anthropomorphism in which the human viewpoint is replaced, however imperfectly, by the animal's. As we shall see, it is precisely this "animalcentric" anthropomorphism that is not only acceptable but of great value in science.

(C) 2001 Frans de Waal All rights reserved. ISBN: 0-465-04175-2



April 8, 2001
Are You in Anthropodenial?
Frans de Waal portrays altruistic apes and magnanimous monkeys.


Related Link First Chapter: 'The Ape and the Sushi Master'
By DOUGLAS FOSTER


THE APE AND THE SUSHI MASTER
Cultural Reflections by a Primatologist.
By Frans de Waal.
Illustrated. 433 pp. New York:
Basic Books. $26.

After finishing Frans de Waal's engaging history of primate studies, ''The Ape and the Sushi Master,'' I wasn't surprised, a day later, to come across a Web site called ''Bush or Chimp?'' The juxtaposition of head shots of the new president alongside chimpanzees, in poses ranging from slack-jawed joviality to goofy hooting, plays off a timeworn joke.

The laughter depends on the underlying assumption that while apes may look like humans, akin even to the most powerful leader in the world, there still must be a quantum leap from them to us. But the laughter grows thinner by the year as one by one the supposed bellwether differences between apes and humans, like toolmaking, fall away. Chimpanzees use leaves as seats, as it turns out; they fashion a kind of footwear to protect themselves from thorns; they ''fish'' for termites with twigs and reeds they strip and cut for the occasion.

But surely culture itself remains impregnable, a fortress where the superiority of human beings, steeped in teaching, learning, language, art and cuisine, still resides. Let Bonzo try to get a table at Elaine's.

Now along comes one of the world's most distinguished primatologists, intent on breaching this last bastion of anthropocentrism. A professor of primate behavior at Emory University and the director of the Living Links Center, de Waal draws on more than 30 years of his own research among captive monkeys, bonobos and other chimpanzees, as well as on studies of wild primates by colleagues around the world, to poke ''a maximum number of holes in the nature/culture divide.''

Culture -- behavior learned from others -- was long vaunted as inimitably human. But de Waal points out how tired this presumption is. Monkeys teach their siblings how to wash sweet potatoes in the ocean; chimpanzee mothers show their young how to use stones to crack nuts; apes learn to medicate themselves with herbs. In 1999, an international survey of wild chimpanzees published in Nature described 39 distinct behavior patterns. In other words, separate communities of chimpanzees, even in the same environment, develop different social customs.

''The question whether animals have culture is a bit like whether chickens can fly,'' de Waal writes. ''Compared to an albatross or falcon, perhaps not, but chickens do have wings, they do flap them, and they do get up in the trees.'' He suggests that we'd learn far more by fully exploring the rich array of varied behaviors among nonhuman primates than continuing to quibble over categorical distinctions, a stance he chalks up to ''anthropodenial.''

De Waal shows how behavior among monkeys and apes depends heavily on social learning. He cites, for example, the research of a colleague who studied the responses of young monkeys when they were shown live snakes for the first time. These youngsters, raised in captivity, remained utterly unafraid of snakes -- until, that is, they were allowed to observe their parents, all born in the wild, reacting with fear. Ever after, the young monkeys expressed the fear they'd learned, not from any experience of their own but by emulating their elders.

In another study de Waal himself conducted, rhesus monkeys, which are characteristically combative, were placed with stump-tailed monkeys, a far more conciliatory species. The startling result was that the rhesus monkeys ''developed peacemaking skills on a par with those of their more tolerant counterparts.'' The rhesus monkeys, even after being segregated later, remained less quarrelsome than before their exposure to more peaceable cousins. So much for the unalloyed influence of physical prowess.

The current book builds on de Waal's four previous works -- Chimpanzee Politics,'' ''Peacemaking Among Primates,'' ''Good Natured'' and ''Bonobo.'' (In ''Bonobo,'' de Waal drew attention to the long-neglected simian whose female-dominated society and exuberant polymorphous sexual expression remain a source of fierce debate among scholars.) His own extensive research, on coalitions, conflict avoidance, mediation, reconciliation and consolation patterns among monkeys and apes, amounts to a career-long challenge to more traditional behaviorists fixated on male dominance and aggression.

De Waal names the big thinkers he is crossing. B. F. Skinner takes it on the chin for presenting animals as interchangeable. Freud and Lévi-Strauss get their lumps for posing a simplistic culture-versus-nature antagonism. Robert Ardrey is zinged for ''shoving the murderous side of chimpanzees into our faces.'' Well-known contemporaries of the ''selfish genes'' school get their comeuppance too.

By contrast, de Waal pays tribute to scores of other primatologists, particularly his Japanese contemporaries, for their painstaking, unblinkered chronicling of cultural differences among apes and monkeys. He also calls for a respectful revival of interest in long-eclipsed thinkers like Edward Westermarck and Kinji Imanishi, the pre-eminent Japanese primatologist and philosopher long denigrated in the West.

