Friday, October 8, 2010
Friday, February 5, 2010
Translation Podcast!
Short and sweet: the podcast I’ve been working on with Chad Post of Open Letter Books for the past few months launched! The first episode which is available now is a conversation we had with Lawrence Venuti at MLA in December about his translations of Catalan poet Ernest Farrés’s book Edward Hopper (which I reviewed earlier for Three Percent). We also talked about publishing and poetry and some other great stuff.
It’s available now through ITunes to listen and subscribe, or you can just stay tuned to Three Percent and listen to it there.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
The Same Old Song
So I'm a fan of The Atlantic in general. I like their politics, I like their writers and I like that they include poetry which fewer and fewer non-literary publications do with any seriousness. And generally I like their poets and the poems they select. But this month it struck me that it's been some time since I've seen anything really surprising or new in their selection of poetry.
Now, to be fair, they are not a poetry publication, and so why should I expect newness and surprise in their selection? But that equates to saying that people reading The Atlantic don't want new, interesting poetry but rather the same comfortable lyrical confessionalism that has been the mainstream of poetry for decades now. And I think that Atlantic readers are more sophisticated in their aesthetic possibilities than that.
This is the problem that critics of The New Yorker or, for the more poetic-minded, Poetry Magazine have. That the publications that are responsible for introducing a lot of people to poetry that they otherwise might not encounter fail in encouraging newness, innovation, experimentation or even in encouraging writers who are not already established names. No one is surprised to see a poem by Derek Walcott, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, inor Pulitzer Prize winning poet C.K. Williams in the current issue of The Atlantic. Or take June: Billy Collins and Jane Hirshfield. Really? I'm not saying that these poets aren't worth reading, because clearly they are (especially Williams whose work seems to be getting more interesting). But that we already know they're worth reading.
Ok, so the same old song about how the literary establishment is exclusive and publications like The New Yorker, etc. claim literary authority by publishing the already-well-known and prize-winning poets who may or may not happen to be friends of the editor, blah blah blah. I don't know that I have much new to add to it, except that The Atlantic hadn't in my mind been one that fell into that type of publication. And I don't think it has to be, in order to claim literary authority. I was going to give examples of unusual choices they'd made in the past, but I frankly can't find any...so maybe this is more an indictment of my own assumptions about the kind of publication The Atlantic is.
Now, to be fair, they are not a poetry publication, and so why should I expect newness and surprise in their selection? But that equates to saying that people reading The Atlantic don't want new, interesting poetry but rather the same comfortable lyrical confessionalism that has been the mainstream of poetry for decades now. And I think that Atlantic readers are more sophisticated in their aesthetic possibilities than that.
This is the problem that critics of The New Yorker or, for the more poetic-minded, Poetry Magazine have. That the publications that are responsible for introducing a lot of people to poetry that they otherwise might not encounter fail in encouraging newness, innovation, experimentation or even in encouraging writers who are not already established names. No one is surprised to see a poem by Derek Walcott, winner of the Nobel Prize for Literature, inor Pulitzer Prize winning poet C.K. Williams in the current issue of The Atlantic. Or take June: Billy Collins and Jane Hirshfield. Really? I'm not saying that these poets aren't worth reading, because clearly they are (especially Williams whose work seems to be getting more interesting). But that we already know they're worth reading.
Ok, so the same old song about how the literary establishment is exclusive and publications like The New Yorker, etc. claim literary authority by publishing the already-well-known and prize-winning poets who may or may not happen to be friends of the editor, blah blah blah. I don't know that I have much new to add to it, except that The Atlantic hadn't in my mind been one that fell into that type of publication. And I don't think it has to be, in order to claim literary authority. I was going to give examples of unusual choices they'd made in the past, but I frankly can't find any...so maybe this is more an indictment of my own assumptions about the kind of publication The Atlantic is.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Nano Poetry
I'm thrilled that Poetry International is starting the year by ramping up their publications to bi-monthly - I always look forward to their email in my inbox and taking the few minutes to discover new poetry. PI is an interesting project that has the potential to be the most important resource for poets interested in reading around the world, and they keep on making the right moves. Each country on the site (though not every country is represented and there are major holes right now including the USA and Chile) is edited by a local expert in the poetry, ensuring that even the best-read (and I don't think I can count myself among them) will find something new and wonderful on their site.
This first-of-2010 publication focuses on nano-poetics (which I've just learned from Gilad Meiri translated by Lisa Katz is mostly about miniaturisation and duplication) and poetry of the everyday. Having taught poetry of the everyday previously in a PEN Prison Writing workshop, I was excited to add more of this to my repertoire, and Japanese poet Yosuke Tanaka in Jeffery Angles' translation is perhaps the poet I most want to read more of right now. Here is the first four lines of "A River in Summer":
This first-of-2010 publication focuses on nano-poetics (which I've just learned from Gilad Meiri translated by Lisa Katz is mostly about miniaturisation and duplication) and poetry of the everyday. Having taught poetry of the everyday previously in a PEN Prison Writing workshop, I was excited to add more of this to my repertoire, and Japanese poet Yosuke Tanaka in Jeffery Angles' translation is perhaps the poet I most want to read more of right now. Here is the first four lines of "A River in Summer":
If no one is looking, I cannot get in.The 10 poems on the site are just a tease really, and will demand a further and closer reading on my part, but someone needs to get me his book Sweet Ultramarine Dreams in English! The pull between experimental and lyrical, the tension of images that only just make sense, and only if you're willing to leap fully into the language....the little truths just beneath the surface of the everyday. Just another taste, the last four lines from "The Station to Spring":
[A dead bird]
[A bird in various colors]
If no one is looking.
In the darknessAnd quite brilliantly the PI people have connected this poetry of the everyday to nano-poetics, which in David Avidan engage with the everyday:
The orange juice glows.
It seems to shine from within.
The station to spring is near.
MicrofilmIn nano-poetics, according to Gilad Meiri:
Everything’s miniature, like microfilm.
And at the hour of need – enlarged.
It could have worked for us too.
The world is filled with creatures which are too large
and not always useful and not always necessary.
The use of size – poetry’s approach to the small – as an interpretive strategy is a natural extension of an essential feature of poetry itself, for a poem is the smallest, densest unit of aesthetic information there is.The small is an invitation to intimacy, he says, and through that intimate and minute look at the everyday, through the parodic effect of mechanical duplication and repetition, a concentration of the world in the nano. One last poem from Avidan:
Let me be a mummy.
Wake me
once every thousand years with a shot of undiluted adrenalin, and then
I’ll burn Rome again, report on the event
with a pale face and a pounding heart, first I’ll castrate
all the barbarian warriors who conquered the city, possess
all their young women, so there’ll be
things to burn and men to castrate
in another thousand years. I have
patience for long-run missions.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Massachusetts Review calls for Translation
Call for submissions: Massachusetts Review
University of Massachusetts Amherst
In our fifty-first year of publication, the editors of The Massachusetts Review (www.massreview.org) plan to dramatically increase the amount of fiction, poetry and socially-engaged nonfiction which they publish in translation. MR is a general-audience journal of literature, arts and public affairs, with a particularly strong history of civil rights and feminist publication. Today we see a great need for US literary journals to internationalize – to open their ears, and their pages, to voices from outside the United States, and to writers in languages other than English. MR believes we have a real opportunity for synergy with friends and colleagues from local institutions, given the strength of the University of Massachusetts, Amherst programs in translation, of the locally-based translation studies journal Metamorphoses, as well as of the American Studies Diploma Program at Smith College (a one-year graduate program exclusively for international students). But we will of course also need the help of colleagues and translators from across the globe. To that end, we plan to announce in our upcoming issue the Jules Chametzky Prize for Literary Translation, to be awarded annually to the best poem and prose translations published within our pages. To put it as simply as possibly, our goal is to publish great writing from across the globe, from writers we haven’t yet heard of. The Voice of America has been broadcasting non-stop ever since the early days of the Cold War. MR believes that our country instead needs to sit down, take some time, and listen.
Edwin Gentzler, with Ellen Watson, has been named translation co-editor for the journal.
Please forward to interested parties. For questions please contact Jim Hicks, editor, Massachusetts Review, at jhicks@smith.edu.
