Janis Krumins' Words on my BBB Story . . .

Bridge in Riga
Official Latvian Tourism Portal

Janis Krumins of Latvia - a new online friend - has finished reading my story, The Bottomless Bottle of Beer, and had a few words to relate:

I finished reading your book. It was very enjoyable. I like the flow your language, I like ambiguity. As someone noted in Amazon review, there is something Umberto Eco-ish about your book. I think there is one difference though. Eco uses his countless references to confuse while you use them to clarify things.

Ah! That's why I got lost in Eco's amazing novel, The Name of the Rose! Maybe I also got lost in my own novel story, for I expect I've missed some of my own references . . .

One can tell that you are a person with extensive knowledge of art and culture and I guess I missed some (or most) of your allegories and references and maybe that's why resolution of book was not quite what I expected. I guess I am taking things too literally:)

Unexpected . . . as in disappointing? Or possibly . . . surprising? Maybe even astonishing? At least I am gratified to see that my literary allusions give the illusion that I'm knowledgeable.

Anyway, having fun comes before "getting everything right". Right? Great work and please let me know when you publish your next work.

Fun is the catchword, the crucial element, the rare experience! I hope it was truly fun . . .

PS. And thank you for promoting image of Latvia!

Happy to! I've here tried to do so again!

My Kids Wondered How I Looked When I Was Young . . .

. . . so I 'shewed' them my Baylor ID from my senior year. Ah, 1979, that was a different era. No, not B.C., A.D.! I also had to affirm the A.D. date of the photo to my children, for whom this old picture of a young 'Dad' proved a big surprise. I look like a 'wildman'! Anyway . . . from those yesterdays back when I was young.

Hmmm . . . from a closer look, I now see that the ID should have been wiped clean before my kids made this photo of my photo . . .

UPDATE: See what my friend Kevin Kim has to say on this.

Translation: Substance and Flow in the Workshop Last Week

Source: Literature Translation Institute of Korea
Korea Herald

I was somewhat surprised -- but more delighted -- to see an article on translation summarizing the insights of various speakers in last week's translation workshop held in conjunction with the Seoul International Book Fair. The article, by Kim Hoo-ran, was titled "Lost in translation?" (Korea Herald, June 26, 2014) and quoted or paraphrased many speakers, including me:

Horace Jeffery Hodges of Ewha Womans University, who translates as a team with his wife, shed light on the aim of translation: To ensure that the telling of the story flows well in English even as it preserves the meaning of the Korean original.

This paraphrase on my remark comes remarkably close to a quote, for I said this:

Important is that the story flow well enough in English even as it preserves the meaning of the Korean original.

Anyway, that's probably the most sensible thing I said in my keynote address, and I'm proud to have my near words reflected in the article.

For far better advice from other speakers, read the entire article!

Eerily Reminiscent of the Sewol Captain's Order?

Asiana Flight 241
Photo by Marcio Jose Sanchez (AP)
Mashable
H/T Big Hominid

Remember Asiana Flight 241? July 6, 2013? The airplane that crash-landed at the San Francisco Airport? According to Brian Ries, "NTSB Blames Pilots in July 2013 Asiana Airlines Crash" (Mashable, July 24, 2014), the pilot gave a strange order:

The NTSB credited the aircraft's flight attendants for initiating the evacuation, overriding the pilot's orders to wait.

If true, this is eerily reminiscent of the Sewol captain's order that passengers remain waiting in their cabins. I won't make a cultural critique of this, as if this had to do with something unique about Korean culture. No, I think it's universal code for "We don't know what the f**k we're doing, so don't move till someone arrives who does know."

Fortunately, the flight attendants did know what to do . . .

Kind Words from Professor Kim Seong-kon, LTI Korea President

Professor Kim Seong-kon

President, LTI Korea

Wikipedia

Professor Kim Seong-kon (SNU) is the man who invited me to give the keynote address at the The 13th International Workshop for Translation and Publication of Korean Literature, a workshop held in conjunction with the Seoul International Book Fair, and since I wasn't sure that my talk had succeeded on the level of humor, wrote to Professor Kim to 'subtly' inquire:

I didn't find the opportunity to thank you for last Friday, so I'll try to do so now.

I very much enjoyed the entire workshop, and I also learned a lot (because I'm very ignorant, as everyone knows by now).

I hope that my presentation was entertaining, as well as possibly informative. I expected more smiles and even laughter, but humor doesn't always cross boundaries well (hence my 'warning' of what was to come).

That was my first experience giving a keynote address, so I was a bit unsure of whether I succeeded or flamed out.

I wish I had as much confidence as the Frenchman who spoke his mind rather than read his paper. That was impressive!

Thanks again for the truly new experience.

Professor Kim wrote back promptly:

And thanks to you, too! Your presence at the Workshop brightened the occasion and your keynote speech was humorous and entertaining, not to mention informative and insightful.

As you know, Koreans are often reclusive and reluctant to express their feelings. Hence, they seldom laugh upon hearing a joke or a humorous anecdote. Instead, they are just amused and smile quietly.

Thank you so much for your excellent keynote address. I was quite humored and learned a lot from it.

Well, that's a relief -- and actually rather pleasant to hear. From now on, all my keynote speeches will be about my ignorance.

It's a vast topic . . .

ISIL: Convert or Die . . . or Ransom Your Own Life!

Christians Vanishing from Iraq
Photograph by Matthew Fisher
Postmedia News

From Raqqa in Syria to Mosul in Iraq, the advancing Sunni Islamist group ISIL (or ISIS) threatens not only Shia Muslims but also Christians, as reported by Matthew Fisher in "Convert to Islam or face the sword, Iraqi Christians told by Sunni extremists" (Postmedia News June 22, 2014):

Convert to Islam or face the sword . . . . was the stark message Christians in the Syrian city of Raqqa received last year when ultra-fundamentalist Sunni extremists, proclaiming themselves . . . members of the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant (ISIL), seized power and launched a reign of terror against Shiites and Christians that has included beheadings and at least three crucifixions . . . . [Because they were a]ware of ISIL's ferocious reputation for murder and mayhem, thousands of Christians who lived in Mosul and the surrounding Nineveh Plain fled in panic when ISIL rebels captured Iraq's second largest city from government forces on June 10 . . . . They all feared persecution at the hands of the insurgents who had suddenly arrived in their midst because they follow a harsh 7th century interpretation of the Qur'an that demands not only that women mostly stay indoors, but that church bells must never be rung, crosses must never be displayed and Christians must pay a “gold tax” in return for their lives.

From the article itself, we see that the title is somewhat misleading. The choice of conversion or beheading was given by the ISIL in Raqqa, Syria, but not in Mosul, Iraq, where payment of a "gold tax" guarantees one's life, if one can trust the ISIL in such arrangements.

Incidentally, that "harsh 7th century interpretation of the Qur'an" is simply Islamic law, period.

