Otata and Omama

Miljenko Jergovic uses the words “otata” and “omama,” which it took me a little bit of research to figure out are actual regionalisms for “Great-grandpa” and “Great-grandma.” They are used especially by Croats of German background, I assume as a kind of pidm_92787gin that takes the “o” of the German “Opa” (grandpa) and “Oma” (grandma) and combines it with the “tata” (father) and “mama” of Croatian.

I am still thinking about how to deal with this in translating from a text that uses these terms a lot—the male character (otata Karlo), who rather sets the tone for the family, is a Swabian from the Banat; his wife is half-Italian and half-German or Slovene (whether German or Slovene is something of a mystery). One option would be to leave them as otata and omama and assume, over the course of the thousand pages of the book, that readers will at least get used to them, if not learn to derive some of the same warmth of family feeling with which they are used in the book.

At the other end of the spectrum would be translating them as Great-grandpa and Great-grandma, which, while a little long, are not at all unwieldy in English. In my sample for the publisher, I used Great-grandpa—hadn’t got to the Great-grandma yet—and it worked fine, even if it loses some of the local color. It does get a bit long, however, when the first names of the characters are added. “Great-grandpa Karlo” and “Great-grandma Johanna,” repeated many times, start to “cut my ear,” as the Russians say.

Another option, would be to use the German Opa and Oma, especially since the author uses “nona” and “djed” for the grandparents—”nona” I plan to keep as Nona in English, while “djed” will likely be Grandpa—and so using the German words would not be confusing to readers as they would be the only characters referred to in that way, and using in effect three languages for the names of all these characters would suggest something of the linguistic range of the family. A disadvantage is that Opa and Oma are in themselves pure German and miss the mixture in the Bosno-Croatian version.

Another option would be to come up with something in English that is somehow like these other terms but more immediately accessible to an English reading audience, something like Opapa and Omama. Basically, Omama would be the same as in the source, and Opapa would be a root-based translation (tata becoming papa) combined with use of the German-derived “o,” which will be familiar to some English readers by association with Opa and Oma. Opapa and Omama would also match the rhythm of the source, and as I read them back the ring in my ear is rather nice.

These discrete entries are going to be a lot of help to me as I make my way through this monster of a book. In the meantime, I would love to receive any suggestions anyone might have.

An Unfortunate Episode in the Rhetoric of Re-translation

Or, to be clear, it would be that thing in my title, if the book had been re-translated, but this is not really a re-translation, so mostly this is about editing. Unfortunately, the editor in this case, Mark Thompson, has chosen to position his work along the lines that are often reserved for the rhetoric of re-translation and certain forms of marketing of translations that appeal primarily to accuracy and authenticity. (I will refrain from putting these words in quotes but please imagine them there; this is about rhetoric and the ways we present claims about translation, translated texts, translators, and so on.)51LJpC-v39L

The claims typically suggest that the previous translation was seriously flawed and, as a result, created a wrong impression of the work in question, such that its reception was somehow skewed if not missed altogether. Then they imply that the current translation rights the wrongs of the earlier work, giving readers proper access to the original in a way that they were somehow denied it before. This is exactly the rhetoric Thompson uses to critique Heim’s work (in the second half of his talk).

I was curious to know what precise translation experience Thompson was basing the larger claims in his critique upon, but unfortunately I could not find any book translations by him, only a portion of Dubravka Ugresic’s Baba Yaga Laid an Egg, published in 2011. Of course there are very good editors of translations who have not translated entire books themselves, though I have not been able to find any other translations edited by Thompson either. Still, he has written an excellent biography of Danilo Kiš, the author of the book in question, so there’s no reason not to pay careful attention to his critique of a translation of that author’s work by someone else.

It does give one pause, however, when someone with little professional experience in the domain itself makes categorical statements about how translators “ought” to keep the exact tenses of the foreign language text in their English versions, or how they “should” repeat words whenever the author does. Actually, these are both rather naive over generalizations that most experienced translators and experienced editors of translation know to be so. They are as dependent upon context as any choices a translator might make, and it is simply not the case that all language cultures have the same levels of tolerance for repetition and tense variation, or that the verbal systems of different languages work the same way. Nor does back-translating in the manner he discusses clarify the process of creating the English version, e.g., finding another word in the source language that might have been used but wasn’t in order to make the claim that if the author had wanted to use that word, she or he could have, and therefore, the word used in the previous English version was the wrong one.

Listening to Thompson’s categorical assertions—which I sincerely hope are not written down in the introduction to this new edition—actually made me as irritated and angry as he claims to have felt about Heim and his translation (why he should be precisely “irritated” with Heim was not completely clear). Editing another person’s work is not the same as translating from scratch. This is important enough to write again. The very slight nod to the translator of the whole text, the one whose work he used as the basis of his revisions, came very late in Thompson’s comments and seemed rather grudging and almost an afterthought, especially by contrast to the litany of “deep flaws” he shares.

I have edited quite a few other people’s translations. It is possible to do so when you don’t have an expert grasp of the language of the source text. It is even possible to fine tune the translation in the process. But in such cases, the editor’s name does not go on the cover, at least not unless it is a scholarly edition of some sort and the editor in question has created a scholarly apparatus to accompany the text. Actually, the editor’s name is not generally mentioned anywhere in literary works, whether they are translated or not. This is the work of an editor. Moreover, even when I know what questions to ask where and which verbs or lines or articles might have diverged from a Spanish or German or Japanese (minus the articles) source, I know that translating the whole would be beyond me given my skills in these languages. This is because editing another person’s work is not the same as translating from scratch. It makes the collegial nature of editing all the more important.

The rhetoric of re-translation often formulates attempts to move its audience by means of a critique of a previous translation: it is “old,” “outdated,” “inaccurate,” and so on. These claims are familiar as attempts to justify the need for the new version. This is what is happening with Thompson’s discussion of his edited version of Heim’s translation as well, and some of his changes might in fact be improvements on the English version. I just wish it had been more graciously done. The very title of his talk is rather offensive, as if Heim was not concerned with doing justice to the authors’ whose work he translated and the works themselves. When Heim was called upon to revise other people’s translations, something that happened often, he did it without putting his name to it. Nor did he spell out all the things he disagreed with in the other person’s work publicly. This grace and discretion were marks of his work both as an editor and as a translator.