Three years on the Parkbench

Greetings all, and hope you're marking Bloomsday with something appropriately meaty and literary.

Bloomsday 2011 marks Parkbench's third birthday, and for the occasion, I'd like to redirect you to SelfMadeHero's blog guest post by yours truly for a bit of chat about the ups and downs of translating graphic novels, particularly BLACK PATHS by David B., out from SelfMadeHero on 30 June at the London launch party, to which you're all invited.

While you're there, check out our other 2011 titles: the wildly successful Cuban love story, Chico & Rita, translated by Howard Curtis, and Baby's in Black, a Beatles fan must, translated by Michael Waaler.

Challenge to literary translation no. 4,729: reviewing

[Update: the post below was written on 28 March. On 14 April, I attended a seminar called ‘Lost in Journalism: The Reviewing of Literature in Translation’ in the Literary Translation Centre at London Book Fair.

The first speaker was Financial Times reviewer, translator Ángel Gurría-Quintana, and the first thing he did was to pick up a copy of Why Translation Matters by Edith Grossman and read many of the passages quoted below to groans from the audience. Gratifying, yes, but what's more, in the course of the hour-long panel discussion, we actually succeeded in outlining an approach to reviewing literature in translation that empowered reviewers who could not read the text in its original language to review the work they had been assigned as a piece of literature in itself. Daniel Hahn’s piece, dated today but quoted at the event, handles the key aspects of this discussion with grace and backbone, and is a useful starting point for any reviewers with practical questions about how to go about reviewing translation.]

***

Like everyone else on the reading planet, my nightstand, office shelves and living room groan with unread books I must get around to... just after I finish the five I’ve got on the hop at the moment. Every couple of months, I’ll have a review to do, which means putting the pile on hold for a couple of days and getting on with the assignment at hand. This past week, the Venn diagram lined up nicely with Edith Grossman’s Why Translation Matters (Yale, 2010). Predictably enough, many of the books in the pile are translation-related; sadly, please note, few of my review books ever are.

So, I was particularly happy to review this (now in paperback – the pile copy was the hardback, eek). I didn’t hesitate to give it a good review; it’s an excellent book by a world-class translator, and it’s part of a well-conceived and -edited series. More to the point for this reviewer/translator, it’s a clear, concise introduction to some of the biggest and longest-standing issues for translators.

Obviously enough, none of what’s outlined in Why Translation Matters will be news to translators. It should, however, be mandatory reading for anyone who commissions or reads literature in translation. Grossman spells out clear, reasoned arguments in support of the publication of more literature in translation and getting more recognition for translators and their creative work. She also works wonders explaining the excitement and frustration of her art in practice with examples from Spanish poetry.

I had heard through the translation grapevine, however, that there were bones to be picked with Grossman’s volume on the issue of reviewing itself. I don’t pay a lot of heed to the translation grapevine, because like most industry gossip mills, it fuels a lot of ill-will and time-wasting.

This was a mistake, but at least I had a feeling for what was coming.

There’s another group, besides the publishers who won’t publish translation and the readers who won’t read it, who get it in the neck from Grossman: reviewers. Her objection is one I share.

It is wrong to omit a credit for the translator in a review of a translated book, and many reputable papers and magazines do just that. Quite simply, it misleads the public. To cite the translator and fail to describe the quality of the writing in English is, well, bizarre when you think about it.

This is where Grossman starts to lose me, and it is here that I must declare an interest. I review literature in translation, and I have fallen afoul both as reviewer and reviewee of the practices of papers regarding crediting the translator. My very first review in 2003 was of an English-language translation of Italo Svevo’s The Hoax. To my eternal shame, I didn’t credit the translator, the wildly impressive and well-established J. G. Nichols. (I came out recently to this effect to Susan Bernofsky in a conversation on this issue on Twitter.) I can’t remember why I didn’t, but you can be sure that one of my favourite university professors picked up on it. Scarleh, as they say in my neighbourhood.

Needless to say, I’ve changed my ways, and always credit the translator in my reviews. Indeed, I try to include a mention of the quality of the English-language prose. Frankly, it’s hard to do well.