University of Massachusetts Amherst
In our fifty-first year of publication, the editors of The Massachusetts Review (www.massreview.org) plan to dramatically increase the amount of fiction, poetry and socially-engaged nonfiction which they publish in translation. MR is a general-audience journal of literature, arts and public affairs, with a particularly strong history of civil rights and feminist publication. Today we see a great need for US literary journals to internationalize – to open their ears, and their pages, to voices from outside the United States, and to writers in languages other than English. MR believes we have a real opportunity for synergy with friends and colleagues from local institutions, given the strength of the University of Massachusetts, Amherst programs in translation, of the locally-based translation studies journal Metamorphoses, as well as of the American Studies Diploma Program at Smith College (a one-year graduate program exclusively for international students). But we will of course also need the help of colleagues and translators from across the globe. To that end, we plan to announce in our upcoming issue the Jules Chametzky Prize for Literary Translation, to be awarded annually to the best poem and prose translations published within our pages. To put it as simply as possibly, our goal is to publish great writing from across the globe, from writers we haven’t yet heard of. The Voice of America has been broadcasting non-stop ever since the early days of the Cold War. MR believes that our country instead needs to sit down, take some time, and listen.
Edwin Gentzler, with Ellen Watson, has been named translation co-editor for the journal.
Please forward to interested parties. For questions please contact Jim Hicks, editor, Massachusetts Review, at jhicks@smith.edu.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Multimedia Poetry Call for Submissions
As part of my ongoing interest in film and poetry (and multimedia poetry in general) I am collecting calls for submissions of journals, prizes, festivals, etc. Here is another in the expanding series of multimedia poetry calls:
The Missouri Review's Audio & Video Contest 2009
http://www.missourireview.com/contest/audio_competition.php
Our deadline has been extended to January 17th! Submit your entry in Audio/Voice-Only Lit or Video Documentary. Winners receive a total of $4,500 in prizes. First prize in each category receives $1,500, second prize $500. Five entries from both categories will be selected for a $100 Editor's Prize. All entrants receive a 1-year subscription to The Missouri Review’s Print or Digital Edition. Entries in both categories will be considered for publication in The Missouri Review or on our website. The winning video will be screened at the 2010 True/False Film Festival in Columbia, MO.
Category Guidelines:
Audio/Voice-Only Literature
If you have a short story, a piece of creative nonfiction, narrative essay or poetry that you think worthy of recording, enter this category. All literary genres are considered. Pieces in this category can be solely author-read or contain other tracks of sound, voice and/or recorded interviews. Entries are judged on literary merit, technical proficiency and, most importantly, how the author uses audio media to futher the literary strength of his or her piece. Note: Poets may enter one or more poems as a single entry as long as the total recorded time does not exceed the 10-minute limit. We encourage writers and producers to make innovative use of recording technology as a means of furthering their literary craft.
Time: 10 minutes or less.
First Prize: $1,500
Second prize: $500
Video Documentary Short
This broad category includes everything from a filmed scene that stands on its own to a videographed 10-minute documentary play, interview or nonfiction narrative. In addition to short documentaries on any subject or historic period, interviews of artists and artist presentations are welcome, as well topics of interest to a general literary audience. Entries will be judged on strength of the script and subject, ability to meet its objective (stated or unstated i.e., a comedic short that’s funny, or an author interview that is informative, fresh and insightful), technical facility including sound and lighting, reporting, presenting and/or acting.
Time: 10 minutes or less.
First Prize: $1,500
Second Prize: $500
All submissions must include a completed entry form for each entry, a copy of the entry on a CD or video DVD, a label with writer/ producer, title and length; a brief program synopsis (short writer/producer bio optional; and $24 entry fee. Send entries to:
The Missouri Review Audio & Video Competition
357 McReynolds Hall
University of Missouri
Columbia, MO 65211
For More Information, visit our webpage at:
http://www.missourireview.com/contest/audio_competition.php
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Literary Translation as Peripheral
So the theme of this year's MLA is translation, and it's going to be an embarrassment of riches for those of us who are both interested in the academy and in translation. The current president picked the theme because she is concerned with the place translation and translation studies have held in the academy (or rather, the places in which they are elided, I might say). And thank goodness someone is.
But it concerns me still that a behemoth like MLA might not be able to help but marginalize the work of literary translation and literary translation studies (from here on out, I'm going to just assume the 'literary). I differentiate between the two because I think it's in part this duality that makes translation a difficult subject to broach in the over-compartmentalized and departmentalized university system. Translation is, among other things, about half creative writing and half critical theory. So Translation Studies tends to get the theory - and that includes of course a range of other multi-disciplinary concerns outside of straight "translation theory" or even practitioner theory, including literary theory, linguistics, philosophy, the broad range of cultural studies and more narrowly cultural sociology, history, economics, etc. And Creative Writing, if they have the resources for it, can include the translation practice and the compositional creative elements. So where does that leave Translation? Split and scattered across the academy.
For example, where to people go to study or teach translation? There are very few departments, most translation studies programs are incorporated into other, larger departments like Comparative Literature, English or the relevant area studies program. Job listings for universities that support or are developing translation programs tend to require training or interest in translation as secondary to a primary "authorized" academic interest, again within one of those departments. In this sense, translation is always a subsidiary peripheral activity. It is secondary to the 'real' qualifications and the 'real' work of the department. Supplementary.
Those programs that exist explicitly for the study of translation tend to be broad programs that address the practical issues of interpretation, language acquisition, technical and business translation and perhaps, but briefly, literary translation. Literary translation is not a practical career, generally speaking, so these more technical programs rightly don't devote the same amount of attention to its practice and study.
And maybe this is the root of some of the difficulty. Literary translators into English very, very rarely make a living as a literary translator. Those that I know either teach (again, in another subject with some potential for crossover), or are freelance non-literary translators. Or like me, came from publishing. So when a field of cultural production, to steal a sociological framework, is not even undervalued but literally unvalued as an economic practice, what incentive is there for it's continued practice or study?
It seems similar, though I'm not familiar enough with the history, to the problem that creative writing faced in the middle of the last century. The solution then was the establishment of the workshop format, relying on the Universities to sponsor and support the creative activities that were being undertaken. And really, this is not such a new model. The patronage model has been in place for centuries, but only recently has it been institutionalized rather than individual patronages.
Of course, even if the workshop system was the solution, and I'm not sure that it is, it doesn't resolve that creative/critical divide that literary translation so simply ignores. Doing both is the obvious move, and some academics do, but eventually, it seems, by sacrificing the primacy of one for the other. And the one that is sacrificed is inevitably the undervalued practice of translation. Academics are happy to have translated texts to study, to teach, and to reference. But there is no system of reward that compensates for the work it takes to produce those texts, much less one to train qualified translators to become the producers of those texts. Those academics that attempt to include these elements when they can are often unable to.
All of this has been said before, more thoroughly I'm sure. I think, though, that until the discourse is developed into a valued and positive gain-driven vocabulary for literary translation, there is going to be no real change in how translation is incorporated as secondary (tercery, or at all) to the established disciplines of academic study and teaching.
But it concerns me still that a behemoth like MLA might not be able to help but marginalize the work of literary translation and literary translation studies (from here on out, I'm going to just assume the 'literary). I differentiate between the two because I think it's in part this duality that makes translation a difficult subject to broach in the over-compartmentalized and departmentalized university system. Translation is, among other things, about half creative writing and half critical theory. So Translation Studies tends to get the theory - and that includes of course a range of other multi-disciplinary concerns outside of straight "translation theory" or even practitioner theory, including literary theory, linguistics, philosophy, the broad range of cultural studies and more narrowly cultural sociology, history, economics, etc. And Creative Writing, if they have the resources for it, can include the translation practice and the compositional creative elements. So where does that leave Translation? Split and scattered across the academy.
For example, where to people go to study or teach translation? There are very few departments, most translation studies programs are incorporated into other, larger departments like Comparative Literature, English or the relevant area studies program. Job listings for universities that support or are developing translation programs tend to require training or interest in translation as secondary to a primary "authorized" academic interest, again within one of those departments. In this sense, translation is always a subsidiary peripheral activity. It is secondary to the 'real' qualifications and the 'real' work of the department. Supplementary.
Those programs that exist explicitly for the study of translation tend to be broad programs that address the practical issues of interpretation, language acquisition, technical and business translation and perhaps, but briefly, literary translation. Literary translation is not a practical career, generally speaking, so these more technical programs rightly don't devote the same amount of attention to its practice and study.
