Okay you lovers of books about books. I finished Every Book Its Reader by Nicholas Basbanes before I got sick last week and let me say, it was wonderful (in case you hadn’t figured that out from this and this). The book is loosely put together, as it seems Basbanes’ books tend to be, around the general theme and idea of books that made a stir either in a culture or community or to an individual. And oh what fun! I think I added about 30 books to my TBR list and even managed to mooch one, a biography of John Adams by David McCullough.
One of the most interesting (to me) portions of the book was a section on translation. One of the translators Basbanes talks to is Robert Fagles whose Iliad I am finding vivid and engrossing. Fagles talks about translating that book and how difficult it was from the very first line. He said some very interesting things, like:
On the desk in front of me I keep two big books. Let us say that the first big book is the text of Homer or the text of Virgil, with all the lexicons, and the commentaries, and on the other hand–and I mean the right hand–will be a big book of modern verse, English verse, and I try to keep the two in tandem, because I’ve got a dual responsibility. One is to the ancient text and the other is to the modern reader. They don’t always work in balance, but I do the best I can.
Fagles said when he’s working on a translation he particularly likes to read C.K. Williams, Paul Muldoon, Derek Walcott, and Seamus Heaney. Basbanes also includes an interesting discussion of other translations of The Iliad before moving to talking about Proust. He also interviewed Edith Grossman for this chapter and Breon Mitchell.
One of the things I always wonder about with translations is how true they are to the original. I don’t mean word for word because that would be impossible and just plain silly to expect anyway. What I wonder about is if, for instance, Homer wrote in English, would what I’m reading be what he would write? There is no way to know for sure, I have to trust the translator. Breon Mitchell made a comment Basbanes that I find both intriguing and bothersome:
“The interesting thing to me about translation,” he said, “is that the translation is not only a reading–every translation is a close reading of the text–but every translation is a different reading of the text, too. If the same text is translated by three different people, it’s going to be three different readings of that text.” And not only is the translator a mediator of the text, he said, the translator is a “filter and a conveyor” of the work.
I used to think, naively, that the translator didn’t matter, a translation is a translation, the translator nothing but an invisible conduit. But the more novels I read in translation and the more I read about translating, the more I realize how important the translator is. The translator is not invisible at all, his or her mark is on every word, even every punctuation mark. I don’t like that the book has to be mediated, but barring learning a whole bunch of languages I have no choice. And suddenly the translator is more important than I ever imagined.
Something else Basbanes writes about in Every Book Its Reader is a program called Reach Out and Read. Reach Out and Read is a national (US) nonprofit organization that encourages early literacy by giving new books to children when they go to their pediatric exams. The doctors and nurses also talk with and give advice to parents on reading to their children. By the sound of it, it is a very successful program both in the number of doctors who participate in it and the number of (usually) low-income children and families who have benefited from it. I can’t imagine anything better than a doctor telling someone to read a book. That’s good medicine.
I think poetry must bear the stamp of the translator even more than prose. It’s nice when you get a writer like Nabokov who can translate his own books.
Nabokov, who was acutely alert to the perils of translation, divided literary translators into three types: the scholar, the “well-meaning hack,” and “the professional writer relaxing in the company of a foreign confrere.” According to Nabokov, simple human error is excusable in a translator, but the worst degree of turpitude is reached in a translation when a masterpiece has been “vilely beautified in such a fashion as to conform to the notions and prejudices of a given public.”
Nabokov As Translator
I like the idea of Fagles keeping a balance between the ancient and the modern — that’s a good image for what translating must be like. I sometimes wish I knew more languages so I could know if something is a good translation or not, or not need a translation at all — or even write a translation myself. Alas, that won’t happen.
I worry all the time about the translation I’m going to read. It doesn’t help (well, sometimes it does), in the case of Fagles, for instance, that so many critics have such strong opinions. Some people just loathe Fagles. Others can’t imagine reading Homer (or Sophocles, or Virgil) without him.
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Wow- Interesting feature of WordPress, or else Stefanie knows magic. I was writing more than what I would want to put in a comment so I posted the comment on my site and came back here to put a link to it, but WordPress somehow intuited that I was commenting on this post and added it already.
Anyway, the Basbanes books sounds interesting. I have seen some at the bookstore, but haven’t read one yet. Stefanie, would you recommend this one more than his others, or is this your first one of his?
That is a cool program! My cousin just had a kid and I have to restrain myself from sending down some books. It’s just a wee bit early for that!
I used to think that translators must be experts beyond reproach if they were published. Then I thought some were better than others. Now I suspect that some are equally excellent but just different.
Like Ian I often worry about the quality, at least initially, when I start reading a translated text, particularly if its poetry which seems especially hinged on not only language but rhythm form. And for poetry more than prose , different translations seemed to be more radically different. But, like Dorothy said, short of learning 3 or 4 more languages what can I do?
