Hunan plans law requiring Mandarin of civil servants

China’s Hunan Province plans to introduce a law that would require all civil servants to speak Mandarin. Under this law, those who fail examinations in Mandarin would not be promoted and could even be “removed from their posts.” (Demoted? Fired?)

If the law is approved, the province will be the first to enforce such a law. The law was planned after the authorities received many complaints about civil servants with poor language skills.

source: Civil servants urged to brush up Mandarin, China Daily, January 13, 2006

books on Chinese-character etymologies

An acquaintance of mine who goes by the Net name of Dragonbones (because of his interest in Chinese oracle bones, of course) recently responded to a query on Forumosa on works on the history and background of Chinese characters.

I assume you want to read a non-scholarly introduction, in English. Unfortunately, many mass-marketed books on this topic (nicely produced coffee table books or cartoon-illustrated paperbacks) are full of erroneous general characterizations of the language, and the etymologies of individual characters are based on out-of-date works, failing to incorporate the last 100 years of scholarship and bronze and oracle bone research, or are cartoon-illustrated spin-ups of folk etymology, weaving enjoyable but VERY often inaccurate stories which seem suitable only ideal for teaching children, or for mnemonic purposes.

Other works, by expert paleographers, are too technical for the laity, and the best information on individual characters is scattered throughout hundreds of journal articles, conference papers or monographs, or expensive scholarly books in Chinese. As a result, it’s hard to recommend good books to you.

After praising The Chinese Language: Fact and Fantasy, which would also be my recommendation for the book to read first, he provides a list of other books:

  • for individual etymologies: 謝光輝 Xìe Guānghuī Ed., (1997). The Composition of Common Chinese Characters: An Illustrated Account
  • for an introduction to oracle bones: Keightley, David N. (1978). Sources of Shang History: The Oracle-Bone Inscriptions of Bronze Age China
  • early pottery inscriptions: Woon, Wee Lee (1987). Chinese Writing: Its Origin and Evolution
  • 裘錫圭 Qiú Xīguī (2000). Chinese Writing. Translation of 文字學概論 by Gilbert L. Mattos and Jerry Norman

Dragonbones also cautions against some works:

  • Harbaugh, Rick (1998). Chinese Characters: a Genealogy and Dictionary (This is the work that forms the basis of the popular Zhongwen.com Web site.)
  • 李乐毅 Lǐ Lèyì, Tracing the Roots of Chinese Characters: 500 Cases, 汉字演变五百例
  • Peng, Tan Huay (1980). Fun with Chinese Characters
  • Wáng Hóngyuán (1993). 漢字字源入門 The Origins of Chinese Characters
  • Wieger, Dr. L., S.J. (1927) Chinese Characters: Their Origin, Etymology, History, Classification and Signification
  • Wilder, G.D. & Ingram, J.H. (1974 reprint of 1934 2nd ed.) Analysis of Chinese Characters
  • anything by 許進雄 Xu Jìnxióng (James Chin-hsiung Hsu)

For comments on each of these works, see Dragonbones’ original post.

Also, Pinyin Info offers a number of readings related to this topic.

The ‘g’ in Ang Lee

Ang Lee (李安), the director of Brokeback Mountain, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, The Ice Storm, Sense and Sensibility, Eat Drink Man Woman, and many other films, was recently back here in his homeland of Taiwan.

I’ve long wondered how Lee ended up with such an odd form for the romanization of his name. I’m not referring to the spelling of his family name, Lee. Although the Anglicization of “Lee” for 李 is not standard in any of the main romanization systems, that particular spelling is almost certainly more common in Taiwan than “Li,” which is the form in most romanization systems other than Gwoyeu Romatzyh. In Gwoyeu Romatzyh, which nominally was Taiwan’s official romanization system until 1986 — long after Lee acquired a passport and had gone to the United States — is written Lii; but I’ve never seen that spelling used for a name here.

No, what puzzles me is the g in his given name of “Ang.” In Mandarin, this is one of those relatively rare syllables spelled the same in basically all of the main romanization systems: an. So where is that g from? (Please don’t read through the rest of this message in any kind of suspense, because I still don’t know the answer to that question, though I’m hoping one of my readers will.)

For those unfamiliar with Mandarin, Ang Lee’s given name is not originally pronounced like American English’s bang without the b or sang without the s. Rather, the a is similar to that in the English word father; the n is about as you’d expect; and there’s no g. So the name is pronounced something like the French (not English) version of Anne or the end of the German Autobahn.

