Meanwhile, the new year has brought a crop of online excerpts and short stories translated from Arabic to English via the Arabic Literature blog. Works include a short excerpt of Kamel Riahi’s al-Ghurila (The Gorilla), poems from Hussein Habasch and Joyce Mansour and a short story inspired by the Egyptian revolution from Hamdy El-Gazzar. The Arab Spring and its repercussions are also a dominant theme at the Beirut Book Fair.

The European Society of Authors is continuing to promote their annual “Finnegan’s List” in which well-known polyglot writers are asked to recommend titles by other writers deserving of wider translation. London author Adam Thirlwell gets one of the nominations. A PDF of the full list is available for download: Finnegan’s List [pdf].

One European author to obtain wider translation is Spaniard Javier Marías with seven titles from his backlist being translated into English at least, having been signed up by Penguin Modern Classics. The titles, which are all to be published at the beginning of August 2012, are All Souls, A Heart So White, Tomorrow in the Battle Think On Me, Dark Back of Time, When I was Mortal, The Man of Feeling and Written Lives.

Where would you find Russian revolutionaries in the early 1900s? The biographies of the future leaders of the Soviet Union show that they were men well travelled as it was not easy to organise left-wing parties in Tsarist Russia, and radicals were often forced into exile. I wrote last week about Clerkenwell’s radical history, and in 1902, the leading Bolshevik Vladimir Lenin came here. He set about publishing the revolutionary newspaper Iskra (The Spark) to be shipped back to Russia.

Lenin worked from an office at 37a Clerkenwell Green. The building had originated as a Welsh charity school and was later occupied by socialist publishers The Twentieth Century Press. Artist William Morris initially helped pay the rent. In 1933 the building became The Marx Memorial Library to mark fifty years since the death of Marx. The founders felt that a library would be an appropriate memorial as the world was then witnessing the sight of Nazis burning books in Germany. The library is still maintained today, holding an impressive collection and Lenin’s office has been preserved for visitors to take a tour.

The diaries of Lenin’s wife have been preserved for history and indicate that he hated it here at first, having no appetite for English food:

“We found that the Russian stomach is not easily adaptable to the ‘ox-tails,’ skate fried in fat, cake and other mysteries of English fare.” [quoted in Islington Now]

However Lenin reportedly grew to enjoy having a drink in the pubs around Clerkenwell Green in addition to riding on London’s open top buses. Some claim he took the young Joseph Stalin for a drink in 1903 at Clerkenwell Green’s The Crown and Anchor (now The Crown Tavern). Stalin was in London to attend the Second Congress of the Russian Democratic Labour Party but it has to be noted that these accounts are somewhat sketchy. The pub’s history also includes the filming in 2006 of scenes from ‘Notes on a Scandal’, with Dame Judi Dench and Cate Blanchett; a fact that is probably more easily verified!

Not a movie star or a revolutionary, but a very notable and fascinating figure from Clerkenwell history is “the musical small-coal man”. Thomas Britton lived near Clerkenwell Green in the decades either side of 1700. Britton did his coal round in the morning before joining local literati to discuss books and learning at a booksellers on Paternaster Row.

His home was a former stable at the corner of Aylesbury Street and Jerusalem Passage. The ground floor was used to store coal while he lived in a single room above, reached by an external ladder. From this home he ran a musical club on Thursday evenings for about forty years. In October 1714 a contemporary newspaper, The British Mercury, described him as “universally known to all Lovers of Musick, of what Quality soever”.  Coffee was served while music was performed, attracting great musicians as members including the composer Handel. The influential royalist pamphleteer Roger L’Estrange was among the founder members of his ensemble.

Jonathan Swift, the author of Gulliver’s Travels, alludes to Britton in his poem “A Description of the Morning”:

“The Smallcoal-Man was heard with Cadence deep,
‘Till drown’d in Shriller Notes of Chimney-Sweep.”

Nineteen century author John Hawkins later pointed out the historic significance of Britton’s “musical club” in molding the concept of the public concert:

“The truth is, it was nothing less than a musical concert; and so much more does it merit our attention, as it was the first meeting of the kind, and the undoubted parent of some of the most celebrated concerts in London.”

