Proceeding Cautiously To Avoid Getting "Lost"

I’ve been struggling the past few days to come up with a way to explain why I’m grouping this first set of books together.  In my head, I know why.  It makes complete sense to me.  But when I’ve tried to translate it from my head onto paper it’s gotten, well… lost.

As I mentioned the other day I do not want to slap a “bad” label on these books as that’s unfair.  These are my thoughts and impressions only.  But I want to present them as examples of how and why translated texts sometimes end up getting a bad rap and to discuss why there may be more than it just being a “bad” book.  I am not by any means suggesting that these books should not be read.  But one phrase kept popping into my head when I thought how best to explain it:

This isn’t a STOP!  Or even “Danger Ahead.”  It’s more about recognizing that certain elements of these books have the potential to be problematic.  They are in no way limited to these titles but these are the ones I chose to discuss some of these elements that can lead to a greater misunderstanding about many translated titles.  By pointing out a few examples, my hope is that we can “proceed with caution” around those potential pitfalls instead of mislabeling the entire genre.

Speaking of genres, let’s start with a book that tackles a specific genre, one considered the trickiest for translators to tackle – poetry.   If a poem is “translatable” is a hot-button issue in the world of translation.  Translator Sungeng Hariyanto wrote, “literary translation is the most difficult task a translator can face and translating poetry is the most complicated genre in terms of translation since both the form and the meaning of a poem has to be taken into consideration.” 

So what does all this mean to us when we pick up a translated text that contains poetic elements?  Should we question the merits of translating poetry?  That depends, I suppose.  If you want a replica of the original poem, you’re out of luck.  But in all honesty, as I noted on Friday, no translation is an exact replica from source to target language.  Poetry, perhaps even more so as there is no possible way to directly translate the nuances of poetry such as musicality, rhyme scheme, alliteration, and assonance, to name just a few poetic techniques.  Instead, we are dependent on the translator to not give us a replica, but in many ways, a brand new poem inspired by the original.  

When you consider the importance of poetry in children’s literature, specifically in forms such as lullabies, nursery rhymes, and nonsense verse or rhyme scheme within a work, the problem becomes even more complicated.  In her 2016 book Translating Children’s Literature, scholar Gillian Lathey notes that because of the complexity of translating poetry, it is often children’s poets who translate children’s verse.  She points out that “an accomplished poet as translator has the expertise and experience to create a new and aesthetically satisfying poem in the target language” (101).  

I could easily spend numerous posts engaging in the finer details and debates surrounding translating poetry, but I honestly think that’s a waste of time.  Instead, I offer it up with that idea to “proceed with caution” when picking up a translated title featuring poetry.  That is not to say don’t read it, but it’s instead, to mindful of the fact that what you are reading may be vastly different than the author wrote it in its original form.  It doesn’t take away from the poem in its translated state, but if you fall for the rhyme scheme or alliteration of a translated poem, consider that to more likely be at the hands of the translator than the author.

Doggy Slippers

By: Jorge Lujan

Illustrated by: Isol

Translated by: Elisa Amado

I did read quite a few poetry based picture books when I was originally sorting through my extensive list of translated titles, but it was Argentinian poet Jorge Lujan’s Doggy Slippers, that stuck out at me as one that deserved some attention.  While Lujan is credited as the author, it seems he had a little help with his creative process.  As is further explained on the jacket flap and an endnote in the book, children from across Latin America were invited to share information about their pets.  (11 of them are specifically named in the endnote.)  Lujan took those letters and crafted Doggy Slippers, a poetic picture book with twelve poems featuring dogs, cats, hamsters, turtles and even a monkey!  The poems are off-set by the somewhat abstract and whimsical work of Argentine author and illustrator, Isol, some of which are reminiscent of drawings that could have been created by the children that collaborated on the poetry.  I also want to point out that Elisa Amado, who is credited with the translation, is a child’s author in her own right.

