Classics Packaging

Juva, Kersti

M.A. literary translator

SKTL

kersti@turanko.net

A classic is a classic because it has stood the test of time. It can have a special place in the history of literature but more importantly, it is still appreciated by readers in its own culture.. Translation happens in time and place. Who commissions it and when affects it more than is often realised. For example, when a translator like me translates a classic like Nicholas Nickleby into Finnish, she does not apply some universal strategies. Not surprisingly, my attitudes follow to a great extent the conventions of contemporary Finnish publishing houses and theatres and these in turn are influenced by the expectations of the Finnish reading public and theatre goers.

What I describe here is a particular approach to translating classics which I have followed when I have found a classic on my desk. I take my examples from four literary works from four different centuries. The first one, the translation William Shakespeare’s Merry Wives of Windsor is a work in progress and not yet published. The play was probably written to be performed in April 1597 and so falls only just within the 16^th century. The second, a Restauration Comedy, Aphra Behn’s The Rover, was written 1677 and performed in my translation at Finnish National Theathe 1995. (For those who do not know, Aphra Behn was the first English professional female author.) The first volume.Laurence Sterne’s Tristram Shandy was published 1759, and my Finnish translation of all nine wolumes 1998. Nicholas Nickleby by Charles Dickens was published as a serial from 1838 to 1839 and in my translation 1992.

To be asked to translate a classic is an awesome task, the expectation is no less than to write this particular masterpiece on one’s own language. To make the task less daunting, I think the translator must have the confidence to see him/herself as equal to the writer, to be the writer’s colleague and friend in bringing the tranlation about. Too much admiration is likely to stifle the translator’s creative talent. One’s other loyalty, a translator’s loyalty towards his/her reader, can be used to balance this. They deserve a good read, not some pedantic string of minutiae. I would alsio lie to stress that the Finnish product is a different entity, it will have its own life in Finland, and many things that are relevant for the English reader will mean nothing to a Finn and vice versa.

My first principle has been to try and create an effect similar to the one the author intended for his/hers original audience. Bridging the distance between the writer and the reader like this means that I will inevitably play down rather than emphasize the distances in time and culture. I feel that there is enough foreigness and distance left without my trying to especially strive for it. An added reason for using modern language is that Finnish as a literary language is rather young, the first Finnish novels and plays were written by Aleksis Kivi in the 1870’s (Interestingly, he had been greatly influenced by Swedish translations of Shakespeare and Dickens).

When translating old texts, I try to use a variety of Finnish which feels timeless, and particularly I want to avoid expressions which have a contremporary feel. As a rule of thumb I label contemporary those expressions which have emerged during the lifetime of my eldest readers, which means that anything older than early 20^th century I use happily. My aim is to create illusions – is this not something that all art does? – not to recreate some old form of language.

I do not apply this principle consitently, in fact I seldom apply any principles consistently in my work, to avoid rigid solutions. Sometimes, when opportunity arises, I spice the translation with old Finnish expressions. The stimulus for this normally comes from the target language, not from the source. So, when Dickens writes in the first chapter of Nicholas Nicleby “may be taken from me tomorrow” I translate “saatetaan viedä minulta huomispäivänä”, in which the word “huomispäivänä” is not entirely modern.

All these four classics intend to make the reader laugh. Humour is a very elusive element in literature, and easily lost, it can hide anywhere, sometimes it is in the atmosphere, sometimes the timing of a punch line is all-important. As always, the most difficult task is to detect the humour in the source text: if a translator misses a joke there is no hope of it appearing in the translation.

It has been my aim to produce texts that are just as funny, ditching literal accuracy when necessary. This is particularly so with puns, a tricky special case in translation. Particularly Shakespeare and Sterne use puns frequently for comic effect. When Bardolph says in the first act of Mery Wives that a man has “drunk himself out of his five sentences”, the word he is looking for is senses. To create a similar effect I translate “ryypännyt pellolle viisi vaistoaan” where the word “vaisto”, meaning ‘instinct’ substitutes “aisti”, ‘sense’. When translating humour one must be particularly sensitive and open to lateral thinking, rational thought and dictionaries seldom offer any help.

Dickens has a particular ironic angle in much of his writing, and conveying this elusive aspect can prove a challenge. Mainly I have tried to use word order and rhythm to recreate this particular voice:

'Such things happen every day,' remarked the lawyer.

'And it is very sinful to rebel against them,' whispered the clergyman.

'And what no man with a family ought to do,' added the neighbours.

"Näitä sattuu harva se päivä", huomautti tuomari.

"Ja on suuri synti kapinoida niitä vastaan", kuiskasi pappi.

"Eikä sovi perheelliselle miehelle", lisäsivät naapurit.

