Mac McKee – Snopes

If you spend enough time in English classes or just around books, you learn that there are a few canonical names: Milton, Eliot, Faulkner, Woolf. These authors’ works are well-chronicled and widely, carefully read. And since many of these greats have come and gone, their bodies of work aren’t usually getting any bigger. Being widely read in the canon is a bit easier when the old masters aren’t coming out with new material anymore. Rarely does a newly-discovered work come up to claim a place among the classics.

But sometimes we get lucky. Sometimes we receive a gift wrapped between two covers. Right now, we’re getting very lucky.

I read in a New Yorker article that Flannery O’Connor’s prayer journal is about to be published. Certainly, a journal may not as carefully crafted or audience-aware as a collection of short stories or a novel, but for writers and students of literature – and especially those who study American Southern literature – this journal offers new insight into the life and thoughts of one of the most important voices in American literature. O’Connor, a devout Catholic growing up and living in the protestant south, made her journal “a record of a Christian who hoped the rightful orientation of her own life would contribute to righting the orientation of the world.” Indeed, as excerpts demonstrate, this journal is a record of the writer’s reconciliation of her faith and her ambitions to become a writer. As her stories often do, O’Connor’s prayer journal offers to connect with readers on several levels: as writers, as believers, as doubters of any kind.

And that’s not all. Sometimes, lucky just doesn’t seem to cover it.

Just over a week ago, HarperCollins announced that they would publish J.R.R. Tolkien’s translation of the old epic Beowulf in late May. Tolkien’s notes and comments on the work itself and a previously unpublished story will accompany the translation. Unlike O’Connor, posthumous publication from Tolkien is a bit less rare than a blue moon. Tolkien lovers though (I count myself among them) and Beowulf scholars (I don’t quite fit that bill) will be enticed at the prospect of reading afresh Tolkien’s elegant, winding prose and read his collected thoughts on the world’s oldest extant English manuscript. Tolkien’s scholarship, which focuses on the monsters in the tale, is held in very high esteem, but that’s not too surprising.

Nevertheless, it’s an exciting time. Both Tolkien and O’Connor are in the Valhalla of writers, and new material just doesn’t come around very frequently. But how does this new material fit in with the rest of their work? How should we think about these writings, how do we apply them to what we’ve already read? What do you think? Have you heard of any new works from the old greats?

Take a look at any list entitled “100 Must-Read Books” or “50 Books You Have to Read before Leaving College.” No doubt those lists will include Candide, The Brothers Karamazov, Don Quixote, or Madame Bovary. All of these are essential pieces of classic literature. All of these were also originally written in a language other than English.

I’ve studied both French and Spanish for several years and have always remarked to myself the curious little inconsistencies in translation. These become different questions: why do they use the passive voice here? Why use the subjunctive mode there? Often I received the answer “because.” And though this answer is more or less acceptable for learning the languages, it doesn’t’ help when comparing an original text with its translation.

Having read both poetry and prose in original French and Spanish, I’m always interested in what little things get lost as they’re filtered through translation. While translation does communicate setting, action, and character, it lacks considerable capacity for communicating the nuances of a given language. This presents a problem: one’s native language is a barrier to the best understanding of great literary works.

That’s not to say English speakers shouldn’t be reading Maupassant and Tolstoy. Rather, it is incumbent upon the reader to discover where the nuances are lost in translation and to compensate for the deficiencies of the native language. Abstraction and metaphor rarely translate well; idiomatic expressions are often lost entirely. But these are the obvious limitations of translation.

I’m more interested in the little things, less evident but still important. To demonstrate what I mean why I think it’s important, I’m going to reference a book I know backwards and forwards: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. You could argue that it’s not great literature (I would vehemently disagree), but it is perfect for the purpose of this post.

From the text I’ve picked out three major kinds translation differences:

–Changes in person: In French and other languages, there is frequent use of impersonal expressions. In English, we use the passive voice less frequently. Instead, the translation usually adopts a personal pronoun, creating a more direct link between the action and the subject. In the case below, I think the change makes it appear that the action will take place. In the French, the impersonal expression lends an abstract feeling.

French: “Il faudrait les mettre les uns sur les autres…” (Literally: it would be necessary to put them one on top of the other…)
English: “We would have to put them one on top of the other…” – Chapter 5

–Word replacement: In lieu of a direct translation, sometimes a translation changes word which gives a more appropriate meaning in the new language. In the second chapter of The Little Prince, the English translation substitutes “rub” for “blink.” In French, one would generally say they blinked before something they could hardly believe. In English, we usually say we rubbed our eyes, just to make sure we aren’t looking at a mirage.

French: “J’ai bien frotté mes yeux.” (Literally:I blinked my eyes well.)
English: “I rubbed my eyes hard.” – Chapter 2

–Changes in Familiarity: This is a problem that, as far as I know, is unique to English. English lacks different versions of the pronoun “you.” In the romance languages and most others, there are two or three (and sometimes more) variants of the pronoun: one familiar and one formal, at least. The lack of this distinction in English can change the dynamic between characters in a story, especially if the shift from formal to familiar signifies a shift in a relationship. In chapter seven of The Little Prince, the eponymous character addresses the narrator with the informal “tu.”For most of the book however, he had used the more formal “vous.” As mentioned above, this change reflects their increasing closeness. In chapter one, the Little Prince uses “vous,” but the translation shows no difference.

French: “Tu parles comme les grandes personnes!”
English: “You talk like the grown-ups!” – Chapter 7
French: “S’il vous plait…” Chapter 1
English: “If you please…”

Translation is tricky. There are a lot of nuances to be aware of in both the original language and the new one. Skilled translation can account for most of these discrepancies, but if you can, it pays to read a work in its original tongue.

Breaking into the Literary Pantheon

Languages in Literature