One of our readers from Denmark did a master’s degree in translation. She is passionate about the meaning of words and how they can be woven together to create a specific atmosphere. She’s also an enthusiastic reader with a solid literary background.
So when she reached out and we started talking, the conversation naturally evolved towards other books, and that’s when she mentioned books that are tricky to translate truly. She started talking about Our Mutual Friend by Dickens, particularly about the first sentence of the book. Her first sentence analysis was truly fascinating, so I feel compelled to share it with you.
In these times of ours, though concerning the exact year there is no need to be precise, a boat of dirty and disreputable appearance, with two figures in it, floated on the Thames, between Southwark bridge with is of iron, and London Bridge which is of stone, as an autumn evening was closing it.
Our Mutual Friend – Charles Dickens
Let see what hides in this first sentence.
The Socio-Economic Opener
The first sentence starts with a strong opening that instantly anchors the story in a time period. This isn’t happening in a distant land, a long time ago. This is happening in his now, at the time he lives in.
As Dickens was a court reporter and legal clerk, we can safely assume that he knows and understands the full social and economic appendices of “these times of ours”. He is knowledgeable about some of the darkest aspects of his time, and instantly refers to the world his readers understand.
When you read a sentence start like this, you are bound to expect a complex statement on the nature of society, human behaviours, and even the political climate, something Victorian England, Dickens’s times, did not lack.
When is it and where is it? At this point, knowing Dickens, we expect the rest of the sentence to narrow down a time and a location, a year and a city perhaps.
The Instant Rebuttal
though concerning the exact year there is no need to be precise
In these times of ours, which I refuse to specify any further, this is in essence the message he’s sharing, and it’s nothing but random.
Dickens is an acute social observer and his first sentence shows it. He knows that statements referring to the times in which people live are often seen at the start of a journalistic essay or in a social or political critique of society. These times of ours call for a clear list of defining which aspects he wants to draw attention to.
In Brexiters’ speeches, these times of ours would be followed by the enumeration of migrant statistics by years and the grand crimes associated with these. It would be humongous numbers, designed to paint a precise picture (no matter how relevant or accurate they are).
Dickens, however, rebuts all attempts to specify and anchor these times of ours into a purse-driven narrative. These times of ours, as it happens, we don’t care what they mean.
The Comedic Precision
Yet Dickens pretends to follow the structure of a socio-economic critique or statement, while still attaching some level of precision to the times he is writing about.
Year? We don’t care for now.
Time? We do have some information.
as an autumn evening was closing it
How does it help with the initial opening statement? It does not, and that is precisely the point.
And location? Yes, we do care, and we will care about it in great detail, even if, and specifically because, it doesn’t help the reader to grasp the plot.
between Southwark bridge with is of iron, and London Bridge which is of stone
Here, Dickens is obviously being playful, and for the experienced readers, it ticks all the right boxes.
The Jarred Subjectisation
Nevermind the exact year, something is happening right now, and Dickens is drawing our attention to it. A first sentence should definitely introduce some of the key characters. It needs to tell us whom to care about.
And this is precisely because Dickens knows what readers expect, that he goes above and beyond to ensure that he doesn’t deliver on it. In fact, to make sure he provides zero plot-relevant facts, he even chooses to remove the human factor from the sentence.
a boat […] floated on the Thames
At this point, to summarise, after an opening statement that heightens expectations for a strong societal point, Dickens takes the camera and zooms in on a floating boat. In these times of ours, a boat is floating. While this may be a ragebait speech in the mouths of lesser talented orators (and we have plenty in the 21st century), here, in Dickens’s hands, it becomes an unexpected and somewhat cheeky continuation.
It’s like an old aunt telling a story and losing herself in pointless details before actually getting to the main point. In a family setting, this is frustration. Here, it’s nothing more than an author breaking conventional expectations to amuse himself and his readers.
The Removal of Human Life
As the reader will find out later, the two figures on the boat are a father and a daughter. But at this point in the story, they could be anything. Dickens purposefully picks the term figures, which could refer to both animate and inanimate objects. For all we know, this could be a boat with a pair of boxes on board, or even two corpses sitting upright and frozen. Who knows?
That is the point, you shouldn’t know then. But whatever these are, they are described passively, while the boat alone is floating. This seems almost a random event. The boat happened to float between those bridges just at that time, maybe carried by the current.
This becomes even more interesting paired with the strong statement-demanding opener. In these times of ours, a boat floats; it is dirty, and there are two indistinct figures on it.
The removal of liveliness is a common trope for this chapter, and it starts with the first sentence. But as we are focusing only on the first sentence, this adds further to the contrast by rejecting all expectations after the opening statement.
What About Translation?
We, of course, do not need to translate the first sentence. But when the book reaches different countries and cultures, it needs a translation. More importantly, it needs a translator who can convey the full intentional awkwardness and comedic juxtaposition of this first sentence.
As it happens, this is delicate because when a translated sentence sounds awkward, the translator is the first to be blamed.
Needless to say, the brief Dickens lesson kept me interested and got me thinking about how The Dead Shadow could be successfully translated.
In the meantime, if you’ve got any first sentence analysis ideas and suggestions, please don’t hesitate to reach out on social media or drop us a line. We’d love to hear your thoughts.