I’ve also wondered about critiques of authors who write in a different language. They praise the author for this or that particular quality or technique but is that really how they write? Would another characteristic come to the fore if one read the original? I don’t like headaches so I don’t meander too far down this road.
I really want to get hold of this book, but I haven’t managed it so far. I shall keep looking!
I agree;this is a wonderful book. Thanks to it, I learned about Elaine Pagels and her book Beyond Belief (about the Gospel of Thomas) which I’ve subsequently purchased and actually started. Every Book Its Reader is the first book I’ve ever read by Basbanes, but will certainly not be the last.
When I read a work translated from a language I don’t know, I tend to lose interest rather quickly if the English doesn’t flow in a way that pleases me. I realize that I’ve probably missed a lot of great translated works by giving up on them too quickly, but life is just too short. On the other hand, I have read tons of Japanese literature in English translation, much of which did not “please my ear”, but I read it anyway, hoping to fill in a few of the information gaps in my general knowledge of Japan’s literature. However, this experience seems to have left me less willing to go through this with another literature.
I’m also suspicious of translations that apprear too quickly. I suppose I expect the translator to pour over the work for years, trying to get everything just exactly nuanced. From the other side of the linguistic fence, when I recommended some beautifully written English book recently translated into Japanese to a Japanese colleague, if they tell me that the language is dull and boring, the story uninteresting, I suspect that this is possibly the result of an “instant translation”.
Quillhill, you make a good point, the author as translator such as Nabokov is ideal. But I wonder if he could be said to actually be translating then or rewriting his story in a different language? Becasue I would think even an author’s translation would be different from the original work, but at least it is the author making the changes and not someone else’s interpretation.
Dorothy, I found the idea of keeping a balance appealing too. I would love to be able to write a translation but I’m just not good with other languages.
Ian, it is difficult when there are so many critics with strong opinions about a translation. I first heard Fagles was a godsend then that he was devilspawn. Now that I’m reading him I find the truth to be somewhere in the middle.
The magic of WordPress Brad
. This is not my first Basbanes book. If not read him before this one would be a good one to start with as would A Gentle Madness.
I think it’s a brilliant program Sylvia and it’s never too early to give a child a book even if it’s one of those soft plastic ones that only gets ever gets chewed on
And I suspect there’s truth in your translator theory.
Imani, poetry does seem like it would be harder to translate than prose and more apt to go awry. You raise some good questions, but like you, I don’t like headaches either
Don’t give up the search Litlove!
Del, Pagels’ books are some of the ones I added to my TBR list. Are you liking Beyond Belief? I understand what you mean by “instant translation.” Those would most likely be popular bestseller-like books, or tend to be that. I like to imagine a translator spending a long time weighing the words and making choices so that in the end s/he can say why a certain word was chosen over another. Pleasing the ear is very important in all literature I think but getting it right in translation seems to be imperative, otherwise how do you know if it was the author or the translator?
Ah a dangerous book as you managed to add more books to your list
It sounds like the perfect book for book lovers. Now off to check out the Reach Out and Read program.
Not to burst any bubbles, but WordPress isn’t magic
— Stefanie just has trackbacks enabled on her posts, so it showed up as a comment…
I love Nabokov’s theory of translation, and it clearly worked great on his own books, but I found his Eugene Onegin, in which he put this theory into practice, to be a very poor read — and I think it’s safe to say that the fault doesn’t lie with Pushkin. Perhaps if I were reading the Russian and the English side-by-side, I would appreciate Nabokov’s skill, but since I don’t know Russian and probably never will, I’m going to have to look elsewhere for a translation of Eugene Onegin that is excellent in it’s own right as a work of English verse.
As supplemental reading to the “Nabokov as Translator” I’d like to recommend the review of Eugene Onegin that Edmund Wilson wrote in 1965. He rips into Nabokov with great vitriol:
The Strange Case of Pushkin and Nabokov
Also be sure to read Nabokov’s superb response, which is equally astute and angry.
Dangerous book is right Iliana!
Ah, Ted, now you’ve gone and spoiled my magic secret
Thanks for the additional Nabokov information. I’ll definitely be checking out the review and the response.
I need to add this book to my list obviously! I never used to think anything about the translator for foreign books–I just bought whichever copy was cheapest, but in the last couple of years I have given some thought/done a little research before buying a book that has been translated. It can be really hard to know how to decide which is the best!
Oh no! Another book that I must read which will surely wreak havoc on my wishlist! I just looked at the book on Amazon and wish they’d chosen a different cover for the paperback version; the hardcover one is much better. But that’s just the shallowness in me coming out!
I’m always leery of reading translated books as well – if at all possible, I try to source out which edition is considered the most accurate.
I never thought much about the translation either Danielle until a few years ago when some news came out to much acclaim and criticism.
I like the hardcover cover art better too Lesley. And yes, I gurantee if you read the book, it will wreak havoc on your wishlist.
Just reading the title of this post makes me feel like giggling and shouting out “Me too!”
I know what you mean Heather
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