Lack of translation in science is creating more inequality: Can translators help?

A while ago, I read this article on The Guardian titled “Lost in translation: Is research into species being missed because of a language barrier?”, together with a couple of scientific articles that included in it (especially, this one and this one).

I thought this article gave an unfair treatment to environmental translators in particular, and translators in general, so I decided to write a protest blog post.

Environmental translators are staunch advocates for the texts they translate.

First let’s establish some common ground. These are the main take-away messages from the articles that I can’t not agree with:

  1. Because of budget, time constraints and language barriers, a big chunk of the science developed in languages other than English (LOTE) is never published and therefore never available to the wider scientific community.

  2. This reduction in scientific knowledge is detrimental to the world as a whole: less knowledge is disseminated, used, and applied to public policing; our land, water, resources, and wildlife suffer the consequences; academia underutilizes its full capacity; this creates a vicious cycle.

  3. Publishing and making available more scientific articles in LOTEs would benefit global conservation efforts and help close the gap between the global north and the global south.

  4. As the amount of scientific research grows, so does this gap.

  5. Language barriers are not being dealt with effectively.

  6. Many reporters and scientists don’t understand what translators do and how their proficiency can make a difference.

Conservation efforts for migratory shorebirds rely heavily on translation.

 I have been a professional translator for over 16 years, and I specialize in conservation sciences. I guess I can say I am environmental translator. When I read that we translators are either virtually non-existent, too expensive or useless, I cringe. I have translated for environmental non-profits for issues I care about, sometimes charging my full fee and sometimes a lot less. I know about this gap in knowledge firsthand, and every time I translate, my intention is to do my part to bridge it, one text at a time.

The article on The Guardian and the other two scientific articles get a lot of points right.

They talk about how linguistic barriers stop outstanding scientists from succeeding in their careers because to succeed in science, you publish or perish; and to publish in today’s world means to publish in English. They talk about how this is detrimental to the global scientific community. Understandably, if scientists working and writing in LOTEs can’t publish, their knowledge is never shared, acted upon or taken full advantage of. Other scientists don’t know about their discoveries or advances, don’t include their evidence or perspectives in meta-studies or even double research efforts. Public policing suffers at every level. Funding is distributed unequally. Local scientists in poorer countries don’t have the resources they need. Local, regional, and global conservation and biodiversity weaken. Academia suffers from a heavily biased source of information. Much less knowledge and scientific evidence is collected and distributed. And the cycle goes on.

Those are accurate, urgent points. It all needs to change. The two scientific articles also give some useful, applicable guidelines to overcome language barriers to environmental sciences.

However, from my perspective as a seasoned environmental translator, here is what the three articles get all wrong:

  1. The Guardian uses the catchphrase “lost in translation” in its article title to hook readers’ attention. It is too easy, and in many cases incorrect, of a cliché to always blame the translator. But apart from that, focusing on the idea of “losing something in translation” is not a productive way to see a translated text and a translator’s work. This rule is as old as the Bible, literally: translators do not translate words. Translators translate meaning in context. Meaning goes beyond one or two words, even those branded as “untranslatable.” Meaning is like human communication—universal. There is always a way to convey an equivalent meaning if you transcend the word level. Meaning does not stand alone, stands in context. Context includes not only the immediate words surrounding a particular term, but also the complete text in which those words are used and the whole social context is which this text has been written and is intended to be used, both in its original language and its translated one. When translators do their work, they are parsing all these aspects and creating a mosaic translation, localizing what needs to be localized, adapting what needs to be adapted, retaining what needs to be retained, restructuring what needs to be restructured.

  2. Similarly, the news article says:

“The specific meanings of words can also pose a problem in translation [...]. For example, in the [...] indigenous communities in the Amazon, many of the local languages don’t have one single word to describe forest snakes and frogs.”

Yes, as it happens in every other language with many terms. Not many languages have one single word to name a particular species. When I was translating a book about migratory shorebirds, I encountered at least 217 names of migratory and non-migratory birds. I translated this book into Spanish, a language that is spoken in 21 countries. In Spanish, one such bird can have ten different vernacular names, often conflicting with each other and only understood in a particular country or region. So, what does a professional translator do? Stand in a corner crying out that this is untranslatable? A resounding NO. We find alternative solutions that favor a wider understanding, like using couplets, triplets, or quadruplets (two, three or four different words referring to the same thing, all joined by commas), definitions, descriptions, and scientific names if the text formality allows it, to name just a few strategies. If you’re interested, I wrote about some of my challenges and strategies I’ve used as an environmental translator here.   

Ana Salotti, presenting about her experience as an environmental translator.

3.  In the scientific articles, a lot of emphasis is put on the institutional need to equip scientists working and writing in LOTEs with more language skills in English. It is claimed that, if scientists with non-native knowledge of English learn the language, they’ll be able to fully participate in academia, be able to fund their research, contribute their knowledge to the world and ultimately help conservation and biodiversity locally and globally. Yes, learning English or any other language may well be a requirement in today’s academia, where English is the lingua franca. But knowing two languages doesn’t mean you can translate your own research adequately and satisfactorily to get the grant you are applying for or get published in a renowned journal. Knowing two languages is simply not enough to do what professional translators do after spending years in training and in practice. The same can be said about citizen scientists. Citizen scientists can champion serious advances in science, but in certain situations and under certain circumstances they’re simply not enough. Amateur translators, or machine translation to a similar extent, can help in numerous cases, to name just a few: where the stakes may not be high, where the purpose may be to get the gist of a text or where a preliminary analysis is needed to consider whether to translate the full text or not.

4. The use of translators seems to be badly misunderstood. The Guardian article says:  

“Scientists can work with an English collaborator, or use a translator – but this ultimately strengthens the cycle of dependency on the global north...”

Additionally, in the scientific articles, some hints are made as to the high cost of translation.  

Translators are, therefore, seen as enemies, or opponents, as the arm of dependency to the global north, as a high-cost ballast to the scientific ship. But in reality, translators are authors’ best allies and most ardent advocates. Translators will make translations available only because they believe in their messages. Translators will research one single term for hours or even days, without getting paid for this extensive legwork –and then think about possible solutions for days or dream about the translation, and ultimately keep thinking about that comma they should have added but didn’t in the final version... Professional translators put their heart and soul in their work, just as much as environmental scientists. Most successful translators are truly passionate about their work, just like environmental scientists. We are on the same boat.

So, if you’re considering translating an environmental text that has high stakes for you, consider hiring a professional translator as your best language partner. It will save you time and money and give you a good return on your investment.

Horseshoe crabs are essential to coastline conservation and human health.

My week as a translator: Unraveling Gender-Neutral solutions, AI and MT blunders, and Effective Collocations

Inspired by some of my colleagues in my LinkedIn network and Twitter feed that I follow and admire, I wanted to share some of the projects I have been working on this week.  

On Monday I proofread and did a quality check of two short films subtitled into Latin American/US Spanish. Both film subtitles had been translated from English by an AI/MT interface. These are some of the most horrible examples I had to edit to make them work effectively in Spanish:

"Y las lágrimas empezaron a salir de mis ojos" for "Tears began coming out of my eyes."

This type of structural literal translation, or structural calque, is very common in MT. Is this Spanish phrase understood? Yes. Is it fluent and colloquial? No. Is it good enough for a subtitle? No way. Is it good enough for a localized product? Gosh, no!

A much better, human-quality translation would be: “Se me empezaron a caer las lágrimas.” Or if you have space in your subtitle, you could choose the longer version: “Me empezaron caer lágrimas de los ojos.”

Two more structural calques follow:

From the original: After yoga, I feel warm. 😒

From the original: It helps my whole body calm down.

Much smoother, natural and quality options are: “Después de yoga, siento calor,” and “Me ayuda a calmar todo el cuerpo.” Remember that in Spanish we don’t use possessives with parts of our body like in English. Spanish prefers definite articles. If you want to learn more about these types of parallel syntactic structures, I wrote another blog post about the power of syntax and created a comparative syntax workshop for translators—my course already started this year, but you can sign up for when the on-demand version becomes available.

