Thursday, August 26, 2021

On Being Translated

It is worth saying something about the condition of the writer who finds himself being translated.  Being translated is not work for either the weekday or the weekend...it abounds in violent and conflicting emotions.  The author who finds before him a page of his own work translated into a language that he understands will, variously or all at once, feel that he has been flattered, betrayed, ennobled, X-rayed, castrated, planed smooth, raped, embellished, or murdered.  Rarely does he remain indifferent toward the translator, whether his is an acquaintance or a stranger, who has jammed his nose and his fingers into his viscera: he would gladly send him, variously, or all at once, his own heart carefully packaged, a check, a laurel wreath, or his seconds for a duel.

        - Primo Levi, Other People’s Trades (1985)

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