Shibaraku
Work is literally grinding me into a paste, so here is a short, poorly-edited entry about why I prefer to read my pre-war books in pre-war printings.
Consider these two versions of the same sentence, from Akutagawa's Rashōmon. The first is in the original orthography. The second is modernized.
二人は屍骸の中で、暫、無言のまゝ、つかみ合つた。
二人は死骸の中で、しばらく、無言のまま、つかみ合った。
Futari wa shigai no naka de, shibaraku, mugon no mama, tsukamiatta: "The two of them among the corpses, briefly, without words, grappled," or, more naturally, "The two of them grappled among the corpses, briefly, wordlessly."
First of all, I want to direct your attention to the bad-assedness of this sentence. It starts with the two characters, immediately lowers our gaze to the corpses surrounding them, then slowly, silently returns us to the characters again, to discover that they have been silently grappling. I might also point out that this is the only sentence in the story to use the word futari (the two people), joining them textually as well as physically. And, of course, it is the moment at which the horror of the woman's life spreads to the man — note that the next sentence says that the outcome of their encounter was never in any doubt, but doesn't specify a "winner".
But all of this comes through in the postwar orthography too. So why do I prefer the older one? In a word: 暫.
I am not some Poundian who sees mysticism and hieroglyphics instead of phonetic radicals and squared-off patterns. But the effect of that solitary 暫 (shibaraku — "briefly", "for a moment"), poised alone between commas without even okurigana, is powerful. After the brutal scene-setting clause that begins the sentence, it suspends the reader in a single, concentrated character for four whole morae: shibaraku.
You don't get that when shibaraku is drawn out into four kana. There's no effect on meaning or pronunciation, of course, but the visual rhythm of the text becomes loose and bland — not when the text is a claustrophobic meditation on darkness and desperation.
Leonardo Boiko:
Also the まゝ —what’s up with modern versions forgoing the awesome repetition marks? And I like 云う better than plain, gormless いう. OTOH I can’t say I’m a fan of kyūkanazukai, like the large tsu above.