And maybe this is the root of some of the difficulty. Literary translators into English very, very rarely make a living as a literary translator. Those that I know either teach (again, in another subject with some potential for crossover), or are freelance non-literary translators. Or like me, came from publishing. So when a field of cultural production, to steal a sociological framework, is not even undervalued but literally unvalued as an economic practice, what incentive is there for it's continued practice or study?
It seems similar, though I'm not familiar enough with the history, to the problem that creative writing faced in the middle of the last century. The solution then was the establishment of the workshop format, relying on the Universities to sponsor and support the creative activities that were being undertaken. And really, this is not such a new model. The patronage model has been in place for centuries, but only recently has it been institutionalized rather than individual patronages.
Of course, even if the workshop system was the solution, and I'm not sure that it is, it doesn't resolve that creative/critical divide that literary translation so simply ignores. Doing both is the obvious move, and some academics do, but eventually, it seems, by sacrificing the primacy of one for the other. And the one that is sacrificed is inevitably the undervalued practice of translation. Academics are happy to have translated texts to study, to teach, and to reference. But there is no system of reward that compensates for the work it takes to produce those texts, much less one to train qualified translators to become the producers of those texts. Those academics that attempt to include these elements when they can are often unable to.
All of this has been said before, more thoroughly I'm sure. I think, though, that until the discourse is developed into a valued and positive gain-driven vocabulary for literary translation, there is going to be no real change in how translation is incorporated as secondary (tercery, or at all) to the established disciplines of academic study and teaching.
Meta-poetics
Not that I really know anything about meta-poetics, but I've been finding similarities in my reading and translating habits of late that lead me to suspect it might be something I'm interested in thinking more about. For example, the titles of some books I've been reading and translating recently are Armando Roa Vial's El apocalipsis de las palabras [The Apocalypse of Words], La dicha de enmudecer [Joyful Falling Silent - which I'm not totally satisfied with yet, because "dicha" sounds so much like "dicho" from the verb "decir" which means "to say" and that's just lost in it's literal rendering as "joyful"] and Efráin Barquero's El poema en el poema [The Poem in the Poem]. Poems from the first book are titled things like "De la palabra en la palabra" [On the Word in the Word] and "De la palabra recordar" [On the Word Remember].
It's not quite as simple as that, anyway. There's an inter-literary bent to Roa Vial that keeps me spinning - half the book is a response to Browning's Sordello, the other half invokes poets like Joseph Borowski and Victor Holan. It's rather staggering, really, to think about all this poetry talking between all these languages.
And maybe that's the relationship between what I'm thinking might fall under the category of meta (but not in a post-modern sort of way, or maybe in a meta-post-modern sort of way). Maybe the difference is that here the meta is not narrative but poetic. Maybe poetry has always contained the possibility of meta in a less self conscious way than narrative. Language in poetry is more expansive in some ways - the words take on their own shadows and slip outside of the regular usage. In my mind this is what is meant when someone praises a prose writer as being "poetic" - the expansion of the possibility of language.
In these poems the language is expansive and slippery, sonorous and silent. It's conscious but not self-conscious. Intentional without too much intent. That is the meta that fascinates me.
There's also a post in here - but not the post of post-modern. The word post itself attracts me...it's temporal duality at once before and after the word it modifies (as a prefix it literally and semantically comes before the word, but as a referent it signs an afterward). Now that I'm thinking of the word, I notice the orange button at the bottom of the screen telling me to "publish post" which is another interesting usage of the word. I'll have to come back to post.
It just seems like language becomes slippery in these works - a slipping that invites you to consider that none of this language means anything without all other possible language and as readers limited by mortality and capacity we are unable to access those possibilities. At the same time, poets, translators, writers of these words are equally isolated from the expansive potential of their words, which puts language into a very threatening role. It can mock you, disparage you, cheat you, betray you just as easily as it can open up for you the spaces between meaning.
But really, I should be researching and not reflecting on my strange and randomly consistent reading habits.
It's not quite as simple as that, anyway. There's an inter-literary bent to Roa Vial that keeps me spinning - half the book is a response to Browning's Sordello, the other half invokes poets like Joseph Borowski and Victor Holan. It's rather staggering, really, to think about all this poetry talking between all these languages.
And maybe that's the relationship between what I'm thinking might fall under the category of meta (but not in a post-modern sort of way, or maybe in a meta-post-modern sort of way). Maybe the difference is that here the meta is not narrative but poetic. Maybe poetry has always contained the possibility of meta in a less self conscious way than narrative. Language in poetry is more expansive in some ways - the words take on their own shadows and slip outside of the regular usage. In my mind this is what is meant when someone praises a prose writer as being "poetic" - the expansion of the possibility of language.
In these poems the language is expansive and slippery, sonorous and silent. It's conscious but not self-conscious. Intentional without too much intent. That is the meta that fascinates me.
There's also a post in here - but not the post of post-modern. The word post itself attracts me...it's temporal duality at once before and after the word it modifies (as a prefix it literally and semantically comes before the word, but as a referent it signs an afterward). Now that I'm thinking of the word, I notice the orange button at the bottom of the screen telling me to "publish post" which is another interesting usage of the word. I'll have to come back to post.
It just seems like language becomes slippery in these works - a slipping that invites you to consider that none of this language means anything without all other possible language and as readers limited by mortality and capacity we are unable to access those possibilities. At the same time, poets, translators, writers of these words are equally isolated from the expansive potential of their words, which puts language into a very threatening role. It can mock you, disparage you, cheat you, betray you just as easily as it can open up for you the spaces between meaning.
But really, I should be researching and not reflecting on my strange and randomly consistent reading habits.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
I'm telling you, poetry and film. It's the new hot thing. To whit: the 2nd annual International Poetic Short Film Festival at the Nuyorican Poets Café in New York City. If only I still lived on the East Coast.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
Call for Papers: Sociological Turn in Translation
It struck me a few months ago while I was looking for a book by Pierre Bourdieu that had come up in a discussion related to poetry and translation that I was deeply interested in sociology. Initially, I thought I was interested in literary theory, but when that turned out to be a whole lot of psycho-deconstruction-analysis (yes, I'm generalizing unfairly here) I determined what I was actually interested in was much more specifically constructed. The theories that I get passionate about are the ones that relate to the world directly - what literature and poetry and translation can do to construct identity (identity politics) in a post-colonial, post-national, globalized context. The power of poetry. The political import of art. Etc.
Where this seems to keep recurring in my reading is in cultural sociology, and so apropos of these revelations in my personal life the internet has again delivered a timely notice to me.
----------------------------------------------------------
Conference Announcement and Call for Papers
“The Sociological Turn in Translation and Interpreting Studies”
The Fifth Biennial Conference of the
American Translation & Interpreting Studies Association (ATISA)
April 22-24, 2010
New York University (NYU), New York, NY
The American Translation & Interpreting Studies Association invites you to attend their fifth biennial conference, “ATISA V: The Sociological Turn in Translation and Interpreting Studies.” The conference will be held on the campus of New York University in the heart of New York City on April 22-24, 2010.
ATISA encourages, supports, and furthers the study of translation and interpreting studies by disseminating knowledge and research relevant to all areas of language mediation, specifically translation and interpreting, regardless of discipline. Translation and interpreting studies here means the study of all forms of communication between languages, including translation, interpreting, localization, bilingual text revision, cross-cultural communication, and the various
specializations, tools, and technologies involved in such activities.
Presentations focusing on the act of communicating between human languages from a wide range of disciplines and methodologies, including translation studies, interpretation studies, applied linguistics, cognitive science, cultural studies, ethnology, sociology, anthropology, education, and other social sciences are welcomed. Presentations must follow the standards of scholarship of their respective disciplines, and they must show the connection of their work to Translation and
Interpreting Studies.
ATISA V promises to be an exciting conference where new ideas are generated, disciplinary boundaries are crossed, and research on all aspects of translation and interpreting, from cognition and social action to teaching and learning, is shared.
Translation and Interpreting scholars are invited to submit 200-300 word proposals for individual papers in Word as an attachment. (Please include your contact information in the body of your e-mail, not in the file. Name your file with the first three letters of your paper title)
Presentations on all aspects of translation and interpreting studies are welcome. Papers will be divided into sections on translation/interpreting theory, research, pedagogy, and technology.
Presentations will be 20 minutes in length, followed by discussion. There will be sessions Friday morning, Friday afternoon, Saturday morning, and Saturday afternoon.
The deadline for receipt of proposals is October 15, 2009.
