Friendly former Russian Studies major (some decades ago) and diplomat with three years at the US Embassy in Moscow here. I'm no Boris Dralyuk, but can speak to the difference for me personally between reading Russian stories in the original and reading them in translation.
First: One can absolutely both enjoy and learn things about writin…
Friendly former Russian Studies major (some decades ago) and diplomat with three years at the US Embassy in Moscow here. I'm no Boris Dralyuk, but can speak to the difference for me personally between reading Russian stories in the original and reading them in translation.
First: One can absolutely both enjoy and learn things about writing, human nature, Russia, and Russian culture from reading any decently translated Russian story. Any solid translation will give you the significant aspects of the story that tap into our common humanity, and insight into how good short stories in the Western tradition work.
From my perspective, here are three of the things that can be (but perhaps are not always) lost when reading any translation from Russian to English.
The first, as George mentions, is some degree of tone—the writer's attitude both toward the subject, and toward the story's theoretical audience. Chekhov was not writing for you and me: we bring our own baggage to our reading, and whatever our baggage might be, it is not that of the Russian intelligentsia of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. I think he might be amazed at our discussions of his work, his stories' staying power, and the reverence we have for so much of his work. Tone is present in the language of the story, both in syntax and word choice. Because Russian doesn't work the way English works, and because many Russian words aren't one-for-one cognates with English words, some of the tone slips away, (Further to this: it's correct that Chekhov and Tolstoy are written more simply than Dostoyevsky, Gogol', and especially contemporary Russian writers; less tone is lost.)
Second is nuance. English has about 171,500 words, give or take a few hundred. Standard Russian has about 150,000. An educated person has a working vocabulary of maybe 10,000, give or take a couple of thousand. Pushkin used about 21,000 in his writing! A single Russian word might have multiple possible translations in English: there's not always a one-for-one correlation. Sometimes a single Russian word is like a large vessel holding several possible meanings that engage with each other, and that's part of the pleasure of reading it well. But the translator has to choose a replacement word in English, and in choosing exercises both personal preference for a particular English word and personal understanding of the context in which the word is found. To my mind, when the English is more precise than the Russian, the text is somehow flattened. Non-native speakers of Russian also miss some of this sense of nuance, even when reading a story in the original.
And third, for me, are the aspects of language that enhance the story being told: syntax, word construction and word choice, the rhythms of the words themselves, and (related to nuance, above) their linguistic and cultural connotations. Russian has a base of about 40,000 root words [trauma flashback here to stacks and stacks of 3X5 index cards!] , and they're used at different frequencies than root words making up English. Russian often also borrows words from different languages than English does. I think I'd rather beat myself to death with a dull rock than try to reproduce the magic of Pushkin's or Akhmatova's poetry in English. It could lead me only to despair! Those aspects of language may not be critical to the reader of a short story who's dissecting it in the way George does in A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, but a poet or someone who has a love affair with the music of language will not have the same experience reading a Russian story in translation as in the original.
So: To me, the translation does matter; but I also come at it as a non-native speaker with a moderate "working proficiency" in Russian, and know that I don't bring any particular expertise to the experience of reading a Russian story in the original—my undergrad GPA is proof that I...didn't have any special insight into Russian literature! ;)
Thanks Jerri. Your personal insight here is priceless. I like that you mentioned Tone and Context. There is so much in play beyond the words. As I mentioned in a different reply to Mary, consider the phrase most of us heard growing up: “it’s not what you say but how you say it.” Your comment also made me think about Zoom. Look at how much tone and context fell away from our communication with each other as people were reduced to boxes on a screen. People we already knew. A language we already knew. And yet….breakdown of connection and confusion about the tone of a message. Really, really interesting….
Yes, Zoom. Communicating that way is hard on the brain, so much is lost–– thankfully I don't have to do it often, but my friends that do Zoom for work worry a bit about how things look, how they look, the lighting, how the background looks. I'm not sure the human brain should be "split" that way, at least not when thinking through issues or talking about concepts. Also there's a strange thing that happens when you worry you'll interrupt someone.
Interesting. I'm an (exclusively) online English language tutor, and I actually feel quite the opposite, for tuition. I certainly agree that something is lost, but for some purposes, that's a good thing. Online, here in central Europe, students and myself drop pretenses very quickly, and focus on the language much more readily. In a face-to-face lesson, I find, students are much more prone to consider how they look (not for me; for each other), their manner, the smell of their breath (!) etc. Sat at home, they're more comfortable and grounded. Granted, this is probably not the kind of work you're referencing, but thought I'd throw it in as an interesting counter.
