The Tea&Sympathy book club
chose On a Bender, by Eduardo Blanco
Amor, as its last reading of 2012. Reading a Galician classic in English was an
amazing experience and let us discuss cross cultural issues and the trade of the translator. We also had the opportunity to chat with A Esmorga’s translator, Craig Patterson, lecturer at Cardiff University
and a great devotee of Galicia .
What
would going “on a Bender” be like in Cardiff?
Cardiff is renowned for its ‘intense’ night
life and drinking culture, and is a popular destination for hen and stag night
weekends. In fact its reputation for that kind of thing is quite pronounced.
British benders are quite different to Galician ones, of course. They involve
less food for a start…
You said
somewhere that it was Luis González Tosar from the Galician Pen Club who asked
you to translate A Esmorga. Would you
have chosen another Galician novel to translate instead?
Actually it was my friend Xesús Fraga who asked
me, on behalf of Luis González Tosar and the Galician Pen Club. They had wanted
him to do it but he recognised that a native English speaker was needed, and I
think he was right. For obvious reasons there are many Galician novels and
texts that need translating, but I think A
Esmorga was the great challenge on offer from Galician literature because
of its vocabulary and deceptively-complex style. I cannot imagine any text in
Galician being more of a challenge to the translator.
John
Rutherford introduced you to Galician culture. Apart from this influence, what
made you so passionate for our language and culture?
Actually John did not introduce me to Galician
culture. I met him long after my Galician “epiphany”. I was aware of Galicia
since the beginning of my degree in Hispanic Studies in 1992, and even before.
However, the key moment came in February 1995. During 1994-95, I was an Erasmus
student in Salamanca, Spain. Some friends and I hired a car and we drove up to
Galicia for the weekend. We arrived in Santiago on a sunny winter afternoon
just as the sun was dimming. Standing in front of the cathedral, in the
Obradoiro, I fell instantly in love with Galicia and more or less from then
onwards decided to dedicate my research to her. It was one of those moments in
life that you cannot rationalise or even argue with – it was a powerful,
life-changing event. What makes me passionate about Galician language and
culture? Galicia
is a unique place and her language is
unique. Politics aside, for that reason alone she is a nation as natural
as any nation can be. I love Galicia’s otherness. Her uniqueness. The humour of
her people. Their attitude to life (which is generally inspiring, sometimes
infuriating). As I have said before in other interviews, there is a part of me
that only comes alive when I speak Galician, and I feel very comfortable and
natural when that part of me is “living”. Naturally I also enjoy Galician
music, literature and art. Above all, I love Galician food and drink!
What was
the most difficult aspect of the translation?
There were several difficult aspects. Capturing
the voice of Cibrán was sometimes tricky, given that he speaks in essentially a
low to normal register but attempts poetic flourishes from time to time in
order to escape or delay justice. Blanco Amor’s unique syntax is can also prove
very difficult to transform into suitable English syntactical structures. In
terms of vocabulary, the words and and expressions that proved the hardest to
translate were ‘fóra a ialma’ and ‘follateira’. Readers of the translation can
see how I tackled these. Also, I published an article which goes into greater
depth regarding these matters, as well as the issue of Blanco Amor’s
self-translation of A Esmorga as La parranda:
‘Orígenes, retos y
estrategias de la primera traducción inglesa de A esmorga, de Eduardo Blanco Amor’, in Xosé Manuel Dasilva & Helena Tanqueiro, eds., Aproximaciones a la autotraducción
(Vigo, Editorial Academia del Hispanismo, 2011), 177-196
We all
agreed in our praise of the translation of “Milhomes” for “Menaplenty”. Is that
expression used in English or is just your creation?
It is not used in English to the best of my
knowledge. As with the names that I thought had to be translated or lent
themselves to being translated, I could not translate literally where this
would produce something that did not ring true for the English idiomatic ear.
‘Menaplenty’ communicates for me the meanings of the nomenclature in Galicia:
the ironical reference to the masculinity of the character, and the suggestion
of extensive sexual knowledge of an experienced homosexual man.
Menaplenty is the most obvious gay
character in the novel. A Esmorga is meant to be the first
openly homosexual Galician novel. Don’t you think it is a quite exaggerated
consideration? Will the modern English readers be aware of that gay-factor?
I
do not think the character was made to be explicitly and ‘openly homosexual’ in
the novel at the time of its publication. That did not happen until later on in
the history of Galician literature. However, Blanco Amor leaves nothing left to
doubt regarding Milhomes sexuality and of course the strong suggestion of
Bocas’ bisexuality. I think whether the modern English-speaking readers read my
introduction (in which I explain these factors) or not, they will see the
implications in Blanco Amor’s text. Certainly the first time I read the novel
as a student I was aware of that dimension to the characterisation.
Blanco Amor
makes clear in the novel how Galician and Castillian are class-connoted
languages, as the main characters describe Castillian speakers as members of an
upper class (or pretending to be of part of an upper class). Is that diglossia
performance familiar to the British Readers?
I think British readers will understand the
situation, although the sociolinguistic situation(s) in the British isles are
different simply because of the different linguistic roots and origins of the
native British languages – Welsh, Irish, Scots Gaelic and Cornish are Celtic
languages and there is no grey area or ‘castrapo’ between them and English. Furthermore,
today many more languages are spoken in Britain: languages of the Indian
subcontinent, Polish and Arabic to name but a few.
