Sue Burke's Blog, page 70

You killed Manolete!

I saw the movie Gravity in “versión original,” which in Spain means in the original language with Spanish subtitles. One subtitle taught an interesting lesson in translation. When Matt asks Ryan where she lives, “Where do you pitch your tent?” the Spanish subtitle read, “Where do you keep your toothbrush?” It was a good idiomatic translation. In Spanish, the word for tent is also the word for store, a usage dating back to medieval times when shopping was done at weekly or annual fairs where itinerant merchants pitched their tents. If that sentence had been translated literally, Matt would have asked her where her store was. So an alternative had to be found, and this sounded just as jocular in Spanish as in the original English.

Translation isn’t always so easy. Here in Spain, if something is very successful, it “leaves by the big gate.” This is a reference to bullfighting, where a matador who has a very successful fight is carried out of the main gate of the bullring on the shoulders of his crew, surrounded by cheering fans. You could translate it as “hits a home run,” but Spaniards don’t play baseball. You could just say “very successful,” but the verve of the expression gets lost in translation.

Similarly, there’s an expression, “They blamed him for everything. He even killed Manolete.” Again, this is a bullfighting reference. Manolete (1917-1947) is generally considered the greatest bullfighter ever. He was killed in the ring by a bull named Islero. To blame someone for Manolete’s death is a way of saying that the person is the culmination of all evil. I can’t think of any translation that would not be another lesson in loss.

I call my LiveJournal blog “Mount Oregano.” That comes from the Spanish saying, “No todo el monte es orégano.” “The mountain isn’t all oregano.” That means that any path up a mountain – that is, any task you undertake – won’t be completely easy and agreeable or even fragrant. Except that monte doesn’t exclusively mean mount or mountain. It can also mean uncultivated land covered with trees, thickets, or scrub. Or it can mean hills, or even the countryside in general – and in some of these senses, the saying makes more sense. Still, I’m sticking with “Mount” because “Scrubland Oregano” sounds like a weak title for a blog to me. “Oregano Hills” sounds okay but seems too far from the original, which can be a genuine concern in translation. This is a judgement call, however, and your opinion is as valid as mine.

One test for a translation is whether it both means the same as the original and has the same effect on the reader: If it had been expressed originally in the target language, how would it have been said? Sometimes this is a test with many right answers, but none of them are perfect.

— Sue Burke

Also posted at my professional website:

Go Ahead — Write This Story: Lists

We love lists. That's the secret of success for the Cracked website. You can tell stories with lists, too.

1. You need a clear plot with rising tension, like any other story.

2. The items need not be numbered, but they must clearly be a list.

3. You must have enough items to tell a satisfying story, and each item on the list must be strong, not a filler to get enough items. Items can be lengthy or brief. With the right tweaks, the result can be a short-short story, a novel, or anything in between.

4. The ending should re-emphasize the story, such as a list of things in a suitcase that become more frightening and the final one is a killer. Or a list of reasons to get married, and the last one or two show that the marriage would be a disaster or unbridled joy. Or a list of imaginary holidays that become significantly specific or broad at the end.

If you need an idea for a story, here are a few:

• This is a story of love and possible betrayal about a woman who planned her husband’s funeral for years, each year with a different cause of death and a different ghost.

• This is an autobiographical story about a space traveler remembering the best and/or worst planets he/she/it had ever visited.

• This is a detective story in which the clues add up to solve the mystery of the missing moon.

— Sue Burke

My sister died yesterday

My sister, Elizabeth Rose Horton, died yesterday at age 53 of cancer.

She was five years younger than me, blonde, energetic and fun, smart and practical. She leaves behind a son with a personality a lot like hers but cranked a few notches higher, and a gentle and loving husband. Through hard work, Beth created a good life and a happy home in west Texas.

But she smoked, and last January she was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer, an especially aggressive kind. It seemed to be in remission when I saw her at Fourth of July, but it came back. I spent a few weeks with her in November and December to help her and her husband, and to get her to a Thanksgiving family reunion at my younger brother’s home.

Though we were far away in distance, we were close by telephone and internet. In person or by phone, we would talk — and laugh and laugh. Even at the end, when she was weak and often confused, she was still making jokes.

My little sister was the glue that kept people together, and now we must do it ourselves.

She was maid of honor at my wedding in 1992. This is a photo of us with my grandmother and mother. My mother died in 1994, my grandmother in 2001, and my sister in 2014.

— Sue Burke

What's a Spanish SF convention like?

Here’s my report on XXXI Hispacón/Quartumcón, Spain’s 2013 national SF convention, held in December. The report appears in the e-zine Concatenation, a British seasonal review of science fact and science fiction:

http://www.concatenation.org/conrev/hispacon2013.html

And here are the winners of the Ignotus Awards, which are the Spanish version of the Hugos:

http://www.concatenation.org/news/news1~14.html#ignotus

— Sue Burke

Award-eligible work recommendation

I’d like to suggest a few stories for consideration for Hugo, Nebula, or other awards for 2013. These aren’t stories I wrote. Instead they’re stories from an anthology I helped translate from Spanish into English, Terra Nova: An Anthology of Contemporary Spanish Science Fiction. It won Spain’s highest award, the Ignotus, for best anthology this year, and it faced some stiff competition. (Its cover art also won an Ignotus for best illustration.)



NOVELLAS:

“The Texture of Words,” by Felicidad Martínez. Women seek leadership despite being blind and dependent, while men fight constant wars. This story is set in the universe of the Akasa-Puspa saga, a landmark in Spanish science fiction.