EWIS = Ewha Writing-Intensive School - Begins Wednesday, June 25

EWIS Work During a Previous EWIS Course
EPO

Now that the excitement of the workshop at the Seoul International Book Fair is over, I'm back to the daily grind, but I enjoy teaching EWIS to graduate students, for they really appreciate advice on writing. Here's what I'm doing starting Wednesday:

Syllabus

Ewha Writing Intensive School
Horace Jeffery Hodges

We will meet four days (M-Th) per week from 9 to 12 each day for four weeks (June 25 - July 22), with two short breaks every day dividing each class time into three sessions, 1) Discussion, 2) Lesson on Writing Skills, and 3) In-Class Writing Practice, as shown below:

Time: 3 hours and an optional office hour. (4 days a week: 4 weeks)

Daily Schedule

1st hour

Discussion
Analysis of Writing Samples:
Magazines, Journals, Books, etc.

2nd hour

Lecture on Writing Skills
Lessons on the Mechanics of Writing:
Grammar/Syntax/Structure/
Organization/Style/Coherency/
Analysis of Student Writings.

3rd hour

In-Class Writing Practice
Application of Lessons:
Outline and Draft Creation/Peer
editing/Instructor feedback/
Review of Student Writings.

Office Hour (optional)

One on One feedback
This is an optional session. Students can visit the instructor for a brief individual session.

(Note short breaks between class sessions)
We will not rigidly adhere to this schedule, but remain flexible enough to meet students’ needs.

Week 1: Sentences and Paragraphs

Wordiness
The Argumentative Edge
The Thesis Machine
Introductory Paragraph
Middle Paragraph
Concluding Paragraph

Reading for Discussion: To Be Announced Later

Week 2: Entire Essay

Complete Essay
The Need for Novelty

Reading for Discussion: "Korean Identity" - Hodges (10 pages)

Week 3: Entire Essay with Citations and Bibliography

Reading for Discussion: "Points Toward a Culture of Discussion" - Hodges (16 pages)

Week 4: Entire Essay with Citations and Bibliography

Reading for Discussion: "Points Toward a Culture of Discussion" - Hodges (16 pages)

The aim of the course will be to work on a research paper with either MLA style or APA style (though science students can use the ASA style). Googling "OWL Purdue" will introduce you to these styles.

Materials for Course:

There will be no textbook, but handouts will be provided. You will need to bring a laptop computer to class each day (keep the batteries charged) since we will work every day on writing. From each student, I will need an email address.

My Qualifications:

If I'm allowed to exaggerate, I've been teaching writing for nearly 40 years! At seventeen, I was once asked by my high school English teacher to grade and correct the essays for his tenth grade class. My career perhaps started then, but I didn't work as grader and corrector of essays again until my senior year at Baylor University, when I was twenty-one and worked for two semesters doing that. I left Baylor with a BA in English literature, but studied history at UC Berkeley for my MA and PhD. As a graduate student, I taught undergraduates from the time I was 23 until I finished my doctorate, and I've been teaching writing courses regularly ever since.

I've tried to find time to write a bit myself, and I've published over thirty articles in the humanities (using MLA, APA, and CMS styles), around twenty-five poems, about five short stories, and one novella. In my pursuit of graduate and postdoctoral studies on various scholarships, e.g., Fulbright, Friedrich Naumann, and Golda Meir fellowships, I have also done a lot of writing, primarily academic pieces. I have worked editing my wife's translations of Korean literature on grants offered by the Korea Literature Translation Institute, along with other editing work for various scholarly journals, all of which entails a lot of rewriting other people's work. Finally, I have worked for the Daesan Foundation as a judge of Korean literature in English translation, which requires me to offer some editorial remarks about translations that need some touching up.

Those are my qualifications, I reckon . . .

And I have to prepare myself for Wednesday, which explains why I'm posting on this today . . .

An Old Ozark Friend's Remarks . . .

Deva

My old Ozark friend Deva responded to my report on my keynote address with effusive praise (overpraise, actually):

You do such incredible things! I can barely speak English. In fact, recently one of the reviewers for a course assignment that I turned in said I should work with a native speaker until I developed a better grasp of the language. He would have been amused to know that one of my primary job responsibilities is to take broken English and make it into professional reports.

Her anecdote reminds me of my first foreign experience, when I was living in Switzerland. I didn't learn much French or German, but I did manage to forget a lot of English. Anyway, she then added:

I'm honored to know such an intellectual as you are.

This, from a woman who was sort of awarded last year's Nobel Peace Prize! If she only knew my actual worth(lessness) . . . Anyway, I replied:

You are the incredible one. I've been impressed by you ever since I've became aware of your existence . . . which was quite early. You have seen and done things beyond my ken!

I wish I had known you better during our Ozark years, but I was somewhat of a loner. I was always heading off on my own into the wilds, or pedaling my way along back roads on my bicycle, forever seeking some high spot from which I could study the lay of the land . . .

I hope I get to see you again in this life - just in case there isn't another one . . .

Meanwhile, the quotidian world allures me with its siren call . . . "Wash the dishes," it implores . . .

Prefatory Remarks to Friday's Keynote Address

Thanking Everyone
Photo by Annie Cho

My colleague Annie Cho attended my keynote address Friday and took a picture to prove she was present, though this photo was a few minutes after I had thanked everybody:

True Translation – Prefatory Remarks

I'd like to offer a few words of thanks:

I'd first like to thank the LTI Korea President, Professor Kim Seong-Kon, for inviting me to give this keynote address.

I'd then like to thank the Literature Translation Institute of Korea itself for its support, not only at today's workshop but also in supplying translation grants to my wife and me over the past few years.

I'd also like to thank the Dalkey Archive Press for its professionalism and its role in publicizing Korean literature.

And I'd finally like to thank everyone in attendance today.

Additionally, I want to let everyone know that my talk is officially intended to focus attention on today’s theme of "The Role of Translators and Literary Agents in Globalizing Korean Literature" but is unofficially intended to be "about educating and nurturing culture and literature translators[, drawing upon my] . . . . experience and ideas about . . . practically working as a translator." Well, I will attempt to carry out both of these serious imperatives, albeit in a lighthearted way that attempts a bit of humor, but I realize that humor often doesn't cross cultural boundaries well, so if I say something that sounds strange, please forgive me, for it was probably meant to be humorous, and please feel free to laugh.

There weren't as many laughs as I'd expected, though Annie says she laughed:

Did you see me? Did you hear me laugh? I think I laughed 3 times. I got there at 10 a.m. and sat in the back and snuck out after the 2nd speaker. Sorry I was unable to say hello or meet your wife! The back of her head looked very nice :)

Great job with the speech! I'll see you next week!

She laughed only three times? Why not three times thirty-three? Annie! You were supposed to set the pace . . .

My Keynote Address at the Seoul International Book Fair

Keynote Address

As you know, I gave my keynote address yesterday, so I'm posting it today for the benefit of all you who couldn't make the live event - not that I'm now dead, mind you! Anyway, here it is:

True Translation?

Ignōrō et Ignōrā́bō!

Horace Jeffery Hodges

The 13th International Workshop

for

Translation and Publication of Korean Literature

The Role of Translators and Literary Agents

in

Globalizing Korean Literature

Introduction

When the LTI Korea asked me to give this keynote address at today's workshop on the role of translators and literary agents, I protested that I really don't know anything about literary agents. Nor particularly about their role in globalizing Korean literature. Nor, I admitted, am I truly a translator. My wife Hwang Sun-Ae is the translator. She is the one who translates Korean into English. I'm simply the "transformer." I transform her English translation into more idiomatic English. I suggested that my wife were better qualified to give this talk, but no, the LTI wanted me. I therefore infer that my ignorance performs some important service here today.

