Webinar April 8th: Translating in Rhythm with Susan Bernofsky

Susan Bernofsky is my favorite German to English translator of literature. Mind you, I can't name a lot of them if asked. But my usual experience of reading literature translated from German to English is to rush to the original German text out of disgust at a result I could easily better. With Susan, the translation honors the original work and amplifies its best qualities. Her Metamorphosis is more readable, yet more Kafkaesque than Franz's laudable effort. Several years ago, I reviewed her terrifying translation of Gotthelf's Black Spider, which I enjoyed far more than the Swiss German original. Hers is a name worth knowing and remembering, and her work is a standard of excellence.

So when I heard some weeks ago that Ms. Bernofsky would be holding a talk about her education and experiences with her mentor, William Gass, I walked around for some hours with a very big smile on my face. The burdens of workload being what they were at the time, however, I completely forgot to register until this morning.

The registration page is here. If you are interested in literary translation and the philosophy behind it, why not join us for what promises to be a very interesting hour?

My favorite library: Project Gutenberg

I've been fond of Project Gutenberg since I first became aware of it long, long ago. However, since acquiring an e-book reader I have become especially appreciative of this resource. Time and again it has had exactly what I'm looking for in classic literature, and the portable library I've built with it has been a fine companion in my travels and on long nights when I need good words to send me to sleep.

The recent discovery of Andrew Lang's fairy books has been quite an interesting thing, and when my Portuguese teacher recently recommended José Maria Eça de Queirós as a good author to familiarize myself with dialog, I was delighted to find many of his works available there in the original language.

Why not have a browse yourself if you haven't been to the site for a while, and if you get much out of it as I do, consider making a donation to support this good work.

A tale for Halloween, perfectly horrifying!

The night of terror began with a puzzling tweet in the afternoon:

 

I clicked the link and read the latest on Susan Bernofsky's Translationista blog,which gave an update on some of her recent work. An upcoming release of her translation of Kafka's The Metamorphosis was mentioned; that caught my eye since I had reread it in German very recently, and I find the variations in its translation quite interesting. I made a note to look at her version when it comes out in January.

Her blog post also mentioned the release last week of her translation of Die schwarze Spinne by a 19th century Swiss pastor writing under the name of Jeremias Gotthelf. The Black Spider? I grew up in a basement  bedroom well-stocked with black widow spiders, so the title had a certain creepy, nostalgic fascination for me. I was unaware of the high regard this novella was held in by so many, but the description of the tale on the blog and in the Wikipedia articles I read intrigued me, so I checked in at Amazon.de and bought a Kindle copy of the new translation. For good measure, I grabbed a copy of the original tale in German and treated myself to an atmospheric introduction of the story with the LibriVox audio recording by what sounds like an old guy with a Swiss German accent, like the grandfather who relates this moralistic tale of mortal terror.

The German audio recording was a bit fatiguing, gave me a claustrophobic feeling with its heavy diet of adjectives and too-familiar village custom. I began to feel a flashback the the Brandenburg hellhole I escaped from earlier this year and the suffocating customs of its denizens. With some desperation, I abandoned my plan to finish the entire work in German before starting Bernofsky's translation, so with a little twitch of guilt, I grabbed my bag and headed off to the cantinho for dinner in a quiet corner with my Kindle. Her translation started off with very much of a period feel, over-rich with its double serving of adjectives and long sentences that reminded me of my first encounters with John Stuart Mill in the tenth grade. I began to get the same claustrophobic feeling I had from the German reading, yes, I was back in Oberkrämer in Brandenburg and that's enough horror for one evening, thank you.

But gradually without realizing the art with which her well-crafted English drew me into the Swiss Calvinist spirit of the tale I was caught in a well-paced story that kept my interest and made me wonder if I would enjoy the original as much in some parts. And so I was drawn, unwitting, into the open jaws of Evil, which closed slowly about my torso and squeezed the breath out of me, leaving me gasping more than once and failing to notice that the liter of sangria had gone too fast before I ordered more to quench the burning horror unfolding. The walk home was too long, and the way could not be lit well enough.

At home I paused for a while, centered my mind by translating a deadly dull document with terms and conditions for purchase, went on a safer bug hunt in the latest beta version of memoQ and then, feeling that the house was much too dark, I screwed up my courage and lay down to sleep... well no, to read just a bit more, because those jaws were still closed around me, and the several dull pains about my sternum and spine made me wonder if my heart and bones would last to the end of the tale. Don't be so dramatic I thought, and I wasn't, really, the real drama was before my eyes, transfixing me in terror as wished the dogs would lie heavier on my legs and chest and distract me from the dark corners of the room I could not see because my eyes were on the shadows in the book and what waited so terribly in them.

This is a damned good translation. Maybe. Let me put it this way: I hope the original tale can live up to what I read tonight. But I'm not going to make the mistake of finding that out in the dark again.

