Ronkainen, Jonika -- 4/25 Comments

Friday's lecture:

I really enjoyed getting to see Joanna's work-in-progress pieces on Friday! I forgot who is was from our class, but I also appreciate whoever asked her at the end what her planned next steps were -- I don't quite remember her response, but I remember that it was interesting so I might have to go back and look at the recording once it's uploaded. It was striking to see how much effort Joanna had put into trying to get to know Ginczanka, and Ginczanka as a translator herself, so she could almost read Ginczanka's poems through who Ginczanka was because evidently, I think, Joanna saw Ginczanka's poetry to be very intimately tied to who Ginczanka was as a person, and the life that she led. I also really enjoyed hearing her talk about the actual/political use that poetry for Ginczanka (the works she translated) and Ginczanka's own poetry got put to. I loved hearing her talk about this subversive ability of translation as in the case of the war-poem she talked about (I unfortunately cannot remember what the poem was even though I know it was by someone very well known) to slip under the radar of censorship authorities -- I think that anecdote speaks to something universally true about translation which is that because a translator has to believe that their text can in fact be translated, at some capacity (and so is not merely particular to the language it was written in), it always has the potential to be subversive to bigoted/xenophobic causes that want to see people who speak other languages in different cultures as fundamentally different. This, I think we've already talked about a lot, but I think Joanna's example concretizes this kind of abstract idea well. 

I loved the Kafka quote, "I, who am not even the pawn of a pawn in the great chess game, fat from it, now want to take the place of the queen,, -- I, the pawn of a pawn, a piece which doesn't even exist, which isn't even in the game-- and next I may want to take the king's place as well or even the whole board"  in the context of "Revenge of the Translator" but I'm not quite sure how I feel about the book itself -- I think the setup reference to Kafka gave me higher expectations. I wasn't expecting the second-person introduction, but I'm really really curious how the second-person might differ in the original French. Of the two, I think In Concrete was definitely my favorite. I also think I am an annotations supporter -- I really liked the footnotes here

Diya's comments

 Lecture: I truly enjoyed the talk with Joanna Trzeicak Huss as she was so transparent with us about her translation projects and then ones she is working on now. Being an avid reader, I love the idea that an author/translator would leave there notes all over a book as it builds depth and helps guide or perhaps add to your thoughts while reading. It’s not something that I’ve seen often and despite the effect on the readability, I think its a great idea! It was so insightful to see her process of translation and why she makes specific literary choices even if they stray from the literal meaning of the word but simultaneously preserve the intention behind the original line. 

Reading: Emma Ramadan's translation of Anne Garréta's In concrete was such a fun read. I loved everything from the incredibly sweet and wholesome storyline to the creativity that Ramadan used during her translations especially how punny she is. The narrative digresses frequently, it’s anything but linear which is so refreshing and Ramadans literary choices fortify that. She used so many literary devices from alliteration to onomatopoeia that really brings her translation to life and bridge the gap between the literary choices that are only possible in her source language. Overall, the text is masterfully translated and is an enjoyable read.

 

Diya

Reflections 4/25

 To me, the poems by Ginczanka related to human nature were a fresh addition to the talk. The metaphors and the subjects invite dwelling and deciphering. I found it interesting that her poetry was viewed as self-centered, and I think it was both true and natural given her age. At the same time, it is also a fact that her poetry displayed mastery of the form and imagery. I wish more was explored about how these two aspects of her poetry interacted together and why. It was helpful for me to learn that the original last line of the last poem by Ginczanka did not mention birds or implied the author was anyone's prey - it looks like this was one of the instances where some translators tried to make the poem what they wanted it to be, i.e. the poem of victimhood or martyrdom, rather than tried to understand the poem itself. I feel like there was also a level of fetishization that got inflicted on this poem because it was written during WWII and because it talks of material possessions. It is familiar and relatable - imagine someone set you up and went through your things - that's not too hard to imagine. Slashing a pupil to hit an empty socket empty as zero - not so much. Yet it seems that most or a lot of Ginczanka's poetry was more of the latter kind.
I disagree that someone's last poem must be their greatest one, or that someone's death means they would have written much more great poetry otherwise. I believe it is possible to value Ginczanka's art without making such assumptions, and that the less such assumptions we make, the more we can unbiasedly pay attention to what the author has written. 

