May 1st, 2006 | Agencies, Business, Essays, Translation | No Comments
A new trend regarding contracts
By Stafford Hemmer
A recent discussion on the NCTA web forum suggested that agencies are dispensing with a generally more lenient attitude toward employment terms and conditions in favor of a more legally airtight, formalized contractual relationship sealed by notarization. This article summarizes the viewpoints of several NCTA members who participated in the discussion.
When an agency engages an interpreter or translator, the respective contractual obligations are established by countersignature to the relevant documents, typically confidentiality and independent contractor agreements. Not uncommonly, both parties forego even these most basic of conventions—whether intentionally or by default—and work with each other on the basis of verbal agreements reached on the phone, or written covenants established by an exchange of emails. Yet these circumstances seem to be changing.
NCTA member Naomi Baer recently confronted this situation and asked fellow members, “Is anyone else being asked more frequently to notarize employment applications in order to get an assignment?” The case at hand pertained to a confidentiality agreement and a “proprietary agreement” that the agency wanted notarized by the translator-interpreter before consenting to give her the assignment. Although it was for a small project, the expectation was that it might lead to more serious work down the road. And yet the concept of having to pay to get set up to work with an agency seemed problematic, given the range of agencies Naomi has worked with, and given that, in general, she had no way to know if it would pay for itself over time.
Notarization refers to the certifying of documents by a notary public—an officer authorized by the state (such as California) who can also administer oaths, take acknowledgments, and take depositions if the notary is a court reporter as well.
“This new phenomenon seems to have reached epidemic proportions,” replied long-time NCTA member Peter Gergay. “Agencies that did not require notarized statements before, do so now, and nowadays new agencies with which I begin to do business tack it on almost routinely.” Not all NCTA members share the opinion that this phenomenon is so common; indeed, another long-time member, George Plohn, who has been a freelancer since 1990, translating into and from ten language combinations, claimed to have never heard about such a requirement.
Whether or not the trend is pervasive, both experienced translators agree on one thing: compliance is generally advisable. Peter replied that he uses a standard text that had been originally drawn up by educational credentialing institutions for diplomas and transcripts and subsequently approved—a long time ago—by government agencies and the ATA; he kindly volunteered to send interested colleagues a sample. He also added that he bills for the reimbursement of these charges ($10 per document) as well as for his time in getting the translations notarized. George added that he “would not hesitate to satisfy such a requirement if it would bring business.” But he also pointed out that his bank provides this service free of charge, and suggests that translators should find out from their own financial institutions if they provide such a free service; if not, he suggests opening a small account at another bank that would.
Clients often ask agencies, and ultimately translators, to obtain notarizations, for instance of a translated college transcript or birth record. In most cases, the notary is merely certifying that the translator presenting the documents has properly identified himself or herself to the notary. The notary is not attesting to the accuracy or veracity of the translation itself. So what does an agency gain by asking its contractors to get signatures to an employment contract notarized? Other than the obvious additional legal gravitas derived from the signature and stamp of a notary public added to an otherwise valid contractual relationship, it is difficult to extrapolate from the group list discussion why agencies are increasingly asking contractors to provide these notarizations.
Still, there was consensus among translators, interpreters, and agencies alike that understanding the phenomenon of notarization is important. Wrote Michael Alioto, who runs an agency based in Italy, “There is a lot of confusion in the U.S. translation market about rules that are either non-existent or vague at best.” He points out that this is not the case in Europe, where agencies often deal with notarized documents, and especially in the context of the Hague Convention. (Michael’s clients have Italian estate matters that have to be addressed via various powers of attorney). As Michael says, “Because we do many translations for direct clients and attorneys, I found this subject needs to have a legal foundation that is understood by all.”
May 1st, 2006 | Dutch, Essays, Literary Translation, Translation | No Comments
By Jeannette Ringold
During the February 14, 2006 NPR broadcast of “All Things Considered,” host Michele Norris interviewed the Dutch novelist Artur Japin about his latest book Een Schitterend Gebrek, which had just been translated into English as In Lucia’s Eyes. In an otherwise interesting interview that explored the difficulties of translating the title, no mention was made of the translator. We try here to fill in some of the holes.
Artur Japin found the story as a brief anecdote in the memoirs of Giacomo Casanova. It mentions Casanova’s first love, Lucia, who disappeared without warning. Mr. Japin became fascinated by the elusive Lucia, and in his novel he imagines what may have happened. Young Casanova was very hurt and wondered why he was abandoned. It turns out that Lucia was horribly disfigured by smallpox, resolved that she did not want Casanova’s pity, and decided to flee. In the novel Casanova finds her again many years later when she is a successful prostitute in Amsterdam. She always wears a veil which makes her mysterious and attractive to her customers and also hides her disfigured face.
Why the English title, In Lucia’s Eyes? Although the NPR interview made no pretense to be primarily about linguistic matters, it was nonetheless disappointing that neither the interviewer nor the author mentioned the translator, or otherwise asked how this book was “magically” transformed from Dutch into English. This is doubly regrettable since Mr. Japin was fortunate to have David Colmer, an excellent Dutch-English translator who is an author in his own right, do the translation. David Colmer’s preference for the title was A Great Imperfection.
The following excerpt from the dialogue between Ms. Norris and the author points out some problems in finding a good title in another language and culture:
Norris: I understand that the translation was particularly challenging because there is a Dutch word for deformity.*
Japin: Yes.
Norris: That lends a certain weight and surprise to Lucia’s character, but I understood there is no equivalent for that.
Japin: No, we couldn’t find, it mainly has to do with the title. I would have wanted it to be in the title.
Norris: What was the Dutch title?
Japin: Oh well … it sounds horrible. In Dutch it is Schitterend gebrek, which is like “a beautiful defect,” almost.
To illustrate the difficulty of translating this title, it is instructive to look at the various meanings of the noun “gebrek.” The standard Van Dale dictionary gives five different meanings of the word, including lack, want, shortage; hardship, deprivation; ailment, infirmity; and shortcoming, weakness.
The adjective “schitterend: brilliant, splendid, magnificent” is more straightforward, and “great” is an excellent translation.
