Is That a Fish In Your Ear? by David Bellos

I read quite a few books on translation and I can say that in my opinion the best book on translation came out in 2011 was Is That a Fish In Your Ear? by David Bellos. Bellos is professor of literature at Princeton and he translates from French to English.
Bellos’ book is not complicated and it is not about theory. Much of what he writes about has been written about in other books already, and often one can find much more information in other books than in his book. But what I like here is that he writes short, fairly simple mini-essays on many different aspects of translation. You can read a chapter here and a chapter there and learn something new and interesting without having to read the whole book if you do not want it. He writes, for example, about what translation is and is not, and what people say and think about translation, and how to use dictionaries, and on interpretation, and the European Union and language, and what the news has to do with translation, and automatic translation (he writes that it is not possible right now because “what you can say by means of translation is what the word means in the context in which it occurs” (p. 83), and a computer does not understand context), and dialects, and how we must rely on the translator or interpreter, and about poetry, and much more. It is clear that with so many topics, Bellos’ does not into much depth with them; in other words, in this book he discusses a little bit about a lot, and not much about just a little, as some readers would probably prefer. Personally, I like being able to dip in, but I understand that such a book is not for everyone.

What would we do without translation? Bellos writes, “Instead of using translation, we could learn the languages of all the communities we wish to engage with; or we could decide to speak the same language; or else adopt a single common language for communicating with other communities.” (p. 7) With 7000 or more different languages in the world it sounds unlikely. So we need translators, but why then do we have phrases such as traduttore traditore? Why are people suspicious of translators and translation in general? You can read about this in Bellos’ book.

Another thing that you can read about is how many non-translators believe that there is a right or good translation and a wrong or bad one. Bellos writes, “A translation can’t be right or wrong in the manner of a school quiz or a bank statement. A translation is more like a portrait in oils. The artist may add a pearl earring, give an extra flush to the cheek or miss out the grey hairs in the sideburns – and still give us a good likeness.” (p. 331) A translation is an interpretation and everyone interprets differently.

Sometimes a reader might wish that Bellos had written a whole book instead of just a short chapter on something, but as a whole, his book is very interesting and worth reading. His book is “en portrait in oils” – you or I might have added some jewelry or removed some hair, but it is still a beautiful painting.

Gillian Lathey and The Role of Translators in Children’s Literature

A few months ago, I published a review of Dr. Gillian Lathey’s latest contribution to translation studies. Her work on children’s literature is both important and fascinating, and she’s also a passionate speaker. Dr. Lathey, who teaches at Roehampton University in London, gave a great talk to my students this semester about the influence of translators on children’s literature and she also led a workshop for my MA students, encouraging them to look at various issues in regard to translating children’s lit. Here is the review:

The Role of Translators in Children’s Literature: Invisible Storytellers. Gillian Lathey. New York: Routledge, 2010. 241 pages. £76 (hardcover). ISBN: 078-0-415-98952-7.

Gillian Lathey’s latest contribution to the field of children’s literature in translation looks at the history of children’s literature in translation into English. Lathey provides an overview of translators and the role of the books and genres that they translated. As she points out, “Evidence from these biographical, bibliographical, and historical sources and from translators’ prefaces, afterwords, notes, and other writings has yet to be organised into a chronological account of translations and their resonance in English-language children’s literature. This book can only offer a starting point for such a major undertaking.” (5) It is an excellent starting point, and one can only hope that there will soon follow such histories of other languages.
Lathey’s book traces how early translators translated, without considering any particular special needs that children as an audience might have. Works for adults were read by and/or told to children, and this primarily included the Bible, romances/adventure stories, and fables and fairy tales. Even through the late 15th century, “[c]hildren were not yet regarded as separate consumers of texts other than books of instruction on courtesy and manners or schoolbooks.” (32) As Lathey points out, books became cheaper and more easily accessible via travelling booksellers, so children were able to read books not written or translated with a specific child audience in mind. Thus, children read what was available, and because such works were so popular, these were the ones that were most often translated. The style of translation generally seemed to include adaptation to the target culture. Lathey writes that “[i]t is hardly possible to speak of children experiencing cultural difference through these early translations of fables and romances, since multiple retellings had removed most cultural markers, but they did bring new kinds of stories to young readers. That novelty lay in the form of the short fable with its attached moral, or in the alternative, unsanctioned pleasures of the dramatic and episodic sixpenny romance.” (42)
Later on, writers and translators began to consider children as audiences with particular needs, and this led to the concept of writing works that could educate and improve children, while also entertaining them. A very popular book was Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, which was then translated and/or adapted in many countries. “Mapping and thereby controlling the natural world in fictional form was the province of the many European editions and reworkings of Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe, following Rousseau’s endorsement in Émile in 1762 of Defoe’s novel as the only text suitable for a child. The ‘robinsonnade’ was an unprecedented cross-cultural phenomenon in children’s literature, originating in Rousseau’s recommendation of Defoe’s novel as an exemplification of man’s autonomy and ability to improve his situation through intelligence, reflection, and hard word.” (62) This is a typical example, then, of adults using literature as a way of teaching children, and translators in turn felt they could change texts as needed, to better suit the target culture. The idea that the “child is a being whose natural instincts are not to be trusted, who is in constant danger of moral failure, disobedience, or succumbing to prejudice” (77) influenced how people then wrote or translated for children.
Things have changed today, so translators are very aware of who they are translating for. Instead of “religious persuasion, entertainment, and moral educational” (111), translators and theorists are more interested in a focus on child images and on appealing to what children want, rather than what adults think they need. “At the same time [as there has been increased academic interest in the topic] there has been an increase in the number of instances where translators directly address child readers, rather than their parents or teachers, in prefatory remarks.” (175) This affects what gets translated, by whom, and how.
Besides looking at which genres have been translated and how, Lathey also offers histories or case studies of some translators, such as William Caxton, Samuel Croxall, Helen Maria Williams, Thomas Holcroft, Mary Wollstonecraft, Edgar Taylor, Arthur Ransome (most people are unaware of his translation work), and Wanda Gág. She also has interviews with several more recent translators, Anthea Bell, Patricia Crampton, and Sarah Adams, about issues such as payment, working with editors, and methods for translation.
In this book, Lathey also briefly discusses topics such as the role of the Batchelder and Marsh awards, how the US and the UK were different in terms of translatorial strategies and practices in the 1930s, relay translations, women as translators and the related issue of the low status of translation, and more. Not all of these matters are covered in the detail that they deserve, but that is understandable given the scope of this work. Lathey aims here to “to trace in outline the chronology and impact of translators and translation on the history of children’s literature written in English and, wherever possible, to give an account of the motivation and methodology of translators working for a child audience.” (8) As such, her book is an important first step and it fills a gap in the field of translation studies. One can only hope that soon there will be such books for other languages/cultures as well, and that other researchers will pick up where Lathey has left off.

