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A review by davidareyzaga
The Eclogues, Georgics and Aeneid of Virgil by Cecil Day-Lewis, Virgil
3.0
Well, I learned something new from David Perry's method of translation for Virgil's Georgics: you can't have your cake and eat it too. David Perry, as he says in his introduction, wants to deliver a translation in iambic pentameter, but he also wants to be as faithful as humanly possible.
What is the result? A translation that is considerably longer than the original since it puts everything it can in order to retain the message while also using a poetic style so that the translation can be read aloud.
Sounds too ideal, doesn't it? Well, the result is actually a sometimes tedious text because regardless of its poetic value, it goes on and on, and it has no sense of rhythm whatsoever when it comes to content. The text loses speed pretty quickly, and since it's not able to say things succinctly, it betrays Virgil's ability to speak of complex matters in simple terms with as few words as possible, which is one of the appeals of epic poetry. Even insanely long texts have better pacing because a lot happens every two lines or so. That's not the case here. Even from glancing at the original in Latin (included in this edition), I was able to tell that Perry added supplementary information within the translation. That's a practice that I'm not against, but it does make me see in new light the copious amount of notes other translators have used in texts such as The Aeneid and The Bucolics from which I read a translation in English, and a translation in Spanish, respectively.
Unfortunately, in the case of David Perry's translation I think there has to be a better translation out there for me, even though this one has its merits. It does seem that translators have to choose a path and stick to it. It seems to be more advisable to only stray from the road you've chosen when it becomes a necessity. Either you want a translation that services the source language, or one that services the target language, without going to the extreme, but showing commitment. That level of balance is attainable, as evidenced by the work of translators such as Stephen Mitchell and Emily Wilson.
Additionally, on the language front, this experience makes me believe with more confidence that Spanish is a better language to translate from Latin. I had to confirm it, so that's why I chose this translation during my research, because I had had a wonderful experience reading English translations from Greek, but Spanish was taking the lead in the case of Latin. Of course, language isn't the only determining factor; its the translation, the contents of the text, the audience, everything. David Perry's recipe simply didn't work for me, but I wouldn't go as far as saying that it wouldn't work for others.
One thing is for sure, I will never say something as narrow-minded as: "You'll never get to enjoy X work, unless you read it in its original language," because that's just condescending. Sure, I'd love to know Greek and Latin, and I hope to master at least the former in a couple of years, but my lack of knowledge hasn't prevented me from marveling at the works of Homer, Callimachus, Virgil, Apollonius of Rhodes, and those authors I'm still yet to read, and that's thanks to wonderful translations and research on which translation fits me better.
This kind of active reading and research has taught me in a couple of months a lot more about translation of classics (if it isn't obvious already, I'm a translator), than what a classroom could offer me. Of course, this doesn't mean that studying translation isn't worthwhile. I need both in order to learn, but I do want to highlight that having a personal goal in enjoying a particular set of literature—classics, in my case—can and should be a standard activity sought by translation theorists and literary translators, at the very least.
What is the result? A translation that is considerably longer than the original since it puts everything it can in order to retain the message while also using a poetic style so that the translation can be read aloud.
Sounds too ideal, doesn't it? Well, the result is actually a sometimes tedious text because regardless of its poetic value, it goes on and on, and it has no sense of rhythm whatsoever when it comes to content. The text loses speed pretty quickly, and since it's not able to say things succinctly, it betrays Virgil's ability to speak of complex matters in simple terms with as few words as possible, which is one of the appeals of epic poetry. Even insanely long texts have better pacing because a lot happens every two lines or so. That's not the case here. Even from glancing at the original in Latin (included in this edition), I was able to tell that Perry added supplementary information within the translation. That's a practice that I'm not against, but it does make me see in new light the copious amount of notes other translators have used in texts such as The Aeneid and The Bucolics from which I read a translation in English, and a translation in Spanish, respectively.
Unfortunately, in the case of David Perry's translation I think there has to be a better translation out there for me, even though this one has its merits. It does seem that translators have to choose a path and stick to it. It seems to be more advisable to only stray from the road you've chosen when it becomes a necessity. Either you want a translation that services the source language, or one that services the target language, without going to the extreme, but showing commitment. That level of balance is attainable, as evidenced by the work of translators such as Stephen Mitchell and Emily Wilson.
Additionally, on the language front, this experience makes me believe with more confidence that Spanish is a better language to translate from Latin. I had to confirm it, so that's why I chose this translation during my research, because I had had a wonderful experience reading English translations from Greek, but Spanish was taking the lead in the case of Latin. Of course, language isn't the only determining factor; its the translation, the contents of the text, the audience, everything. David Perry's recipe simply didn't work for me, but I wouldn't go as far as saying that it wouldn't work for others.
One thing is for sure, I will never say something as narrow-minded as: "You'll never get to enjoy X work, unless you read it in its original language," because that's just condescending. Sure, I'd love to know Greek and Latin, and I hope to master at least the former in a couple of years, but my lack of knowledge hasn't prevented me from marveling at the works of Homer, Callimachus, Virgil, Apollonius of Rhodes, and those authors I'm still yet to read, and that's thanks to wonderful translations and research on which translation fits me better.
This kind of active reading and research has taught me in a couple of months a lot more about translation of classics (if it isn't obvious already, I'm a translator), than what a classroom could offer me. Of course, this doesn't mean that studying translation isn't worthwhile. I need both in order to learn, but I do want to highlight that having a personal goal in enjoying a particular set of literature—classics, in my case—can and should be a standard activity sought by translation theorists and literary translators, at the very least.