The Ang spelling doesn’t appear to come from Taiwanese. Even in Taiwanese 安 would be romanized as an, not ang, in the dominant systems. (Correct me if I’m wrong, please. I know almost no Taiwanese.) Also, at the time Lee would have adopted the Ang spelling, the use of Taiwanese romanization for names would most certainly have been intensely frowned upon by the authorities if not forbidden outright. Moreover, I don’t think Lee is even ethnically Taiwanese/Hokkien.

Of course, he may have chosen to use a spelling other than what he was made to use on his passport. But people in Taiwan seldom do that unless they adopt an “English” name, which “Ang” is certainly not. The g might be there to help prevent people from thinking he’s a woman named Ann. But if that were the concern, why not simply adopt an English name?

Poagao, who met Ang Lee in Taipei last week, met back in September with Lee’s little brother, who’s known as Khan (or perhaps Kan) Lee. As Poagao notes, there’s something strange with that name, too:

One thing I’d like to know is why “Ang” gets an unneccesary ‘g’ (it should be “An”), while “Kan” is one ‘g’ short (it should be “Kang”). Did Ang steal his little brother’s ‘g’ at some point?

Ang Lee’s brother’s name is Lǐ Gǎng in Hanyu Pinyin. (Theoretically, it could also be Lǐ Gàng or Lǐ Gāng because 崗 is one of many Chinese characters with multiple pronunciations.) The use of k rather than g comes from the Wade-Giles romanization system. In Taiwan, most people’s passports have names romanized using improper, bastardized Wade-Giles, which helps create a lot of confusion — as if Wade-Giles itself weren’t confusing enough already. Moreover, Taiwan’s passport office operates on the principle of chabuduo jiu keyi, which in this context is a close approximation of the English saying “close enough for government work.” In other words, if a spelling looks more or less correct it will probably pass — unless, that is, it has Hanyu Pinyin’s x or q in it, in which case it would probably be rejected. (I’m not making this up. I’ve spoken with people in the passport office about this.)

In looking through Lee Ang’s biography I noticed that he has two sons, one of whom is named “Haan,” at least according to the Internet Movie Database’s credits for Pushing Hands, one of Lee’s early movies. At first, I thought this might be a two-syllable given name that had been run together: Ha’an (or Ha-an, following the style used in Taiwan). Could this be the same an as in Ang Lee’s name — just this time without the mysterious g? But it turns out that Haan is a one-syllable name.

Here’s the character: 涵.

A doubled vowel in romanized Mandarin usually indicates the use of Gwoyeu Romatzyh’s tonal spelling. But the “Haan” spelling would be for third tone, while Haan’s name should be pronounced with a second tone. (This would be written “Harn” in Gwoyeu Romatzyh.)

So perhaps the IMDB entry is a typo, and the real spelling should be Han, as expected. Or maybe those in the Lee family just like funny spellings.

Some say ‘no 3Q’ to Net slang in Chinese test

Internet slang and emoticons were included in the Chinese-language section of this year’s college-entrance exam for Taiwan, to the dismay and confusion of many.

Examples of this in the exam include

  • ::>_< ::
  • 3Q
  • Orz

::>_< :: is supposed to represent crying. (The colons are tears, the underscore is the mouth, and the others are the eyes.)

For "3Q," the three is pronounced san and the Q is pronounced as in English, yielding "san Q," which is meant to represent the English phrase "thank you."

"Orz" is intended to be a pictograph of a person bowing down on the floor, with the O as the head, the vertical line of the r as the arms, and the z as the legs.

This test is crucial to the lives of those seeking to enter post-secondary education. Many students spend years studying for this exam. The nation's parents, stressed-out from worry about how their children will do on this test, will probably go ballistic over this. I'll be surprised if those questions end up being counted toward the final score.

On the other hand, I can't help but think that given how much Classical Chinese is certain to be on the test, a few questions about modern Internet slang might not be inappropriate. After all, the latter is likely to have more relevance to the majority of today's college students and even possibly more a part of modern Mandarin than some parts of literary Sinitic.

sources:

Taiwan’s Chinese character of the year

For those who were disappointed with Japan’s choice of 愛 (ài in Mandarin — love) for the 2005 kanji of the year, there’s always Taiwan’s watered-down, copycat version, in which some 30,000 votes were registed on a Web site.

And the winner is

This character represents the Mandarin word xiā, which means “blind.”

Xia (瞎, the character meaning blind in Mandarin Chinese) beat sha (殺, kill), men (悶, frustration) and xian (鮮, fresh or weird) as the word of the year for 2005,” Liang Hsiang-yi (連祥一), deputy manager of yam.com, told a news conference.