A Good Review

I’ve sometimes felt that reviewers of translated books don’t seem to really understand translation. They might write that a review is “fluent” or “poor”, but they don’t say what they mean by those terms, and they don’t usually compare the source text to the translated text. They often appear to judge translations based on how they read in English.

So I was really pleased to see the recent review in the 29 August issue of the New Yorker by Daniel Mendelsohn, whose work I always find worth reading. In this article about Arthur Rimbaud’s career, Mr. Mendelsohn names various translators (sometimes even that is beyond reviewers), compares translations, and shows knowledge of the source text, which helps him to analyze the translations.

This is a well-done translation review and I wish more reviewers would review and think like Mr. Mendelsohn.

The Point of Rescue

I don’t usually write reviews of fiction on here, but I do want to mention Sophie Hannah’s The Point of Rescue.

But first a little background. Ms. Hannah, who is known as both a poet and crime novelist, has kindly agreed to come talk to my MA students in literary translation in the autumn. There are a couple of reasons why she’ll be an interesting guest lecturer. One is that her work has been widely translated, so she can talk about translation from the perspective of an author who might get contacted by her translators. The class she is coming to speak to spends a few weeks looking at the translation of crime fiction, so it will be exciting for them to meet a talented mystery writer. Also, she has worked on translations herself. Although not a translator, she has had texts literally translated and then she has written versions of them. So Ms. Hannah should have plenty of useful insight for my students. The same day she meets them, I have also co-arranged an evening about the translation of detective fiction at Norwich’s lovely independent bookstore, The Book Hive, and Ms. Hannah will be appearing there to discuss her work being adapting for TV. But I’ll tell you more about that event as it gets closer (in December).

So to prepare for her visit, I wanted to read her work. I thought The Point of Rescue was well written and engaging and it had plenty of surprising twists. One of the most exciting twists even hinged on translation, but I won’t say more about that, so I don’t spoil it for you. I would recommend this novel, especially if you’re looking for a fast, entertaining read with a somewhat poetic style.

