“Hidaka’s
house wasn’t one of the mansions, but it was definitely large for a couple with
no children. Though the peaked gables on the roof gave it a Japanese look, it
had bay windows, an arch over the front door and window boxes hanging from the
second storey that were clearly Western in design.”*
The task of
a translator extends far beyond linguistic matters and necessarily involves creating images. The challenge lies in both visualizing the picture in the
original text, obvious to the author, and gracefully reproducing it for the
reader unfamiliar with the culture in question. An example of this task is the
simple word “house”. While almost all dwellings have at least four walls, they
vary in material, dimension, outside façade, inside layout and access to light
and air, to name just a few factors. It is clear that the sentence “I loved my
parents’ home” may elicit a universal feeling but fails to create a single
picture, with each person envisioning the building differently. Often, housing
styles may be fairly typical in a given country or region, creating a
stereotype for those familiar with them. The actual variances may be quite
significant or more subtle as I show in a few examples of “typical” homes.
· English dwellings, particularly urban ones, enjoy multiple but small sitting areas, referred to as “cozy”, often
leaving me to think that the English like to keep their children’s mess and
noise from strangers’ eyes and ears. Curiously enough, the entrance ways are
often extremely narrow, barely wide enough for one person to pass through at a
time. Based on TV programs, the English appreciate solariums and wooden beams,
the symbols of luxury and character.
· The French are a rather solid people
traditionally. The houses are often made of brick or stone, especially in the countryside, possibly with painted window
shutters. Whether urban or rural, the furniture tends to be heavy in line with
the style of the walls, with lots of bric-a-brac cluttering the living space.
Traditional French dwellings often lack air and light, apparently to reduce the
cost of heating the space. French houses are homey but a bit claustrophobic in
my eyes.
· Israeli houses are typical of the Eastern
Mediterranean. People are social while the weather is hot. The kitchen and
living room, often joined, take proportionally a large part of the livable
space, often at the expense of the bedrooms. People seek patio space whenever
possible as garden space can significantly raise the purchase price. Upper
floors tend to become quite hot and are only practical with air conditioning.
The Israeli unique feature is the requirement, both legal and emotional, for
some kind of “safe” room, a reinforced area when (not in case) the
country is bombed. Many older houses and apartments lack this feature, reducing
their desirability. As for color scheme, Israel is a multicultural society,
creating a wide variety of furnishing styles.
The
translator of the novel cited in the first paragraph was fortunate in that the
author himself provided details of the house. Likewise, Honoré de Balzac generally wrote pages about the physical description of the
building and each of its rooms. However, most literary translators not only
need to be familiar with the architecture but somehow transmit that image. I am
quite happy to be a technical translator and not be required to achieve that
goal. Yet, the thought does give another meaning to the term “in-house translator”.
*
Higashino, K., 2014. Malice translated by A. Smith. London: Abascus.
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