In an email to me, David Colmer detailed some of the problems he encountered in finding a suitable title for the book. His experience is not unusual, as finding a title for a book can often be an excruciating experience. One difficulty was that numerous people were involved. In promotional material the book was first called A Splendid Flaw. The translator thought that was terrible, and fortunately everyone else thought so too. His suggestion of A Great Imperfection is what the section of the book called “Een schitterend gebrek” is still called in the translation. But the publishers rejected that for the title. David Colmer then offered “suggestion after suggestion” until they finally liked one: In Lucia’s Eyes. He regrets not keeping his list of suggestions!
My own experience in translating the Dutch novel Twee koffers vol by Carl Friedman is somewhat parallel to David Colmer’s. “Twee koffers vol” translates literally as “Two suitcases full”—too much like “two bags full” from the children’s rhyme. And the word “suitcase” is not appealing in a title. The suitcases in the novel were filled with precious belongings and were hidden from the Nazis during World War II, and one of the main characters is trying to find them again after the war. That’s why I felt that the title of the movie that was made of the book—Left Luggage—was also inappropriate, since luggage suggests travel. The author and the publisher agreed with me, and we all started compiling lists of titles; a few memorable ones were First Love and Einstein and Moles in the Violin. In the end it was the author who came up with the suggestion that pleased everyone, The Shovel and the Loom, where the shovel represents digging for the past and the loom represents the attempt to cover the past and go on with life.
Obviously, there are other considerations besides linguistic ones when seeking the appropriate title for a book. Publishers are concerned with titles that will sell, living authors have their preferences, editors have their concerns, and the translator has his or her own ideas and is often asked to translate and evaluate the various possibilities. At least there’s that!
* Editor’s note: In the original transcript, the word “no” was not included in this sentence. The author believes this to be in error.
Feb 1st, 2006 | Essays, Hebrew, Literary Translation, Translation | No Comments
New lessons in literature
By Merav Rozenblum
The Hebrew-language book market may be small in Israel, but it is extremely passionate. Consider that among a population of some seven million people, only about 100,000—after subtracting Arabic and Russian speakers, children, ultra orthodox Jews, and others who simply don’t read—are potential book buyers. Still, these are avid readers who need translators to quench their literary thirst.
In a country where half of all books published are translations, a typical publication run numbers about 1,500. Selling 4,000 copies of a book makes it a bestseller. Into this rather concentrated market, put a translator with the ability to work from an exotic language such as Japanese or Portuguese, or with the opportunity to translate an important novel such as the Harry Potter series or Life of Pi (by NCTA’s own Ofer Shorr), and the result is an environment in which Hebrew translators may receive recognition (if not some modest monetary rewards) that is virtually unheard of here in the States. This is especially true with regard to the current trend of re-translating much of the classic literature of the 20th century.
New perspectives
Why the re-translations? Efrat Lev, a Foreign Rights Director with The Deborah Harris Literary Agency in Jerusalem, explains that some world classics are taught in schools and there’s a real need to update the language. Modern Hebrew, after all—now about 140 years old—has developed rapidly in the past 40 years, and a 17-year-old girl today will not be attracted to a 1958 Hebrew translation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina. (The new translation of this Russian masterpiece became a bestseller within weeks of its publication.)
Several high-profile books have been retranslated recently in Israel, among them Nicholas Nickleby, by Charles Dickens. This book was re-translated by a well-known journalist, Irit Linor, an author in her own right, and a TV and radio personality well known for her acerbic wit. Whether it was because of her celebrity status that her name is featured prominently on the cover is open to speculation (Ms. Lev thinks it is something of a PR stunt), but the fact remains that that the translator has assumed a new prominence in this evolving author-translator-publisher relationship.
Language to the fore
In addition to Nicholas Nickleby, A.A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh has also seen a recent re-translation (supporters of the new translation say children can understand it more easily; opponents argue the language has been dumbed down), and other classics are also receiving fresh interpretations. Gili Bar-Hillel, who gained her reputation primarily as the translator of the Harry Potter series, is working these days on a new translation of The Wizard of Oz, of which she is a long-time fan.
For Huckleberry Finn, Yaniv Farkash deliberately did not use previous translations as a reference. “The point of departure was just so different,” said Mr. Farkash. “The previous translations focused on the story; in one of them, the translator, a famous author of children’s books, even decided to omit the murder scene, thinking it wasn’t appropriate for children. I wanted to convey the text as in the original language, with all its linguistic richness.”
Most of the translators of the great Western masterpieces first published in modern Hebrew in the 50s, 60s, and 70s were poets and writers, who felt it was their duty to teach the new language to readers through their work. These translations are therefore highly poetic, using a register that might sound stilted and unnatural to many of today’s native speakers.
Mr. Farkash is very much aware of his advantage as a young native-Hebrew speaker living in 21st century Israel. It has been only in the last couple of decades that the use of slang, as well as informal and colloquial language, has been legitimized in original Hebrew literature, and even more so in local Hebrew newspapers and media.
As if to underscore this point, one of last fall’s bestsellers in Israel was a 10,000-word dictionary of Israeli slang, which not only reflects the influx of foreign words into modern Hebrew, but also illustrates the ancient language’s challenge in adapting to modern times.
New words, new ideas
The Academy for the Hebrew Language (the Israeli equivalent of the Académie Française), which generally tries to inhibit the importation and use of foreign words, often tries to invent Hebrew alternatives to these imports. In this forum, the nation’s most respected linguists offer their creations, which are then debated (often vigorously) and voted upon. A list of new words is published several times a year, and while state radio and TV are asked to use them, the requests are not binding—and often not heeded.
“Every word has its fate,” explained Avraham Tal, deputy director of the Academy, admitting that the Academy does not have a stellar record of getting its creations into the modern vernacular.
The greatest challenge in the new translation of Huckleberry Finn was in fact the treatment of language. Mr. Farkash worked closely with his editor, a privilege that only translators working with the more serious publishing houses get. They wanted the Hebrew text to be fluid, dynamic, and fun, just like the original English. Mr. Farkash used his intuition and tried to differentiate between the various voices that Twain employs. The glowing reviews that the book received attest to his success.
Literary translator as celebrity? Welcome to Israel, where this idea is not necessarily a contradiction in terms
Note: Some material sourced from the article “Hebrew Slang Pushes Aside Older Words,” by Karin Laub, Associated Press.
