“Show-through?”
“That’s when words printed on one side of the paper are visible on the other side, which makes reading difficult.”
According to Miyamoto, paper for dictionaries had to be as thin and light as possible without allowing show-through. That was because the number of pages in a dictionary was so much greater than in any other type of book. The wrong thickness of paper would make the finished book unwieldy and impractical, too heavy to lift.
“You said you designed this paper for The Great Passage,” said Kishibe. “You mean this new product was specially made for our dictionary?”
“That’s right. We received the order from Mr. Majime a year ago, and our technical staff and development team put all their energy into creating these samples. It’s my great privilege to finally be able to present them today. Everyone at Akebono, including me, is filled with emotion at having finally reached this milestone.”
Miyamoto spoke with intensity. Majime must have presented the company with a challenge of daunting difficulty.
“Is it common for new dictionaries to use specially ordered paper?”
“That depends. The Gembu Student’s Dictionary of Japanese, for example, uses previously developed paper, but for Wordmaster our company came up with new paper. And as I say, we received the order for The Great Passage quite some time ago. We put enormous effort into creating something very special.”
He flipped through a sheaf of paper and looked at her with pride. “What do you think?”
“Tell me what I’m looking for.”
“The paper has a slightly yellowish tint with just a hint of red. We went through a lot of trial and error to come up with a color this warm.”
Ah, another weirdo. Too bad. She stopped trying to speak without exhaling. “But a paper this thin has no other uses besides dictionaries, does it?”
“Oh, yes it does.” He straightened the edges of the paper. “Of course, we wouldn’t use specially ordered paper like this anywhere but in The Great Passage. But the challenge of developing thinner and thinner paper is very important for our company as it helps us advance technically. There’s demand in all sorts of fields besides dictionaries: Bibles, for example, or insurance papers, or drug information leaflets, or industrial products.”
“I see.”
Kishibe was impressed. Now that she thought about it, the explanations that came tucked inside boxes of medicine were written on thin, neatly folded paper. She’d never really considered it, but evidently there was ongoing research and development to make all kinds of paper for all kinds of purposes.
Majime, who had been scrutinizing the paper samples, suddenly exclaimed, “There’s no waxiness!”
Kishibe and Miyamoto turned to look at him in surprise, unconsciously drawing close together.
Waxiness?
Majime wore a deep frown, looking like writer Ryunosuke Akutagawa with a toothache.
“Miss Kishibe, would you bring over one of the medium-sized dictionaries? Wide Garden of Words would do.”
As instructed, she brought over the dictionary from the bookshelf and laid it on the table. It was the latest edition.
“See here, Mr. Miyamoto?” Majime turned page after page, using only the ball of his thumb. “This is what I’m talking about.”
Kishibe and Miyamoto peered at Majime’s hands and exchanged puzzled glances.
“I beg your pardon?” Miyamoto said hesitantly.
Majime looked so severe now it was as if Akutagawa, his toothache raging, had turned his back on the world. “Don’t you see how the page clings to my finger as I turn it? And yet the pages don’t stick together, so I never turn more than a single page at one time. See for yourself.” He passed Wide Garden of Words over to them, and they tried turning its pages.
“It’s true!” said Kishibe.
“I see what you mean,” said Miyamoto. “There is definitely a touch of moisture in the paper that allows each page to be turned easily, using only the ball of the thumb.”
Majime nodded benevolently, pleased that Miyamoto had finally seen the light. “That’s what I call waxiness. It’s essential for dictionary pages,” he said. “Dictionaries are bulky and unwieldy to begin with. We want the user to turn pages with as little stress as possible.”
“I apologize.”
Miyamoto looked down, then resolutely took down a copy of Wordmaster from the shelf. He turned page after page, apparently checking something. His expression was so intense, he looked fierce.
Deep down Kishibe was taken aback by all this fuss over mere paper. At the same time, Miyamoto’s determination to help out with The Great Passage was a pleasure to behold.
He left off turning the pages, stepped out into the hall, and began talking to someone on his cell phone. When he came back into the room, he announced, “We’ll redo the samples immediately. These sample pages definitely lack the waxiness of the paper we used in Wordmaster. One of our technicians just explained why.”
Apparently a new paper machine had caused the problem.
“As you may know, making paper for specific uses requires careful adjustments to the pulp ingredients and sizing agents.”
After this explanation, Majime nodded and said, “Yes, I see.”
He hadn’t heard anything he didn’t already know, Kishibe realized, but he wanted to build up the younger man’s confidence. She took note of this demonstration of considerateness. She doubted whether most people knew anything at all about such “careful adjustments,” but she, too, nodded wisely.
Majime’s stern expression softened a bit. “So although you made the appropriate adjustments based on your experience with Wordmaster, because your paper machine was new you weren’t able to obtain the desired quality, is that it?”
“That’s exactly right.” Miyamoto hung his head. “Every paper machine has its quirks. Depending on the machine, the same formulation can produce slight irregularities. Not only that, the technician who supervised the paper for Wordmaster has since retired. I’m afraid we didn’t pay sufficient attention to waxiness.”
The only person on the planet who goes around paying sufficient attention to waxiness is Majime, Kishibe thought wryly.
Majime seemed won over by Miyamoto’s heartfelt apology. “I’m glad you understand the problem,” he said. “I look forward to your next samples.”
“Thank you, sir!” A smile finally returned to Miyamoto’s face. “I promise you we will produce paper that matches your highest expectations.” He swept up the samples and was gone.