The job search is proceeding at a frantic pace.
Apart from lecturing jobs, i've been applying for jobs on monster.ie and irishjobs.ie. The tefl.com website has yielded nothing to date. So i'm currently applying for customer service jobs using French in IT firms, through recruitment agencies. Though without holding out much hope, I have to admit.
However, I spent some time today writing to a number of French publishers, offering my services as a literary translator from French to English. A competitive market, indeed. But nothing ventured, etc.
There is apparently a renaissance of interest in all things vampire and zombie/ghoul-related, among teenage readers. Think Stephanie Myers and her Twilight series or the new American TV series True Blood, or Buffy from a few years back. So 'Le Monde des Livres' today reports that a French-Danish novelist, Victor Dixen, has published the first in a four-part series of French language novels, set in the USA, about a teenage boy with behavioural difficulties (what adolescent doesn't have behavioural difficulties?) who goes to a tough, prison-like summer camp and discovers he's a vampire. As you do.
And I thought: 'Hey, I could translate those books into English!' Of course, knowing my luck, the English translations are probably already well under way. But this French article gave me the idea of offering my services as a literary translator to a number of French publishing houses. So I have sent off CVs, detailed letters of motivation, and samples of my translations and my research. One can only remain optimistic. I have looked for an appointment with the DCU Careers Service also. Still also getting TEFL regrets and a regret today from Hertz Car Rental for a French customer representative, saying they had no vacancies, but the job was only advertised the other day on Monster.ie... What IS a guy supposed to do?
I suppose in recessionary times, to set up my own translation and/or English-teaching bureau, maybe in France, might be a positive step. And i'm still waiting to hear back from universities so I'm staying resolutely hopeful.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Annie Ernaux Review
Here is one of my Amazon review on the great contemporary French writer Annie Ernaux.
5.0 out of 5 stars Brutal, Unflinching, uncomfortable Honesty, October 12, 2009
By
Kieran Matthew ODriscoll "Kieran O'Driscoll" (Dublin City University) - See all my reviewsI have enjoyed all of Annie Ernaux's 'romans autobiographiques' in their original French, over the last few years, including the French original of 'I remain in Darkness', the rendering of a French title which literally translates as 'I have not come out of my Darkness/my Night'. The concept of the oxymoronically-termed 'autobiographical novel' seems to be championed by Ernaux and other present-day French writers. Over the years, Ernaux has written very intimate texts about herself, her parents, significant life events and about French society as a whole. In one work, she recounts how, one Sunday afternoon when she was aged twelve, her father tried to kill her mother. In another work, while she is undergoing radiation and chemotherapy for breast cancer, her lover comments that she is the first woman he has been with whose vagina doesn't have pubic hair. In another work, she and her much younger lover take photographs, on the mornings after their lovemaking, of the clothes, shoes and other objects strewn randomly about the floor of their apartment the night before as they passionately undressed and made their way to the bedroom. In yet another text, Ernaux speaks openly about her affair with a Russian diplomat and her obsessive passion and jealousy throughout their affair. But perhaps the most brutally honest and shocking image of all is that of the foetus which she flushes down the toilet as a young university student, following a horrific backstreet abortion. I focus on the foregoing images because what I most admire about Ernaux is her fearless self-revelation. She regularly shocks her reader. She is as controversial and as provocative as her compatriot, Marguerite Duras, in the extent of her self-disclosure. But does she merely set out to be controversial for the sheer hell of it? I believe not. Personally, she has inspired me to be similarly self-revealing in my own writings. So I have begun to write about personal areas, intimate spaces of my life which I would have previously considered it unthinkable to share. Dire l'indicible. Something like the late great Irish writer Nuala O Faolain in her memoir Are You Somebody? (1996). So if and when I write my own 'roman autobiographique', it will certainly be dedicated to, and inspired by, Annie Ernaux. I welcome this and other translations of her works into English, as literary translation helps to spread the important 'memes' of the highly original, thought-provoking texts of writers such as Ernaux.
5.0 out of 5 stars Brutal, Unflinching, uncomfortable Honesty, October 12, 2009
By
Kieran Matthew ODriscoll "Kieran O'Driscoll" (Dublin City University) - See all my reviewsI have enjoyed all of Annie Ernaux's 'romans autobiographiques' in their original French, over the last few years, including the French original of 'I remain in Darkness', the rendering of a French title which literally translates as 'I have not come out of my Darkness/my Night'. The concept of the oxymoronically-termed 'autobiographical novel' seems to be championed by Ernaux and other present-day French writers. Over the years, Ernaux has written very intimate texts about herself, her parents, significant life events and about French society as a whole. In one work, she recounts how, one Sunday afternoon when she was aged twelve, her father tried to kill her mother. In another work, while she is undergoing radiation and chemotherapy for breast cancer, her lover comments that she is the first woman he has been with whose vagina doesn't have pubic hair. In another work, she and her much younger lover take photographs, on the mornings after their lovemaking, of the clothes, shoes and other objects strewn randomly about the floor of their apartment the night before as they passionately undressed and made their way to the bedroom. In yet another text, Ernaux speaks openly about her affair with a Russian diplomat and her obsessive passion and jealousy throughout their affair. But perhaps the most brutally honest and shocking image of all is that of the foetus which she flushes down the toilet as a young university student, following a horrific backstreet abortion. I focus on the foregoing images because what I most admire about Ernaux is her fearless self-revelation. She regularly shocks her reader. She is as controversial and as provocative as her compatriot, Marguerite Duras, in the extent of her self-disclosure. But does she merely set out to be controversial for the sheer hell of it? I believe not. Personally, she has inspired me to be similarly self-revealing in my own writings. So I have begun to write about personal areas, intimate spaces of my life which I would have previously considered it unthinkable to share. Dire l'indicible. Something like the late great Irish writer Nuala O Faolain in her memoir Are You Somebody? (1996). So if and when I write my own 'roman autobiographique', it will certainly be dedicated to, and inspired by, Annie Ernaux. I welcome this and other translations of her works into English, as literary translation helps to spread the important 'memes' of the highly original, thought-provoking texts of writers such as Ernaux.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Open Access
I attended an interesting meeting here in the Dublin City University library this afternoon, about 'Open Access' to Irish (and worldwide) university research, including the DCU Online Research Access Service (DORAS). The chief Librarian, Mr Paul Sheehan, and Communications lecturer Brian Trench, both gave us a detailed talk on the nature and benefits of Open Access.
As a result, I spent a couple of hours this afternoon looking over a number of articles i'd written over the last couple of years, some published, others unpublished working papers, others submitted for decision on publication. I e-mailed some of these articles for possible inclusion in the DORAS respository, which is DCU's open access repository.
The advantages to us researchers of Open Access are several, e.g. depositing our papers, published elsewhere or otherwise, in our university's repository or in eventual cross-university repositories, increases the visibility and accessibility of our research. Papers stored in these repositories are indexed by search engines, and Open Access showcases our own individual research output and that of entire schools and centres within a college/university. Open Access gives us, as researchers, easier, quicker, direct, free access to research worldwide in our field. It conversely makes our own research more visible and accessible worldwide.
So I would encourage scholars reading this blog to check out these Open Access portals online, for different institutions worldwide, as it may open the floodgates to a wealth of new and relevant research material in your area. You should also seriously consider submitting your work to your college's repository, if it has one. It could be a useful scholarly networking mechanism.
Check out the DCU Open Access repository at http://www.doras.dcu.ie/.
For details of a project aimed at setting up a combined open access portal for all Irish universities, see http://www.irel-open.ie/ .
The librarians involved can advise on copyright issues in the case of each article submitted. Also, of course, entire theses form a big part of the Open Access portals.
Finally, here in DCU, DORAS currently accepts, from its researchers, a wide variety of types of research output, viz. journal articles, books, book chapters, working papers, research theses, conference papers, posters and presentations. So I emailed them a poster and a PowerPoint slideshow as well as a few articles, all on my PhD research. Hopefully, they may be included in DORAS in the near future.
As a result, I spent a couple of hours this afternoon looking over a number of articles i'd written over the last couple of years, some published, others unpublished working papers, others submitted for decision on publication. I e-mailed some of these articles for possible inclusion in the DORAS respository, which is DCU's open access repository.