(Nicholas Nickleby, first chapter)

Old texts present great problems of comprehension for the translator. A literary translator might not aim at an academic translation, but academic footnotes to the original test and monolingual dictionaries are invaluable in his/her work. Shakespeare writes in the first act of The Merry Wives: “Be advised, sir, and pass good humours: I will say 'marry trap' with you, if you run the nuthook's humour on me; that is the very note of it.” Even a modern English reader is completely baffled. Good old Oxford English Dictionary saves the translators day, not only are these expressions listed, but the very sentences are used as examples and I can confidently translate “Kuulkaapa, hyvä herra, malttia. Hoitakaa omat asianne, turha leikkiä lainvartijaa minun kanssani, se tyyli ei vetele.” Sometimes I have made things more explicit in my translation, when I have felt that the modern reader needs help and this help can be easily embedded in the text. Thus, for example, Tully in Tristram Shandy have been substituted with Cicero. An interesting result of this strategy is that the translation will be more accessible for a modern Finnish reader than it is for a modern English reader.

Both Shakespeare and Aphra Behn use verse in their plays. One could argue that as modern plays are written in prose, there is no need to reproduce this element in the translation. I and my publishers have nevertheless agreed that a certain level of regular meter empowers the text and retains a dimension which feels very much part of the play. Unfortunately iambic pentameter which suits the English language so beautifully, is rather alien in Finnish where every word starts with a stressed syllable. Despite of this, because of European influences, there is a century old tradition of iambic verse in Finnish from which the translator can draw. I include an example of my efforts from the first act of Merry Wives:

Ha, thou mountain-foreigner! Sir John and Master mine,

I combat challenge of this latten bilbo.

Word of denial in thy labras here!

Word of denial: froth and scum, thou liest!

Mokoma metsäläinen! Isäntäni,

sir John, nyt haastan tinamiekan tuon!

Puheesi peru, huulet heilumaan!

Puheesi peru, sakka! Valhetta

With the use of three syllable words it is possible to create a iambic effect. Note also ‘mountain-foreigner’ for Welshman which I have translated as “metsäläinen” ‘wood dweller’, a Finnish derogatory name for wild uncivilised people.

Long paragraphs in Tristram Shandy parody pompous convoluted writing of the time. Keeping sentences long and making sure every twist and turn is included I have tried to be faithful to Sterne’s intentions. At the same time I take pity of the reader: whenever the thought in the original is clear I have done my utmost to make it clear in Finnish too, thus avoiding unnecessary headaches. A couple of paragraphs will serve as an example.

“My father had a favourite little mare, which he had consigned over to a most beautiful Arabian horse, in order to have a pad out of her for his own riding: he was sanguine in all his projects; so talked about his pad every day with as absolute a security, as if it had been reared, broke,--and bridled and saddled at his door ready for mounting. By some neglect or other in Obadiah, it so fell out, that my father's expectations were answered with nothing better than a mule, and as ugly a beast of the kind as ever was produced.

My mother and my uncle Toby expected my father would be the death of Obadiah--and that there never would be an end of the disaster--See here! you rascal, cried my father, pointing to the mule, what you have done!--It was not me, said Obadiah.--How do I know that? replied my father.

Triumph swam in my father's eyes, at the repartee--the Attic salt brought water into them--and so Obadiah heard no more about it.”

“Isälläni oli pieni tamma, lemmikkihevonen, jonka hän oli varannut kauniille arabiorille saadakseen itselleen tamman varsasta ratsun; ja koska hänellä oli suuri luottamus kaikkiin hankkeisiinsa, hän puhui ratsustaan joka päivä varmana asiana, ikään kuin se olisi jo kasvatettu, koulutettu --- ja seisoisi ohjastettuna ja satuloituna ulko-oven edessä odottamassa häntä selkäänsä. Ties mitä Obadiah oli tehnyt tai jättänyt tekemättä, mutta kävi niin, että isäni odotusten täyttymys oli pelkkä muuli ja sekin niin ruma kuin vain muuli voi olla.

Äitini ja Toby-setäni odottivat, että isäni vähintäänkin tappaisi Obadiahin --- että onnettomuudesta kärsittäisiin pitkään. --- Sinä senkin! huusi isäni ja osoitti muulia, mitä sinä olet mennyt tekemään! --- En se minä ollut, sanoi Obadiah. --- Mistä minä sen voin tietää? vastasi isäni.

Isäni silmistä loisti voitonriemu, kun hän päästi letkauksen suustaan --- Attikan pureva suola toi niihin vedet --- eikä Obadiah enää koskaan kuullut asiasta.”

(Tristram Shandy, V, 3)

I hope to have produced sentences that twist and turn enough when needed and hit like a hammer at the punch lines. “Note that Attic salt” is not explained, I have left the joy of understanding the allusion to those who do.

At the end of the day translating old classics is not fundamentally different from translating any literary texts. My loyalty to the writer means that I cannot write something that he has not written unless I do it to be more faithful to his aims. There is always a contradiction in saying this, as strictly speaking nothing I write is the same as he or she wrote because the language is not the same. Finnish has a single verb for ‘translating into Finnish’ ”to finnisize”. The greatest domestication already takes place by definition: through the use of another language. After thirty years I still find it impossible to define in what way the translation is faithful to the original. In spirit, perhaps?

My loyalty to the reader demands that I produce something that he/she can read and understand without unnecessary effort. This means that I use idiomatic, clear Finnish unless I have reason to be unidiomatic and unclear on purpose.

Translation literature is always hard work. Translating old classics is just more so. Hard work is not all, though. Translating a good text is always an inspiration and when one has a classic at hand, the quality of the text is guaranteed and thus always a great pleasure to work on.