The Malaysian Insider :: Books
The Malaysian Insider :: Books |
| Translator’s toil turns James Joyce opus into Chinese sellout Posted: 31 Jan 2013 06:04 AM PST SHANGHAI, Jan 31 — During the eight years it took Dai Congrong to translate "Finnegans Wake" into Chinese, she read numerous versions of the dictionary, took voluminous notes, and fought off despair and opposition from her husband.  Irish novelist and poet James Joyce. — AFP pic "It was dull and depressing during the first two years," the 41-year-old literature professor at Shanghai's Fudan University told Reuters. "I was also starting to have doubts about the project because I'd spent two years on the book but not a single word was translated." A seasoned translator of books about culture and identity, Dai, who taught herself English, first started reading Finnegans Wake — a massive experimental novel notorious for its difficulty and convoluted prose — while at university. Research into Joyce as part of her doctorate followed, and though her academic advisor recommended Dai translate the book when she successfully defended her dissertation, its difficulty scared her off. A later invitation from a publisher she knew, though, proved irresistible, and she began. Joyce's frequent use of made-up words sent her poring over multiple versions of English dictionaries, making notes on every page of the book. Two years of preparation were followed by six of actual translation — in between teaching classes at the university as well as fulfilling other academic duties. There were also obstacles at home. "I have to take care of my young son. What's more, my family — especially my husband — didn't support the project," Dai said. "He thought that despite the time and energy I needed to put into it, it would not make much money because the book is too difficult for an average person." Despite everything, Dai found satisfaction in her labours. "I enjoyed the moment when I finally found the exact and appropriate translation of a word or a sentence. I now know more about Joyce and the Irish culture," she said. "I think Joyce as a person was difficult to get along with for ordinary people, but I think he is a great person and a talented one." Microbloggers on Sina Weibo, the Chinese equivalent of Twitter, lavished more praise on Dai's achievement than they did on the book itself. "Oh my God! How admirable Dai Congrong is! How was she able to continue translating one book for eight years?" wrote Yao Zhenghua. When her publisher told her that the 755-page book had sold out in three weeks, she was pleased but astonished. "Actually, the news was so unbelievable that I first thought they were wrong," she said. "It shows our people are thirsty for culture and knowledge." Dai's toil remains far from over, since she has actually translated only the first third of the book. Two more volumes are planned. "Even I don't know how long it will take to finish," she said. "But I will do my best." — Reuters |
| ‘Excuse me, do you speak English?’ Posted: 30 Jan 2013 06:07 PM PST
KLCC LRT Station, Kuala Lumpur: "Excuse me, do you speak English?" In waking from my reverie on various theories diagnosing the causes behind the abysmal mess that is my beloved city's public transportation system, I realised I am being addressed by a couple of tourists. A middle-aged couple, likely American from their accent, perhaps even New York, though I couldn't really be certain; I never won any prizes for these guess-their-nationality contests my friends are so fond of when trapped in trains during rush hour. "Yes," I answered honestly and helpfully. "Could you tell us how to get to Mass-Jite Jam-Eek? We can't figure out this confounded map."
"Well, that seems easy enough! Thank you, dear. Say, are you Malaysian? You don't speak like a local. It's almost as though English is your first language." "I suppose you could say that. And yes, I am Malaysian." "Really? You speak really well, dear." "Thank you, how kind of you to say so. And may I ask, is English your first language?" "Of course! What a question!" They looked amused. "Oh, I don't know. I would no more assume that a Caucasian could speak English than I would assume an Asian could not." They didn't ask me any more questions after that. "I never got to kick my friend in the balls. I politely declined the offer." ~ Stephen Kelman, Mumbai: Before the Monsoon (Better Than Fiction) Odeonsplatz U-Bahn, Munich: She entered the train when it stopped at Odeonsplatz, at precisely 17:40 as it was scheduled to. Subway trains in Germany always arrived on time, unless they did not (which meant they were early, and the passengers would wait patiently until they were scheduled to depart). I didn't notice her at first, with the usual influx of passengers at this busy U-bahn station. Very soon though, I noticed how, as everyone grabbed a seat, she remained standing even though there were plenty of seats free. She was in the centre of the carriage, but she did not lean against the pole; she simply held it. Her posture was straight and sure; she commanded attention. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. Imagine a sultry Sharon Stone married with the vulnerability of a younger Brooke Shields. She had tied her blond locks back in a careless bun yet she exuded glamour. And she was crying. Well, perhaps not actual outright crying; there was no sound of sobbing or chest-heaving. Still her tears found tracks down across her cheeks. She stood emotionless but for the silent weeping. I had never seen anyone cry in public, not like that. She possessed a quiet dignity and a quiet strength. It occurred to me that she wasn't holding the pole as much as she was holding on to it. My first instinct was to ask her if she was okay (even though it was quite apparent she wasn't). But how do you comfort a stranger, when you can barely speak her language, when you are a stranger yourself in a country where most people don't even socialise after work? Do I ask her, "Entschuldigen Sie bitte, sprechen Sie Englisch?" Excuse me, do you speak English? I remember thinking, how hurt she must have been, to endure weeping in public, in a country where emotions were mostly reined in. Her beauty and her sadness, in an U-bahn carriage filled with strangers, made me understand for the first time that you didn't have to be alone to be lonely. She got off at Nordfriedhof, a couple of stops before mine. I didn't go after her, naturally; that would have been ridiculous. Now, years later, there is that regret, that 'what if I had'? I wonder, is she still riding the subways somewhere, a silent weeping statue? I hope she is happier and that her tears are of joy these days. "Ever forward we keep moving – people and countries, the world over." ~ Keija Parssinen, Among Saudi Sands (Better Than Fiction) Better Than Fiction: True Travel Tales from Great Fiction Writers, edited by Don George (Lonely Planet Publications, 2012) * Kenny still remembers the names of most U-Bahn stops, as though it was just yesterday when he travelled on the Munich subway when it's actually been more than 10 years. Read more of his stories at Life for Beginners |
KUALA LUMPUR, Jan 31 ― "Good afternoon. Good morning. How are you? Do you speak English? Give me money!" ~ Marina Lewycka, Off the Beaten Track in Malawi (Better Than Fiction)
"Masjid Jamek? Sure," I replied and showed them how it was a mere three stops away.| You are subscribed to email updates from The Malaysian Insider :: Books To stop receiving these emails, you may unsubscribe now. | Email delivery powered by Google |
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