The other short film was titled “A new sway.” The word “sway” in this case is a catchy play of words that merges the idea of swaying waves, swaying arms and legs when dancing to the Hawaiian hula and a wink to the idea of a new form of life, as the person in the film was going through a transformational change in her life. I knew I needed to find a jazzy, catchy phrase for my title into Spanish. Well localized media products require a well localized title, one that is smooth, catchy and captures the essence of the film in this case. I ended up trying many synonyms and phrases. Un nuevo ritmo | Un nuevo movimiento | Un nuevo meneo | Un nuevo giro | Una nueva danza. I started ruling out one by one. I liked meneo, but in my Google searches I kept bumping into this reggaeton song:

Apart from adding a little dancing to my working day at my desktop, this song—and video—helped me rule out “meneo” as a possible translation. It might carry sensual connotations that I didn’t want present in my film translation. I ended up choosing “Un nuevo vaivén,” with the intent that the word “vaivén” plays enough with the ideas of waves, dancing and change.   

On Jan. 1, 2011, Maureen O'Connor became Ohio's first female Chief Justice, and giving the Court its first-ever female majority. Source: Ohio Supreme Court website.

On Tuesday I translated a social justice article about redistricting in Ohio. In this article, there was the gender-neutral noun “chief justice.” The phrase said “to impeach the Supreme Court’s chief justice (also a Republican).” These types of phrases could easily make a less experienced or inattentive translator trip over a very serious mistake. The unmarked gender in nouns and adjectives is the norm in English, but not in Spanish, which requires choosing gender for all nouns and adjectives, in my case for “chief justice” and “Republican.” Here you HAVE TO search for the identity of these people. NEVER make any assumptions. The text will always give you all the tools you need for your search. My text was about the Ohio Supreme Court. So I searched in Google for the Ohio Supreme Court chief justice. It is Chief Justice Maureen O'Connor, a woman.

In this text, there was also an opportunity to put my corpus search skills to a really good use. The original sentence in English said “the justices barred federal courts from even hearing such claims”. My translation question here was how to translate the verb “hear” in this context. To “hear a claim” in English means that a court of law examines a civil or criminal cause, studies the evidence presented before a judge and tries a defendant to determine the issue. So I needed a translation of the word “hear” that would collocate well, or go smoothy with, the noun “court/tribunal” and “claims/demandas” and function well in this context. My general bilingual dictionary didn’t carry this sense of the verb “hear”. My legal bilingual dictionaries Diccionario de Términos Jurídicos inglés-español/Spanish-English by E. Alcaraz, et. al; and Diccionario de términos jurídico-policiales by J. C. Domíngues don’t carry any entry for “hear”, except for Diccionario Jurídico español-inglés/Law Dictionary English-Spanish by  G. Cabanellas de las Cuevas, which simply gave me “conocer una causa.”

So what to do? What other verbs collocate well with “tribunales” and “demandas”? The literal routes: ¿Los tribunales escuchan demandas? ¿Los tribunales oyen demandas? And the Cabanella’s option, ¿los tribunales conocen causas? I wasn’t satisfied with any of these. So I opened CORPES, a free corpus tool created by Real Academia Española, collecting written and oral texts published in the Spanish language during the last 20 years and featuring over 350 million words. The linguistic searches that corpuses like this one allows are extremely useful to translators—see this blog post on why you need to incorporate corpus searches in your daily practice, and this webinar showing the ins and outs of corpus for translators.

This is what I did in my corpus search. I typed in “tribunal” in the lemma field (not in the “forma” field because only the lemma would give you other variations of the word, such as “tribunales”). Then I went to the Proximidad button to search for my other word, “demanda.” I typed it in the lemma field again (to get results like “demandas”). And I finally set the distance by which I want to find both words, say 4 words. All these variables mean that I want the corpus to search for the lemma “tribunal” separated to the right by no more than 4 words from the lemma “demanda”. Below you can see the search live in a short GIF video, and after that a screenshot of just the first page of my search results.

Thanks to this search, which took only a couple of minutes, I now know what are the most frequent verbs that go with “tribunal” and “demanda”:

Pretty neat, isn’t it?

Finally, on Wednesday I translated a press release where the omnipresent, inclusive YOU in the imperative form in English makes you choose how to address your target audience in your Spanish translations. Will you use the more formal “usted” or the more informal “tú”? When the text doesn’t give me the necessary hints to decide, I tend to choose “ustedes” if it goes to a Latin American audience or the US Hispanic community. So the sentence “You can find XXXX on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram” can become “Pueden conectarse con XXX en Twitter, Facebook e Instagram.”

This press release also presented the opportunity to use more gender-neutral, more inclusive language in Spanish. English doesn’t normally mark gender in nouns or adjectives. But Spanish does. As I specialize in social justice translations into Spanish, using gender- and race-neutral language as much as I can is at the core of my work.

See my infographic below for some strategies:

What do you think?? I’d love to get your input on any of this. You can find me on Twitter, LinkedIn, Facebook and Instagram; or you can shoot me an email filling out the form below to say hello, know more about my work or be in the loop for my most recent tips on translation.

The devil is in the details: Why you need to start using a corpus to localize and translate better

Do you know what a CORPUS is? Have you ever used a corpus before in your translation career? Have you ever felt stuck with a simple phrase in your source language and can’t find an equivalent that runs as smoothly as your original? If you answer no to the first two questions, but yes to the third, read on!

Prepare for the Force, you must

When your dictionaries, glossaries, google searches, and other terminological tools can’t help you get a seamlessly translated phrase, and when your brains are fogged up, you may end up with an accurate, but clunky phrase that does a disservice to your client. Whether you’re localizing a product or translating anything from a report to a slogan, these clunky phrases, in the best-case scenario, can lead to a clunky reading experience for your target audience, and in the worst case, they can alienize the page for the end user or reader and turn them away. The results for your client can be catastrophic. As many localization, translation and engineering experts know, the devil is in the details. 

Corpus can help in these cases.

Let’s dive in.

A corpus is a large collection of text, written, spoken or both, stored in a database. It can contain many millions or even billions of words, coming from books, newspapers, magazines, journals or works of literature that have been scanned or downloaded electronically. Some corpuses may also contain spoken language coming from transcripts of ordinary conversations, like phone calls, business meetings, conferences, parliamentary meetings, or even radio broadcasts and TV shows.

Corpuses show how language is used in society, in real life. When you translate, you’re creating a real-life text that will live in a new language, in a new society. You need to reflect how that society speaks, to speak in their language and reach out to them, for your client. If you don’t, your business may suffer.  

With a corpus, we no longer have to rely so heavily on intuition to know whether a particular adjective goes well—or to use the technical word, collocates—with a certain noun, or whether a word is usually used in a particular context. Instead, we can see what hundreds of different speakers and writers have actually said or written before.

Let’s see a sentence that I was struggling with a few months ago when translating a social justice article from English into Spanish for the Hispanic community in the US:

“The ability of qualified election officials to conduct legitimate audits of their own has gained urgency with partisan actors fueled by the Big Lie conducting partisan reviews that spread false information about elections and undermine confidence in our democracy.”

This sentence is structurally pretty complex in English, and you’ll need a fairly good knowledge of syntax to break up its parts and piece them all together in your target language. I’m not going into any of that now, but you can see this other blog post about challenging syntax. I just want to concentrate on the phrase “has gained urgency.” This is a good collocation in English. The verb “gain” collocates with the noun “urgency”. If we read instead “has taken urgency”, it will probably make us pause, hesitate. If this were a slogan, it would be a big flaw. The same happens in your target language. Not any verb will collocate with the translation of the noun “urgency.” In my target language, Spanish, things get a bit more complicated because we’re so used to reading false friends, calques and literal translations that it’s hard sometimes to separate the wheat from the chaff—there are million examples of literal translations; a heavily broadcast recent example is Will Smith’s slapping remark calqued into Spanish, some of the examples are here, here, and here

So in this example, if we go the literal route, we could say “ganar urgencia,” but does this ring naturally? No. So let’s do what translators do a lot of: find synonyms.

