Chapter 1
Unity in diversity
The world of the translator is inhabited by an extraordinary number of dichotomies, reflecting divisions which either exist or are supposed to exist between mutually exclusive opposites. Some of these are professional, corresponding to the traditional areas of activity of translators (the technical translator, the literary translator, the legal, the religious and so on). Others distinguish between different modes of translating: written, oral (such as simultaneous interpreting) and written-from-oral (such as screen subtitling), which again correspond to different professional orientations. A further set of dichotomies pertains to an age-old debate concerning the translatorâs priorities: âliteralâ versus âfreeâ, âformâ versus âcontentâ, âformalâ versus âdynamic equivalenceâ, âsemanticâ versus âcommunicative translatingâ andâin more recent timesâtranslator âvisibilityâ versus âinvisibilityâ.
This proliferation of terms and categories reflects the diversity of the translation world. Between the experience of the Bible translator, working in remote locations and with wholly unrelated languages, and that of the staff translator producing parallel copy of in-house documents in closely related languages, there is indeed a world of difference. Many of the concerns of the court interpreter are not shared, for example, by the translator of classical poetry. Indeed, their paths hardly ever cross. Yet there is a core of common concern which sometimes escapes unnoticed. It is striking that, beyond the widely diverging constraints which operate in different fields and modes of translating, so many of the intractable problems are shared. In this book, we propose to investigate areas of mutual interest and to uncover the striking uniformity which emerges when translating is looked upon as an act of communication which attempts to relay, across cultural and linguistic boundaries, another act of communication (which may have been intended for different purposes and different readers/hearers). The common thread here is communication and, as the title of this book implies, our investigation is of communication strategies in the sense of the underlying principles behind the production and reception of textsâall texts, written and spoken, source and target, technical and non-technical, etc. The translator is, of course, both a receiver and a producer. We would like to regard him or her as a special category of communicator, one whose act of communication is conditioned by another, previous act and whose reception of that previous act is intensive. It is intensive because, unlike other text receivers, who may choose to pay more or less attention to their listening or reading, translators interact closely with their source text, whether for immediate response (as in the case of the simultaneous interpreter) or in a more reflective way (as in the translation of creative literature).
There are, as always, some apparent exceptions to the general rule. It may, for instance, be argued that poetry is essentially an act of self-expression and not one of communication. Therefore, an account of communication would be irrelevant to the work of the translator of poetry. But a poem which is to be translated has first to be read and the act of reading is, we submit, part of what we understand as communication. There may be all kinds of constraints which make the translation of poetry a special case, with its own concerns and problems, but the fact remains that there are a text producer and a text receiver, standing in some kind of relationship to each other. It is the nature of this relationship in general which interests us. The peculiarities of special cases, however constraining they may be, can only be truly appreciated once the underlying nature of the transaction is made clear.
The model of communication underlying all of our analyses will be the subject of Chapter 2. In this first chapter, we want to illustrate (from text samples in English, French and Spanish) some of the common concerns in all fields and modes of translating, to highlight what unites, rather than what divides them. In doing so, we hope to show the need for the (necessarily somewhat technical) description of text processing contained in the next chapter and how it will further our understanding of all kinds of acts of translating.
FIELDS OF TRANSLATING
Newmark (1981:5â6) charts some of the false distinctions which have been made between literary and technical translation. At best these distinctions have been gross over-generalizations, such as the notion that the technical translator is concerned with content, the literary translator with form. But more often than not, they are simply misleading. Above all, they mask the essential similarities which may be perceived in texts of different fields, especially when communication is seen as more than a matter of exchanging words as tokens with fixed meanings. In discourse analysis, many works now subject literary and nonliterary discourse to the same analysis and show similar linguistic processes at work. Fowler (e.g. 1986) illustrates many of the ways in which literary as well as non-literary texts create their effects. For the translator, one such shared concern may be the rhetorical structuring of a text and the use of logical connectors to enable readers to retrieve intended meanings. Text Sample 1.1 serves as a useful illustration of the point.
Sample 1.1
In the bar of the Hotel Cracovia, in fact, Oskar had already seen Gebauer hand over forged papers to a Jewish businessman for a flight to Hungary. Maybe Gebauer was taking a fee, though he seemed too morally sensitive to deal in papers, to sell a signature, a rubber stamp. But it was certain, in spite of his act in front of Toffel, that he was no abominator of the tribe. Nor were any of them. (âŠ)
In this short fragment from Thomas Keneallyâs Schindlerâs Arkâ described by the author as using the âtexture and devices of a novel to tell a true storyâ (Keneally 1982:9)âcoherence (the underlying continuity of sense of any stretch of language) can only be established by relating the sequence to its wider context, both linguistic and extra-linguistic. At this point in the narrative, Gebauer, a lieutenant in the German army, has been making pronouncements to his drinking companions, Schindler, Toffel and others, which would lead one to believe him to be wholly in favour of the SS policy towards the Jews in pre-war Germany. But Oskar Schindler, in fact, believes otherwise. In the fragment of interior monologue contained in Sample 1.1, he first entertains the notion that Gebauerâs helpful gesture to a Jewish businessman may have been purely mercenary. Then he dismisses this notion and asserts his belief that Gebauer is âno abominator of the tribeâ. This rhetorical structureâputting one side of an argument and then dismissing it by stating more assertively the opposing point of viewâis negotiated in Sample 1.1 through a series of connectors and modal adverbs: in fact, maybe, though, but, nor. If we now compare this fragment with its Spanish translation (Sample 1.2), we find a subtly different rhetorical structure: la verdad era que, quizĂĄ, aunque, y, y tampoco (âthe truth was thatâ, âperhapsâ, âalthoughâ, âandâ, âand neitherâ).
