alexpgp | (no subject)

My column from the Winter 2003 issue of The SlavFile (the quarterly of the ATA's Slavic Languages Division):

An incident from my engineering days made a very deep impression on me. It was the day after the 1984 Academy Awards and Milos Forman's film Amadeus had walked away with the Oscars for Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Actor. Exchanging morning pleasantries with my boss, I jokingly noted that there was still hope for the cultural redemption of the country.

"What do you mean?" asked my boss.

"Well, if a film about Mozart can win an Oscar, then anything is possible," I said, light-heartedly.

"Who?" asked my boss.

When it became clear that neither the name "Mozart" nor the film title Amadeus meant anything to him, I was thunderstruck, to say the least. In my world view, being out of touch with what was popular at the box office was forgivable, but it was inconceibable that one could be so narrowly focused in one's life as to not have picked up the name "Mozart" from somewhere - if only by a kind of social osmosis - and placed it in the general context of classical music (even if one never listened to the stuff).

Having a narrow focus is not a malady unique to techies, but many techies suffer from it (indeed, some even boast of it). For as long as I can remember, though, despite a natural technical inclination, I've striven to develop my "weak side." By this I mean I've worked at learning something about the nontechnical world: languages (of course), art, literature, and so on.

Not too surprisingly, this "broadening" has paid benefits to me in the interpretation and translation end of the world. (I have no doubt that some technical "rounding" would benefit many non-technical translators.)

For some time, however, I'd noticed that the "Russian" side of my life lagged behind, from both a cultural point of view (a common shortcoming among Americans, it is said) and that of non-technical vocabulary. So, early last year, I decided to do something to remedy this defect.

The first fruit of that effort was the translation of the lyrics to the song Ваше благородие from Vladimir Motyl's popular Russian film Белое солнце пустыни [White Sun of the Desert]. Those of you who attended this year's Literary Cafe at the ATA Conference in Atlanta heard me read it out loud.

An interesting piece of lore about the film is that it is an obligatory part of a cosmonaut's ritual on the eve of a trip into space. (I seem to recall someone telling me that this tradition dated back to Gagarin's flight, but as the film was shot in 1970, I have my doubts. Nonetheless, somewhere along the lines, it did become a tradition.)

When I had an opportunity to watch the film, I was struck by the melody of Ваше благородие. Unfortunately, between my deficient non-technical Russian vocabulary and my poor skills at deciphering sung lyrics in any language, the only words I could make out were those of the refrain in the last line: Не везет мне в смерти, повезет в любви! [I've no luck at dying; I'll fall in love instead!] The line intrigued me, so I resolved to get hold of the lyrics and translate them

I'll not bore you with the details of the consultations, false starts, and dead ends involved in attempting to fashion a workmanlike translation that I felt was true to the original. What I will tell you is that the experience of working outside of what you normally do makes you, in my opinion, a stronger translator.

Try it yourself. Develop your weak side. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised.

The initial discussion of the translation of the lyrics occurred over a couple of days in my LJ early last year.

Cheers...

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

...An interesting piece of lore about the film is that it is an obligatory part of a cosmonaut's ritual on the eve of a trip into space...

And is it [still?] true that Russian couples about to be married make a stop en route to their nuptials, to lay a wreath on the nearest grave of an/the Unknown Soldier?

I always kinda liked that. Is it just a myth they told us over on the other side of the Iron Curtain, part of the mystique of ideology in one's personal life?

(Which of course fundamentally appealed to me, though it took me till age 30 to act upon it and up and emigrate to a more ideological place & way of life - though community-communalistic, not state-communist.)

It was true back in the mid-70s at least. Whenever I saw that, it would bring a tear to my eye.

I'm told it's not done any more. A pity. The present should acknowledge the sacrifices of the past.

Cheers...

Thanks for topping me up on this one,

alexpgp.

If most people got taught history the way I did, I suspect that might be part of the general massive disinterest in the subject, besides the usual suspects (i.e. present being more immediate & future being presumably 'way more interesting).

Stats would indicate that relatively few people find themselves (let alone seek out) living in places where history is being made and/or (re)lived. I had some idea of what I was getting into when I relocated to a troubled little country, and it's opened my eyes beyond my wildest dreams.

The mid-70s was when I made my first visit to Israel and lost my heart (and head, en suite?) to a place where people still participated...though by now, rampant Americanization is turning this into a nation of consumers. And I'm afraid the still-high turnout at memorial events is based more on rampant nationalism than on regard for the heroes of the past.

...What I will tell you is that the experience of working outside of what you normally do makes you, in my opinion, a stronger translator.

Try it yourself. Develop your weak side. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised...

Though relative to yourself I'm a fairly inexperienced translator, I'm not sure whether the point here might not be very much affected by which field is your regular [= normal] one and which is "outside" -- that, and perhaps the distance between the common and uncommon (if, say, technical-to-lyrical?)

I regularly translate historical, documentary, sometimes academic material (the latter in Arts & Letters). I can go two ways outside: technical (at which I suck) or literary.

I love the storytelling aspect of my regular material. For inspiration and guidance, I read other translators, other translations - and of course, straight source-language material, more often nonfiction than fiction of any genre.

On the other hand, trying a stretch in the literary - particularly lyrical, i.e. poetry - realm, is usually a woeful exercise in frustration and sheer inadequacy. Besides, I secretly suspect my main strength is as an editor {boo, hiss!}. I am a factor of more craft than art. I lack the spark; am just glad I'm very good at a few aspects of the game.

So, I admire your efforts and envy your satisfaction, while I decline your suggestion. I'd rather go study some linguistics or learn another language.

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The present should first show some interest in the past

YMMV, I would think!