What's the good word?

Whatever might have been the fallout of Salman Rushdie's (much- misinterpreted) introduction to the Vintage anthology he edited in the 50th year of Indian independence, it certainly brought Indian literature centrestage - the most important aspect being a renewed attempt to render regional thought in an English translation to cater not only to an Indian but also an international readership - not that some of the finest Indian writing has not been translated into English.

But whatever has generally come up lacks quality with most such attempts never going beyond literal translation.

The interest in regional creative writing is both at the national and international levels as well. Imprints like Penguin, HarperCollins, Macmillan and a small section of the cottage publishing industry have increased the quantum of translations in their annual publishing lists. And several publishers abroad have been enthusiastic about the idea.

But translation per se is neither lucrative nor pursued and looked upon as a form of creative communication. The State-run academies and trusts have done precious little - except for minor awards in the past few years - to encourage creative translation. Katha is probably the only set-up in the country at the moment which has done some remarkable work in translation.

But what constitutes a good translation?

SURESH KOHLI talks to renowned Malayalam author Paul Zacharia, his translator A. J. Thomas, who also doubles up as Assistant Editor of Sahitya Akademi's literary journal Indian Literature, and Penguin India's Commissioning Editor, V. K. Karthika about translation.

Excerpts from the interview:

* * *

LET us start with Karthika. How do you go about commissioning a translation? Do you first locate an author, or his work, or depend on the translator to come up with a suggestion?

V. K. Karthika (V.K.K.): Rather arbitrarily, in my case because it is by word of mouth. One hears about a writer, one reads about a writer in terms of what standing the person has in the language, or outside the language. Then you go update your knowledge, do some research and find out what book of that author would be most suitable. And then you track down the translator. This is one way.

The other way is that a lot of translations come to us. Or people come to us saying, "I am a translator. I like this author. Would you like ..." something like that. Find out which kind of book you are interested in, and then commission a translation. It works both ways.

Do you look at samples of translations, or is just that?

V.K.K.: Yes, in some cases. For instance, one of the translations we did was from Malayalam. I am not going into names but we ask for a chapter, I mean, which could show us what we could make of that chapter. Then I read both the English version and the original and say, "OK, we will go ahead with you, and accept it." In some cases, we do not.

Paul, as an author, how do you go in search of a translator? For instance, in the specific case of stories in The Reflections Of A Hen In Her Last Hour.

Paul Zacharia (P.Z.): I would go by my intuition that I will be able to work with that person easily because it is always teamwork.

The translator prepares a draft and I work on it because no translator is able to take liberties with the text the way I would ... changing something here or there, eliminating a statement that does not jell. I am able to do all that when I am working in tandem with a translator. This translator has to be somebody whose judgment I can rely upon.

What is your criterion, Thomas, of picking up an author in terms of translation? How "literal" or "faithful" do you try to be to the original text?

A. J. Thomas (A.J.T.): I have to answer this question some other way. My attempts at translation in a big way began with Paul Zacharia's stories. I grew up, liking his stories, and I met him much later in life. That was in 1991. I had started translating his stories as part of my M.Phil. dissertation. You know, for literary translation, particularly short fiction or poetry, you have to fall in love with the work. It is not a work for remuneration, or something like that.

Are you trying to suggest that translation cannot be taken up as a professional job?

A.J.T.: I really do not know. I do not think you can pick up any literary work and start translating it after objectively reading through it as you would do so with a text that is science based. In the case of a poem or a story or a novel, you have to read it and enjoy it first. You fall in love with that work. That is my way. You have to like the work so enormously that your everything comes out in translation. In Zacharia's case, I was lucky to have the author supplement my efforts to getting to the soul of the work. But normally a translator does work one-sided. Ours is a special relationship, which grew between 1991 and 2000.

How many chances of such incest do you experience, Karthika?

V.K.K.: I hope not too many, otherwise it is difficult to work. In this case I have not had problems because I was directly involved with both right from the beginning. We literally worked through the whole project together. But my feeling is that if I were to come across more translators who did think that out of love, they would tend to be more rigid about what they want and probably put their foot down, and say: "This is brilliant and I refuse to have you edit this", that would be problematic. Paul and Thomas were different. I had no problem. But no I would not think that is the best way to function. I think when you translate something you are not just transliterating the previous work, you are rewriting it. We had this experience with a translator of Satyajit Ray who, inspite of being in another country, manages to work closely with his wife.

P.Z.: You are right.

V.K.K.: Paul has rewritten a great deal of his stories, and that would not have been possible if he had not been concentrating on both texts.

That is probably because he is comfortable with both languages. That is important ... most Indian authors think that ...

V.K.K.: Yes, it is very important. We have had a lot of trouble with authors who think they know. These are authors who come in saying, "I do not like this translation, the translator has not understood what I am trying to say", and then will repeat in English exactly, literally, what they meant to say but that it does not work in English. That is possibly when the editor is most useful because he can do what the translator cannot even say.

