Translating in Cambridge:Fun, Food, Friends and all things French

Translate in Cambridge was the latest installment in a series of high-level French <> English translation events held in various locations across North America, and then last year heading to Chantilly in France. It is unusual (unique?) in focusing specifically on one language pair, and on the actual craft of translation rather than business skills, marketing, specialisation and all the other aspects of a freelance career. After all, translators are writers in their target language, and you can be as clued up on everything else as you want, but if your translations aren’t up to scratch, there’s not going to be much repeat business.

 

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The Cam by the Jesus Common Lido – picture perfect Cambridge evening

I’d followed the related hashtags enviously in previous years, but felt that logistics were really against getting even to Chantilly. Cambridge though, is only just down the road. Surely it could be possible this time round? Our summer holiday was specifically planned to avoid clashes with both this event and the BCLT Summer School before it. The fees seemed eye-watering at first, but the Goethe Institut bursary for the Summer School made doing both events possible, and family events arranged themselves to permit doting grandparents to take on childcare for the duration so it seemed really meant to be.

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Kings College – quite a fancy porters’ lodge…

The venue was Kings College, Cambridge, resplendent in its faintly absurd architectural glories (with less romantic concrete add-ons round the back). The weather was (mostly) fine, the food fantastic. Tuesday evening’s formal dinner featured a truly stunning performance from the Lucy Cavendish Singers, while on the Monday we had the opportunity to see As You Like It performed in the college garden as part of the Cambridge Shakespeare Festival. Although it was rather chilly by the end, the atmosphere with bats flitting in the fading light and a magnificent sunset building over the “stage” was magical.

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… and the back view isn’t bad, either.

There were friends old and new to meet and make, networking and socialising, chatting over lunches and dinners, professional and personal conversations to be had. And for this introvert, there were welcome strolls from a very pleasant B&B a little way out of the city centre to ease me into the day, and explorations of the area around the college to stretch the legs and recharge the brain after lunch or before dinner, not to mention the chance to visit the chapel for free.

And the course? Well, there were talks on hunting down Gallicisms, or turning abstract French into hands-0n English; very practical discussions on issues such as press releases, subheads and job titles; a chance to work with Ros Schwartz on editing her first draft of Mireille Gansel’s memoir Traduire comme Transhumer – with her editor and author also in attendance; and my personal highlight, the opportunity to hear Anthea Bell OBE discuss her decades of experience translating Asterix. It was both a privilege and a welcome laugh at the end of the day; her depths of cultural and literary knowledge are incredible. Sadly I was too slow to get a copy of the latest book for signing, though.

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Anthea Bell tells Ros Schwartz how she had waited decades for the chance to use certain puns in the latest Asterix book

Running parallel to this was an English-French track with similar panels and seminars. There was a French>English translation slam, and an English>French one, which, as always, confirmed that there is no two translations of the same text will ever be the same. Four highly skilled and experienced translators had made four distinct but equally valid translations of two texts. Although the subject matter and prose might have left something to be desired, the resulting discussion was scintillating nonetheless! There were discussions of particular words, bugbears or bêtes noires, which offered useful options for rendering them in our own language. And so on. There were chances to have a go and times to listen (even if the darkened corner at the back of a lecture theatre is not a conducive place to listen to rapid French in an unfamiliar accent after a late night…).

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Special dispensation to stand on the grass!

I am now back to reality with a slight bump, pages of notes to organise, glossaries to write up, and a head buzzing with ideas and inspiration. This was a truly fantastic event, and many thanks go to Anne de Freyman for her determination to bring it to the UK and run it with the ITI. Magnifique! Next year, the event is heading back over the Atlantic, so watch out for Translate on Broadway, and there are rumours afoot of something similar being organised for Italian and German. Watch this space!

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One Hundred Shadows – Women in Translation Month

During the BCLT summer school, Deborah Smith (winner of the Man Booker International, publisher at Tilted Axis Press and all-round good egg) was tutoring the Korean group, and also launching her second book, One Hundred Shadows by Hwang Jungeun. Translated by Jung Yewon, this is described variously as a modern fairytale and a non-sentimental love story with a faintly sinister fantasy edge. There is something elusive about the writing, which is in keeping with the slippery nature of the story.

