Japanenglish Re-Oriented : Column Complaints About Convoluted Manuals Lead to, of All Things, Change
IT IS EXHILARATING to learn that something one has written may heighten our access to today’s technology.
In 1988, I wrote a column called “Dis-Oriented,” deploring the impenetrable “Japanenglish” in which instruction manuals for Japanese-manufactured videocassette recorders and other electronic instruments were written.
I cited some examples, including this one from a manual on how to operate a vinyl pipe cutter manufactured by Hanazono Tools: “The section cut off very handsome and yet very easy to cut in one hand. . . . Be careful not to place your finger under the cutter blade because the cutter of the pliers with springs touches the surface of the pipe by your first holding of the handle.”
“As the Japanese continue to dominate our markets in automobiles and electronics,” I wrote, “we can take comfort in the knowledge that they have not yet mastered the American language.
“Anyone who has brought a Japanese gadget into his home (and who hasn’t?) knows the frustration of trying to make sense out of the instruction booklet. Obviously, such booklets are written by Japanese unfamiliar with the illogicalities of American idiom.”
One does not presume, when he makes such a comment, that it will be heeded by those responsible. But the Japanese are successful because they are sensitive to what the buyers want. Efficient little cars, for one thing; also reliable and ingenious electronic equipment.
(I once received a letter from a reader who said he was proud that he had never bought anything made in Japan. I told him to look in his car and see who made the radio. Never heard back.)
Now I have received an astonishing letter from Mitsubishi:
“We thought you might be interested in this story about redesigning the owners’ manuals for Mitsubishi Electric Sales America. Your September, 1988, article, ‘Dis-Oriented,’ discussed Japanese instruction manuals. Along these lines, we think Mitsubishi’s new owners’ manuals incorporate the illogicalities of the American idiom and will make owning audio-video equipment simpler and more enjoyable.”
It was signed by Mitch McCullough, director of editorial services.
I am not saying that Mitsubishi decided to put its manuals into English just because of my taunts, but their remembering an article that appeared more than 18 months ago and advising me of their reform shows that they are sensitive to the press as well as to the public.
The material McCullough sent me indicates that Mitsubishi threw its problem into the hands of graduate students at Carnegie Mellon University’s Communications Design Center in Pittsburgh.
Redesigning owners’ manuals isn’t as easy as it sounds, according to Chris Freeble, communications design specialist for Mitsubishi’s audio-video group.
“Intensive research has gone into how people approach this type of text,” he says. “Carnegie Mellon has an entire department devoted to the theory behind document design, a field that has evolved to include the study of graphic design, professional writing, cognitive psychology and human factors.”
Besides, Freeble adds, “most users don’t want to know the theory behind audio-video equipment. They just want to know which buttons to push to program their VCR.”
Exactly. That’s all I have ever asked of my VCR.
Meanwhile, the technology itself may even be outstripping the need for intelligible manuals. In another recent column, I wished for “a machine that you could tell, ‘I’m going out for the day. Will you please tape the Super Bowl game for me?’ ” (That appeal came after, for the second time, I had unwittingly made a speaking engagement for Super Sunday, tried to tape the game and both times blew it.)
A reader, Dave Pedersen, writes that “help is on the way.” He encloses a page from Fortune quoting Hiroyuki Mizuno, head of research and development at Matsushita Electric Industrial, who predicts that, as memory chips become cheaper, new, intelligent machines in the home--such as VCRs, appliances and kitchen tools--will be operated by voice commands.
This report appears under the headline, “Hello, VCR, I’ll be late. Tape ‘L.A. Law’ tonight.”
In time, Mizuno says, it will be possible to control every appliance from a telephone outside the house. One may call home and not only instruct the VCR to tape a certain show, but also to fill the bath tub, turn on the oven or heat the house.
I’m reminded of the words to that old song, “Hello, Central! Give me Heaven, ‘cause my mother’s there.”
