by ALLAN REEDER
Eager for her rendezvous with lover Léon, Emma Bovary, under Flaubert’s direction, wakes early and looks out the window onto the square. What does she see?
Le petit jour circulait entre les piliers des halles, et la maison du pharmacien, dont les volets étaient fermés, laissait apercevoir dans la couleur pâle de l’aurore les majuscules de son enseigne.
In other words:
The early dawn was broadening between the pillars of the market, and the chemist’s shop, with the shutters still up, showed in the pale light of the dawn the large letters of his signboard.
(Translation by Eleanor Marx Aveling, 1888)
Or, in later words:
The first light of morning was stealing into the pillared market place; and on the pharmacist’s house, its shutters still drawn, the pale tints of dawn were picking out the capital letters of the shop sign.
(Translation by Francis Steegmuller, 1957)
There’s a lot to talk about here, but what do I see, even after Emma has slipped away for her trip to the city? I see, most lastingly, those capital letters that Steegmuller lights up with the colors of the early morning. And what do I stumble over and therefore not see, not as sharply? Aveling’s “chemist’s shop” (rather than the sunlight) “showing” the “large letters of his signboard.” I return to the original and, using what little French remains accessible from my high school classrooms, note that Aveling followed Flaubert’s syntax more closely than did Steegmuller.
I must find the translation of this sentence offered by Lydia Davis, now of Man Booker Prize fame, in part because she also offered the following, in The Paris Review, when her rendering of Madame Bovary was published in 2010:
The quality and nature of a translation (let’s say from the French) depends on three things, the first fairly obvious and the second two not quite as obvious: 1) the translator’s knowledge of French language, history, and culture; 2) his or her conception of the task of the translator; and 3) his or her ability to write well in English. These three variables have infinite subsets that recombine infinitely to produce the many different kinds and qualities of translations that we have…. All three factors are vital, but in many instances, if one has to rank them, the third — how well the translator writes — may be the most important qualification, followed closely or equaled by the second — how he or she approaches the task of translating — and it is the first that comes in last place, since minor lapses in a knowledge of the language, history, and culture may result in mistakes that are, in a beautifully written, generally faithful version, fairly easily corrected, whereas a misconception of the task of the translator and, worse, an inability to write well will doom the entire book through its every sentence.
Curious about how the trip to the city went for Emma? Find out here.