One Hundred Shadows by Hwang JungeunIt relates the touching relationship between Eungyo and Mujae, who work at different electronics repair shops in a market in a Seoul slum (a word they muse on, “I wonder if they call this kind of place a slum, because if you called it someone’s home or their livelihood that would make things awkward when it comes to tearing it down. Slum. Slum.”). It’s a trick employed a couple of times – repeating a word till it loses it’s sense – and it made me wonder how those words sounded in Korean, and if the sounds of the English words were at all similar, or how the effect differs.

There is also something strange going on, with people’s shadows starting to “rise”, to take on a life of their own, in a rather sinister way. This is never fully explored or spelled out, and the story is all the more unsettling for that.

I’m not sure that this is the sort of thing I’d have read if it hadn’t been for the circumstances of the book launch, the Prosecco and the chance to get a copy signed by the author, but that’s one of the serendipitous joys of the thing.

The book is published in October – check it out!

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Post-Referendum Reading – Vigilante

I haven’t been reading much lately, or it’s been taking me much longer to get through books than usual. There are all sorts of reasons for this, to do with family life, too much time on social media or playing silly computer games, but also to do with mental space and increasing anxiety around the impending national suicide and other indications that we do indeed live in interesting times.

I was trying to read Kate Atkinson’s A God in Ruins, which I’d been very much looking forward to after enjoying Life After Life. But this time, her dicking about with time just annoyed me, and the wartime and dysfunctional relationships issues got too much into my head. So I gave that up. It turned out that re-reading Lord of the Rings suited my mood much better. Tolkien may have been thinking of World War I when he wrote, but the world is apparently similarly going to hell in a handcart right now.

Then the referendum disaster struck, and concentration went out of the window altogether. I found myself hugely in sympathy with Lucy Mangan, writing in the Guardian about comfort reading, especially this part:

I am looking at my beloved Wodehouses at the moment and want to burn them. You unthinking fool, Wooster! You lucky, prewar, club-dwelling bastard! Where’s my Jeeves? Where’s the omniscient valet the nation needs to clean up a proliferating set of potentially disastrous consequences set in motion by the idiocies of a group of pea-brained Old Etonians like yourself? Where do you get off, being fictional when the rest of us are stuck in the real world? Wodehouse will not serve today.

Georgette Heyer didn’t work either, for similar reasons, but I did enjoy Jane Austen at her most acerbic in Northanger Abbey.

I tried some of the Amazon Crossing freebies from London Book Fair, but found them schlocky, or jarringly American. I looked at long and/or literary things translated by friends: the books looked back reprovingly, but I knew I didn’t have the staying power for them.

While Mangan headed for post-apocalyptic fiction, my mind eventually settled on Agatha Christie – I found the writing better than I remembered and even though these books still offer unnaturally neat resolutions there is satisfaction in that, and at least some comeuppances are dished out.

So, finally getting round to the point of this post, I was in the library while the boys stocked up for this year’s summer reading challenge, and saw a striking book cover:

 

This was just the right thing to get me finally out of my reading slump. Shelley Harris plays on the chick lit cliché of the bored, frustrated “wife and mother”, while tackling issues of body image, misogyny and everyday sexism, all wrapped up in a feminist thriller. It was entertaining enough to draw me in, gripping enough to keep me going, and thought-provoking enough to still be rattling around my mind a few days on.

Now August has been declared Women in Translation Month, so here’s hoping I can keep this momentum going, and share some more of what I discover.

See also:

A fuller review of Vigilante

Women in Translation Podcast

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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BCLT Summer School

I had wanted to do the BCLT Summer School for years, and particularly since gatecrashing the lovely German group at the Millennium Library in Norwich way back in 2012, and again in 2013, and hearing what fun they were having. And finally, finally, things worked out with holidays, and the boys able to have a week with Granny and Grandad, (to whom many thanks!) to make it possible to attend.

To have a week away from routine, if not, in my case, from home, working on a collaborative translation of an amazing text, with the author on hand to explain context and intentions and whether or not this particular word has a deep significance, uninterrupted and with the stimulation of working with other lovely translators… Bliss! Of a very intense and slightly nerdy sort.

