Without translation, much of the best writing — and thinking — of other cultures would be lost to English-speaking readers. As it is, only a fraction of the world's books are translated into English. Of all books published in the United States, about 3 percent are translations.
As author Paul Auster wrote for a PEN translation report: "Translators are the shadow heroes of literature, the often forgotten instruments that make it possible for different cultures to talk to one another, who have enabled us to understand that we all, from every part of the world, live in one world."
Some of these "shadow heroes" are right under our noses, converting Spanish stories, Polish novels and Greek poetry into English. Others are training translators or publishing the best international writing. However obscure these endeavors may be to the general reader, as economic globalization becomes the norm, interest in translation is growing.
"I think it's picking up," said Douglas Kibbee, director of the School of Literatures, Cultures, and Linguistics at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, which has a new Center for Translation Studies. "If you look at what's reviewed in The New York Times Book Review, more translations are showing up. Now it's rare to go a single issue without having a translated work in it. Also, the number of universities that have some kind of translation courses seem to be increasing although there are still few that have a real degree program.
When the university revealed its plan for the center last year, it said it wanted to address the "dearth" of translated literature. Kibbee, who hopes that eventually the school will offer a master's degree in translation studies, announced the center's first director last month. She is Elizabeth Lowe, associate director of the Center for Latin American Studies at the University of Florida in Gainesville.
Kibbee, who translated African folktales from Baoule in "The Voice of the Elders," said that "as fast as translators get produced, they have more work than they know what to do with."
That work isn't necessarily literary; it's usually for business or government communication. But some foreign governments are eager to spread knowledge about their fiction writers and even subsidize publication at Dalkey Archive Press at the University of Illinois. Dalkey Archive publishes about 26 books a year, nearly three-quarters of them translated from other languages.
As a nonprofit, the press receives money not just from the state of Illinois and the U.S. government, but also from foreign governments that want to increase international awareness of their cultures. Dalkey chooses which books to publish.
Associate editor Martin Riker said it's ironic that so few books published in the United States come from other countries.
"If you think about it, it's odd that we live in a country where the rest of the world is a niche market," she said.
But since Sept. 11, 2001, Riker said, interest in the issue of translation has grown.
He won't say that reading books from other cultures makes Americans better people. But he will say that translation expands the aesthetics of literature, helping it stay vibrant with infusions from other cultures.
"Every significant movement in literature is tied to a moment when cultures are interacting with one another."
A hindrance to publishing translations is the cost. Translation isn't free.
Two translators in St. Louis received grants from the National Endowment for the Arts last fall.
Philip Boehm is better-known in this city for work with Upstream Theater (he recently wrote and directed "Return of the Bedbug"). But, he said, "translations pay more than the theater work at the moment."
The NEA gave Boehm $20,000 to support translation of "Settlement" by German writer Christoph Hein. Usually the best or most important works of a country are chosen for translation. Boehm's version of "'A Woman in Berlin," an anonymous diary about horrific rapes of the author and other women in Soviet-occupied Berlin at the end of World War II, was reviewed widely as a work of fine literature and won translation prizes in both Britain and America.
Boehm translates two or three books a year from German or Polish along with opinion pieces for The New York Times. For him, the skill is in "recomposing" the work in another language, a process he likens to "taking a script for a play and transposing it into another form."
"Translators are artists themselves," he said.
Other translators agree.
"It's so much fun," said St. Louisan Pamela Carmell, who also received a $20,000 NEA grant. "All translators' eyes sparkle when they talk about their work. It's a word puzzle."
Carmell, who teaches Spanish at Webster Groves High School, received her award to translate the last work by an esteemed Cuban author who died in 1976. José Lezama Lima's "Oppiano Licario" was written in his difficult, neo-Baroque style. Lezama Lima was so famous in Cuba that he escaped punishment under Fidel Castro, despite criticism for homosexual content in his novels.
Carmell said she tries to "untwist" an author's style while retaining a strong sense of the original. "Let's face it. It is a slightly different book in English,'' Carmell said "But if you have the right translator, it is an equivalence."
Most Americans are unaware of the wealth of Cuban literature, which Carmell called one of the most exciting writing traditions she has experienced.
"This little island embodies the writing obsession," she said. "Even the guys who are mediocre are great."
Carmell has been a student of one of Missouri's most distinguished translators, Margaret Sayers Peden of the University of Missouri-Columbia. Other professors there are working to raise writing students' awareness of works from other countries.
Toward that end, poet Scott Cairns, director of Center for the Literary Arts, is offering a new summer program to take creative writing students to Greece to study modern Greek and meet contemporary writers. He hopes this will lead to mutual translation efforts.
