While reading each page of Aura by Carlos Fuentes, I began to look at both the English and Spanish pages. I know a fair bit of Spanish, and was able to verify that the text that appeared on the left side aligned consistently with the text on the right side, at least with respect to literal translation. However, I began to think about the idea of translating a piece of literature.
My grasp of language is enough to understand most sentences on a literal level, but most idioms or metaphoric language would probably go over my head. This means that there is an amount of trust I have to place on the translator, that what they are conveying to me is the closest possible to what the work says in the original language. For some reason this thought caused me to be more suspicious than almost any other work that we’ve read so far this year.
Sure, for many aspects, such as the plot, there aren’t too many decisions that have to be made. However, the diction an author uses in writing a novel is integral in creating certain moods and tones. In this way, the translator may face a dilemma similar to O’Brien’s passage on truth-happening versus story-happening. A less accurate word to word translation might more accurately convey the “feeling” of the story. And yet, this means that the novel is heavily influenced by the style and choices of the translator, becoming something at least slightly different from the original.
One of my favorite authors, Haruki Murakami, is Japanese. All of his works are translated into English by one of three different translators. Over the course of reading his novels, I’ve come to identify and have a preference for two of the translators, and a dislike of the third. However, the fact that I’m able to distinguish the translators means that the work has become something beyond just Murakami’s work. Perhaps the differences in translations in all of these works are minor, and don’t truly change the meaning or feeling of the novel, but I suppose I’ll never know without having a fluency in two languages.
James,
ReplyDeleteI also find a dilemma with putting too much trust in a translator. However, this idea of translation is common throughout the whole book. Felipe was hired to translate the General's memoirs. Similar to this, a translator was hired to convert Fuentes' book from Spanish to English. Just as we observed Felipe believing that he could improve the memoirs, perhaps the translator believed he could improve Fuentes' novel. Maybe having a muddled translation was another intended subtlety from Fuentes in order to further blur the reader’s thoughts. Either way, Janelle pointed out how there are some tense changes in the book that, when translated to English, can provide difficulty to the reader. No matter the case, a translation from Spanish to English compromises the original language intended by the author and can provide another form of interpretation.
Thanks for sharing, James!
I also found this interesting when we were talking about it in class on Wednesday. I think the fact that the book has been translated adds one more level of manipulation. First, you have the original author trying to make you feel a certain way. Next, is the translators interpretation of the book and how he thinks you should be manipulated (hopefully according to the author). And lastly, by the writing of this book. As Dan talked about in class, the fact that this book is written in second person almost lets the characters manipulate you into feeling what they feel. So the translation does add another level to the book. The translator could see the book in a totally different way, and portray it in a way it was never meant to be. It makes me wonder if authors would turn down the potential profits of publishing in another country because they didn't want to compromise the integrity of the book.
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