The author is no romantic contrarian, though. He's a hard-data biologist to the core. ''I am not at all attracted to cheap projections onto animals, of the sort that people indulge who see cats as having shame (a very complex emotion), horses as taking pride in their performance or gorillas as contemplating the afterlife,'' he points out a bit defensively. ''My first reaction is to ask for observables: things that can be measured.''

What's particularly bracing about this book is that this insistence on ''observables'' hasn't led de Waal to think small. His narrative, in the end, is a remarkable journey of discovery to the heart of a profound question: what can we learn about the evolution of our own cultures by studying the behavior of our primate cousins? He broaches the possibility that generous ''helping responses,'' observed among animals reliant on close-knit relationships, have evolved into something more refined -- authentically unselfish behavior. If he's right, this book is a step toward outlining the evolution of our own moral codes.

Not only does de Waal clear away layers of misconceptions in ''The Ape and the Sushi Master,'' but along the way he robs us of cheap laughs. ''Bush or Chimp?'' and ''The Chimp Channel'' just won't look the same after exposure to this deftly written, deeply reflective work.


Douglas Foster, an Alicia Patterson Foundation fellow, writes about politics and science.
  • サルとすし職人 <文化>と動物の行動学
    (フランス・ドゥ・ヴァール(Frans de Waal)著 西田利貞・藤井留美 訳 原書房 2200円 ISBN 4-562-03588-9 原題:The Ape and the Sushi Master : Cultural Refelections by a Primatologist, 2001)

  • 日本とは違い西洋では、動物と人間の間には断絶があり、動物には意識や文化など全く存在しないという意識が強いらしい。そのため、人間の本性の由来を動物 の内に探る、といった内容の本では、動物と人間との連続性についてかなりの紙幅が割かれる。この本も例外ではない。そのへんは正直言ってくどく、鬱陶しく なってくる。だが英語圏では必要なことだったのだろう。本書では、著者自身の日本人研究者との交流模様を含め、日本人研究者たちのエピソードや研究内容が 多数紹介される。著者の経歴を踏まえながらローレンツや西田利貞など毀誉褒貶激しい人たちの業績の再確認、そして日本人研究者たちが類人猿の研究ひいては 動物の<文化>の研究において果たした役割が、これまでにはない独特の形式で紹介され、同時に、ヒトの本性や、文化の起源について考えをめぐらすことので きる一冊となっている。 モノクロ口絵16ページ付き。

    「サルとすし職人」とは、京大霊長研の松沢哲郎と著者との雑談のなかから生まれたものらしい。すし屋の見習いは板前の動きを目で見て、学ぶ。チン パンジーもまた、群れの仲間の行動を見て学ぶことができるのではないか。つまり、文化的学習の代表例である「すし職人」と、サル(本当はape)との間に 関連があるのか、それはいったいどういう関係なのか。そういったことの隠喩なのだ。

    なお猿まねという言葉があるが、現在では「模倣」はかなり高度な行動だと考えられている。問題を把握し、手本となる相手の行動の目的や意図を理解し、その解決策をまねることが「模倣」であって、ただ単に似たような行動を行っても、それは模倣とは呼ばれない。

    動物の安易な擬人化は危険だ。だが逆に、あまり線を引きすぎて人間と人間以外の自然界との連続性に目がいかなくなってしまうのもまたおかし な話である。ドゥ・ヴァールはこれからは「動物中心の」擬人化、人間の視点を動物の視点に置き換える逆の擬人化(むしろ人間の擬動物化)が価値を持ってく るという。そしてその前提で動物行動を研究すべきだという。まあ簡単にいってしまえば、無理に目をつぶるのではなく、物事をもっと素直に見ようではないか といったところか。

    頭にも触れたがこの本の面白さは、ローレンツや今西の業績の再確認にある。一世代あるいは二世代前と違って、我々は彼らの仕事のインパク トをあまり知らない。ローレンツはナチの思想に荷担していたし、今西などは最近ではほとんど無視されるどころか、学問の進歩を遅らせた者とされることも多 い。ドゥ・ヴァールは彼らの業績をもう一度見直して、認めるべきところとそうでもないところを分かりやすく整理してみせる。それはもちろん彼自身のフィル ターを通したものなのだが、面白い。

    後半はボノボの話のみならず、ニホンザルのイモ洗い行動の話なども出てくる。この話は有名だが、いまや半ば伝説と化しているところもあり、実際にはどういったものだったか、知らない人も多いと思う。一読をすすめたい。