The advantages to us researchers of Open Access are several, e.g. depositing our papers, published elsewhere or otherwise, in our university's repository or in eventual cross-university repositories, increases the visibility and accessibility of our research. Papers stored in these repositories are indexed by search engines, and Open Access showcases our own individual research output and that of entire schools and centres within a college/university. Open Access gives us, as researchers, easier, quicker, direct, free access to research worldwide in our field. It conversely makes our own research more visible and accessible worldwide.
So I would encourage scholars reading this blog to check out these Open Access portals online, for different institutions worldwide, as it may open the floodgates to a wealth of new and relevant research material in your area. You should also seriously consider submitting your work to your college's repository, if it has one. It could be a useful scholarly networking mechanism.
Check out the DCU Open Access repository at http://www.doras.dcu.ie/.
For details of a project aimed at setting up a combined open access portal for all Irish universities, see http://www.irel-open.ie/ .
The librarians involved can advise on copyright issues in the case of each article submitted. Also, of course, entire theses form a big part of the Open Access portals.
Question: is there a danger of repositories being used to 'dump' anything and everything, of variable quality? What sort of vetting mechanisms should or are in place to decide on what gets into DORAS and other such portals?
At present, DCU is encouraging its researchers to submit their work, e.g. articles, to DORAS. Overall, I do think it's a positive initiative.
Finally, here in DCU, DORAS currently accepts, from its researchers, a wide variety of types of research output, viz. journal articles, books, book chapters, working papers, research theses, conference papers, posters and presentations. So I emailed them a poster and a PowerPoint slideshow as well as a few articles, all on my PhD research. Hopefully, they may be included in DORAS in the near future.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Original Metaphors of Translation: continued
In a recent posting, I began to write about metaphors of translation. I now continue this discussion about metaphors.
While doing my doctoral research, I devised a couple of original metaphors of the translator herself. These metaphors are, for me, useful ways of viewing the identity and role of translators in general, but especially literary translators. In the first of two original, self-coined metaphors, I see the translator as a fused entity, a merging of two persons, viz. the source text author and the translator herself. This I call the Tuvix metaphor. I hope it will appeal to people who are fans of the Star Trek Voyager television series! In the second original metaphor, I draw on my background in local government law, to see the translator as being akin to the executor or executrix of a will. I begin by explaining the Tuvix metaphor.
In Season 2, Episode 40 of the American television science-fiction series Star Trek: Voyager, first aired on 6th May, 1996, entitled Tuvix, two separate individuals, Tuvok and Neelix, who are prominent crewmembers of the eponymous star ship, become accidentally fused into a single entity. This ‘merger’, which has created a new crewmember who decides to name himself ‘Tuvix’, has been caused by the ‘symbiogenetic’ (2007:1) properties of a collection of orchids handled by the two crewmembers in question.
The newly created individual appears to his colleagues to be a ‘strange yet oddly familiar alien’ (2007:1) who combines, in one new person, the memories, abilities and markedly different temperaments of the two people whose fusion has brought him into existence. Tuvix begins the effort to adjust to his new identity and settles into his new (only known) environment aboard the star ship, and while his fellow crew members become accustomed to him, Neelix’s lover, Kes, is simultaneously drawn to and disturbed by the affection of this ‘amalgam’ (ibid: 1) towards her.
Ultimately, the ship’s Doctor creates a means of ‘restor[ing] [Tuvix] to his two original components’ (ibid:1), so that by the end of the episode, Tuvok and Neelix have been completely reconstituted, though at the cost of ending the life of the hybrid entity Tuvix: the fact that the ship’s Captain (following the refusal of the Doctor on ethical and professional grounds to perform the procedure which will rehabilitate the two original officers, as it entails the execution of the syncretic being who protests his right to live) has effectively assassinated the hybridized, living being, constitutes the central moral dilemma of this narrative.
However, I also see Tuvix as being, perhaps, an unusual metaphor for the inherent fusion of ST author and TT producer which, according to translation scholar Theo Hermans (2002), is a fundamental characteristic of translating activity and its products, a metaphor which draws attention to the textual presence of the translating agent, alongside or intermingled with that of the original author. Translation theorist Cees Koster has also written an interesting article, published in 2002, concerning the textual presence of the translator within the target text.
My task in my PhD thesis, as a DTS researcher, was, like the Doctor on board Voyager, to somehow ‘separate’ these two individual identities present in the TT. For instance, I tried to identify how much of a particular translation was attributable to the translator's creativity, and how much to the creativity of the original author, Jules Verne.
Nonetheless, the crucial difference between a hybrid being such as Tuvix, and a TT or a translator, is, similarly to Chesterman’s point in Memes of translation (1997), that while translations do indeed propagate ‘memes’ or ideas from SC/ST to various TC/TTs, the original entities (ST, identity of the original author) do not cease to exist. Rather, a new fused entity is created alongside the original (source) entity, a newcomer which, like Tuvix, may initially be seen as ‘new’ or ‘alien’ in a TC, which may nevertheless habituate itself to the new form: and yet, especially to those familiar with the ST, the TT may seem not just strange or somehow disturbing, but also ‘oddly familiar’.
To further develop the ‘Tuvix metaphor’, the so-called ‘symbiogenetic’ (2007:1) qualities of the orchids which helped create this new humanoid in the TV episode referred to, are also features of translating, translators and of TTs themselves: translation may be interpreted as creating symbiosis between ST/SC and TT/TC, and between ST sender and TT sender, often to the mutual benefit of all such parties.
Memes, the ‘cultural genes’ which are ideas (Dawkins, 1976), survive across time, languages and cultures, based on their strength, usefulness and adaptability, and they are, through the medium of translation, replicated, faithfully (in theory or aspiration) but more often as ‘imperfect copies’ of the original text/memes/genes, to use Dawkins’ (ibid) Darwinian terminology. Just as genes are spread and multiplied by a replicator which is a living organism, so too are memes spread by the replicator of the translator and the target text; and just as newly (re)produced living organisms are not perfect copies or clones of their replicators, but are hybrid and original, similar yet also different to the parent, neither are translated texts identical to their sources, but are, rather, new, original, and a hybrid of source author and translator, together with the hybrid presence in the TT of environmental influences i.e. the multiple causes of translation. A single source text will continue, over time, to evolve and mutate unpredictably, just as living species and individual genes are transmitted and end up changing in the process. Around the World in Eighty Days has been translated in full, into English, by at least eleven different translators, over a period of more than 130 years, from 1873 to the present. Each translation of this same source novel has its own literary style and sometimes contains personal interpretations of meaning on the part of the translators. The ST novel thus evolves continuously in retranslation.
I now go on to briefly explain the legal metaphor of translation I have come up with, viz. the translator as executor of a will, prefacing this legal metaphor with a brief reference to the existing metaphor of the translator as an artist, a performer, e.g. of a piece of music. Here, the French term interprète seems apt. The translator who translates a literary work of art places her own style and interpretation on it. S/he 'performs' the ST work in the TL.
This performance metaphor is suggested by Williams and Chesterman (2002), when they ask if translation as a process might be viewed as being akin to playing a piece of music. For me, as somebody who has both translated text and played pieces of music (composed by others in a distant past), this is a ripe, apt image. A creative literary translator who does not feel unduly constrained by norms or regimes will provide a fresh, personal rewriting of a source text, in much the same way as a pianist may create a unique interpretation of a celebrated piece of music, pouring his or her own feelings and understanding into the performance.
Thus, the act of translation is a performance by translators endowed with differing degrees of talent, creativity and freedom – George Makepeace Towle and William Butcher are just two of many ‘performers’ who have individually, thus uniquely, interpreted Verne. How have they done so, exactly? And what is the reader’s evaluation of, or response to, their translations? These are among the historical and evaluative questions I tried to answer in my doctoral research.
The question I asked myself in pondering the translator's degree of creative freedom was inspired by personal and professional experience of dealing with the last will and testament of various individuals: could a translator be likened to the executor of a will? The executor (or executrix) is carrying out, or executing, the wishes or instructions of the deceased, as expressed in their last will and testament (which I liken to the source text). The question is whether the executor is merely a figurehead, mechanically following instructions provided by a will and by a solicitor, or a proactive agent making genuinely individual choices which will make a difference to an estate and its benefactors (whom I liken to the target text and target readers.) Depending on the particular circumstances surrounding specific wills, or specific translation situations, executors – and translators – may be sometimes ‘rubber stamps’ (though it is to be hoped that this is rare, especially in literary translation); at other times, they may make significant choices.
