Is the Problem the Translation or the Original?
a conversation with Alluvium editor, Susie Gordon
I’m very happy to have Alluvium editor Susie Gordon back for another conversation at A Polite Lie this month, where we will once again cover a wide range of topics.
Susie’s course with Tender Leaves, entitled Editing Literary Translations, includes 6 video modules (audio and written transcripts available), a suggested reading list, and 1-month paid access to all content at A Polite Lie.
You can learn more about Susie’s work at Book Doctor.
SHELLY:
Hi Susie, great to have you back to chat about translation at A Polite Lie.
I was recently talking to a friend about a book we’re reading together, War and Peace. She asked me if I had any thoughts on the translation of the book, even though I don’t speak or read Russian. I had been thinking of talking to her about exactly that issue the same day she asked, so it turned out to be quite an interesting conversation, given that we were both thinking about the same types of things.
My thoughts on the translation were simply that there are places that the prose is not easy or natural to read in English, and it was obvious to me, without knowing the original language at all, that the problem lay in the translation. To start with, the punctuation is inconsistent and often quite awkward in the English text. That was the first signal of the translation problem, for me. My friend asked if I noticed it because I am a translator myself, and I said I might have recognised that the issue is one of translation because of my work as a translator, but that I noticed the awkwardness of the prose because of my work as a writer and editor. However, as we discussed more, I came to the conclusion that it was really my work as a reader that made me notice the problems in the text. There were several times I had to stop and reread a sentence, and on each occasion, it was because the prose was clunky. The translation is generally good – certainly not so bad as to mar the overall reading experience – but there are spots where the prose is just grating, mainly due to the uneven punctuation and the habit of stacking too many modifiers on a single word, which English does not bear as well as some languages do.
Have you encountered similar reading experiences, when you were reading “for leisure” rather than “for work” (if it is even possible to make such a distinction in our field)?
SUSIE:
Hello! Thanks for having me back.
This is such an interesting point, and one that is forcing me to admit a deep, dark secret: I haven't always been a fan of reading work in translation! This may sound like heresy for one who is employed in the translation industry. I ought to explain. Growing up, I was fascinated by all forms of literature – the Russian greats, the French bohemians, the Chinese classics. Therefore, at the library, I would gravitate to work in translation from these cultures. However, what I found between the pages of older, fustier translations was often a disappointment. Even though I was unfamiliar with Russian, French, and Chinese back then, I was somehow aware that the translations weren't doing these great works justice. From what I knew of Dostoevsky, his original work was stellar, replete with realism and social commentary, but some of the translations I read fell flat. This led me to avoid reading work in translation for a long time. It has been through entering the translation industry as an editor that I've come to understand exactly why the work I was reading fell so flat in English. In my youth, it was just a hunch that something wasn't quite right!
SHELLY:
I can relate to that, but for me, when I had that feeling that something wasn’t right, I usually assumed there was something wrong with me as a reader, so I worked extra hard to read translated literature. Encountering a clunky translation always made me feel it was my own inadequacy as a reader that made the experience so lacklustre.
This is an important point I’ve been mulling over recently: the translator is in such a unique position because her work will shape the reading experience and response to what was originally spoken by another person. When I was translating The Legend of the Condor Heroes, I came across a funny passage about the work of translation that perfectly illustrates the position of the translator. I posted about it here at A Polite Lie when I was working on it. Basically, the scene is focused on Genghis Khan and his fickleness, but it also has a lot to say about the importance of the reader (or listener) when determining how to translate a passage. Now, when I read a clunky translation, I am less likely to assume that the problem is with me as the reader, because I am more aware of the tendency to become so focused on the text you are translating that you forget the person who is reading the text. When you lose sight of the reader, you might end up with very good notes on the original text, put together in the target language, but it is not yet a complete translation because it does not quite reach the point of communicating to the reader.
SUSIE:
Your point about the translator's unique position of shaping the reading experience is precisely one of the issues I previously had with reading work in translation. As a younger reader, I almost resented the translator's power to "control" my experience of the original, hence why I would often seek out other translations of the same work, to experience another version. When I was an undergraduate studying Anglo-Saxon literature, I used to pore over the many different versions of Beowulf in modern English translation, as I felt that it gave me a wider appreciation of the text. I wasn't satisfied with Kemble's word-for-word approach, nor by Wackerbarth's lyricism, nor by Heaney's accessibility. I wanted them all! And more! This is often possible with canonical classic texts, but most probably won't be the case for contemporary literature. I've had to manage my expectations somewhat, and learn to trust and accept what an individual translator gives to me.
SHELLY:
That’s a really good way to look at it – each translator gives the reader something, even if what is given is imperfect or incomplete. I suppose it’s fair to say the same of any author, really. Translation just adds another layer in which the imperfections can creep in and perhaps become more obvious.
In the work of editing, how do you find the balance between addressing the imperfections that creep into a translation and keeping hold of all the good things that specific translator has brought to the project?
SUSIE:
It's always a challenge! I've recently been editing a short story translated into English by a non-native speaker. The translator has an absolutely incredible, intuitive grasp of English. At one point, she translated a phrase into English as "some random bloke." That is perfect, idiomatic, informal British English. I was very impressed! However, it unfortunately didn't quite chime with the register of the story, so I had to change it to something more suitable for the tone: "a man nobody knew." I hated getting rid of something that showed just how familiar the translator clearly is with English, but it was a sacrifice I had to make for the overall cogency of the piece.
SHELLY:
Oh! Now that’s an interesting topic that could spark a very lengthy discussion. I think we might need to leave it for next time.
Thank you so much for hanging out with me here at A Polite Lie. I appreciate the insights you bring to the translation process, and I’m already looking forward to our next chat!
SUSIE:
Thanks for having me! Looking forward to chatting again soon.
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