In the end, the only thing left is a silence that scatters ruins throughout the day. Shadi’s parents had to leave the country on a morning when one could think almost anything: the silence of sleeping people has roots in the rain, but the rain has gotten used to leveling villages. So Shadi’s mother gave in and explained that his name is translated as “song of birds” in the language of his grandfather, a Lebanese farmer who had crossed the sea and sailed to the place where the sun went to die. “She’s already told you so many times,” said Mr. Shadi Mansfield’s parents were Catholic and made him pray every night before bed. Certain phrases echo throughout the story, as if they were the kitsune’s siren call not only is Shadi entranced, but the reader is pulled forward with the repetition, so consistency in the translation of these phrases is important. Shadi’s Japanese is not great, a sign of a lack of knowledge about Japanese culture which leads him to blindly trust the kitsune. The characters speak several languages in varying degrees of proficiency, which was a consideration when translating the dialogue. The reader discovers fox spirits through the foreign eyes of Shadi, whose parents come to Japan seeking asylum. Garzía’s “Prayers for a Fox” adds a twist to the traditional fox spirit story. Western readers know about them through manga, anime, and video games (the pokemon Ninetales, for example, is based on a fox spirit). How do you contain a haunting? How do you keep a posse of ghouls appeased? I don’t know, and here we are.įox spirits are common motifs in East Asian mythology. "Prayers for a Fox" is the first short story of mine that forced me to face the fact that running away is sometimes not enough.
I was probably doomed to go crazy from the very beginning. One of those countries, you know, one of those producing refugees and crimes against humanity. There was also the fact that I was living in a horrid place. I wrote letters to the world with the sole purpose of spreading my furry infection of foxes and other assets of a forest that was forbidden to me.
Nothing changed, I didn’t die, but I turned myself into an infection. It was pretty common in the telenovelas back then, the story of a woman going crazy just because. One of the first memories I have of my childhood is the fear of going crazy.
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