'Reviewers seem to care about translation even less than publishers do. ... In overwhelming numbers they tend not to speak substantively about translation or its practitioners, even when the book they are reviewing is a translated work. ... A very well-known figure in the literary world who regularly reviewed for an acclaimed periodical once defended the omission of any mention of the translation in his piece on a translated novel by stating that since he did not know the language of the original, there was nothing he can say about the translated version. By implication, he was actually saying that the purpose of any such discussion in a review is to perform an accuracy check, which is hardly the point, since any competent translator would already have made countless checks for accuracy before the book ever reached the publisher’s hands.' [My italics.] (29–30)

Having reviewed works translated from languages I don’t speak, I have to say that I sympathise with this VIP reviewer. I don’t agree that his implication is necessarily that he’d like his review to include a word-by-word evaluation of the translator’s abilities. I suspect that if he were able, he’d like to read both books and compare them in a holistic way, as reviews tend to be rather broad on detail and more in-depth in terms of critical analysis. Without being able to read the original and the translation, the best I usually manage is to comment on how the English-language text ‘reads’ – a contentious term in and of itself. On rare occasion, I’ve managed to find an English-language review or treatment of the original foreign-language text which allows me as, say, someone who can’t read Swedish, to glean some kind of notion of what the author’s own style is like, and then compare it to that of the translator. That doesn’t cut it for Grossman:

‘... some [publications] apparently require their writers to indicate somewhere in the review that the book under consideration has been translated from another language, and with some few outstanding exceptions, this burdensome necessity is taken care of with a single and dismissive and uninformative adverb paired with the verb “translated”. This is the origin of that perennial favourite “ably,” but I wonder how reviewers know even that much. It usually is clear from the review that ... most of them do not read the original language...’ (30)

Guilty as charged, and agreed about the ‘ably’. So what’s the alternative?

‘...the execution of the book in another language is the task of the translator, and that work should be judged and evaluated on its own terms. ... a significant majority [of reviewers] seem incapable of shedding light on the value of the translation or on how it reflects or illuminates the original.’ (31–32)

The majority of reviewers, those who don’t have the two relevant languages, are indeed entirely incapable of making any comment whatever on how the translation ‘reflects or illuminates the original’. So then we should limit reviews of translation to multilingual reviewers?

‘Even if it is unrealistic to wish that every reviewer of a translated work were at least bilingual, it is not unreasonable to require a substantive and intelligent acknowledgment of the reality of the translation. ...I regret very sincerely that so few of them have devised an intelligent way to review both the original and its translation within the space limitations imposed by the publication.’ (32)

I have trouble here with the idea that a reviewer who lacks the languages required should ‘review both the original and its translation’. If some have succeeded, what have they done right? I imagine this involves some combination of reviewing the content of the original and the style of the translation, but I’m unhappy with the idea of separating the two.

I’ve zeroed in on this because it’s a skill I need to perfect myself, and one I want reviewers of my translations to put to put into action, too. My most recent translation was reviewed in the Observer by Rachel Cook and in the Guardian by Justine Picardie. (More typically, my previous translation wasn’t reviewed at all.) In the Observer, there was no mention of my name, and there was no indication that Kiki was not written in English by José-Louis Bocquet. In the Guardian, I was listed along with the author and the artist, Catel Muller, but despite citing ‘the original French edition’ the reviewer made no mention of the fact of its translation. Indeed, when Picardie quotes Kiki the woman, she does so in English; the original conversation may conceivably have taken place in English, but I doubt it. (There’s an unedited version of the review here.)

Do I find this frustrating? Of course I do. It’s maddening to work on a book for months to have your work go quite literally unnoticed. But I’m a new translator, and I’d rather not be accused of sour grapes. If I’m honest, and I shouldn't be, I would have been only delighted with an ‘ably’ from the Guardian – so kill me. When I have a few ‘ably’s and ‘seamlessly’s under my belt, I’m sure I’ll grow to hate them too. I am comforted to know that I’m not alone in this, of course; as already discussed on this blog, reviews of Michael Waaler’s excellent translation from the German of Cash: I See A Darkness was hailed in awed tones for the echt (!), home-grown sound of Johnny Cash’s voice, as if it had been phrased by the German author, Reinhard Kleist. Infuriating, misleading, bizarre, you name it, but certainly not anything along these lines:

‘[Reviewers’] inability to [devise an intelligent way to review translation] is a product of intransigent dilettantism and tenacious amateurism, the menacing two-headed monster that runs rampant through the inhospitable landscape peopled by those who write reviews.’ (32)

Yes, reviewers, myself included, must come up with a better way to review translation, but there are a few realities to overcome first. Grossman says that she gave up translating poetry for prose because the going rate for translating a sonnet from Spanish to English was $7. Fair enough. I will receive €30, before tax, for my 160-word review of Grossman’s 160-page paperback ­– it used to be €60, but there have been cutbacks at the paper – and I’m to return the completed review in a week or ten days. I never know what I’ll get until I get the email, which I quite like, but it does mean that I can’t do research ahead of time. Sometimes, I’ll get £60 for a 600-word review.