Send Proposals To: Dr. Claudia Angelelli, Chair, ATISA Scientific Committee, at claudia.angelelli@sdsu.edu
Information: For more information about the conference, visit the conference registration page at
http://guest.cvent.com/EVENTS/Info/Summary.aspx?e=e04b01c9-4500-4566-bc12-63bb7d4e2369
Questions: E-mail to: translationconf2010@nyu.edu
Where this seems to keep recurring in my reading is in cultural sociology, and so apropos of these revelations in my personal life the internet has again delivered a timely notice to me.
----------------------------------------------------------
Conference Announcement and Call for Papers
“The Sociological Turn in Translation and Interpreting Studies”
The Fifth Biennial Conference of the
American Translation & Interpreting Studies Association (ATISA)
April 22-24, 2010
New York University (NYU), New York, NY
The American Translation & Interpreting Studies Association invites you to attend their fifth biennial conference, “ATISA V: The Sociological Turn in Translation and Interpreting Studies.” The conference will be held on the campus of New York University in the heart of New York City on April 22-24, 2010.
ATISA encourages, supports, and furthers the study of translation and interpreting studies by disseminating knowledge and research relevant to all areas of language mediation, specifically translation and interpreting, regardless of discipline. Translation and interpreting studies here means the study of all forms of communication between languages, including translation, interpreting, localization, bilingual text revision, cross-cultural communication, and the various
specializations, tools, and technologies involved in such activities.
Presentations focusing on the act of communicating between human languages from a wide range of disciplines and methodologies, including translation studies, interpretation studies, applied linguistics, cognitive science, cultural studies, ethnology, sociology, anthropology, education, and other social sciences are welcomed. Presentations must follow the standards of scholarship of their respective disciplines, and they must show the connection of their work to Translation and
Interpreting Studies.
ATISA V promises to be an exciting conference where new ideas are generated, disciplinary boundaries are crossed, and research on all aspects of translation and interpreting, from cognition and social action to teaching and learning, is shared.
Translation and Interpreting scholars are invited to submit 200-300 word proposals for individual papers in Word as an attachment. (Please include your contact information in the body of your e-mail, not in the file. Name your file with the first three letters of your paper title)
Presentations on all aspects of translation and interpreting studies are welcome. Papers will be divided into sections on translation/interpreting theory, research, pedagogy, and technology.
Presentations will be 20 minutes in length, followed by discussion. There will be sessions Friday morning, Friday afternoon, Saturday morning, and Saturday afternoon.
The deadline for receipt of proposals is October 15, 2009.
Send Proposals To: Dr. Claudia Angelelli, Chair, ATISA Scientific Committee, at claudia.angelelli@sdsu.edu
Information: For more information about the conference, visit the conference registration page at
http://guest.cvent.com/EVENTS/
Questions: E-mail to: translationconf2010@nyu.edu
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Split This Rock
I've recently become very interested in the interaction of poetry and film. This grew from a translation project of a long, semi-narrative prose-poem which turned out to be using a lot of cinematic language and techniques. As I dug deeper and deeper into the poem, and fell more and more in love with the work, I began to wonder what the fruitful relationship between film and poetry could be. What was the author's inspiration, in 1981 when he was writing this, to turn the language of the poem toward a kind of experimental screenplay.
There's a clear relationship in the primacy of the image. The poem, as Williams and his cohorts would tell you, is all about the image. Film, too, relies on visual perception - a visual literacy if you will that cues us without statement. Sound, also. Someone told me, and I don't have a citation, that the majority of what viewers of media respond to is the sound, not the picture. Likewise, poetry even sitting silent on the page consists of music - the internal music of the word, and of the line, and the fuller music of the poem.
I also want to find a relationship in the non-narrative ability of poetry and film. While they both can, and often quite successfully are, narrative projects, poetry by virtue of its concentration of language and form on the page (not just verse, but short blocks of prose because of the plunge into whiteness that follows each one, use the void, the break of the line to create this possibility) can exist in a momentary eternity. That is, one moment that is comprehensibly infinite and universal. Of course, there is a temporality locked into the reading of the poem - you must read one word, one line at a time, there is no way to instantaneously take in the entirety of the poem in an atemporal experience. Rather its the subject matter that, by breaking the bonds of the temporality of the medium, the printed page, can free itself to express something beyond history, beyond time. In the same way, film, while constrained by the linear succession of images on a screen, can yet break these narrative bonds and express something beyond.
All this to say that today I received a call for submissions for Split This Rock poetry festival, for film and video submissions. They are "looking for artistic, experimental, and challenging film/video interpretations of poetry that explore critical social issues." Which brings me directly to my other serious poetic interest: poetry as an agent of social change and conscience. On their mission statement page they write:
There's a clear relationship in the primacy of the image. The poem, as Williams and his cohorts would tell you, is all about the image. Film, too, relies on visual perception - a visual literacy if you will that cues us without statement. Sound, also. Someone told me, and I don't have a citation, that the majority of what viewers of media respond to is the sound, not the picture. Likewise, poetry even sitting silent on the page consists of music - the internal music of the word, and of the line, and the fuller music of the poem.
I also want to find a relationship in the non-narrative ability of poetry and film. While they both can, and often quite successfully are, narrative projects, poetry by virtue of its concentration of language and form on the page (not just verse, but short blocks of prose because of the plunge into whiteness that follows each one, use the void, the break of the line to create this possibility) can exist in a momentary eternity. That is, one moment that is comprehensibly infinite and universal. Of course, there is a temporality locked into the reading of the poem - you must read one word, one line at a time, there is no way to instantaneously take in the entirety of the poem in an atemporal experience. Rather its the subject matter that, by breaking the bonds of the temporality of the medium, the printed page, can free itself to express something beyond history, beyond time. In the same way, film, while constrained by the linear succession of images on a screen, can yet break these narrative bonds and express something beyond.
All this to say that today I received a call for submissions for Split This Rock poetry festival, for film and video submissions. They are "looking for artistic, experimental, and challenging film/video interpretations of poetry that explore critical social issues." Which brings me directly to my other serious poetic interest: poetry as an agent of social change and conscience. On their mission statement page they write:
Poets have long played a central role in movements for social change. Today, at a critical juncture in our country’s history, poetry that gives voice to the voiceless, names the unnamable, and speaks directly from the individual and collective conscience is more important than ever. The festival will explore and celebrate the many ways that poetry can act as an agent for change: reaching across differences, considering personal and social responsibility, asserting the centrality of the right to free speech, bearing witness to the diversity and complexity of human experience through language, imagining a better world.It is a reality, and not necessarily to be lamented, that many more people are responsive to visual media than written. Poetry is excellent at appropriating, so why not explore fully the relationship between the two and perhaps infuse again the ability for poetry to be active in the social conscience of the world.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Perishable Publishing
It struck me while writing the title for this post that "perishable publishing" would be a great zen-like e-zine name - the ephemeral quality of web publishing speaking for itself....but that's not what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about that oft-touted phrase for academics (or aspiring academics like me) "publish or perish." I'm thinking about this now particularly as it seems as though there will be some future for the project I spent the last two years working on, negotiating rights for, etc. I did this for the love of the work, but also with the idea that I could share my love of the work with a wider audience. Which requires a publisher.
One of the main topics of conversation in my translation discussions has been on the topic of publishing. While I may not be the most published person out there, I have been on both sides of the game, so to speak; working as an editor for Arrowsmith Press, Zoland Poetry and a number of other wonderful independent presses for many years, and also submitting my work with many rejections and a few acceptances. I've now had original and translated work published and let me tell you, it's much much harder to do with translated work.
First, the rights. ALTA and PEN both have wonderful publications, more like how-to guides, on things like "breaking into print," developing a contract, "promoting your translation," etc. The ground rules are laid out and free to download for anyone who might be interested. But there are some things gained by experience that I have been thinking about, which might be useful for those just beginning to think about publishing.
1. It helps to know the editors. Really, this isn't nearly as nepotistic as it sounds. You absolutely don't need to be friends with editors to get published. But it does help to know about the editors of the places you're submitting. It's kind of like dating - you want to find someone who is a good match. It doesn't make sense to submit translations of Chinese fiction to an editor that is primarily interested in Latin American poetry. It likewise doesn't make sense to submit lyrical poetry to a publisher who is primarily interested in political art. A good way to come up with a list of potential places to submit is to make a list of the journals and presses that publish the books you like to read. Look on your bookshelf for publishers - most likely they will share your tastes.
