The Text as a Guide

Howard Goldblatt spoke about his most recent work, the epic novel "Wolf Totem" by Jiang Rong at the Shanghai International Literary Festival at M on the Bund yesterday. The alpha grandddaddy of contemporary Chinese literature, Goldblatt was adorably humble and seemed bemused that he, the translator, would be the central focus for a book launch for once. He's got that "who-me?" self-deprecating air that belies a fiery passion for and belief in the necessity of non-English literature in translation. "Many people are studying Chinese for all the wrong reasons nowadays," he said, setting down his wine glass to jab the air with his finger. What might those wrong reasons be? "Well, business, for instance!." He went on to insist, with only the slightest shred of jokiness, "I truly believe that the real point of studying Chinese is to translate great literature and to study it for a living." A man after my own heart, indeed.

During the Q&A session, Goldblatt expressed many thoughts that many amateur translators (such as yours truly) have always perceived subconsciously, but never vocalized. "When I'm translating, all these questions run through my head: am I overtranslating, am I undertranslating, am I expressing the literal truth of the text or am I conveying the spirit of what the author meant to say?" As a midwife of the work, where does one draw the line between linguistic facilitator and conscientious editor?

Someone in the audience asked Goldblatt who possessed a greater measure of voice in the end translation of "Wolf Totem": the author, or himself? He paused for quite a while before responding. "How can I answer this question? It's all him, and it's all me. It's Jiang Rong's story, his structure, his plot, his characters, his voice, even--but those words are all mine. So there's just as much of myself in the ultimate expression as there is of the author."

The mark of a good translator is her ability to make good decisions--a translation can't possibly succeed with straightforward slavish dedication to the letter of the text. Chinese and English are such fundamentally different languages that literal translations are practically impossible. In this sense, the difference frees up the translator to pick the right idiomatic turns of phrase in the landscape of linguistic possibilities. The original text acts as a guide, not the blueprint.

With the translation of "Wolf Totem," a book that has received a great deal of critical attention in China, Goldblatt believes he's reached another zenith in his illustrious career. According to John Updike in a 2005 New Yorker joint review of Su Tong and Mo Yan's books, the field of contemporary Chinese fiction is "the lonely province" of this one man, who has translated something like 60-odd Chinese works ranging from Yuan-dynasty drama to modern day poems. What was amazing to me was that this guy did not read books prior to being shipped off to Taiwan by the US Navy as a 22 yr old! He then studied Chinese by himself, ended up in grad school, and started catching up on a lifetime of reading-- American novels, German drama, English poetry, and of course, Chinese classics. Just goes to show what man can do when he puts his mind to it. I almost think that his "late bloomer" kickstart to reading literature is the reason for his unwavering drive for it. Goldblatt was just so in thrall of these books and authors he was discovering that he couldn't possibly fathom doing anything else for the rest of his life--and it's this element of ecstatic surprise that lends magic to his translations. He didn't finish reading "Wolf Totem" in its entirety before embarking on his translation: he wanted to be constantly surprised as a reader, he said, so that he could convey that breathless joy of discovery for the reader as a first-time reader himself. An interesting experiment, and one that would've been imprudent for anyone else but this seasoned pro.

Here's an excellent interview with the formidable Professor on Full Tilt.