Dostoyevsky

[Jimmy]

From B0nnie's review of Poor Folk:

It's interesting that at the time when Dostoyevsky was translating, it wasn't considered so important to exactly adhere to the original, as long as the main idea was gotten across. Now translators try for something closer.

Compare several translations of a sample paragraph from Poor Folk and decide for yourself how successful this is:

1. A gay little child was I—my one idea being ceaselessly to run about the fields and the woods and the garden. No one ever gave me a thought, for my father was always occupied with business affairs, and my mother with her housekeeping. Nor did anyone ever give me any lessons—a circumstance for which I was not sorry. At earliest dawn I would hie me to a pond or a copse, or to a hay or a harvest field, where the sun could warm me, and I could roam wherever I liked, and scratch my hands with bushes, and tear my clothes in pieces. For this I used to get blamed afterwards, but I did not care.
- C.J. Hogarth

2. I was ever such a playful little child; all I ever did was run around the fields, the woods and the orchard, and no one ever paid me the slightest attention. Father was constantly preoccupied with business matters, and my mother took care of the household; no one tried to give me any education, for which I was grateful. I can remember that from the earliest morning onwards I would be running off to the pond, or the wood, or the haymaking, or the reapers - and never mind that the sun was baking down, that I had wandered heaven only knows where away from the village, was covered in scratches from the bushes, and had torn my clothes - I would be given a scolding at home later on, but I did not care.
- David McDuff

3. I was a playful little thing; I used to do nothing but run about the fields, the copses and the gardens, and no one troubled about me. My father was constantly busy about his work, my mother looked after the house; no one taught me anything, for which I was very glad. Sometimes at daybreak I would run away either to the pond or to the copse or to the hayfield or to the reapers - and it did not matter that the sun was baking, that I was running, I did not know where , away from the village, that I was scratched by the bushes, that I tore my dress…. I should be scolded afterwards at home, but I did not care for that.
- Contance Garnett

4. I was a wild little girl who did nothing but scamper about in the woods, fields and pastures, and no one bothered me. Often I was up as dawn, running out to the fishpond or into the woods or far down the meadow to where the mowers were. I never minded the hot sun or going astray far beyond the houseds and buildings or that the bushes scratched me and tor my dress. When I finally came home, I got a scolding, but I didn't care.
- Geir Kjetsaa

The other translators of Poor Folk (also called Poor People) are Hugh Aplin, Lena Milman and David Magarshack. The free Hogarth translation is here and it's the same one as the Kindle edition (I used it for the quotations, but prefer the McDuff or Garnett).

Thanks B0nnie!

[Kendra]

Here are two translations of Notes from Underground.

I am a sick man... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased. However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. Besides, I am extremely superstitious, sufficiently so to respect medicine, anyway (I am well-educated enough not to be superstitious, but I am superstitious). No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand. Well, I understand it, though. Of course, I can't explain who it is precisely that I am mortifying in this case by my spite: I am perfectly well aware that I cannot "pay out" the doctors by not consulting them; I know better than anyone that by all this I am only injuring myself and no one else. But still, if I don't consult a doctor it is from spite. My liver is bad, well -- let it get worse!


I am a sick man... I am a wicked man. An unattractive man. I think my liver hurts. However, I don't know a fig about my sickness, and am not sure what it is that hurts me. I am not being treated and never have been, though I respect medicine and doctors. What's more, I am also superstitious in the extreme; well, at least enough to respect medicine. (I'm sufficiently educated not to be superstitious, but I am.) No, sir, I refuse to be treated out of wickedness. Now, you will certainly not be so good as to understand this. Well, sir, but I understand it. I will not, of course, be able to explain to you precisely who is going to suffer in this case from my wickedness; I know perfectly well that I will in no way "muck things up" for the doctors by not taking their treatment; I know better than anyone that by all this I am harming only myself and no one else. But still, if I don't get treated, it is out of wickedness. My liver hurts; well, then let it hurt even worse!


The first is Garnett and the second P&V. I am always told P&V is best... and yet I much prefer Garnett here. Any opinions most welcome.

[Bryn]

I greatly prefer the Constance Garnett too, in your Notes examples. --Unless it's what I've lived with, 'spite' seems the right Dostoyevskian word to me.

I've had luck with David McDuff, for the novels. I definitely like his Karamazov over the P&V. With The Idiot I wasn't so clear which.

[Kendra]

Bryn wrote: "I greatly prefer the Constance Garnett too, in your Notes examples. --Unless it's what I've lived with, 'spite' seems the right Dostoyevskian word to me.

I've had luck with David McDuff, for the ..."
Indeed. The use of "wickedness" didn't fit the tone I had in mind at all, so every time I encounter it I'm a bit jarred. Disease seems more fitting over "hurt" as well.

I was going to buy a nice hardcover of the P&V but I think I'll just buy a cheap Dover copy of the Garnett now.

[Scott]

Input please on various translations of "The Idiot"

[Bryn]

I've tried three. Met it in the 1st Penguin translation, David Magarshack, whom I can't recommend, and Penguin have new translations.

Last year I read The Idiot in both the Pevear and Volokhonsky and the later Penguin, David McDuff. Or rather, I'd read half in the McDuff and switched to P&V in the second. NOT because I didn't like the McDuff. It was a stupid way to see which I thought most of, and I mean in future to read both whole.

