A fascinating and disturbing article about the mangled translation of Jules Verne’s work. (And check out the comments, too – the bit about Hans Christian Andersen really sparked my curiosity – I would love to read the original!!) Translation has always been an interest of mine – how languages correspond, the troubles of finding a perfect match – but also to retain the feel of the work itself. For example, I came across this amazing article about translating James Joyce’s Ulysses into Chinese – written by the translator Jim Di. How to maintain the glorious sweep of that last “line” in Chinese? Watch how he worked it out. More evidence that translation is, actually, an art. I read Chekhov for years – since high school – in what I see now as a very stilted translation. I loved it – I loved Chekhov – but I found it VERY difficult to play, without sounding like a parody of “Chekhovian” language. It was a surface rendering of the language. It did not get inside the Russian – and try to translate the tone, and the energy – to MY ears. When I started branching out, recently, to try other translations (most notably Paul Schmidt’s – I wrote about that here) – I felt this prickling of excitement. It was the same thing, obviously … “I am in mourning for my life”, etc. … but it was made new. The prose lived – rather than sitting on the page, as some monument to a long-dead dusty relic. I think it’s about time Jules Verne was re-issued in a new translation. He deserves that, most definitely.
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Interesting article. I have an older translations of “20,000 Leagues” and found it painful to read. Can’t get past the fifth chapter or so. I’ll have to try again.
I wonder if this has something to do with why I’ve never been able to finish a Verne book . . .
Interestingly, the “glorious sweep” of the last line of Ulysses is partially due to the original simultaneous translation of the book into French as Joyce was writing it, chapter-by-chapter.
Joyce had originally ended the book with “… and yes I said yes I will.” The translator who was preparing it for serialization asked Joyce if he could add an extra “Oui” at the end, as the sentence, otherwise, is clumsier in French than in English. Joyce not only gave his permission, but added it to the English, thinking it an improvement.
As for Chekhov, I’m especially fond of Jean-Claude VanItallie’s translation of The Seagull – the classic translations (Constance Garnett? Is that her name?) of Chekhov just blow. And anything translated by Carol Rocamora. She’s good. Does good work on Havel, too.
A difficult craft, translation — I wouldn’t call myself a “translator” at all, but my fiancee and I did do the first and only authorized English translation of an early Ionesco play, and the difficulty in getting it right made me respect the craft far more.
I’ve also read recently that one of the reasons for the far greater love the French bear for Edgar Allan Poe and Philip K. Dick than us in the USA is that their prose has been IMPROVED greatly in translation.
On a similar note – I once also read – and believe this less, but maybe – that the French only really loved Jerry Lewis when a particular actor was dubbing him en francais, and that when that actor retired, Lewis’ later works did not go over so well . . .
Constance Garnett, yes. I don’t mind her so much actually. (The excerpt from Crime and Punishment I posted today was from her translation of the book – which is the one I’ve owned for years. It reads quite well, I think.) I know lots of people dislike her – but I read her Anna Karenina and also her Crime & Punsihment and Brothers K – and am fine with them.
A very interesting article, thanks for sharing, Sheila.
The comment about Andersen caught my attention as well – I wasn’t aware that his writing loses its edge in the English translation. I only know the German ones (quite a few were published before the Danish originals as he was so popular in Germany) and they are nothing like “fairy stories”, especially the “old” ones from 19th century. In fact, I always loved Andersen as a child (and still) exactly because he is NOTHING like Disney.
I’ll have to go back and reread some stories now…;-)
One of my favorite novels is Georges Perec’s ‘Life: A User’s Manual’ I like to think that his translator, David Bellos, is standing in the wings grinning while I, disguised as a sold out audience, give Georges a standing ovation.
I took a French Lit class once upon a time, and was stunned at how amazing Waiting for Godot is in the original French. (I hate it in English.)
I had the same experience, Melissa!
I am always grateful, for example, that I read The Little Prince first in the original French – even though I love it in English too. But sorry. You cannot compare, in terms of the sound, the feel, the sense:
“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
with
“Voici mon secret. Il est tres simple : on ne voit bien qu’avec le coeur. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.”
It just … the English translation is a pale reflection of the beauty of the original.
And not just the beauty, but the thought. The thought is simple and clear and true in the French. It’s still soooo lovely in the English – but … I don’t know. There’s a difference.
Like you, too, I’m so happy that I took a French class where we read a ton of Moliere – and I have to say: Moliere is obviously a successful playwright to this day in English speaking countries – but it’s very hard to get those little French couplets into another language without butchering the FEEL of it. I’m very glad I read it in French!! He’s funnier in French. Weird!
I didn’t get any Molière in my lit courses… I read a LOT of French poetry, then Mme. Bovary, some Camus, Godot – I think we read La Cantatrice Chauve as well.
I think I need to pick up The Little Prince in French – I haven’t read it there. (It can go with all my French kid lit – the first 3 Harry Potter books, Alice in Wonderland, The Hobbit, and my favorite – Madeline.)