The Theory of a Translated Embrace

A friend of mine wrote a book and had it translated into English. However, a reviewer told her she should have it proofread, which she did, so she asked if I could take a look, given my experience with language and translation, just to see if that’s just a reviewer’s whim or if the translation really needs a touch-up.

I took the book, went through about fifty pages or so, and other than a random comma that was MIA, I couldn’t find anything wrong with it. Grammar was OK, terminology was OK, all checked out.

The only flaw the book had was the fact that it was – a translation. And when it comes to translations, people tend to have some pretty unrealistic expectations.

But the truth is – no translation will ever be like the original. It’s like looking at a person in front of you and then staring at their photo. Sure, it’s the same person, but the experience is just not the same.

A translation will never have the original experience and thoughts the author had in mind while they were crafting their book (article, post, guide, whatever). It may mirror the original intention, but it will never be “it.” A single sentence carries an intricate tangle of personal, emotional, experiential, cultural, social, spiritual, conscious, and unconscious (and whatnot other) factors that crafted the said sentence in the mind of the author, which the translator will never be able to replicate in full.

Sometimes, it’s difficult to translate instructions for use (for example, due to lack of words, language economy, etc.). So imagine how difficult it is to translate all the layers behind someone’s meaning.

Think of it this way (the exact way I described it to my friend). Imagine that you’re married, and your husband and I are working on a project abroad. After two months, I’m coming home for a visit, and he’s staying abroad. He tells me, “Hug my wife for me, I miss her.” I come home, I see you, I hug you.

Now, I can hug you all I want, but I will never be able to hug you like your husband. Why? Clearly, the intention is there, and so are the instructions: “I miss my wife, I want to hug her. I can’t do it. You do it for me.” It’s just a hug, right?

But guess what… it’s never just a hug. It’s that wonderful little tangle of factors behind the hug that gives it its substance.

This is what translation is. And this is exactly what translation is not.

Sure, there are some translators that might or will, at times, take the liberty to interpret that hug in a freer manner. This is the so-called free translation, poetic license, call it what you like… depending on how much the context allows. For example, fiction might allow an innocent peck on the cheek, or even a playful spank, whereas non-fiction would demand a formal approach.

But whatever approach you may take, nothing will ever be able to replicate the hug of a husband missing his wife.

This doesn’t mean the new hug is “bad,” “diluted,” or “unworthy.”

So let’s stop treating it as such, shall we?

Thanks, Dragana Mladenović, for the inspiration!