So riddle me this; assuming I get a book to review that’s been translated from Italian or French (and not Russian, Arabic, or any of the many languages I don't read), to up my reviewing game, I would have to order and receive a copy of the original from the Continent, (presumably at my own expense), read both the English and the original, compare the two, and cover both in 160 words, for less than €30, in a week? Sounds like a $7 sonnet to me.

(For reference, the word count for the two paragraphs below is 150.)

I like reviewing, and I’ll do it despite the daft fees as and when I can. As a translator and someone who works with translators, I’m a good candidate to review translations. In fact, I may be the best candidate some papers have, and I still have no choice but to resort to the lame tactics to which Grossman correctly objects. What’s more, the papers I occasionally review for review more translation because I remind the editors with every email how much I like to review translation.

Failing an entire re-haul of the system, whereby readers embrace translation and want to read about it in their weekend supplements, publishers provide press releases with as much bio and availability-for-interview info about the translator as for the author, bilingual-only reviewers are given twice as long and three times the fee to review works in translation – what should we do in the meantime?

Anthea Bell on starting out in literary translation

It's perhaps a Parkbench first to do a post solely to direct readers to another blog, but never say never...

I often get questions from new literary translators about what starting out involves. From now on, I'll direct them to this:

Anthea Bell, one of the greats of literary translation, has done a guest blog post here. If you've ever considered translation as a career, read the post and know that her advice is coming from a pro whose work is admired the world over.

Horn-tooting, French food and feather fans: translation of KIKI launched in London

VALENTINE'S NIGHT saw the launch of the English-language translation of Kiki de Montparnasse by London publisher Self Made Hero, named as the Observer's Graphic Novel of the Month. [Horn-tooting disclaimer: reader, I translated it, and by damn, it was fun.]

Forever pushing the envelope when it comes to launches (last year's party for Cash: I see a darkness by Reinhard Kleist translated by Michael Waaler was held at the Institute for Contemporary Arts, sponsored by Chivas Regal), the Kiki Valentine's night dinner took the... cheesecake. Celebrated at Hardy's Brasserie in London's Marylebone, the atmosphere was distinctly French and enormous fun, thanks to the stripy-shirted Francophone staff and French-themed menu. Catel & Bocquet, the prize-winning BD duo made up of artist Catherine Muller and José-Louis Bocquet, were on hand to sketch and sign, respectively, and proved wildly popular with the KIKI enthusiasts cum diners in the packed-out restaurant.

In a personal first for this lifelong book launch attendee, and in true Kiki style, there was a burlesque artist! The divine Marianne Cheesecake was on hand for flirty, feather-covered fabulousness. I think it's safe to say that this improved Valentine's for many a gentleman BD fan, and indeed, that Kiki herself would have approved.

Dorothy Parker Factfile

So, if you haven't figured it out by now, yours truly has a longstanding affiinity for all things Dorothy Parker. For the reason behind the name, trawl the Parkbench website for RHJ writing small and purple.

Everyone has their special subject for Mastermind, and mine is Dorothy Parker –– or so I thought. I now hang my head in SHAME, and know that I am not the true blue Parkerite I once thought.*

I now can't remember how I came upon this link yesterday, but it stopped me in my tracks. Rarely do I learn something entirely new about Mrs Parker, but keeping in mind that I rarely get to the end of a biography that I'm reading for pleasure (sure, we know how it ends), I suppose this one passed me by.

From Bal'more's own City Paper, sniffs the errant Washingtonian, I bring you this sad tale with a happy ending.

No, go read it.

In the category of 'I didn't think there were any more reasons to admire the work of the NAACP', this is surely top of the list.



*That said, I was once mighty impressed with myself for catching a misattributed Parkerism in the pages of the latest hot book by one of this country's leading media lights. *pushes glasses up nose and snorts* Many thanks to Kevin Fitzpatrick of the Dorothy Parker Society for his back-up on that one.

OYEZ! OYEZ! Last call for entries in Harvill Secker's Young Translators' Prize

This just in from Harvill Secker's publicity department:

LAST CALL FOR ENTRIES!

Only a few weeks left to enter HARVILL SECKER’s

prestigious new prize for young translators

The Harvill Secker Young Translators’ Prize has already received lots of entries from budding translators - we are sending out last call for entrants to make sure no one misses out. The deadline for entries is 31st July 2010.

The annual Young Translators’ Prize will be presented to a translator at the start of their career and will focus on a different language each year.

Harvill Secker, part of The Random House Group, launched the prize on April 19th= in conjunction with Waterstone’s, to celebrate 100 years of publishing quality translation. In 2010 – the inaugural year – the chosen language is Spanish and entrants will be asked to translate ‘El hachazo’, a short story by the Argentine writer Matías Néspolo.