"To be a significant American writer you need to be an engaged citizen of the world," he said.
As author Paul Auster wrote for a PEN translation report: "Translators are the shadow heroes of literature, the often forgotten instruments that make it possible for different cultures to talk to one another, who have enabled us to understand that we all, from every part of the world, live in one world."
Some of these "shadow heroes" are right under our noses, converting Spanish stories, Polish novels and Greek poetry into English. Others are training translators or publishing the best international writing. However obscure these endeavors may be to the general reader, as economic globalization becomes the norm, interest in translation is growing.
"I think it's picking up," said Douglas Kibbee, director of the School of Literatures, Cultures, and Linguistics at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, which has a new Center for Translation Studies. "If you look at what's reviewed in The New York Times Book Review, more translations are showing up. Now it's rare to go a single issue without having a translated work in it. Also, the number of universities that have some kind of translation courses seem to be increasing although there are still few that have a real degree program.
When the university revealed its plan for the center last year, it said it wanted to address the "dearth" of translated literature. Kibbee, who hopes that eventually the school will offer a master's degree in translation studies, announced the center's first director last month. She is Elizabeth Lowe, associate director of the Center for Latin American Studies at the University of Florida in Gainesville.
Kibbee, who translated African folktales from Baoule in "The Voice of the Elders," said that "as fast as translators get produced, they have more work than they know what to do with."
That work isn't necessarily literary; it's usually for business or government communication. But some foreign governments are eager to spread knowledge about their fiction writers and even subsidize publication at Dalkey Archive Press at the University of Illinois. Dalkey Archive publishes about 26 books a year, nearly three-quarters of them translated from other languages.
As a nonprofit, the press receives money not just from the state of Illinois and the U.S. government, but also from foreign governments that want to increase international awareness of their cultures. Dalkey chooses which books to publish.
Associate editor Martin Riker said it's ironic that so few books published in the United States come from other countries.
"If you think about it, it's odd that we live in a country where the rest of the world is a niche market," she said.
But since Sept. 11, 2001, Riker said, interest in the issue of translation has grown.
He won't say that reading books from other cultures makes Americans better people. But he will say that translation expands the aesthetics of literature, helping it stay vibrant with infusions from other cultures.
"Every significant movement in literature is tied to a moment when cultures are interacting with one another."
A hindrance to publishing translations is the cost. Translation isn't free.
Two translators in St. Louis received grants from the National Endowment for the Arts last fall.
Philip Boehm is better-known in this city for work with Upstream Theater (he recently wrote and directed "Return of the Bedbug"). But, he said, "translations pay more than the theater work at the moment."
The NEA gave Boehm $20,000 to support translation of "Settlement" by German writer Christoph Hein. Usually the best or most important works of a country are chosen for translation. Boehm's version of "'A Woman in Berlin," an anonymous diary about horrific rapes of the author and other women in Soviet-occupied Berlin at the end of World War II, was reviewed widely as a work of fine literature and won translation prizes in both Britain and America.
Boehm translates two or three books a year from German or Polish along with opinion pieces for The New York Times. For him, the skill is in "recomposing" the work in another language, a process he likens to "taking a script for a play and transposing it into another form."
"Translators are artists themselves," he said.
Other translators agree.
"It's so much fun," said St. Louisan Pamela Carmell, who also received a $20,000 NEA grant. "All translators' eyes sparkle when they talk about their work. It's a word puzzle."
Carmell, who teaches Spanish at Webster Groves High School, received her award to translate the last work by an esteemed Cuban author who died in 1976. José Lezama Lima's "Oppiano Licario" was written in his difficult, neo-Baroque style. Lezama Lima was so famous in Cuba that he escaped punishment under Fidel Castro, despite criticism for homosexual content in his novels.
Carmell said she tries to "untwist" an author's style while retaining a strong sense of the original. "Let's face it. It is a slightly different book in English,'' Carmell said "But if you have the right translator, it is an equivalence."
Most Americans are unaware of the wealth of Cuban literature, which Carmell called one of the most exciting writing traditions she has experienced.
"This little island embodies the writing obsession," she said. "Even the guys who are mediocre are great."
Carmell has been a student of one of Missouri's most distinguished translators, Margaret Sayers Peden of the University of Missouri-Columbia. Other professors there are working to raise writing students' awareness of works from other countries.
Toward that end, poet Scott Cairns, director of Center for the Literary Arts, is offering a new summer program to take creative writing students to Greece to study modern Greek and meet contemporary writers. He hopes this will lead to mutual translation efforts.
"To be a significant American writer you need to be an engaged citizen of the world," he said.
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