The Enterprise Centre, UEA

We were based in the Enterprise Centre, UEA’s newest building. It has thatched walls and roof, and slightly space-age lighting that won’t do what you want it to because it’s so energy efficient, and walls you can write on, and super-whizzy rolling chairs and tables. All of which is apparently strangely conducive to creativity, because by the end of the week, we had produced a translation we were all proud of.

The German group were working on  two extracts from Rasha Khayat’s debut novel Weil wir längst woanders sind, which we gave the English title of Because We’re Elsewhere Now. It’s the story of an inseparable brother and sister, Basil and Layla, who are half-German and half-Saudi, whose childhoods and adult lives are split between these two very different cultures. Layla has gone back to Saudi Arabia and is intending to get married and settle into that very traditional culture, which Basil sees as backward. He can’t understand her decision, and this is  driving a wedge between brother and sister. Basil travels out for the wedding, determined to regain that closeness.

Weil wir längst woanders sind, Rasha Khayat, DuMont VerlagThe extracts we translated, with the expert assistance of the lovely Katy Derbyshire, our tutor for the week, are taken from two different chapters. The first is the opening of the novel, where Basil and Layla see snow for the first time in Germany. The second is after Basil’s arrival in Jeddah as the wedding preparations begin, and he meets his future brother-in-law Rami for the first time. There are interesting parallels between the two sections in the idea of never quite being at home anywhere, and Basil’s outsider view of both cultures.

The week finished with a celebratory afternoon of presentations, hearing the other groups’ work and presenting our own at Dragon Hall in Norwich – a far cry from the Enterprise Centre, this ancient building also blends the old and the new in exciting ways. I was so excited to finally go inside, having walked past many times, and it certainly lived up to its billing, even if a canapé reception didn’t quite equal dinner to lots of peoples’ minds.

 

Dragon Hall, rear view

Old and new reflected at Dragon Hall, new home of Writers’ Centre Norwich

All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable week, and highly recommended whether as a way into literary translation for those starting out, or of challenging and stretching yourself and your practice for those of us a little further on in our careers.

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BCLT Summer School, Part 2: creative writing?!

The BCLT summer school now has a creative writing focus as well as the main emphasis on translation, and I was awaiting the writing workshops with a certain trepidation – the whole point of being a translator is that you get to write amazing books without having to do the making stuff up part, after all! But these were actually some of the most interesting and inspiring sessions of the week. The organisers had a degree of pity on us, and often let us work from an existing text – after all the best way out of your comfort zone is to take small steps.

So we found ourselves creating new poems by changing the nouns in an existing one, or rewriting a piece of prose as a poem (or vice versa) and translating a Grimm fairytale by retelling it in a new form. Despite my fears, people seemed to enjoy what I wrote, and while I wouldn’t claim my efforts as great literature, it was yet another step on my path towards being less intimidated by poetry.

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Aftermath

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There may be trouble ahead…

I need to try and write something, to put down some of the contradictory thoughts jostling around in my head. I’m not quite sure where I am in the stages of Brexit, possibly somewhere between denial and bargaining still, maybe heading towards resignation. But mostly I feel sad. If I can forget about it for a while, I’m all right, but then I get a moment to think and all the emotions come flooding back. There’s anger too – at David Cameron for gambling our future against short-term political gain, at Gove and Johnson for shamefully manipulating public anger at problems they helped to cause for the sake of their own political ambitions but with no actual plan for if they “won”, and especially at the right-wing press for continually and gleefully printing downright lies to sell newspapers and help whip up an extremely ugly blend of fear, racism and general confusion. But I’m also angry with the Remain politicians for their cack-handed handling of the situation, for letting the Brexiters set the tone, for trying to match fear with fear, while not understanding that people already squashed under six years of austerity feel they have nothing to lose if you just bang on about the economy, stupid.

Why didn’t they get out there and explain what the EU actually does for us? Explain that freedom of movement cuts both ways, point out that restricting it would affect “people like us” too, publish the figures that reveal the Brexit lies for what they were, etc etc? But no, they left that to bloggers and Facebook posts, who couldn’t counter the blaring of the mainstream media. (With apologies to P. for stealing your metaphor:) The campaign was conducted at the level of telling a class of 6-year-olds there’s a monster in that room, with one group saying “if you run away, I’ll give you sweets” and the other lot offering “sweets if you stay in”. No wonder people voted to run away!