How
well-known is Galician literature amongst British readers? Are Welsh, Scottish
or Irish readers more willing to know about other peripheral literatures than
English ones?
Not very, although we should bear in mind that
the UK
is notorious for its lack of curiosity regarding foreign cultures and
languages. However, largely through the translations of Manuel Rivas’ literature
published with Harvill (London), and the series of translations published by
Planet, based in Wales, Galician literature is certainly more visible than what
it was twenty years ago. I have commented on this extensively, and believe that
the Galician government and Consello da Cultura must take responsibility for
this and set up initiatives in order to produce more translations and market
them effectively in English-speaking countries. However, given the economic
crisis and the politics of the current Galician government, I cannot see that
happening in the near future…
What are Galicia and Wales main
similarities and differences?
Similarities?
They are both by the sea. They have both been conquered and colonised by a
powerful neighbour whose cultural, political and linguistic influence continues
to be mostly negative. Compared to other neighbours who have experienced a
similar fate (Catalonia, Scotland, Euzkadi, Ireland), they both seem to be more
ambivalent about protecting their linguistic, political, cultural and
identitarian heritage (because the extent of colonisation was greater). Their
native languages are both in decline. They are both essentially rural countries
with all of the complex social realities that this engenders. Differences?
Wales is possibly the only country in the world that can be characterised to
some careful degree as ‘Celtic’. Welsh is a genuinely Celtic language; Galician
is not, nor can Galician be called a ‘Celtic’ country.
Is there an
interest in literature published in languages other than English, and most
particularly in minoritised languages?
See my comments above. Generally, not as much as
there should be, probably because of Britain’s imperial past, the global
domination of English, and the general decline of educational standards in the
UK. All of this produces a reticence to publish translated work and to read it.
However, there are exceptional cases where translated work breaks through by
means of careful marketing, film and television tie-ins and also, of course,
good writing triumphing. One example of this from Spain would be Zafón’s The Shadow of the Wind. Scandinavian
crime dramas on television and film have led to the success of Scandinavian
literature in translation (eg. Mankell). The nearest Galician literature has
come to this has been Manuel Rivas’ The
Carpenter’s Pencil and The
Butterfly’s Tongue. There is still a long way to go and it will take
exceptional, decisive and in my opinion interventionist measures to bring about
a serious change in the situation to Galician culture’s advantage in
international terms.
Are there
similarities between Welsh and Galician literature?
I do not (or rather cannot) read Welsh literature in Welsh, and
therefore cannot answer with great authority. However, conversations with
Welsh-speaking friends, and my own reading of Welsh literature in English,
confirms that countries that have similar linguistic, historical, social,
political and cultural contexts (I refer back to your question above) will
express similar concerns in literature, and that is certainly the case between
Galician and Welsh literature: personal and collective identity, rural
stagnation and urban alienation, home and exile/travel.
Blanco Amor decided to narrate
the story in the voice of Cibrán, and for that reason the novel is written in a
very specific slang from Ourense.
However, you decided not to transpose that to a local slang from, for
instance, Dublin. What are the reasons of that choice?
I am half-Irish and was aware from the first time I read A Esmorga in Galician that an Irish
idiomatic voice could be layered very easily on top of the original Galician
voice, in terms of syntax and common Catholic vocabulary and expressions.
However, when we domesticate any translation, from literature to film subtitles,
we sacrifice the cultural artefact’s ‘otherness’, or uniqueness, on the altar
of ease. A Esmorga is a favourite
with its Galician native readers precisely because it captures the loneliness
of that otherness, the bewildering solitude of being on the edge in life and
culture and society in so many different ways (class, language, sexuality,
etc.), and I did not want to dilute that effect in English by confusing the
reader with recognisable but nevertheless different cultural substitutes. When
I look back on the experience of the translation and the first several months
of its reception, I am glad that I did not. Galicia is not Ireland. Galicia is
Galicia, and that alone should suffice.
Related with the former question, what is
the translator’s job like nowadays?
I am not a professional or full-time translator, so I cannot answer the
question with as much authority as I would like. However, from friends who do
work full-time as translators, I am aware that it is often a
(financially-)precarious way of life with pressures and deadlines as much as
any other. We are still a long way away from the translator, whether
professional or amateur, being given the respect that he or she deserves,
especially in Britain. On another note, in the twenty-first century we have
email, Skype and Google as well as dedicated and specialised electronic
multimedia tools, and all of these speed up and help the translator enormously.
The difficult translation of On a Bender
definitely benefitted from these resources.
You are working now on a
translation of Sempre en Galiza. What
are the differences in translating Castelao’s political prose and Blanco-Amor’s
“avant-garde” novel?
I have been working on and off on Sempre
en Galiza for about a decade, an am now in the final year or two (I hope!).
They are good projects to compare and contrast. Blanco Amor’s novel is of
course much shorter than Castelao’s text, but infinitely more difficult for all
of the reasons that we discuss above. Castelao’s opus is not very difficult in
linguistic terms. The English translation will be a critical edition with
footnotes, and what is time-consuming is attempting to identify unreferenced
sources in Castelao’s work from where he quotes (and he often does this without
reference), and providing explanatory footnotes on the Galician cultural and
political context for the non-specialised target reader. In short, the
challenge of the translation of Sempre en
Galiza concerns scope, whereas with A
Esmorga it concerned linguistic and creative complexity: the avante-garde
quality to which you refer. Thank you for the interview: I enjoyed answering
these questions.
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