Gail Armstrong, of Open Brackets, explains why "a collection of the correspondence between authors and their translators would make for a fine and fascinating book":
Collaboration (if any) is generally in writing in the author’s native tongue and, although proud to be read by foreigners, many a writer remains wary of the translator’s abilities to transport him unscathed over seas. Not always without reason.Posted by nchicha at April 17, 2004 04:42 PMAnd so a full spectrum of relationships ensues: from openly hostile to be always mine love, by way of reluctant professionalism, obsequious gratitude, and a two-way longstanding mentor-student tug.
On the openly hostile front we have many notorious tales – including those of Nabokov, his Vera and their crisp new Swedish dictionary, scouring the translation of Pnin word by word, then calling for a ritual burning.
Of Kundera who rejected the first three English translations of The Joke, only to later stitch together a “definitive” version using bits of all three, adding: “O ye translators, do not sodonymize us!”
And of old Isaac Bashevis Singer who puffed: “There is no such thing as a good translator. The best translators make the worst mistakes. No matter how much I love them, all translators must be closely watched.” Nobel, indeed.
In the who the hell does this guy think he is category, we have Borges’s longstanding American translator cum tagalong Norman Thomas di Giovanni who diluted and undid stunning prose for what he ruled the American ear, saying the process of translating Seńor B., “I liken to cleaning a painting; you could see the bright colours and sharp outlines underneath where you couldn’t before.” [more>]