Perhaps the next time crowds gather for a gig in Victoria Park, they should reflect on the legacy of Britton the musical coal-man. He died in 1714 leaving behind a large collection of books, fine musical instruments and sheet music.

Enjoyed this? Read our previous posts on Clerkenwell history: ghosts, cows, medical monks and revolution and Clerkenwell Green: radical centre & relaxing spa springs

Coming up next the next instalment of our history of Clerkenwell: pickpockets, a mysterious mummified cat and a feigned haunting…

The Sun says Aston Villa “refused to give up the ghost”. Wendy Richard calls her EastEnders character Pauline Fowler “the salt of the earth”. The England cricket coach tells reporters, “You can’t put words in my mouth.” Daily Mirror fashion pages call Tilda Swinton “a law unto herself”.

Now today’s Observer is going even further: it carries a full page article proclaiming “This is the age of the translator”. This marks the same anniversary and the recent appetite in the English-speaking world for “foreign fiction”, such as the Millennium trilogy by Steig Larsson, claiming “2011 has been an extraordinary year for the art of translation” But this is more than a paean to translation. The article also attempts to deconstruct what Google Translate does in contrast to what a “proper” human translator does, and quoting David Bellos (author of the excellent Is That A Fish In Your Ear?) saying

“Translation is what you get, but translation isn’t really what Google does. It’s like the difference between engineering and knowledge. An engineering solution is to make something work, but the way you make it work doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the underlying things. Airplanes do not work the way birds fly.”

It’s a brilliant introduction to the sort of conundrums that can crop up in translating even the most “common sense” concepts. The book itself, Is that a fish in your ear: Translation and the meaning of everything has been garnering some rave reviews.

While Shaun Whiteside in the Independent says

“I can quite imagine translators, particularly those who also do a spot of teaching, being consumed with envy at Bellos’s ability to entertain while getting difficult linguistic ideas across to the general reader… Is That a Fish in Your Ear? is essential reading for anyone with even a vague interest in language and translation – in short, it is a triumph.”

While Michael Hofmann in the Guardian says

“I could say anyone with an interest in translation should read Is That a Fish, but there wouldn’t be very much point; instead, anyone with no interest in translation, please read David Bellos’s brilliant book.”

(As an aside, the Guardian have also teamed up with Penguin Books to celebrate the book’s publication with a chance to win a £400 voucher towards a life changing volunteering trip overseas.)

These reviews were enough to get a copy of the book sitting on my desk. Its Prologue promises a wide ranging discussion including:

“What can we learn from translation? What does it teach us? What do we actually know about translation? What is it about translation that we still need to find out? … Is translating fundamentally different from writing and speaking, or is it just another aspect of the unsolved mystery of how we come to know what someone else means?”

Some big questions, but they seemed to be tackled in a fun as well as informative way. I am sure I will be sharing some interesting tidbits from the pages ahead. In the meantime, anyone wondering about the title should have a look here for some mostly harmless background!

These questions are interesting in their right, but are also far from academic considering the recent success of some novels translated into English. After all, Stieg Larsson’s Millennium trilogy are predicted by some to become the three top-selling novels of all time in Britain, overtaking Dan Brown’s paperback, The Da Vinci Code, which sold 4.5 million.

A recent well-writen article on the “Arabic Literature (in English)” tackles these questions:

I don’t, as a rule, object to “foreign” words in English-language texts. Would Beckman call Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart an ethnic glossary? And yet it’s full of untranslated terms, and not just the Big Three: flora/fauna, food, and dress. Many of the italicized terms, in Things Fall Apart, force the reader to try to see Igbo culture on its own terms instead of “in translation”.

On the other hand, italicized foreign terms are often unnecessary, exoticizing, and perhaps even misleading. Ahdaf Souief, in a talk at last year’s Emirates Lit Festival, said she was very careful when using Arabic words, and that “there must be a reason for it”.