The short story and details on how to enter can be found at

www.harvillseckeryoungtranslatorsprize.com. The prize is open to anyone between the ages of 16 and 34, with no restriction on country of residence.

The winner’s name will be announced at the FreeWord Centre during aspecial evening event on 30 September 2010. The winning translator will receive £1000, a selection of Harvill Secker titles and Waterstone’s books.
One of the judges, Margaret Jull Costa (translator), commented ‘There are very few prizes open to the young, unpublished translator, who is either trying to get a toehold in the world of literary translation or who simply loves translating. All praise to Harvill Secker, then, for instigating this Young Translators’ Prize.’

The other judges are Nicholas Shakespeare (author) and Briony Everroad (editor). Prize founder, Briony Everroad comments, ‘I think translation is terribly important, and excellence in the field can often pass unnoticed. The aim of this prize is to encourage a new generation of talent, and I hope that it will provide a much-needed opportunity for young translators to gain wider recognition for their work.’

For more information please contact:

Sue Amaradivakara, Harvill Secker publicity

email: samaradivakara@randomhouse.co.uk

PARKBENCH TURNS TWO!

Parkbench shares the anniversary of its founding with an infinitely more important local event: Bloomsday. Today, Parkbench turned two, and Bloomsday was celebrated for the 106^th time. I would be hard pressed to make further comparisons between the two on any front, but, wearing my anorak, I do quietly enjoy the fact that a Dublin-based literary business was founded on a decidedly literary and decidedly ‘Dublin’ day.

Without sounding too much like an annual report, it has been a tough year for publishing, and thus for Parkbench. That said, it has seen a few important developments. I got an M.Phil in Literary Translation from Trinity College, Dublin, where I met and worked with an impressive team of new literary translators, some of whom have worked for Parkbench on sample translations for a French publisher and a Greek film festival. We kept up a steady online presence, through which we found translator Michael Waaler, who did the wildly successful translation from the German of Cash. My own first full translation from the French was published just this month, The Hot Rock, and there’s another in the pipeline: Kiki, a graphic biography of Man Ray’s model and the toast of 1920s Paris.

Also through web connections, we came across Sorcha Grisewood, a Dublin native now living in Abu Dhabi, where she works as a teacher. She caught my eye on the Publishing Ireland website for having a Masters in Translation Studies from Dublin City University and for her interest in breaking into publishing. Sorcha now works remotely as a part-time researcher for Parkbench, exploring new possibilities for our translation work abroad, and she has been delivering the goods by email and Skype for some weeks now, and her work has been invaluable.

By way of diversifying, Parkbench will be a patron of the Ranelagh Arts Festival, a local Dublin festival offering an impressive week-long programme of theatre, literature dance, music and the visual arts in area venues starting on Dublin’s Culture Night on 24 September – so be there or be square!

So, onwards and upwards. Plans for the coming year include building relationships with more Continental publishers, and closer to home, with our many arts and theatre festivals across the country.

Keep an eye on the Parkbench facebook page and Twitter account to keep in touch about all things translation and publishing, or indeed just drop us a line.

All the best,

Nora Mahony

Translation Competition Launched by Harvill Secker

Harvill Secker, publisher of some of the finest literary translation going in this hepped-up commercial world, has done a good turn for young translators.

It goes a little bit like this: Argentina is guest of honour at Frankfurt this October, so they picked an Argentinian writer, Matías Néspolo, whose work is to be translated for their inaugural competition. Journalist for El Mundo, poet and novelist, Néspolo is renowned for the versatility of his style and tone. Fellow blogger Juan Pomponi does a nice run-down of his most recent work (Sp) if you'd like to get a handle on the author.

The job at hand is to translate one of his short stories, and the prize? £1,000.

Harvill Secker editor and competition judge Briony Everroad is very excited about the competition, and we were keen to get her take on this new venture:

‘Harvill Secker specialises in publishing international writing, and in our centenary year we decided to launch a prize to celebrate the wonderful work of translators. Around half of our list is comprised of works written in languages other than English, and it would not be possible to publish these books without translators. It’s a terribly important art, and excellence in the field can often pass unnoticed. The aim of this prize is to encourage a new generation of talent, and I hope that it will provide a much-needed opportunity for young translators to gain wider recognition for their work.’

I don't know about you, but one word leaps out of this quote for me: ART. OK, so translation is Harvill Secker's stock and trade, but it's refreshing to see it recognised as a creative talent.

As for that 'new generation of talent', translators aged 16 to 34 are encouraged to send in their translations by 31 July 2010. All details, entry form and Spanish-language text available here.

