Postcards from a Flat Land

On Translating Sex

This week I translated a sex scene for the first time. It's a short scene and I went through it, in first draft form, just as I would any other scene. When I read back what I'd translated, I started to get nervous. The English version was awful – I mean much worse than first draft awful. I read through the Dutch version again, without thinking about my own language. Straight away, I knew a little more.

I let myself accept that What? was going to come before Why? Literally picturing the scene. The left leg goes here and the right arm goes there…

I read the Dutch version again. I understood more, again. By the time I'd read each version about five times, with re-jigs to the English version in between, I smiled. Next time, reading the English version, I laughed. In a place I am supposed to laugh.

I realised that, to begin with, I had needed to be able to picture all those basic moves clearly, in order to get past them to the emotional content. And even after that I needed to work in a layered process. While I was still preoccupied with movement I couldn't yet see the scene, which has a lot of humour to it, so it functions on a number of levels.

How does translating a sex scene differ from writing one, then? Massively, I've decided. I really don't think about the legs and arms if I'm writing one. I might read through afterwards and decide that an arm really couldn't get into that position unless the character is double jointed, but even that is unlikely. The emotion comes first. It dictates. Whereas, as a translator, it's a bit like being on an archaeological dig, looking for the buried treasure.

Towards the end of the novel, there's a rape scene. I'm curious about how translating that is going to work.

Notes on Translation: Part One

The English language is probably more my home, than any particular place. Yet, for a Brit, I don’t do badly. Dutch, French, dormant Spanish, and nascent German. Well, the latter may not grow much in the coming months as translating a novel from Dutch to English is going to be taking up most of my time. The novel is ‘Mede Namens Mijn Vrouw’ by Aliefka Bijlsma. We’re not entirely sure what the English title will be as yet. I’m going to be blogging here about my experiences. What is it like for me as a writer, translating a novel. I’m between my own first and second novels. Will translating have an impact? I’ve only been working on the translation for a week, so it’s hard to tell, but these are some of my basic observations.

I suspect that what I like most about writing is creating voice. So far, translating prose feels much like rewriting, the stage when, as a writer, I am polishing voice. Character needs voice. It’s like air, breath. I’ve translated screenplays before, but this is a bit different. Translating this novel, it feels as if one of the hardest things for me, will be to make sure that the two central characters are as significantly whole and different from each other, in English, as they are in Dutch. The novel swaps from one point of view to another for quite substantial chunks. The reader must be able to get back under each character’s skin again after each swap. Recognition is important. This may sound obvious but, at the moment, it feels like a very sensitive thing. Sometimes I get a little unnerved by the responsibility.

One peculiarity of ‘Mede Namens Mijn Vrouw’ is that it is a Dutch novel, with Dutch central characters, but set in Brazil. The story takes place in the Dutch diplomatic world. Among other things, it has to do with how different people tackle living in cultures that aren’t their own. On a practical level, this makes the trappings of Holland, such as an Etos plastic bag (Etos is the Dutch version of Boots), or pindakaas (peanut butter - which the Dutch eat like the British eat Marmite), stick out in a way they wouldn’t if the story took place in Holland. They have relevance as objects from ‘home’ - objects from one culture in another - that needs translating in a broader sense than just the words. Such codes are interesting for me because I’m very aware that, because I lived in Amsterdam for almost eleven years, my English has acquired elements of Dutch code, even though I don't live there anymore.

I'm at a very early stage in the job. I’m sure there will be lots more to tell and that I may change my mind about some things. Any thoughts are welcome.

Latest Writing News

I have a couple of pieces online at the moment. A story called 'The Word' at Metazen. And at good old 4'33" you can hear me reading my story 'Windowpanes' at the Betsy Trotwood in Clerkenwell last November. It was a great reading and it's lovely to hear how well it's come out.

My other news is that I'm about to start translating a novel, 'Mede Namens Mijn Vrouw' by Aliefka Bijlsma. I'm going to write more about that soon. I plan to try and blog regularly about how translating works for me, as a writer, and what I'm learning that I might be able to put into practice in my own work.

Berlin In The Cold

This morning I went out. It was kind of a dare to myself with such low temperatures. Strange, but it didn't feel any colder than it did a week ago, when it was possibly a good ten degrees warmer.

I took a couple of photos.

I like the shape of this tree.

 

When I got home, I caught my daugther doing something I've never caught her doing before. Walking round the house reading a book to herself. I say caught because, well, it's like that...

This was the book. 'This is the best reading I've ever done,' she said, grinning.

I couldn't remember where we'd bought it. She could. At the market in Amsterdam. Years ago. 'I was wrong to think I wouldn't like it.' Another grin.