    後半ではもう一度、模倣という行動の意味や文化獲得の見方に対して考察がなされる。彼は模倣について、ある一つの見方を提案する。引用しよう。

    ……霊長類の社会的学習は、順応願望--社会に属し、なじみたいという衝動--に端を発しているのではないか。母親や同 年代の仲間など、特定の社会モデルが好まれていることを重視して、このプロセスに名前をつけるとすれば、「結びつきおよび同一化を基盤にした観察学習 (Bonding-and Identification-based Observational Learning)」、略してBIOLとでもなるだろうか。BIOLは、食べ物といった目に見える恩恵に頼らず、みんあのようになりたいという願望から生 まれる学習形態だ。社会モデルの模倣は、遊びの要素が入り、不完全で入門的な方になることが多く、見返りに結びつくかどうかは重要ではない。

    (中略)BIOLが持つ自己強化の特質は、ずっと見過ごされてきた。私たち人間は、成功した行動は強められるという効果の法則に縛られるあまり、 純粋に社会感情的な視点から模倣を見ることがなかなかできない。何にでも目的を探してしまい、見つからないとどこかがまちがっていると感じてしまう。仮に 模倣が、好きなモデルを熱心に見習おうという社会的な衝動から来ている行動だとしても、習慣やテクニックが集団全体に広がっていくという最終結果に変わり はない。

    218-219ページ

    文化というのは社会的な現象だ。習慣を文化として学習するためには他者の実例がまず必要で、それを模倣する、ただ模倣したいから模倣することで文化が発生する。あるいは、文化的学習が起こる。これが本書の主張だ。

    最後は道徳の話題だ。ドゥ・ヴァールは道徳性も進化の原理から外れたものではないとし、道徳だけを特別扱いする者を撫で切りにする。彼は道徳感情は もともと動物が他者と共感する能力を持ったときから本性として存在しているものだという。まあこのへんはやや色んな考え方があるんじゃなかろうか、という 気もするが、著者の主張にも一理あるかなと思う。

    ともあれ本書は、科学書好きならば色んなことを考えることができる良書である。読んで損はない。



    今西・伊谷記念霊長類学講義

      標記のシンポジウムを,2002年2月17日(午後1時半より5時まで),京都の芝蘭会館において,京都大学霊長類研究所が主催しておこなった。経費 は,平成13年度教育改善推進費によるものである。共催は,第2回比較認知科学国際シンポジウム(京都大学教育研究振興財団),日本動物心理学会,今西錦 司生誕百年記念世話人会だった。
      講演者は,フランス・ドゥ・ヴァール(リビング・リンクス,エモリー大学,米国)。講演題目は,「社会的認識に関する研究の興隆とその底流にある日本の霊長類学の影響」である。英文の題目は以下のとおりである。
        Imanishi-Itani Memorial Lecture for Primatology
        The Silent Invasion of Japanese Primatology and the Rise of Social Cognition
        Studies by Frans de Waal (Living Links, Emory Univ., USA)
      2002年は,故今西錦司博士の生誕百年にあたる。その百年の記念事業のさなかに,後継者のお一人である伊谷純一郎博士が逝去された。そこで,日本の 霊長類学を確立した今西錦司(1902-1992)と伊谷純一郎(1936-2001)両氏の先駆的業績を称えて,「今西・伊谷記念霊長類学講義」と題し た講演会をおこなうこととした。講演者のフランス・ドゥ・ヴァール博士は,チンパンジーをはじめとした霊長類の社会的知性の研究のパイオニアとして高名で ある。「政治をするサル」(平凡社),「仲直り戦術」(どうぶつ社),「利己的なサル,他人を思いやるサル」(草思社),「ヒトに最も近い類人猿ボノボ」 (TBSブリタニカ)といった本の著者としても一般に知られている。
      また,2001年に出版された近著"The Ape and the Sushi Master"は,人間以外の動物における文化を論じた書であり,かつ今西錦司ら日本の霊長類学者の先駆的業績を高く評価し,欧米に広く知らしめることに なった。ドゥ・ヴァール博士の記念講義に先立って,西田利貞による「チンパンジーの文化の謎」,松沢哲郎による「ヒトとチンパンジーとサルにおける文化的 伝播の差異」と題した関連講演がおこなわれた。いずれも英語の講演で通訳はなかった。また記念講義に先立って,今西錦司生誕百年記念事業の紹介がおこなわ れた。すなわち,京大総合博物館において,今西錦司生誕百年を記念した企画展が開催された。また,霊長類研究所のホームページ(http: //www.pri.kyoto-u.ac.jp )では,「伊谷純一郎アーカイヴス」と題して,故人が遺された霊長類学の草創期の貴重な画像・フィールド ノートなどを解説付きで公開している。参加者は約110名だった。
    (文責:松沢哲郎)

    『サルとすし職人──<文化>と動物の行動学』
              フランス・ドゥ・ヴァール著纂、西田利貞・藤井留美訳、
              原書房、本体2,200円

      ちょっと変わったタイトルですが、原題を見ると The Ape and The Sushi
     Master。動物にも「文化」がある、という主張のもとに、文化の起源につい
     て考察した本。

