Things that come along in threes

Categories: books, translation

Date: 29 November 2008 01:30:30

It's a curious thing that sometimes things really do come along in threes.  There is the standing joke that buses come along in threes, I tend to sneeze in threes and now.... I've recently read three murder mysteries all set in Cambridge. (I can't quite work out why I have focused on this genre as generally I am not really a fan of murder mysteries. It has taken me a lifetime to work out the reason for this. I think it's got something to do with being presented with the body by the end of chapter two and then having to spend the next 200 pages working out whodunnit. I think I must like logical progression, or something - she says, painfully aware that she's managed to sidetrack herself already!) If you'll bear with me a bit longer, you'll find out what all this has vaguely got to do with translation.

Book no. one was "Engleby" by Sebastian Faulks.  It felt to me to drag on with the narrator's undergrad waffling about this and that and I kept thinking - for heaven's sake - stop wittering and get on with the story. Just shows why I didn't go to Cambridge - this was all part of the story and it had a very clever twist that I didn't see coming.  Would I recommend it? If you like murder mysteries, then certainly, give it a try. It has a different slant as it not written from the detectives' point of view...and now that you know that the main character is not just wordling away, you may not become as impatient as I did.

Next up was "Case Histories" by Kate Atkinson.  Lots of bodies introduced in the first few chapters - all of course with their family histories and family members. Lots of people to bear in mind as the plots (narrated from the private detective's point of view) interweave through his life. Good read but not if you're feeling sleepy as you'll probably get a couple of the characters mixed up.

Finally, "For the sake of Elena" by Elizabeth George - also set in Cambridge - makes you wonder if there's anyone left there.  Elena is the murder victim and it turns out that she is deaf so that throws a few more considerations into the mix.  I managed to finish this book but it was not really with any pleasure or even satisfaction at having accomplished the task before me.  I started to get very irritated with it because there were details which just did not ring true. I barely know Cambridge or the college system there but I was left wondering who Ms George's editor was. And, if you're still reading, the main point of my post is coming up.  It is common knowledge that if you are writing about something which is not in your direct experience you should research it - and research it meticulously.  I guessed that Elizabeth George was an American writer (I was correct) and so therefore her main audience, one assumes, is American. They can be forgiven for not knowing the detailed ins and outs of life in Britain - it's not their job to know - but it is the author's to tell them.  In a way, she is translating British life across the Pond to open up a new world to her audience and it is her responsibility - or that of her editor - to make sure the details are right.  I will draw two examples to your attention:

One character was called Lady Helen. She was involved in a romantic relationship with the detective. Not hugely likely but we'll move on and suspend disbelief at this stage.  She has a married sister with post-natal depression called Pen (I assume short for Penelope). Pen is always called Pen. Lady Helen's title is used with nauseating regularity.  I concede that the rules surrounding titles are many and complicated but I think it is true to say that if these two are sisters, and Helen is not married to a man with an appropriate title, they should both be known as Lady [Christian name]. The rules change if you're married to a Lord - then you become Lady [Surname]. (This is not an exhaustive look at the various permutations available!)  So why was the poor, down-trodden Pen never accorded her rightful title? I suppose post-natal depression isn't considered glamorous enough...nappies and tiaras just don't seem to mix.  The other thing that irritated me was that the JCR which is short for Junior Common Room was referred to as something like Junior Community Room (I can't remember exactly - the book has already gone to the charity shop).

The problem is that once you have been hit with a sledgehammer over the head with this sort of error a few times, you begin to wonder how many other errors there are - and will the plot begin to unravel because of them?

Having sounded off, I now realise that I was reading an American edition and therefore it wasn't meant specifically for the British market - but is that an excuse for shoddy editing?

The same principles apply to translation. If the wrong words are chosen, the reader "trips" on them and they jolt him out of the text and remind him (or point out to him) that he is reading a translation. It's not an easy task to always pick exactly the right word - and I'm sure I'm guilty on a daily basis of not doing so - but one is constantly reminded that a translation should read like an original piece of writing; authentic and fluent. Which is why in this country, at least, the professional code of conduct requires you to translate into your mother tongue.

Mark Twain once famously said that Britain and America were two nations divided by one language - and although I don't think that holds true all the time, it certainly did in the case of this novel.