I was happy with both of these. That's the truth, and why I still need to read them both whole to sort out the distinctions. Perhaps I felt a preference for the McDuff, but that might be either that I began with it (and saw an enormous difference from my early knowledge of the book--it was way way better than the Magarshack I had known) or because it has a better cover. Seriously, I was wowed by the McDuff, which gave voices and idiosyncracies of speech, Dostoyevsky's famous individuality. But when I switched to P&V, I wasn't aware of a let down.

At the end of this ramble: maybe McDuff for me.

[Scott]

A ramble it may be, but it's a very good ramble! Thanx

[Bryn]

Cheers for that!

[Limey]

.


I remember, when learning Russian and at the time reading the Master & Margarita very slowly and thoroughly and therefore remembering the first few pages very well, when killing time waiting for a bus I looked at the first page of 2 different translations in a bookshop.

I guess the lesson I took from it was a kind of "what do you actually 'see'?" when reading a text and to ask the question of how closely, kind of 'neatly', maybe 'sharply', and also perhaps with a similar chain of one image or concept to the next, i.e. the progression of it, the translation conveys the same.

I guess that sounds obvious, but I was struck by how one version clearly came closer than the other. Also I was struck by how there is a fact of how a foreign language will naturally convey the feel of the text in a different way to perhaps how the target language in translation would do so itself in 'normal use', and how nevertheless it seems nice, valid, maybe even necessary, to try and bring some of that over, despite temptations to use what might sound a little more usual in the target language.

Some translators seem to go very much for the most native-sounding result they can find, or perhaps the most 'economical', and this relates to the kind of sentence structure they create as well as words and phrases chosen, and then something of that vibe of the original disappears, which I remember I felt with both of those translations.

And, as to my first point, some seem to have not done enough of getting 'beyond' or 'deeper than' the words to what they are pointing at in meaning, and then little things are missed out, some small images or juxtapositions of ideas are missed or trimmed or some things are put in a slightly different light. Of course there's also the danger of getting 'beyond the words' into just the meaning and mood and changing things on the smaller scale to evoke what the translator feels in the bigger context. But then this fails too. At the level of discrete words and on larger and larger scales all of it needs to be kept as 'tight' as possible.

This reminds me of a comparison Milan Kundera did of translations of The Castle by Franz Kafka and the need to stay very faithful to the original author's language (I'll have to dig that out and read it again; I did in fact make myself translate the text he chose first to see how then I compared with the translations he critiqued).

Anyway, I would probably do little things a little differently to any translator here, but to me, having found the relevant passage in the original Russian text of Poor Folk and having read it a few times and then having compared it to the 4 translations above, the David McDuff version is a clear winner to me, the Constance Garnett one not too far behind in second place. I can maybe see reasoning in the last translation, but it doesn't follow the principle of keeping it as precise as possible also at the word level, seeming to look more to the bigger context and looking to flow nicely and economically to convey that, and all sorts of things are missing (and I'm not referring to the chunk of it the translator missed out, which maybe has been put afterwards or something; though maybe this is an abridged version, which could affect the translation too, beyond just cutting bits, and in that context maybe would be a good translation).

The Hogarth one has too much of what seems an attempt at stylising in English, and therefore again has nuances and colour deviating from the original. Of course, if we decide what translations are best, then we're setting ourselves up as the best translators ourselves, and there's always a point of view, but that's my view at least. I'll have to look at the Notes from the Underground translations later.

[Jimmy]

See also: https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...

[Kamakana]

The original is not faithful to the translation- Jorge Luis Borges. My problem is that I can only read English, so I am glad there are translations, but also, is there not some enlarged 'thought-space' because of the necessary ambiguity of any translation? that is, as is the case for original language but more apparent, is not each reading each time each reader, translation into your personal language?

[Jimmy]

I'm not sure I follow. Your last sentence doesn't make sense to me. But otherwise, yes, I do agree about the enlarged thought-space.

[Kamakana]

Just a suggestion that each author develops an individual 'style', an original 'language', however parallel to the reader, so translation is not diminishing content for each reader, each time they read, but rather expanding the freedom of each thought because the words and sentences etc. can only be gestures or thoughts towards if not literal translations. then again, I have only read one translation of 'Underground Man', not several, but your quotes above do suggest varied texts... so what is a 'best' translation?

[Jimmy]

Simple. The best translation is the one you like to read the most!

[[deleted user]]

It's certainly true that reading in a translation means you are reading an individual reader's experience of, and response to, the source (or "original", if you prefer) text. There is no way around this: language is never neutral, and each word and sequence of words expresses more than content. (Translating a recipe or instructions for using a washing machine as as close as we come to "neutral", content-only texts.)

I have yet to read the recent translations of Proust, but will continue to enjoy the Moncrief/Kilmartin translation because of its beauty even after I have.

To what do we assume translators are being "faithful", after all? Register? Rhythm? Sentence order? The intention of the author (- can even the author know what her intentions are when writing a literary text?) Reproduction of a historic moment in the second language?… Personally, my aim when translating is to show a faith in literature, its power to move us, its enriching nature when executed well, its general value - while of course not inventing a completely "new" story.

Anyone who can read Spanish and English might have serious questions to ask Natasha Wimmer about her translation of Laura Restrepo's "Delirio" into English; but I respect her right to respond to the novel according to what she considered its significance to her. I'd also like to see - perhaps make, one day - other translations of it.