Ilan Stavans: Eight Conversations

4. Translation and Its Discontents

Translation and Its Discontents n. s. Where does language come from? i. s. If your question is figurative, my answer is that Language, with capital “L”—e.g., not the five thousand linguistic varieties one encounters around the world, but a single template that encompasses them all—is a Platonic archetype. . . . n. s. In “The Verbal Quest” [The Essential Ilan Stavans] you suggest that G-d is the receptacle of that Platonic archetype. i. s. Yes, G-d, according to the Kabbalah, communicated with himself through a system that is beyond our comprehension. But to relate to his creation, he uses a human language. And that language is Hebrew . In that sense, Hebrew, in my view, is simultaneously a vertical and a horizontal language. Let me explain what I mean: all human languages (Gaelic, Urdu, Latin, Piedmontese . . .) are lashon b’nei adam, i.e., horizontal vehicles that help us communicate at our own level; but Hebrew is lashon b’nei adam and also lashon ha-kodesh, that is, serves a double function: it enables us to communicate with each other, but it is also a vertical language in that it is a bridge between G-d and man. But if you’re asking me to ponder not abstract, mystical themes but issues of language formation and acquisition, then my answer is 78 4 Translation and Its Discontents different. Where does our capacity to use language come from? It is ingrained in our metabolism before birth but it becomes activated as individuals go through a process of socialization. What we call verbal communication is the way in which, through a set of established symbols—the use of the word chair to refer to a four-legged piece of furniture on which we sit, for instance—we exchange ideas. Children learn to communicate through imitation. n. s. In what way are language and ideas related? i. s. They are deeply interconnected: symbolic language enables us to form ideas. In turn, ideas shape the structure of language. George Santayana once said: “I don’t know what I mean until I see what I say.” This often happens when I write an essay: in general, I know what I want to say, although before I’ve set ink to paper it is impossible to predict how the argument will develop. Only when the sentences begin to pile up am I able to figure the path my thought has taken. Still, not until I reach the end do I realize in full what I actually think about the topic I’m devoting the essay to. n. s. I’ve asked these questions because I’m interested in the topic of translation, about which you’ve reflected profusely. Susan Sontag argues, in an essay of hers in Where the Stress Falls, that there are three basic tactical approaches to handling translation: translation by explanation , translation by adoption, and translation by improvement. The last intrigues me the most. I wonder how often a translator improves the text beyond the ambitions of the original. Is it the translator ’s job to do so? i. s. Improvement is a volatile concept in literature. It is in the realms of science and technology where one might apply it. Still, I like the idea of “translation by improvement.” I know a number of Italian, German, and Spanish authors whose fate in English has been the result of translators who have done that type of job. Literature is ruled by Darwinian laws, and the help of one of those translators is an asset in your favor. I also like Sontag’s idea of “translation by adoption.” I’m not fully certain what she means (this often happens with Sontag), but what come to mind is the fate of the Quitab alif laila ua laila, known as The Thousand Nights and One Night in English: to us it is a doorway to the Arab world, even though the tales are from Persia, and the 79 Translation and Its Discontents anthology has benefited enormously from its British, German, and French translators—Richard Francis Burton, Edward William Lane, Husain Haddawy, Enno Littmann, Antoine Galland, et al.—who even dared to introduce altogether new characters nowhere to be found in the original. Translation as recreation. n. s. Early on, we talked about your novella Talia y el cielo. i. s. A novella, really: it is barely one hundred pages long. n. s...