Tim Parks on the Dumbing-down of International Fiction

Tim Parks' article this week in the New York Review of Books blog, 'The Dull New Global Novel' has been making the rounds on Book2Book and through the translation and publishing Twitterati. Parks makes a noteworthy observation on contemporary writers avoiding terms, expressions and even character names that might be hard for translators to work with, or for foreign readers to understand from a cultural standpoint. Such a fear of foreignization (in the translation theory sense) is of course worrying, and would, if left unchecked, create a very bland 'world lit' altogether.

The thought of writers consciously depriving their own native readers of shared cultural references is to my mind grim, as is the assumption that an international readership couldn't somehow keep up with all the reference tools we now have at our fingertips. It is, after all, the author's creative choice to hedge his bets in this way, and the publishers' choice to encourage it.

Because ultimately, this is a debate for, by and about publishing insiders, not readers. I wonder about statements like this, on the effect of near-simultaneous publication in multiple languages:

Thus a reader picking up a copy of Dan Brown’s The Lost Symbol, or the latest Harry Potter, or indeed a work by Umberto Eco, or Haruki Murakami, or Ian McEwan, does so in the knowledge that this same work is being read now, all over the world. Buying the book, a reader becomes part of an international community. This perception adds to the book’s attraction.

I think that this is a prime example of the publishing world losing touch with the reading public. I seriously doubt that most readers of commercial or literary fiction in translation ever think about their latest purchase being read around the world. Precious few are likely to give the success of the book in its home market a passing thought, unless they have a particular connection with that country, in which case they'd likely be reading it in the original language anyway.

Besides, as Parks himself says, international success (not the success of the book in its home market) is the mark of truly having made it in publishing:

In recent months authors in Germany, France and Italy—all countries with large and well-established national readerships—have expressed to me their disappointment at not having found an English language publisher for their works; interestingly, they complain that this failure reflects back on their prestige in their home country: if people don’t want you elsewhere you can’t be that good.

Interestingly, it's not quite clear who these 'people' are; only the publishers and the authors (as informed by their publishers and agents) are mentioned here, and because selling books is their business, their disappointment is in part fuelled by a desire to improve sales.

All that said, Parks' argument regarding the inflated importance of international literary prizes struck close to home. I was recently asked by Maltese publisher Merlin Library to consider the work of local author Pierre J. Mejlak, and as I worked up a proposal for a few publishers of translation, I noted with relief that he recently won a Europe-wide short story competition. All the easier to sell you with, my dear, I thought. To be fair, Malta is not France, and its national prizes (all of which Mejlak seems to have won) are unknown beyond its borders. Equally, to successfully promote just one author from such a small country would do wonders for its literature as a whole, and help to support its publishing industry. Though the national literary world may be best positioned to judge its own authors, if we don't know that world, why should we heed its judgements? Perhaps I'm a dirty pragmatist, but as so little literature in translation is sold, I'd rather help to disseminate what published translation there is than quibble about how those rare sales are made.

Seasonal Freelance Perk: Snow Days

Parkbench does it in the snow.

No big deal right? Well, it depends. I have a couple of jobs on the go at the moment, and so I'm juggling deadlines. A snow day for my clients is a work day for me; I just put on a wooly jumper and walk down the hall. They're behind, or working away from their servers on laptops or Crackberries, or they managed to get into the office, but the boss didn't, or the production manager didn't, so they're stuck waiting for a signature or a file. They can't get to the post office; the courier's not working.

'Sure', says you, 'but they get a day off, you don't.' Nyeh. I get something better – I get ahead, with no interruptions.

I'll take my snow day when the sun shines some quiet afternoon.

Translator Michael Waaler on CASH: I SEE A DARKNESS

As previously noted, translator Michael Waaler's work on the German-language original of Cash: I See a Darkness by Reinhard Kleist was so effective that the sound of the man in black himself was said to ring off the pages. So much so, in fact, that the fact that the prize-winning graphic biography was translated at all went almost entirely unnoticed – but not, of course, here!

Said Waaler of the project and on finding Johnny Cash's voice (again) in English:

"I'd long been a fan of the comic, so I was really excited when Parkbench contacted me about translating it for SelfMadeHero. The level of dedication of all those involved in creating the English edition was fantastic and absolutely essential for what was in some ways a peculiar task. There we were, translating dialogue originally written in German for a huge American icon. On the one hand we had to remain as close to the source material as possible, but on the other hand, adapt it to its extremely distinctive setting. So, I'm really happy the comic's been so well received!"

What, you say? You weren't given a copy of CASH by your delinquent loved ones this holiday season?! Well, well, well. You might just have to treat yourself.