“Greetings from a Zombie Nation,” by Eric J. Mota. The stagnant society of Cuba deliberately turns its citizens into the walking dead. Mota lives in Havana. Although all the stories in this anthology are strong, this is my favorite.

NOVELETTES:

“Deirdre,” by Lola Robles. Robotics creates made-to-order lovers, which may be what a shy woman needs.

“Bodies,” by Juanfran Jiménez. In a globalized and pseudo-democratic Europe, the rich practice sex tourism by means of mind exchange. Criminals can also use mind exchange as an escape route.

“Memory,” by Teresa P. Mira de Echeverría. Personal relationships and sex roles evolve in radical ways on Mars, which has been terraformed in spite of the Martians.

SHORT STORY:

“Light a Single Candle,” by Victor Conde. Social networks want too much and never let go, but they can be fought.

You can get Terra Nova here:

Smashwords, in a variety of electronic formats:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/328358

Amazon, in Kindle format:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00DJVMBHC

Amazon, in paperback:
http://www.amazon.com/dp/8494127489/

Sportula, the Spanish publisher:
http://www.sportularium.com/?p=2336

— Sue Burke

2013 Holiday Greetings

(In case you’re not on the Christmas card list for me and my husband Jerry, here's our Christmas newsletter.)

We traveled to the United States twice this year to spend time with family. First we celebrated Jerry's mother's 80th birthday in Milwaukee in June, and then Fourth of July at Sue's brother Lou's home in Houston. In November we crossed the Big Pond again to go to Houston for a Burke family Thanksgiving.

Jerry is still working for IBM and this year traveled to Finland, where he ate reindeer, which is why Santa's sleigh (and UPS) arrived a bit slower. He's still studying Portuguese and is reading a lot.

Sue is no longer teaching English to Spanish teenagers. She earned a Masters-level diploma in Spanish-to-English translation and is now working as a writer and translator. She has already been assigned a novel by a US publisher. In addition, she got her Spanish driver's license, which is a lot more difficult project than getting a US license and took months of study.

We ended the year with a trip in December to Valencia for Spain's science fiction convention (and took the photo of the Christmas display in the City Hall Square). We’re spending quiet year-end holidays here in Madrid.

Best wishes for 2014!

— Sue Burke and Jerry Finn

When Santa forgot

I was eleven years old when Santa forgot me. I got up on Christmas morning and rushed down to the tree to see what he had left.

Of course I knew that Santa didn’t exist – or rather, I knew that Mom and Dad were Santa. But since I had a little brother and sister, the magical Santa still came to our house.

I found only one box for me under the tree, which meant it would be especially good. Instead, it was just a hat and scarf set, and not a very good hat and scarf set, or even a color I liked. I felt disappointed and most of all bewildered. For the benefit of the little ones, I acted happy, but I wasn’t.

Soon my mother called me aside and apologized. In the confusion of the holiday, she and Dad had miscounted gifts and realized late the night before that they had nothing for me from Santa, so Dad ran out and got something quick. She hoped I understood, and I did, I really did. I imagined Dad going to the only place open on late Christmas Eve night, which in those days was probably a gas station, and given the limited merchandise, he had made a good choice.

And yet I had to hide tears. I wasn’t unhappy with my parents. I genuinely appreciated the effort. I wore the hat and scarf, and they were warm.

What hurt me was the proof of something I had already suspected but hadn’t wanted to believe: the world had no magic, no guarantees. It was full of human beings who made mistakes. An innocently botched Christmas gift was trifling, but devastating mistakes were possible, too. Given time – and an eleven-year-old has lots of time ahead of her – devastating mistakes would happen. I got my proof that Christmas morning.

Sometimes Santa simply forgets, a portent of calamities to come.

— Sue Burke

Also posted at my professional website:

Nada de nada

The winning number for Spain’s El Gordo Christmas Lottery this morning was 62246. My number was 75573.

In addition, of the more than 15,000 smaller prizes in the lottery, I won not a single euro.

Oh, well. At least I still have my health. That’s the traditional thing to say, and it’s true: health is priceless and cannot be won in a lottery. (But that might make in interesting premise for a science fiction story.)

Holiday celebrating is now underway. And here in Spain, we’ll keep celebrating until the Three Kings come on January 6. So if you’ll excuse me, I feel the need to go decorate something.

¡Felices fiestas!

— Sue Burke

My lucky number: 75573

Tomorrow morning, the Christmas season in Spain begins in earnest with the drawing for El Gordo, the Christmas lottery.

It will take about three hours to award the jackpot of €2.5, or US$3 billion, which is split into more than 15,000 prizes.

I bought my ticket at my newspaper kiosk. This year, numbers that end in 13 are considered lucky since the year is 2013. However, I graduated from high school in 1973, so that might be lucky, too.

Last year, I won €20, which is what the ticket cost. This year, maybe I’ll break even again. Or maybe I’ll win €400,000. I’ll let you know.

— Sue Burke

Holy Grail: Found

The Holy Grail is at the Cathedral of Valencia.

You may not have known that. Popes have confirmed that it is indeed a sacred relic – “a vestige of Christ’s presence on Earth,” according to John Paul II. You can learn the whole story here:
http://www.catedraldevalencia.es/en/el-santo-caliz.php

Last weekend I was in Valencia and saw the ancient agate cup for myself. (Sorry for the imperfect photo. No flash allowed, and the chapel is dimly lit.) The grail is in the niche behind the altar, protected by at least two layers of security glass.

As you may know, relics emit a kind of “mystic potency,” as Saint Gregory of Tours put it 1500 years ago, and being in the physical proximity of a relic benefits the soul. In this case, I have been near the chalice actually used by Jesus in the Last Supper.

So I am holier than thou.

— Sue Burke