2. It does actually help to know the editors, or someone else who knows them, or someone who works somewhere in publishing. Literary publishing is a small world, literary translation publishing even moreso. If you're fortunate enough to be in an area where there are events centered around literary translation (readings, for example, or visiting writer programs) go to the events. Talk to people there. It's like networking, only these people are actually interested in the same things you are, and are probably doing fantastic work of their own that you will also be interested in. And you may get a lead - someone who is interested specifically in what you're doing, or knows of someone who is. If you're really lucky, you might also get an introduction, but at the very least you'll make friends with similar interests and learn about avenues you might not have already considered.
3. Research is key. Reading widely could be considered a pre-requisite for work as a literary translator. A general love of world literature predicates all work as a translator, and so there are likely a variety of world literatures represented on your bookshelf. The same approach for finding a new book could be used for finding a potential publisher. Go to a bookstore or library and look at the literary journals for those who publish work in translation. Or look at publishers backlists online. ALTA has a list of publishers (and journals) that publish works in translation, but because of the changing landscape of publishing it can't be comprehensive. Small Press Distribution, Council of Literary Magazines and Presses, and Poets & Writers all have lists of presses (though you can't search for translation specifically) that are worth browsing through.
4. Submit. Actually do it - it's good practice, and helps develop a thick skin. And you might be accepted, or get a thorough, and much coveted, personal rejection that can help you improve your work. The way I do it is aim high: start with the three or four places I would most love to be published, and then each time I get rejected I submit to three or four more. Some pieces are accepted right away, and some have been accepted after 15 or more submissions. Some haven't been accepted at all. But the practice of writing query and cover letters alone is worthwhile. And a great place to keep track of all of these submissions (because the worst thing to do is submit the same piece to the same journal by accident) is Duotrope.
Well, there are many more concerns in submitting translations for publication than original work. I may return to the subject, but I think for now I must return to Derrida, Des tours de babel, and thinking about the loftier aspects of translation.
One of the main topics of conversation in my translation discussions has been on the topic of publishing. While I may not be the most published person out there, I have been on both sides of the game, so to speak; working as an editor for Arrowsmith Press, Zoland Poetry and a number of other wonderful independent presses for many years, and also submitting my work with many rejections and a few acceptances. I've now had original and translated work published and let me tell you, it's much much harder to do with translated work.
First, the rights. ALTA and PEN both have wonderful publications, more like how-to guides, on things like "breaking into print," developing a contract, "promoting your translation," etc. The ground rules are laid out and free to download for anyone who might be interested. But there are some things gained by experience that I have been thinking about, which might be useful for those just beginning to think about publishing.
1. It helps to know the editors. Really, this isn't nearly as nepotistic as it sounds. You absolutely don't need to be friends with editors to get published. But it does help to know about the editors of the places you're submitting. It's kind of like dating - you want to find someone who is a good match. It doesn't make sense to submit translations of Chinese fiction to an editor that is primarily interested in Latin American poetry. It likewise doesn't make sense to submit lyrical poetry to a publisher who is primarily interested in political art. A good way to come up with a list of potential places to submit is to make a list of the journals and presses that publish the books you like to read. Look on your bookshelf for publishers - most likely they will share your tastes.
2. It does actually help to know the editors, or someone else who knows them, or someone who works somewhere in publishing. Literary publishing is a small world, literary translation publishing even moreso. If you're fortunate enough to be in an area where there are events centered around literary translation (readings, for example, or visiting writer programs) go to the events. Talk to people there. It's like networking, only these people are actually interested in the same things you are, and are probably doing fantastic work of their own that you will also be interested in. And you may get a lead - someone who is interested specifically in what you're doing, or knows of someone who is. If you're really lucky, you might also get an introduction, but at the very least you'll make friends with similar interests and learn about avenues you might not have already considered.
3. Research is key. Reading widely could be considered a pre-requisite for work as a literary translator. A general love of world literature predicates all work as a translator, and so there are likely a variety of world literatures represented on your bookshelf. The same approach for finding a new book could be used for finding a potential publisher. Go to a bookstore or library and look at the literary journals for those who publish work in translation. Or look at publishers backlists online. ALTA has a list of publishers (and journals) that publish works in translation, but because of the changing landscape of publishing it can't be comprehensive. Small Press Distribution, Council of Literary Magazines and Presses, and Poets & Writers all have lists of presses (though you can't search for translation specifically) that are worth browsing through.
4. Submit. Actually do it - it's good practice, and helps develop a thick skin. And you might be accepted, or get a thorough, and much coveted, personal rejection that can help you improve your work. The way I do it is aim high: start with the three or four places I would most love to be published, and then each time I get rejected I submit to three or four more. Some pieces are accepted right away, and some have been accepted after 15 or more submissions. Some haven't been accepted at all. But the practice of writing query and cover letters alone is worthwhile. And a great place to keep track of all of these submissions (because the worst thing to do is submit the same piece to the same journal by accident) is Duotrope.
Well, there are many more concerns in submitting translations for publication than original work. I may return to the subject, but I think for now I must return to Derrida, Des tours de babel, and thinking about the loftier aspects of translation.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
The End of the Summer
Well, it's official - school has started, and the summer is ending. Here in Iowa, where I've found myself immersed in a world of literature, art and translation, it's still sweltering out but the fall is on my mind. ALTA is coming up in November, and I'll be discussing the future of ALTA from my perspective.
It also means the newsletter is coming together, and I'm constantly humbled by the wealth of activity and interest in literary translation that is out there.
The summer was wonderful - two whole months, uninterrupted, with my husband before the inevitable distance took its place. But it is nice to be thinking again about my work, the work I hope to do, the work I am doing. Iowa is a good place for this.
It also means the newsletter is coming together, and I'm constantly humbled by the wealth of activity and interest in literary translation that is out there.
The summer was wonderful - two whole months, uninterrupted, with my husband before the inevitable distance took its place. But it is nice to be thinking again about my work, the work I hope to do, the work I am doing. Iowa is a good place for this.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Swallowed Whole
So English got it's millionth word today which is, rather strangely, not a word but a phrase: Web 2.0. What's interesting is the methodology, and debate, over what a word is and whether they can be counted at all. From hearsay, it takes use by three different authors in three different literary or scholarly publications to get a word included in the Oxford English Dictionary, which currently has 600,000 entries. This particular count is based on complex mathematical formulas that I can't pretend to understand.
OK, so what does Web 2.0 mean for words, then? We all know and probably have made use of some online linguistic reference, the OED online, Merriam-Webster or even Dictionary.com. These are more or less static representations of the print medium - they don't take advantage of the interactivity of Web 2.0. But WordNik.com does.
WordNik.com synthesizes some other online dictionaries for multiple and layered definitions, but goes far far beyond including (sometimes off-base) usage examples, pictures from Flicker, feeds from Twitter including the sought-for word, sound recordings (and the ability to record and include your own), synonyms, antonyms, and even statistics on how often you can expect to see the word. In other words, it provides a comprehensive if momentary picture of the current usage of the word.
Look up "translation" for example. There are 14 potnential definitions, though none of them are wholly satisfactory for me. This is not wikipedia, it is not user-defined definitions, though there are wiki elements to the page (like the possibility to add your own note following the definitions provided). Scrolling down, from a Twitter feed I learned that Google has launched a translation toolkit today, intended to help humanize machine translation through interaction with wikipedia. I've filed this away for further exploration, and continue looking down where I find a list of synonyms and antonyms and the etymology. Flicker pictures are understandably obscure for this entry, and I'm told that I can expect to see this word twice a month (which would make sense for the average browser, but for me it's closer to twice an hour). I can also see that the word was used heavily in the 1860s and the 1980s. Unsurprisingly, no one has tagged this word.
What's truly wonderful about this is that it fully explores the potential of user interaction. Logged in, I can suggest other synonyms, antonyms, even rhymes - and that's just for starters. It is not going to take the place of print dictionaries for long-term authority, but much like Wikipedia and the Encyclopedia, it may force established ways of thinking about language to shift towards popular usage and multimedia elaboration.
But search on Wordnik.com for "Web 2.0" and it comes up with nothing. So by whose standards is it a word, or is it just not there yet? The creator of the Global Language Project, responsible for the formula, criteria and count of English words, says the project is about English as a language of resiliency, expansion and populism. Words appear and become commonly used all the time, and those words, that flexibility of language, is what makes English such an important global language.
"English has the tradition of swallowing new words whole," he said. "Other languages translate."