Cronin’s (2000) metaphor of the translator as nomad, in his monograph Across the lines, is echoed by Anthony Pym, when he refers to the translator as an ‘intercultural cause’:
Thanks to their material bodies, translators can move. And thanks to their knowledge of foreign languages and cultures, they can often move further and more easily than…those who depend on their translations. This could mean translators are never simply ‘in’ a culture or a society…
(Pym, 1998, p.172.)
Pym sees translators as moving, not just between cultures, but also between centres and peripheries, into power structures and through networks. Towle is clearly an example of a translator who moved between several different cultures, held significant power in each, and used his knowledge of foreign language and culture to translate.
This point reminds me that Jules Verne himself, in writing Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours, was drawing on several different cultures to create his characters and locales. It is interesting that the central character, Phileas Fogg, was an Englishman, and that the opening chapters contain many knowledgeable references to British culture. In fact, it was because of this that, when I first read Around the world in eighty days as a child, I failed to realise that it was a translation and that the author was a Frenchman. The novel’s point de départ seems so deeply rooted in a British cultural setting, that it became, for the child reader that I was, a quintessentially British work of literature which must have emanated from a British author. (During my viva, Andrew Chesterman revealed that he, too, had not originally been aware that this novel was a translation). This overt 'Britishness' within the French ST is a reflection of Verne’s intercultural confidence; many of his heroes and heroines do, in fact, come from a diverse array of nations.
On a darker note, however, this British flavour, combined as it has been with TTs which fail to acknowledge the ST, SL, or the translator's identity/input, also reflects the deliberately covert presentation of translation as something which it is not, thus willing the original author's nationality/identity, and the identity and very existence of his translators, into oblivion.
In sum, I would be interested to receive feedback from readers as to what metaphors of translation and of the translator are found useful, and why.
While doing my doctoral research, I devised a couple of original metaphors of the translator herself. These metaphors are, for me, useful ways of viewing the identity and role of translators in general, but especially literary translators. In the first of two original, self-coined metaphors, I see the translator as a fused entity, a merging of two persons, viz. the source text author and the translator herself. This I call the Tuvix metaphor. I hope it will appeal to people who are fans of the Star Trek Voyager television series! In the second original metaphor, I draw on my background in local government law, to see the translator as being akin to the executor or executrix of a will. I begin by explaining the Tuvix metaphor.
In Season 2, Episode 40 of the American television science-fiction series Star Trek: Voyager, first aired on 6th May, 1996, entitled Tuvix, two separate individuals, Tuvok and Neelix, who are prominent crewmembers of the eponymous star ship, become accidentally fused into a single entity. This ‘merger’, which has created a new crewmember who decides to name himself ‘Tuvix’, has been caused by the ‘symbiogenetic’ (2007:1) properties of a collection of orchids handled by the two crewmembers in question.
The newly created individual appears to his colleagues to be a ‘strange yet oddly familiar alien’ (2007:1) who combines, in one new person, the memories, abilities and markedly different temperaments of the two people whose fusion has brought him into existence. Tuvix begins the effort to adjust to his new identity and settles into his new (only known) environment aboard the star ship, and while his fellow crew members become accustomed to him, Neelix’s lover, Kes, is simultaneously drawn to and disturbed by the affection of this ‘amalgam’ (ibid: 1) towards her.
Ultimately, the ship’s Doctor creates a means of ‘restor[ing] [Tuvix] to his two original components’ (ibid:1), so that by the end of the episode, Tuvok and Neelix have been completely reconstituted, though at the cost of ending the life of the hybrid entity Tuvix: the fact that the ship’s Captain (following the refusal of the Doctor on ethical and professional grounds to perform the procedure which will rehabilitate the two original officers, as it entails the execution of the syncretic being who protests his right to live) has effectively assassinated the hybridized, living being, constitutes the central moral dilemma of this narrative.
However, I also see Tuvix as being, perhaps, an unusual metaphor for the inherent fusion of ST author and TT producer which, according to translation scholar Theo Hermans (2002), is a fundamental characteristic of translating activity and its products, a metaphor which draws attention to the textual presence of the translating agent, alongside or intermingled with that of the original author. Translation theorist Cees Koster has also written an interesting article, published in 2002, concerning the textual presence of the translator within the target text.
My task in my PhD thesis, as a DTS researcher, was, like the Doctor on board Voyager, to somehow ‘separate’ these two individual identities present in the TT. For instance, I tried to identify how much of a particular translation was attributable to the translator's creativity, and how much to the creativity of the original author, Jules Verne.
Nonetheless, the crucial difference between a hybrid being such as Tuvix, and a TT or a translator, is, similarly to Chesterman’s point in Memes of translation (1997), that while translations do indeed propagate ‘memes’ or ideas from SC/ST to various TC/TTs, the original entities (ST, identity of the original author) do not cease to exist. Rather, a new fused entity is created alongside the original (source) entity, a newcomer which, like Tuvix, may initially be seen as ‘new’ or ‘alien’ in a TC, which may nevertheless habituate itself to the new form: and yet, especially to those familiar with the ST, the TT may seem not just strange or somehow disturbing, but also ‘oddly familiar’.
To further develop the ‘Tuvix metaphor’, the so-called ‘symbiogenetic’ (2007:1) qualities of the orchids which helped create this new humanoid in the TV episode referred to, are also features of translating, translators and of TTs themselves: translation may be interpreted as creating symbiosis between ST/SC and TT/TC, and between ST sender and TT sender, often to the mutual benefit of all such parties.
Memes, the ‘cultural genes’ which are ideas (Dawkins, 1976), survive across time, languages and cultures, based on their strength, usefulness and adaptability, and they are, through the medium of translation, replicated, faithfully (in theory or aspiration) but more often as ‘imperfect copies’ of the original text/memes/genes, to use Dawkins’ (ibid) Darwinian terminology. Just as genes are spread and multiplied by a replicator which is a living organism, so too are memes spread by the replicator of the translator and the target text; and just as newly (re)produced living organisms are not perfect copies or clones of their replicators, but are hybrid and original, similar yet also different to the parent, neither are translated texts identical to their sources, but are, rather, new, original, and a hybrid of source author and translator, together with the hybrid presence in the TT of environmental influences i.e. the multiple causes of translation. A single source text will continue, over time, to evolve and mutate unpredictably, just as living species and individual genes are transmitted and end up changing in the process. Around the World in Eighty Days has been translated in full, into English, by at least eleven different translators, over a period of more than 130 years, from 1873 to the present. Each translation of this same source novel has its own literary style and sometimes contains personal interpretations of meaning on the part of the translators. The ST novel thus evolves continuously in retranslation.
I now go on to briefly explain the legal metaphor of translation I have come up with, viz. the translator as executor of a will, prefacing this legal metaphor with a brief reference to the existing metaphor of the translator as an artist, a performer, e.g. of a piece of music. Here, the French term interprète seems apt. The translator who translates a literary work of art places her own style and interpretation on it. S/he 'performs' the ST work in the TL.
This performance metaphor is suggested by Williams and Chesterman (2002), when they ask if translation as a process might be viewed as being akin to playing a piece of music. For me, as somebody who has both translated text and played pieces of music (composed by others in a distant past), this is a ripe, apt image. A creative literary translator who does not feel unduly constrained by norms or regimes will provide a fresh, personal rewriting of a source text, in much the same way as a pianist may create a unique interpretation of a celebrated piece of music, pouring his or her own feelings and understanding into the performance.
Thus, the act of translation is a performance by translators endowed with differing degrees of talent, creativity and freedom – George Makepeace Towle and William Butcher are just two of many ‘performers’ who have individually, thus uniquely, interpreted Verne. How have they done so, exactly? And what is the reader’s evaluation of, or response to, their translations? These are among the historical and evaluative questions I tried to answer in my doctoral research.
The question I asked myself in pondering the translator's degree of creative freedom was inspired by personal and professional experience of dealing with the last will and testament of various individuals: could a translator be likened to the executor of a will? The executor (or executrix) is carrying out, or executing, the wishes or instructions of the deceased, as expressed in their last will and testament (which I liken to the source text). The question is whether the executor is merely a figurehead, mechanically following instructions provided by a will and by a solicitor, or a proactive agent making genuinely individual choices which will make a difference to an estate and its benefactors (whom I liken to the target text and target readers.) Depending on the particular circumstances surrounding specific wills, or specific translation situations, executors – and translators – may be sometimes ‘rubber stamps’ (though it is to be hoped that this is rare, especially in literary translation); at other times, they may make significant choices.