Feb 1st, 2006 | Chinese, Essays, Translation | No Comments
By Song White
Stakeholder
A recent article in the Wall Street Journal reported on Deputy Secretary of State Robert Zoellick’s September 2005 speech to the National Committee on U.S.-China Relations, and the frustration felt by many Chinese officials and academics in attendance. “We need to urge China to become a responsible stakeholder,” said Zoellick.
The problem arose because there is not an official Chinese translation for stakeholder. In this article, I would like to discuss this, and two other words—endorse and leverage—in the political and financial sectors that are difficult to translate from English to Chinese (simplified).
I first encountered the word stakeholder fifteen years ago in a class for business students. One of the word’s English meanings is “one who holds the bets in a game or contest”; the Chinese word for this meaning—which I found in my outdated Chinese-English dictionary—is “赌金保管者” (du jin bao guan zhe).
But stakeholder is often used today with its more contemporary meaning of “one who has a share or an interest, as in an enterprise.” In the context of a company, stakeholders include those who have an interest in the company and can influence it, positively or negatively. Such entities can range from individual stockholders and employees to unions and customers to domestic and foreign governments, and even competitors. At a time when a planned economy was the dominant system in China, a business had only one entity to be concerned about: the State. Other internal and external constituents that make up the concept of “stakeholder” must be able to hold “stakes” before the word can represent a meaningful concept.
In the past 15 years, constituent stakeholders have begun to emerge in China. In 2001, China became a member of the World Trade Organization, making the country itself a constituent in the global trade institution. The Chinese translation for stakeholder seems to be lagging behind the change in China, although many translations had been previously offered. The issue is more of identifying a translation that sticks and is intuitive for use—that is, one which is commonly accepted and understood.
My translation in Chinese includes “相关成员” (xiang guan cheng yuan) (“related member”), “相关团体”(xiang guan tuan ti) (“related group”), or “相关团体成员” (xiang guan tuan ti cheng yuan) (“related group member”). For reference, it should be noted that the U.S. State Department’s translation is “利益相关的参与者” (“participants with related interests”), while Chinese scholars have offered “利害攸关的参与者”(“participants with related benefits and drawbacks”), “共同经营者”(“joint operators”), “参股人”(“shareholder”), and “合伙人”(“partner”).
Endorse
Now let’s look at our second word, endorse. The more “mechanical” meanings of endorse—of “writing one’s signature on the back (of a check, for example),” or “of placing (one’s signature), as on a contract, to indicate approval of its contents or terms”—are relatively simply translated into Chinese as “背书” (bei shu) and “认可” (ren ke), respectively.
However, translating the other notion represented by endorse—“to give approval of or support to, especially by public statement”—sounds awkward in Chinese (“为某人背书” [wei mou ren bei shu] [“endorse someone”]). That’s because “背书” (bei shu) also means “to recite a lesson from memory.” A teacher or parent usually gives “背书” (bei shu) as pupils’ homework. The Chinese translation “为某人背书” (wei mou ren bei shu) is likely to be in a twisted meaning that indicates the person is acting like a pupil when reciting a statement from his/her memory to show his/her support. As a result, I have chosen to stay with a conservative translation, “公开支持”(gong kai zhi chi) (“show support publicly”), or “支持”(zhi chi) (“support”) for “endorse” in the sense of supporting.
Leverage
Finally, our third word, leverage, has similar dynamics. This word’s original meaning is “the action of a lever,” which is rendered “杠杆作用” (gang gan zuo yong) in Chinese. As later applied to the financial sector, its meaning became “the use of credit or borrowed funds to improve one’s speculative capacity and increase the rate of return.” Today, of course, the word is found in many areas of business, as “to use, to utilize, and to improve.” Translating this concept into Chinese, however, is difficult since there is not a simple Chinese word to reflect the meaning. As a result, my own translation typically includes several Chinese words or phrases: “发挥优势” (fa hui you shi) (“employ advantages”), “运(使)用…”(yun (shi) yong …) (“use …”), and “达到最佳效益” (da dao zui jia xiao yi) (“reach maximum result”), to cover the single English word.
And what if the stakeholder uses her leverage to endorse someone? Oy vey! In the end, it is a translator’s excitement and joy—and challenge—to be on the cutting edge of introducing to a culture new words and concepts in a fast-changing world.
Dec 1st, 2005 | Essays, Spanish, Translation | No Comments
By Andrea Wells
Linguists are always very enthusiastic about “untranslatable” words. Theory says that a word without a one-to-one equivalent in another language is considered a lacuna; a lexical gap between the meanings of the word, expression, or turn of phrase in the source and the target languages. However, whether a word is truly translatable or untranslatable is debatable, because usually these difficult terms are in fact obscure expressions with a local flavor that cannot be precisely or concisely defined. One of the most challenging words I have come across in my ten years as a translator and editor that has this essence of untranslatability is the Spanish word duende (\doo-EN-day\).
What does the word duende mean and why is it so difficult to translate into English? The Spanish word itself has actually entered the English language; a straightforward definition being “ghost, imp, or elf.” The Random House Dictionary defines duende as a “goblin, demon, or spirit.” In Ireland, a leprechaun could be considered a duende. Irish folklore says that such duendes possess a treasure, usually a pot of gold, which a human may take when the duende is not looking. The word duende, however, has a deeper and more interesting meaning. According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, duende is “the power to attract through personal magnetism and charm.” Wikipedia, an online encyclopedia, adds that duende is a rarely explained concept in Spanish art, related to emotion, expression, and authenticity.
It is in this context that I would like to share with you how researching this word has brought back some vivid memories of my childhood in Salta, Argentina. As I was growing up, my grandmother used to tell me stories of a duende that she described as a playful goblin who was always being noisy and making a general nuisance of himself. This duende was locally referred to as Coquena. This tiny goblin, said to wear a coat, shorts, and sandals, is believed to protect the llamas and other animals in the desert area of La Puna in the north of Argentina. But I also remember my grandmother using the word duende in an emotional context. When I used to dance, she would clap with excitement and great emotion and shout “you have duende.”Only now do I understand what she was trying to say.
In Spain, people use the word duende when they go to corridas to see their favorite toreros and flamenco dancers. The Spaniards claim that the gypsies are responsible for the creation of the word duende. When gypsies entered Spain from France in the mid-1400s, they faced brutality and persecution. But after years of being targets of this cruelty, the gypsies found a way to express their anguish through a particular kind of dance - flamenco. The flamenco dancer is said to have duende.