And I’m angry with our ridiculous electoral system. If there’s any more hideous word out there than Brexit, it’s “regrexit” – the remorse of people who didn’t realise that their “protest vote” would actually change things this time. People are so used to seeing elections as pointless, especially if they live in safe parliamentary seats, and to politicians breaking their manifesto commitments once safely elected, that they apparently didn’t think that this vote would have consequences.

We have been lied to on a massive scale, and whatever happens next, it’s not going to be pretty. There are a range of ways this could play out, depending who gets their act together first, and some will be less hideous than others. There is a huge lack of understanding in this country of what the European project means to the rest of Europe, and the level of hurt and bewilderment felt by those of us here, and on the mainland, who believe in it (which is not at all the same as saying the EU is unflawed – there was a fantastic opportunity here for a bit of real statesmanship, which could have reformed things fundamentally for everyone’s benefit, but no. We got David Cameron and his mixture of bluster, threats and incompetence).

But whatever happens next, we need to hold everyone responsible for this mess to account – the newspapers, the politicians of all parties who screwed this up so badly. We need to see that promises made are kept, that lies are revealed and punished through the ballot box, and the courts if necessary. And above all, we need to carry on working for a better world. Whatever happens next, we need to find ways of protecting the environment, human rights, workers’ rights and family lives that have been threatened by this result in all kinds of complicated and as-yet unforeseen ways. We have been burning bridges – now they need rebuilding. Anything we can do to encourage openness, friendship and communication is needed more than ever just now. Books, languages and translation play the same role in that as they always have. Let’s be kind to each other, let’s be idealistic, let’s be watchful. And please, if you’re happy about the outcome, don’t trample on, or belittle, other people’s fears, sorrow and anxiety.

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Even the weather’s turned apocalyptic!

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Tregian’s Ground

Tregian's Ground by Anne Cuneo, tr. Roland Glasser and Louise Rogers LalaurieI have just got to the end of Tregian’s Ground by Anne Cuneo, tr. Roland Glasser and Louise Rogers Lalaurie (And Other Stories, 2015).

I had been wanting to read this since I first heard that And Other Stories were going to publish something so far outside their normal mould – a big, fat historical novel about Francis Tregian, believed by some, including the author, to be the collector of the pieces in the Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, and subtitled “the Life and Sometimes Secret Adventures of Francis Tregian, Gentleman and Musician”. It is set in the Elizabethan and early Stuart era – up to the Civil War – and deals with plots and counter-plots, religious freedom/discrimination (the Tregian family are Catholics), and, naturally, a lot about music. It travels through Cornwall, London, France, Italy, Holland and probably quite a few other places I’ve forgotten, and includes encounters with Shakespeare and most of the great political and musical figures of the day.

After such a long wait, I am so glad it wasn’t a disappointment! To me, the book sits somewhere between The Other Boleyn Girl and Wolf Hall in the literary/highbrow-ness scale and anyone who enjoyed those would probably get on well with it.Francis is an engaging character and the period is genuinely fascinating. The switch between present and past tense for flashbacks/memories and more conventional narrative could become a little irritating but is generally well handled and I felt that Roland and Louise had done a great job in getting the historical voice not to feel either contrived or anachronistic. That said, some of the plot occasionally lapses into both faults – I wasn’t entirely convinced by the Shakespeare/Hamlet section, or that a 16th century gentleman would so accurately anticipate the concept of freedom of religion/conscience, but there we are.

There is also an afterword from the author explaining her sources and reasoning behind her assumptions, in which she freely admits to taking liberties for the benefit of the story. I quite like this as it helps with the wondering which parts are accurate that often goes with a historical novel.

The pace seemed to drag a little in the middle (although that might have been me getting distracted by birthday parties and other frivolities), but it was generally an engrossing and engaging read. If you like this kind of thing – I do – then it is the kind of thing you’ll like. Even if you don’t normally, I would still recommend it!

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