“Convenience Store Human” by Sayaka Murata. Sound unfamiliar? That’s the literal title of the smash-hit 2016 novel “コンビニ人間” (konbini ningen). When it appeared in English less than two years later, it did so under a different name: “Convenience Store Woman.”

Of course, this isn’t a misrepresentation or a poor translation by any means. The main character is a woman, and themes of femininity, gender roles and their expectations, are crucial to the text. Just as importantly, “コンビニ人間” has the same natural feeling and punchiness that “Convenience Store Woman” has, whereas “Convenience Store Human” just feels ... odd.

It goes to show that a key component of reading 日本文学 (nihon bungaku, Japanese literature) in the original is understanding what is normal — or in linguistic terms, “unmarked” — and what language is “marked.” Marked language draws attention to itself with its sound, symbolism, strangeness and complex idiomatic meaning. Importantly, it plays a significant role in shaping the deeper meaning of any 小説 (shōsetsu, novel) — the meaning that exists between the lines, beyond just the simple words on the page.

When reading in a second language, it can be hard to recognize what is 普通 (futsū, normal) or 無票 (muhyō, unmarked), and what is 不順 (fujun, abnormal) or 有標 (yūhyō, marked). And “コンビニ人間” is all about what it means to be 普通. Murata, a leading contemporary author, is well-known for spinning tales of characters who don’t quite fit into society, and “コンビニ人間” won her the most prestigious award in Japanese literature in 2016, the 芥川賞 (Akutagawa-shō, Akutagawa Prize). The book was described by prize judge Hiromi Kawakami as “terrifying and cute.”

A skillful translation by Ginny Tapley Takemori enabled the novel to be just as much of a hit abroad as it was in Japan, but Murata’s own prodigious literary skill makes the original version well-worth reading. So let’s dive into Murata’s world and explore how to decipher her Japanese. (Note: The English provided after the text is not Tapley Takemori’s translation. I used a literal translation to follow Murata’s specific sentence structures as they appear in Japanese.)

The novel begins with a vivid sonic description of the sounds and sights of the convenience store, though they aren’t worded so simply. These sounds and sights are connected to the body of the protagonist, Keiko, illustrating how she is truly a “コンビニ人間,” a human who is both defined and controlled by the コンビニ (konbini, convenience store). The ability to understand this slightly deeper meaning relies on identifying the 有標の言葉 (yūhyō no kotoba, marked language). Take a look at this sentence from the first paragraph:

全てが混ざり合い、「コンビニの音」になって、私の鼓膜にずっと触れている (Subete ga mazariai, “konbini no oto” ni natte, watashi no komaku ni zutto furete-iru..., [All the sounds,] it all mixes together and becomes “sounds of the convenience store,” constantly touching my eardrums). Of course, “constantly touching my eardrums” sounds pretty strange, and that’s not just because the phrase is a common idiom in Japanese. 鼓膜に触れる is marked language, indicating how much the convenience store’s sounds are literally inside of Keiko.
"Convenience Store Woman" by Sayaka Murata

A few paragraphs later: チャリ、とういう微かな小銭の音に反応して振り向き、レジのほうへと視線をやる (Chari, to iu kasukana kozeni no oto ni hanō shite furimuki, reji no hō e to shisen o yaru, I respond to the slight jingle of change and turn my head, putting my line of sight toward the register). We see another “marked” term here: 視線をやる (shisen o yaru, literally, to put one’s line of sight). To be clear, this isn’t nearly as strongly marked as 鼓膜に触れる. 目をやる (Me o yaru, to look toward) is a common expression, and swapping 目 for 視線 just adds an extra sense of technical complexity, like Keiko is a bit less warm and human. In fact, 視線 is repeated several times throughout the first few paragraphs. It’s as if the sounds are fishing reels that are pulling Keiko’s attention toward them, and she is unable to resist their tug.

The language clues pile up. Keiko says, 店内に散らばっている無数の音たちから情報を拾いながら、私の身体は納品されたばかりのおにぎりを並べている (Tennai ni chirabatte-iru musū no oto-tachi kara jōho o hiroi nagara, watashi no karada wa nōhin sareta bakari no onigiri o narabete-iru, While gathering information from the countless sounds scattered across the store, my body lines up the newly arrived onigiri). Here, 身体 (shintai/karada, body) has a slightly different meaning than 体 (karada, body): 身体 refers to the whole person, including their soul. Using 私の身体 instead of the simple pronoun 私 (watashi, I) indicates that Keiko feels detached from herself, yet again indicating the degree to which the convenience store controls her. 身体 is likewise repeated throughout these early paragraphs.

Interestingly, 身体 can be read as both shintai and karada. While reading it as shintai is more common, you can still read 身体 as karada in what is referred to as a 熟字訓 (jyukujikun) reading. This means pronouncing a compound kanji with its 訓読み (kunyomi, native Japanese reading of a kanji) instead of the typical 音読み (onyomi, Chinese-derived reading of kanji).

Murata emphasizes this aspect of Keiko’s relationship to the convenience store so much that she even writes it outright: 身体が勝手に動く (Karada ga katte ni ugoku, My entire being moves automatically). Later: 身体は反射的に動く (Karada wa hansha-teki ni ugoku, My entire being moves reflexively). 勝手に (katte ni) means “of its own accord,” whereas 反射的 (hansha-teki) carries the nuance of being a subconscious reaction to a stimuli. Once you start noticing the clues, you can see how Murata builds up Keiko’s deep immersion in the convenience store to the point where Keiko doesn’t even seem to have her own personhood.

Reading “コンビニ人間” will also lay out the store lingo that you probably have heard a million times but may not actually seen in writing. There are the basics like いらっしゃいませ (irasshaimase, welcome [to greet a customer]) when customers enter, and かしこまりました (kashikomarimashita, yes [sir/ma’am]/right away) when following a customer request.

But it’s also useful to see more complex common phrases written down: 年齢確認のタッチをお願いします (Nenrei kakunin no tacchi o onegaishimasu, Please confirm your age [on] the touch screen), or 冷たい飲み物と、温かいものは分けて袋にお入れしますか？ (Tsumetai nomimono to, atatakai mono wa wakete fukuro ni o-ire shimasu ka?, Shall I separate the cold beverage and the hot [food] stuff into separate bags?)

From コンビニ vocabulary to 有標な言葉, “コンビニ人間” offers a great intermediate challenge for Japanese learners looking to step into the world of Japanese literature. Keiko is very comfortable with her repetitive life at the convenience store until one day, a new employee arrives at her shop in search of a marriage partner — marking the true start of Murata’s amusing and twisty tale of the normal and abnormal.