Others have used the word duende to capture the mood of emotion and passion. Many Spanish poets use it to refer to an inspiration and even something magical. For example, the poet Garcia Lorca wrote in an essay exploring the complex and inspirational flavor of the word’s meaning, “the duende is a momentary burst of inspiration, the blush of all that is truly alive, all that the performer is creating at a certain moment.” And, “The magical property of a poem is to remain possessed by duende … for with duende it is easier to love and understand, and one can be sure of being loved and understood.”
As language professionals, we all need that inner strength that inspires us to properly communicate through words the emotions and feeling of the writer or speaker. In this state, it might fairly be said that we have achieved duende.
Sep 1st, 2005 | Essays, French, Translation | No Comments
By Yves Avérous
In my language direction, English to French, the first word that comes to mind when I am asked about untranslatable words or expressions is serendipity. And, in fact, I’m apparently not the only one: in June, 2004, a British translation company voted serendipity one of the ten most difficult words in the English language to translate. But the problem in French, as it turns out, is less about finding an equivalent concept than it is about finding as beautiful a word! (Although the word form has lately been imported into French as sérendipicité or sérendipité, these are not accepted, or even known, usages.)
It took an extremely refined Earl of England, Horace Walpole, to coin a noun so flourished and evocative. And discovering this word for the first time was for me—as I suspect it might be even for native English speakers—itself serendipitous, a “happy discovery” or “happy coincidence.”
Serendipity has no direct equivalent in French, but there is more than one popular expression to translate this happy turn of fate. “Ça tombe à pic,” “quel heureux hasard,” or even the optimistic saying “le hasard fait bien les choses.”
Here is a word with the quality of never being boring; it conjures up the most exciting and extravagant stories. Even the sound of it stirs the imagination: “serene,” “Serengeti,” “dippity-doo,” “des petits sereins” (little birds) … and all sorts of pleasing notions. Serendipity, in fact, comes from a quite beautiful proper name in itself: “Serendip,” an old name for the island of Sri Lanka, also known as Ceylon. And it is a legendary tale, “The Three Princes of Serendip,” which so enthralled Walpole that it inspired him to create our untranslatable word!
The connection? Ceylon was fashionable at the time of the writing of the tale, and riddle-solving in the literary salons of elegant Venice even more so. What made the three princes of Serendip successful was their great sense of observation and deductive reasoning, which led to Walpole’s notion of “a gift for discovery by accident and sagacity while in pursuit of something else.”
The original definition of serendipity is indeed “discovery by accident,” but in a very neutral, not necessarily happy, way. When, for example, Alexander Fleming noticed as he was cleaning his laboratory that penicillin mold had contaminated one of his experiments, the discovery of this wonder drug could certainly be said to have been a “serendipitous” event.
These days, one of the best ways to make serendipitous discoveries is to browse the Internet with the help of a search engine such as Google or Wikipedia, the online encyclopedia. Using either of these tools one can, and often does, stumble upon unexpected (and sometimes unexpectedly happy) discoveries. (A caveat—because Wikipedia is written by its readers in a collaborative effort, not all that is published there is to be taken as gospel. Perhaps that’s why the French version of the serendipity article is titled “Sérendipité”!)
Wikipedia will, however, reward you with an article by Robert Boyle on “The Three Princes of Serendip,” which brings to light the amazing voyage of the tale from its introduction to a Western audience in 1557 by Venetian publisher Michele Tramezzino to its ultimate role almost 200 years later in inspiring the famous word. It was in 1754 that Lord Walpole acknowledged in a correspondence to his friend Horace Mann the receipt of a painting, painstakingly obtained, as serendipitous.
The final words on the subject belong to author John Barth who, in The Last Voyage of Somebody the Sailor (1991), wrote a beautiful evocation of serendipity: “You don’t reach Serendip by plotting a course for it. You have to set out in good faith for somewhere else and lose your bearings, serendipitously.”
May 1st, 2005 | Essays, Translation | No Comments
By Ines Swaney
With this column we begin a series on words and phrases—in English and other languages—that pose particular difficulties in translation. The idea for the series was a set of articles on the same theme on the website opendemocracy.net. Long-time NCTA member Ines Swaney gets us started, with an overview of the topic.
When I was asked to contribute an article on the subject of untranslatable words, my first thought was to select a few chosen items from those I’ve been forever gathering, and point out the inherent difficulties in rendering these terms into another language. But then I realized that the level of untranslatability of a given word or expression depends to a large degree on the language pair we are dealing with.
We could take an anglo-centric approach and assume that we are always translating either from or into English. However, we all know professionals who translate or interpret from one language into another without English being part of the picture. For example, a close colleague is quite comfortable working between Spanish and German, in either direction. So it would seem that what becomes challenging when the English language is involved in our work might in other instances not be an issue at all.
Let’s take the simple English word “you.” In Spanish we would need to figure out whether to use the formal or informal version, and also whether it is “you” in the singular or “you” in the plural. I confess that on more than one occasion while communicating in Spanish with individuals also fluent in English, I have made a deliberate switch to English in my conversation, for the sole purpose of not having to decide which Spanish version of “you” I should use: either the “tú” (informal) or the “usted” (formal).
There are some languages, such as Polish or Hungarian, where a phrase as simple as “My cousin got married” becomes untranslatable, unless further information is provided. In both of these languages, the translator or interpreter must first find out whether this cousin was male or female, because the gender will dictate which form of the verb “to marry” should be used.
Then there are situations in which you know exactly how to express the concept in both languages, but subtle nuances and the “politically correct” climate make our translating task almost impossible. A few years ago I made up a phrase that I considered virtually impossible to translate in a way satisfactory to everyone: “The child was raised by a single parent in the inner city.”
To properly translate this into Spanish, one would first need to know, as we learned above, the gender of the child. But beyond that, there’s a difference between calling someone an “unwed mother” or “unwed father” vs. using the more contemporary term “single parent.” Some single parents are divorced, others never married, others widowed. Spanish has no specific word for “parent,” a word that exists only in its plural version. And what is “inner city”? Is it a ghetto, or a slum? Not necessarily so. Is it “downtown”? Nope. So far, the most acceptable rendering of “inner city” that I’ve been able to come up with in Spanish translates back into English as “the guts of the city” or “the innards of the city,” using the same words as would generally describe the internal organs of a human being or animal.