Cronin’s (2000) metaphor of the translator as nomad, in his monograph Across the lines, is echoed by Anthony Pym, when he refers to the translator as an ‘intercultural cause’:
Thanks to their material bodies, translators can move. And thanks to their knowledge of foreign languages and cultures, they can often move further and more easily than…those who depend on their translations. This could mean translators are never simply ‘in’ a culture or a society…
(Pym, 1998, p.172.)
Pym sees translators as moving, not just between cultures, but also between centres and peripheries, into power structures and through networks. Towle is clearly an example of a translator who moved between several different cultures, held significant power in each, and used his knowledge of foreign language and culture to translate.
This point reminds me that Jules Verne himself, in writing Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours, was drawing on several different cultures to create his characters and locales. It is interesting that the central character, Phileas Fogg, was an Englishman, and that the opening chapters contain many knowledgeable references to British culture. In fact, it was because of this that, when I first read Around the world in eighty days as a child, I failed to realise that it was a translation and that the author was a Frenchman. The novel’s point de départ seems so deeply rooted in a British cultural setting, that it became, for the child reader that I was, a quintessentially British work of literature which must have emanated from a British author. (During my viva, Andrew Chesterman revealed that he, too, had not originally been aware that this novel was a translation). This overt 'Britishness' within the French ST is a reflection of Verne’s intercultural confidence; many of his heroes and heroines do, in fact, come from a diverse array of nations.
On a darker note, however, this British flavour, combined as it has been with TTs which fail to acknowledge the ST, SL, or the translator's identity/input, also reflects the deliberately covert presentation of translation as something which it is not, thus willing the original author's nationality/identity, and the identity and very existence of his translators, into oblivion.
In sum, I would be interested to receive feedback from readers as to what metaphors of translation and of the translator are found useful, and why.
Friday, October 16, 2009
Adaptation revisited: Verniana Article
Friday, October 16, 2009
More details on the Verniana article: more thoughts on Adaptation and Abridgement within Translation Studies
The article which I am currently finalising for 'Verniana', presents three different abridged versions of Verne's celebrated
novel 'Around the World in Eighty Days'. One is a Ladybird Children's Classics
retelling, in simple language, with numerous illustrations; another is an
abridged version for adolescent readers, while the third is a version written
to meet the language learning needs of non-native students of English as
a Foreign Language.
I consider the patterns of abridgment and adaptation of the original novel,
and offer many examples of the actual, empirically observed features of these
shortened versions, e.g. simplified language in some cases, simplified or altered character
portrayal, altered narrative technique, and so on. I ask what are the underlying,
multiple causal influences of the changes? What are the functions and effects
of these adaptations (skopostheorie and reception theory). The skopos or
goal of the adaptation, as the final cause, may be a primary cause of the
forms of abridged translations, but other multiple causes are also at work,
e.g. the agency of the individual translator/adapter, norms of appropriate
content, language level, and so on.
Can these adapted versions be regarded as 'translations' in the same way
as the more conventional, complete and unabridged, inter-lingual renderings
of original works? Thus, the ontological debate as to what constitutes 'translation'
is brought into sharper relief when we consider the question of abridgment
and simplification for particular segments of readers ('superaddressees')
with well-defined needs and expectations.
I ask also whether simplified versions of classic literature are a useful,
welcome, valuable means of introducing younger readers to celebrated authors
such as Jules Verne,
and to his now canonized works of literature? Or are they 'unfaithful' 'deformations'
of such great literary works? This speculation is fundamental and long-standing
within Translation Studies and Comparative Literature: are adapted versions
entropic, or could they rather be, to use Cronin's (2006) term, 'negentropic',
i.e. is there translation 'gain' rather than 'loss' when an original (source)
text as written by Verne, is re-presented in a new, different, diverse form?
The question of negentropy
can be applied to all types of adaptations, e.g. film versions of novels,
television adaptations, and generally, to all translation, even when it is
claimed to somehow traduce, or be inferior to, a great original. If literary
translations in general have been, in the past, misprized by some literary
comparatists, then adaptations have been particularly frowned upon. I argue
in this paper that not alone is conventional literary translation a legitimate
and valuable means of accessing an original work, but also that abridged
literature, be it intra- or inter-lingually adapted, contributes something
new and original to the source text/source author.
These Verne adapted versions,
for instance, give younger readers their first introduction to Verne's work,
and, when they are older, they may be enticed by these simplified versions
to read the complete original, be it in the source or a target language.
I thus see adaptation as a positive phenomenon. It creates new cultural forms.
It fosters diversity. It does not involve 'transformative loss' (Cronin,
2006: 127) but, rather, initiates younger readers to the joy of literature.
Diversity is welcome. It does not devalue, but enhances the original, which
gains, not loses, through its adaptations. A similar role of initiation,
diversity and gain is performed by film versions, stage musical adaptations
of classic novels, and so on. Adaptation 'keeps the classics alive' (Oittinen,
1993: 87) and builds a bridge between the source text and diverse groups
of readers/consumers.
Finally, I will consider proposals by translation scholars such as Delabastita
(2008), that the time may be opportune for Translation Studies to reconsider
its sometimes fixed, static conceptions of its object of study. I argue that
the study of abridged versions and of other, non-traditional/non-prototypical
forms of translations, may help our discipline to open up its object(s) of
enquiry to a much wider variety of textual manifestations of inter- and intra-lingual
transmission. Thus, all sorts of textual versions such as retellings, rewritings,
cinematic adaptations, theatrical versions, and so on, seem to merit the
ongoing attention of translation scholars, in tandem with film, literary
and cultural studies scholars. These texts include the three Verne
abridgments which are put under the microscope in this paper. I will argue
and seek to show by examples that they are indeed valid Verne 'translations',
notwithstanding
the differing status labels attached to them, and despite their various features
and possible origins. Furthermore, I argue that adaptation and 'conventional'
translation (unabridged) should not be seen as separate issues: they both
involve similar trends of simplification, concision, reduction, omission
and interpretation. The distinction (between adaptations and prototypical
translations) is quantitative rather than qualitative.
novel 'Around the World in Eighty Days'. One is a Ladybird Children's Classics
retelling, in simple language, with numerous illustrations; another is an
abridged version for adolescent readers, while the third is a version written
to meet the language learning needs of non-native students of English as
a Foreign Language.
I consider the patterns of abridgment and adaptation of the original novel,
and offer many examples of the actual, empirically observed features of these
shortened versions, e.g. simplified language in some cases, simplified or altered character
portrayal, altered narrative technique, and so on. I ask what are the underlying,
multiple causal influences of the changes? What are the functions and effects
of these adaptations (skopostheorie and reception theory). The skopos or
goal of the adaptation, as the final cause, may be a primary cause of the
forms of abridged translations, but other multiple causes are also at work,
e.g. the agency of the individual translator/adapter, norms of appropriate
content, language level, and so on.
Can these adapted versions be regarded as 'translations' in the same way
as the more conventional, complete and unabridged, inter-lingual renderings
of original works? Thus, the ontological debate as to what constitutes 'translation'
is brought into sharper relief when we consider the question of abridgment
and simplification for particular segments of readers ('superaddressees')
with well-defined needs and expectations.
I ask also whether simplified versions of classic literature are a useful,
welcome, valuable means of introducing younger readers to celebrated authors
such as Jules Verne,
and to his now canonized works of literature? Or are they 'unfaithful' 'deformations'
of such great literary works? This speculation is fundamental and long-standing
within Translation Studies and Comparative Literature: are adapted versions
entropic, or could they rather be, to use Cronin's (2006) term, 'negentropic',
i.e. is there translation 'gain' rather than 'loss' when an original (source)
text as written by Verne, is re-presented in a new, different, diverse form?
The question of negentropy
can be applied to all types of adaptations, e.g. film versions of novels,
television adaptations, and generally, to all translation, even when it is
claimed to somehow traduce, or be inferior to, a great original. If literary
translations in general have been, in the past, misprized by some literary
comparatists, then adaptations have been particularly frowned upon. I argue
in this paper that not alone is conventional literary translation a legitimate
and valuable means of accessing an original work, but also that abridged
literature, be it intra- or inter-lingually adapted, contributes something
new and original to the source text/source author.
These Verne adapted versions,
for instance, give younger readers their first introduction to Verne's work,
and, when they are older, they may be enticed by these simplified versions
to read the complete original, be it in the source or a target language.