Not a Translator?

Perhaps I could legitimately call myself a "translator" after all, based on the fact that I am part of a translation team, somewhat like the Frenchman Jean Bellemin-Noël, who works with Choe Ae-young, as I learned from the Korea Herald reporter Claire Lee in her article "French-Korean duo shares art of co-translating." I found the article interesting because Ms. Lee presented a summary of the duo's working method, and I quote:

Together, [Bellemin-Noël and Choe] . . . have developed an original, effective process of co-translating. First, Choe translates the entire Korean text [in]to French, with a long list of footnotes that contain explanations of cultural context, synonyms of major words, and alternative ways of interpreting the text. Bellemin-Noël then revises the first draft and rewrites the text into more refined French, taking Choe's footnotes into consideration. Then the "talk" begins. "From this stage we wouldn't use my first translated draft at all," Choe said. "We'd discuss extensively comparing the original Korean text and the second translated version[,] which has been revised by Dr. Bellemin-Noël, for the final copy that would compromise [between] the two drafts."

Bellemin-Noël said [that al]though the two discuss their work in a "cheerful mood" 90 percent of the time, the mood can get very tense for the remaining 10 percent. [As Choe also explained,] "I try to keep the original context of the Korean text as much as possible[,] while Dr. Bellemin-Noël brings the perspective of French readers . . . . This process requires a lot of compromising and tough decisions."

This description of their translating process interests me for its similarities and differences with the process that my wife and I work through in our own translation efforts. Moreover, according to Ms. Lee, "Bellemin-Noël has almost no knowledge of the Korean language," which I find quite heartening, personally, since I'm in the same position of ignorance. Anyway, our process is somewhat different. Sun-Ae has a doctorate in German literature but translates into serviceable English that gets better with each passing year. I rework her translation, trying to reword it with an ear to literary quality in English. Sun-Ae then reads my reworked version, checking for mistakes of understanding on my part, which she and I then discuss. Afterwards, I re-read the text very carefully, listening for awkward expressions, which I rework. Sun-Ae re-reads after that, checking again that the translation remain true to the original Korean, and we discuss any difficulties.

What strikes me as a significant difference between our method and theirs is the degree of informality to ours. I think that ours is less formal because we're a married couple and work five feet apart at desks facing one another, an arrangement that allows us to query each other any time either of us encounters a translation problem. Perhaps you can now clearly comprehend why I generally don't call myself a translator. As already noted, I think of myself as a "transformer," for I take the English text given to me by Sun-Ae and transform it into a literary English text. But I notice that Ms. Choe calls Mr. Bellemin-Noël "my co-translator," and the author of the article, Ms. Lee, refers to Choe and Bellemin-Noël as "Korean-French translators." The point that comes home to me is that since Mr. Bellemin-Noël can be called a "translator" despite the fact, as just noted, that he "has almost no knowledge of the Korean language," then perhaps I could also pose as a translator. But I can't quite own the label, for I do not truly translate, and am thus too inexperienced and therefore too ignorant of translating to call myself a translator.

Checking the Dictionary

But I hate to remain entirely ignorant, so I've tried to learn a bit about translation for this talk. From delving into the Oxford English Dictionary (OED, Vol. 2, 1971), I've learned that the word "translation" has two broad meanings. The first broad meaning given in the OED for translation dates to around 1350:

Transference; removal or conveyance from one person, place, or condition to another.

Why – I realized – I could do that! Indeed, I can do it right now. There's a book. I will 'translate' it before your very eyes. From there . . . to here. I have now translated . . . let's see . . . ah, Yi Kwang-su's novel The Soil. And the cover states: "A novel translated by Hwang Sun-Ae and Horace Jeffery Hodges." Well, that was easy.

Less easy is another, variant use of the word "translation" – as we see by again checking in the ever useful OED:

Removal from earth to heaven, originally without death, as the translation of Enoch; but in later use also said figuratively of the death of the righteous.

I'm pretty sure I'd never, ever qualify as that sort of translator! Nor would I even want to excel at this following kind of "translation":

Transference of a disease from one person or part of the body to another.

Thankfully, that type of translation is – according to the OED – "[n]ow rare or obsolete." Great to hear that scientific medicine has made such wonderful advances!

Now, the examples given so far all fit the dictionary's first broad meaning – a meaning that I find congenial – but there's a second broad meaning of "translation" to consider:

The action or process of turning from one language into another; also, the product of this; a version in a different language.

Ah, yes. This is what my wife does. This broad meaning dates to around 1340, so it's actually about a decade earlier than the first broad meaning already discussed. I cannot do this second sort of translating, a point that I already made clear at the outset of this talk, but let's talk about it anyway.

A Middle English Hermit on Literal

and

Sensible Translations

The writer cited as referring to the term "translation" in this second sense was Richard Rolle of Hampole, a wandering hermit who in 1340 translated the Psalter, a collection of Old Testament psalms, from Latin into English, more precisely, into Middle English:

In Þe translacioun i folow Þe lettere als mykyll as i may. And Þare i fynd na propire ynglis i folow Þe wit of Þe worde, swa Þat Þai Þat sall red it Þaim Þare noght dred errynge.

There are two sentences here. Hampole in the first is saying this:

In Þe translacioun i folow Þe lettere als mykyll as i may.

In the translation, I follow the letter as much as I may.

In other words, Hampole follows a literal translation, which I also have done here in following his words, as is easily seen if one recognizes the letter "thorn" ("Þ") as "th" and the odd word "mykyll" as "much." But Hampole in the second sentence acknowledges the limits of literal translation, as I will also demonstrate:

And Þare i fynd na propire ynglis i folow Þe wit of Þe worde, swa Þat Þai Þat sall red it Þaim Þare noght dred errynge.

And there I find no proper English, I follow the wit of the word so that they that shall read it, them there not dread erring.

The literal rendering fails us here, so we ought to follow the "wit," i.e., the sense:

And Þare i fynd na propire ynglis i folow Þe wit of Þe worde, swa Þat Þai Þat sall red it Þaim Þare noght dred errynge.

(And there I find no proper English, I follow the wit of the word so that they that shall read it, them there not dread erring.)

And where I find no proper English, I follow the sense of the word so that those who read it need not fear to err.

We thus see Hampole working with two implicit theories of translation: word-for-word (literal) and sense-for-sense (sensible, i.e., meaningful). The former would of course never work between such unrelated, widely divergent tongues as Korean and English, for the substance, or meaning, would be lost, so I don't doubt that literal translation from Korean to English finds very few advocates.

A Humorous Interlude

Literal translations also often fail even for related tongues. Consider the Czech Budweiser, an excellent lager beer that already sold well in nineteenth-century America. A nineteenth-century American brewer therefore 'translated' this fine Czech beer into American Budweiser, a weak, watery, yellow fizzy liquid hardly deserving comparison with the excellent Czech lager. In short, the substance of Budweiser was lost even though the name remained literally the same. As we see on this PowerPoint slide, the American Budweiser is thus a 'LITERally pour' translation of the original Czech Budweiser . . . and, yes, I'm joking. A poor pun. My apologies. Humor never translates well across cultures.