Ganar is synonymous with:

  • lograr

  • adquirir

  • adueñarse

  • triunfar

  • vencer

  • aventajar

  • exceder

  • sobrepujar

  • superar

  • dominar

  • conquistar

  • tomar

  • cobrar

  • alcanzar

  • llegar

  • captar

  • granjear

  • atraer

  • prosperar

  • mejorar

At this point, we’re relying on our intuitive knowledge of our target language to decide which one goes well or collocates with urgencia. But what if we can confirm our hunches with a corpus? So of all these synonyms, I’ve narrowed down my options to “ganar urgencia,” “adquirir urgencia,” “tomar urgencia,” and “cobrar urgencia.” But which one to choose? Corpuses can help us in a way no other tool can.

This is one example of the many corpuses out there. See the reference list at the end for more examples.

Corpes. Corpus. RAE

This is a Spanish corpus called CORPES, a corpus of the 21st Century Spanish, containing texts from 2001 to 2020.

So let’s try our narrowed down options, “ganar urgencia,” “adquirir urgencia,” “tomar urgencia” and “cobrar urgencia.” Watch the search live in the video below. I invite you to learn a new free tool to translate and localize better in six minutes.

If you’re interested in learning more, you can watch my 1-hour webinar clicking in the button below.

REFERENCES

Do you know what Contrastive Syntax is and how it can help you?

During my teaching, translation and proofreading career, I’ve noticed that many translation students and even professional translators don't have a strong background in syntax. Or, being too focused on improving their language grammar, they neglect the study of syntax or don’t know the difference between grammar and syntax. This is a big disadvantage in the translation profession and industry because syntax is one of our strongest tools we have as linguists.

Syntax is too often overlooked in translation studies, and contrastive syntax is usually non-existent. So I thought I could fill up that gap a little bit by writing this blog post and ultimately creating a workshop on contrastive syntax.

Contrastive Syntax is the study of syntax that compares how two languages order words in different ways, side by side. It is the study of syntax reloaded, especially useful for translators, linguists or language students. But let’s rewind and define syntax first.

According to linguistic professor Andrew Carnie, syntax is the scientific study of sentence structure. Syntax dictates the rules for how a language is structured. Words and phrases can’t be placed in any which way if we want to convey meaning. If we break syntactic rules, we can break communication, create ambiguities, introduce errors or write poetry.  

While grammar gives you the rules for language use, syntax gives you the rules for how to structure language.

So for now, there are two points that should be standing out when we define syntax: a scientific study and language structure.  

You probably never thought of language as scientific, but I’ll show you how syntax is a scientific method of reading, analyzing, and creating language—everything we translators do every day while at work.

Science works with a particular method. The scientific method is an empirical method of acquiring knowledge that involves a set of steps. The first one is to observe data or ask a question. Based on that question, a generalization is made, and a testable explanation is put forward, also known as hypothesis. After you have a hypothesis, you set out to test it with experiments. While testing, you analyze your findings and confirm your hypothesis, or if not possible, you revise or refine it. You repeat this process until your hypothesis is confirmed.

So let’s apply the scientific method to syntax in English, and then contrast it to syntax in Spanish. Let’s do contrastive syntax.

First, let’s define two main types of sentences in any language. One is declarative statements and the other is yes/no questions.

A declarative sentence asserts that an event or state of affairs has occurred, or hasn’t or will or won’t. A yes/no question is a question that can be answered by yes/no (or maybe). The same definitions apply to the Spanish enunciado declarativo and interrogativas totales, respectively.

Let’s now begin our scientific method by observing a few declarative sentences and yes/no questions in a contrastive table, comparing English and Spanish examples.

In the chart, we have three declarative sentences, #1, #3 and #5; two yes/no questions, #2 and #4, derived from their equivalent declarative sentences; and one final wh-question, #5.  

I’m going to concentrate on the yes/no questions.

By observing these yes/no questions and their equivalent declarative sentences, we can hypothesize how yes/no questions are formed, that is, their syntactic definition.

In English yes/no questions are formed by moving the second word of the declarative statement to the front.

Bill does prefer meatballs.

Does Bill prefer meatballs?

Peter has eaten his smoked salmon.

Has Peter eaten his smoked salmon?

These examples corroborate our hypothesis.

Let’s now propose a syntactic definition of Spanish interrogativas totales.

In Spanish yes/no questions are formed using the same order as in the declarative sentences and adding opening and closing question marks.

Bill sí prefiere albóndigas.

¿Bill sí prefiere albóndigas?

Peter se ha comido el salmón ahumado.

¿Peter se ha comido el salmón ahumado?

The examples also corroborate our hypothesis. But two examples are too few to draw conclusions. Let’s put it to a further test.

Based on these additional examples, our first hypothesis in English—moving the second word of the declarative statement to the front—doesn’t hold.

Frodo ate the magic beans.

Ate Frodo the magic beans?

The little hobbit will eat the magic beans.

Little the hobbit will eat the magic beans?

The result is an incoherent, ungrammatical sentence. So we’ll have to refine our first hypothesis as:

In English yes/no questions are formed by moving the AUXILIARY derived from a verb in the declarative sentence to the front, followed by the subject and the infinitive verb, and then the rest of the information.

Frodo ate the magic beans.

Did Frodo eat the magic beans?

The little hobbit will eat the magic beans.

Will the little hobbit eat the magic beans?

The hypothesis has been proven.

Let’s now turn to some of our Spanish examples:

Frodo se comió las habichuelas mágicas.

¿Se comió Frodo las habichuelas mágicas?

El pequeño hobbit se va a comer las habichuelas mágicas.

¿Se va a comer las habichuelas mágicas el pequeño hobbit?

¿Las habichuelas mágicas se las va a comer el pequeño hobbit?

Based on these additional examples, our first hypothesis in Spanish—using the same order as in the declarative sentences and adding opening and closing question marks—doesn’t cover some of these examples. So we’ll have to refine our first hypothesis as:

In Spanish yes/no questions are formed using the SAME OR DIFFERENT order as in the declarative sentences and adding opening and closing question marks.

It checks out.

But because the scientific method is all about iteration, why don’t we add one more complex sentence and test this last hypothesis?

Our hypothesis in English stated that:

In English yes/no questions are formed by moving the AUXILIARY derived from a verb in the declarative sentence to the front, followed by the subject and the infinitive verb, and then the rest of the information.

So let’s test it with the new example.

The hobbit who danced at the party has eaten the magic beans.

We find the first verb: danced. Its auxiliary is DID, which we move it to the front, add the subject, the hobbit, and infinitive verb, dance, and then complete the question with the rest of the information:

Did the hobbit dance at the party has eaten the magic beans?

Or

Did the hobbit dance at the party who has eaten the magic beans?

Both results are ungrammatical and incoherent. The second hypothesis in English doesn’t hold, and needs to be refined as:

Yes/no questions are formed by moving the AUXILIARY derived from the verb in the MAIN CLAUSE of the declarative sentence to the front, followed by the subject and the infinitive verb, and then the rest of the information.

The hobbit who danced at the party has eaten the magic beans.

The main verb in this declarative sentence is has eaten. The auxiliary is has, which we move to the front. Then we find the main subject and add the infinitive verb, followed by the rest of the information, but in a hierarchical way.

Has the hobbit who danced at the party eaten the magic beans?

I’ll explain what I mean by hierarchical way in a minute, but first let turn our attention to the Spanish original declarative sentence, and create as many yes/no questions as possible.

El hobbit que bailó en la fiesta se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas.

