Most of us who read a new translation of an old classic, sometimes ask ourselves, which is the best translation available of this book. We discuss with our reading friends and fellow bloggers about the merits of different translators and translations. Frequently, a new translation of a classic makes a big splash and many times becomes the definitive translated version of the original. I remember when the new translations of the Russian classics by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky came out, they were received enthusiastically. Most readers felt that theirs was the best translation of ‘War and Peace’ or ‘Anna Karenina’ yet. I also remember when Lydia Davis’ translations of ‘Madame Bovary’ and ‘Swann’s Way’ (the first volume of ‘In Search of Lost Time’) came out. They were received with a lot of affection and enthusiasm and readers, reviewers and critics lost no time in saying that these were the best translations of those books ever. It makes us think on how one compare the merits of different translations and decide which one is the best.
One simple way of doing that is hailing that the latest translation is always the best. Because new things are always more appealing than old ones. A child always likes a new toy more. So a Richard Pevear / Larissa Volokhonsky translation will always score over a Constance Garnett translation. A Lydia Davis translation will always score over a Scott Moncrieff / Terence Kilmartin translation. A new translation of Franz Kafka’s ‘The Metamorphosis’ by Susan Bernofsky is coming out next year. It is already being hailed as the best. Of course, this way of judging a translation is not satisfying. The latest is the best is not a good or a logically strong argument.
Another way of comparing translations is to take a particular sentence from a book, read it in the original language (if we know the language) and compare translated versions of that sentence. And pick the one that we like the best. When we do this, sometimes we discover that the most literal translations are not the best ones or the most artistic ones. There is a Wikipedia page which does this with respect to Homer’s epics, ‘The Iliad’ and ‘The Odyssey’. Lizzy from Lizzy’s Literary Life did that wonderfully with a couple of German classics – Thomas Mann’s ‘Death in Venice’ and Jeremias Gotthelf’s ‘The Black Spider’.
Sometimes we might read a book and unexpectedly discover the author or one of the characters talk about a translator affectionately. It happened to me a couple of times – when Michael Harvey talked about Richmond Lattimore’s translations of the Greek epics in his thriller ‘The Chicago Way’ (I hadn’t heard of Lattimore before I read this book. I want to check out his translated version one day. The translation of Greek epics currently favoured by readers seems to be the one by Robert Fagles) and Dan Brown talked about Allen Mandelbaum’s translation of Dante’s ‘Divine Comedy’ in his novel ‘Inferno’ (I have a soft corner for Mandelbaum as I have read parts of his translation of ‘The Odyssey’ and liked it very much).
Out of these my own preferred way of comparing and analyzing different translated versions is the second one – comparing translated sentences together and alongwith the original. But most of the time, it is impossible or hard to do that, because we don’t know the original language and can’t judge how accurate or faithful a translation is.
I wanted to look at translations from a different perspective. Or more precisely, look at the translator more closely than at the translation. And as this is German Literature Month, I want to do that to the German books I have read in the past few years. My basic assumption is this. I don’t know German (Okay, I know ‘Guten Morgan’ and ‘Danke Schone’ and ‘Auf Wiedersehen’ but that doesn’t count.) So, it will be very difficult for me to compare two different translations of the same German book. Also, with respect to contemporary fiction, normally there is only one translation available. No one has done a second translation of Marlen Haushofer’s ‘The Wall’ or Bernhard Schlink’s ‘The Reader’ or Peter Stamm’s ‘Unformed Landscape’ or Elke Schmitter’s ‘Mrs.Sartoris’. Chances of a new translation of any of these books coming out is extremely remote. Maybe it might happen fifty years from now, but it is definitely not going to happen now. So this model of comparing different translations, though good in theory, is difficult to apply in practice to contemporary German fiction. So I decided to look at it from a totally different angle. During my love affair with German Literature these past few years, I discovered that there were some books that I adored, there were others towards which I was lukewarm and there were others which I was indifferent to. And I discovered that I tended to like books translated by some translators consistently while it wasn’t the case with other translators. I thought to myself – is it possible for me to look at translators that way? Is there a connection I feel with some translators, with respect to literary taste, than with others? Can I say that because my reading taste consistently matches with what one particular translator is translating, I can blindly pick any book that this translator has worked on? Looking at it from this perspective, can I say that I have a favourite translator?