It is the ability to assimilate new words and new usages with dizzying speed (only accelerated by Web 2.0 interactivity) that makes English such a powerful tool. And perhaps this is also the use of translating into English - to expand the linguistic and symbolic possibilities of the language and allow it to reach further and more significantly than it has before. To encompass more, without subsuming it. To adapt.
OK, so what does Web 2.0 mean for words, then? We all know and probably have made use of some online linguistic reference, the OED online, Merriam-Webster or even Dictionary.com. These are more or less static representations of the print medium - they don't take advantage of the interactivity of Web 2.0. But WordNik.com does.
WordNik.com synthesizes some other online dictionaries for multiple and layered definitions, but goes far far beyond including (sometimes off-base) usage examples, pictures from Flicker, feeds from Twitter including the sought-for word, sound recordings (and the ability to record and include your own), synonyms, antonyms, and even statistics on how often you can expect to see the word. In other words, it provides a comprehensive if momentary picture of the current usage of the word.
Look up "translation" for example. There are 14 potnential definitions, though none of them are wholly satisfactory for me. This is not wikipedia, it is not user-defined definitions, though there are wiki elements to the page (like the possibility to add your own note following the definitions provided). Scrolling down, from a Twitter feed I learned that Google has launched a translation toolkit today, intended to help humanize machine translation through interaction with wikipedia. I've filed this away for further exploration, and continue looking down where I find a list of synonyms and antonyms and the etymology. Flicker pictures are understandably obscure for this entry, and I'm told that I can expect to see this word twice a month (which would make sense for the average browser, but for me it's closer to twice an hour). I can also see that the word was used heavily in the 1860s and the 1980s. Unsurprisingly, no one has tagged this word.
What's truly wonderful about this is that it fully explores the potential of user interaction. Logged in, I can suggest other synonyms, antonyms, even rhymes - and that's just for starters. It is not going to take the place of print dictionaries for long-term authority, but much like Wikipedia and the Encyclopedia, it may force established ways of thinking about language to shift towards popular usage and multimedia elaboration.
But search on Wordnik.com for "Web 2.0" and it comes up with nothing. So by whose standards is it a word, or is it just not there yet? The creator of the Global Language Project, responsible for the formula, criteria and count of English words, says the project is about English as a language of resiliency, expansion and populism. Words appear and become commonly used all the time, and those words, that flexibility of language, is what makes English such an important global language.
"English has the tradition of swallowing new words whole," he said. "Other languages translate."
It is the ability to assimilate new words and new usages with dizzying speed (only accelerated by Web 2.0 interactivity) that makes English such a powerful tool. And perhaps this is also the use of translating into English - to expand the linguistic and symbolic possibilities of the language and allow it to reach further and more significantly than it has before. To encompass more, without subsuming it. To adapt.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Breadcrumbs #1
Occasionally I find myself sucked into a vortex of information, jumping from one interesting link to another, always intending to find my way back and read carefully rather than skimming. It occurred to me last weekend on a particularly strange journey that brought me finally to the Dubai International Poetry Festival, that it would be interesting to keep track of the jumps, the rational and the points of interest during a session like this. Call it electronic anthropology.
So I'm going to begin now with a relatively short but fruitful session. It begins, as it often does, with a google search:
"academic literature jounrals" (and yes, I did mean journals as google helpfully points out) from which I jump to the first result:
dmoz.org, with a comprehensive list of literary journals with links and descriptions of what each journal does, from which I jump to
Sirena: an online literary journal in Spanish and English published by Johns Hopkins University Press and edited at Dickinson College - it doesn't look like they have published an issue since 2007, but still I visit their links page and jump to
Fractal: a literary journal from Mexico which I'd come across before in the Harvard Library which has some great Spanish-language poetry, and translations of poetry into Spanish.
Both of these journals deserve closer attention than I had time to give them at the moment, and dmoz.org has some great lists other than this one of literary journals. In fact, I'm headed back there now to see if they can help me with my original quest for scholarly journals in the humanities.
On my next jump from dmoz.org I landed here:
Emily' Page: a collection of links to other sites with humanities resources like:
Voice of the Shuttle: a treasure trove of humanities links and resources, though it seems to be somewhat out of date (at least the calls for papers and conference announcements end in 1998) and some links are broken
and
EServer: which has a ton of primary sources, though they don't all seem to work
and
On-Line Literary Research Tools: which hasn't been updated since 2006, but still has some awesome literary theory links.
So I'm going to begin now with a relatively short but fruitful session. It begins, as it often does, with a google search:
"academic literature jounrals" (and yes, I did mean journals as google helpfully points out) from which I jump to the first result:
dmoz.org, with a comprehensive list of literary journals with links and descriptions of what each journal does, from which I jump to
Sirena: an online literary journal in Spanish and English published by Johns Hopkins University Press and edited at Dickinson College - it doesn't look like they have published an issue since 2007, but still I visit their links page and jump to
Fractal: a literary journal from Mexico which I'd come across before in the Harvard Library which has some great Spanish-language poetry, and translations of poetry into Spanish.
Both of these journals deserve closer attention than I had time to give them at the moment, and dmoz.org has some great lists other than this one of literary journals. In fact, I'm headed back there now to see if they can help me with my original quest for scholarly journals in the humanities.
On my next jump from dmoz.org I landed here:
Emily' Page: a collection of links to other sites with humanities resources like:
Voice of the Shuttle: a treasure trove of humanities links and resources, though it seems to be somewhat out of date (at least the calls for papers and conference announcements end in 1998) and some links are broken
and
EServer: which has a ton of primary sources, though they don't all seem to work
and
On-Line Literary Research Tools: which hasn't been updated since 2006, but still has some awesome literary theory links.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
ALTA on YouTube
I only recently became aware of the LiteraryTranslaion Channel on YouTube, which has several videos from the ALTA Conference in 2008 including interviews with translators about their careers and work.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Summer Translation Study
So I'm compiling news and announcements for the bi-annual ALTA newsletter - a delightful project that I'm thrilled to be helping with. It's amazing how much translation information and conversation is out there once you begin looking around.
Anyways, one of the tasks is paring down the information to the most timely and relevant. This means lots of things are getting left out - in part because deadlines have passed, etc. So because I think they're interesting things to know about/keep in mind for future years, I'm going to put them here.
These are some summer translation programs that I've come across:
The Translation Research Summer School (TRSS), a joint initiative of three British universities and the Centre for Translation at the Hong Kong Baptist University, organizes an annual two-week course in one of the partner institutions in the UK and an annual two-week course at Hong Kong Baptist University, offering intensive research training in translation and intercultural studies for prospective researchers in the field. Collaborating in the UK Summer School are the Centre for Translation and Intercultural Studies at the University of Manchester, the Centre for Intercultural Studies at University College London (UCL), and the Translation Studies Graduate Programme, School of Literatures, Languages and Cultures, University of Edinburgh.
Nida School for Translation Studies (NSTS) in Misano adriatico (Rimini), Italy.
The NSTS is a program of the E.A.Nida Institute for Biblical Scholarship at the American Bible Society. Its mission is to support advanced training and research into translation studies (understood as inclusive of the history and practice of Bible translation). Supporting institutions include the Translation Center at UMass-Amherst, Istituto San Pellegrino, the Society of Biblical Literature, The United Bible Societies (UBS), and SIL International. The theme of the 2009 session is “Translation and Culture.”
British Center for Literary Translation Summer School
The one week program brings together writers and translators for literary translation workshops, round tables, seminars and readings. Workshops are offered into English from Chinese, French, Portuguese, German and Spanish and from English into Italian. In each workshop participants work with a writer in residence under the guidance of a workshop leader who is an experienced literary translator. Limited funding is available.
Anyways, one of the tasks is paring down the information to the most timely and relevant. This means lots of things are getting left out - in part because deadlines have passed, etc. So because I think they're interesting things to know about/keep in mind for future years, I'm going to put them here.
These are some summer translation programs that I've come across:
The Translation Research Summer School (TRSS), a joint initiative of three British universities and the Centre for Translation at the Hong Kong Baptist University, organizes an annual two-week course in one of the partner institutions in the UK and an annual two-week course at Hong Kong Baptist University, offering intensive research training in translation and intercultural studies for prospective researchers in the field. Collaborating in the UK Summer School are the Centre for Translation and Intercultural Studies at the University of Manchester, the Centre for Intercultural Studies at University College London (UCL), and the Translation Studies Graduate Programme, School of Literatures, Languages and Cultures, University of Edinburgh.