1)      ¿El hobbit que bailó en la fiesta se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas?

2)      ¿Se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas el hobbit que bailó en la fiesta?

3)      ¿Las habichuelas mágicas se las comió el hobbit que bailó en la fiesta?

4)      ¿Bailó en la fiesta el hobbit que se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas?

Our previous hypothesis in Spanish stated:

In Spanish yes/no questions are formed using the SAME OR DIFFERENT order as in the declarative sentences and adding opening and closing question marks.

While this is still consistent with the examples, we moved the elements so much that we introduced a change in example #3. The change in syntax resulted in a change in emphasis. The declarative sentence and first two yes/no questions put the emphasis on the hobbit. The yes/no question #3 puts the emphasis on the magic beans. This is just one simple example of what syntax can do. It can emphasize something, but it can also introduce ambiguity, humor, poetry... and inconspicuous errors.

So our revised Spanish hypothesis can now read:

In Spanish yes/no questions are formed using a VERY FLEXIBLE order that can match or not that of the declarative sentence and give different degrees of emphasis. They are opened and closed by interrogation marks.

Now about the hierarchical order that I promised earlier. Both the English and Spanish declarative sentences and derived yes/no questions have a hierarchical sequence that, when we move it, can create ungrammatical sentences, a different emphasis or a completely different meaning.

Let’s move some elements around and see what happens:

1.      The hobbit who danced at the party has eaten the magic beans. >> ORIGINAL DECLARATIVE SENTENCE

2.      The hobbit has eaten the magic beans. >> INFORMATION ABOUT THE HOBBIT REMOVED

3.      The hobbit danced at the party who has eaten the magic beans. >> UNGRAMMATICAL

4.      The hobbit danced at the party and has eaten the magic beans. >> RETAINED ORIGINAL INFO, BUT CHANGE IN SYNTAX WITH LIKELY CHANGE IN EMPHASIS

5.      Has the hobbit who danced at the party eaten the magic beans? >> ORIGINAL YES/NO QUESTION

6.      Did the hobbit who’s eaten the magic beans dance at the party? >> YES/NO QUESTION WITH A CHANGE IN SYNTAX, MEANING AND EMPHASIS

 

1.      El hobbit que bailó en la fiesta se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas. >> ORIGINAL DECLARATIVE SENTENCE

2.      El hobbit se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas. >> INFORMATION ABOUT THE HOBBIT REMOVED

3.      El hobbit bailó en la fiesta que se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas. >> UNGRAMMATICAL

4.      El hobbit bailó en la fiesta y se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas. >> RETAINED ORIGINAL INFO, BUT CHANGE IN SYNTAX WITH LIKELY CHANGE IN EMPHASIS

5.      ¿Se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas el hobbit que bailó en la fiesta? >> ORIGINAL YES/NO QUESTION

6.      ¿El hobbit que bailó en la fiesta se ha comido las habichuelas mágicas? >> ORIGINAL YES/NO QUESTION WITH CHANGE IN SYNTAX, NO CHANGE IN EMPHASIS

7.      ¿Las habichuelas mágicas se las comió el hobbit que bailó en la fiesta? >> YES/NO QUESTION WITH A CHANGE IN SYNTAX AND EMPHASIS

8.      ¿El hobbit que se comió las habichuelas bailó en la fiesta? >> YES/NO QUESTION WITH A CHANGE IN SYNTAX, MEANING AND EMPHASIS

 

This is the power of syntax. Just by changing the order, we’re conveying different things. What makes this possible is the concept of constituencies.

A constituent is a sequence of words that functions together as a unit within the hierarchy of a sentence. This the most important and basic notion in the study of syntax. Constituents can’t be placed in any which way. They are embedded one inside another to form the hierarchical structure of a sentence.  

For example, in

The hobbit who danced at the party has eaten the magic beans.

who danced at the party is related to the hobbit, and therefore embedded in the whole subject.

The hobbit who danced at the party is the whole subject that is doing the main action, eating.

All the constituents in our original declarative sentence are highlighted in different colors below:

And in a more complex sentence:

If you can distinguish each constituent in the sentences you read, translate and write, you’ll be able to understand them more deeply, see embedded emphasis, meanings and ambiguities and then transfer the intended ones into your target language, without introducing undetected errors.

Language is not structured linearly, but hierarchically. That is one of the reasons we don’t translate word by word, or use the same word order as the original text.

The meaning of a sentence is not simply the sum of its linear elements. Every sentence has a hierarchical structure that gives a particular meaning to each word in relation to its surrounding context.

If you’re interested in learning more about syntax and delving into a linguistic discovery, join me in my next workshop, Contrastive Syntax for Translators – English < > Spanish. You can find more info here.

references

Carnie, Andrew. Modern Syntax: A Coursebook. Cambridge University Press, 2011.

Di Tullio, Ángela. Manual de Gramática del español. Edicial, 1997.

Translating the Environment: A Journey of 10,000 Miles

During 2017 and early 2018, I took on one of the most challenging, yet rewarding projects in my 12-year translation career: I translated a nonfiction environmental book by American author Deborah Cramer, The Narrow Edge: A Tiny Bird, an Ancient Crab and An Epic Journey, into Spanish. This experience took me through such a fascinating journey that I wanted to share it with anyone willing to listen. So at the 59th ATA Annual Conference in New Orleans I presented a session focused on some of my scientific and poetic challenges as an environmental translator, together with solutions and take-home lessons. Two months later, I was invited to re-present it at my local chapter, the Northern California Translators Association. Here are some highlights.

This book tells the story of the annual migration of a shorebird called the red knot. The author follows them from the most Southern tip of Patagonia all the way up to the Arctic tundra, describing their environmental stressors and meeting people dedicated to protect the birds. I used their journey as the compass in my session, taking the audience through a remarkable 10,000-mile migration, one of the longest in the animal kingdom.

My first big translation challenge in this journey was also the most pervasive one in the book: how to translate the name of each species of birds mentioned? All animal species have two names: a standard scientific name in Latin, used by scientists globally, and a common one. In languages other than English, species’ common names tend to vary greatly within languages. In Spanish, spoken in 21 countries, one bird can have ten different names, often conflicting with each other. Names usually refer to the birds’ colors and reflect local people’s understanding—things that vary depending on where one is based. To make matters worse, in migratory birds, their feathers change color with the seasons. For example, red knots are called playeros árticos [Arctic shorebirds] in Chile, where the book begins, because they come from the Arctic, but also because “Arctic” evokes the greyish white feathers they have during the time they spend there (See image below). When six months later they hop to the Argentine Patagonia, the book’s second stopover, they’re in a different season, have brown and reddish plumage and are called playeros rojizos [reddish shorebirds]. This extreme variation gets repeated with almost every bird the book mentions—and it mentions at least 217!

Calidris cantus - summer and winter plumage

Same bird; different plumage, different season and different name: A breeding bird at the top, and non-breeding bird at the bottom. Looking like this, Chileans call it “playero ártico” (bottom), while Argentineans call it “playero rojizo” (top). Photo reproduced with the permission of the Western Hemisphere Shorebird Reserve Network (WHSRN) Executive Office.

So what to do in translation? Let’s see what I could NOT do:

  • I couldn’t use one regional variant or change the variants around: it would create confusion in a wider readership.

  • I couldn’t add a translator’s footnote enumerating other variants: it would distract the reader’s attention and interrupt the book’s literary flow.

  • I couldn’t use the birds’ scientific name: the book’s audience, both in its source and target versions, is a lay reader interested in environmental topics, not a scientist. A name in Latin would distance the reader and prevent them from making an emotional connection with the birds, something a good environmental nonfiction book should attempt to do—harness the power of emotional, poetic language to create awareness around species conservation and help bring about socio-political change.