Excellent points, I think. You can read further carefully considered pros and cons of “foreign language” words in translation in the full article, “It’s a Shame When a Novel Aspires to be a Glossary”.

The unofficial national bard of Scotland (and voted the greatest ever Scot in a TV poll), Burns was by far the most important poet to write in the Scots dialect. He took the language of 18th Century Scottish rural workers and fashioned it into a poetry that  has endured. A national newspaper today includes him in a series of the great British poets of the Romantic age.

Burns wrote all sorts of poetry and song from the politically charged  ‘Man Was Made to Mourn’ or ‘For A That’ to tender love songs like ‘Ae Fond Kiss’ or ‘A Red Red Rose’.

Probably his best known song (though he adapted it from an earlier traditional one)  is ‘Auld Lang Syne’ which sees in the new year wherever one or more Scots gather. Some of the words may be strange to an English ear but the message is clear and universal:
 
And there’s a hand my trusty fiere,

And gie’s a hand o thine,

And we’ll tak a right guid-willie waught,
For auld lang syne

Many people are familiar with this song from New Years Eve, but how many know what it actually means:

And here’s my hand, my trusty friend, 

And give me your hand too,

And we will take an excellent good-will drink

For the days of long ago. 

With a few friends I had an early stab at celebrating the man and his work with a Burns supper at the weekend. Though we lacked a piper, the traditional meal of haggis, neeps and tatties was duly served washed down with a fine malt whisky. Incidentally the same newspaper has tackled the thorny problem of just what constitutes a neep.

And of course the haggis was welcomed to the table with a rendition (in my somewhat rusty Scottish dialect) of Burns ode (listen here) to that great Scottish culinary treat, the haggis.

Fair fa’ your honest, sonsie face,
Great chieftain o’ the puddin-race!
Aboon them a’ ye tak your place,
Painch, tripe, or thairm:
Weel are ye wordy of a grace
As lang’s my arm.

Or as I found myself explaining, in English translation:

All hail your honest rounded face,
Great chieftain of the pudding race;
Above them all you take your place,
Beef, tripe, or lamb:
You’re worthy of a grace
As long as my arm.

“I’m Not Hanging Noodles on Your Ear and Other Intriguing Idioms from Around the World” takes its title from a Russian saying which is broadly similar in meaning to the English phrase “I’m not pulling your leg”. Often, we are so used to these absurdities in our own languages that they pass us by in everyday speech – although of course they often present a challenge to the foreign language translator!

The book is best viewed as a something to dip into, considering idioms from the Russian “To look like September” (to look miserable) through to the French “to fart in silk” (be very happy).

The chapters are arranged by subject matter (love, health, work, and so on) with a short introduction to each, and translations from a range of languages including French, Italian, German, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, Chinese and Arabic. Several of the idioms are illustrated in cartoon form, adding to the entertainment value.

Sadly the book doesn’t really delve into the background of the idioms. An academic study would have been out of place, but you can’t help but wonder if a more thorough exploration of a phrase and its etymology would have added to the fun. Also, as foreign language typesetters and translators, we would have liked to see more emphasis on the original saying rather than just the literal translation.

That said, it’s all good fun. Even better, it’s inspired the Guardian newspaper to produce a fun quiz of foreign language idioms. Give it a go and, as they point out, you can find out if you’re “a walking donkey killer or simply carrying owls to Athens”

Larsson was an interesting character, being both a crusading journalist himself and noted for tackling extreme right and racist groups. He wrote his books in his native Swedish and they have enjoyed great success in Sweden. But sadly he died before the books could be translated, and so could provide no guidance in shaping the English text.

Glancing at the translation credit in the front of the book – to a Reg Keeland – made us wonder about the responsibility involved in this project. The Swedish translation certainly felt professional, maintaining a sense of the Swedish setting while using some elegant English turns of phrase and native colloquialisms. Now it has emerged Reg Keeland is a pseudonym, and as with many a large translation project, there were some twists and turns in the process. You can read more in the interesting interview “Reg” gave his local paper in Seattle…