"Revenge of the Translator" seems to be the author talking to himself, and I am not sure what made it important to listen. He talked of removing something because it "uselessly hinders the reader", yet to me his entire talking had the style that uselessly hindered following him. It felt like he enjoyed torturing himself over the text he didn't like, calling another writer "my author" to compensate for the lack of power he feels, excusing himself before an invisible judge with double negations like "this is surely not insignificant", and other things reflecting him being caught in mind games with his own self. If he wanted to write books instead of translate, he could do that. If he doesn't have respect for what he does - then why do it, let alone flaunt it and make it into a book? I feel that there is a normalization of disrespect in society.

"In Concrete" had a more lighthearted and clear narrative style, it was easy to follow and didn't weigh on the mind. There were some mentions here and there that made me wish to learn more about, that absorbed me into the picture and intrigued me. Even though the author does largely talk to herself here, too, she and their mind don't take the entire space and leave room for the reader to engage. In fact, the author's engagement with her own story works in a contagious way; it's clear she likes what she is writing about and likes writing about it. And so one wishes to be part of it. 

-Ksenia

Reflections 4/25

     I really appreciated that Joanna Trzeciak Huss was open to showing us her works in progress, and open to questions/opinions from the audience. She was so sweet and seems like a curious, intelligent, open-minded translator. In particular, I thought her translation of the "burning hands" Polish idiom into English as "many hands make light work" was genius, and definitely my favorite choice out of the other four (which were stuck on keeping the burning aspect, which just doesn't make sense translate literally). However, the line crossing-out and added notes that she was going to publish with her translations seems like a bad idea, in my opinion. I think this would only be beneficial to other translators, and it may turn readers off from reading translations (even more so than they already are) because there is too much going on/it is too difficult to read. 

    Revenge of the Translator was not my favorite read. I think the concept behind the book is too kitschy for my taste, and it's something I'd never pick up off a shelf in my spare time. I thought it was well-written, and the moments that made me think about the translator's creative control over the source text (and therefore how he's responsible for the perception of the source text in the eyes of thousands of readers from another language) were extra valuable to me. It's just that the reading experience was a 1/5 for me; there is a lack of flow, and a constant sense of starting-and-stopping that drives me a little crazy, but that *is* the book's premise, so how can I complain about it? :')

    On the flip side, I loved In Concrete! The voice is so witty and fun, and I was smiling through a big portion of the first 50 pages. I am so impressed with the translation, as well, and how Emma Ramadan plays with words and sounds. "It's all a bladder of time", "wasn't being fuelish" (foolish), "premuddernization", "no grout about it". Ramadan seems like she'd be a clever, funny, creative genius of a person to have come up with such a masterful translation. It was awesome! I also loved the dynamics between the main character and Poulette, because I have three sisters, and their relationship was nostalgic and sweet to read. 

 Sarah

4/25 Reflections

     I greatly enjoyed having Joanna here for a talk, especially prior to her actual talk when we had an interesting discussion about context, and how much and what sort should be given to the reader to enjoy a poem. After reflecting upon the collaborative part of her talk, I feel like I'm getting closer to understanding why I don't like translating poetry. To her there are so many possibilities and readings that are all possible, but I find it difficult to settle on any one answer. The incredibly wide berth of information she had on Ginczanka also makes the task of translating a poem so much more daunting; there's just so much work that goes into not only making the choices that create the translation, but so much research needed to understand references and context.

    I am also really looking forward to the talk this week, seeing as I enjoyed Translators Revenge quite a bit. After looking through the original French, it's striking that the formatting of the original text isn't quite like the translation. I find changing the format like this results in a more enjoyable experience, the translators notes always being on the bottom, below a bar that separates it from the rest of the translation. I'd love to hear about what sort of thinking led to this more drastic format, and what the translator felt as they attempted to translate this particular book, and maybe about what themes the translator thinks is present in the original, how well they transferred over given the many levels of meta Translators Revenge operates on.

Steven

      Likewise, In Concrete was also a very fun read, but what particularly stood out to me was the frequent use of alliteration and sound matching. I know she writes about it at the end of the book, and she touches upon how the feelings evoked by the original text are due to what is possible in the source language to begin with, but she does also state that there is always a way, a sentiment that I find hard to immediately reconcile with. I'm looking forward to asking Emma about it on Friday.