Heavy and frequent use of the word “xia” to mean “reckless” by Taiwanese pop singer and teen idol Jay Chou’s (周杰倫) has meant the word “xia” has come to mean more than just “blind” among the nation’s young people.

“This shows many people are dissatisfied with the social and political chaos in Taiwan last year,” Liang said.

For me, the linguistically interesting part of this is the use of the word “chaos.” This is often the translation of Mandarin’s luàn (亂 / 乱). Luàn, however, can also mean “disorderly” and “messy,” which are the more appropriate translations in most instances.

A little more on the meanings that have come to be associated in Taiwan’s pop culture with xia:

「瞎」字泛指白目、無厘頭、亂搞等的意思,某種程度代表嘲諷與無奈,對照網友票選出來2005年度最「瞎」的幾個事件,則是由「王靜瑩家暴案」、「職棒打假球」、「王育誠腳尾飯事件」分別奪得前三名,顯見網友對去年發生的社會事件有霧裡看花、甚至被耍的無奈感受。

sources:

The state of translation in Korea

A new book with the provocative title of Are Translators Traitors? examines Korea’s translation situation and pronounces it “deplorable.” As a professor of Western history at Woosuk University, the author, Park Sang-ik, is perhaps especially sensitive to how few translations of Western classics Korean translators have produced compared with their Japanese counterparts. Many of those translations, he adds, are retranslations from Japanese texts.

The problem is not only the “shameful” quantity but also quality of translations. Park confessed that he was “disillusioned and shocked” to see how shoddy and cursory the translations were, even those done by “renowned” scholars, and how many translated works belong within the shameful category. Park took an example of Dante’s “The Divine Comedy” translated by an Italian language professor, which is full of mistranslations and grammatically wrong expressions. And this is just the tip of a huge iceberg, according to Park. It is almost customary for professors to just let or make graduate students do translations with their own credits, which have spawned bad cross-cultural texts.

This reminds me of how some of China’s English textbooks have been produced:

  1. A professor in China who is not a native speaker of English is given a book contract.
  2. The professor then hands the work over to his students, none of whom are native speakers of English.
  3. The students, quite understandably not giving a damn about the professor’s project, proceed to plagiarize previously produced textbooks, reproducing old errors and introducing new ones.
  4. The book is published, further establishing the professor as an expert on English.

I’ve seen this process in action myself.

Back to the article now. Part of the problem is that in academic reviews professors are seldom given appropriate credit for any translations they might produce.

Another factor is the poor remuneration for the work:

For example, if a translator sells about 5,000 copies of a 10,000-won ($10) book — a big hit if it’s a social science or humanities studies book — he could have only around 5 million won [US$5,000] in hand at the end. With such minuscule reward for sweaty work, you will either churn out low quality translations or leave the job once and for all, the author writes.

I suspect that many translators, regardless of their target language, would recognize that situation — and even that’s without factoring in the woes of “work for hire.”

Pointing to the fragile base for the nation’s translation, Park went on further to stress that Korea does not even have a proper English-Korean dictionary. Quoting an English professor, Park said the majority of Korean-English dictionaries are translated versions of Japanese-English ones.

“These dictionaries have omitted many Korean words with purely Korean linguistic origins (as they had translated Japanese definitions word for word),” Park quoted the English scholar.

The article closes with Park pronouncing another of those warnings of “doom” for the Korean language if nothing is done to correct the situation.

Is [the] Korean Language Doomed?, Korea Times, January 20, 2006

Full Mandarinization impossible, says PRC education official

China’s huge population and lack of resources mean the country will never manage to get all its people to speak the national language Mandarin or standarded Chinese despite a 50-year campaign to do so, said a senior education official.

But the fact that more than half of China’s 1.3 billion people can now speak Mandarin represents a tremendous success, Zhang Shiping, vice director of the education ministry’s language planning department, told Reuters.

“I would say a 60 to 70 precent penetration rate is the best we’ll ever achieve,” Zhang said. “China is too big, and has too many poor areas to get to 100 percent. That will never happen.”

The article, alas, continues the standard but incorrect practice of referring to “dialects” (as opposed to separate languages), though at least it did add this:

Linguists say some of the dialects are actually separate languages, but in China they are officially seen as dialects of a single Chinese language.

Significantly, however, that sentence was deleted from the version of the story posted on the Web site of the Shanghai Daily.

source: China gives up on speaking the lingo, Reuters, January 20, 2006