The Pun Also Rises by John Pollack

This new book by John Pollack (I accidentally spelled his last name Pollock, but luckily noticed there was something fishy about that) is all about the pun and its role in human history.
As he explains, no one is certain where the word comes from but it seems possible that it is from the word pundit, which means “a learned Hindu versed in Sanskrit” (5), and Sanskrit is a complex language that has many puns in it. Another suggested etymology is that it comes from the Latin punctilio, which means “fine point” (9). Besides the issue of etymology, it is also hard to clearly define what a pun is. It’s not exactly the same as wordplay; rather “a pun transforms one thing into another by relating them through sound or, in the case of visual puns, sight. A play on words only works if the two things it relates are already intrinsically connected, either by etymology or function.” (9)
From the word itself, Pollack moves into detailed discussions of brain research, how we hear sound/language, and how the evolution of human bodies primed us for the ability to crack jokes. Evolution made people walk upright and then because of the change in gait, which caused a concomitant change in hip size, there were lower birthrates. All this “required compensatory survival skills to make up the difference. Among those that emerged, most likely about 150,000 years ago in East Africa, were the interrelated capacities for language and for abstract thinking.” This eventually also led to a sense of humor, which obviously also helps in difficult times, as Pollack points out. (49)
But puns have had their ups and downs throughout our history. At one point, it was thought to be the sign of intelligence to use puns, and there were even pun duels (such as there were sword fights), whereas at other times, it was argued that puns were inappropriate and that they shouldn’t be part of intellectual discourse. Another point of contention has been whether they are appropriate for children (this is, incidentally, something that has been part of my research). But as Pollack writes: “it’s this very wordplay that exposes children to the mechanics of semantics, long before they every tackle grammar in a classroom. Studies also indicate that children’s facility with language has a major impact on their ability to excel in other subjects, too, including math and science. Playing with language helps them discover similarities, differences and patterns, as well as how to make bold conceptual leaps” (105).
One of the major misconceptions about puns is that they have to be funny. In fact, as Pollack explores in his work, puns can be used to make people think about language and meaning, or to refer to taboo issues (“the more rigid a society becomes, the greater its reliance on subtexts, especially puns, to address sensitive or taboo topics.” (140)), or to serve a range of other functions. Pollack writes: “One should remember, though, that puns are at their core defined by multiplicity of meaning, not always humor. The common expectation that puns should always be funny, or die in the attempt, is a relatively modern development.” (65)
Pollack also discusses why people have negative feelings towards puns and why some groan when they hear one. He says that “if a pun’s secondary meaning does not clearly echo or reinforce a conversation’s greater context, such wordplay can come across as deliberate and disruptive nonsense. This is likely a principal reason why many people who strongly prefer order to ambiguity often express such antipathy, even hostility, to any and all puns.” (145)
If you’re expecting a joke book, look elsewhere (although you can watch Pollack on a pun safari). If you want to learn about puns through history and how puns influence culture, this is the book for you. Still, Pollack does offer some puns, including one of my favorite jokes: “A distraught patient rushes into a psychologist’s office. ‘Doctor, doctor! I think I’m a wigwam, then I think I’m a teepee. I’m a wigwam, I’m a teepee. I’m a wigwam, I’m a teepee…’
‘Relax,’ the shrink says. ‘You’re just too tense.’” (43)
If you’re too tense, why not take a break and read this book? It’s fascinating and funny, and it proves that there’s always something new and worth learning under the pun.
And if you want to win a copy of this book, check back here for the next post!

Reviewing Kudos

I was very impressed to note in the 6 September issue of the New Yorker that a book reviewer, James Wood, actually read a translated book and its original in order to comment on the translation. This is very rare but a welcome step in terms of reviewing translated literature. Writing about Jean-Christophe Valtat’s book O3, Mr. Wood said:

“Some of the aesthetic credit should go to Mitzi Angel, Valtat’s translator. A reading of the original novella, published in 2005, reveals what a careful, alchemical job she has done, often coming up with ingenious slang, and with creative ways of patching English syntax into complex, and very French, phrasing.”

I hope more reviewers follow Mr. Wood’s example of comparing the original to the translation.

It’s a Crime to Ignore Translation

Yes, we know how popular Stieg Larsson’s books have gotten and how people in English-speaking countries and elsewhere are suddenly becoming aware of Nordic crime fiction (note: they aren’t showing much interest in Nordic literary fiction, unfortunately), but it’s no surprise that articles about the phenomenon still fail to mention translation. Here’s a typical article on Larsson’s work and Nordic crime fiction in general. It does not include a word on how these books make it into English (or other languages) and onto the international market.

How can we educate the reading public, including book reviewers, about what translation is and what it involves?

Thinking Italian Translation

I was looking at the Thinking Italian Translation book put out by Routledge as part of my thus-far lazy effort to learn Italian. This book is part of a series that also includes Spanish, German, and French. These texts do not teach you the language, but they teach you to think about the language from a translator’s perspective and thus they’re quite useful both for translators and for language-learners (well, for language-learners of a certain nerdy inclination, like yours truly).

There is some basic information, such as explanations of sociolect, adverbs, code-switching, and calques, among other topics, and there is information on scientific and technical translation and legal and business translation. Throughout the book, there are a number of examples, tips, and practical exercises. There are also several chapters on contrastive linguistics, in which the authors compare and analyze linguistic features in English and Italian, such as the conditional tense.

End of the Relay

I was reading the 23 March edition of the New Yorker and noticed the following description of Ismail Kadare in a short book review: “Albania’s most distinguished novelist…” And yet, as the review points out, the book being reviewed was translated first from Albanian to French and then from French to English. In other words, a relay translation.

Wouldn’t “Albania’s most distinguished novelist” deserve better? Let’s face it – nearly any writer deserves a one-to-one translation, versus the multiple languages and changes involved in a relay translation. I’m surprised and disappointed that this is still so common.

Babylon Websites

Last year, I was asked to try out the Babylon dictionary and translation services. I always feel a bit guilty when I am invited to review something and then don't like it as much as I had hoped I would.

The dictionary provides quite a bit of information for each word, though only a couple of translations (to Irish and Welsh for each of the words I chose -- not quite the most useful languages). And the translation software didn't work at all from English to Swedish in my experience. It kept offering me translations to a Cyrillic language for some reason. Spanish, Norwegian, and Danish worked somewhat better, especially the Spanish.

In sum, I'd say the dictionary is pretty good for language-learners while the translation software definitely needs improvement.