      もっとも日本人なら、動物にだってそりゃ「文化」はあるよ、と思うので
     は? しかし、本書でも触れられているとおり、西洋では「人間」と「それ
     以外の動物」は「文化」の有無によってきっちりと線引きされる、という視
     点が抜きがたくあるようです。

      著者ドゥ・ヴァールは、人間を中心とした動物観を批判し、動物が「模倣」
     を通じて文化を作る例をあげていきます。その代表例は、日本人が報告した
     幸島のニホンザルによるイモ洗い行動。タイトルに「すし職人」とあるのも、
     すし屋の見習いが、板前のまねを通じて、技術を身につけていくことを引き
     合いに出しているから。(この比喩は、チンパンジー研究者の松沢哲郎さん
     との会話の中で生まれたそうです。)

      そして著者は、日本人による類人猿研究者との交流を語り、その研究を紹
     介し、K.ローレンツや今西錦司の業績を再評価してみせます。さらには、
     文化の起源から、道徳の起源の起源にまで考察は進んでいきます。

      ──と紹介すると、ずいぶんテツガク的な本のようですが、チンパンジー
     やオランウータンはもちろん、モーツァルトの作品に影響を与えたというホ
     シムクドリ、狩猟技術を伝承するというクジラ、タイの動物園でトラを育て
     たイヌの話など、楽しく読める一冊です。

     ・原書房 http://www.harashobo.co.jp/

    2007年7月26日 星期四

    Late lensman captured Cambodia's smiles

    (c) Taizo Ichinose

    Apr. 7. to 10. 1972
    シェムリアップ
    砂袋の前で遊ぶ少女たち



    (c) Taizo Ichinose

    Apr. 14. 1972
    シェムリアップ
    プノンペンからの民族劇団の公演をもぞき見する子供たち




    c) Taizo Ichinose

    Jun. 23. 1973
    プノンペン避難民キャンプ


    (c) Taizo Ichinose

    Apr. 7. 1972
    シェムリアップ
    アンコール小学校の子供たち


    http://www.taizo.photographer.jp/works5.html


    Late lensman captured Cambodia's smiles

    07/26/2007

    In a family photo album, often there aren't very many pictures of the family's father, who more than likely was the person behind the camera snapping all the pictures.

    Still, photos often reveal much about what the photographer was feeling when snapping away.

    This was never more evident than in "Cambodia no kodomotachi" (Children in Cambodia), a book of photos published by Rengo Shuppan.

    Bright smiles adorn the faces of young people as they stand in front of scenes of nature and relics. In one photo, a young girl carries a bundle of banana leaves much bigger than she is. In another, a boy is riding a water buffalo. These are the works of the late photographer Shunsuke Endo, who visited Cambodia more than 20 times since 1999.

    The trust his subjects had in him pervades these photos like a fragrant aroma.

    Two noted war photographers, Kyoichi Sawada and Taizo Ichinose, both perished there. Endo, who covered the country in peacetime, died of leukemia in mid-July, three days after his first photo book was delivered to his sickbed.

    He was 29.

    His fiancee, Yuka Takase, met Endo last summer when they both joined a Cambodia study group.

    They became close friends. But soon after, his illness was diagnosed. The couple had hoped one day to be married in Cambodia. Together in his sickroom, they chose the photos that were included in the book.

    "He was never very good at keeping things orderly. There are still mountains of images he took. I like to think of them as our children, which I will nurture and one day display in an exhibition," Takase said.

    Endo wrote the book's epilogue.

    "I decided to commit myself to taking pictures of Cambodia, a country that is poor but full of smiles," he wrote. Now it has become Takase's job to ensure posterity sees his images of precious peace.

    On the last page of the book, there is a photo of Endo. He is pretending to be an airplane, surrounded by children. On the cover, we see the smiling hazel eyes of a young girl. Reflected in her glance is a tiny figure, focusing a Canon EOS camera in her direction.

    In the depths of children's soft and gentle memories in that foreign land, the image of Endo will remain forever.

    --The Asahi Shimbun, July 25 (IHT/Asahi: July 26,2007)











    2007年7月24日 星期二

    《食品政治》、《食品安全》:美英中一瞥(2004-07)

    《食品政治》、《食品安全》:美英中一瞥
    2004-12-02 09:55:00

    《食品政治》、《食品安全》:美英中一瞥

    大陸:百物變味變色
    《每週質量報告》:「變了味的海味」2004年11月28日CCTV
      一、提要:蝦米為什麼這樣紅/ 魚幹為什麼不招蟲/記者調查: 變了味的海味/違規加工不計後果/選購魚蝦專家支招/專家解讀:海味品加工亟待規範/
      二、記者調查:(變了味的海味)/主持人:共同打造有質量的生活,這裏是《每週質量報告》,大家好。
    http://www.xys.org/xys/ebooks/others/report/haiwei.txt