I was quite excited when I thought about it this way. I thought it was time to investigate.
To start with, I made a list of German books I read. I didn’t include the classics (like Thomas Mann’s ‘Death of Venice’). I included only contemporary works. And I didn’t define what constituted a contemporary work before proceeding. I decided very arbitrarily and subjectively whether a book was a contemporary work or not. Then I grouped them under translator’s names and tried to see whether a pattern emerged. This was how the list looked like (it is not in any particular order).
Carol Brown Janeway
Mrs.Sartoris by Elke Schmitter
Crime by Ferdinand von Schirach
The Reader by Bernhard Schlink
Michael Hofmann
Unformed Landscape by Peter Stamm
The Land of Green Plums by Herta Müller
Shaun Whiteside
The Weekend by Bernhard Schlink
Anthea Bell
The Collini Case by Ferdinand von Schirach
Three Bags full by Leonie Swann
John E. Woods
Amanda Prantera
Michael Bullock
The Thirtieth Year by Ingeborg Bachmann
Barbara Harshav
Night Train to Lisbon by Pascal Mercier
Michael Henry Heim
Homecoming by Bernhard Schlink
Chantal Wright
Tell Me What You See by Zoran Drvenkar
Looking at the list, we can immediately see that the first four are all big names and they all seem to be translating a lot of work now. We keep stumbling upon them again and again as their range is wide. We stumble upon the others when we are looking for the books of a particular author. When I look at the top four, this is what I think.
Carol Brown Janeway – She translates from a wide range of works. (What’s with Janeway and authors whose second name starts with ‘Sch’? J) In the above list one is literary fiction, another is real-world crime and the third one straddles the fine line between literary and popular fiction. One thought which straightaway jumps at me is that I loved all of her translations that I had read. Every one of them. And unfailingly, all of them had big and beautiful fonts and thick paper. That is always an added bonus.
Michael Hofmann – Looking at the authors Hofmann has translated, it looks like he translates mostly highbrow award winning fiction. No crime novels or popular novels for him. I liked very much all his translations that I read but not in the same way as those of Carol Brown Janeway. Janeway’s translations had that extra little something.
Shaun Whiteside – For me, Whiteside is the dark horse and is the most difficult to classify. I adored one of his translations (Haushofer’s ‘The Wall’), didn’t like another of them (Schlink’s ‘The Weekend’) and liked another of them in parts (Drvenkar’s ‘Sorry’). He has hit on all parts of the spectrum and his translations seem to be a microcosm of the world itself – there seem to be room for all kinds of books there. But he has translated ‘The Wall’ and that is one thing that towers over every other book here. I think I can say that it is the best German book I have ever read. And Whiteside translated it. That is something. And looking at the fact that he has also translated Pascal Mercier’s ‘Perlmann’s Silence’ (which I haven’t read yet, but I love Mercier), I think there are going to be more Whiteside translations that I am going to adore.
Anthea Bell – She is tricky, like Whiteside, but in a different way. Looking at her translations, one feels that she is adventurous with respect to the books she translates. ‘Rain’ is an unconventionally bleak novel – though it has many fans I didn’t like it much. I liked ‘The Collini Case’ though. And I was totally charmed by ‘Three Bags Full’ which is a murder mystery in which sheep are detectives. She is a translator who surprises us with her unusual, adventurous choices.
Out of the rest, John E. Woods is interesting because he has translated two of Patrick Süskind’s works. I loved both of those books. He looked like a one author translator to me till I discovered that he has also translated Bernhard Schlink’s ‘Flights of Love’. I am keeping away from Bernhard Schlink for a while (after the disaster of ‘The Weekend’) but I hope to get to this book one day. If I like it, that will be one more feather on John E. Woods’ cap. Amanda Prantera, like John E. Woods, seems to be a one-author-translator. She has translated two of Marlen Haushofer’s works. I have read one of them – ‘The Loft’ – and it is excellent. It has to be, because it is a Haushofer novel. It will be interesting to find out which authors Prantera chooses to translate in the future.