Nida School for Translation Studies (NSTS) in Misano adriatico (Rimini), Italy.
The NSTS is a program of the E.A.Nida Institute for Biblical Scholarship at the American Bible Society. Its mission is to support advanced training and research into translation studies (understood as inclusive of the history and practice of Bible translation). Supporting institutions include the Translation Center at UMass-Amherst, Istituto San Pellegrino, the Society of Biblical Literature, The United Bible Societies (UBS), and SIL International. The theme of the 2009 session is “Translation and Culture.”
British Center for Literary Translation Summer School
The one week program brings together writers and translators for literary translation workshops, round tables, seminars and readings. Workshops are offered into English from Chinese, French, Portuguese, German and Spanish and from English into Italian. In each workshop participants work with a writer in residence under the guidance of a workshop leader who is an experienced literary translator. Limited funding is available.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Not Lost
A New York Times piece on a Christopher Hampton's play 'The Philanthropist' ends with a wonderful reminder of how important translation is for literature and the arts:
Though another commenter quips Frost's famous derision of translating poetry, that it is what is lost in translation, I think this view is often misunderstood. I think he means is that great translation requires a great artist, a poet, to re-form the poetry in the new language. Those who think that translations are always and inescapably inferior and derivative tend to be rather limited in their view of what a translation can achieve. It's no surprise to anyone that there are losses in the translation of literature - sounds, rhymes, meters that simply have no equivalent in the target language. But most people who have not thought overmuch about the practice don't realize there are equal gains - in sound, rhyme, meter, and even, sometimes, in allusion and elsewhere.
This history of this inferior and derivative idea of translation actually comes from translating religious texts - that the original was sacred and divine and that any transference of it was necessarily inferior. We recognize now the crippling absurdity of that idea - especially since it came to bear when the Christian Bible was already in Latin, having been translated already.
Many of the greatest poets in recent history, Pablo Neruda for one, believed that translation could actually improve upon the original. And I think he was right - a great line from his most famous book, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, reads: "El amor es tan corto, el olvido es tan largo." It is much tighter in English: "Love is so short, forgetting is so long." The anaphora is clearer, the symmetry of phrasing emphasized by the loss of the articles, unnecessary in English.
The myopic view that a translation is necessarily inferior to an original work is what prevents translators from being recognized as artists, necessary for the success of global literature. It is what prevents translators from being fairly compensated for their work, and what prevents acknowledgment that without them we would have a very limited and sad reading world indeed.
I think translation is very underappreciated and under-rewarded. I feel quite strongly that translation is performing an incredibly valuable service for us all. As often as not, when you read a translated novel, you have to search to find the name of the translator. Of course the translator is the person who is directly mediating the language to you and giving you access to all these worlds that you otherwise wouldn’t be able to enter.And of course, the first comment on the story says in a contemptuously backhanded agreement:
poetry is, of course, what is “lost in translation,” and good translators (like every good artist) knows that their work will inevitably fail to convey the full beauty and truth of the original (in the case of the artist, the original being the kernel of an idea for a work that is alway better than whatever gets made). but where would we be without wonderful translators like hampton, who give us worlds that would otherwise remain completely inaccessible? translation is an art — an interpretive art (like acting, directing, dancing, singing, playing an instrument) but an art nonetheless. here’s to translators!Though the article was posted two weeks ago, I couldn't help but add my disgruntled .02:
Though another commenter quips Frost's famous derision of translating poetry, that it is what is lost in translation, I think this view is often misunderstood. I think he means is that great translation requires a great artist, a poet, to re-form the poetry in the new language. Those who think that translations are always and inescapably inferior and derivative tend to be rather limited in their view of what a translation can achieve. It's no surprise to anyone that there are losses in the translation of literature - sounds, rhymes, meters that simply have no equivalent in the target language. But most people who have not thought overmuch about the practice don't realize there are equal gains - in sound, rhyme, meter, and even, sometimes, in allusion and elsewhere.
This history of this inferior and derivative idea of translation actually comes from translating religious texts - that the original was sacred and divine and that any transference of it was necessarily inferior. We recognize now the crippling absurdity of that idea - especially since it came to bear when the Christian Bible was already in Latin, having been translated already.
Many of the greatest poets in recent history, Pablo Neruda for one, believed that translation could actually improve upon the original. And I think he was right - a great line from his most famous book, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, reads: "El amor es tan corto, el olvido es tan largo." It is much tighter in English: "Love is so short, forgetting is so long." The anaphora is clearer, the symmetry of phrasing emphasized by the loss of the articles, unnecessary in English.
The myopic view that a translation is necessarily inferior to an original work is what prevents translators from being recognized as artists, necessary for the success of global literature. It is what prevents translators from being fairly compensated for their work, and what prevents acknowledgment that without them we would have a very limited and sad reading world indeed.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Translator, Trader?
There is a fantastic new review of an essay on translating literature over at The Complete Review today. Not only am I constantly impressed by the number of foreign-language books reviewed (either in translation or untranslated) over there, but the insight with which he addresses not only the merits of the work but the translation as well. This review deals with a new translation of That Mad Ache by Françoise Sagan, translated by Douglas R. Hofstadter.
What is especially interesting is that the book on has two covers - a front and back. The front is for the text, the back, when turned upside down, is the cover of the long essay on translation by Hofstadter included with the text. I haven't read it, but having read the review I think it's safe to say that I will likely disagree with his discussion of translation in major parts, I would not translate Bonjour tristesse as Howdy, Blues, and don't feel the need to elucidate texts as a translator - that is the job of the critic, teacher or student. In any case, having not read it I was still struck by the magnitude of giving the translator not only so much page space in the book, but his own cover. And, according to The Complete Review, listing him on the front not as a translator but co-author.
Which immediately made me think of Russel Valentino's excellent post at Words Without Borders a week or so ago. He discusses the debate over the National Translation Award's new eligibility requirements that the translator of a literary work be listed on the cover. This, he seems to say, and I agree, needlessly punishes translators who have little to no control over what a publisher may decide. Not only that, it is, he says, a misguided attempt at educating a reading public about the necessity and pervasiveness of translation. I agree with his conclusion that this kind of education should be happening in universities and schools - where it is most effective and appropriate.
The issue from the publisher's side is that translation is scary to the reading public, and being aware that a book is translated will make readers choose not to read the book. As Valentino says, this is merely heresay, with no real data to back up this claim. You can also posit readers like me, who have several 'favorite' translators and regularly search for books translated by them not only because of their skill in the art of translation, but because of their execellent tastes in literature. If Margaret Sayers Peden translates a book, chances are I'm going to like it, because I share her taste in literature. In any case, there is no current way to determine what effect the prominent display of a translator's name on the cover of a book has on its sales.
Which makes it more interesting then that Hofstadter is credited as being a co-author. His approach to translation, on the freer side of the spectrum, certainly allows for the possibility of crediting in this manner. The idea, frankly, turns me off. It would be one thing if he worked with the original author on the translation, which doesn't appear to be the case here. But even then, I would be skeptical of a claim of co-authorship. There is an analogy here in music, perhaps. A contemporary conductor re-interpreting a Mozart symphony does not then claim to have co-composed it. Conducting itself is an art of interpretation, of translating written notes to sound, and is respected as such. Great conductors are acknowledged as masters of an art form that is seperate from the act of composing (though of course one does not preclude the other, just as being a translator does not preclude one from also writing). Even in arranging music for new combinations of instruments one does not claim authorship of the original music. It is an adaption, seperate from but indebted to the genius of the original author.
Looser translation tactics should also be seen in this light. And so while it is imperative that translation become more acceptable to engage academically, as Valentino suggests, and that translators are given credit and respect for the practice of their art, there are limits to how much ownership one can claim of the original text.
I'm delighted that the translator's afterward in this book is so substantial - I think this is something that publishers, should they choose to, could add to the reading and understanding of a text. But I'm wary of the heavy-handed claims being made. A sure way to lose respect for the art of translating is to infringe into the art of authoring without warrent.
What is especially interesting is that the book on has two covers - a front and back. The front is for the text, the back, when turned upside down, is the cover of the long essay on translation by Hofstadter included with the text. I haven't read it, but having read the review I think it's safe to say that I will likely disagree with his discussion of translation in major parts, I would not translate Bonjour tristesse as Howdy, Blues, and don't feel the need to elucidate texts as a translator - that is the job of the critic, teacher or student. In any case, having not read it I was still struck by the magnitude of giving the translator not only so much page space in the book, but his own cover. And, according to The Complete Review, listing him on the front not as a translator but co-author.