I thus see adaptation as a positive phenomenon. It creates new cultural forms.
It fosters diversity. It does not involve 'transformative loss' (Cronin,
2006: 127) but, rather, initiates younger readers to the joy of literature.
Diversity is welcome. It does not devalue, but enhances the original, which
gains, not loses, through its adaptations. A similar role of initiation,
diversity and gain is performed by film versions, stage musical adaptations
of classic novels, and so on. Adaptation 'keeps the classics alive' (Oittinen,
1993: 87) and builds a bridge between the source text and diverse groups
of readers/consumers.
Finally, I will consider proposals by translation scholars such as Delabastita
(2008), that the time may be opportune for Translation Studies to reconsider
its sometimes fixed, static conceptions of its object of study. I argue that
the study of abridged versions and of other, non-traditional/non-prototypical
forms of translations, may help our discipline to open up its object(s) of
enquiry to a much wider variety of textual manifestations of inter- and intra-lingual
transmission. Thus, all sorts of textual versions such as retellings, rewritings,
cinematic adaptations, theatrical versions, and so on, seem to merit the
ongoing attention of translation scholars, in tandem with film, literary
and cultural studies scholars. These texts include the three Verne
abridgments which are put under the microscope in this paper. I will argue
and seek to show by examples that they are indeed valid Verne 'translations',
notwithstanding
the differing status labels attached to them, and despite their various features
and possible origins. Furthermore, I argue that adaptation and 'conventional'
translation (unabridged) should not be seen as separate issues: they both
involve similar trends of simplification, concision, reduction, omission
and interpretation. The distinction (between adaptations and prototypical
translations) is quantitative rather than qualitative.
Book Review
I'm currently reading a collection of essays published this year by the Four Courts Press, Dublin, entitled Translation and Censorship, edited by Trinity College lecturers Cormac O'Cuilleanain, Eileen ni Cuilleanain and David Parris. I will be writing a review of this collection in the coming months for the journal Translation Ireland. I'm also working on putting the finishing touches to an article for the Verne online forum (USA-based) Verniana. The article deals with children's adaptations of literary works, and adaptation as a particular form of translation, using the example of Faraday's Ladybird book version of Verne's 80 Days. It is provisionally entitled Around the world in ... Eighty Minutes? Taking the child reader on an extraordinary journey to the heart of the wonderful world of Jules Verne.
Metaphors of Translation
The Collins English dictionary defines a metaphor as 'a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action that it does not literally denote in order to imply a resemblance, for example, he is a lion in battle.' The origin of the word metaphor, this dictionary goes on to tell us, is in the Greek word metaphora, from metapherein, meaning 'to transfer'. Translation is, of course, a form of transfer, of one text, from one language into another language. So the ideas of metaphor and translation seem already to have an important conceptual link between them. I therefore want to think a little bit about metaphors for the act of translation itself; images which might help to shed light on the act of translating, or on the person of the translator and her role and identity.
Chesterman (2007), in an article entitled On the idea of a theory, makes the point that metaphors of translation are actually theories of translation, a theory being a useful way of seeing or viewing a phenomenon in order to better understand it and/or to see it from a particular angle which will illuminate some of the phenomenon's aspects, while, of course, leaving other aspects occluded.
Chesterman goes on to give some examples of Renaissance metaphors of translation, viz. translation opens windows to let in the light; translation is like pouring a precious liquid from one vessel into another.
I wish to suggest two further, original metaphors of translation which came to mind when I was researching translations into English of the French novels of Jules Verne for my PhD over the last few years. One I call the Tuvix metaphor of the translator's fused identity; the other, the legal metaphor of the translator as executor/executrix.
I will explain these metaphors in my next posting. For now, I want to ask readers of this blog what metaphors of translation they find useful and/or not useful.
Chesterman (2007), in an article entitled On the idea of a theory, makes the point that metaphors of translation are actually theories of translation, a theory being a useful way of seeing or viewing a phenomenon in order to better understand it and/or to see it from a particular angle which will illuminate some of the phenomenon's aspects, while, of course, leaving other aspects occluded.
Chesterman goes on to give some examples of Renaissance metaphors of translation, viz. translation opens windows to let in the light; translation is like pouring a precious liquid from one vessel into another.
I wish to suggest two further, original metaphors of translation which came to mind when I was researching translations into English of the French novels of Jules Verne for my PhD over the last few years. One I call the Tuvix metaphor of the translator's fused identity; the other, the legal metaphor of the translator as executor/executrix.
I will explain these metaphors in my next posting. For now, I want to ask readers of this blog what metaphors of translation they find useful and/or not useful.
St Jerome's Warblings
Friday, October 16, 2009
Further Amazon.com review published!
I've just had a further book review published on Amazon.com, i.e. a review, in English, of the French-language novel L'Evangile de Jimmy by Didier van Cauwelaert. Also, can I recommend two brilliant French-language blogs which i've just discovered in the last few days, and upon which I am currently totally hooked, viz. http://www.misterbitch.net/ and http://www.bradshaw.over-blog.net/ . The former is written by a 21 year-old gay guy, Etienne, aka Mister Bitch, originally from Perpignan, but currently training to be a hairdresser in Paris and on the point of getting married (well, to engage in a Pacte de solidarité civile) in December to his boyfriend Sacha. Good for them. The latter blog is by a thirty year-old gay guy, Bradshaw. Both blogs make for compulsive reading. For me, they are quintessentially French roman autobiographique in theme. Think Annie Ernaux and her troubling levels of self-disclosure
Friday, October 16, 2009
Further Amazon.com review published!
I've just had a further book review published on Amazon.com, i.e. a review, in English, of the French-language novel L'Evangile de Jimmy by Didier van Cauwelaert. Also, can I recommend two brilliant French-language blogs which i've just discovered in the last few days, and upon which I am currently totally hooked, viz. http://www.misterbitch.net/ and http://www.bradshaw.over-blog.net/ . The former is written by a 21 year-old gay guy, Etienne, aka Mister Bitch, originally from Perpignan, but currently training to be a hairdresser in Paris and on the point of getting married (well, to engage in a Pacte de solidarité civile) in December to his boyfriend Sacha. Good for them. The latter blog is by a thirty year-old gay guy, Bradshaw. Both blogs make for compulsive reading. For me, they are quintessentially French roman autobiographique in theme. Think Annie Ernaux and her troubling levels of self-disclosure
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Amazon reviews
I've just written two more reviews on Amazon.com, one on Didier van Cauwelaert's novel L'Evangile de Jimmy which translates as The Gospel According to Jimmy, the other on the Stephen W. White translation The Tour of the World in Eighty Days.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Amazon Reviews and other Writings
I am not yet technically savvy enough to create links to this blog, so I want to use this short posting to let you know where some other shortish samples of my writings can be found.
On the Amazon.com website, i've published a number of online reviews, e.g. of William Butcher's 2007 Jules Verne: The Definitive Biography and of Annie Ernaux's I Remain In Darkness. The latter is the English translation of the French writer Ernaux's roman autobiographique entitled Je ne suis pas sortie de ma nuit. Like all of Ernaux's works, all of which i've enjoyed in their original French, this text is intensely personal, intimate, brutally honest to the point of discomfort, occasional shock, on the part of the reader.
I've written an article entitled Translating "Foundling Mick" for the Royal Irish Academy's 2008 The Extraordinary Adventures of Foundling Mick, Jules Verne's Irish-themed novel.
There is another republication of an old Verne translation - Stephen W. White's The Tour of the World in 80 Days - coming out in the USA later this year, published by the Choptank Press, and I will have two articles in that book about Verne and White and the latter's highly accurate rendering of the above Verne novel.
I've also been on radio twice in 2008 to speak about Verne - once on Newstalk, the other time on RTE Radio 1's The Arts Show. These can be Googled for the audio online (just in case you are a Verne aficionado).
On the Amazon.com website, i've published a number of online reviews, e.g. of William Butcher's 2007 Jules Verne: The Definitive Biography and of Annie Ernaux's I Remain In Darkness. The latter is the English translation of the French writer Ernaux's roman autobiographique entitled Je ne suis pas sortie de ma nuit. Like all of Ernaux's works, all of which i've enjoyed in their original French, this text is intensely personal, intimate, brutally honest to the point of discomfort, occasional shock, on the part of the reader.
