Annals of bad literary translation

I’m excited to have another amazing story to add to Life in Translation’s collection of bad literary translations.  At the same time, though, it’s disappointing to see that French readers who thought they were reading classic 1950’s hardboiled detective and noire novels were actually reading distorted and condensed versions of them.

Here is the L’Expresse article: Polars américains: la traduction était trop courte.  [American detective novels: The translation was too short.]

Too short—the article relates how entire paragraphs and even chapters were cut out for the translated versions (sound familiar? but the result will have been even worse in mystery novels, where it may result in clues being lost). In some cases, where the amputations (as the article calls them) left the story incomprehensible, bridging text was invented out of whole cloth. The L’Expresse article includes shocking photos of the vandalized text that the translators were supposed to work from.

Moreover, the translators apparently simply didn’t understand English well enough to produce accurate translations. One example: in a scene in James Crumley’s The Last Good Kiss, the detective goes to a topless bar. In French, the bar is topless too, but “without a roof”; i.e., homeless.

First ever direct English translation of Stanisław Lem's “Solaris”

What is it with classic novels and bad translations? (See past posts on bad or faulty translations of Beauvoir’s The Second Sex, The Second Sex reloaded, Levi’s The Periodic Table, and Verne’s Off On a Comet (Hector Servadac).)

Now it turns out that the only available English version of Stanisław Lem’s 1961 Polish science fiction novel Solaris had been relay translated from a poor French version. The Guardian reports that a new direct translation by Bill Johnston has just been published which “remov[es] a raft of unnecessary changes and restor[es] the text much closer to its original state.”

“There are also moments where the meaning has simply become distorted or even inverted,” said Johnston.

When have we seen this before? Every time! The Guardian article also describes some of the reversions to the novel’s original names that will make the effect on the English language reader closer to that of the original on the Polish language reader. As also seen in other accounts of poorly translated classics, the previous translators did not hesitate to cut corners; for instance summarizing dialogue into narrative. The article doesn’t say whether these faults were due to the intermediary French version, or whether they were made in the previous English version.

“All in all, the [original] translation, though it tells the story of Solaris, frequently fails to convey Lem’s style, his humour, his attention to detail. Above all, it is not a careful and accurate translation of the text that he wrote,” said [Johnston]. “The new translation will finally allow English-language readers to experience Lem's extraordinary, prescient, ever-relevant novel in all its fullness.”

The article reports that the novel is first coming out in audio version, and later e-book. If some legal issues can be resolved, the publisher hopes to bring out a print version.

Course for Korean literature translation

The Korean JungAng Daily has an article about a literature translation course being offered by the Korea Literature Translation Institute:

The special translation course is being held to train new translators who will provide high quality translations based on in-depth knowledge of Korean literature. This course is different from other translation courses because it focuses solely on literature.

Anyone interested in Korean literature translation can enter this course and there are no restrictions on academic level. After a first screening, 10 people will be registered for each course in seven languages (English, French, German, Spanish, Russian, Chinese and Japanese).

The course will focus on practical translations of Korean literature text and there will also be special programs, such as meeting with the author and a literature journey.

The course takes place from April to November for two semesters of 12 weeks each. The class will be held once a week for two hours on a weekday from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m.

Student screening is done in three stages: documentation screening, a written examination and interview. The institute will review each applicant’s passion for translation, knowledge on Korean literature, understanding of the base language and final language, and the person’s sincerity.

The article has further contact information about how to apply for the course.

Science Fiction & Fantasy Translation into English

If you are a translator and a SFF fan/reader, you will want to visit—and probably bookmark—the Science Fiction & Fantasy Translation Awards website. These awards are about translation of SFF into English from other languages.

The stated purpose of the Awards:

These Awards reward the translation of science fiction, fantasy and related fiction from other languages into English. They exist both to promote the fiction of non-English-speaking authors and to highlight the valuable work done by translators.

Interview with Don Bartlett, translator of the Garmann books

This e-mail interview with Don Bartlett, who has translated three of the Garmann novels by Stian Hole from Norwegian, was recently published in the Montreal Gazette. I hadn’t heard of the books before, but this article and an interview with the author have piqued my interest.

Bartlett talks about his work translating novels, translating children’s books, illustrations, idioms, translating for UK vs. North American readers, and localization vs. maintaining otherness. Here are some particularly interesting excerpts from the interview:

Gazette: Most people would assume that translating a picture-book text must be a piece of cake when compared with a full-length novel. Is that so? Or does it pose its own challenges? (I’d be inclined to think it would be right up there with translating a poem – shorter than a novel, but possibly trickier.)

Bartlett: Well, novels vary in their levels of difficulty. Some are close to poetry and, hence, very time-consuming and energy-sapping to translate; some are straightforward narratives and it just flows; most are a combination and pose a variety of challenges. With picture books, I suppose it is the same.

