Sunday, June 26, 2016

Classic Lewis

Toward the end of the first section of Chapter 12, Lewis is describing Gottlieb who, despite his efforts to eradicate disease, is a little uncertain as to whether humanity deserves this favor: "[H]e doubted ... the superiority of divine mankind to the cheerful dogs, the infallibly graceful cats, the unmoral and unagitated and irreligious horses, the superbly adventuring seagulls."

Thursday, June 9, 2016

The Bank President in the Dive

In Chapter 11, Martin is getting bored with his internship at Zenith General, except for the "ambulance work," which has it's moments of excitement, such as this one: 
       "He took a bank president out of a dive; he helped the family conceal the disgrace..."

This illuminates the thing I love about language translation. As a reader it doesn't really matter what is precisely meant. Most of us probably get a similar general notion, while the details we imagine are probably somewhat different. That's good enough for purposes of the story. 

But to translate something like this, it really helps if the exact meaning is known because it might be difficult to represent a similar range of ambiguity in reasonably concise language. The problems here are a) what is the specific meaning of dive, b) and did the president die, or just need Martin's help to leave -- by ambulance, for instance?

Because Martin helps the family, not the president, conceal the disgrace, the implication is that the president is dead, though this could be otherwise. Our translator was able to maintain this ambiguity, but he took the word dive to mean that the president has committed, or at least attempted, suicide by drowning. This is probably a reasonable interpretation by someone unfamiliar with the slang meanings of the word. 

I'm pretty sure Lewis didn't mean dive in this sense. That's not usually how such a notion would be written in English, and why does the president need to go to The Arbor to do this? In fact, it's not clear there's a body of water there at all.

But then, am I sure of my own interpretation? How was the word dive used in Lewis' time?

Internet research is an advantage the original translator did not have, but my use of it indicates that the seedy bar meaning of dive comes from the mid to late nineteenth century, only to be invigorated by the Prohibition, when speakeasies were often in cellars. So this was current slang when Lewis wrote Arrowsmith.

Now, to me, dive could also mean any seedy establishment. Rather than a bar, it could also be a brothel, for instance, especially one in a run-down building, such as would likely be found in The Arbor. This, of course, amplifies the level of disgrace that needed concealing. But my research indicates that the bar interpretation is more likely, for the period, and that the presence of prostitutes in such establishments is a time honored tradition, so certainly not precluded by the fact that it is a bar we're talking about.

Now, I did all of that trying to find the right word to use for dive in this sense. And after all of that I discovered the perfect word. It would have been perfect even without the research, but then I'd have missed out on all the fun. 

The word is moguri-sakaba. The second part is one of many ways to say bar. The first actually means both dive and underground. Although it's not widely used in Japanese, it has sufficient currency to be understood. It's perfect, in fact.




Monday, June 6, 2016

Oldest Man in the World

Early in Chapter 11, Martin has just ridden in the ambulance to a fire and saved a fireman when he is approached by a reporter: "In years he was only twenty-nine, but he was the oldest and perhaps the most cynical man in the world."

This had been translated as "most skilled" and "most critical," and the "perhaps" was missing entirely.

This is not an unreasonable translation, but it smacks of one of two possible problems with the translator: a) he's entirely missing the irony and, perhaps, thinks he's missing something in the language, or that it's written poorly, or b) he doesn't feel he can trust the reader with such language.

The former is excusable. We all just do the best we can and none of us ever gets anything entirely right. 

But I have little tolerance for the latter. Surely, there are levels of readers. Some will read quickly not thinking twice about the unusual language. 

It will bother others, as though something is broken. Of this type, some will feel it only vaguely, while it will really bother others. 

But is for the final type that this passage is actually written. This type sees that "oldest" shouldn't be considered in absolute terms, but that this person is, perhaps, wise, seasoned or grown up beyond his years. 

I will confess that I don't know exactly what Lewis meant. But I get a notion of what it might mean, and I think my reader deserves to see what Lewis actually wrote, and make his own judgement.

My version says "oldest and perhaps the most cynical." This is footnote 140 in 114 pages. (When I've completed this draft I'll write a version without the footnotes, including only my corrections, and not the original translations.)