After some deliberation I held with the author, the proofreaders and other interested parties, we decided to go for a creative solution. When Cramer follows the birds in Chile, I used their Chilean names, honoring their feathers’ color and their season. When they hop over to Argentina, I added a phrase like “where the Argentines call them ‘playeros rojizos’”, again true to their colors and season. Along with the author, the book’s scientific proofreader and the publisher, I helped write an introduction to the book explaining these decisions. We also included a multilingual glossary of bird names at the end, containing some of their regional variants in Spanish.

A second challenge was dealing with archaic, historical language in my source text. While in Patagonia, Cramer ponders the birds’ evolution and refers to Darwin’s explorations and observations there, citing paragraphs from his Voyage of the Beagle, Autobiography and On the Origins of Species. These source texts dated from mid 1800s, and added a notable old English flavor, which I wanted to preserve in my target language. I tried my best, but the feel of Darwin’s 1800s style was painfully missing in my translation. While researching, I discovered that some early 20th century Spanish translations of Darwin’s writings were in the public domain. I searched for and incorporated the corresponding quotes, which did have an old Spanish flavor, and added a footnote crediting the version and translator. When another piece of writing from the 15th and 16th century appeared in my source text, I did a bit of digging for old expressions and spellings in a diachronic Spanish language corpus (see image below. And if you’re interested in knowing more about corpuses and how they can help translators, you can watch my webinar here). By means of compensation, I added an old spelling here, an old word there, and hopefully conveyed the writing style of old.

Diachronic corpus search results, showing the concordances of the word “estima” in old Spanish, sorted by year of publication. By clicking on each line, you can read the whole context of the word and its bibliographical details. Source: www.http://web.frl.es/CNDHE (Corpus del Nuevo Diccionario Histórico del Español). If you’re interested in knowing more about corpus, you can watch my webinar.

Another challenge was the meticulous specificity with which Cramer describes the animal and bird behavior she observes first hand. Not being a biologist or having made these observations myself, I felt I needed to “see” what she saw before attempting to translate. I used the advanced search in Google to look for videos, and after a bit of digging, I found YouTube videos of every animal behavior she described, like Magellanic plovers spinning and pecking, mullet running and dolphin “strand-feeding” on them; and blue crab busting out of their shells, to name a few (See video below).

This is one of the YouTube videos that showed me first-hand animal behavior. Reproduced here with the video creator’s permission, Patricia González.

After the birds depart Patagonia, many of them travel nonstop to Delaware Bay (USA), flying at least 6,000 miles in six to eight days without stopping to rest or feed. They gather here in huge numbers to voraciously eat a prehistoric animal’s eggs: the horseshoe crab. The chapter Cramer dedicates to horseshoe crabs, which she calls Blue Bloods after the animal’s blood color, was the one that took me the longest to research, translate and edit. She embarks—and I along with her—upon a centennial journey of fishing exploitation, blood therapy history, intravenous drugs and nuclear medicine. As it turns out, horseshoe crabs are just as essential to migratory shorebirds’ survival as they are to our health (See image below).

Horseshoe crabs in Jamaica Bay, NY, during my research explorations. Horseshoe crabs are caught to extract their blue blood for its clotting agent, LAL. The LAL test has become the standard to test for fatal bacterial contamination in most intravenous devices and IV substances for human use. If you’re mesmerized by these creatures, you may want to know that they were an essential help to create the COVID-19 vaccines in record time.

On the next stop in our journey, I encountered a few sociopolitical challenges in translation. Cramer is on a helicopter with an ornithologist surveying for birds at the US-Mexican border. While aloft, she describes how the US Border Patrol is looking for “walkers... following the many curves of the Rio Grande”. Firstly, keeping the tone of “walkers” to refer to people crossing the border on foot was a challenge for me knowing the sociopolitical connotations this entails in the United States. Secondly, Rio Grande posed an additional problem—this is the name the river is given here, but not in Mexico, where its official name is Río Bravo. Considering the Spanish book was going to be read both in Mexico and potentially in the US by Spanish-speaking readers, I ended up using “Río Bravo” first, with the addition of “which in the United States goes by Río Grande”.

Politics permeated my source text in yet another way—is the Americas one or more continents? The word “América” in Spanish may be politically controversial to those born and raised in Latin America. To them, this word means the Americas, not just the US. What’s more, it’s also thought of as a single continent extending from Ushuaia all the way to Alaska, when in English this is understood as two continents: North and South America. So when Cramer writes: “Red knots speak to us of distant realms, uniting us along a line that stretches the entire edge of continents,” I was torn. In a Northern hemisphere’s worldview, red knots flying from the Arctic to the Chilean Patagonia unite two continents, while in my Latin American readership’s worldview they unite one continent. Once again, geographical borders are not equivalent, but rather fuzzy, and source and target readerships’ expectations differ greatly. I ultimately decided to go for “one single continent” leveraging the author’s message that these migratory birds know no political boundaries and unite us all in their flight.

Apart from all these technical, sociopolitical challenges, the book author made poetic, creative use of the language. As an example, let me include a pun that caused me a translation headache. Cramer is exploring the Canadian Arctic looking for red knots in their breeding grounds. One of the scientists she travels with sees a breeding red knot and writes: “I was amazed how difficult it was to follow the knot; it blended in very well with the rocks. I lost track of it over a ridge. I sat for a while hoping to spot it again, but unfortunately did (k)not.” Any ideas how you’d translate this into your languages?

All in all, translating this environmental nonfiction book was a like microcosm of the practice of translation. It required me to wear several hats simultaneously. I needed my science hat, as I researched, studied and consulted experts and highly-specialized glossaries and dictionaries. I needed my literary hat while conveying the author’s worldview, poetics and writing style, and capturing a lay readership’s interest in the story. I also needed my cultural broker’s hat, bridging sociopolitical differences and uniting a varied readership that spans as wide as the birds’ annual migration. Come to think of it, wearing multiple hats simultaneously is part and parcel of every translator’s daily work. I strongly believe that the key to a well-done job is to know when and how to move in and out of these different roles and to reflect on why.

Presenting a talk about this topic at the December 2018 General Meeting for the Northern California Translators Association.

References

Cramer, Deborah. The Narrow Edge: A Tiny Bird, An Ancient Crab and an Epic Journey. New Haven-London: Yale University Press, 2015.

Cramer, Deborah. Volando a orillas del mar: El viaje épico de un ave playera que une continentes. Buenos Aires: Vázquez Mazzini Editores, 2018.

Del lado de acá y del lado de allá: La lectura bilingüe de Poso Wells en nuestro club de lectura

Por Ana Lis Salotti

Primer evento sobre Poso Wells donde debatimos sobre el libro el 15 de diciembre.

Primer evento sobre Poso Wells donde debatimos sobre el libro el 15 de diciembre.

El 20 de febrero hablaremos con Dick Cluster sobre su traducción de Poso Wells.

El 20 de febrero hablaremos con Dick Cluster sobre su traducción de Poso Wells.

El sábado 15 de diciembre de 2018, los contertulianos del Club de Lectura Bilingüe “Entre dos mundos” de San Francisco se dieron cita para debatir Poso Wells de la ecuatoriana Gabriela Alemán, tanto en su versión original en español como en la traducción al inglés de Dick Cluster. En este Club de Lectura, que junto con una colega y amiga comenzamos en noviembre de 2017 en la ciudad de Nueva York y desdoblamos entre NYC y San Francisco cuando me mudé a esta última ciudad en julio de 2018, pretendemos leer libros escritos originalmente en español, publicados no más de siete u ocho años atrás y que tengan su traducción al inglés. Durante nuestras reuniones, mantenemos debates y charlas bilingües sobre el libro en sus dos versiones. Como traductora, al igual que muchos de nuestros participantes, no solo me intereso en la historia, los personajes, la escritura y el estilo del autor o la autora, sino que también debatimos sobre pasajes particularmente desafiantes para el traductor o pasajes en traducción que, creemos, fueron logrados magistralmente o no tanto.