The other translators are all one-book-wonders (by ‘one-book-wonder’ here, I mean that I have read one translation of theirs. Not that they have translated only one German book. It has more to do with me than with them. I apologize if you thought I was using this phrase in the popular way it is used) and though I liked all those books very much, I can’t arrive at any inference from that.
So, in conclusion, I can say this. I will read any translation of Carol Brown Janeway. I loved all her translations, though they were of different literary genres. If I want to read highbrow literary fiction, Michael Hofmann is the person I will look to. I will keep an eye on Shaun Whiteside, purely for the fact that he translated ‘The Wall’. If he can get hold of another book which is close enough, it will be a great day. Anthea Bell is an adventurous risk-taker. It is always wonderful to find out what she is up to. Anyone who translates ‘Three Bags Full’ must be a charming, fun person. I will also keep an eye on John E. Woods and Amanda Prantera. If I can add one more name – I am reading Jamie Bulloch’s wonderful translation of Katherina Hagena’s ‘The Taste of Apple Seeds’ now. When I finish it, I am sure Bulloch will be a wonderful addition to my list of favourite translators.
Do you like some translators more than others? Especially for quirky, subjective reasons like mine? Who are your favourite translators translating German fiction into English?
Not in German 😉 Luckily, I can read these myself… However, in other languages, I do have to rely on the help of translators, and very grateful I am too. However, for me, often the big question is whether there’s a British English translation available. Particularly with Japanese literature, I’m forced to read American translations which I don’t always enjoy as much as I would a British English text…
I have always been jealous of you for being able to read German, Tony 🙂 You are amazing! It was interesting to read your thoughts on British English / American English translations. I have noticed that Latin American and Japanese literature typically tends to get translated by American translators while French, German and other mainland European literature tends to get translated by British translators. These days many of the European classics are getting translated again by American translators. I love British spelling and so it is always nice to read a British translation.
I hadn’t given this much thought until recently, which means I wasn’t reading many books that had been translated. Lately I’ve been going with the most recent ones, but that’s because I’m out of my realm when it comes to selecting the right one. I need to learn more, much more.
I have discovered that new translations are all wonderful, TBM. I read the latest translation of Dumas’ ‘The Three Musketeers’ a few months back and I liked it very much. Hope you enjoy exploring new translations.
I’m with Tony – the big question for me is whether the translation manages to stay ‘neutral’ in terms of dialect or whether I’m suddenly whisked out of the country of origin into some part of modern America – it happens too often, and again agreeing with Tony, often in translations from the Japanese. I have enjoyed Shaun Whiteside’s translations, and Tiina Nunnally is one of my favourite translators of Scandinavian fiction, but I don’t find I can be sure that liking the translation will necessarily lead to me liking the book…
Interesting post, Vishy, and a subject that’s becoming more relevant as we all read more internationally. 🙂
Glad to know that you liked the post, FictionFan. This sentence from your comment made me smile, – “whether I’m suddenly whisked out of the country of origin into some part of modern America” 🙂 Nice to know that you like Shaun Whiteside’s translations. I have read the first part of Tiina Nunnally’s translation of ‘Kristin Lavransdatter’ and it is definitely wonderful. I liked what you said about how liking the translation doesn’t necessarily mean that you will like the book. It is something which makes us ponder.
British/American flavours can affect my enjoyment of a novel and for that reason, I can be lukewarm towards Carol Brown Janeway. I am also – and this is no surprise to the translator herself – wary of Katy Derbyshire’s translations. Nothing to do with language, more material. Katy translates novels with edge – edges that I sometimes fall off! 🙂 But we’re both celebrating this GLM as I really enjoyed her translation of Simon Urban’s Plan D. Anthea Bell is just magnificent, particularly when she translates Stefan Zweig.
As for male translators, Jamie Bulloch (and his wife, Katharina Bielenberg) produced excellent translations of Daniel Glattauer’s romantic comedies, Love Virtually and Every Seventh Wave. Stefan Tobler’s translations of Charlotte Link’s crime novels are also excellent. I’ll happily read more by both of those names.
On the subject of those Russians … I hated Pevear and Volokhonsky’s translation of War and Peace so much so that I abandoned the best novel in the history of time! Then I went to a workshop on translating Tolstoy and discovered that they are closest in style to Tolstoy himself, whose texts, according to the workshop leader, Jenny Erdal, are full of rough edges. Now that was illuminating – perhaps I wouldn’t find War and Peace so brilliant were I able to read the original!