It's funny, I'm thrilled with my Zoom yoga class, which used to be in person, for all the things you list. I've known the teacher and other students for 25 years now, so we're all comfortable. I can imagine that a one on one Zoom or Facetime is easier than a large group, (say more than five people) for an English language class.
Yes there’s a strange thing that happens with serial conversation vs interactive. In person there are so many more cues, which allow us more moves. An eyebrow can say it all. On the computer screen we wait, and perhaps choose more carefully, and yet communicate more poorly. I think there’s something in there that relates to translation. On a related note, I read something in a Morgan Freeman interview about Seven. Apparently he read a passage in the script then told the director something like this, “I can do all this with a look. The words are overkill.”
Thank you, Jerri! This is great information--also, a bit....depressing? There's already so much breakdown in communication between humans who speak the same language! But to think how much nuance goes out the window when we read a translation... And you bring up yet another great point--that non-native speakers also miss out on some of a work's meaning. When I read any of the Russians that we discuss here in SC, I always think of the writer at his desk (so far we've read only males), carefully choosing his words, structure, rhythm--all of which adds to a story's meaning, its unity. And then so much of it is lost in translation! We are left with a strange version--and i sometimes wonder if our analysis is therefore off-base and/or lacking in depth.
All of this makes so much sense - especially the difference between translating poetry versus prose. As someone raised with 2-3 other languages in addition to English, I've found prose translations to be adequate even if losing some of the tone, but poetry has felt dead to read in English after having read the original - poets spend so much time agonizing over their choice of words and when there are no easy one-to-one correlates, it definitely has a big impact. Perhaps reading a few different translations helps triangulate what the original was trying to say?
Hard for me to judge because I can read just a little French in the original, but reading Neruda and even some Russian poets in English, I find myself moved and astonished over and over.
Agreed, Cynthia - I've read translations of poems translated from other languages that I don't know and really enjoyed the poems. I guess what I meant to say is that till I read the translations of poems from a language that I know did I see how hard it is to translate the beauty in poetry. Am advocating for more translations I suppose to be able to see what each translator/translation brings to the original - especially with poetry.
Thank you! The difference between translated prose and translated poetry is something I have thought about a lot. In a way, it's hard for me to imagine any poetry is truly translatable.
I think that's probably true, though I also think all translation exists in some liminal space, and within such spaces, creativity (on the part of the translator and the reader) thrives. In a way, poetry also occupies that space. A poem reaches to capture/hold a moment, the world, but never quite arrives. It's a collaboration between writer, reader and the page. Which is so great!
Thanks, Jerri. This is a small point, but I'm wondering what we are to make of Dmitry's wife's omission of the "hard sign" at the end of words in her letters and her calling him Dimitry rather than Dmitry.
My guess (and it is only a guess based on some tangential knowledge of Russian culture) is that this is supposed to indicate a "progressive" woman for the times, one who is not a keeper of the domestic hearth and the good old ways,not necessarily an intellectual, but one who pulls away from the old-fashioned, masculine world that her husband prefers, and is desexed in his eyes, which is why he would prefer someone elegant, feminine, younger.
Thank you. That certainly seems plausible given the context. Those quirks would undoubtedly have signified something about her to Chekov's contemporaries, but we can only guess. Regardless of what may be lost to us, the story remains a particular favorite of mine.
"Jeez Jerri, thank you so much. And I have a question, if I may? It's this: Chekhov, dear Anton, was writing not speaking 'The Lady with the Dog'. Would his diction have closely resembled his written prose or could it, perhaps, have rendered the same story somewhat differently?"
Rob, if there's a recording of Chekhov speaking somewhere I'm not aware of it (though the technology certainly existed—I've seen video of an elderly Tolstoy on his estate). Probably the closest one can come would be to read his private letters, which I'm sure are collected somewhere! In the meantime, you might enjoy this lovely little essay on Chekhov the man, written by Boris Fishman for LitHub: https://lithub.com/everything-you-think-you-know-about-chekhov-is-wrong/
What an essay; what a timely signposting; what a confidence building piece.
