But who is it for?
Two conversations I had recently illustrate a problem I often see in translation.
The first conversation occurred when I met with four apprentices to discuss some of their recent work. I brought with me a draft of one of my own translations that is currently being edited, just to show them what my in-progress work looks like. I printed roughly 1 page of the English text as a sample, then supplied the original Chinese text on the back of the page. Once I handed out the sample, it took only a few seconds before someone flipped to the reverse side of the page to check what the original said. Before long, most (all?) of them were flipping back and forth. I said, “Just focus on the English for now. You don’t need to worry about the original.” As they continued reading, it didn’t take long for one of them to flip to the reverse side again, an act soon followed by her peers. I finally said, “If you’re flipping back and forth between languages, you’re reading it wrong. That’s not how the readers will read it when it’s published.”
The second conversation came via a WeChat message from a friend in the industry. I’ll reproduce that conversation (slightly edited), with my friend’s permission. She wrote:
Just wanted to send you this article as I think you might find it interesting: https://www.themoscowtimes.com/2019/08/14/if-i-were-the-queen-of-translation-reviews-wordsworth-a66847
I had just read the same article a few days earlier. My reply to my friend was:
I don’t quite agree that only someone who knows the original language should review, but I agree that knowing whether the reviewer read both versions is helpful when I read the review. There is plenty of room for reviews by those who only read the translated version. Ideally, in the long run, most readers of the translated text won’t have the ability to read the original – that is, after all, the whole point of translating.
Her response:
I totally agree with you! I think it is also a very elitist stance to only allow readers of both languages to review. Doesn't seem right since as you say, the whole point of translation is to give people access to more diverse literature.
Both of these conversations were questioning how to read a translation. In both instances, we had to turn back to the question of why we translate at all. Translation is not a task that is undertaken for the sake of people who already speak and read the original language, those who are immersed in the same culture that produced the text itself. In fact, if all the potential readers for the new work knew the original language, there would be no need for the translation at all.
When we evaluate the translation, there is obviously a desire to ensure that the translated work conforms to the shape of the original. The question, though, is what this “conformity” would look like. As a working literary translator, I am very firmly committed to the idea that it is the reader is the surest measure by which conformity can be measured. As Matt Reeck notes, “A published book imagines a reader, for a published book without a reader is a book that loses someone’s money.” The point of publishing a translation is so that it will be read by new readers, readers who live in a different context from that in which the readers of the text in the original language would have. To me, the best way to measure a translation’s faithfulness is to examine those new readers’ experience of the world of the text and compare it to how the readers of the original language experienced it. Not only because the two languages function differently, but also because the two readerships come from different contexts, the new text will necessarily be constructed somewhat differently from the original. What matters is whether or not it achieves the same thing, not whether it is constructed similarly.
There is clearly value in comparing the translated text alongside the source text, going line by line to see how each sentence or word was rendered, especially for someone who is studying translation. However, that is not necessarily the best way to evaluate the effectiveness of the translation. Instead, the book must be seen as a whole, each scene, each sentence considered not just for how it appears in light of its point of origin, but for how its light will shine when it reaches its destination. If it shines as brightly as the original, casting similar shadows in the new landscape, bringing the same warmth to those it shines on, then it is a successful translation.
If we fail to take note of the central position the reader holds in the reading process, we will fail to create books that communicate. This is just as true of a translation as it is of an original work. It’s a matter of using the right tools for the task – to refuse to turn a caring father into a pervert, to allow a relationship to be the same in its new context that it was in its old, to be clear about whether we are coming or going. It is a matter of knowing what it is we are translating, then doing that, regardless of the criticism our minor departures may invite.
My own commitment to translating for the reader is largely because the focus of my postgraduate studies was the role of the reader. I am a very reader-oriented writer, and a very reader-oriented translator. This does not mean I overlook the importance of the original text in my translation work, but that I am aware of the purpose of the text as I translate. My work is never meant to be simply a linguistic exercise, but is meant instead to communicate effectively to the new reader. And I think this makes for stronger translations, in the long run.