The extremely detailed and thorough McGill Pain Questionnaire contains a long list of words describing every possible nuance and type of pain that one could ever imagine. Originally in English, it now appears to have been translated into quite a few other languages. Nothing seems to match English in brevity. At least in Spanish, many types of pain can only be expressed in lengthy, descriptive terms such as “as if you were being poked,” or “as if you were being pinched.” Just as we’ve become accustomed to dictionary and software reviews, it might be an interesting exercise for readers to find a version of this Questionnaire translated into the language of their choice and provide a critique as to the quality of the work. It should be a challenging experience.
One final thought: it is my hope that I won’t have to translate this article … since it contains so many words that are tough to translate, including the word “challenging” in the preceding paragraph.
May 1st, 2005 | Essays, Interpretation, Movie Review | No Comments
By Carolina Arrigoni-Shea
Interpreting, as a form of mediating oral communication among diverse language groups, has been with us since ancient times. Yet, its recognition as a profession—and as a field of study per se—is relatively recent. As many of us eagerly await the release of the film The Interpreter, our hopes are that this production will help bring the significance of the profession to the forefront of public awareness.
You are a member of the U.N. Security Council’s elite core of simultaneous interpreters. One day, in the course of your duties, you overhear an assassination plot targeting an African head of state, spoken in a rare dialect few people other than you can understand. As you report the threat to the FBI, you inadvertently become the center of an international crisis, and thus put your own life at risk. The U.S. Secret Service is now charged with your protection but, as events escalate, a dark shadow of suspicion is cast over you, as well. Will a protector who does not fully trust you be able to keep you safe?
Such is the dilemma of the lead character in Universal Pictures’ new film, The Interpreter. A tale of international intrigue, political tension, romance and, yes, interpretation, at the very highest levels of the profession. How did the film come into being? What behind-the-scenes maneuvering was required to get it produced? And how will it play to the uninitiated public?
A bit of history provides some context. The United Nations General Assembly established simultaneous interpreting as a permanent service in November, 1947, following the precedent set by the International Military Tribunal in Nuremberg after World War II.
Since that time, the U.N. Interpretation Service has grown considerably, and today, the Chief of the Service sets the course for 120 permanent interpreters and 80 additional freelancers. These linguists are the force behind the six language sections of the United Nations: Arabic, Chinese, English, French, Russian, and Spanish (otherwise known as the “official” U.N. languages).
Hollywood comes calling
When the U.N. linguists learned that a major film production featuring an interpreter as the protagonist would be shot at the organization’s headquarters, they were naturally very excited. “It’s always very interesting and we thought it would put the profession on the map,” commented Brigitte Andréassier-Pearl, Chief of the Interpretation Service at U. N. Headquarters in New York. If the curious and interested reactions of the film crew are any indication, the movie-going audience will certainly be awakened to the magic of the interpreting craft.
For the record: The Interpreter marks the first time a motion picture has ever been granted access to the inner corridors of the United Nations’ historic home in East Manhattan. Yet, initially, director Sydney Pollack was denied authorization to film inside the politically-charged sanctuary—just as others were before him, including Alfred Hitchcock. But Mr. Pollack argued the case before Secretary General Kofi Annan, stating that, although The Interpreter was a fictional thriller, the story was in line with the values of the United Nations. Highlighting the principle of “diplomacy over violence,” the theme of the film certainly carried a strong weight in the final decision. And as an added bonus, Mr. Pollack’s crusade received backing from key players within the U.N. Department of Public Information and the New York Film Offices (at both city and state level).
Filming began in March 2004, and had to follow strict guidelines. “They could only shoot on weekends,” recalled Ms. Andréassier-Pearl. “They would come at 6:00 PM on Fridays, and that went on for about four months … the whole neighborhood was invaded with trailers, trucks and equipment.” Somehow, despite the usual glitz and commotion which befits any true Hollywood production, filming The Interpreter did not disrupt the organization’s regular activities. It was understood that the film could pose no diversion to the Security Council whatsoever. Thus, each Monday morning when the U.N. staff returned to their posts, all was exactly back to normal.
Working with the stars
In her capacity as Chief of the Interpretation Service, Ms. Andréassier-Pearl was the ideal candidate to serve as consultant for the film, although her path up through the ranks was hardly traditional. She had first entered the organization 34 years ago, as a secretary. “I am not the typical case because I was already working in the U.N. before becoming an interpreter,” she said. “As a fringe benefit when you work for the United Nations, you can take language courses during lunch time. I was interested in Chinese and joined the Chinese class. There were a lot of interpreters trying to add languages, official languages, and I met several of them. That’s how I was introduced to the work of the interpreter at the U.N., and I got the idea of becoming one. But as you can imagine, it doesn’t happen overnight.” A few years later, Ms. Andréassier-Pearl joined the French Section staff and eventually went on to lead the unit for three years, prior to her appointment as head of the entire Service.
Given that her own language story is somewhat non-traditional, what is the more typical road to the much desired U.N. booths? Most interpreters come to the U.N. from interpreting schools. With a degree behind their names, interpreters the world over apply for jobs at the United Nations and sit for competitive exams when—or rather “if”—these are offered. “You have to understand one thing,” noted Ms. Andréassier-Pearl. “It is such a good job that nobody quits. There are openings when people retire. So that’s when we organize the examinations.”
As the film’s U.N. interpreting consultant, Ms. Andréassier-Pearl worked directly with Academy Award® winning actress Nicole Kidman. In order to help her prepare for her role, the Chief Interpreter led Ms. Kidman around the hallways of the U.N. Headquarters, showing her the imposing, and familiar, sites of the General Assembly and the Security Council, and accompanying her to the interpreters’ booths. “Everywhere we walked around in the U.N., people turned in awe—like we all do when we see celebrities,” said Ms. Andréassier-Pearl. “I felt like a million dollars when I was taking her around, that’s for sure.”
The actress observed regular U.N. meetings and sessions. She watched the interpreting process closely, and asked questions about the profession that would contribute to the depth of her character. In addition to this, Ms. Kidman worked with a dialect coach to become fluent in the fictitious African language dubbed “Ku” (her mother tongue on the screen), as well as to gain proficiency in French and Spanish.