    鄭義:還有什麼可吃?——一場關於食物安全的網上討論
    http://www.epochtimes.com/b5/4/1/1/n440697.htm


    美國:兩本書中的一些現象。

    [美]瑪麗恩•內斯特爾《食品政治:響我們健康的食品行業》 劉文俊等譯,北京:社會科學文獻出版社(Food Politics: How the Food Industry Influences Nutrition and Health by M Nestle - University of California, Berkeley, CA, 2002)

    [美]瑪麗恩•內斯特爾《食品安全:令人震驚的食品行業真相》程池等譯,北京:社會科學文獻出版社(Safe Food: Bacteria, Biotechnology, and Bioterrorism by M Nestle, KOD Jensen )

    【翻譯評論(pp.1-4):大體不錯。原書斜體字未特別標示(例如美國過去法律之著眼點為animals(而不是人);凡人認為食品安全多為 politics(而不是人之健康)…….)。通常每段最後一句總結失真(兩句)。最後段將beef industry翻譯成「牛肉加工業」不當,因為該產業是由producers and processors組成,本書翻譯成「生產和加工」。少數漏譯:so small, so familiar, so voluntary】
    ---
    紐約時報
    EATING WELL
    Read Any Good Nutrition Labels Lately?
    By MARIAN BURROS/ December 1, 2004
    WHEN mandatory nutrition labeling for packaged foods became the law of the land in 1994, the government predicted that Americans would routinely use it and that it would improve their eating habits. Give the government credit for getting it half right. Even as the country gets fatter and fatter, people say they do look at the nutrition facts panel on packaged foods.

    *****
    英國:除了舉國抗肥胖症之外,希望食物都貼上紅或黃或綠色標簽。
    Shoppers want traffic light labels to show healthy food
    By Valerie Elliott, Consumer Editor/ November 26, 2004

    SHOPPERS want clear “traffic light” labels on food to help them choose healthy items, according to the Government’s food watchdog.
    Symbols to steer people away from junk food are being devised by the Food Standards Agency and will also eventually appear in TV adverts. It is part of the Government strategy to tackle obesity and improve diet.



    Editorial

    Is It Safe to Eat?

    Published: July 24, 2007

    President Bush took a potentially useful step last week, appointing a cabinet-level committee to find ways to ensure the safety of imported food and other products. But his actions would be a lot more credible if the administration had not been cutting the staff and budget of food safety programs at the Food and Drug Administration while also planning to eliminate half of the agency’s laboratories.

    Hearings before a House oversight subcommittee raised serious questions about the F.D.A.’s ability to protect the public against contaminated or adulterated foods. William Hubbard, a former top agency official who consults for a coalition of industry and consumer groups, told the committee that the F.D.A. has lost some 200 food scientists and 700 field inspectors over five years, exactly the wrong direction when food imports are skyrocketing. He also noted that the small budget increase the White House has proposed for food safety next year would be a decrease after accounting for inflation.

    As if that weren’t discouraging enough, the committee’s chief investigator described how porous the current safety shield is. Agency personnel, he said, inspect less than 1 percent of all imported foods and conduct laboratory analyses on only a tiny fraction of those. Overwhelmed entry reviewers at one field office have so many items to screen that they typically have less than 30 seconds to decide whether an import needs closer scrutiny. Importers also learn to game the system by sending goods to lax entry points or mislabeling them. And they are allowed to take possession of suspect goods and arrange testing by private laboratories whose work is often shoddy or driven by financial concerns.

    The F.D.A. insists that its plan to close 7 of the agency’s 13 laboratories will actually improve its capabilities, by allowing greater investment in modern equipment and training at the six remaining laboratories. That could conceivably be true, but the House investigator worries that there could be a tremendous loss of talent when laboratory analysts resign rather than be relocated. Congress and its research arm, the Government Accountability Office, will need to determine if this is a genuine move toward modernizing some aging laboratories, or a step that could further weaken the F.D.A.

    (法國等)浪漫主義時期的音樂與文學 數本書

    《法國浪漫主義時期的音樂與文學》 溫永紅譯 百花文藝出版社2005年7月出版

    《法国浪漫主义时期的音乐和文学》是法国作家雷翁·吉沙尔所作的一部具有影响力的专著,该书主要介绍了法国浪漫主义时期的音乐、文学,社会政治生活和哲学艺术观念,反映了法国大革命时期到19世纪中叶浪漫主义时期音乐与文学的互动关系,以及音乐在社会政治文化生活中的作用、社会及文化思潮对音乐艺术的影响;音乐对文学家和文学创作的影响,也展示了他们之间的合作,改变和影响作品的创作形式和思想内涵。
    该书由我院青年教师温永红翻译,是我所2000年度的所立翻译课题,经专家评审委员会审议,该课题目前已结项。根据专家建议译者目前正在积极联系出版事宜。2003 中央音樂學院音樂學研究所 ]
    On critics and criticism of dance
    Author(s): Diana Theodores
    First published in: New directions in dance, 1979
    法國浪漫主義時期的偉大作曲家赫克托·白遼士(Hector
    Berlioz,1803—1869)
    p.144 譫語病中神智不清時的胡言亂語。
    Divagations musicales de Samuel Bach