Para mí, Poso Wells ha sido uno de los libros más interesantes que hemos debatido en este club de lectura. Por eso, decidí escribir un artículo sobre mi lectura y nuestros debates durante la reunión. Además, vamos a tener el honor de conversar en vivo y en directo con su traductor, Dick Cluster, el 20 de febrero de 2019 en Oakland, CA. En vísperas de este tan esperado evento, qué mejor que repasar nuestras lecturas.

Poso Wells nos cautiva ya desde el título. Es una especie de doble juego de palabras, o incluso triple o cuádruple. Por un lado, hace referencia al escritor inglés H. G. Wells (1866-1946), considerado uno de los padres de la ciencia ficción. No solo tenemos el nombre de Wells en el título, sino que su intertextualidad, específicamente con su cuento The Country of the Blind/ El país de los ciegos (1904), resuena en toda la novela. En pocas palabras, el relato de Wells trata de un alpinista que cae a un valle desierto de los Andes ecuatorianos y se encuentra con una civilización de personas ciegas que viven allí. Hay puntos de contacto esenciales entre el cuento de Wells y la novela de Alemán. Ambos relatos comparten el mismo escenario: las inmensidades desiertas de los valles y picos andinos del Ecuador y su gente en las laderas. También comparten el mismo descenso hacia una extraña civilización de ciegos. Esta maraña de intertextualidad enriquece y amplía la lectura de la obra.

Por si esto fuera poco, la palabra “poso” juega con su homófono “pozo” y vuelve a referirse en espejo al apellido del autor Wells (“well” en inglés significa pozo). Pozo con “z” nos remite una vez más a un descenso a las entrañas de la tierra, al inframundo. Además, Poso Wells es el nombre del lugar físico donde transcurre la acción. Alemán escribe: “quien quiera que haya ideado en un mal día el infierno, debió tener en su cabeza la forma exacta de Poso Wells” y más aún “Algo se agazapa en las calles de Poso Wells y ataca los nervios como un tam tam persistente. Y eso, sea lo que sea, jadea en los sueños de sus habitantes, los lengüetea con su ruinosa saliva y aliento de pozo séptico y deja sus cuerpos pringosos y sucios cuando despiertan. Esa sensación de peligro no se quita con solo intentarlo, se vive con ella todo el día y al atardecer se vuelve más palpable pues no es solo comida lo que desaparece sino mujeres”. Y así, de un modo casi aterrador, introduce uno de los temas sociopolíticos de la novela y del Ecuador: la desaparición de mujeres.

Por su parte poso con “s” significa:

1. m. Sedimento del líquido contenido en una vasija.

2. m. Descanso, quietud, reposo.

3. m. desus. Lugar para descansar o detenerse.

Fuente: https://dle.rae.es/?id=ToNfY29

“Poso” nos hace pensar en sedimentos, en lo que se bota, lo que sobra, lo que se deja cual desechos o residuos. Cuando Alemán describe el sitio, dice: “kilómetros de viviendas de palo, caña y aglomerado construidas sobre aguas servidas y barro podrido”. En este sentido, “poso” quizá pueda relacionarse con la corrupción, la política o la extracción minera del oro, tres temas muy constantes en esta obra. Es interesante que “poso” también sea un lugar de descanso o quietud. ¿Será quizá la tranquilidad superficial con la que los habitantes de Poso Wells dejan pasar sus días?

Creo que la riqueza de este título en español pone de manifiesto, ya desde el principio, la dimensión de teseracto que tendrá la obra. Un teseracto es una suerte de hipercubo imaginario donde todas sus aristas están conectadas entre sí y por estar ubicado en la cuarta dimensión el ser humano solo puede imaginarlo y no distinguirlo. Igual que un teseracto, la novela de Alemán tiende una red de personajes y temas sociopolíticos, económicos y ambientales interconectados entre sí y cuyo conjunto enmarañado a veces no sabemos distinguir. A mi entender, el título Poso Wells con sus muchos niveles es una de esas aristas del teseracto. La edición en inglés también se titula Poso Wells y Cluster, en un intento de reflejar la complejidad intrínseca del español, introduce: “Poso Wells—or Wells’ Sediment in less poetic terms” (p. 24). ¿Traspasará este doblete la totalidad de niveles? El traductor se plantea estas y otras cuestiones en una interesante entrevista que le hizo a la autora.

Las elecciones reales de Ecuador de 2006 son el puntapié inicial de la historia ficticia. Uno de los candidatos presidenciales, ya en segunda vuelta, viaja a Poso Wells para hacer campaña y dar un acto político con bombos y platillos, lleno de demostraciones demagógicas. En la novela este candidato se llama Andrés Vinueza. Fue apasionante descubrir que estas elecciones y muchas de sus circunstancias ficcionalizadas por Alemán en realidad tuvieron una base de verdad en la vida política ecuatoriana. En 2006 hubo efectivamente una segunda vuelta entre Álvaro Noboa, el empresario más rico del país, y Rafael Correa, líder de la izquierda. La sensación de irrealidad vivida en el país durante esta época debido a los numerosos casos de autoritarismo, populismo, corrupción, nepotismo y la elevada cantidad de candidatos presidenciales (¡fueron 13!) me hizo pensar verdaderamente en un país de ciegos donde la población, ciega, no puede ver con claridad estos intentos de perpetuación en el poder y vota en la oscuridad de sus creencias. Un ejemplo de esta “ceguera” metafórica es que Noboa y también el ficticio Vinueza se identifican como un mesías enviado por Dios para presidir el país y que la gente se lo cree. Otro ejemplo es lo que ocurre un año antes, en 2005, con el entonces presidente del país, Lucio Gutiérrez. Acusado de autoritarismo, fue destituido por la llamada Rebelión de los Forajidos y debió asilarse en Brasil. Pero un año después, con las elecciones de 2006, regresa y se vuelve a presentar como candidato. Es encarcelado y su hermano se presenta en su lugar. ¿Puede un político pensar que la gente es ciega, que no tiene memoria y por lo tanto actuar con total impunidad? En el país de los ciegos, claramente sí.

La historia de Alemán nos lleva de la mano a explorar algunas de estas circunstancias electorales del Ecuador, enredadas con la explotación minera, la expropiación de tierras y la destrucción de recursos naturales que llevan a cabo ciertas mineras multinacionales sobornando al gobierno de turno. Además, refleja una gran problemática del país: la desaparición de personas, en especial, mujeres y la corrupción e impunidad del sistema político y policial que la rodea.

Durante nuestros debates, hablamos además sobre el rol de las mujeres en la obra. Si bien muchas son secuestradas y se las muestra como víctimas pasivas, Bella y Sun Yi, entre otras, son mujeres fuertes, heroínas que toman control de su destino y cambian el rumbo de la historia. Bella, ya desde su nombre, personifica contradicciones tan realistas como lo es ser mujer en estos tiempos: la aspiración a la belleza por parte de una sociedad machista, una belleza “corrompida” por una gran cicatriz en el rostro, la violencia doméstica contra la mujer normalizada por la sociedad, la fortaleza y resiliencia femeninas y el liderazgo de la mujer dentro de su comunidad.

Conversamos asimismo sobre la función omnipresente de la religión tanto en la novela como en la cultura ecuatoriana en particular y latinoamericana en general. Una de las participantes tiene familia en Ecuador y nos contó de la influencia incuestionable que ejerce la fe sobre todos los aspectos de la vida ecuatoriana.