As for director Sydney Pollack, he is known for his thorough research and desire for authenticity when making films. For this story, he probed to uncover the typically mysterious and anonymous life of an interpreter. “He’s a great professional to work with,” remarked Ms. Andréassier-Pearl.
In fact, a very unique contribution to the film originated from their collaboration. During one of their many conversations, Mr. Pollack inquired “What sort of hobbies do interpreters have? What do they do in their free time?” Ms. Andréassier-Pearl tried to explain to him that it was difficult to speak on behalf of the 100+ people that work at the Interpretation Service, but director Pollack insisted: “For instance, you—what do you do in your free time?” It turns out that the U.N. Chief Interpreter is also an accomplished musician, who belongs to an orchestra, and plays the bassoon. She talked with Mr. Pollack about her hobby and the idea stuck. In the film, he gave the character of the interpreter a musical bent. “Now, in the movie, it’s actually a flute,” explained Ms. Andréassier-Pearl. She wonders whether Nicole Kidman will appear playing music only briefly, but regardless of how long that shot lasts, she is pleased that her “hobby” made it into the film.
Into the public’s mind
Going beyond the realm of cinematography, what is the general public’s perception of U.N. interpreters, and the interpreting profession as a whole? In the words of Brigitte Andréassier-Pearl: “When we first started, everybody was in awe of the profession, wondering ‘How can this be done? Somebody is speaking a given language and the interpreters are rendering in another language at the same time—simultaneously—what is being said.’”
In all likelihood, the release of The Interpreter will contribute to a stronger, more widespread awareness of the highly demanding and specialized nature of interpreting. Already, the publicity leading to the event has generated much interest in this not-so-publicized calling. For sure, director Pollack promises to keep us on the edge of our seats because “In the right hallway, at the right time, all it takes is a whisper to tip the balance of power.”
Production Notes
The Interpreter
Starring: Nicole Kidman, Sean Penn, Catherine Keener; Directed by: Sydney Pollack; Universal Pictures; nationwide release April 22, 2005
Locations for the first film ever to be shot inside the U.N. Headquarters include the General Assembly and the Security Council, as well as corridors and hallways of the complex.
Alternative options in case authorization was denied included building a replica of the U.N. General Assembly in Toronto, using miniatures and resorting to computer-generated images.
Original U.N. rooms and furnishings were used in most cases, except for the actual interpreting booths, which were too small and cramped to allow for reverse camera angles. They had to be recreated on a soundstage.
Kidman’s character, and that of the threatened head of state, hail from an entirely fictitious African country named “Matobo.” Likewise, this nation’s language, dubbed “Ku,” is an imaginary tongue developed by linguists—a cross between Swahili and Shone.
The distinction “interpreter” vs. “translator” became an inside joke between the U.N. Chief Interpreter and director Pollack. Almost automatically, his typical utterance “you translators” would be followed by an, “oops, interpreters.”
Filming at the U.N. took place only after hours, on weekends.
Each member of the production—from the stars to the grips—was required to wear ID badges and go through security screening every day. Equipment was regularly inspected by bomb-sniffing dogs.
Some of the extras in the film are actual U.N. staff members.
Special thanks to Brigitte Andréassier-Pearl for her generous time; Universal Studios Publicist Tim Black for his timely assistance; and to the many NCTA interpreters who shared their valuable insights into the profession.
Feb 1st, 2005 | Essays, Literary Translation, Translation | No Comments
By Steven Goldstein
Part I of this series, “The Language of Magic,” appeared in the December 2004 Translorial and addressed several of the more important cultural and language-related issues involved in the translations of the Harry Potter books. This installment covers various contractual, procedural, and otherwise special challenges that the translators faced.
As July celebrations go, it can’t possibly hold a candle to the pomp and ceremony of, say, the national Independence Days of countries like Canada, France, or the United States.
But then, nobody’s talking about those festivities the way they’re buzzing about the upcoming birthday of Harry Potter, VI.
With Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince— the penultimate book in the tale of the magical young wizard - set to be published on July 16th, 2005, Potterphiles the world over are already kicking into overdrive. The rumor mills have started cranking. Chat rooms are overflowing. And after an unusually long period of slumber this time around, the sleeping giant that is Potter global merchandising has once again been awakened. Welcome to the next installment of Harry Potter, Superstar. And to the workings of the translators who are so integral to its production.
Working for a living
Torstein Høverstad, the Norwegian translator of Harry Potter, is among the many who have described the experience of being a literary translator as that of attempting something inherently impossible, being badly paid, and remaining virtually invisible— and that’s if you’re successful. Yet still, in our celebrity-addled world, it is hard to imagine that there’s not at least a certain cachet that comes with being a Harry Potter translator, basking in the ever-widening glow of rock-star author J.K. Rowling’s fame, fortune, and adulation. This cachet does, in fact, have some truth to it, but the reality is often far different from our perceptions.
In Part I of this series, we saw how the Potter translators had a certain freedom to decide for themselves on matters of linguistic integrity, most notably in whether or not to translate Rowling’s marvelously whimsical and inventive names. Torstein Høverstad believed that everything in the original that could be translated should be translated. Many of the 60-odd other translators, however, opted for a much less aggressive posture in the matter, leaving many of the names in their original forms.
Much of this, although admittedly not all, has had to do with the entrance of Warner Brothers into the picture. In 1999, around the time of the publication of the third book in the series, the media conglomerate purchased the rights to the entire Harry Potter franchise, in effect buying creative control for how all subsequent items in the series— movies, toys, video games, and yes, foreign book translations— would be marketed. With this came the company’s attempt— largely successful, it should be noted— to impose on the translators a contract that would oblige them to give up many of the translation rights that they had originally held.
The translators must wait, like everyone, for the English publication
In addition to restricting or even forbidding the translation of names— which would make it easier to conduct global marketing campaigns— the contract generally redefined the terms of agreement, including remuneration and deadlines. Those translators who had the most flexibility in negotiating these conditions with their individual publishing houses were those, like Hoverstad, who had completed translations before Warner Brothers appeared on the scene. At the other end of the spectrum, however, the negotiations tended to be far harsher: in one notable instance, the Catalan translator of the first four novels, Laura Escorihuela, adamantly refused to give up her rights by signing the contract, and was thus barred from translating subsequent Harry Potter books.
