An introductory essay by Mascha Dabić
“The limits of my language are the limits of my world”: this principle of the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein is as frequently quoted as it is difficult to refute. Literary translators ensure that the boundaries of one’s own world do not need to remain fixed.
Art connects: people, cultures, worlds, ideas. This also applies to literature; literary texts would be locked in their respective languages were it not for literary translation. Only the meticulous work of translators, who combine solid craftsmanship with a sensitivity to the nuances of a text and creativity, enables the emergence of world literature, thus opening exclusive doors through which one can – by reading, thinking and imagining – access another microcosm.
Literary translators are, first and foremost, extremely attentive readers. The average reader can safely skim through a boring passage. The translator, however, has to get through it: sentence by sentence, through all the metaphors, puns and whims of the author, without losing sight of the text as a whole. It is a balancing act between the necessary faithfulness to the original – so that the result is not rewriting – and the equally necessary freedom to achieve, with the help of creative solutions in another language, what the authors tried to express in their native language.
What is special about literary translation? How is it different from technical texts? – Well, first of all, there is, quite crudely, the economic dimension: literary translation is characterised by extremely poor pay – about two thirds less than for other types of translation. Even though the conditions have improved slightly over the years, there is a lot left to be desired.
Translating literature means attempting to penetrate all levels and intentions of a text and to reproduce them as faithfully as possible in another language. It is an undertaking that is bound to fail – on the one hand. And on the other hand, it’s amazing to notice how well translating usually works: so well that you often don’t even notice the transfer. Which brings us to the next point: the invisibility, or let’s say inconspicuousness, which attests to the quality of this linguistic pursuit. Translations are usually only noticeable when there are faults or deficiencies, because the requirement for translated texts is: seamless and without slips. And yet it would be disastrous if literary translators were to settle for such a defensive approach; translating literature also requires courage and confidence in your own stylistic abilities.
When it comes to new translations of older texts, reviews enjoy praising a work that shines “in a new splendor”. Such a new splendor is denied the audience in the original language, because classics are not rewritten, only retranslated from time to time. Even if there are sales considerations behind such ventures, it is gratifying when an original is revived in this way, like a melody that reveals a different nuance with each new interpretation.
The occupation of literary translation is also facing innovations. Developments in artificial intelligence put into question whether literature can be translated just as convincingly by machines. On the surface it may work; to recognize, interpret and adequately translate the complex facets of literary texts into another language, however, remains a creative achievement that defies automation.
Mascha Dabić is a writer and literary translator from Bosnian, Croatian and Serbian. She also works as an interpreter and teaches at the University of Vienna.