También hablamos de los muchos géneros que se entretejen en esta novela. Por momentos es una historia de detectives donde el que busca la verdad es el periodista Varas. Por otros, es una novela de ciencia ficción con una especie de seres humanos ciegos que habitan los túneles de las profundidades de Poso Wells, que han perdido la vista y su capacidad de procrear y secuestran mujeres. Ciertos pasajes son humorísticos y nos hacen pensar en la sátira como recurso literario: por ejemplo, cuando se celebra la misa de difuntos por el supuesto finado Vinueza, el cura se tropieza sobre el ataúd, este se rompe y se descubre que estaba vacío. Durante todo el relato, la ficción se entremezcla con la realidad ecuatoriana a tal punto que el lector llega a confundir realidad con ficción y viceversa. La estructura de la novela, en ocho capítulos cortos, a veces nos recuerda a una novela por entregas o a un folletín de los que se imprimían en los periódicos de antaño. Cada capítulo cierra con un cliff hanger que nos hace esperar con ansiedad el siguiente. Pero como una serie de TV, muchas veces el comienzo del siguiente capítulo retoma la historia desde otro ángulo. Además, incorpora letras de canciones populares mexicanas, como “Chilanga Banda” de Café Tacuba, “La Valentina” de Jorge Negrete y “Náufrago de amor” de Julio Jaramillo. ¡Qué dolor de cabeza para el traductor!

Otro dolor de cabeza son los mexicanismos, como “órale pinche güey”, que le adjudica Alemán a uno de sus personajes. Benito del Pliego, haciéndole honor a su apellido, es poeta y se la pasa cantando, recitando poemas y diciendo mexicanismos.

Otro de los aspectos que solemos mencionar durante nuestras reuniones son las diferentes tapas que utilizan las editoriales. La tapa de mi edición de Poso Wells en español tiene una foto histórica en blanco y negro de lo que pareciera ser un acto oficial de inauguración con un grupo de personas paradas frente a un edificio. En la esquina superior izquierda hay una mancha grande de pintura amarilla con el título Poso Wells en negro. La tapa de la edición en inglés, publicada por City Lights, es minimalista: de fondo azul con el título y los nombres de la autora y el traductor en letras blancas, un rayo prominente en plateado que atraviesa el título y muchos rayos pequeños de fondo. Mientras escribía este artículo, descubrí que hay otra versión en español con una ilustración de una mujer abrazada a un hombre y muerta de miedo. Esta portada es la que menos me gusta porque no representa la fortaleza de los personajes femeninos de la novela. Por otro lado, no logro encontrar mucha relación entre la obra y la portada de la foto histórica, mientras que la portada del inglés hace clara referencia al rayo que le cae encima a Vinueza y que echa a andar el relato.

Nuestro encuentro y mi lectura de Poso Wells abarcaron otros temas e hilos conductuales de la historia. Y podrían haber abarcado muchos más de habernos quedado charlando más allá de las dos horas de nuestra reunión. Por ahora ansío el evento con Dick Cluster para saber más sobre el proceso de traducción de esta novela que engaña por su brevedad. Se podría pensar que es una lectura fácil y plana. Nada más lejos. Gabriela Alemán, escritora, periodista y traductora, nos lleva de viaje a Poso Wells, donde entreteje una historia cautivante y hace entrecruzar la realidad y la ficción para ofrecer una mirada crítica de numerosas problemáticas sociopolíticas del Ecuador, problemáticas que se repiten en toda Latinoamérica y en el mundo.

 

 

Bibliografía

Alemán, Gabriela. Poso Wells. Quito: Editorial Euterpe, 2018. Kindle.

Alemán, Gabriela. Poso Wells. Traducido al inglés por Dick Cluster. San Francisco: City Lights Books, 2018.

Alemán, Gabriela. Entrevistada por Dick Cluster. “Literature Is the Minefield of the Imagination: An Interview with Gabriela Alemán”. Los Angeles Review of Books. 17 de julio de 2018. Último acceso: 21 de febrero de 2019. https://lareviewofbooks.org/article/literature-is-the-minefield-of-the-imagination-an-interview-with-gabriela-aleman/#!

 

Más información

·         Club de Lectura “Entre dos mundos” en Nueva York:

https://clubdelecturanyc.wordpress.com/.

·         Todas las reuniones del Club de Lectura “Entre dos mundos” en San Francisco se anuncian en https://www.meetup.com/Linguists-Translators-and-Interpreters-in-the-Bay-Area/ y en

https://ncta.org/events/.

·         Twitter del Club de Lectura, tanto de NYC como de SF: https://twitter.com/clubdelecturany 

¿Rimar o no rimar? Esa es la cuestión para el traductor de subtítulos

Hace unos meses, tuvimos, entre colegas cibernéticos, un debate que generó polémica: ¿Debe el traductor subtitulador respetar la rima en una canción que llevará subtítulos, digamos, en una película? Por un lado, estaban los que mantenían que el traductor debe procurar reflejar la rima para “transcrear” el efecto de la canción original, y que muchas veces el público no valora ese trabajo extra y noble del traductor al tener las restricciones archiconocidas del medio subtitulado. Por el otro estaban los que consideraban que en realidad no era necesario ni justificado traducir rimando los subtítulos de una canción. En ese debate, me encontré con una de conocida traductora audiovisual de Argentina, Ariana Loker, socia de Talkbox Subtitling Studio. Al finalizar su carrera de posgrado en traducción audiovisual, que realizó en la Escuela Normal Superior en Lenguas Vivas Sofía E. Broquen Spangenberg (Buenos Aires, Argentina), escribió su tesis (allí llamada tesina) justamente sobre este tema (aquí pueden leerla entera). Más abajo, Ariana nos hace una suerte de resumen sobre su tesina. ¿Rimamos o no rimamos?

Ana Lis Salotti - noviembre de 2018

 

Subtitulado interlingüístico de canciones

Ariana V. Loker

Diplomatura en Traducción de Textos Audiovisuales y Accesibilidad

Escuela Normal Superior en Lenguas Vivas Sofía E. Broquen Spangenberg

Al abordar un texto audiovisual, a menudo he observado que los traductores tienden a intentar reproducir todas sus funciones en la lengua meta (Jakobson, 1963). La mayoría de las veces puede ser acertado el intento, pero ¿pueden los mismos principios aplicarse al subtitulado de canciones? ¿Vale la pena?

Sospecho que la teoría mecanicista y positivista de Nida y Taber (1974) nos marca a fuego cuando habla de “reproducción exacta del mensaje en cuanto a sentido y estilo”. Algo importante que esta definición no contempla es el skopos (Vermeer, 2000), que es la finalidad o propósito del texto inserto en su contexto particular (valga la redundancia).

El subtitulado es un tipo de traducción muy particular porque supone la trascodificación de información canalizada a través de un medio sonoro (la banda de audio de los parlamentos) a un medio gráfico (el texto del subtítulo). Por eso se dice que es multimedial. La introducción de la consideración de la finalidad o propósito de un texto, el skopos, tiene especial importancia para decidir su traducción cuando pensamos en canciones para subtitulado porque el texto del subtitulado no tiene la misma finalidad o propósito que la letra original de la canción: el subtitulado no necesita estar ajustado en cuanto a prosodia, ritmo y estructura de rima porque no está escrito para ser cantado.

¿Cuál es el skopos de una canción dentro del contexto de una película? Probablemente, el disfrute estético aural y visual metafórico. Es posible que el relato o las reflexiones de la canción se relacionen directa o metafóricamente con la trama de la historia. Pero hay una serie de elementos que componen una canción inserta en un texto audiovisual: la música (la melodía, los instrumentos), las imágenes (pueden ser imágenes de la película o imágenes extradiegéticas que representan una fantasía de alguno de los personajes) y la letra. De estos tres elementos, el único que se modifica en la localización es la letra; los demás permanecen activos tal como los concibió el director de la película en la versión original.

Los dos aspectos capitales para considerar a la hora de traducir una canción para subtitulado son el nivel referencial o contenido proposicional (función representativa, Jakobson, 1958) materializado en el relato de una acción, la descripción de una emoción o un lugar, el racconto de una historia; y por otro lado, el nivel estético auditivo materializado en la melodía, el tono, la duración, el volumen, el timbre, la dinámica, el ritmo, el tempo, la expresión y la armonía, la pausa, la acentuación y la articulación (Susam-Sarajeva, 2008).