I've written an article entitled Translating "Foundling Mick" for the Royal Irish Academy's 2008 The Extraordinary Adventures of Foundling Mick, Jules Verne's Irish-themed novel.
There is another republication of an old Verne translation - Stephen W. White's The Tour of the World in 80 Days - coming out in the USA later this year, published by the Choptank Press, and I will have two articles in that book about Verne and White and the latter's highly accurate rendering of the above Verne novel.
I've also been on radio twice in 2008 to speak about Verne - once on Newstalk, the other time on RTE Radio 1's The Arts Show. These can be Googled for the audio online (just in case you are a Verne aficionado).
Seeking work; rewriting the orphans, Harry Potter and Oliver Twist.
Can I just mention at the start of this posting that my email address is kieran.odriscoll3@mail.dcu.ie and not the former gmail address cited by Blogger.com, which i'm trying to get changed.
I spoke briefly about applications for jobs in a previous posting. In late 2009, graduates generally, across all disciplines, are seeking work in a difficult economic climate. Jobs in my own chosen field of lecturing and research in Translation Studies/Languages are as thin on the ground as in any other profession you care to mention.
I currently have applications submitted for French lecturing posts to such colleges as Dublin Institute of Technology in Kevin Street; the Universities of Manchester, Leeds, Middlesex and Bangor, Wales, having failed to be shortlisted for interview in such universities as Hull, Stirling, Queen Mary London, Edinburgh and DCU. I've also applied recently for a post as English Language Checker with the Council of Europe in Strasbourg, plus a good many TEFL jobs, principally ones based in France (the latter type of jobs have brought not a single positive outcome so far!)
How are other graduates, across the world, and in all disciplines, faring with their job searches? I would love to hear your experiences.
Moving on to the topic of translation, one area of Translation Studies which I would like to hear people's views on is that of adaptation, e.g. abridged versions of classic novels, not originally necessarily intended for a child readership, which have been shortened and simplified for younger readers, and perhaps also simultaneously transferred into a language other than the original, e.g. a Ladybird Book version of Jules Verne's Around the World in Eighty Days.
But adaptation is not only an inter-lingual, translational and/or textual phenomenon; thus, we have stage musical and film versions of Hugo's classic novels such as Les Misérables, and regularly occurring new screen adaptations of the novels of Charles Dickens and Jane Austen, to name but two favourites from the BBC and ITV stables (these TV serials would be intra-lingual and inter-semiotic adaptations, as opposed to the more conventional concept of translation as inter-lingual).
In the future, I imagine that J.K. Rowling will give her consent to new adaptations of her Harry Potter novels, so that I, for one, look forward to seeing significantly abbreviated and richly illustrated Ladybird book versions of the Harry Potter stories, together with new film and TV serialized versions. These adaptations are all likely to be still going strong in future centuries, just as Verne, Dickens, Austen, the Brontes and other nineteenth-century classic authors continue to be adapted in the twenty-first century.
Dirk Delabastita, the Belgian translation scholar, believes that Translation Studies should significantly and unashamedly broaden its remit to include the study of, among other textual phenomena, adaptation. I agree with this view. I found that adapted versions of Verne's 80 Days were even more interesting a translation study than the conventional, complete translations. For instance, Joyce Faraday's 1982 Ladybird version of the adventures of Fogg and Passepartout, displayed some interesting changes which she made to Verne's original.
For example, she transformed the taciturn, phlegmatic Phileas Fogg into less of an unemotional automaton, so that he was seen to become concerned or angry when obstacles threatened his progress. I was unable to contact Faraday herself to interview her on her adaptational strategies. But I hypothesize that transformations such as the foregoing alteration to Fogg's character, help to make this mysterious, enigmatical personage more understandable to the intended child readership of a Ladybird book. Thus, the intended purpose and target readership of this adapted version of Verne's classic story, are the primary cause of the adapter/translator's strategies. Technically, in the terminology of causation, the purpose, goal or function of a target text is known as the skopos (plural skopoi) of the text, and the purpose of a translation, including an adaptation, is part of the causa finalis of the translation. Other noteworthy features of this Faraday target text include, not surprisingly, copious illustrations and simplified language, and obviously, a much-shortened narrative, plus other changes to narrative sequence and structure which, I feel, make the narrative technique cognitively simpler for the intended readership.
However, Faraday has not chosen to omit some of the darker elements of Verne's original, e.g. references to Aouda's being 'burned alive' or to Fogg's suicide, the latter being, admittedly, more obliquely mentioned, and not in the main body of the adaptation. In children's literature generally, darker references are indeed sometimes to the fore. For example, the stories of Perrault in French in the late 1600s have several references to cannibalism, usually with young children on the menu, often planned to be eaten by their grandparents, e.g. an ogress in Sleeping Beauty (La Belle au Bois Dormant) decides she wants to eat her two grandchildren. As you do. At least this is what happens in Perrault's original, if not in the Ladybird and other adaptations of this story which I read as a child.
I'm interested to hear people's thoughts on how far Translation Studies should go to broaden its areas of interest; for example, is adaptation as discussed in this posting, a suitable/worthwhile area of Translation Theory research? Should film and musical versions of a classic novel be studied by Translation scholars, even if there is no shift in language?
And what is the value of adaptation? I consider that adapted versions of a classic literary work can be a good way to get new readers - not just child readers, adults too - introduced to, and maybe hooked on, a classic work and author. Readers of an interesting literary adaptation, viewers of a stage musical or film version of a classic novel, may be enticed, sooner or later, to read the original, if they've had their appetite whetted by a much-loved adaptation.
For instance, I loved the film musical version of Oliver! starring Mark Lester in the title role (Mark was most recently in the news for apparently being the biological father of one (two?) of the children of the late Michael Jackson). I had the LP recording, and I was involved in a number of school productions of this musical as a child. It was this musical version of the Dickens novel that enticed me to eventually read the full original, and, later, to read other works by Dickens. Lionel Bart's musical adaptation of Oliver! made the Dickens characters more alive and likeable for me as a child and teenager, than they would have been if viewed through the dusty, yellowing pages of my father's rare edition. But I could appreciate those ancient folios so much more, having come to them indirectly, through screen, colour, song and dance, via Lionel Bart, Mark Lester and Ron Moody.
I therefore feel that popular adaptations are a useful way to spread the 'memes' of the original work to new audiences. And with adaptations, questions of faithfulness to the original don't need to be as rigorous as in conventional translation, where accuracy in transferring the detailed 'facts' of the original is a dominant norm. Hence it's 'okay' - perhaps even necessary - for Faraday to make Fogg a less complex, perhaps more likeable character, in her own reworking of the Verne original.
What are other people's thoughts on adaptations, their value, and their relevance to Translation scholars?
In a way, I think that even 'normal', complete translations of classic novels are adaptations in their own right. The translator inevitably brings her own style of writing and her own interpretations to the original.
Speaking of Verne and 80 Days, I see that last Saturday's (10th October, 2009) Irish Independent contained a children's book adaptation by Disney of this Verne novel, with Donald Duck in the Phileas Fogg role. I must try to get my hands on a copy; i'm not a regular reader of the Indo.
In one of the recent reprintings of William Butcher's acclaimed 1995 translation of 80 Days, the cartoon characters Wallace and Gromit appeared on the cover of the (Oxford University Press) edition, to represent Fogg and Passepartout. There have been many film versions and TV cartoon versions, plus some musical versions, of this novel over the decades. My own favourite film version is the 1956 Oscar-laden version by Mike Todd (then husband of Elizabeth Taylor), with David Niven as Fogg.
So that's enough about adaptations and (job) applications! PS One of the comments by my external examiner on my PhD thesis is that my writing style is 'extremely prolix'. He advised me to use one adjective instead of my usual five! I was horrified to read the Collins dictionary definition of 'prolix', viz. 'so long as to be boring'.
But it's an absolutely fair comment. I bore myself most of the time! (lol).
I spoke briefly about applications for jobs in a previous posting. In late 2009, graduates generally, across all disciplines, are seeking work in a difficult economic climate. Jobs in my own chosen field of lecturing and research in Translation Studies/Languages are as thin on the ground as in any other profession you care to mention.
I currently have applications submitted for French lecturing posts to such colleges as Dublin Institute of Technology in Kevin Street; the Universities of Manchester, Leeds, Middlesex and Bangor, Wales, having failed to be shortlisted for interview in such universities as Hull, Stirling, Queen Mary London, Edinburgh and DCU. I've also applied recently for a post as English Language Checker with the Council of Europe in Strasbourg, plus a good many TEFL jobs, principally ones based in France (the latter type of jobs have brought not a single positive outcome so far!)