    Janus: The Papers of Roger Eliot Fry
    7, Stephane Mallarme, ' Divigations' (Charpentier: Paris, 1917). 8, Stephane Mallarme, 'Vers de Circonstance' (Nouvelle Revue Francaise: Paris, 1920) ...
    janus.lib.cam.ac.uk/db/node.xsp ? id=EAD%2FGBR%2F0272%2FPP%2FREF%2F9%2F7

    Mark Wallace: Haze
    This new collection of poems, essays, and divigations might be the essential Mark Wallace to date. Always the supreme contrastoic, Wallace gets us to ...

    The noun divagation has 2 meanings:

    Meaning #1: a message that departs from the main subject
    Synonyms: digression, aside, excursus, parenthesis

    Meaning #2: a turning aside (of your course or attention or concern)
    Synonyms: diversion, deviation, digression, deflection, deflexion

    divagation f gén pl rambling

    (from Dictionnaire Cambridge Klett Compact)


    是法國著名的文藝評論家雷翁‧吉沙爾所寫的一部具有影響力的

    早期比較研究專著,也是後來法國比較文學與音樂學研究者不可不讀和
    經常引用的一部論著,更為一般的讀者瞭解這一時期法國音樂文化的狀況提供了一本極具可讀性的著述。書中對法國大革命至1850年浪漫主義時期的音樂、文學氛圍,音樂在波瀾壯闊的社會政治生活中的作用,和社會及文化生活對音樂藝術的影響進行了詳細和廣泛地介紹;並讓我們清晰地看到:這一時期音樂與文學間,音樂家與文學家之間的密切互動關係,以及哲學藝術觀念對音樂的影響;最後本書通過對幾個生活在浪漫主義時期的大文學家與音樂相關的生活和創作的描述,向我們展現了他們對音樂的熱愛以及音樂對他們文學創作的豐富和影響。


      從法國大革命到19世紀中葉是法國社會生活最為動盪,政權的更替最為頻繁的時期之一。這一時期文學與音樂間的關係體現為"作家與音樂家間的聯繫是經常、友好甚至是親密的。最偉大的藝術家和詩人們在氣質、心靈和願望方面都有一致的地方"。"音樂啟發了霍夫曼的小說和小說中的人物。詩人們推崇帕格尼尼,哭悼馬利布蘭夫人……"這一時期,音樂創作和文學創作的靈感來源也有某些共同之處。無論是在音樂還是在文學中都有來自外國的影響:人人都爭讀司各特的小說譯本和霍夫曼的怪異故事;音樂家既從本國的文學、音樂中汲取營養,也從外國的文學、音樂中提取養分。某些偉大的外國作家如:維吉爾、歌德、莎士比亞不僅影響著法國的詩人,也影響著法國的音樂家(柏遼茲的《浮士德的責罰》、《羅密歐與茱麗葉》、《特洛伊人》)。柏遼茲受莎士比亞和貝多芬的影響一樣大。此外,19世紀的法國尤其是巴黎是歐洲文化的中心,有一些當時在法國生活過或同法國文學家交往甚密的外國音樂家如李斯特,蕭邦等人的藝術創作也對法國音樂產生過相當的影響。在他們的身邊,在他們與親密的朋友結成的密友圈中"保持著對莫札特、貝多芬、舒伯特作品的崇敬,傳承著對偉大藝術的愛和偉大的藝術傳統"。

      不過,此時的法國文學舞臺上雖然是群星璀璨、文學大家層出不窮,而這一時期在法國真正的音樂革命並沒有到來,法國浪漫主義時期的音樂創作雖然豐富多彩,但略顯膚淺和空洞;除了在柏遼茲的作品中我們能看到一個浪漫主義作曲家兼詩人的靈魂、夢想、痛苦、熱情和幻覺外,在大多數法國浪漫主義作曲家作品中我們只可能看到浪漫主義的浮華外殼。在這一時期法國的音樂創作中缺乏像雨果和巴爾扎克一樣的巨匠,以及拉馬丁和維尼一樣充滿浪漫主義精神的詩人,也鮮有波德賴爾。法國真正的音樂革命可能還要再晚些時候,要等到德彪西和拉威爾等人的出現。本書作者毫不諱言道:法國浪漫主義時期的音樂不僅無法同德國的浪漫主義音樂相比,而且不能同法國文壇上的浪漫主義同日而語。