Translation is Treason?

But I do have a serious point. The substance, or meaning, is what the true translator seeks to express in the target language. Take for example the Korean literary use of six dots (. . . . . .) in dialogue to denote when a speaker expected to speak says nothing. Let’s look at a scene from Yi Kwang-su's novel The Soil, specifically, the scene in which the dissolute man Gap-jin speaks to the adulterous Jeong-seon, ridiculing the fact that her husband, the righteous Heo Sung, has forgiven them both for their affair and has even burned an incriminating letter that Gap-jin sent to Jeong-seon:

Gap-jin laughed at the thought and chattered on for a while. At one point, however, he suddenly appeared to recall something. "Oh, right, what did that fool say to you?" Gap-jin's face now showed some concern.

. . . . . .

"If he makes a fuss, just come to me."

. . . . . .

"I'm not sure he really burnt the letter. If he really did, great, but if he hasn't, we might face a problem." (pages 310-311)

You may disagree with me, but I don't think those dots work well in translation, and not solely because foreign readers won't know what they signify, for I do know what the dots mean and find them nevertheless unaesthetic. Let's fill in those excessive ellipses:

Gap-jin laughed at the thought and chattered on for a while. At one point, however, he suddenly appeared to recall something. "Oh, right, what did that fool say to you?" Gap-jin's face now showed some concern.

Jeong-seon didn't answer.

"If he makes a fuss, just come to me."

She remained silent.

"I'm not sure he really burnt the letter. If he really did, great, but if he hasn't, we might face a problem." (pages 310-311)

There. That looks better, at least to me, though I'm curious how true translators deal with this Korean literary convention.

Taking Liberties with the Text?

Some might argue that translators shouldn't take too many liberties with a text, and I agree – "too many" is always "too much," but where do we draw the line in changing a text? Consider the following passage in which the adulterous Jeong-seon asks her servant, Yu-wol, if "the master of Jaetgol" – the dissolute Gap-jin – had visited while she (Jeong-seon) was gone to her husband's village, Salyeoul:

"Did the master of Jaetgol come to visit often while I was gone to Salyeoul?" She was seeking clues from Yu-wol's response.

"Oh, yes, he came day and night," she answered . . .

The problem is that Jeong-seon had twice visited Salyeoul, the first time many months before for a duration of two months, but the second time very, very recently for only a couple of days. I initially thought Jeong-seon was referring to the second time, so I was baffled to read that Gap-jin had visited "day and night" in her brief absence! My wife was likewise baffled by this when I consulted her, but after discussing the matter at length, we finally realized that the first trip to Salyeoul was meant, and all the plotted pieces fell into place. To forestall readers' possible misunderstanding, I therefore tweaked the text a bit:

"Did the master of Jaetgol come to visit often while I was gone to Salyeoul for those two months?" She was seeking clues from Yu-wol's response.

"Oh, yes, he came day and night," she answered . . . (page 328)

I trust that this added bit of clarification wouldn't be considered as taking "too many" liberties with the text.

But I have taken greater liberties with texts. Korean readers seem to be far more comfortable with ambiguity than are English-speaking readers. Or is this just me? Either or, I've sometimes even reversed the order of two paragraphs to eliminate ambiguity, and I am certain that I've done so in Yi Kwang-su's novel The Soil, but I can no longer recall specifically where, so I have no example to offer, but if any of you happen to read The Soil and notice such a reversal, then please let me know, that I might provide an example the next time I am asked to give a talk like this one. At any rate, my aim is ever to ensure that the telling of the story flows well in English even as it preserves the meaning of the Korean original.

Zeno's Literary Paradox

On this point about ensuring that the telling of the story flows well in English, let me offer an insight, and I apologize in advance for what might be a tedious recounting, but that very tedium will serve to drive my point home. Striving for the perfect translation, like proofreading to eliminate every error, is a never-ending process reminiscent of Zeno's Paradoxes: one gets closer and closer to the aimed-for translation, yet never arrives. Here is my tedious example. Sometime prior to the copyediting stage, I had worked out what I considered a final version of the following passage in Yi Kwang-su's novel The Soil:

The train was running on the steel bridge of Salyeoul Village. "Salyeoul! How lovely is that name!" Sung looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. Dark water still wore the summer night. As his eyes followed its course upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible. Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, one of the most evocative beauties of nature. (page 10)

That sounded pretty good, I thought, but sometime between the crafting of that passage and the time for copyediting, I had second thoughts. For instance, take this part: "Salyeoul! How lovely is that name!" I'd now be tempted to remove "is": "Salyeoul! How lovely that name!" Or rewrite these words: "Dark water still wore the summer night." I might now try: "The dark water was still clothed in summer night." I could do much the same with every line. From: "As his eyes followed its course upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible." To: "As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible." And from: "Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, one of the most evocative beauties of nature." To: "Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature." Combining these, along with still other alterations, including small changes in already altered phrases, I arrived at this:

The train was crossing the steel bridge near Salyeoul Village. "Salyeoul! How lovely that name!" Sung looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. The dark depths were still clothed in summer night. As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible. Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature.

Unfortunately, by the time I turned in this revision, the deadline for editing had passed. I kicked myself mentally for being so tardy! But I have since grown more philosophical about the changes, for you will see how my experience begins to recall Zeno's – and what could be more philosophical than that? – as I find myself wanting to keep reworking the passage, e.g., "Salyeoul! How lovely the name!" And this: "As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the valley's milky-white fog, more typical of early autumn, grew visible." And maybe this: "Over moisture-soaked soil and softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature." These changes provide us with another, slightly revised passage:

The train was crossing the steel bridge near Salyeoul Village. "Salyeoul! How lovely the name!" Sung looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. The dark depths were still clothed in summer night. As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the valley's milky-white fog, more typical of early autumn, grew visible. Over moisture-soaked soil and softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature.

Is that better or worse? At a certain, albeit uncertain point in such revisions, distinguishing aesthetically among them becomes difficult, if not impossible, so try to keep in mind that the translation need not be perfect. Important is that the story flow well enough in English (or other target language) even as it preserves the meaning of the Korean original, and that dual objective should perhaps be the aim of translators in their role as 'globalizers' of Korean literature.

Stochastic Processes

But as necessary as both flow and meaning together are, neither of them is sufficient in getting readers' attention. There's a large element of chance at work. My own interest in Korean literature illustrates this truth. I have previously told this story of my encounter with it, but the story may be worth recalling here anyway:

My first encounter with Korean literature came through a roundabout process that started in 1992. I was sitting on a train in Germany discussing literature with a Korean woman whom I had just happened to meet, having by chance sat down beside her. Specifically, we were talking about The Man without Qualities, the famous novel by the Austrian writer Robert Musil, and our discussion was so fascinating, we decided to get married and continue the conversation. Of course, I didn't tell her about 'our' decision for another year and a half.

