Feb. 10th, 2009 08:41 pm
A lily tree by any other name
I was looking over
monshu's shoulder as he scanned eBay for Japanese prints to bid on. He was considering one that depicted a magnolia in bloom. "Aren't those what you call 'tulip trees'?" he asked. I had to explain that, no, the only people I knew who called them that were southerners who reserved "magnolia" for evergreen magnolias; growing up where the only evergreen magnolias were in hothouses, we didn't make that discrimination. Besides, we would never have mistaken a tulip tree, which grows up straight and leafy and as tall as a tree out of Tolkien with the stunted spring shrubs with their purplish blooms.
I showed him the Wikipedia article for "tulip tree" and was astonished to find out that there's a species native to China; I'd always thought of them as a distinctly American tree like the cottonwood or the black walnut. Of course, I immediately wanted to know the Chinese name. A bit of sleuthing turned up 鵝掌楸 ézhǎngqiú or "goose foot catalpa".
This had us a little baffled. The alternative name, 馬褂木 mǎguàmù "magua tree" (a magua or "horse gown" being a kind of Qing Dynasty riding jacket) no less. Then I remembered the guide to native trees I'd bought in Beijing and looked up "Liriodendron" in the scientific name index. "Because the leaf resemble a goose's foot," it informed us, "and also the leaf of the catalpa tree, so it gets its name. Also called 'magua tree" because the outspread leaf resembles a magua." I leave you all to judge that for yourselves.
The Koreans call them 목백합 /mokpaykhap/ "tree lilies" or 백합나무 /paykhapnamu/ "lily trees", using the Sino-Korean and native Korean words for "tree", respectively, paired with the Sino-Korean for "lily". The Japanese, by contrast, go all native and call them yuri no ki, which has the same meaning. Of course, tulips are an even more recent introduction to Korea and Japan than they are to Europe, so the substitution is understandable--moreso when one considers it might even be a calque on the botanical name, Liriodendron.
Curiously, though, "lily" doesn't appear in the name of the surprise lilies, which--like so many of our loveliest flowers--are imports from East Asia. To the Japanese, they are 夏水仙 natsuzuisen or "summer narcissus". (The narcissus, in turn, is literally translated a "water immortal".) Even more curious is the Korean name 상사화 /sangsahwa/, 상사 (相思) being a term which Martin glosses as "mutal (reciprocal, reciprocated) love, pining for each other" and 화 (花) being Sino-Korean for "flower".
I showed him the Wikipedia article for "tulip tree" and was astonished to find out that there's a species native to China; I'd always thought of them as a distinctly American tree like the cottonwood or the black walnut. Of course, I immediately wanted to know the Chinese name. A bit of sleuthing turned up 鵝掌楸 ézhǎngqiú or "goose foot catalpa".This had us a little baffled. The alternative name, 馬褂木 mǎguàmù "magua tree" (a magua or "horse gown" being a kind of Qing Dynasty riding jacket) no less. Then I remembered the guide to native trees I'd bought in Beijing and looked up "Liriodendron" in the scientific name index. "Because the leaf resemble a goose's foot," it informed us, "and also the leaf of the catalpa tree, so it gets its name. Also called 'magua tree" because the outspread leaf resembles a magua." I leave you all to judge that for yourselves.
The Koreans call them 목백합 /mokpaykhap/ "tree lilies" or 백합나무 /paykhapnamu/ "lily trees", using the Sino-Korean and native Korean words for "tree", respectively, paired with the Sino-Korean for "lily". The Japanese, by contrast, go all native and call them yuri no ki, which has the same meaning. Of course, tulips are an even more recent introduction to Korea and Japan than they are to Europe, so the substitution is understandable--moreso when one considers it might even be a calque on the botanical name, Liriodendron.
Curiously, though, "lily" doesn't appear in the name of the surprise lilies, which--like so many of our loveliest flowers--are imports from East Asia. To the Japanese, they are 夏水仙 natsuzuisen or "summer narcissus". (The narcissus, in turn, is literally translated a "water immortal".) Even more curious is the Korean name 상사화 /sangsahwa/, 상사 (相思) being a term which Martin glosses as "mutal (reciprocal, reciprocated) love, pining for each other" and 화 (花) being Sino-Korean for "flower".
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(IIRC, the pronunciation would be identical, so that might not matter... but then you still can't retrieve the original spelling.)
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So, Yale uses a period in much the same way that Pinyin uses an optional(?) apostrophe to mark ambiguous syllable divisions.
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