      本書的作者閱讀了1789至1850年間有關文學與音樂的大量史料:包括一般性的研究和專題性的研究,也認真閱讀了這一時期的回憶錄、通信集、雜誌、報紙等。其材料的豐富性令人印象深刻。作者利用自己掌握的大量材料,對當時音樂生活的多個方面進行了介紹,其中包括浪漫主義時期的音樂體裁,樂器和名演奏家以及這一時期最時髦的音樂體裁——歌劇和最時髦的社交生活場所——歌劇院。此外,這本著述不僅像大多數此類著述一樣,注意到了文學對音樂家和音樂創作的影響;更談到了音樂對像巴爾扎克、司湯達、奈瓦爾、喬治‧桑等文學家和他們的文學創作的影響和豐富。尤其是對大文學家們與音樂有關的文學作品如:巴爾扎克的《康巴拉》、《馬西米拉‧多尼》,喬治‧桑的《康絮愛蘿》和《吹奏樂師》及創作過程進行了逐一的介紹。

      此外,本書另一個值得注意的特點是:書中的注釋非常詳細,注釋中不僅僅給出了各種引文、作品(小到某首歌曲)的出處和研究這一時代的各種重要的文章、文集,還補充了許多有趣的史料和觀點。也許本書的史料的確過於豐富,讓作者在正文中難以一一展示,但又割愛不下,作者把有些史料甚至還包括自己的評論也放到了注釋中,因此即使在注釋中仍有許多值得關注的東西。當然豐富的史料和注釋更主要是為後來的研究者進行查詢和進行深入研究提供了很好的幫助。

      對於本書的翻譯,譯者在翻譯過程中力求把《法國浪漫主義時期的音樂與文學》原作的寫作特點忠實呈現給讀者,使讀者在閱讀譯文時同樣也能體味到原作者優雅抒情、平實易懂的行文特點,瞭解到當時浪漫主義文學家及音樂家充滿熱情和詩意的靈魂。而對於文中較多的詩文,譯者雖盡力想傳達其詩意,但是明顯不能夠做到讓讀者滿意(甚至是讓譯者自己滿意),對詩歌的大部分翻譯譯者只能努力做到達意而已。最後要說的是,此書最早發表於1955年(而不是中譯版上的1995年),但在法國曾多次再版,本譯著依據的是1984年版。《法國浪漫主義時期的音樂與文學》出版時,本該有中譯本序或跋對這本書的版本和作者有所介紹,但由於譯者的懶惰,另外也確實因為譯者對有關雷翁‧吉莎爾的背景材料知之不多,造成了這一不足。但願譯者的這篇譯者述評能稍稍彌補一下缺少中譯本序的遺憾。






    讀點浪漫主義美術

    我們介紹過《法國浪漫主義時期的音樂與文學》(略讀《法國浪漫主義時期的音樂與文學》(溫永紅譯,天津,百花文藝出版社, 2005))

    視覺藝術領域,前兩本有翻譯:

    K. Clark, The Romantic Rebellion (1974) 台灣,我記得談論過,可是找不到【The Romantic Rebellion (1986 - 這是wiki的錯誤資訊,應為 The Romantic Rebellion (1974)雨芸譯,新竹:楓城文庫, 1978; H. Honour, Romanticism (1979) 【『浪漫主義藝術』袁憲軍 錢坤強合譯,上海:三聯,1992

    H. Honour Romanticism一書(上海版:編排採圖文分開處理是敗筆),用字(法文 -德文似乎少英譯) /用典等都比K. Clark 難得多。所以翻譯比較困難。我看第一章翻譯得還不錯,不過末篇Epilogue 結尾令人不敢恭維:

    (But while I pondered all these things, )and how men fight and lose the battle, and the thing that they fought for comes about in spite of their defeat, and when it comes turns out not to be what they meant, and other men have to fight for what they meant under another name-(-while I pondered all this, John Ball began to speak again in the same soft and dear voice with which he had left off.)

    H. Honour Romanticism一書第一章讓人許多想像: The pupils of whom David disapproved were the group of radical painters known as Barbus or Primitifs.


    這在其他地方有翻譯: The Legacy of Jacques-Louis David (1748–1825) | Special Topics ...
    ... known as the Primitifs (Primitives) or Barbus (Bearded Ones),
    待查下書是否談到它:D. F. Mayr and K. O. Mayr(2003 德文本) 『毛髮的故事』上海人民,2006

    當然,還有拿破崙看 Gros所畫的Battlefield of EYLAU ,當場就封畫家為男爵…… 等故事。(前幾天讀塞尚回答20問題,他最佩服的人是拿翁 …….


    1/6/06, hanching chung <hcsimonl@gmail.com > wrote:

    初讀,一嘆: William Vaughan 『浪漫主義藝術』

    我很欣賞遠流出版社的「藝術館 叢林」,不過偶爾讀一下舊書,難免一嘆(對於製作與譯作)

    ......