She lived in Munich and I in Tübingen, but we took turns visiting nearly every weekend, and for three years in Germany, our conversation continued, as it had begun, in German, a second language for us both. However, I determined to become acquainted with Korean literature in English translation, so I asked her for a book to read. She managed to obtain a copy of Ch'oe In-hun's early novel, A Grey Man, which I read slowly in an attempt to gain as much insight as possible into Korean culture. Ironically, the protagonist was a man 'without qualities' wavering in the 1950s between Christianity and Communism, which I took to mean the choice between right or left, South or North, and I suppose I was correct. I attributed that political issue to the temporal setting of Korea in the fifties. Little did I realize that South Koreans would still be stuck on this dilemma [even today]. ("Encountering Korean Literature: A Personal Journey," _list: Books from Korea, Vol. 20, Summer 2013)

That, however, is getting ahead of my story. Sun-Ae and I married in 1995, and we were settled for good in Korea by 1999 as I gradually left the field of religious studies due to bad luck in the job market and began teaching English in Korea. But I only slowly turned to Korean literature when I happened by chance to be recommended by a friend to evaluate English translations of Korean literature for the Daesan Foundation, and I discovered what Korean literature had to offer. I was particularly impressed with Park Wan-suh's autobiographical novel, Who Ate Up All the Shinga, translated by Yu Youngnan and Stephen Epstein, and I also helped select the Daesan Foundation's 2009 Translation Prize awarded to Bruce and Ju-Chan Fulton for their translation of Ch'oe Yun's story selection There a Petal Silently Falls: Three Stories by Ch'oe Yun. About that same time, my wife and I ourselves were already – after a chance private request – also getting deeply into translation work, some of it sponsored by the LTI Korea, not only Yi Gwang-su's novel The Soil, but also Jang Jung-il's selection of stories When Adam Opens His Eyes. You can now perhaps see what a large role chance has played in my encounter with – but also in my growing fascination for – Korean literature.

"Le hasard ne favorise que les esprits prepares"

I therefore suppose that one way to globalize Korean literature is to increase the chances of people taking notice of it. Not everyone will meet a Korean on a train and fall in love, nor will every Korean author be as lucky as Shin Kyung-sook was in having her book Please Look After Mom recommended by Oprah Winfrey for her popular and very influential book club. But the Korea Wave has also gotten people interested in Korea, and some are likely to notice Korean literature and give it a chance if it's brought closely enough to their attention. I believe that the LTI Korea has had the right idea in bringing out translations in series combining classics of modern literature with lesser known contemporary works, for such a combination garners more interest and extra publicity. From my own interest in following the reviews of The Soil, I have seen that the series has brought attention to Yi Kwang-su's novel from some who had never before heard of him, and also that Yi Kwang-su's high literary status has brought attention to the series by those who have heard of him. That status likely played a role in World Literature Today's recognition of The Soil as one of the 75 notable translations for 2013, as well as catching the eye of the Times Literary Supplement in a recent review of the series. Moreover, the LTI Korea has made an excellent choice in selecting Dalkey Archive Press as publisher for the series, for they have also done a wonderful job toward the goal of globalizing Korean literature.

A Short but Sweet Conclusion

All in all, I believe we're at the opening of a grand golden age for Korean literature. But don't take my word for it – go ask a true translator!

And that's all, folks!

English Program Office Professors Posing Before the Ewha Campus Complex

Posed Before ECC
See Google Images
See Dominique Perrault Site

We had just proctored final exams Wednesday and were on our way to eat in the local Baita Italian restaurant when one of us who's leaving decided to have a photo made as an Ewha student was conveniently passing by and got waylaid into snapping the picture for us.

In case you don't recognize me, I'm on the right wing of the picture from your perspective and the penultimate person standing there, the man squinting into the sun.

That's all for today, for I'm off to present my 'keynote' address . . .

Ken Weaver of RateBeer on Bottle Openers

Opener
All About Beer Magazine

Ken Weaver, of RateBeer Weekly, has just published a piece on the underrated and often overlooked but quintessential bottle opener in All About Beer Magazine. Titled "Opening Act: Prying into the History of Bottle Openers" (All About Beer Magazine, Volume 35, Issue 2, June 9, 2014), the article is also about bottle caps:

[O]n Nov. 5, 1889, . . . [William] Painter submitted the first in a series of three patent applications for a "bottle-sealing device." A second was filed in June of 1890, and the third (and most important) was filed just shy of one year later. All three shared a similar core design: a sealing medium in the form of a thin disk or plug, affixed firmly to the top of a bottle via a crimped metallic disk. The sealer was inexpensive, reliable, disposable (a total mind-blower at the time) and firmly attached. All three versions were accepted Feb. 2, 1892. The device was originally called the "crown cork."

One can, in a historically unlikely way, imagine the fallout in the subsequent months: a chorus of bottle caps knocked against stumps, countless visits to the dentist. Not exactly . . . . Painter's second submission . . . offered a visual solution for getting the thing off. A dotted, crowbarlike device appears in the drawings, hooked atop an affixed cap. "Bottle-openers devised by me of the character indicated and adapted to the removal of sealing-caps by engaging with their projecting edges," Painter reflects, "will be made the subject of one or more separate applications for Letters Patent." The modern bottle opener had been born.

Thank God! Else all that newly bottled beer with metal caps would have remained inaccessible even today! Prior to the metal cap, Weaver tells us, "glass beer bottles were generally sealed with either a fastened cork or a Lightning-type closure" of the type still used on champagne bottles today.

Cork? Just like in my story? Except for the fastenings . . .

Incidentally, what first caught my eye in the above photo was the top quarter of the image, which was all I could initially see as I slowly scrolled down, thinking, "What sort of photograph has Mr. Weaver posted now -- even if alcohol is an adult subject!"

Just scroll until only the top quarter or so of the photo is visible, and you'll see what I mean.

Kind Email from Latvia!

Latvia

Wikipedia

Last week, a man named Janis Krumins asked if I would put his rhyme desk on my blog roll, so I did -- and I also blogged on his request. He, in turn, was very understanding of my attempts at wit, and posted the following email in reply:

Thank you for your support and your witty reply in your blog. English is my third language and I have lots of room for improvement:)

I would guess his second language is Russian. His first is presumably Latvian (or Lettish), but he is linguistically bold, for he's going to read my book:

I have ordered your book. It looks interesting - I like Bulgakov and Dostoevsky is currently my favorite writer, so I hope I will enjoy your book as well.

I hope so, too, or we'll both be embarrassed! But a good beer would settle everything:

As you correctly noted I live in Latvia. If you ever come to Riga, please let me know, I would be very happy to meet you in person. Some of Latvian beers are very good;)

I probably won't make it to Riga, which is a pity since it looks quite lovely:

Riga

Wikipedia

That image above would be the old town, but the new part also looks great! As you can see for yourself if you look around on Google Images . . .

Schedule for "The 13th International Workshop for Translation and Publication of Korean Literature"

LTI Korea Poster
Click Image to Enlarge

On this coming Friday, June 20, 2014, starting at 9:30 in the morning, the Literature Translation Institute of Korea (LTIK) will hold "The 13th International Workshop for Translation and Publication of Korean Literature" in Conference Room 327 on the third floor of the COEX Convention and Exhibition Center, the theme this year being "The Role of Translators and Literary Agents in Globalizing Korean Literature," and I'm to give the keynote address (10:10-10:40) even though I am hugely ignorant on this theme, as I pointed out, so the LTIK is allowing me to speak "about educating and nurturing culture and literature translators[, drawing upon my] . . . . experience and ideas about . . . practically working as a translator," and I agreed to try despite my not, technically, actually being a translator, though I am one member of a two-member translation team, my wife being the other member and coincidentally the true translator, whereas I'm merely the 'transformer,' as I will note in my 30-minute talk.