A.J.T.: It has been very, very fortunate that Paul is someone like that. O. V. Vijayan and some others, very few really who can translate their own stories competently.

So you agree that there is an element of rewriting involved in translating from one language to another and rigidity, or being literal and rigid ...?

P.Z.: ... will only produce a bad translation. I am absolutely sure about that because ultimately you are speaking to another set of readers who are just not familiar with what your background or what your ambience are, or whatever. So it is better that you ... and then you speak in a different voice which is the language of a different kind of people. And I think you will have to adapt your voice to that in order to make yourself heard in a friendly and easy manner. Without distorting it, of course.

Thomas, forget for a moment that you are a translator. You are also an editor running a magazine where you receive a lot of translations. And translations from those languages that you do not know. What are your criteria for selection or acceptance?

A.J.T.: We judge the English text we have at hand. Then, of course, we go beyond and try to get into the stuff. For instance, we had this Punjabi dalit issue. Though the material was excellent and rare, the translations were bad. But in the case of other languages, we just send them back because competent translations are not hard to come by. So these are the kind of concessions we give to marginalised themes or regions or languages.

V.K.K.: These are considerations that they can live with because they are Sahitya Akademi, but a commercial publisher cannot. We cannot afford to put out a book that does not have that appeal that an English book has.

But a lot of badly translated books come from your stable.

V.K.K.: Absolutely. We just do not have translators of that ability. To get one is to hold on to him forever and say, now just keep doing this thing. We have brought out as many as eight books by a translator from Bengali. And each one of them is a success.

What has been the response to translated novels and short story collections?

V.K.K.: We do very few anthologies. We most often choose novels because even as a form in English, the novel works much better. The response in the international market has been very poor. The ones we picked up were essentially classics from Tamil and Sanskrit, the period thing. In contemporary writing, Paul's book interested a lot of people because they found the translation really acceptable and fluent. But not many others. Novels do much better.

P.Z.: Why this difference? Why does the novel have an upper hand?

V.K.K.: I do not really know. Perhaps it has to do historically with the collections people have put out ... very uneven in quality. Some good, others bad. Unless you get an extraordinarily good collection, like yours. Whereas in the case of a novel, either it is good or bad.

P.Z.: Not many authors are careful about those works which can be translated, in the sense of making it an aesthetically compatible text. A story might have some kind of a significance within the cultural context and it may mean nothing in another cultural milieu. Both authors and translators choose works that further shuts out a new readership. Every work need not communicate to all the people in the world. So the judgment is very important.

Will you allow surgery by an editor? Indian authors and translators are very touchy and rigid.

P.Z.: I would not mind that as long as I know what surgery is being done and if I am not to be anaesthetised to the point of being in a coma.

V.K.K.: I think that is changing. I do not think that is true any more. It depends on how the editor and the author get along. In a translation you are not independent structure-wise. You are not telling the author to conceptualise in a manner that will not work, as you probably would if the work is original in English. You do not have that liberty. A.J.T.: I think what she said is true. That is possible in a specialised translation publishing programme, and if it is not market-oriented publishing. But I know that is difficult. As a translator, it is important for me to fall in love with the work. My first love is poetry, writing it as well as translating it.

P.Z.: Have you been translating others now?

A.J.T.: Yes. Only after an author makes a request and if I find the work enjoyable. Those are all works of love ultimately.

How often have you disagreed with your reviewers or critics?

V.K.K.: Quite often.

A.J.T.: I think I am sensitive to criticism, especially when it is vicious. When it is obvious that someone is having a go at you.

V.K.K.: True. And the anger that is normally seen in most translators is very justified. The reviewers will write about the brilliant writer and the wonderful story ... and a terrible book. But if the book is terrible, it is because the translations are not good enough. When the book is great, well, the translation part is never mentioned.

P.Z.: Most often when one talks about the translation being good or bad it is just a shot in the dark. Unless the reviewer has read the original text and is familiar with it. But I suppose it has most often to do with the flow of the English language. For my book, I think most people have said the translation is very good. And when they say that, I presume that they mean it reads well and sounds good. And that it does not jarr. In effect, it means good English and an acceptable narrative. At the end you must have a product which is reader-friendly.

V.K.K.: We had a translation from Bengali which did really well because the translation worked so beautifully. It is like this. You have been reading a book about Bengal. But if you have been reading a good Malayalam novel about a middle-class Nair household, and you use the terms of kinship, it might intrude. The strategy has to be visual in presentation. Things are now changing. We have stopped italicising. We think it will give the feel. So I think that is also part of the acceptability of a translated work nowadays. Visually presenting it just as an English text.

A.J.T.: But it hurts when reviews do not mention the name of the translator.

That is much better than their complaining about the reviewer, or writing sending abusive letters because there were not enough complimentary words about a rank bad translation. And all that talk about non-familiarity with the original and missing out on subtleties. I think what matters ultimately is how well it reads and sounds in English or any other translation.

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