Thanks for your wonderful comment, Lizzy! I learnt a lot about German translators after reading your comment. Hasn’t one of Katy Derbyshire’s translations been longlisted for the IMPAC Dublin award? I haven’t read any of her translations yet, but from your description, they look quite interesting. I want to try one of her translations sometime. It is wonderful to know that Anthea Bell has translated Stefan Zweig’s works. I have read only one or two short stories by him. I should explore his works more. I will look for Anthea Bell’s translations when I do that. I read Daniel Glattauer’s ‘Love Virtually’. I can’t remember who translated that. Nice to know that it is Jamie Bulloch and his wife. I remember seeing your interview with Stefan Tobler.
Interesting to know about that workshop-on-translating-Tolstoy that you went to. It is interesting that Tolstoy’s original work has a lot of rough edges and Pevear’s and Volokhonsky’s translation faithfully represent that. I haven’t read any of their translations yet. The translation of ‘War and Peace’ that I partly read was the one by Anthony Briggs. I loved the parts of it that I read. One of my pet peeves against the Pevear / Volokhonsky translation is that it came out a couple of years after the Briggs translation, but because of the splash it created (mostly marketing hype, in my opinion), no one is talking about the Briggs translation now. But I am going to rave about the Briggs translation and sing its praises when I finish reading it 🙂 We should always stick to the underdog, in my opinion 🙂 The second pet peeve I have against the Pevear / Volokhonsky translation is that though Pevear had next to no role in the translation (his wife Volokhonsky translated the whole book), except for checking for the correctness of the English spelling and dotting the ‘i’s and crossing the ‘t’s, he gets top billing and his name comes prominently before his wife’s name in the book and he talks about the challenges of translating Russian literature into English. I hate it when husbands take credit for their wives’ work. This has been going on for too long – centuries and millenia – that someone has to protest against it. I was surprised, of course, when I first discovered it – it was mentioned in an essay written by Orlando Figes on the Pevear / Volokhonsky translation. Figes didn’t complain about it though – he was praising Pevear.
What a very interesting post, Vishy. Thanks a lot for this. As you know, I rarely read books in translation as most of the authors I read are writing in one of the languages I can read and therefore my knowledge of translators is very limited. I agree with you that they often say the latest is the best while I don’t always agree – when I get a chance to compare.
I asume that a gifted translator is to some extent a rewriter and if you like their choice of words, the way their sentances flow, you’re more likely to like the books.
I am so jealous, jealous, jealous of you, Caroline, for being able to read most books in their original language 🙂 I liked what you said about a gifted translator – that he / she is a rewriter. Sometimes translations, independently on their own, are works of art.
A most interesting post!
I suspect that the reason ‘the latest’ is often judged the best is because the language it’s translated into may be more modern, more like the way language is used now than say, in the 1920s. (An obvious example of this is that today writing tends to use the active voice much more than the passive, whereas the more indirect/objective tone of the passive was more favoured in the past). I found older translations of War and Peace difficult to read but enjoyed the Pevear/Volokhonsky, and I also really liked their Anna Karenina.
Interesting what you say about the roles of joint translators: I think the combo of native speakers of both languages is a good one, because they can iron out the occasional clunkiness that occurs especially when the translator is not a native speaker of English. Living in Australia which is an immigrant nation we are used to English being spoken in all kinds of non-standard ways, but I do expect that any translation into English will either be translated or edited by a native speaker of English who can recognise when things are ‘not quite right’. This is especially so with idiom which is always tricky IMO.
I’ve read three translations by John E Woods, and I think he’s improving. I thought his translation of Buddenbrooks (1994) was a bit clunky, but The Magic Mountain (1996) was much better. I can’t comment on his translation of Perfume because I disliked the book so much!
I’ve liked everything I’ve read that was translated by Anthea Bell (four books). She has a very readable style.
I’m about to read a Quarterly Essay entitled Found in Translation by Linda Javin, a translator of Chinese. She gave a most interesting talk at a symposium I recently attended, http://wp.me/phTIP-6zF and I’m really pleased that publishers in Australia are starting to acknowledge the growing interest in translation. I have no evidence for this, but I reckon that it’s the international book blogging scene that is driving it: bloggers, and the lovely people who read and comment on blogs, are finding each other and discovering that there’s a wealth of wonderful literature out there that’s *not* in English!