Registration is at 9:30 and is free, as is attendance at the lectures, so please attend if you have any interest in the themes mentioned above.

By the way, did you see how long that first sentence was? That'd be hell to translate . . .

Charles La Shure on Yi Kwang-su's novel The Soil

Professor Charles La Shure
Department of Korean Language and Literature
Seoul National University

An acquaintance of mine, Charles La Shure, has written a review of the LTI Korea translation project, "Korean Literature Series for English-speaking Readers" ("Library of Korean Literature," Volumes 1-10, various authors, Dalkey Archive Press, 2013), for the quarterly Koreana (Spring 2014) that mentions Yi Kwang-su's novel The Soil:

The first stage in this project is already complete, with 10 books published in November 2013; the remainder are scheduled to be published in fall this year. The series begins, at least chronologically, with a work that is often considered to be the first modern Korean novel, Yi Kwang-su's "The Soil." First serialized in a daily newspaper in 1932, the novel follows a social activist who attempts to enlighten the farming village in which he was born, bringing those who live there into the modern era. It paints a vivid picture of the social conditions in Korea during the Japanese colonial period (1910-1945), which led World Literature Today to include the work in its list of 75 Notable Translations of 2013.

I think Charles meant to say that The Soil is "considered to be [one of] the first modern Korean novel[s]," the consensus among Korean literary critics being that Yi Kwang-su's earlier novel Heartless is actually the first modern Korean novel.

No word on the quality of the translation, so I suppose that means Charles didn't hate it . . .

"Rum and Coca-Cola" and getting bombed with friends!

The Barberettes
Seoul Beats

Lately, I've been enjoying this group -- The Barberettes -- on YouTube. They do a wonderful cover of "Rum and Coca-Cola" -- from which performance is taken the above photo.

Listening to "Rum and Coca-Cola" reminded me of an old Berkeley friend because I first heard the song with her, albeit the Andrews Sisters version (not the more explicit Lord Invader version), so I sent her a link and reminded her:

First time I heard this, I was in your car. I think your friend from Hong Kong was also in the car . . .

She soon replied:

Funny how we remember things, isn't it? I have no memory of this, but you do (and I have a terrible memory!).

Speaking of memories (and booze!): was it you who introduced me to Wild Turkey Bourbon whiskey? I mentioned to Don (husband) the other day that I liked it, but I couldn't remember the first place I had tried it. Maybe in one of those slightly scary bars we used to hang out in?

I couldn't quite believe she had forgotten hearing that song with her Hong Kong friend and me, so I decided to jolt her memory:

I remember because I'd never before heard the song. I also recall you telling Annie (if that's her name) that you liked the song, and you joked that you weren't being politically correct or showing much solidarity with your third-world 'sisters.'

You then stopped the car in the middle of the road and gave a 30-minute lecture on the evils of capitalism and about how feminists should adopt Marxist views on the necessity of revolution for genuine equality. Other drivers were honking their horns and cursing you, but you didn't care! You shook your fist at them and called them running dogs of capitalism! Some of those enraged drivers jumped out and dashed over to your car and started pounding on it and shaking it. You screamed at them that you had wired a bomb to your engine and that it would be set off the next time you turned on the ignition. As the mob scattered, you rolled down your window and yelled, "That's right, run away, you running dogs, you metaphorical sons-of-bitches!"

The entire episode was quite exciting, and I'm surprised you don't remember . . . but as you say, you have a terrible memory . . .

Yes, I believe I was the one who introduced you to Wild Turkey, but that was probably my first time to drink it, too.

She quickly wrote back protesting -- a bit too much, I think -- that I was slightly exaggerating:

Harumph. Even *I* can recall that the car episode you describe didn't occur!

I'm glad we solved the Wild Turkey mystery, though . . .

Yes, my friend's name was (and is) Annie. At least that much is true!

Don't trust her on any of this, for I can trump her harumph! She claims to recall that something didn't occur! How can one recall that something did not take place? I think we can only recall what did happen!

But perhaps those with terrible memories can just make things up!

Stories are Metafictional . . . or are we less 'meta'?

Mohsin Hamid
Illustration by R. Kikuo Johnson

The NYT asks Mohsin Hamid, "How Has Parenthood Informed Your Writing Life?" (June 10, 2014), and he recounts a recent real-life interaction with his daughter and the lesson learned:

Dina specifies her nightly bedtime-story-on-demand.

Dina: Tonight I want you to tell me a story about . . . a story.

Mohsin: A story about . . . a story?

Dina: Yes.

Mohsin: There was a story. And it was very lonely. Because there was no one to hear it. So it went for a walk in the forest. . . .

(His daughter has just reminded him that all fiction is metafiction, that humans are born with the instinct to experiment with form.)

Great story beginning! And a good reminder! I recall making up stories for my kids when they were little, and they were always so caught up in the stories that they didn't distinguish between story and reality. Stories about "the bonies"' scared them, and the story about "The Bad Little Boy" had my son insisting, "En-Uk good boy!"

So, yeah, most stories are metafictional - or, rather, we, who tell and listen to stories, are less 'meta' than we think . . .

Janis Krumins's "Rhyme Desk"

Janis Krumins

Poems and Quotes

A Latvian named Janis Krumins contacted me a couple of days ago with a request:

Hi Horace,

Not a good start since I try to make clear that I go by "Jeffery." Anyway:

My name is Janis.

I wasn't sure if that name were male or female, but the site linked to above says male, assuming that's the right site. Here's what he wrote by way of introduction:

I've visited your "Gypsy Scholar" blog today and I really like it. Lots of curious articles about religions and geopolitics. Not that I agree with all of it but still interesting and informative. I highly recommend BBC documentary film "Power of Nightmares" on the topic of raise of radical Islam.

Thanks for the recommendation . . . though I have little time for watching programs. I prefer the efficiency of transcripts.

Though you won't like it, if you are a republican:)

As I see from the smilely face, that's a joke (though the "r" should be "R"). But seriously, folks, I make no assumptions about people's political leanings determining their response to my posts. One must sift truth from falsehood everywhere. Think for oneself. Complete disclosure: in my home state registry (Arkansas), I'm officially Democrat . . .

Back to the original topic I wanted to start with - I run a site with rhyming dictionary and other useful tools for writers. Here is link.

Looks interesting.

If you have a spare minute, please, check it out. Comments and suggestions for improvement would be most welcome!

Looks perfect to me . . . except the rhyming dictionary found no rhyme for "orange"! Hence also nothing for "orange juice"! Aren't you supposed to be working on that oversight?

Also I was wondering, if you would consider adding it to your list of online reference works.

By "it," you mean your "rhyming dictionary"? Sure! Happy to! Check my blogroll (right-hand margin of this blog).

Many thanks and please keep up the good work!

I'll try . . .

Janis Krumins, Webmaster

Jeffery Hodges, Wortmeister . . .