Which immediately made me think of Russel Valentino's excellent post at Words Without Borders a week or so ago. He discusses the debate over the National Translation Award's new eligibility requirements that the translator of a literary work be listed on the cover. This, he seems to say, and I agree, needlessly punishes translators who have little to no control over what a publisher may decide. Not only that, it is, he says, a misguided attempt at educating a reading public about the necessity and pervasiveness of translation. I agree with his conclusion that this kind of education should be happening in universities and schools - where it is most effective and appropriate.
The issue from the publisher's side is that translation is scary to the reading public, and being aware that a book is translated will make readers choose not to read the book. As Valentino says, this is merely heresay, with no real data to back up this claim. You can also posit readers like me, who have several 'favorite' translators and regularly search for books translated by them not only because of their skill in the art of translation, but because of their execellent tastes in literature. If Margaret Sayers Peden translates a book, chances are I'm going to like it, because I share her taste in literature. In any case, there is no current way to determine what effect the prominent display of a translator's name on the cover of a book has on its sales.
Which makes it more interesting then that Hofstadter is credited as being a co-author. His approach to translation, on the freer side of the spectrum, certainly allows for the possibility of crediting in this manner. The idea, frankly, turns me off. It would be one thing if he worked with the original author on the translation, which doesn't appear to be the case here. But even then, I would be skeptical of a claim of co-authorship. There is an analogy here in music, perhaps. A contemporary conductor re-interpreting a Mozart symphony does not then claim to have co-composed it. Conducting itself is an art of interpretation, of translating written notes to sound, and is respected as such. Great conductors are acknowledged as masters of an art form that is seperate from the act of composing (though of course one does not preclude the other, just as being a translator does not preclude one from also writing). Even in arranging music for new combinations of instruments one does not claim authorship of the original music. It is an adaption, seperate from but indebted to the genius of the original author.
Looser translation tactics should also be seen in this light. And so while it is imperative that translation become more acceptable to engage academically, as Valentino suggests, and that translators are given credit and respect for the practice of their art, there are limits to how much ownership one can claim of the original text.
I'm delighted that the translator's afterward in this book is so substantial - I think this is something that publishers, should they choose to, could add to the reading and understanding of a text. But I'm wary of the heavy-handed claims being made. A sure way to lose respect for the art of translating is to infringe into the art of authoring without warrent.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Poetry as a Political Indicator
There are times when, in the often overwhelming inundation of information that I chose to subject myself to daily, threads almost miraculously make themselves clear to me. (I won't contemplate the wealth of connections that I'm sure slide by in the deluge). Last week I discovered the Poetry Foundation's wonderful podcasts, and have been listening in chronological order to the Poetry Magazine podcast. When I finally reached the discussion from October 2008 on the November 2008 issue I was not only interested in the conversation about Bolaño's poetry, but about Robert Archambeau's discussion on poetry and politics. Actually, it seemed as though he had a book forthcoming on the subject, though I haven't been able to find out anything about it.
Archambeau talks about something that most U.S. writers will smile knowingly about: poets who claim to speak truth to power, when power isn't listening. I think, though, the problem isn't really that the power isn't listing, it's that people aren't listing. In many wealthy industrialized nations, people are more or less capable of speaking for themselves, and so don't turn to literature to represent communities. The exception to this, of course, are subaltern communities (for example racial and religious minorities, gay and lesbian communities, and until very recently, women). But for the most part in wealthy industrialized nations the common recourse for writers who want to 'speak truth to power' is relying on language that can't be exploited, that stands outside of the logic of the marketplace as resistance to capital. This, of course, doesn't usually create direct connections or solutions to real problems, but offers instead an alternative sense of valuation - that there is more to life than subsistence. The problem is that when poetry offers abstractions in the face of real problems, it removes itself from directly addressing these problems. The more esoteric and apart from worldly issues it becomes, the fewer people rely on it to speak for their concerns, and the more removed it has to become in order to fulfill its sense of purpose. (These are my thoughts, though drawn from Archambeau's discussion).
So, does poetry accomplish anything? Archambeau says that in some circumstances, it does - especially in subjugated cultures and societies. Literature thrives, he says, in situations where vast percentages of populations are disenfranchised, because it offers an alternative means of expressing something that isn't being represented. In this way (and I hear a note of Neruda here) poetry speaks for an otherwise unrepresented community, it is a "voice for the voiceless." Not a community of poetry readers, but an identity group. They read poetry not for it's pure aesthetic enrichment of their lives, or for a search for morality, truth, beauty and the sublime, but because it is perhaps the only place in which their voices are heard, and in which their values are expressed. Archambeau even quotes a colleague as saying that "When you look at a country in which poetry is highly valued outside of a literary community, it's generally a sign of underdevelopment."
With these thoughts about poetry as a means of identity politics for disenfranchised communities whirling in my mind, I came across today an article in the online magazine Guernica in which Joel Peckham writes:
There is something here that strikes exactly at the heart of it: great, powerful and political poetry is for communities. And not communities of poetry readers and writers, but a larger sense of community, one not restricted by geography or language. Poetry can't convert (usually), but it can speak, it can galvanize and it can be the spark of ignition for communities to take shape and become heard around.
Poetry has power only when looking outside the individual, or the specialized literary community, to address and take part in the world around it. And it is not only powerful, but necessary.
Archambeau talks about something that most U.S. writers will smile knowingly about: poets who claim to speak truth to power, when power isn't listening. I think, though, the problem isn't really that the power isn't listing, it's that people aren't listing. In many wealthy industrialized nations, people are more or less capable of speaking for themselves, and so don't turn to literature to represent communities. The exception to this, of course, are subaltern communities (for example racial and religious minorities, gay and lesbian communities, and until very recently, women). But for the most part in wealthy industrialized nations the common recourse for writers who want to 'speak truth to power' is relying on language that can't be exploited, that stands outside of the logic of the marketplace as resistance to capital. This, of course, doesn't usually create direct connections or solutions to real problems, but offers instead an alternative sense of valuation - that there is more to life than subsistence. The problem is that when poetry offers abstractions in the face of real problems, it removes itself from directly addressing these problems. The more esoteric and apart from worldly issues it becomes, the fewer people rely on it to speak for their concerns, and the more removed it has to become in order to fulfill its sense of purpose. (These are my thoughts, though drawn from Archambeau's discussion).
So, does poetry accomplish anything? Archambeau says that in some circumstances, it does - especially in subjugated cultures and societies. Literature thrives, he says, in situations where vast percentages of populations are disenfranchised, because it offers an alternative means of expressing something that isn't being represented. In this way (and I hear a note of Neruda here) poetry speaks for an otherwise unrepresented community, it is a "voice for the voiceless." Not a community of poetry readers, but an identity group. They read poetry not for it's pure aesthetic enrichment of their lives, or for a search for morality, truth, beauty and the sublime, but because it is perhaps the only place in which their voices are heard, and in which their values are expressed. Archambeau even quotes a colleague as saying that "When you look at a country in which poetry is highly valued outside of a literary community, it's generally a sign of underdevelopment."
With these thoughts about poetry as a means of identity politics for disenfranchised communities whirling in my mind, I came across today an article in the online magazine Guernica in which Joel Peckham writes:
A nation does need its poets and poetry. However much people claim to dislike it, poetry—those articulated symbols and metaphors, those stories that resonate with a community and are therefore essential to human aspiration—responds to the basic need of individuals to reach beyond their small existence and connect with something meaningful. At its worst, poetry simply records the longings of an isolated individual but, at its best, when one poem or poet tunes into the longings of a people, poetry provides us with an articulated affirmation of our purpose as a culture—and indeed, culture cannot exist without it. This relates to why rhetoric is such an important part of the political sphere. A political speech attempts to give a vision in keeping with a nation’s core values while also trying to expand, adapt, and reaffirm those values for successive generations.
(Emphasis mine).
Guernica, April 2009
There is something here that strikes exactly at the heart of it: great, powerful and political poetry is for communities. And not communities of poetry readers and writers, but a larger sense of community, one not restricted by geography or language. Poetry can't convert (usually), but it can speak, it can galvanize and it can be the spark of ignition for communities to take shape and become heard around.
Poetry has power only when looking outside the individual, or the specialized literary community, to address and take part in the world around it. And it is not only powerful, but necessary.
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