“Aujourdhui, maman est morte.”
This is the opening line of L’Étranger by Albert Camus. It translates directly to, “Today, Mom died.” This simple sentence has sparked decades of debate, with many arguing that the nuance and emotion of the French sentence is lost in its English counterpart. But why does something so seemingly straightforward become so fraught in translation?
On March 14, Argentinian author Claudia Piñeiro held a press event at Topping & Company Bookshop for her upcoming book, Time of the Flies. As a supporter of Charco Press- an Edinburgh-based publishing house specialising in Latin-American literature in translation- the event was right up my alley. I came out of the event, however, wondering: How much meaning is lost in translation? And when we are reading a translated work, are we really interpreting the book the way that the author intended?
The panel was held in both English and Spanish, with Colombian-American moderator, Sofía Martínez Álvarez, asking questions first in English and then translating for Piñeiro, who answered in Spanish. Interestingly, throughout the panel, several audience members challenged the moderator’s translations, offering their own versions. This highlighted a key tension: language isn’t static. Dialectical differences exist between countries and even between counties, or rather, departamentos. While researching for this blog, I found that even the Spanish word for “county” varies between Argentina, Colombia and Chile.
Translation becomes even trickier with idioms. How can we entrust someone to accurately translate what we’ve written, when some phrases, if literally translated, mean nothing? For instance, the Spanish saying, “lo que se hereda no se hurta” literally means “what is inherited is not stolen,” but its metaphorical meaning is closer to “the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” I came across this phrase when reading Piñeiro’s Elena Knows and I felt confused until I researched its meaning.
At the event, Piñeiro discussed a few different challenges she has encountered.
“Do you think that there’s a connection to Latin American culture that can sometimes be lost in translation?” the moderator asked.
She explained that colloquial phrases often lose their impact. One such instance for Piñeiro was: “You’re not going to charge on a debt, not even until the day of the goalie” which of course, means nothing. The translator on this project confessed to Piñeiro, “I’ve asked everyone in the publishing house to help me with this translation and no one can. As far as I know, goalies are paid very well, so why wouldn’t they be able to cover their debt?”
Moments like these make Piñeiro nervous. She must trust the translators to find a culturally equivalent phrases, knowing it’s nearly impossible to preserve all meaning. It’s in these moments that pieces of culture are inevitably lost
Piñeiro was asked: “How involved are you in the process of translation? Is it the same for every book?”
It varies, she explained. Some translators are very involved and ask a lot of questions, while others are hands-off. With her works translated into thirty-three languages, most of which she doesn’t speak, she must place full trust in the translators. Sometimes a single translator will ask one very specific question, and she wonders “Oh God, why haven’t the other translators asked me this question? Will this change everything?”
Translation is ultimately an act of faith. It is a valiant attempt at bridging cultures, but as readers, we must acknowledge that some aspects of the story will always be lost in translation.
MSc Publishing – Industry Accredited Postgraduate Degree 