Starting with the last, I've found myself realising and relishing the earthiness that I've discovered in reading Chekov's 'The Lady with the Dog' this time around. I've written comment, frankly, with raw Anglo-Saxon word choices foreground and find that, no shock jock, I'm on the money: Anton was what is commonly described as 'a ladies man', who may even, who knows been in the mind of Leornard Cohen as a he strung the words together that made the lyrics of some of his greatest songs and perhaps even shaped his album 'Death of a Ladies Man'. Gurov, and indeed the Yalta Summer Crowd, strike me as necrotic characters.
Timely? Because it is a beautiful gateway into advancing comprehension of the icon that is 'Chekhov'. The man is much more than the terrifying, all-time classic of Russian and World Literature that is 'Chekov'. Couldn'a ha' come to me - and other Story Clubbers happening to pass a reading eye this way - at a better time (having started to make acquaintance with George while swimming around that pond in the rain trying to keep my copy of 'In the Cart' dry and now doing work with him on 'The Lady and the Dog')
Essay? The most exemplary example of the form I've read in some time, and I've only read it once, on the fly from reading your signpost, so have much to mine from revisiting it.
And just to say, that underlying my reason for asking about comparisons between Russian as written and Russian as spoken are memories of being in Moscow @ 1991/1992 and being fascinated by the skills of Russian colleagues in translating words I and others spoke in what they sometimes referred to as 'compressed mode'.
So pleased to have made, passing, acquaintance with you Jerri via this thread.
This a helpful Jerri, thank you. I have always been curious to know if there might be a difference between translations where one or other language is dominant - therefore his sentence is fascinating - when the English is more precise than the Russian, the text is somehow flattened. It makes me wonder if we need 3D glasses (so to speak) to read the Chekhov stories, that there's another level of richness we can't appreciate in English (no matter how subjectively good the translation is). I spend a bit too much time obsessing over language choice - so it's also a relief to be reminded by George that we can still look at the meaning of the story through the experience of it.
What a beautiful and helpful comment!! Thank you so much for breaking this down. I relate very much to the feeling of English specificity "flattening" certain things -- I feel the same way with some French translations.
Friendly former Russian Studies major (some decades ago) and diplomat with three years at the US Embassy in Moscow here. I'm no Boris Dralyuk, but can speak to the difference for me personally between reading Russian stories in the original and reading them in translation.
First: One can absolutely both enjoy and learn things about writing, human nature, Russia, and Russian culture from reading any decently translated Russian story. Any solid translation will give you the significant aspects of the story that tap into our common humanity, and insight into how good short stories in the Western tradition work.
From my perspective, here are three of the things that can be (but perhaps are not always) lost when reading any translation from Russian to English.
The first, as George mentions, is some degree of tone—the writer's attitude both toward the subject, and toward the story's theoretical audience. Chekhov was not writing for you and me: we bring our own baggage to our reading, and whatever our baggage might be, it is not that of the Russian intelligentsia of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. I think he might be amazed at our discussions of his work, his stories' staying power, and the reverence we have for so much of his work. Tone is present in the language of the story, both in syntax and word choice. Because Russian doesn't work the way English works, and because many Russian words aren't one-for-one cognates with English words, some of the tone slips away, (Further to this: it's correct that Chekhov and Tolstoy are written more simply than Dostoyevsky, Gogol', and especially contemporary Russian writers; less tone is lost.)
Second is nuance. English has about 171,500 words, give or take a few hundred. Standard Russian has about 150,000. An educated person has a working vocabulary of maybe 10,000, give or take a couple of thousand. Pushkin used about 21,000 in his writing! A single Russian word might have multiple possible translations in English: there's not always a one-for-one correlation. Sometimes a single Russian word is like a large vessel holding several possible meanings that engage with each other, and that's part of the pleasure of reading it well. But the translator has to choose a replacement word in English, and in choosing exercises both personal preference for a particular English word and personal understanding of the context in which the word is found. To my mind, when the English is more precise than the Russian, the text is somehow flattened. Non-native speakers of Russian also miss some of this sense of nuance, even when reading a story in the original.
And third, for me, are the aspects of language that enhance the story being told: syntax, word construction and word choice, the rhythms of the words themselves, and (related to nuance, above) their linguistic and cultural connotations. Russian has a base of about 40,000 root words [trauma flashback here to stacks and stacks of 3X5 index cards!] , and they're used at different frequencies than root words making up English. Russian often also borrows words from different languages than English does. I think I'd rather beat myself to death with a dull rock than try to reproduce the magic of Pushkin's or Akhmatova's poetry in English. It could lead me only to despair! Those aspects of language may not be critical to the reader of a short story who's dissecting it in the way George does in A Swim in a Pond in the Rain, but a poet or someone who has a love affair with the music of language will not have the same experience reading a Russian story in translation as in the original.