How are other graduates, across the world, and in all disciplines, faring with their job searches? I would love to hear your experiences.
Moving on to the topic of translation, one area of Translation Studies which I would like to hear people's views on is that of adaptation, e.g. abridged versions of classic novels, not originally necessarily intended for a child readership, which have been shortened and simplified for younger readers, and perhaps also simultaneously transferred into a language other than the original, e.g. a Ladybird Book version of Jules Verne's Around the World in Eighty Days.
But adaptation is not only an inter-lingual, translational and/or textual phenomenon; thus, we have stage musical and film versions of Hugo's classic novels such as Les Misérables, and regularly occurring new screen adaptations of the novels of Charles Dickens and Jane Austen, to name but two favourites from the BBC and ITV stables (these TV serials would be intra-lingual and inter-semiotic adaptations, as opposed to the more conventional concept of translation as inter-lingual).
In the future, I imagine that J.K. Rowling will give her consent to new adaptations of her Harry Potter novels, so that I, for one, look forward to seeing significantly abbreviated and richly illustrated Ladybird book versions of the Harry Potter stories, together with new film and TV serialized versions. These adaptations are all likely to be still going strong in future centuries, just as Verne, Dickens, Austen, the Brontes and other nineteenth-century classic authors continue to be adapted in the twenty-first century.
Dirk Delabastita, the Belgian translation scholar, believes that Translation Studies should significantly and unashamedly broaden its remit to include the study of, among other textual phenomena, adaptation. I agree with this view. I found that adapted versions of Verne's 80 Days were even more interesting a translation study than the conventional, complete translations. For instance, Joyce Faraday's 1982 Ladybird version of the adventures of Fogg and Passepartout, displayed some interesting changes which she made to Verne's original.
For example, she transformed the taciturn, phlegmatic Phileas Fogg into less of an unemotional automaton, so that he was seen to become concerned or angry when obstacles threatened his progress. I was unable to contact Faraday herself to interview her on her adaptational strategies. But I hypothesize that transformations such as the foregoing alteration to Fogg's character, help to make this mysterious, enigmatical personage more understandable to the intended child readership of a Ladybird book. Thus, the intended purpose and target readership of this adapted version of Verne's classic story, are the primary cause of the adapter/translator's strategies. Technically, in the terminology of causation, the purpose, goal or function of a target text is known as the skopos (plural skopoi) of the text, and the purpose of a translation, including an adaptation, is part of the causa finalis of the translation. Other noteworthy features of this Faraday target text include, not surprisingly, copious illustrations and simplified language, and obviously, a much-shortened narrative, plus other changes to narrative sequence and structure which, I feel, make the narrative technique cognitively simpler for the intended readership.
However, Faraday has not chosen to omit some of the darker elements of Verne's original, e.g. references to Aouda's being 'burned alive' or to Fogg's suicide, the latter being, admittedly, more obliquely mentioned, and not in the main body of the adaptation. In children's literature generally, darker references are indeed sometimes to the fore. For example, the stories of Perrault in French in the late 1600s have several references to cannibalism, usually with young children on the menu, often planned to be eaten by their grandparents, e.g. an ogress in Sleeping Beauty (La Belle au Bois Dormant) decides she wants to eat her two grandchildren. As you do. At least this is what happens in Perrault's original, if not in the Ladybird and other adaptations of this story which I read as a child.
I'm interested to hear people's thoughts on how far Translation Studies should go to broaden its areas of interest; for example, is adaptation as discussed in this posting, a suitable/worthwhile area of Translation Theory research? Should film and musical versions of a classic novel be studied by Translation scholars, even if there is no shift in language?
And what is the value of adaptation? I consider that adapted versions of a classic literary work can be a good way to get new readers - not just child readers, adults too - introduced to, and maybe hooked on, a classic work and author. Readers of an interesting literary adaptation, viewers of a stage musical or film version of a classic novel, may be enticed, sooner or later, to read the original, if they've had their appetite whetted by a much-loved adaptation.
For instance, I loved the film musical version of Oliver! starring Mark Lester in the title role (Mark was most recently in the news for apparently being the biological father of one (two?) of the children of the late Michael Jackson). I had the LP recording, and I was involved in a number of school productions of this musical as a child. It was this musical version of the Dickens novel that enticed me to eventually read the full original, and, later, to read other works by Dickens. Lionel Bart's musical adaptation of Oliver! made the Dickens characters more alive and likeable for me as a child and teenager, than they would have been if viewed through the dusty, yellowing pages of my father's rare edition. But I could appreciate those ancient folios so much more, having come to them indirectly, through screen, colour, song and dance, via Lionel Bart, Mark Lester and Ron Moody.
I therefore feel that popular adaptations are a useful way to spread the 'memes' of the original work to new audiences. And with adaptations, questions of faithfulness to the original don't need to be as rigorous as in conventional translation, where accuracy in transferring the detailed 'facts' of the original is a dominant norm. Hence it's 'okay' - perhaps even necessary - for Faraday to make Fogg a less complex, perhaps more likeable character, in her own reworking of the Verne original.
What are other people's thoughts on adaptations, their value, and their relevance to Translation scholars?
In a way, I think that even 'normal', complete translations of classic novels are adaptations in their own right. The translator inevitably brings her own style of writing and her own interpretations to the original.
Speaking of Verne and 80 Days, I see that last Saturday's (10th October, 2009) Irish Independent contained a children's book adaptation by Disney of this Verne novel, with Donald Duck in the Phileas Fogg role. I must try to get my hands on a copy; i'm not a regular reader of the Indo.
In one of the recent reprintings of William Butcher's acclaimed 1995 translation of 80 Days, the cartoon characters Wallace and Gromit appeared on the cover of the (Oxford University Press) edition, to represent Fogg and Passepartout. There have been many film versions and TV cartoon versions, plus some musical versions, of this novel over the decades. My own favourite film version is the 1956 Oscar-laden version by Mike Todd (then husband of Elizabeth Taylor), with David Niven as Fogg.
So that's enough about adaptations and (job) applications! PS One of the comments by my external examiner on my PhD thesis is that my writing style is 'extremely prolix'. He advised me to use one adjective instead of my usual five! I was horrified to read the Collins dictionary definition of 'prolix', viz. 'so long as to be boring'.
But it's an absolutely fair comment. I bore myself most of the time! (lol).
Friday, October 9, 2009
Viva voce.
This is my second day as a blogger, and I felt like logging in again to my newly-created blog/website just to say hi to all those out in cyberspace who may have come across these musings! Log in directly through http://fromlocaltolingo.blogspot.com.
The title of the website seems weird? Well, I went from the Local Government service to the study of Languages, as I mentioned in yesterday's inaugural posting, hence the phrase 'fromlocaltolingo'; but I wouldn't normally have chosen such a bizarre and unwieldy title, as it is certainly not very user-friendly, to say the least. But in order to set up this blog, I had to choose a website title that wasn't already taken - or 'unavailable', as the blogging terminologists phrase it.
Moving on ...
Can I ask people out there to share the type of experiences they may have had when doing a viva voce? Was it a severe grilling, an aggressive Spanish Inquisition-type encounter? Or was it pleasant and relaxed? Or somewhere in between? Different fellow postgraduates to whom I have spoken have all reported very different individual experiences, ranging from the pleasant conversation about their work, to the nightmarish attack on their ideas.
My own experience of doing a viva for my thesis on Translation Studies, here in Dublin City University in September, 2009, just over a month ago, was, in retrospect, a reasonably positive experience, though it may not have seemed entirely pleasant at the time I was doing it, and in the immediate aftermath. It was a rigorous questioning and criticism, in which the examiners seemed to be playing Devil's Advocate roles, though this seems reasonable enough in the context of the tradition of having to defend a thesis, a practice dating back at least to medieval times. At first, I felt a bit overawed, but as the viva progressed, I gradually began to emerge from my shell and to politely but assertively defend my ideas and approaches. In fact, this seemed to be the response the examiners were seeking. The eventual result was the award of the degree subject to corrections including significant deletions, as I had written too much.
In the continental tradition, e.g. in such countries as France and Spain, doctoral candidates must mount a public defence of their thesis, and this sounds even more intimidating than the thankfully private defence which we Irish PhD students present of our research. What has been the experience of students in these countries of publicly defending their PhD theses? By the way, students from these countries, please feel free to respond/comment in French and/or Spanish if you wish.