El primer aspecto es resuelto bajo el marco teórico de la traducción general. Respecto del segundo aspecto: la rima, la métrica y la prosodia; todos estos elementos permanecen activos en el audio original y por lo tanto no necesitamos traspasarlo al nivel textual del subtítulo porque sería redundante.

En el caso de las canciones, el aspecto semántico tiene tanta relevancia como el estético, pero la confusión se da al tratar de traspasar la estética de la oralidad en la escritura de la traducción. Esta duplicación no es necesaria porque la musicalidad, cadencia, ritmo y aun el patrón de rima puede apreciarse aunque no conozcamos el idioma original. Más aún: el subtitulado no necesita estar adaptado en cuanto a prosodia y rima porque su skopos no es reemplazar la letra original y ser cantado. Este traspaso del nivel estético oral a la escritura no solo no es necesario, sino que puede afectar la soltura de la traducción por encorsetarla para hacerla coincidir con un patrón de rima, una prosodia o ritmo determinado.

 

El subtitulado como suplemento de la semiosis audiovisual

En la traducción audiovisual trabajamos con cuatro canales que funcionan en simultáneo: el canal verbal auditivo (parlamentos, voces de fondo, letras de canciones), el canal auditivo no verbal (música, sonidos de la naturaleza, efectos de sonido de posproducción), el canal verbal visual (títulos, gráficos impresos en pantalla, carteles, créditos) y el canal visual no verbal (composición de los cuadros, fotografía, sucesión de imágenes que dan forma a la acción). El subtitulado de textos audiovisuales tiene una particularidad que no comparte con ningún otro tipo de traducción. De los dos canales de información (auditivo y visual, compuestos por las imágenes fílmicas, los parlamentos, la música y efectos de sonido agregados en posproducción), no se anula ni reemplaza ninguno como se haría en la traducción de un cuento escrito, una novela, una poesía, donde perdemos el acceso al original y hay un reemplazo total de la mediatización, sino que se agrega el subtitulado como suplemento. Es diferente también al caso del doblaje, donde hay un reemplazo parcial del texto audiovisual porque las imágenes y los efectos de sonido permanecen y se reemplaza la banda de voces. En el subtitulado existe esta dualidad: se conservan todos los aspectos de la obra original: imágenes, parlamentos, música extradiegética (la música de la banda de sonido) y música diegética (la que está dentro del relato ficcional) y para la versión localizada de la obra, se agrega el subtitulado como suplemento. El subtitulado viene, entonces, a servir de apoyo para completar el contenido proposicional de los parlamentos que, como vimos, nos comunica sentido a partir de muchos artificios que funcionan simultáneamente. Otras cuestiones de los parlamentos como los tonos y matices de voz, el volumen de las elocuciones, la cadencia de los diálogos, aunque se den en un idioma extranjero, pueden apreciarse y forman una parte importante de la situación comunicativa. Por lo tanto continúan activos y funcionando. Por esto decimos que el subtitulado es solamente un complemento que suple una —pequeña— parte del sentido general del complejo enunciado que supone una obra audiovisual. El subtitulado, en cierta forma, viene a completar sentido sin molestar; agrega significado sin quitar nada.

Creo que la huella sonora del audio de la película tiene prevalencia por sobre la voz mental que activamos en la lectura de subtítulos. ¿Por qué traspasar la rima y prosodia de una canción (elementos fónicos) a la escritura del subtítulo (elementos visuales)? ¿Por qué duplicar estos elementos de naturaleza oral en un subtítulo que está destinado a ser leído en silencio? Parecería, como mínimo, contradictorio.

 

Extracto de la tesina: Subtitulado interlingüístico de canciones de Ariana V. Loker, 2017

Referencias:

JAKOBSON, Roman (1963). Essais de linguistique générale.

NIDA Eugene y TABER Charles (1974). The Theory and Practice of Translation.

VERMEER, H. (2000). Skopos and Commission in Translational Action.

JAKOBSON, Roman (1958). Closing Statement: Linguistics & Poetics.

SUSAM-SARAJEVA, Ṣebnem (2008). Translation and Music: Changing Perspectives, Frameworks and Significance.

Speaking at the American Translators Association’s Annual Conference

Mission impossible or a feather in your cap?

The deadline was fast approaching. The occasion was to present at the American Translators Association’s 56th Annual Conference in Miami, to be held from November 4 to November 7, 2015, and was expected to gather 1,600 attendees from 52 different countries. My anxiety was building up. That one would be my first conference where I would be proposing a session.

I decided to present two sessions. I thought I would have more chances to get at least one approved. It turns out my two sessions were accepted. Game on!

The experience was incredibly enriching, yet frightening. I learned a great deal about what to do to present a winning proposal, and then to deliver a presentation that garnished good, constructive feedback. Is presenting at the ATA conference a mission impossible? I wanted to know if I were up to the challenge. This is what I did, and sometimes didn’t do, to present a successful presentation proposal.

1)      Identify an interesting, original topic that you are knowledgeable enough to present in 45-50 minutes and be able to answer questions from the public about it in the remaining time. To identify a potential topic, you can on sessions already seen in previous conference programs or proceedings. This can trigger your imagination: What have you worked on as a linguist that hasn’t been presented before? What do you know that is interesting, enriching and “original” enough to appeal to other fellow linguists? What lessons or challenges have you experienced during your career that could be of use to others? What is a piece of theory in translation studies that you have seen applied in practice?[1]

2)      Brainstorm ideas. Write or talk about potential areas in the identified topic. I usually use a pen and a piece of paper. I love the freedom given by a blank piece of paper. I use arrows to link ideas, circle main topics, make a concept map, come up with garbage ideas that only after discarding them bring more viable ones, doodle concepts for my future slides…  

3)      Watch the ATA webinar on how to present a winning proposal by Corinne McKay, to be found here. This is very useful. Don’t miss it! It’s a bit less than an hour long, and it’s worth investing the time.

4)      Write your 100-word summary. Try to focus on what exactly makes your talk appealing: maybe it’s a pretty new topic that hasn’t been presented in a while, or a new angle; maybe it’s a very specialized niche in the market, or maybe it’s an advanced talk for experienced linguists. Anything that sets your session apart from the hundreds of proposals presented each year is a good point to highlight. I see conference proposals as an argumentative text type. You are basically trying to convince others that what you have to say is worth listening to. Be convincing! Argumentative texts should be appealing. Try to pick your reader’s interest by putting yourself in the conference organizers’ shoes and think: Why would I want to hear a session on this topic? What’s the appeal here? How is this session different and interesting in a translators’ conference program?

5)      Write your bio in support of your proposal. Don’t think of your bio as a separate text from your proposal. They should work in conjunction. Your bio needs to be 100 words max. So use your words smartly: concentrate on the aspects of your career that present you in the best light considering your topic. For example, if your proposal deals with the translation of young adult literature, the fact that you have 10 years of experience in medical translation won’t help your case much. Highlight your most relevant experience.

Once you put a winning proposal out and get accepted, start planning your session straightaway. I made the mistake of leaving it till the month before the conference, and found myself working against the clock to finish the presentation slides and the script.

I believe it’s a good idea to write a script for your presentation. While you shouldn’t read out a script at the conference, writing one helps you become a more organized, engaging speaker. A good rule of thumb is to write an average of 100-120 words per minute of presentation. So if you are going to present a 45 minute session, a script of between 4,500 and 5,400 words is a good length.

The experience presenting at the ATA conference was amazing. I learned and got so much out of it! If you’re interested, my proposals at that time can be read here: Voyage to Antarctica: Translating the Environment, and Reel Fun: Improving Your Subtitles. This year, I presented another proposal and it got accepted! It’s called A Journey of 10,000 Miles: Translating Environmental Nonfiction. ATA 59th Annual Conference in New Orleans, here I go!

[1] This is something I don’t quite see so much at ATA conferences, and I think it’s a fertile area to explore!