I can’t claim that I was jumping up and down over this book (my animal-loving son, though, claims it’s near the top of his list), but the combination of the original author is an award-winning poet, the collaborative effort, the illustration and the noted skills of the translator make it plausible for me to suggest that this may be a “good” representation of translated poetry in picture book form.  I have no idea how close it is to its original, Pantulflas de Perrito, in terms of poetic form.  It honestly may not matter as long as we, as readers, are aware of the complexities of translating poetry.  Perhaps it’s worth considering, when coming across a translated poetry book that doesn’t quite hit the mark, that it could be just as likely due to how it got from Point A to Point B than the original work itself.

I mentioned the other day that one of the other concerns I think it’s important that we as readers are aware of is authenticity and accuracy, not only in the words but it what is being portrayed.  As awareness for diversity in children’s literature increases, it is imperative that portrayals of diverse characters are authentic is creation and accurate in representation.  This is necessary for any book we read, especially those meant for younger audiences, translated or not.  Let me give a few examples of what I mean and why they may be potentially problematic.

The First Teddy Bear in Africa!

My Father’s Shop

Written, Illustrated and Translated by Satomi Ichikawa

Japanese born author, Satomi Ichikawa has lived in France since she was in her early 20’s, where she has written, illustrated and published a vast number of children’s books, featuring many different settings (in addition to Africa and Morocco from the two titles above, she also has works set in France, Puerto Rico and Guatemala) and cultures.  On the surface, I can understand the many positive reviews noting the diversity in Ichikawa’s creation, but it’s when organizations praise the “setting and the believable African characters” of The First Teddy Bear in Africa! or the note that “tourists wear attire appropriate for their country of origin” in My Father’s Shop that I think warrants further conversation.

While I am sure that Ichikawa’s attempts to represent diversity to young readers is well-intentioned, they tend to rely heavily on stereotypes to represent cultures Ichikawa is unfamiliar with.  Like this blogger noted about Teddy Bear, the problem lies in “ the aptness with which it mirrors the post-colonial relationship of the developed world to Africa: wealthy outsiders come, have their fun and leave when they want to, doing little to improve the lives of the people they gawk at and take pictures of...”  A New York Times review called it a “vestige of cultural incorrectness,” and also notes that while Swahili is used in the text, the setting is “Africa,” not one specific country, which furthers the “mistaken idea that Africa is one big Lion King-style monolith rather than a distinct mix of countries.”

I’m sure to some this comes across as hyper-critical and that it’s “just a children’s book.” As I said, I believe Ichikawa’s intentions are good but is hers the best voice to tell the story of a young African boy or depict the going-ons in a Moroccan market? Especially as we are dealing with texts in translation, would it not be a more accurate representation of someone who has lived these actual experiences? If nothing, we need to be aware stereotypical depictions and be aware against simply accepting those depictions as fact. While I’m noting it here as it relates to translated texts, I suggest it’s an area you “proceed with caution” in with all your reading.

Caution is necessary when considering not only the culture being represented in the story, but when we consider the culture that it emanated from versus our own.  While some translated texts provide a window to another world, that opacity we’ve previously discussed sometimes fogs up the glass to the point of misunderstanding.  When we try to make sense of the unfamiliarity the big picture often gets lost in translation.

Meena

By: Sine van Mol

Illustrated by Carianne Wijffels

Translated by: Foreign Publisher (see explanation below)

Fair warning, I had a very strong reaction to this book, and I will readily admit it was not a positive one.  But it can all be traced to one word and my own personal context of it as opposed to what I felt was depicted in the story.  I’m getting ahead of myself, but I wanted to note from the start that this was MY take on the book and I strongly encourage you to check it out and form your own opinions and interpretations.  In all effort to be fair, the book did land on the United States Board on Books for Young People (USBBY) Outstanding International Books List for 2012.

When I pick up a book, I start at the beginning.  No, not on the first page, but with the cover (I always take the dust cover off to see if there are any hidden surprises on the case cover!) and then the inside jacket flap.  Here’s what I found when I opened Meena:

“The children of Fly Street are convinced that Meena is a witch.  After all, she eats toads and drinks blood, doesn’t she?  One day she even imprisons a girl inside her house!  But has she really?  Will Klaas, Christa, and Thomas be able to rise above their fears and find a new friend?  This humorous book about overcoming misunderstandings and finding new friends in unlikely places shows that things are not always what they seem.”