And what do Harry Potter translators get paid for their efforts? It varies, of course: while royalties are rare anywhere and in some countries, like China, the rate can actually be below market, in general fees range from slightly above the standard market rate to even fairly generously above it in certain countries. Even in the latter instances, however, most of the translators will still say that they are paid like … well, like translators.
A need for speed
Much has been written about the often brutal deadlines imposed on the Potter translators. And much of it is true. As Warner Brothers is intent on preventing any leaks of the stories to the general public, the translators must wait, like everyone else, until publication of the original English version before being able to begin work.
Although a five-month period has not been unusual in some cases for the most recent, very long volumes, there is often pressure from Warner Brothers to have the translations completed much more quickly. Jean-Francois Menard, the French translator, translated the 700-plus page fourth book, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, in just 63 days. Torstein Høverstad negotiated a bonus percentage with his publisher if he was able to finish the same book in a similar two-month period. (He did.) And Hanna Lutzen and Victor Morozov each formulated plans to translate the even longer Book V, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, into Danish and Ukranian, respectively, in the same eight-to-ten week timeframe.
Gili Bar-Hillel, the Hebrew translator, agrees that the pressure is intense but in her case believes that this actually contributes to the quality of her translations, for two reasons: first, she must by necessity be single-mindedly focused on the task, and second, everyone around her— including her family— is geared to helping her work as fast and as effectively as possible.
Even in the face of such pressures, the translators tend, on the whole, to work alone (although their work is of course checked by the publisher’s professional editors and proofreaders). Lia Wyler refused to hire an assistant for the Brazilian Portuguese version, saying that she would in effect need a clone of herself, someone with an identical linguistic background, right down to her neighborhood and accent. “Language is collective,” she says, “but vocabulary is extremely individual.” Even when confronted with difficult linguistic problems, the translators often must rely on their own ingenuity and creativity (and dictionaries) to solve them. Contact with J.K. Rowling is not an option, as the author has generally not made herself accessible to the translators, nor has her agent been especially forthcoming on problematic areas of the translations.
Of pirates and proofreaders
Publishers demand speed for another reason: the existence of “pirate,” or unofficial, translations, that are often collaborations of Potterphiles on the Internet, and which can be published months ahead of the sanctioned version. In China, several Harry Potter fans started to translate Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix two months before the publisher’s paper edition was due to appear, updating it on the Internet at a rate of 10,000 Chinese words a day. Although these counterfeit translations are for obvious reasons of a generally inferior quality, they demonstrate the zeal of Potter fans to get their hands on the stories as quickly as possible.
A somewhat more satisfying, but no less vexing, issue is that of the hordes of Potterphiles who care so much about the books that they read every word as if they were professional proofreaders or editors. Within a week of the Israeli publication of Book V, Gili Bar-Hillel already had a list of four mistakes that readers had found, including a missing period, a missing letter, and two minor spelling mistakes (all of which were corrected in subsequent printings). This was nothing, however, compared to the ten-year-old bilingual Brazilian child who challenged— quite publicly and aggressively— Lia Wyler’s Portuguese translation of the difficult word “muggle”!
Readers become proofers and editors
A tale in motion
Beyond the contracts, the money, and the deadlines, the Harry Potter series presents one final, and unusual, challenge: it is an unfinished story; the fact is, some things are simply unknowable until J.K. Rowling puts the final period at the end of the final sentence of the seventh book. None of the translators was aware there would be a second book until each had completed work on the first. Lia Wyler acknowledges that this fact would certainly have influenced her reinvention of certain proper names. The Spanish translators did, in fact, go so far as to make a mid-course correction: they had translated “Professor Sinistra” as (a masculine) Profesor Sinistra, and had to make a quick gender change to Profesora Sinistra when they found her dancing with Mad-Eye Moody in Book IV.
Retranslations are commonplace with great literature. Is it possible that once the series is finished, and perhaps after a generation has passed, other translators, who might be able to work at leisure, would want to tackle the saga anew, in the quest of new versions that might reach a fuller potential? Maybe. But for now, our current translators have only one thing on their minds. A birthday, this summer.
Test Yourself
How would you translate the famous “Riddle of the Sphinx,” from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire? Give it a try, and then check your translation against that of the published versions, at http://www.iti.org.uk/indexMain.html. If you don’t have Internet access, drop a line to the editor for a copy of the answers.
(Source: TransLittérature, ITI Bulletin, No. 24, Winter 2002, Paris, with kind permission.)
The Riddle of the Sphinx
”First think of the person who lives in disguise,
Who deals in secrets and tells naught but lies.
Next, tell me what’s always the last thing to mend,
The middle of middle and end of the end?
And finally give me the sound often heard
During the search for a hard-to-find word.
Now string them together, and answer me this,
Which creature would you be unwilling to kiss?”
References
For more information on Harry Potter translators, see the following resources, which in part informed this series:
- “The Translatability of Harry Potter,” by Miranda Moore, in the Wikipedia Internet Encyclopedia
- “Harry Goes to Paris,” Translatio (FIT), Vol. 4, 2003
- “Harry Potter for Children, Teenagers and Adults,” by Lia Wyler, Meta XLVIII, 1-2, 2003
Special thanks to Gili Bar-Hillel and Lia Wyler for their generosityin sharing their illuminating insights into the translation experience. The author is also extremely grateful to the many NCTA members who contributed their impressions, opinions, and encouragements, without which this series would have been by far the poorer: Thank you Catherine Theilen-Burke, Brigitte Keen, Anne Milano Appel, Naomi Baer, Martin Hoffman, and Christoph Niedermair.
Feb 1st, 2005 | Essays, Interpretation, Opinion, Translation | No Comments
By Marianne Pripps-Huertas
What is interculturalism? As globalization moves to the fore as one of the most powerful socio-economic influences of the new century, communication and understanding across cultures become ever more important. Are our well-practiced services of translation and interpretation enough to help the peoples of a shrinking world understand each other? In this article, NCTA member and interculturalism expert Marianne Pripps-Huertas sheds light on this emerging field.
When I first discovered the world of intercultural communication back in 1986, it confirmed for me many of the ideas I had had for several years, especially after arriving at Stanford University, where I did my Master’s thesis in Applied Communication Research. At the time, I went through a difficult, and unexpected, period of culture shock: professors didn’t look out for their students; teaching assistants taught most of the classes; and, with the exception of a fellow student named Shining Chen, from Taiwan (to whom I shall always remain grateful for her constant help), students wouldn’t share their notes or provide assistance to their peers because of competition - all of which was completely unheard of, and even unacceptable, in my country.