Portuguese children's book reading in Berlin with Tânia Maria Rodrigues-Peters

Berlin is a wonderfully international city, offering a delicious cultural buffet in many languages. On December 11, 2010 at 4 pm at A Livraria bookstore (Torstrasse 159, 10115 Berlin) the feast will include a reading in Portuguese by Brazilian children's author Tânia Maria Rodrigues-Peters, whose works are available in English, German, Spanish and Portuguese.

Ms. Rodrigues-Peters is married to Carsten Peters, who recently launched the publishing venture Ceditora announced on this blog.

Ceditora: a new literary publishing service for authors, editors and translators

Today Carsten Peters and partner Thomas Brandon announced the formation of Ceditora, a unique publishing service based in South San Francisco, California and Koblach, Austria. Earlier this year I was talking to Carsten about technical aspects of the sophisticated memoQ Server system and workflow he has introduced and supported at an industrial company, and we started chatting about a subject we both love: children's literature. He mentioned plans for a different kind of publishing company, and I was both intrigued and excited by what I heard, because I know some wonderful illustrated work by an acquaintance hidden away in drawers for decades that would fit his model well.

So this morning when I received the official announcement, I couldn't help but grin. I wish them the best of success. I'll quote from the press release here:

Ceditora is a publisher with a unique focus on collaboration in the areas of literary translation, editing, and global marketing.

Authors, editors and translators can register at the Ceditora website free. Ceditora will only accept registration from editors and translators with relevant degrees and significant experience. Published or unpublished authors may register with Ceditora.

Ceditora maintains a searchable repository of available editors, translators, and author manuscripts as well as previously published books available for translation. Authors sumbit their manuscripts or books, editors and translators post their resumes, interests, and samples of their work. Tools to search, create a team, collaborate and present a book proposal are available to those who register with Ceditora. Every book project selected for publication by Ceditora’s management will be published in at least four languages, and marketed worldwide.

Ceditora presents an opportunity for editors and translators to examine multiple projects before deciding which author’s work is the best fit for them. In addition Ceditora offers professionals the opportunity to work with peers from all over the world. Generous commissions per book sold are paid to authors, editors and translators. This is matched with individual service and world class collaboration.

Ceditora is committed to literary excellence and will publish only books that reflect this ideology.

In the launch phase Ceditora is working with a select group of professionals by invitation only. Ceditora will be open to everyone in 2011.

The first step is to visit our website: http://www.ceditora.com

Listen to your lady

One of my personal projects which I enjoy greatly is translating choice passages from Diana, Hubertus und Ich by the once-famous equestrian and author of sports literature, Oscar Caminneci. I know some of his surviving family through breeders' circles for wire-haired vizslas, and Oscar's nephew Manfred and his wife Ingeborg have an excellent kennel in Germany, Haus Schladern.

The author had the misfortune to be caught up in the intrigues of the Third Reich when Ulrich Scherping, the regime's Oberstjägermeister, conspired to confiscate his hunting lands. Oscar was subsequently murdered in a concentration camp.

This light-hearted tale from his book of adventures demonstrates a lesson that all men must eventually learn if they are to succeed in life. Here is the German original, published in 1935, and my free adaptation in English, published with the permission of the Caminneci family.

A Lovers' Hunt

by Oscar Caminneci

in Five Acts

translated and adapted by Kevin Lossner

***

Place and circumstances of the play:

Forested lands, a raised blind, a December evening and moonlight

Dramatis personae:

Mr. & Mrs. Caminneci, newly wed. It is the wife's first time in a raised blind.

Purpose of the evening's activity:

Waiting and watching, a boar hunt

***

Act One

He: Now you must sit still as a mouse, and in the event that something comes, you must not move nor say a thing, otherwise there's no point. I'll pay close attention and let you know if necessary.

She: Don't worry, I'll sit quietly.

The moon rises. It is peaceful, a time for meditation.

***

Act Two

She (barely audible): I believe something's coming.

He (somewhat more audibly): Be quiet!

Pause

***

Act Three

She (quietly): Oscar, there's a boar standing there.

He (somewhat louder): My God, will you shut up?!

Pause

***

Act Four

She (still quiet, but urgently): There it is. Very close. And it's scratching itself.

He (still quiet, but... ): Why won't you shut up at last?! If you can't clamp your beak then nothing will come for sure and we might as well go home now!

***

Act Five

Silence in the forest. It gets colder. It is late.

She (with resignation): Now it's gone.

He (loudly): Where? What? I didn't see a thing!

She (puzzled): But the boar was standing right there! Right in front of us! Why didn't you shoot?

He (somewhat sheepishly): Don't be silly. You just saw a ghost!

Her "ghost" left deep tracks in the virgin snow. A fir branch had blocked Oscar's view....