Thanks for your insightful comment, Lisa. The point you have made about active-passive voice is very interesting. I haven’t thought about it before but when I think about it, old translations, especially those which came out before the Second World War definitely had more passive voice than active.
It was interesting to read your thoughts on joint translators. I agree with you that when two translators who are native speakers of the two different languages work together they can iron out the problems which can arise while translating. That is a wonderful point. I feel sad for Pevear and Volokhonsky (they got a lot of brickbats when their translation came out because leading writers and critics turned the gun on them – without good reason, in my opinion, because as you have said, their translation is excellent), but I still feel he should have put her name first on the book’s cover 🙂
Nice to hear your thoughts on the John E. Woods books that you have read. I have only read his translations of Patrick Süskind’s works and loved both of them. Glad to know that you feel that he is improving. Sorry to know that you didn’t like ‘Perfume’ – it is one of my favourite books 🙂 Wonderful to also know that you liked everything translated by Anthea Bell.
It is wonderful to know about Linda Jarvin’s essay on translation and the talk she gave at the symposium. Thanks for the link to that post. I will read it soon. I totally agree with you on book bloggers contributing to the growing interest in translation 🙂
What an interesting post, Vishy! Just with German, fortunately, I don’t have this problem because I can read it (same with English and Spanish), and I feel very lucky for that! In fact, I’ve become a bit obsessed with reading these books in the original, because I’m worried that a bad translation will lead me to dislike a book. At least if I dislike the original language version I know it’s “the book” (and which aspect of it) I didn’t like rather than “the translation”.
But of course, you can’t read all languages, and sometimes I worry that my obsession with the original language leads me to read less diversely. So lately, I’m making some efforts to redress this… but there are too many English/German/Spanish language books out there I want to read! It’s a hard life 😉
Thanks Bettina! I am so jealous of you that you can read in German, English and Spanish 🙂 I think nothing can beat reading a book in its original language. But like you have said, it is impossible to know all languages and read in them. I hope you enjoy exploring translations and like the translated versions of the books you read. Yes, with so many wonderful books out there, it is a hard life 🙂
This is really fascinating for me to read, being a translator myself. I know Lizzy’s wary of my taste and it makes me laugh – also, it makes me feel really lucky that I get to translate books I really love, even though I know other people don’t necessarily share my taste!
What’s interesting about Carol Brown Janeway is that she’s one of very few translators who genuinely hand-picks her work. She’s a publishing executive so when she likes a German book, she goes ahead and acquires the translation rights! So while most of us tend to do a mix of things we love and things that pay the rent, to some extent, CBJ’s literary taste is very influential.
Thanks for stopping by Katy. Lizzy was raving about your translation of Simon Urban’s ‘Plan D’ and so I am hoping to read it sometime. It is nice to see your translation of Helene Hegemann’s ‘Axolotl Roadkill’ on the IMPAC Dublin award shortlist. Best of luck!
It was interesting to read your thoughts on Carol Brown Janeway’s translations. It is wonderful to know that she is able to choose the books she would like to translate. It is a kind of freedom that we rarely have. Her literary taste shows in her translations, because they are from a wide range of genres and they are all on wonderful themes and I have liked every translation of hers that I have read.
[…] clutches). The winning post, which everyone should go read now, was a lengthy discussion on translations and translators and what draws us to some rather than others. I thought it such a thought-provoking post […]
Interesting post, and comments. I always find that if I’m thinking about the translation it’s failed. It’s when you forget it that it has succeeded.
There is always a temptation to think the best book was the best translation – recently I would pick The Radetzky March, translated by Michael Hofmann.
I strikes me that around filmed adaptations of novels there is always a discussion about which is best, as there will be a large cadre of people who read the book and see the film but there are very few who read in the original and read the translations.
But it begs the question, are many translations actually better than the originals? And if they are, are they failed translations?