Origins and practices
What is intercultural communication? What defines interculturalism? And more to the point, what role does it play in the life of a translator/interpreter? Noted anthropologist Dr. Edward T. Hall was the first to define the field and provided solid scholarship. Culture as such is now defined in several (and hotly contested) ways, but one of the simplest and most straightforward is the traditions, customs, norms, beliefs, values, and thought-patterning passed down from generation to generation. Communication is an element of culture. Godwin C. Chu observed that every cultural pattern and every single act of social behavior involves communication. Thus, to be understood, both concepts must be studied together. Intercultural communication generally refers to face-to-face interactions among people of diverse cultures, a slightly different concept from cross-cultural communication, which refers to comparing phenomena across cultures.
Consider the following exchange, excerpted from a court transcript:
Magistrate: Can you read and write?
Defendant: Yes.
Magistrate: Can you sign your name?
Defendant: Yes.
Magistrate: Did you say you cannot read?
Defendant: Hm.
Magistrate: Can you read or not?!
Defendant: No.
Magistrate: [Reads statement.] Do you recall making that statement?
Defendant: Yes.
As a court interpreter, I encounter similar exchanges frequently. Yet my duties as an interpreter forbid me to intervene to help clear things up. It would be in my role as an interculturalist that I could help unravel this obvious miscommunication. Permission to do so depends on the relationships the interpreter has developed with the parties involved. Personally, I have a very good and longstanding relationship with the judges, attorneys (on both sides of the equation), and others at my courthouse. They have understood and supported my intervention as a cultural specialist when they have recognized that there was an obvious issue. Indeed, many experts now believe that the traditional interpreter or translator role will give way to one where the professional in both fields will become a cultural mediator.
Beyond such courtroom intervention, what does an interculturalist do, exactly? On any given day, interculturalists may train a group of businesspeople on the finer points of a country’s business practices. Or help a businessperson and his family with the social issues involved with re-entering their native culture after a long sojourn abroad. Some interculturalists like myself do research on different aspects of culture. In my case, I’m interested in acting and media, and also the development of cooking. Yet, we might be teaching students who will be going abroad, or taking Rotarians on a virtual cultural tour of a country they will visit with the organization.
In many ways the saying “know thyself” is not well said. It is more practical to say “know other people!”
-Menander, Greek poet (343-292 B.C.)
Skills for the global community
Interculturalism as a field has been growing, most especially with the advent of globalization, as companies recognize the need to understand the cultures in which they do business. An example of this is the creation of Global Teams, a collection of specialists who work together virtually to resolve specific problems within a company. One of the first institutions to hire interculturalists was the U.S. Army, after it started opening up bases all over the world and needed to assess readiness to serve overseas. Today, many different types of companies, institutions, and individuals have a need for intercultural expertise.
Although it may at first seem counterintuitive, this expertise doesn’t necessarily involve language all the time. A question we’re asked often, in fact, is whether a monolingual person who’s never lived abroad can be an intercultural expert. My answer is always a resounding “Absolutely!” I work with quite a few trainers who are monolingual and excellent interculturalists because they share specific skills or traits that are necessary to perform competent training and intercultural work. These include the acceptance and respect of differences, an open-mindedness to new ideas, and the ability to listen carefully.
Dr. Fred Jandt, a researcher in intercultural issues, notes that good intercultural communicators have personality strength, communication skills (verbal and nonverbal), psychological adjustment, and cultural awareness?not all of which, obviously, automatically come with being bi-or multilingual. The mere fact of speaking more than one language, or having lived in another country, in and of itself does not make us instant cultural experts. Even though I grew up bilingual and bicultural, I had to acquire and practice some of these traits, just as I had to learn translation and interpreting skills that did not come easily. In fact, I know of interpreter colleagues who possess none of these traits and would not make good interculturalists. As unique aspects of each culture are reflected through its language, the translator/interpreter is well served if he can leverage these aspects - indeed if he can apply the very principles of interculturalism - to help in his work of the accurate transmission of thoughts and ideas.
Schools and programs
How can a translator/interpreter become an interculturalist? While, as noted above, such expertise is not automatic, what we do have is the base on which to build, and the way to achieve such expertise is through training. There are several places in the USA and Canada that offer training in intercultural work. I have personally done extensive training for several years at the Intercultural Communication Institute, located in Portland, Oregon. ICI conducts one-, two-, and three-week intensive training courses during the summer, led by leaders in the field at Pacific University in Forest Grove, Oregon. ICI also offers three distinct certifications and a Master’s program with The University of the Pacific in Stockton, California. At present, I’m working on two new face-to-face seminars for interpreters and translators which will be submitted to the Judicial Council of California and ATA for continuing education credit. I also plan to establish a website from which I will offer online seminars for the benefit of colleagues who are unable to attend live seminars. This information will be available through the associations.
In addition, the Society for Intercultural Education, Training & Research (SIETAR), to which I belong, promotes and facilitates intercultural learning and work through professional interchange. SIETAR-USA is a membership organization for people from many cultural and professional backgrounds, who work within many environments and professions, including business and industry, consulting, training, K-12 and higher education, counseling, and all aspects of the media and arts, to name a few.
Regarding compensation, I can say only that one shouldn’t expect to become wealthy by doing intercultural work. As with translation and interpreting, the best-trained practitioners don’t necessarily work all the time or receive excellent compensation. However, a trained interculturalist/interpreter/translator who can market his skills successfully will get work and even have a niche that others don’t serve.
Interculturalism is an opportunity for translators and interpreters to go beyond our traditional framework. Gaining intercultural competence is something that I strive for every day; I hope that each year and every new encounter will get me there. In the meantime, I enjoy the ride.
Resources
Books on interculturalism:
- Hall, Edward T. (1959) The Silent Language Greenwich, CT: Fawcett.
- Jandt, Fred E. (1998) Intercultural Communication: An Introduction (Second Ed.) Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications.
- Katan, David (1999) Translating Cultures, An Introduction for Translators, Interpreters and Mediators. Manchester, England; St Jerome Publishing.
Many books, monographs, and other resources may be obtained through:
The author gratefully acknowledges the work of Dr. Fred E. Jandt and Professor David Katan as source and inspiration for parts of this article.