Parkbench's First Full Translation an Entertainment Weekly 'Must'

Achtung Johnny Cash fans!

Parkbench translator Michael Waaler has brought German graphic artist Reinhard Kleist's prize-winning biography of Johnny Cash to new heights with the success of its English translation. Published by indie SelfMadeHero, the translation of Cash: I See A Darkness was launched in style with a party in the Institute of Contemporary Arts, London, sponsored by Chivas Regal.

Michael Waaler, a British translator living in Hamburg, specialises in translating graphic novels for publishers like Carlsen Verlag, Yen Press and TOKYOPOP. (Watch this space for news of his first German-language comic from Carlsen, A Kiss from the Dark from Carlsen, due out early next year.)

Predictably enough, coverage of Cash in the US has been great. It hit Entertainment Weekly's 'Must' list, and was included in the San Francisco Chronicle's comics gift guide. In the UK, Michael Faber called it

'a tour de force'

in the Guardian with a big ole Kleist drawing of the MIB himself, and Stephen M. Deusner in the Express Night Out called the graphic novel

'the ideal medium for Cash's biography ... Cash may be six years dead, but the Man in Black is alive and still kicking.'

But the Parkbench prize for press coverage goes to the Financial Times, the only paper to mention the translator. Ludovic Hunter-Tilney, a man with the enviable title of 'the FT’s pop critic', calls the book 'seductive'.

'Enough with the blurbs,' you say. 'It's a graphic biography, so what does it look like already?' Want visuals? Have a peek at Esquire for some choice spreads and check out a video interview with author Reinhard Kleist:

The Man in Black and White from SelfMadeHero on Vimeo.

Christmas is coming, folks. Just saying. Too lazy to buy it in your local indie? Order a signed copy from Forbidden Planet, or in Ireland from Books Unlimited.

Parkbench: older, wiser and back to blogging.

Well, well, well. The intentions were good, the plan to blog was there, nay, *cringe* articulated repeatedly in print, right here, visible on the web for all to see.

Suffice to say, it has been a busy year. Moving home to Ireland, becoming self-employed, establishing a company in an under appreciated area of a volatile industry and completing an intense, year-long M.Phil at the same time did a fine job of filling all the hours in every day.

Four essays, six portfolio entries and one, full, annotated translation later, the degree has come to an end, and with luck, the new year will bring word of a good mark. Meanwhile, it's been back to properly full-time Parkbench.

I got my second Frankfurt under my belt in October, and had the pleasure of meeting some truly dedicated US publishers of literature in translation, and a selection of right-minded rights folk from across the Continent. Interestingly, all of the rights people I spoke to expressed their frustration with the translations they were using to sell rights that year, which I thought very intriguing altogether. This common strand ran through discussions with tiny independents, literary strongholds and commercial publishers alike, regardless of original language or genre. Some sought help editing their sub-standard translations, others hoped for a future budget that might provide for retranslation, but few were happy with the translations they had in hand, but time pressures meant that they were all they had to offer at the Fair. Any thoughts on this phenomenon would be much appreciated – comment below!

I also got to meet up with some friends from SYP days, who in turn introduced me to International Young Publishers of the Year from recent years, which in turn put me in touch with a man who might just need Maltese translators – but more on that later. Just today, one of the SYP crowd pointed me in the direction of this wonderful teacup storm about the cover of one of my favourite books, Remainder by Tom McCarthy, the UK edition of which I reviewed a couple of years back.

Meanwhile, I'm back to the editorial work in a big way, and looking for translation projects for one and all among the Parkbench freelancers. From the English-language side, I have a HUGE recommendation for Irish freelancers looking to work on their finances this coming year: banking, taxes, pensions, household budgets. Don't yawn! Truly, no one was more surprised than me. Email me for details.

I'm tempted to cram all our news into this one post, but I'll leave it at that for now! More to follow – really.

OYEZ, OYEZ: Trinity Translation Conference coming up

The second Trinity College Dublin translation conference

'Translation, Right or Wrong'

will take place on

Friday 6th and Saturday 7th March 2009

The latest version of the programme is available here.

Keynote speakers are Josephine Balmer and Lawrence Venuti.

The website includes a booking form;
further information can be obtained by contacting cato@tcd.ie

Contracts & new work

Well, it's been a while, but that means I've been busy and that's why we're all here, right? As a fellow freelancer reminds me, busy is good.

While it was all Dutch, all the time before Christmas, the new year has brought a lot of Norwegian work my way, and some Swedish. Funny how these things build in waves, but of course one successful translation rights sale begets more attempts. Sadly, the Swedish project, a non-literary job, remains unconfirmed – Parkbench's first and only interaction with the dread Current Economic Climate – but two full-length literary projects are confirmed and going ahead. Details on signing!