Sample 1.2
La verdad era que Oskar habĂa visto a Gebauer mientras entregaba a un hombre de negocios judĂo, en el hotel Cracovia, documentos falsos para que pudiese huir a HungrĂa. QuizĂĄ Gebauer habĂa recibido dinero a cambio, aunque parecĂa un hombre demasiado Ăntegro para vender papeles, firmas, sellos. Y estaba seguro, a pesar del papel que habĂa representado ante Toffel, de que no odiaba a los judĂos. Y tampoco los demĂĄs. (âŠ)
[The truth was that Oskar had seen Gebauer while he was delivering to a Jewish businessman, in the Hotel Cracovia, false papers so that he might flee to Hungary. Perhaps Gebauer had received money in exchange, although he seemed too honest a man to sell papers, signatures, stamps. And it was certain, in spite of the role which he had played in front of Toffel, that he did not hate the Jews. And neither [did] the others.]1
There are many interesting points in this translation, such as the stylistic âflatteningâ of abominator of the tribe to hate the Jews, the kind of feature which can be described in the terms of register membership (see Chapter 2) and which we shall also describe as discoursal (that is, having to do with expression of attitude). But our main interest here is the structure of the argument concerning Gebauer. Sample 1.2 has âAnd it was certainâ whereas the source text reads But it was certain. Technically, what this translation does is to turn the belief that Gebauer did not hate the Jews into an addition to the caveat about his moral sensitivity: âPerhaps⊠although he seemedâŠand it was certainâŠâ This leaves room for doubt: perhaps he was pro-SS, perhaps not. The matter is left unresolved. The source text (1.1), on the other hand, strongly signals that Schindler does not believe Gebauer is pro-SS, even though he may have taken money in exchange for providing false papers. This is done by first suggesting a mercenary motive, which is immediately shown to be a weak hypothesis (thoughâŠ), and then strongly asserting an opposing view. The difference between source and target text is subtle and depends upon interpretation of the function in this fragment of the connectors But (Sample 1.1) and (âandââ Sample 1.2). Nevertheless, it provides some access into the signalling of intentions and attitude by writer to readerâhere, in the field of literary translation.
Such processes are at work in technical translation too. BĂ©dard (1986:1) explodes the myth of technical translation being a matter of one-for-one exchange of technically precise vocabulary tokens and portrays it above all as âun acte dâintelligence et de communicationâ. Devoting a chapter to what he calls the demands of communication, he adduces an example which we reproduce here as Samples 1.3â5. Of these, Samples 1.3 is the source text and 1.4 and 1.5 are variant translations.
Sample 1.3
The cost of operating an air conditioner is relatively low. However, there are many factors that contribute to cost of operation. Most important is proper capacity. Too small a capacity for the application would prove just as expensive as too large a capacity. Proper insulation and location of windows are other cost factors.
Sample 1.4
Le coĂ»t dâutilisation dâun climatiseur est assez modique, mais depend bien sĂ»r de divers facteurs, comme lâemplacement des fenĂȘtres et le degrĂ© dâisolement. II importe aussi de choisir une capacitĂ© appropriĂ©e Ă (âutilisation envisagĂ©e: un appareil trop petit se rĂ©vĂ©lera aussi dispendieux Ă lâusage quâun appareil trop puissant.
[The operating cost of an air conditioner is fairly modest but depends of course on several factors, such as the location of the windows and the degree of insulation. It is also important to choose a capacity appropriate to the expected use: too small a unit will prove as expensive in use as too powerful a unit]
Sample 1.5
Le coĂ»t dâutilisation dâun climatiseur est normalement assez faible. Par contre, il peut sâĂ©lever dans certaines conditions: par exemple si les fenĂȘtres sont situĂ©es en plein soleil, si lâisolement est mauvais ou si lâappareil choisi est trop faible ou trop puissant pour les besoins.
[The operating cost of an air conditioner is usually fairly low. Nevertheless, it may rise in certain conditions: for example if the windows are situated in full sun, if the insulation is poor or if the unit selected is too weak or too powerful for needs.]
The clarity of variant 1.5 is improved above all by the explication of certain notions such as the location of windowsâa decision which will hinge on the translatorâs perception of the consumers of the target text, an important factor in translating which we shall refer to as audience design. But beyond this, there is a structural similarity here to our literary examples (1.1 and 1.2). Here, source and target texts all advance the notion that operating costs may be fairly low and then counter this with a statement that costs can be high in certain circumstances. But each translation conveys this opposition in a different way. In 1.4 , the opposition is backgrounded by (1) being placed in the same sentence and made dependent on the same subject and (2) being accompanied by the modal adverbial bien sĂ»r (âof courseâ), which relays an implicature of the kind: âbut this is an obvious point, hardly worth mentioningâ. In 1.5, the emphasis is quite different. The use of par contre (âneverthelessâ or âon the other handâ) in a second sentence, juxtaposed to the first one, foregrounds an important caveat, which might be glossed as âbut pay attention to high running costs in certain conditionsâ. In no way can it be claimed that the two variant translations are communicatively, pragmatically or semiotically equivalent.
In our brief consideration of illustrations of counter-argumentation structures in literary and technical texts, we have seen a variety of degrees of emphasis and balance between opposing facts or points of view which reflect differing attitudes on the part of text producers towards what they have to say. The importance of structures such as these in texts and translations w...