    

Ginczanka Wrap-Up and Muddern French Translation

It was wonderful of Joanna Trzeciak Huss to show us unfinished translations during her talk, and I think it's a brilliant idea that she plans to publish some of her translations with cross-outs and margin notes. As someone who's new-ish to translation, it's really refreshing to hear a seasoned translator talk through her trouble spots or her dissatisfactions in a draft. I think it's a good reminder to all of us that there isn't a magic moment where translation suddenly becomes easy or where you stop having doubts. Translation is problem-solving, and new problems crop up constantly. Huss mentioned changing singular "catkin" to a plural in subsequent versions of her translation of Ginczanka's "Senses" in order to link it to the counting in the following stanzas, and then she told us it's important to pay attention to the logic of a poem. I am often intimidated by poetry translation, but Huss's comment helped demystify the process for me. Poetry has a logic, just as prose does. Translating a poem prompts a series of questions, but the poem also has answers embedded within it: we just have to look closely for them. 

Emma Ramadan's translation of Garréta's In Concrete is a masterclass in compensation. There's a lot in Garréta's original that a translator would be hard-pressed to render in English (Ramadan touches on the homophonic language and misspellings in her translator's note, for example, and I have lots of examples to show everyone in class tomorrow). I loved Ramadan's description of how she took advantage of "linguistic blurriness" in her translation in order to make up for the lost language play. To me, this translation drives home the point that, in order to successfully translate the Oulipo, traditional ideas of "faithfulness" need to be thrown out the window. Since the point of oulipian literature is to challenge boundaries of language, translations of oulipian texts need to challenge their respective languages in different ways than the original does. Ramadan takes every opportunity she can find to add a pun, and her willingness to shape the translation into its own text with its own peculiarities makes it an exhilarating read. I found myself laughing out loud (or groaning at a pun) every several pages. 

Ramadan's linguistic ingenuity is on display in her translation of Matthieussent's Revenge of the Translator too, though she deals with fewer constraints. One thing that struck me last week when we read this book for Professor Vincent's class is that there's a lot of machismo in this text, both in the power struggle between author(s) and translator(s), and in their relationships with women. The author is not particularly kind to his female characters. I wonder what it was like for Ramadan to work on a project like this. In any case, reading these two books back-to-back proves just how versatile Ramadan's translatorial voice is. 

-Maggie

Reflections 25/4/2022

 

Before the talk, Joanna Huss talked a little bit about the importance of mentors, particularly for women (translators) in academia. She talked about a bad experience she had had, and how after that, she made it a priority to actively see and support those coming into the field after her. I thought this idea of mentorship—particularly women mentoring other women—resonated beautifully with the way in which she talked about Ginczanka. She did not shy away from saying that Ginczanka was beautiful, curious about sex and humanity and the metaphysical universe all at the same time. I felt that she saw Ginczanka on so many different, important levels without fixating on one singular moment or facet. Huss took into consideration Ginczanka’s youth, her family life, her physical appearance, her early poems, her later poems, photographs of her, the material that remains from her life, the material that was either lost or yet to be found. The way Huss discussed Ginczanka’s work reminded me very much of the concept of “herstory,” a feminist history that includes memory, stories, dreams, poetry, and multiple, sometimes even contradictory narratives rather than a linear, chronological, patriarchal History.

 

Emma Ramadan’s translation of Anne Garreta’s In Concrete is just a brilliant breaking down. Of course, the title In Concrete, suggests a sort of fixed-ness, stuck foreverness. But then Garreta and Ramadan do just the opposite. The text is, as we have seen throughout the course of this semester, a flexible, always changing, always moving thing. Almost immediately, In Concrete breaks down the very flexible boundaries between written and spoken language—the young narrator’s words constantly shifting between the two and peppered with wordplay. Perhaps more importantly, the novel breaks down fixed notions of storytelling and… novels themselves. Instead of a highly linear narrative, the novel somehow establishes an all-at-once slowed down and sped up understanding of time. The family is constantly in motion, with things moving and breaking and needing repair, and then a narrator who is side-tracked, distracted by this or that digression. 

 

I found Ramadan’s translator’s note at the very end particularly helpful and moving. On page 178, Ramadan calls the book “a feminist inversion of a domestic drama” (178) and I agree—the voice of a young, female narrator who knows a hilarious and jaw-dropping amount of information about machinery, concrete mixers, glands, and electricity is enough to suggest this—but regardless, I’m curious to hear Ramadan speak more about how she sees feminism operating in this text.

-sharon