Eric Asimov Explains the Untranslatable "Terroir"

Sancerre
Serge Bloch
NYT

Grace of Eric Asimov, I finally understand the complex term "terroir," so I can now speak of it comfortably, without the hidden terror in my soul at the fear of being found out by the 'terroirists' for the ignoramus that I actually am:

It's often assumed . . . that terroir refers solely to the soil. Soil is a significant part of the equation, but terroir stands for so much more than dirt. The term, for which no English counterpart exists, embraces the microclimate of the vineyard and its elevation, its exposition to the sun and, often overlooked, the people who tend the grapes and make the wine.

You see . . . it's complicated. But that's the best summary I've come across, and I'm glad to see that Eric Asimov is again writing on wine for the New York Times, this article - "'Listening' to Sancerre Tell Its Story" (NYT, May 5, 2014) - for I've enjoyed reading his intelligent, articulate writing in the past.

Though I would have written "its exposure to the sun" . . . unless that betrays some ignorance on my part concerning viticultural vocabulary.

The 13th International Workshop for Translation and Publication of Korean Literature

SIBF Logo 1

For interested readers who live in or near Seoul, here's where and when I'll be giving the keynote address -- "True Translation? - Ignōrō et Ignōrā́bō!" -- for The 13th International Workshop for Translation and Publication of Korean Literature taking place on June 20th in the 2014 Seoul International Book Fair:

Keynote Speech
Horace Jeffery Hodges
Professor, Ewha Womans University
"True Translation? - Ignōrō et Ignōrā́bō!"
Coex Conference Hall 327ABC
June 20th, 2014 - 10:10-10:40

Registration is earlier, 9:30-10:00, followed by the opening address by Kim Seong-Kon (President - LTI Korea / Professor - Seoul National University), after which I speak. The rest of Session 1 (Moderated by Ryoo Bo Sun, Professor - Kunsan University) is as follows:

10:40-11:10 - Panel 1. Jean Noël-Juttet (Translator, LTI Korea Translation Academy): "Is Literary Translation an Occupation?"

11:10-11:40 - Panel 2. Andrés Felipe Solano (Writer, LTI Korea Translation Academy): "The Translator as Traitor"

11:40-12:20 - Discussion / Question and Answer - Students of LTI Korea Translation Academy - Sophie Bowman, Loïc Bouchendhomme, and Diana Jang

There will then be lunch, followed by an afternoon session. The overarching theme for the workshop is "The Role of Translators and Literary Agents in Globalizing Korean Literature."

If there are any alterations in this schedule, I'll make sure to post them here.

Brief Post on My Upcoming Keynote Address

KLTI Logo

I sent the KLTI a draft of my keynote address for next week on the 20th, and after a long weekend, I heard from them:

Thank you for your text. It's very interesting!

That message was a relief, for I was actually a bit concerned that my lighthearted talk might be vetoed, but I gather that they weren't surprised.

They must read this blog and thus know what to expect . . .

Finally, someone who likes my first name . . .

David Lindsay Barch

David Lindsay Barch over at the Marmot's Hole recently urged posters (but didn't 'insist' on commentators) to use their real, full names:

I'm gonna (again) suggest that ANYONE who's invited to post on MH -- Korean or not -- agree to dispense with their anonymity, man-up (or woman-up), and use their real names when posting.

(I've long since given up asking commentators to do the same.)

Note that "given up asking" doesn't mean given up expecting . . . so I complained:

Dammit! You mean I got to start manning up that I'm really "Horace"? Well, does that sound like a name to 'man' up to? Nuh-uh! No way! Just manning up to "Jeffery" is embarrassment enough!

D. L. Barch -- he prefers D. L. (maybe he's "Divine Light") -- assured me that "Horace" is a grand name:

"Horace" is an awesome name, man! (Though, truth be told, I'd probably go with "Horatius," but that's just how I roll.)

I acknowledged the compliment:

'Tis true I am a poet . . .

And I've got proof!

Charles Montgomery on Yi Kwang-su's Novel The Soil

Charles Montgomery
Dongguk University

Professor Charles Montgomery (Dongguk University) -- who has a professional interest in Korean literature and has been officially recognized for this interest -- offers a review of Yi Kwang-su's novel The Soil on his blog, Korean Literature in Translation, from which I excerpt:

The Soil (흙) is also strange artifact from a strange author. The first thing a reader notices is that this book is big -- some 510 pages big, and that can be daunting. On the other hand, since it was originally published in serial form (this is how much of Korean fiction was published prior to the 1960s), it is broken up into convenient little chunks, with some mini-chapters barely clocking in at over a page, so it certainly can be read in little chunks. The Soil might not be the book that a potential reader of Korean fiction would start with, but it does have its charms and once a reader gets past the large cast of characters and plots, which are introduced at a lickety-split rate as the book opens, the story begins to flesh out.

Charles then gets into some plot-spoilers, so I'll stop there and merely quote his words on the quality of the translation:

The translation, by the husband and wife team of Hwang Sun-Ae and Horace Jeffery Hodges, is quite good. There is an occasional lapse into passive constructions, but for the most part the translated text flows in perfect accord with the story, and makes reading a pleasure.

As I told him in a comment:

Thanks for the kind words (and I'll keep an eagle eye out for passives from now on).

Advice on writing is always useful since it leads a writer to reconsider and remain alert . . .

Jihadi Readings of Qur'anic Verses Regarding Jihad

Page of Koran
Memri

The Director of South Asia Studies Project at the Middle East Media Research Institute, Tufail Ahmad, writing "The Terrorist Groups' Interpretation of the Koranic Verses Regarding Jihad" (Memri, Inquiry and Analysis Series Report No. 1098, June 4, 2014), notes an interesting point:

Although liberal commentators argue that jihadists are inspired by radical Egyptian teacher Sayyed Qutb and Pakistani cleric Maulana Abul Aa'la Maududi among others, it doesn't appear that the jihadists are quoting these writers; most of the jihadist literature essentially cites the Koran and the Hadiths.

As evidence, Ahmad goes on to note that one Pakistani terrorist group (Jaish-e-Muhammad), visited 18 cities in Pakistan to give "lessons that taught translation and interpretation of more than 558 verses on jihad." In fact, says Ahmad, "Jaish-e-Muhammad chief Maulana Masood Azhar . . . cited several Koranic verses to explain the jihadist mission in Islam":

Allah . . . in Chapter Anfal . . . says: 'Fight them until no corruption (kufr) exists and all religion (worship) is for Allah' (Chapter Anfal, Verse 39). This verse refers to the final objective of jihad, which is to exterminate every shred of resistance that kufr offers so that Islam dominates over all other religions and all abide by the law of Allah.

The jihadist scholars cited by Ahmad take note of various liberal Muslim interpretations of Qur'anic verses, countering each one of them with withering scorn based on close readings of the Koran and Hadiths. No one seems to be citing Qutb or Maududi, as Ahmad notes, but upon reflection, that shouldn't really be surprising since the writings of Qutb and Maududi are secondary sources, lacking the divine authority to be found in the Qur'an or the revered authority found in authentic Hadiths.

For the full report, see Memri.

The Experience of Translating: "Ignōrō et Ignōrā́bō!"

Malcolm Whittaker, Artist
May 29th, 2014
The Guardian

As already noted, I've been asked to give a keynote address at the 13th International Workshop for Translation and Publication of Korean Literature and to speak on the Role of Translators and Literary Agents in Globalizing Korean Literature.