So: To me, the translation does matter; but I also come at it as a non-native speaker with a moderate "working proficiency" in Russian, and know that I don't bring any particular expertise to the experience of reading a Russian story in the original—my undergrad GPA is proof that I...didn't have any special insight into Russian literature! ;)
Hope that's helpful.
Incredibly helpful & interesting, Jerri - thanks so much for this.
Thanks Jerri. Your personal insight here is priceless. I like that you mentioned Tone and Context. There is so much in play beyond the words. As I mentioned in a different reply to Mary, consider the phrase most of us heard growing up: “it’s not what you say but how you say it.” Your comment also made me think about Zoom. Look at how much tone and context fell away from our communication with each other as people were reduced to boxes on a screen. People we already knew. A language we already knew. And yet….breakdown of connection and confusion about the tone of a message. Really, really interesting….
Yes, Zoom. Communicating that way is hard on the brain, so much is lost–– thankfully I don't have to do it often, but my friends that do Zoom for work worry a bit about how things look, how they look, the lighting, how the background looks. I'm not sure the human brain should be "split" that way, at least not when thinking through issues or talking about concepts. Also there's a strange thing that happens when you worry you'll interrupt someone.
Interesting. I'm an (exclusively) online English language tutor, and I actually feel quite the opposite, for tuition. I certainly agree that something is lost, but for some purposes, that's a good thing. Online, here in central Europe, students and myself drop pretenses very quickly, and focus on the language much more readily. In a face-to-face lesson, I find, students are much more prone to consider how they look (not for me; for each other), their manner, the smell of their breath (!) etc. Sat at home, they're more comfortable and grounded. Granted, this is probably not the kind of work you're referencing, but thought I'd throw it in as an interesting counter.
It's funny, I'm thrilled with my Zoom yoga class, which used to be in person, for all the things you list. I've known the teacher and other students for 25 years now, so we're all comfortable. I can imagine that a one on one Zoom or Facetime is easier than a large group, (say more than five people) for an English language class.
Should note that I'm only advocating for the efficacy of online communication in this single context, however =)
Yes there’s a strange thing that happens with serial conversation vs interactive. In person there are so many more cues, which allow us more moves. An eyebrow can say it all. On the computer screen we wait, and perhaps choose more carefully, and yet communicate more poorly. I think there’s something in there that relates to translation. On a related note, I read something in a Morgan Freeman interview about Seven. Apparently he read a passage in the script then told the director something like this, “I can do all this with a look. The words are overkill.”
It's the cues, yes. The whole body might lean forward when speaking or about to say something. The little box on Zoom doesn't allow for that.
Actors can make a script sing! Love the story about Denzel Washington.
Oops. The actor was Morgan Freeman. My mistake...I just edited my comment to correct this.
Thank you, Jerri! This is great information--also, a bit....depressing? There's already so much breakdown in communication between humans who speak the same language! But to think how much nuance goes out the window when we read a translation... And you bring up yet another great point--that non-native speakers also miss out on some of a work's meaning. When I read any of the Russians that we discuss here in SC, I always think of the writer at his desk (so far we've read only males), carefully choosing his words, structure, rhythm--all of which adds to a story's meaning, its unity. And then so much of it is lost in translation! We are left with a strange version--and i sometimes wonder if our analysis is therefore off-base and/or lacking in depth.
All of this makes so much sense - especially the difference between translating poetry versus prose. As someone raised with 2-3 other languages in addition to English, I've found prose translations to be adequate even if losing some of the tone, but poetry has felt dead to read in English after having read the original - poets spend so much time agonizing over their choice of words and when there are no easy one-to-one correlates, it definitely has a big impact. Perhaps reading a few different translations helps triangulate what the original was trying to say?
Hard for me to judge because I can read just a little French in the original, but reading Neruda and even some Russian poets in English, I find myself moved and astonished over and over.
Agreed, Cynthia - I've read translations of poems translated from other languages that I don't know and really enjoyed the poems. I guess what I meant to say is that till I read the translations of poems from a language that I know did I see how hard it is to translate the beauty in poetry. Am advocating for more translations I suppose to be able to see what each translator/translation brings to the original - especially with poetry.