In the case of Garmann, I worked more slowly than with a novel, taking more time with individual word selection. Maybe the meaning isn’t as compressed as with poetry, but you still have to find the right tone, establish characters, consider your readership and so on. And, of course, you have to match the pictures with the text. I was very lucky with the X-ray picture of butterflies in Garmann’s Summer. At least we have the same expression as the Norwegians: to have butterflies in your stomach! I thought about other translators then. [The Garmann books have been translated into 10 other languages.]

Gazette: Many, many years ago, I heard British author/illustrator Charles Keeping talk about his book Joseph’s Yard, and the difficulties he encountered with its American publisher. Keeping’s text referred to his young protagonist feeling ashamed and the American publisher balked at that, claiming no child would understand the word and no child should have to feel shame; instead, the American version described the boy as feeling sad. Have you had any disputes with Eerdmans about your translation of the Garmann books?

Bartlett: Ah, I was going to mention this in answer to your last question. I do my translations thinking about a young British reader. Then the translation is sent to Eerdmans and they Americanize it, which means not just changing the spelling and possibly vocabulary, but also editing to exclude/adapt items which they feel would not go down well with American readers. They are more sensitive to issues of the market than I am. And judging from what I have read of American reviews of the Garmann books, I think they have made the right calls.

For me, however, this domesticating – adapting a text to the home market – means a bit of a loss. I like all the features of Norwegian life – place names, street names, currency, lifestyles, degrees of frankness, etc. – to shine out so that readers are aware of something different. […] Yes, there is definitely a Norwegian-ness that comes through – mostly Garmann’s way of thinking, the practical and concrete approach he has, the knowledge and awareness of nature. Can you feel that when you read it?

Gazette: “It takes the flame at least seven years to reach his fingertips.” I loved that line! Is it translated verbatim, or did you have to reach into your poet’s soul?

Bartlett: Much as I might like to claim a poet’s soul, that’s a direct translation.

Gazette: About that dewdrop on the tip of the old man’s nose: Was it a dewdrop in Norwegian as well, or the result of an old man’s runny nose?

Bartlett: In the Norwegian book, it is a “shiny drop hanging from the tip of his nose.” However, I remember my mother always laughing at me and saying I had a dewdrop hanging from my nose. So I used that.

Strike Two for “The Second Sex”

The story about the new translation into English of Simone Beauvoir’s Le deuxieme sexe (The Second Sex) turns out to have a shocking and disappointing sequel.

To recap, the original 1953 translation was full of inaccuracies ranging from distortions to errors that reversed the meaning of Beauvoir’s words, as well as sizeable omissions.

A new translation was finally commissioned in 2006 by the holder of the British rights (see article). But now that it has been published it has come in for heavy criticism, too. This article by Toril Moi in the London Review of Books describes how the translators seem to have been inadequate to the task.

The translators stated that their aim, besides restoring the cut material and correcting mistranslations, was to restore Simone Beauvoir’s voice to the text. Professor Moi believes that they failed. The examples she cites show that they adhered much too closely to French sentence structure and vocabulary, apparently in a mistaken belief that this rendered the translation more faithful. Instead, it resulted in a text replete with false friends at the level of vocabulary, syntax, and style.

Followup to elements: Anecdote found

A year ago, I wrote:

I remember reading an anecdote about a translation of a major literary work in which the translator wasn't familiar with chemistry, didn’t know the names of the elements in the target language, didn't bother to look them up, and got many of them wrong. I’d like to be more specific, but unfortunately I didn’t save the article and could never find it again in spite of much searching. Does anyone remember the specifics? That translator would surely have enriched his translation, as well as gotten it right if he'd had a resource like “Elementymology” to consult.

I have found the particulars of this case in an article by David Mendel, called “Primo Levi and Translation.” Here are the missing details I couldn’t remember:

David Jones, like Levi, both chemist and writer, reviewing Raymond Rosenthal's translation of L'altrui mestiere (Other People's Trades) in the Times listed a number of words in Levi's works, which had been wrongly translated. In The Periodic Table the translator made up English names for the rare elements. As the authentic English names could be found in any dictionary, to invent them is unforgivable. These elements were, understandably, unfamiliar to the translator, but he did not look them up. Perhaps he was translating against the clock; it is a badly paid job.

The article is well worth reading on many counts. It discusses Primo Levi both as translated writer and as translator himself.

Case study of a book translation

Language Hat alerts us to translator Daniel Hahn's new translation blog, in which Hahn sets out to document and reflect on the process as he translates Estação das Chuvas by Angolan novelist José Eduardo Agualusa.

In the third post, he considers the problem of footnotes in a novel. Language Hat's commenters debate the question further.