| Marroca u Rakkonti Oħra and the Fate of Translation | ||
| An Interview with Dr. Toni Aquilina | ||
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Test Parallel / Texte parallèle
12 Short Stories in French with a parallel translation into Maltese
Author: Guy de Maupassant Translator: Toni Aquilina Published by Agenda, Editorial, 2003 pp. 224 + xxviii Lm5.95 (15 euros) Paperback Full Colour cover 148 x 210 mm Produced by Perfecta Advertising Ltd. ISBN: 99932-622-3-4
This is a translation into Maltese of twelve of Guy de Maupassant’s stories under the title Marroca u Rakkonti Oħra / Marroca et autres contes. For the first time, translator Dr. Toni Aquilina, who teaches French at the University of Malta, has chosen to reproduce the original text in French alongside the translation into Maltese. This important choice has added to the costs of production but it has certainly also added to the value and the quality of the book.
Marroca u Rakkonti Oħra / Marroca et autres contes is the fifth translation of texts of French literature published in book form by Toni Aquilina and there are more to come. The book includes biographical notes about Guy de Maupassant and Toni Aquilina, a map of Normandy, and a 12-page introduction in Maltese, with footnotes and a bibliography, by the translator that deals with the author and his short stories included in this collection.
1. Marroca u Rakkonti Oħra / Marroca et autres contes is your fifth published translation of a French literary text into Maltese. For the first time you have chosen to reproduce the original text in French alongside the Maltese translation. Why?
Then there is another very valid reason. Malta cannot boast as yet of a history of translation studies. There’s no such thing as a Maltese translation tradition, no school of thought one could speak of. A quick glance at Part II of Routledge Encyclopedia of Translation Studies cannot fail to drive my point home even further. We have only got as far as producing essays on the history of Bible translations into Maltese – no mean feat some would say but definitely a drop in the ocean. It’s high time we went in search of our roots in this discipline, mapping out scientifically how we have progressed from the point of view of methodology, “tearing to pieces”, so to speak, all the translations we can find to catalogue along the way by confronting them rigorously with the originals.
I sincerely hope that with Marroca u Rakkonti Oħra we can turn a new leaf, speak of then and now. Parallel texts should therefore become the rule not the exception if we want Maltese, now a European Language in its own rights, to withstand the test of time and remain a language to be reckoned with.
2. Are there other ways in which your translation techniques have developed over the years?
There’s no gainsaying the evidence - practice makes perfect. I have been translating seriously since my Teacher Training College days some thirty years ago and today I practise six days a week on both literary and non-literary texts. I also keep myself abreast of developments in translation studies through learned journals and specialized texts, including those dealing with problems encountered in the translation process.
Personally, I have always relied on a structuralist approach when it comes to translation method as this enables me to remain as loyal as possible to the original without tying me down too much along the way as a literal translation let us say would definitely do.
Something that influences me more and more these days in my final choice of the texts I translate is the direct speech content – the spoken word. As you are well aware spoken Maltese has been the worst hit over the years especially because there was practically nothing in place to countermand the influx of foreign words we have been continuously bombarded with over the media. This is partly our own fault as a people, since we are often too idle to offer even a semblance of resistance; and partly because people in the street need the active support of the few linguistic experts who can make a difference. So everybody is to blame that we tend to speak (not write) a sort of bastardized lingo which I euphemistically refer to as Salvatore’s syndrome, after the friar in Umberto Eco’s Il Nome della Rosa who speaks a hotch-potch of languages with a very funny effect I would say. Subconsciously I guess, something in me is trying to redress this wrong.
On the other hand, my translations are consciously aural. I never let go of my manuscript before it can stand to the musical test of recitation. Yes, I read everything aloud again and again. Having been an amateur actor in my younger days helps I suppose. To put it in another way I try to translate like a poet.
3. In the first sentence of the book you translate the word "impressions" as "taħsisieti" instead of "l-impressjonijiet tiegħi" which would be the more obvious translation. Does this choice in such a prominent part of the book reflect the ideology that permeates your translation in general?
If by ideology you mean a conscious preference for Semitic Maltese you may have a point but I am definitely not a slave to it. To dispel any wrong impressions allow me to quote from a review of my translation, Il-Ħabiba ta’ Madame Maigret by a very respected Maltese literary critic in The Times of 1/2/2000: “Aquilina writes what may be called classical Maltese, exploring even the inflected forms of the language, but he does not stop short of the romance word when instinct gives it to him.”