Made a Brazilian friend on Twitter, and through the meanderings that such interconnectivity encourages, found her blog. There (stay with me, now) I was reminded of PEN's excellent details for literary translators, to be found here. Listen up: PEN provides a model contract for literary translators, in addition to dos and don'ts and a heap of very useful bits and bobs for those of you who mayn't have a lot of experience in these things. OK, it's US-based, but it still gives you general structures and bare-bones information that is much the same the world over. I should say that from a Parkbench point of view, it's infinitely easier to work with translators who know a bit about what they want, and more importantly, what's reasonable to expect, and what they're likely to get from negotiating a publishing contract. 

I've also had a new kind of business – and I do like a new income stream. The Parkbench name is making the rounds in (non-literary) institutions on the Continent as a place to go to get your translation edited. This is something of a head-scratcher, insofar as I'm surprised, not being an expert in business translation, that there are so many translations out there that need fixing up, but I suppose to a point it's no different to a source text needing a thorough going-over. Some jobs are monolingual (i.e., editing an English version) and some bilingual (i.e., checking the French against the English translation). It's work that I enjoy – although I'd very much like to get in some editing of literary translations – but I'd love to hear from anyone who has experience of this kind of work, as it raises interesting issues for the translator who edits.

New year, new courses, new post

So as you may have gathered, the final months of 2008 were toughies. Enjoyable, but six or very long weeks of work and college assignments made this Parkbench very glad to get to Christmas in one piece.

The unfortunate thing about November and December was that they saw few of my efforts spent on translation. Work was all editorial for me, but some of our other freelancers enjoyed foreign-language reader reports, particularly in Dutch, a sample translation from the Norwegian for Cappelen Damm, and a very exciting full translation project, the details of which are still to be ironed out... more anon.

College, too, saw little in the way of actual translation. That said, we had an excellent seminar in which we indulged in 'translating' from fellow students' literal translations and a great little experiment along the lines of Chinese Whispers: English > Russian > German > English > Italian, etc. Another of our core courses took the form of an excellent lecture series (something of a lucky dip as we never got a schedule, but hey) with 'visiting' lecturers from across Trinity's excellent language departments. I enjoyed all of them enormously, despite having but two of the languages of the literatures presented. In no particular order, we examined the issues presented by translations of Catullus, Goethe, Borges, and Irish, Italian and Romanian poets, among others.

Despite this, the bulk of our time was spent reading primary texts in English or in translation and wading through literary theory. Though literature courses are always worthwhile for the translator, many of us wished for a more translation-focused and less comparative-literature-focused approach; our course is turning out to be much more a combination of the two than I realised, which is a great loss, I think, in an M.Phil that is but one year long. I had to work to fit my essays into the field of translation, but in the end was happy with 'Translator as Trickster' on the translation of magical realist texts Il barone rampante by Italo Calvino, Le Roi des Aulnes by Michel Tournier and O Vendedor de Passados by José Eduardo Agualusa, and for our theory class, a take on George Steiner's process of translation and how it changes the author's relationship with his text, using examples from the lives and works of Beckett and Kundera.

This last essay set me up nicely for my new option, Censorship in Czechoslovakia and Ireland, 1920–80, which I'm rather looking forward to, particularly as I will be presenting on the unusual historical importance of Czech lit in translation. This term also sees us with guest translator Peter Sirr for a course the doings of which will be posted here on a blog. Am most impressed. Have a peek there and you can read as we read. 

And with that, off to class!

Theoretically speaking, of course.

This week in college has had us plowing through the theory, both literary and translation.  Needless to say, we're much more interested in the latter, but as much of the theory is broad-strokes cultural stuff or 20th-century, I really feel like we ought to be able to make it work for us. The grande dame of the TCD Italian Department came up with a simple yet brilliant solution to the problem of how to make literary theory pull its weight for the literary translator. (Needless to say, this is more of an academic issue than a practical one, but bear with me, it is a degree course.)

 

The best application of literary theory is to the source text and its literary, historical and social milieu; in better understanding the source text, the translator will produce a target-language text more in keeping with the original. Too much attention is often given to the end product, and a sound method (note: 'a' sound method) is to use whatever literary tools in your arsenal to learn the most you can about your text before you do anything with it. 

This is something of a relief to an extremely international group wading through more than their fair share of theory with little direct return on their investment.

