Using Translation.

All languages have particular rhythms, accents, and ways to structure sentences. Often when reading texts that have been translated into English, it is possible to tell whether a text is a translation without knowing anything about the author or the background of the text. This is due to the writing being not quite fluid.
For example, this is an abstract from The Lover by the French author Marguerite Duras, translated into English by Barbara Bray:

We go back to the apartment. We are lovers. We can’t stop loving each other.

This is poetic prose. There is rhyme between ‘lovers’ and ‘other’ however the lack of flow and disjointedness makes it seem like there is something missing. There is a sense of absence in these words that comes from how the sentences sound. Maybe if it had been written first in English it might sound something like this:
We go back to his apartment because we are lovers. No matter how hard I try, we can’t stop loving each other.

I think there are three main factors that contribute to differentiating a translation from something written in English to begin with, none of which are entirely tangible. The first is the rhythm of the words. The second is the somewhat opaque feeling of telling and not showing. And finally, the third is a feeling of absence the text generates, as if the reader is disconnected from the text and looking at it from an outsider’s perspective. This combination of all three creates an aura of dissonance- of something being slightly odd or unnaturalised about the rhythms, sounds, and words used. These three factors are mainly what I try to imitate if I want to use “translation” or “faux-translation” in my work.

The first factor I referred to (rhythm) makes the texts feel sparse and pared down. The story feels spacious because the rhythm is suppressed or deadened. When written firstly in English, most sentences naturally have a beat/off-beat rhythm that is acquired effortlessly when speaking English fluently. In a translation, rhythm is often secondary (unless it is poetry) as translators are firstly concerned with conveying meaning accurately.

The second factor I have noticed in translation is contrary to the advice of first year creative writing lecturers- to show and not tell. Translations often tell and don’t show. They have an explicitness in their sentences and a focus on conveying tangible messages. This factor and rhythm informs the third factor of translations I mentioned-a sense of absence.

A sense of absence is created be sparse sentences and a suppressed rhythm. Although telling without showing expresses clarity (eg. Rudolph is angry. Her bedroom smelt strange.) I would argue it evokes a sense of absence because it is not descriptive. There are many things that are left out.

When writing, sometimes I use these ideas about translation in my work. All three of these elements, if used well can be effective and liberating in helping you find a different voice, bring a sense of absence to your work, and write using different styles.

Translation vs Romanticisation of the original.

In one of my classes at Uni, my James Joyce obsessed poetry lecturer commented enthusiastically on an English translation of a Russian poem by saying that if the language was this beautiful after it had been translated, what would it have been like before translation.

For some time I have been interested in the concept of translation. In particular, texts that have been translated into English after being written in a language other than English. I only speak and understand English, so I can only look at this from an Anglo-centric perspective with the limitations (but I would also argue benefits) of having a singular and unchallenged view of the English language. I only understand the text as a product in itself and not as a variation of the original.

My problems with my poetry lectures assertion is the fetishisation of the original, particularly from the perspective that English is not as beautiful as other languages because it is not a Romantic language.

If you can’t read the original, no matter how highly praised or celebrated it is, it means nothing to you. If the text is inaccessible to you, than it is worthless. How can you comment that a poem would be more beautiful in the language it was first written in if you can’t read that language. It doesn’t matter how beautiful it supposedly is if you can’t read and understand it.

A translation should be viewed as a cohesive product in itself as it is problematic to perceive translations as being inferior simply by default. There are several different methods of translation. Poetry, in particular, is not translated word for word, but by imagery and meanings. There are many elements of poetry, like rhythm and rhyme that would get lost in translation if the translator didn’t take into account these elements and try to replicate their essence when remaking the text into their own language.

Essentially a translation is a completely new text. It should only be praised if it is a good text in itself and not as being a complimentary or referential text to the original. My poetry lecturer’s inference that the original text is automatically superior is simplistic and completely devalues the role a translator plays and the ability for a translated work to have merit in its own right.