Thanks for stopping by, Seamus. It was wonderful to read our thoughts on translations. Nice to know that you liked Michael Hofmann’s translation of ‘The Radetzky March’. I love Hofmann’s translations. I loved his translation of Peter Stamm’s ‘Unformed Landscape’. I found your question quite fascinating – if translations are better than their originals are they failed translations? Quite an intriguing question. I don’t know the answer to that. But I think looking at it from that perspective, I think a translator is an artist in his / her own right and sometimes a translator’s contribution to a book might be as much as that of the original author of the book.
Fascinating article, Vishy. I often have a problem judging translators. Usually I just go by how the prose sounds in English, but it’s not really fair, because it’s hard to know how much is the translator’s good or bad prose and how much is dictated by the original. I like your method! I haven’t really paid attention to translators too much, except to notice that every Portuguese book I’ve ever read has been translated by Margaret Jull Costa. She must be busy 🙂
Thanks Andrew. Your observation on how we like translations by the way they read in English is quite interesting. While I was writing this post I did some reading on the Pevear / Volokhonsky translation of ‘War and Peace’ and I discovered some interesting things. Many writers / critics / readers who were fans of ‘War and Peace’ said that the translation of Pevear / Volokhonsky didn’t read as well or as smoothly as earlier translations. And Pevear defended that by saying that their translation was closer to Tolstoy’s original and had preserved Tolstoy’s style, while the earlier translators had finetuned and polished their translations. I remembered that when I read your observation 🙂 I haven’t read many Portuguese books, but the Paulo Coelho books that I read were all translated by Margaret Jull Costa 🙂
I have to confess that I don’t read a lot of work in translation. However, I’m really intrigued by your analysis. I hadn’t really given a lot of thought to the specific style of the translator, which seems silly now that I think about it. If I look to read in translation, I will definitely look for the translators you highlighted.
Interesting thoughts, Lindsey. I hope you enjoy exploring the works of some of these translators.
An interesting analysis Vishy and how wonderful for you to have got to this place in your reading to be able to make such an analysis. I am sure there is validity in your surmise about Carol Brown Janeway in the same way that we are attracted to certain writers because of the way they use language and vocabulary, I guess it is the same with translators.
I remember reading Philippe Claudel’s book La Petite Fille de Monsieur Linh in both English and French, one chapter at a time in each language and starting to understand the effect of translation. In that case I discovered many phrases that could not be directly translated, that there is a certain amount of artistic licence given to the translator and I often found myself translating it myself, but in the way I would express it (or like to have read it) which I think is a clue to our response to translated fiction, we are looking for the same reading delights and we recognise them when we see them and in some cases we could almost write them. Obviously when we can’t read the original version we can’t see that, so we rely instead on the ability of the translator to capture something of that essence and perhaps we are tuning into their own reading preferences.
I discovered that sometimes beauty lies in the original language and no attempt to translate will ever bring the reader to that same rhythm of language as the original voice.
Loved your comment, Claire! I liked what you said about how we get attracted to certain translators, the same way we get attracted to certain writers because of the way they use language. I enjoyed very much reading about your experience of reading both the original and translated versions of Philippe Claudel’s book. I loved this sentence from your comment – “we are looking for the same reading delights and we recognise them when we see them and in some cases we could almost write them” – very beautifully put and very true! I also agree with you that sometimes the beauty of the original language cannot be translated. Thanks for this beautiful comment and for sharing your thoughts on translators and translations, Claire 🙂
Great article Vishy. It reminds me Yanfu (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yan_Fu), one of most famous translators in Chinese Language, and his Translation theory (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yan_Fu#Translation_theory), which quoted here to save your clicks: “faithfulness, expressiveness, and elegance”. This is one of the most influential theories, and practically used as standard to evaluate the quality of translation works, in this context, from English to Chinese. I guess the theory itself may be neutral though.
Glad to know that you liked it, Dop. Thanks for telling me about Yanfu and his Translation Theory. His theory sounds quite fascinating. I likd the three pillars of his theory – “faithfulness, expressiveness, and elegance”. I think most translators aim for faithfulness, as expressiveness and elegance are hard to achieve, especially elegance, because there is a lot of beauty lost in translation. Especially when translating poetry. But it is something wonderful to aim at and if a translation achieves it, it is really great. Thanks a lot for sharing this with me. I read the Wiki page and it was really informative and insightful.