Let’s be honest, we’ve all been that kid (or adult!) that has seen someone and for some reason, our imagination kicks into overdrive and we are convinced they have some sinister persona or intention.  The set-up for the book rang true, especially three kids hanging out and dreaming up possibilities that the elderly lady down the street just may be a witch!  I was fully prepared for the “humorous” take on these children being able to learn from their misunderstanding and potentially befriend Meena.

Instead, I found no humor in how quickly the actions of the three children escalated from gossiping amongst themselves to chanting “Fat Meena” outside her door, scrawling WITCH on her sidewalk, to discussing poisoning her so that she will die.  They decide death may be extreme and send her a letter starting “GO AWAY OR ELSE!!!!”

My dismay continued at the abrupt ending to the story, whereupon tasting a cherry pie she’s baked and not dying, the kids do a complete 180 and are off to visit “Grandma Meena.”  There’s no regret for their actions, no apologies for the way they treated her, no admission that they were mistaken – just delicious pie means she is wonderful.  I understand that a text doesn’t need to be didactic and heavy-handed, but these kids went from plotting her death to calling her Grandma!

I was baffled and convinced I must have missed something or that potentially something major went lost in translation.  I admit that my reading was probably skewed by my “adult goggles” in terms of my reaction to the kid’s behavior, but could my idea of humor really have missed the mark by that much?  As I noted above, there was no translator listed in the book, so I contacted Eerdmans Books for Young Readers, the US publisher, to ask for the name of the translator.  I received the following response:

“Thanks for reaching out to us with your question! Unfortunately, we didn’t have a particular translator for Meena. The foreign publisher we bought the English rights from created a translation for us, which we then edited.”

I decided to do a little more digging and was able to find the website of the Belgian publisher of the original text Mina Lieverd.  Through the magic of google translation (suggesting that this all should be taken with a grain of salt…), I learned that Lieverd translates to “my sweetheart.”  The character in the source title is actually named “Mina,” so the title would be closer to “Sweetheart Mina.”  Where did Meena in English come from?  Why not just leave the character’s name Mina since we already have Klaas?  If there was no domestication with one name why the other?  Personally, I was already thinking Meena might be a "hint" at the title character's personality, which was backed-up by the children's calling her a "witch," but it seems that was not the original intent at all.  Why not just leave it "Mina" which would possibly not draw readers to make that connection?  And what happened to ‘sweetheart’?  We’ve already discussed that translation is not a word for word replication, but it seems some liberties were taken with this particular translation.  Or perhaps, as it was created by a foreign publisher, something went missing before it even made to Eerdmans, or even was misconstrued by them during the editing process.  It’s all worth keeping in mind.

I also did not find any reference to humor on the Belgian publisher’s website.  Well, with one exception.  There was a blurb from the website Biblion, calling it a “humorous story about fear and prejudice” (because those things go together…).  It turns out Biblion is sourced through the New York Public Library, though, suggesting that their information was based on the translated version I had read which has the “humorous” note on the jacket flap.

As I said, my reading of the book was heavily clouded by my own expectations of what was labeled as a humorous story.  I still contend that the abrupt resolution would have still left me feeling flummoxed, though.  My intention behind sharing this particular book is to note how as readers we have to be aware of how our own personal perspective and interpretation shape our reaction to a work.  We need to be cautious about what may not have translated correctly between the source and target to form those impressions.  A review of the book by Worlds of Words, sourced by the University of Arizona to promote reading across cultures, has a very different interpretation of Meena than my own.  I found it to be one of the most comprehensive takes of how the culture Meena was created in and for can be received worldwide.  I’ve offered up my take and if you’re interested, I suggest checking out theirs as well.

Hopefully, you’re not “losing” interest in all this discussion about the potential pitfalls existing between taking a book from source to target.  I saved this category until the end so that in my research I would hopefully be able to better learn what they were and how we can combat the preconceived notions about translated texts they tend to exacerbate.  There will be no post this Friday (Happy Thanksgiving on Thursday to my American readers!) but I’ll be back here next Tuesday with a closer look at two more books that present problematic issues facing translated materials, one in which illustration might not match up with text and one that if read out of context may cause major concern.  See you then!