Here's another question: what do people out there think about word limits imposed on theses? The allowable word counts for a doctoral thesis seem to vary widely from one country's university system to the next. In my university, the word limit for a doctoral thesis in the Humanities is 90,000 words; in the Natural Sciences, it can be significantly lower.
I found that 90,000 words was impossible to achieve, in the sense that I initially wrote about a million words! This was partly attributable to a style of writing which is not naturally concise, and this is something which I understandably have to work on for academic prose. But my excessive writing was mainly due to the fact that I presented way too much data and discussion of same, and I over-estimated the amount of work required for a PhD, in the sense that four chapters of data have had to be deleted!
I've been advised by the Examiners that I need to prioritize. This is a fair point... But I personally feel that if a student is prepared to put in the time to presenting a lot of additional data, and can put extra data in Appendices, then the work should be valued and not consigned to the scrapheap of oblivion!
Another question: how do you go about 'selling yourself' as an academic in Languages/Translation Studies and as a translator, when there are so few jobs out there, without sending out wheelbarrows of CVs that nobody will ever read?
That's enough about professional stuff for the moment! So I will complete this posting and say goodbye for now, and thanks for reading this. Your advice and comments on this posting will be very welcome.
The title of the website seems weird? Well, I went from the Local Government service to the study of Languages, as I mentioned in yesterday's inaugural posting, hence the phrase 'fromlocaltolingo'; but I wouldn't normally have chosen such a bizarre and unwieldy title, as it is certainly not very user-friendly, to say the least. But in order to set up this blog, I had to choose a website title that wasn't already taken - or 'unavailable', as the blogging terminologists phrase it.
Moving on ...
Can I ask people out there to share the type of experiences they may have had when doing a viva voce? Was it a severe grilling, an aggressive Spanish Inquisition-type encounter? Or was it pleasant and relaxed? Or somewhere in between? Different fellow postgraduates to whom I have spoken have all reported very different individual experiences, ranging from the pleasant conversation about their work, to the nightmarish attack on their ideas.
My own experience of doing a viva for my thesis on Translation Studies, here in Dublin City University in September, 2009, just over a month ago, was, in retrospect, a reasonably positive experience, though it may not have seemed entirely pleasant at the time I was doing it, and in the immediate aftermath. It was a rigorous questioning and criticism, in which the examiners seemed to be playing Devil's Advocate roles, though this seems reasonable enough in the context of the tradition of having to defend a thesis, a practice dating back at least to medieval times. At first, I felt a bit overawed, but as the viva progressed, I gradually began to emerge from my shell and to politely but assertively defend my ideas and approaches. In fact, this seemed to be the response the examiners were seeking. The eventual result was the award of the degree subject to corrections including significant deletions, as I had written too much.
In the continental tradition, e.g. in such countries as France and Spain, doctoral candidates must mount a public defence of their thesis, and this sounds even more intimidating than the thankfully private defence which we Irish PhD students present of our research. What has been the experience of students in these countries of publicly defending their PhD theses? By the way, students from these countries, please feel free to respond/comment in French and/or Spanish if you wish.
Here's another question: what do people out there think about word limits imposed on theses? The allowable word counts for a doctoral thesis seem to vary widely from one country's university system to the next. In my university, the word limit for a doctoral thesis in the Humanities is 90,000 words; in the Natural Sciences, it can be significantly lower.
I found that 90,000 words was impossible to achieve, in the sense that I initially wrote about a million words! This was partly attributable to a style of writing which is not naturally concise, and this is something which I understandably have to work on for academic prose. But my excessive writing was mainly due to the fact that I presented way too much data and discussion of same, and I over-estimated the amount of work required for a PhD, in the sense that four chapters of data have had to be deleted!
I've been advised by the Examiners that I need to prioritize. This is a fair point... But I personally feel that if a student is prepared to put in the time to presenting a lot of additional data, and can put extra data in Appendices, then the work should be valued and not consigned to the scrapheap of oblivion!
Another question: how do you go about 'selling yourself' as an academic in Languages/Translation Studies and as a translator, when there are so few jobs out there, without sending out wheelbarrows of CVs that nobody will ever read?
That's enough about professional stuff for the moment! So I will complete this posting and say goodbye for now, and thanks for reading this. Your advice and comments on this posting will be very welcome.
Thursday, October 8, 2009
The Beginning of a New Adventure
This is the first posting to what I hope will become a regularly updated blog. I would like to use this blog in order to share my thoughts on many different issues, both personal and professional, over the coming days, weeks, months and years. One of the main topics, one related to my own profession of literary translator and Translation Studies scholar, which I will be largely concerned with throughout the life of this blog, is the concept of translation, and in particular, the translation of literature across all language groups. And because St Jerome is the patron saint of translators and of translation, and himself translated the Bible into Latin in the fourth century AD, I thought I would use his name as an appropriate blog title.
I recently completed my doctoral studies on the subject of Literary Translation. The title of my PhD thesis is Around the World in Eighty Changes: a diachronic study of the multiple causality of seven complete translations and one adaptation (1873-2004), from French into English, of Jules Verne's novel Le Tour du Monde en 80 Jours (1873). I passed my viva in early September, 2009, and am now seeking jobs internationally, in the worlds of French and Translation Studies academia (research and lecturing), literary translation and teaching. My MA thesis looked at the translation of the Harry Potter novels into French. I did my Masters and PhD here in Dublin City University, and before that, I studied Languages and Marketing in Waterford Institute of Technology, Ireland. And prior to that, I worked for over 17 years in local government, namely, in South Tipperary County Council, Clonmel. I took a Career Break from this job in 1998, at age 35, to go back to college. And because I ended up enjoying my studies, I eventually resigned from the local authority service. I have done some professional literary translation, some teaching and lecturing in French, Translation Theory and Comparative Literature in various Irish colleges, and am continuing to apply for jobs, so fingers crossed.
So that's the professional side of my life described briefly! I will begin to post discussion topics centred on ideas and information within the domains of Translation Theory, Literary Studies, French Studies, over the coming weeks and months, and hope that somebody out there in cyberspace may bump into my musings and maybe even respond. I would welcome your messages very much.
I will also be using this blog to merge the personal with the professional. So I will also post my thoughts on personal issues that have been relevant to my own life over the last 46 years, and hope to exchange thoughts with others on line.
For now, though, I need to finish up this first posting. This has been my first venture ever into the world of blogging, so I am gradually trying to get used to the process. I look forward to making my next posting very soon.
Best wishes for now,
Kieran O'Driscoll, Centre for Translation and Textual Studies, Dublin City University.
I recently completed my doctoral studies on the subject of Literary Translation. The title of my PhD thesis is Around the World in Eighty Changes: a diachronic study of the multiple causality of seven complete translations and one adaptation (1873-2004), from French into English, of Jules Verne's novel Le Tour du Monde en 80 Jours (1873). I passed my viva in early September, 2009, and am now seeking jobs internationally, in the worlds of French and Translation Studies academia (research and lecturing), literary translation and teaching. My MA thesis looked at the translation of the Harry Potter novels into French. I did my Masters and PhD here in Dublin City University, and before that, I studied Languages and Marketing in Waterford Institute of Technology, Ireland. And prior to that, I worked for over 17 years in local government, namely, in South Tipperary County Council, Clonmel. I took a Career Break from this job in 1998, at age 35, to go back to college. And because I ended up enjoying my studies, I eventually resigned from the local authority service. I have done some professional literary translation, some teaching and lecturing in French, Translation Theory and Comparative Literature in various Irish colleges, and am continuing to apply for jobs, so fingers crossed.
So that's the professional side of my life described briefly! I will begin to post discussion topics centred on ideas and information within the domains of Translation Theory, Literary Studies, French Studies, over the coming weeks and months, and hope that somebody out there in cyberspace may bump into my musings and maybe even respond. I would welcome your messages very much.
I will also be using this blog to merge the personal with the professional. So I will also post my thoughts on personal issues that have been relevant to my own life over the last 46 years, and hope to exchange thoughts with others on line.
For now, though, I need to finish up this first posting. This has been my first venture ever into the world of blogging, so I am gradually trying to get used to the process. I look forward to making my next posting very soon.
Best wishes for now,
Kieran O'Driscoll, Centre for Translation and Textual Studies, Dublin City University.
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