I now have a working draft that I've titled "True Translation?" The draft so far takes 25 minutes to deliver, though I've been allotted 30.

Here's what I've been working on as the Introduction to my talk:

When the LTI Korea asked me to give this keynote address at today's workshop on the role of translators and literary agents, I protested that I really don't know anything about literary agents. Nor particularly about their role in globalizing Korean literature. Nor, I admitted, am I truly a translator. My wife Hwang Sun-Ae is the translator. She is the one who translates Korean into English. I'm simply the "transformer." I transform her English translation into more idiomatic English. I suggested that my wife were better qualified to give this talk, but no, the LTI wanted me. I therefore infer that my ignorance performs some important service here today. 

The service performed is perhaps to demonstrate that even an ignoramus like me can work on a translating team. As for the true experience of translating, here is my motto: "Ignōrō et Ignōrā́bō!"

What does that motto mean? I don't know and I'll never know! I'm not a translator!

Speaking Again of "LITERally 'Pour' Translations"

Czech Budweiser
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Translation

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V
American Budweiser

As a bit of wry humor, I could say that American Budweiser is a 'literally pour' translation of the original Czech Budweiser -- American Bud being a weak, watery, yellow fizzy liquid, hardly deserving comparison with the excellent Czech lager. Indeed, a poor translation.

Yes, I made a similar joke a little over one week ago, but since I'm working out my talk, I need the humor to be utterly inoffensive to Koreans, so I shouldn't denigrate Korean beers . . .

Translating Teams = Teams of Translators?

Wanting to Go Insane, Yet Unable
미쳐버리고 싶은, 미쳐지지 않는
Yi In-seong

I've blogged before about Jean Bellemin-Noël and Choe Ae-young, a translating team who translate from Korean into French, hence the above image of Interdit de folie, their translation of Yi In-seong's novel Wanting to Go Insane, Yet Unable (미쳐버리고 싶은, 미쳐지지 않는), a work that has not yet been translated into English.

I first read of this translation team in an article by Claire Lee for the Korea Herald, "French-Korean duo shares art of co-translating," and I found it interesting because she interviewed the two translators and presented a summary of their working method:

Together, the two have developed an original, effective process of co-translating. First, Choe translates the entire Korean text to French, with a long list of footnotes that contain explanations of cultural context, synonyms of major words, and alternative ways of interpreting the text. Bellemin-Noël then revises the first draft and rewrites the text into more refined French, taking Choe's footnotes into consideration. Then the "talk" begins. "From this stage we wouldn't use my first translated draft at all," Choe said. "We'd discuss extensively comparing the original Korean text and the second translated version which has been revised by Dr. Bellemin-Noël, for the final copy that would compromise the two drafts."

Bellemin-Noël said though the two discuss their work in a "cheerful mood" 90 percent of the time, the mood can get very tense for the remaining 10 percent. "I try to keep the original context of the Korean text as much as possible while Dr. Bellemin-Noël brings the perspective of French readers," Choe explained. "This process requires a lot of compromising and tough decisions."

I quoted these words in that earlier blog entry, then presented the similarities and differences between their method and the process by which Sun-Ae and I proceed:

This description of their process interests me for its similarities and differences with the process that my wife Sun-Ae and I work through in our own translation efforts. Moreover, according to Claire Lee, "Bellemin-Noël has almost no knowledge of the Korean language," which I find quite heartening, personally, since I'm in the same position of ignorance. Anyway, our process is somewhat different. Sun-Ae has a doctorate in German literature but translates into serviceable English that gets better with each passing year. I rework her translation, trying to reword it with an ear to literary quality in English. Sun-Ae then reads my reworked version, checking for mistakes of understanding on my part, which she and I then discuss. Afterwards, I re-read the text carefully, listening for awkward expressions, which I rework. Sun-Ae re-reads after that, checking again that the translation remain true to the original Korean, and we discuss any difficulties.

What strikes me as a significant difference between our method and theirs is the degree of informality to ours. I think that ours is less formal because we're a married couple and work five feet apart at desks facing one another, an arrangement that allows us to query each other any time either of us encounters a translation problem.

Perhaps you can understand why I generally don't call myself a translator. I think of myself as a "transformer," for I take the English text given to me by Sun-Ae and transform it into a literary English text. But I notice that Choe calls Bellemin-Noël "my co-translator," and the author of the article, Ms. Lee, refers to Choe and Bellemin-Noël as "Korean-French translators."

The point that comes home to me is that since Bellemin-Noël can be called a "translator" despite the fact that he "has almost no knowledge of the Korean language," then perhaps I can also pose as a translator . . .

Translating: A Never-Ending Task!

One of Zeno's Paradoxes
"Are we there yet?" Zippy the Pinhead
The Sylmar Scribbler

Striving for the perfect translation, like proofreading to eliminate every error, is a never-ending process reminiscent of Zeno's Paradoxes: one gets closer and closer to the aimed-for translation, yet never arrives. Sometime before August 22, 2013, I had worked out what I considered a final version of the following passage in Yi Kwang-su's novel The Soil:

The train was running on the steel bridge of Salyeoul Village. "Salyeoul! How lovely is that name!" Sung looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. Dark water still wore the summer night. As his eyes followed its course upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible. Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, one of the most evocative beauties of nature.

That sounded pretty good, I thought, but sometime between the crafting of that passage and August 22, 2013, I had second thoughts, as I then admitted to in a blog entry:

For instance, take this part: "Salyeoul! How lovely is that name!" I'd now be tempted to remove "is": "Salyeoul! How lovely that name!" Or rewrite these words: "Dark water still wore the summer night." I might now try: "The dark water was still clothed in summer night." I could do much the same with every line. From: "As his eyes followed its course upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible." To: "As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible." And from: "Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, one of the most evocative beauties of nature." To: "Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature."

Combining these, along with still other alterations, including small changes in already altered phrases, I had this:

The train was crossing the steel bridge near Salyeoul Village. "Salyeoul! How lovely that name!" Sung looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. The dark depths were still clothed in summer night. As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the milky-white fog of the valley, more typical of early autumn, grew visible. Over the moisture-soaked ground and over the softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature.

Unfortunately, by the time I turned in this revision, the deadline for editing had passed. I kicked myself mentally for being so tardy! I have since grown more philosophical about the changes, for you will see how my experience begins to recall Zeno's -- and what could be more philosophical than that? -- for I find myself wanting to keep reworking the passage, e.g., "Salyeoul! How lovely the name!" And this: "As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the valley's milky-white fog, more typical of early autumn, grew visible." And maybe this: "Over moisture-soaked soil and softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature." These changes provide us with another slightly revised passage:

The train was crossing the steel bridge near Salyeoul Village. "Salyeoul! How lovely the name!" Sung looked down at the water flowing under the bridge. The dark depths were still clothed in summer night. As his eyes followed the watercourse upstream, the valley's milky-white fog, more typical of early autumn, grew visible. Over moisture-soaked soil and softly murmuring water, the white fog was spreading, a most evocative beauty of nature.

Is that better or worse? At a certain, albeit uncertain point in such revisions, distinguishing aesthetically among them becomes difficult, if not impossible.