Now as regards the specific word you mentioned in your question, may I point out that originally I had settled for the more obvious “l-impressjonijiet tiegħi” and this can easily be ascertained from a quick perusal of my notebooks. It was only during proofreading that I definitely decided on “taħsisietu” and this for two good reasons. (a) The French words “mes impressions” are used in the cadre part of the short story where the narrator is addressing a real or imaginary interlocutor (presumably by correspondence) who had requested intimate revelations that one would normally reserve for one’s own diary, before coming round to the conte itself. And (b) I had to take into consideration a restriction imposed on me because of style – I wanted to avoid the ugly repetition of “tiegħi” as “l-impressjonijiet tiegħi” is immediately followed by “l-avventuri tiegħi”, which in turn would have been followed by “l-imħabbiet tiegħi” if I had not found an alternative for the latter one as well.
4. In another passage from the first story, "Marroca et autres contes", you make an interesting choice as regards syntax: "Krejt f'dil-belt fil-għoli daqsxejn ta' dar Moreska." ("J'avais loue dans la ville haute une petite maision mauresque.") Is this translation a consequence of the structure of the sentence in the French original or was it a stylistic choice more to do with the internal structure of the Maltese version itself?
5. In a country where we have to translate all the time, our educational system provides no professional preparation whatsoever for the art of translating. Why is that? What do you propose?
I suppose it is one of those realities which defies a logical explanation. The more we depend on translations the more we spurn them and some would go to the extent of ridiculing those who take them seriously, or militate for the solid professional preparedness of the category. As if being Maltese is synonymous with a special claim to the divine gift of tongues; the same sort of fallacy you hear about us being all bilingual.
Professional preparedness presupposes that you already have excellent foundations in place. To be completely honest, I don’t even believe we have a really excellent Maltese-English / English-Maltese dictionary; up to now we have only had great scholars who singlehandedly, and after Herculean efforts, came up with their own personal dictionaries leaving behind quite a few grey areas although they had reached the end of their labours. I can already imagine the disapproving frowns and raised eye-brows of a good number of my peers at the University of Malta. However my assertion is not the fruit of a severe case of delirium tremens on my part; far from it, and they know it.
The Maltese Language is everybody’s business and an Institution in its own rights. An organized body is necessary to cater for its day-to-day needs. Call this body “Il-Kunsill Nazzjonali tal-Malti”, “L-Akkademja tal-Malti”, or any other name you care to give it for that matter, it is absolutely necessary that we have one, housed in prestigious premises and recognized as an authority by the powers that be who are duty bound to equip it both in terms of a specialized library, a small studio with state-of-the-art equipment, conference halls with interpreters’ cubicles in place, computer and language labs besides the qualified personnel to man it in a professional manner. It should have been a priority years before Malta acceded to the E.U. since no price is big enough to save a national heritage of the scale and scope of the Maltese Language.
Moreover, the best minds from all walks of life will have to take their place by law on a functional Language Board. Each one of these elders will then be saddled with organising the necessary meetings of sub-committees or cells with the aim of keeping abreast of linguistic developments in their respective fields and if possible anticipate future needs as well. Thus an attack mentality will eventually replace the disorganized defence mechanisms that up to now have only served as palliatives for the problems that practically everybody concurs have reached alarming proportions. These elders, then, acting together with linguistic experts as one College or Academy will have the last say and their decisions binding.
The Akkademja tal-Malti of which I am the Public Relations Officer has set up under my chairmanship its own Translation Commission working in tandem with the long-established Language Commission. However the harvest is too big for the few harvestmen available, already burdened with many other pressing commitments. We have been saying all along that our University needs to invest in an Institute for Translation Studies. Now that Maltese is officially recognized as a European language we are being made aware of the many lacunae that exist. For example, it is no secret that the translation of the acquis communautaire has proved to be a problem of Draconian proportions. The Translation Directorate in Brussels are very much aware of this as well as of the substandard translations reaching the various institutions of the E.U.. When our Translation Commission went on a fact-finding mission to several offices of this Directorate between the 11 and 16 March we learnt among many other things that they would be only too happy to work hand in hand with us if the local authorities officially support our initiative.
And this reminds me, by the way, that as far as I know, only The Times carried a summary of the report on the above visit sent by the Akkademja by e-mail to all the editors of the local papers. Any further comments I think would be superfluous.
6. Are you working on any new translations to be published in the near future?
I have as many as seven other translations waiting in the queue for any publisher who might be interested. There is Tribaliques by Henri Lopez, a Francophone author and ex-Prime Minister of Congo Kinshasa; La Synphonie pastorale by André Gide and several of Albert Camus’s works. In fact, I already have the word of Agenda Publishers who were editorially responsible for Marroca u Rakkonti Oħra / Marroca et autres contes that next on their list is Camus’s book of essays with a Mediterranean backdrop, Il-Maqlub u s-Sewwa / L’envers et l’endroit. It should be out by the end of September if everything goes according to plan. Naturally it will be backed by an analytical introduction as with previous translations, both as an extra help to my readers who I can never thank enough, and as proof of my commitment as a translator, having assimilated the original to the point where I can be relied upon not so much as an authority on the subject as a valid intermediary between the Source and Target Language.
© Adrian Grima Published on Babelmed, May 2003 |
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