Translated fiction is an increasingly popular literary genre, and, as indicated in the growing acclaim accorded to the International Booker Prize, demand for fiction translated from, and to, other languages  is rising steadily. The 2023 European Year of Skills therefore seems as good a time as any to highlight the frequently overlooked creative skills of the translator, and the talent, imagination, and creativity demonstrated by translators working in the EU and its Eastern neighbours.

While translation software grows in capacity and intelligence, the art of translating remains an unreproducible  skill. Translation is sometimes considered a simple or straightforward task, but in reality, it’s quite the opposite. Even the best  translation software is simply unable to convey accurately the full range of emotions, sincerity and vulnerability that a literary writer may wish to convey.  Translators also play an important role  as a uniting force, connecting individuals from different languages, communities and countries.  Dr Eszter Tarsoly is Associate Professor at UCL’s School of Slavonic and East European Studies. Her  extensive experience of both translating and engaging with the translated word, has given her valuable insight into the process. She outlined some of the complexities involved in the act of reading translated texts, pointing out that, “translation works because we believe in it”, and because we believe in the “equivalence between two texts”. However,  for this very reason translation can also be problematic.  For instance, she believes it is a misapprehension to expect that a piece of translation will be identical to the original text. Therefore, we should recognise the separate role of the writer in formulating the original piece and the translator in interpreting and reconstructing the  text. In this regard, they both hold distinct values and intricacies.

This is particularly true of translated fiction, where a successful translation involves striking a fine balance between the aesthetic and the technical.  As the American linguist Eugene Nida  outlines in his theory of dynamic equivalence, in literary translations, some technical accuracy and fidelity to the grammatical or structural pattern of the original will inevitably be sacrificed, as the translator attempts to replicate the emotional qualities of the original text. He indicates that the translator should attempt to recreate the feelings that they themselves experienced while reading the original piece, conveying the same emotion in the target language. Nida views this  ‘dynamic equivalence’ as a fluid process, one that is never static, but is constantly shifting to be appropriate for an ever-changing context.

Nida, whose reputation was built on his work on translations of the Bible,  warns that “the possibilities for error in the translation of a message are enormous, especially when the languages and cultures involved differ widely”. However, this doesn’t mean that the translation of literature will inevitably  be a futile task.  Rather, it means we must recognise some inherent truths. Firstly, that translation is never exact, because no form of communication  can ever be. It is a fluid process that should take place in the context of a constant dialogue, one in which we acknowledge that the work of writer and translator requires separate skills, each deserving both criticism and celebration.

The second truth is that translation is a subjective and personal pursuit. For instance, in his author’s note at the beginning of The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, Milan Kundera comments on how, as a fluent Czech and French speaker, he recognises the French translations of his work as being “equal in authenticity to the Czech texts”. He accepted that there would inevitably be differences, but was nevertheless confident in the translations of his work, largely because of his own incredibly detailed revisions. The author’s agency in this process was therefore vital in creating a text which was authentic to the original. 

Kundera’s work was translated into English by the hugely respected and prolific polyglot translator, Michael Henry Heim. But even so, it wasn’t until Heim’s second version of his translation that Kundera felt able to recognise the work as his own in the English target language.  Tarsoly also emphasises the importance of ‘multiple translations’. Like any skill, the ability to create a good literary translation is something that must be cultivated, a talent that requires constant reflection and improvement. Distinguishing accurately between the skill sets of a writer and of a translator, allows us to appreciate these distinctions and go further than simply taking a translated work at its face value. 

When a piece of literature is translated from its original language into another, it opens the work up to a new audience of potential readers, eager to delve into a world that is either familiar, or completely new to them. It expands the number of people able to engage with a history, culture, or overall experience, which may have otherwise remained unknown to them. Writing last year in the New York Times, Alexandra Alter argues that contemporary translations of  the work of Ukrainian writers are themselves acts of political defiance, intended to draw attention “to a rich cultural landscape”, which, while distinct, is currently threatened. 

Ultimately, translation encapsulates the very peculiarities of language, but also goes far beyond this. It acts as a bridge on which individuals can meet to share their stories; helping us better understand each other and our differences, but also the values we share. However, it is essential that we acknowledge the complexities of translation, and the problems which arise when we fail to recognise these complexities. Reading a piece of translated literature should be considered the beginning of a journey, during which we learn more, not just about the language and culture of others, but also about the places that we ourselves read from. 

Newly translated literature from the Eastern Partnership Countries:

‘Three Apples Fell From the Sky’ by Narine Abgaryan 

A stunning portrayal of a town isolated in its location and culture, but simultaneously impacted by events affecting Armenia more widely. The novel replicates the structure of a fable, offering the perspective of three protagonists in three distinct, but connected stories. Through expressive imagery, Abgaryan illustrates how the strength of friendship and human connection will always triumph over hardship.

Translated from the Russian by Lisa C. Hayden in 2020

‘Lucky Breaks’ by Yevgenia Belorusets

A powerful depiction of the seemingly ordinary experiences of women from the Donbass region of Ukraine, as their lives face the upheaval which comes with Russia’s invasion. Acclaimed by Paul Theroux as having  “an unsettling timeliness”, these short stories  are still enriched by  a dreamlike and satirical quality. Individual tales  which are absurd and enigmatic become inevitably intertwined with a sombre reality, an inability to escape the effects of conflict. 

Translated from the Russian by Eugene Ostashevsky in 2022