To this end, I'm thinking of focusing one of my essays on divergent translations of Joyce's Dubliners – taking Italian and French examples of a short story and seeing what the different languages allowed. This way, I can have a suitably theory-heavy approach to the Joyce, and let my languages do the walking, if you will. I might choose a different text, but to be quite honest, we're rather limited by ready availability of texts in the required languages.

I was thinking about hitting up my fine friends at the Ireland Literature Exchange for some copies of translations of Irish works hot off foreign presses, but we shall see.

If anyone has any suggestions of more contemporary texts which might suit – particularly things that defy genre or standard language – do please speak up!

Frankfurt, new clients and, oh, That One.

With apologies for the previous untruths about daily blogging re: translation. I'm a bad person. No, truth be known, I'm a busy person, and not as much as a night owl as I would like to be.

Frankfurt was a blister-inducing trip, studded with regular espresso and bumping into old friends. Ten meetings in a day and a half was good going, though I was shamed by the former chair of the Society of Young Publishers, now part of the fantastic SelfMadeHero lot with their Manga Shakespeare. He informed me with bleary-eyed authority that really one must do the hotel bar circuit by night to add to your boozing and schmoozing Frankfurt cred. He's probably right. Next year...

Meanwhile back at the ranch, and as a direct result of Frankfurting, we have a new client for translation. We also gained two further clients today (that's three new clients in one day, about which I am quite pleased) : foreign-language reads for a major literary imprint, and fact-checking for a well-established guidebook series.

And tonight, of nights, I shall be consorting with That One, and tomorrow, taking my second half-day of annual leave since starting Parkbench in June. That's right, folks: I will be up all night with the Democrats Abroad at an undisclosed location in Dublin City Centre.

Creole Chameleon Wives

Folks! I have just made my way again to Book Trust's snazzy-looking website, where Independent Foreign Fiction Prize winner Daniel Hahn is blogging his way through his newest Agualusa translation. The site, a sub-site on translation run by a very dedicated chap at Book Trust whom I had the pleasure of meeting some months before I packed up and quit London life, is a great resource of info on all things translation.

I first came across Hahn when I reviewed The Book of Chameleons by José Eduardo Agualusa for the TLS, which you can read a chunk of if you like. I was absolutely blown away, both by Agualusa's spellbinding writing, and by Hahn's translation, which was powerful and light-handed all at the same time. I've gone back to Hahn's translation of Creole and, soon, will go forwards with My Father's Wives. I saw Hahn speak in Hampstead Heath Waterstone's as part of a great translation series set up by a foreign lit fan on their staff who merits an honourary TA membership for his efforts. It was a rainy weeknight a while back, and a packed house. I was thoroughly taken aback by how young Hahn was, grumble... Also, do have a look at Agualusa's own site, of course (PT/ENG/GR/FR).

At any rate, please do follow along as he goes. Am going to come up with a way to work this into the MPhil. It's all about the Venn diagram of Parkbench and the MPhil these days, I'm afraid.

Joyce on the jacks

Nothing like leaping in at the deep end, I always say.

Today's translation mystery was a nice little chunk of Ulysses, which we started off discussing and in my case, attempting to translate in the wrong direction. I have no intention whatsoever of working out of my mother tongue into French and Italian, but that is precisely what this morning required.

Go on, have fun with this. I dare you.

Asquat on the cuckstool he folded out his paper, turning its pages over on his bared knees. Something new and easy. No great hurry. Keep it a bit. Our prize titbit: MATCHAM’S MASTERSTROKE. Written by Mr Philip Beaufoy, Playgoers’ Club, London. Payment at the rate of one guinea a column has been made to the writer. Three and a half. Three pounds three. Three pounds, thirteen and six.

Quietly he read, restraining himself, the first column and, yielding but resisting, began the second. Midway, his last resistance yielding, he allowed his bowels to ease themselves quietly as he read, reading still patiently that slight constipation of yesterday quite gone. Hope it’s not too big bring on piles again. No, just right. So. Ah! Costive. One tabloid of cascara sagrada. Life might be so. It did not move or touch him but it was something quick and neat. Print anything now. Silly season. He read on, seated calm above his own rising smell. Neat certainly. MATCHAM OFTEN THINKS OF THE MASTERSTROKE BY WHICH HE WON THE LAUGHING WITCH WHO NOW. Begins and ends morally. HAND IN HAND. Smart. He glanced back through what he had read and, while feeling his water flow quietly, he envied kindly Mr Beaufoy who had written it and received payment of three pounds, thirteen and six.

Obvious issues arose around terms like 'asquat', 'cuckstool' (except for the Germans), all the –ing terms for the Dutch were problematical, 'costive', and, well, by the time we hit 'the laughing witch who now', we were ready for a mid-morning drink.