    我要談的是: William Vaughan / 『浪漫主義藝術 』(Romantic Art 李美蓉 譯,台北:遠流出版,1995


    這本書最可惜的是根據 1978年版本Romantic Art 翻譯,不過,在 1994年就已經有不同名字的修訂本。『浪漫主義與藝術』( Romanticism and art by W Vaughan - 1994 - London: Thames and Hudson-- Word from the Publisher


    In the age of revolutions, at the end of the eighteenth century, the mental and spiritual life of North America and Europe began to undergo a historic and irreversible change. The ideas of spontaneity, direct expression and natural feeling transformed the arts, encouraging artists to explore the extremes in human nature, from heroism to insanity and despair. Widely praised on its previous appearance as Romantic Art and now revised, William Vaughan's classic study analyzes the achievement of the leading artists of the age - masters such as Goya, Blake, Gericault, Turner and Delacroix - and sets in context a host of fascinating figures in painting, sculpture and architecture: Palmer, Runge, Soane, Gros, Overbeck, Schinkel, Flaxman, Pugin, Bingham and many more. The result is an invaluable account of a dramatic and contradictory artistic epoch.

    在網路上的作者簡介似乎忽視他最有影響力的一本書: German Romanticism and English art by W Vaughan - 1979 - New Haven: Published for the Paul Mellon Centre for Studies … 【威廉.沃思(William Vaughan),一九四三年生於利物浦,一九六一年進入牛津羅斯金藝術學校( Ruskin School of Art ),一九六二至六五年就讀於倫敦大學庫爾托藝術學院(Courtauld Institute of Art --參考blog "英國風" )。之後開始從事「英國藝術的德國樣式,1815-65」研究,並成為倫敦泰特畫廊的助理經營者,且於一九七二年策劃重要的德國浪漫主義繪畫大師霏特烈大展。一九七二年後,在倫敦的大學講授藝術史,尤其偏重英國與德國浪漫主義。現為柏克貝克學院( Birkbeck College)藝術史教授。除了本書之外,其著作尚包括《波特與多布森》 (Endymion Porter and William Dobson,1970) 與《威廉.布雷克》(William Blake,1977)等書,以及多篇有關透納與霏特烈的論文,和德國浪漫主義繪畫研究。】

    *******

    以下,我們根據網路上值得一讀的資料「《浪漫主義藝術》精彩內容」 http://www.ylib.com/search/qus_show.asp?BookNo=R1026 和紙本書,指出些翻譯上的小缺失:

    …….這當中,例如「海德堡」一作(圖4 ),它的浪漫特質已被哲學家謝林( Friedrichvon Schelling )在一七九六年的拜訪中提及:「這個城堡盤旋在城鎮上,完全支控著城鎮;而此增加了浪漫的要素。其背景的廢墟,就籠罩在陰沉的微光裏。


      古代的城堡因為這種召喚特質,而只有一種典型被留意。人們可以引述巨大的橡樹之浪漫分枝,怪異與浪漫的瀑布,或粗獷與浪漫的群山等諸如此類的例子。我們本身對此字眼的瞭解,對我們來說是相似的,且足以去想像在十八世紀時大多數被提到的浪漫景色的意味。只是偶爾它所指定的意味,才似乎是嚴肅的,如一七九二年由布爾茹瓦爵士( Sir Francis Bourgeois)於皇家藝術學院展出的《有鬼的浪漫景色》(Romantic Scene with Ghosts)畫作,即是一例。」
    William Vaughan
    / 浪漫主義藝術 』( Romantic Art 李美蓉 譯,台北:遠流出版, 1995p.9

    「不過,最重要的仍是盧梭對情感的呼籲;因為他宣稱人類的理性,若不伴隨著體諒之心,將因為感覺遲鈍而只能在無所收益的方式中活動。這樣的學說在上流社會中,導致許多無責任感想法的爆發;不過,它也提供一個適時朝向人道主義的激勵。例如,透過跟隨他的心之指示,使得偉大的改革者威爾伯福斯( William Wilberforce)一生致力於英國殖民地的廢止奴隸制度運動。」( p.14

    「透過跟隨他的心之指示」說法不通?

    ----

    「這就是斯特德曼( Stedman)船長那相當流行的《在奎亞那,五年遠征對抗令人嘔心的蘇里南黑人的故事》( Narrative of a Five Years' Expedition against the Revolted Negroes of Surinam, in Guiana, 1796 )。」(p.15

    "the Revolted Negroes of Surinam, in Guiana" 是「令人嘔心的蘇里南黑人」嗎?【為什麼不選「反乱[暴動](を起す) ; 反抗(する」?】

    ----

    「這樣的社會,建築師普金( A. W. N. Pugin, 181252 )在他那引起爭論的《對照》(圖89)就曾提出。且在這本書的第二版提及一八四 年的城鎮條件,是將之比擬為十五世紀的狀態。」( p.17

    讀此段,可知圖 9 1840 ,應該是 1440(年)。

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