When you read books in their original language, you don’t always think about the process of book translation. As it happens, my family and most of the friends I made before living in the UK do not speak English proficiently.
Sure, they have a sufficient grasp of the language for basic interactions with Paul. One of my aunts knows precisely one English word, grapefruit, and she will have an entire conversation with him, saying the same word with varying intonations to convey a meaning only the two of them can comprehend. They do have great chats when they see each other, though.
But from the moment The Dead Shadow was published in August, friends have been reaching out and asking about a book translation. Can we have it in French? When does it come in German? Why don’t you translate it yourself?
This reminds me of Gregory Rabassa, who used to translate from Spanish and Portuguese into English, and who said:
Translation is the closest reading you will ever do.
And quite frankly, if there’s one thing you should learn from it, it’s that book translation is not the same as asking Google Translate for the meaning of a word. Reading and appreciating what the writer is trying to say and how they say it is the start of every good book translation.
Understanding the Author’s Work
Before a translator can translate anything, they must read with a level of precision that borders on obsession.
They’re not just looking at the meaning of the words, but the meaning between them. And no matter how kindly you ask ChatGPT or Google Translate, they can’t provide that level of understanding.
A book translation is not about replacing each word with a similar word in a foreign language. It is about finding again the tone, the style, and the narrative path in a different language.
A good book translation needs “to write the author’s book again in a different language.” And that, my friends, is not the same as wondering how to order a croissant in Paris.
Carrying Culture Across the Page
Every book lives inside a culture. What is culture, you ask? Sure, there is an element of history. But where true culture lives is in the little things, like the humour, the assumptions about individuals, and the subtle social dynamics.
Behaviour that is considered shameful in one country may be normalized to the point that nobody notices it in another country. This is where book translation can be tricky. It’s not about putting the right words on the page, it’s about interpreting in a way that these cultural elements become transferable.
It comes to the translator to know what the new readers can reasonably be expected to understand. Because if they don’t understand the world the author lives in well enough, how are they going to understand the story?
The book translation needs to face a dilemma when it comes to conveying the culture. Does it need to explain it in detail, is it relevant ot the book to pause the plot for the sake of a culture lesson? Or is it better to let the reader feel the difference without going deep into the cultural transfer? Is a superficial grasp of the culture sufficient for enjoying the book?
Translating the Untranslatable
Words have multiple layers of meaning, literal, historical, emotional, and many more. As readers speaking the lingo, we usually understand what is meant, and we can weigh each word in its infinite complexity.
But once a story goes through the book translation process, how much weight can we give to each word? Their emotional load is not the same anymore, and while a translator can look for equivalent depth, there’s no guarantee they will find it.
It’s precisely why you can never translate perfectly.
Translation is the art of failure.
The translator needs to decide which element they want to translate, whether they opt for the imagery, the primary meaning, the joke, the music of the language, etc. You must make a choice, and when you do, you instantly dilute the meaning.
When Will There Be A Book Translation for The Dead Shadow?
I don’t know. I don’t necessarily think the book should be particularly challenging to translate into some languages, as the culture in a high fantasy is not linked to our social environment as authors.
But at the same time, I don’t believe for one bit that being able to vaguely slaughter a few languages in a semi-understandable way means I am equipped to perform any book translation.
Book translation is a unique and complex set of skills that requires far too much effort for my attention span. Can I read through the multiple layers of a book?
No, I can’t. I already hated that exercise at school to the point where I once rage-wrote a 12-page-long essay during an in-class test to explain why identifying all the many stylistic devices in a text did not make its story any more enjoyable or even worth reading.
If you are interested, this was prompted by being forced to read and analyse Raymond Radiguet’s teen sex fantasy Diable au Corps (Devil in the Flesh – essentially a story of infidelity and shagging with consequences), whose sole salvation is French actor Gerard Philipe gracing the screen in the cinema version of 1947.
See below and behold his marvbuloustastically self.