Thank you! The difference between translated prose and translated poetry is something I have thought about a lot. In a way, it's hard for me to imagine any poetry is truly translatable.
Sara,
I think that's probably true, though I also think all translation exists in some liminal space, and within such spaces, creativity (on the part of the translator and the reader) thrives. In a way, poetry also occupies that space. A poem reaches to capture/hold a moment, the world, but never quite arrives. It's a collaboration between writer, reader and the page. Which is so great!
Thanks, Jerri. This is a small point, but I'm wondering what we are to make of Dmitry's wife's omission of the "hard sign" at the end of words in her letters and her calling him Dimitry rather than Dmitry.
My guess (and it is only a guess based on some tangential knowledge of Russian culture) is that this is supposed to indicate a "progressive" woman for the times, one who is not a keeper of the domestic hearth and the good old ways,not necessarily an intellectual, but one who pulls away from the old-fashioned, masculine world that her husband prefers, and is desexed in his eyes, which is why he would prefer someone elegant, feminine, younger.
Thank you. That certainly seems plausible given the context. Those quirks would undoubtedly have signified something about her to Chekov's contemporaries, but we can only guess. Regardless of what may be lost to us, the story remains a particular favorite of mine.
Your comment is super interesting and helpful - thanks!
"Jeez Jerri, thank you so much. And I have a question, if I may? It's this: Chekhov, dear Anton, was writing not speaking 'The Lady with the Dog'. Would his diction have closely resembled his written prose or could it, perhaps, have rendered the same story somewhat differently?"
Rob, if there's a recording of Chekhov speaking somewhere I'm not aware of it (though the technology certainly existed—I've seen video of an elderly Tolstoy on his estate). Probably the closest one can come would be to read his private letters, which I'm sure are collected somewhere! In the meantime, you might enjoy this lovely little essay on Chekhov the man, written by Boris Fishman for LitHub: https://lithub.com/everything-you-think-you-know-about-chekhov-is-wrong/
Thak you so very much for signposting me to https://lithub.com/everything-you-think-you-know-about-chekhov-is-wrong/ .
What an essay; what a timely signposting; what a confidence building piece.
Starting with the last, I've found myself realising and relishing the earthiness that I've discovered in reading Chekov's 'The Lady with the Dog' this time around. I've written comment, frankly, with raw Anglo-Saxon word choices foreground and find that, no shock jock, I'm on the money: Anton was what is commonly described as 'a ladies man', who may even, who knows been in the mind of Leornard Cohen as a he strung the words together that made the lyrics of some of his greatest songs and perhaps even shaped his album 'Death of a Ladies Man'. Gurov, and indeed the Yalta Summer Crowd, strike me as necrotic characters.
Timely? Because it is a beautiful gateway into advancing comprehension of the icon that is 'Chekhov'. The man is much more than the terrifying, all-time classic of Russian and World Literature that is 'Chekov'. Couldn'a ha' come to me - and other Story Clubbers happening to pass a reading eye this way - at a better time (having started to make acquaintance with George while swimming around that pond in the rain trying to keep my copy of 'In the Cart' dry and now doing work with him on 'The Lady and the Dog')
Essay? The most exemplary example of the form I've read in some time, and I've only read it once, on the fly from reading your signpost, so have much to mine from revisiting it.
And just to say, that underlying my reason for asking about comparisons between Russian as written and Russian as spoken are memories of being in Moscow @ 1991/1992 and being fascinated by the skills of Russian colleagues in translating words I and others spoke in what they sometimes referred to as 'compressed mode'.
So pleased to have made, passing, acquaintance with you Jerri via this thread.
This a helpful Jerri, thank you. I have always been curious to know if there might be a difference between translations where one or other language is dominant - therefore his sentence is fascinating - when the English is more precise than the Russian, the text is somehow flattened. It makes me wonder if we need 3D glasses (so to speak) to read the Chekhov stories, that there's another level of richness we can't appreciate in English (no matter how subjectively good the translation is). I spend a bit too much time obsessing over language choice - so it's also a relief to be reminded by George that we can still look at the meaning of the story through the experience of it.
What a beautiful and helpful comment!! Thank you so much for breaking this down. I relate very much to the feeling of English specificity "flattening" certain things -- I feel the same way with some French translations.
Jealous of your Russian knowledge!
wonderful to have this insight, thank you!
The music of your words^^