“The Little Heidelberg”
and “El Pequeño Heidelberg”:
A Translation Comparison
Margaret Sayers Peden, the
translator of works by Latin American authors such as Isabel Allende, Pablo Neruda, and Carlos Fuentes, often discusses the complexities of
translation. She jokes that a “translator is a person put together by a
committee. To varying degrees a translator is composed of creative writer,
scholar, archivist, innovator and often, a large portion of masochist”
(“Conversation” 143). More seriously, Sayers Peden claims that translation
involves both destruction and reconstruction of a literary work (“Building”
14). Through both the extensive number of translations credited to her name
as well as her writings on the translation process itself, Sayers Peden is
well aware of the many cross-cultural communication problems inherent in the
act of translation. Yet when comparing Sayers Peden’s translation of one of
Allende’s Cuentos de Eva Luna to its original, the entire flavor of
the piece is not present. What is the reason for such a discrepancy? Why
can not a seasoned translator convey all of the emotions and effects of the
original language? Here, through a comparison of “El Pequeño Heidelberg”
and its English translation, I will attempt to show that such cross-cultural
communication problems are not a result of translator error, but instead are
automatically present in a translation. Indeed, cross-cultural
communication problems have been called the “most difficult aspect of
translation” (Rabassa, “Snowflakes” 10). Such problems are apparent not
only on a word-by-word level but also globally throughout the text.
“El Pequeño Heidelberg” is the story of a
small dance hall in an undisclosed location on the Caribbean in South
America. The customers of the Little Heidelberg are typically older men and
women, many of whom are foreigners who cannot speak English. One of these
is El Capitán, a man suspected to be of Nordic origins who has been dancing
with the niña Eloísa for forty years. They have never spoken to each
other because of language barriers: El Capitán speaks an unknown tongue, and
Eloísa only speaks Spanish. One day, though, young Scandinavian tourists
come to the Heidelberg. El Capitán hears them speaking his language and
asks them to translate a question to Eloísa for him. Through a complicated
process, Eloísa learns that El Capitán wants to marry her, and she says
yes. The couple begin a celebratory dance, and as they start twirling
Eloísa begins to turn “to lace, to froth, to mist” until she is first a
shadow and then completely disappears (Allende 180).
Throughout this tale of love and magic
realism and its translation, many problems in intercultural communication
can be observed. One such problem evident in the two texts can be traced to
differences in linguistic setting. Trying to translate certain Spanish
forms present in the original may be impossible for the translator. One
such form is the double negative, which is not permissible in academic
English. For example, the phrase “They had not missed a step once in forty
years,” found in the English translation (173), seems much less emphatic
than “No habían perdido el paso ni una sola vez en cuarenta años” (131). In
the Spanish phrase, both “no” and “ni” serve to negate, while the English
phrase only allows for one negating word. Such a difference is also present
in a description of niña Eloísa. The Spanish phrase, “que en medio
siglo no faltó ni un sábado al Pequeño Heidelberg” (135), again has two
words that negate, while the English phrase, “who in half a century has
never missed a Saturday” (177), only employs “never.”
Another linguistic difference
present in the two texts is the variation in verb tenses. Spanish, with its
extensive number of verb forms, can convey verb elements such as aspect,
mood, and time much differently than English. For example, when giving a
description of the Little Heidelberg establishment, Allende uses the
imperfect tense in the following phrase: “cuando se vivía aún en la
ilusión de la abundancia y se importaban frutas” (emphasis added,
131). The imperfect here emphasizes the ongoing natures of these actions in
the past. The English verbs in the corresponding phrase—“when there was
still an illusion of plenty and fruits were imported from other
latitudes”—do not give any special emphasis to the ongoing nature of these
actions” (173).
Sound and phrasing differences
between the original story and the translation are also important aspects of
linguistic setting that affect form and interpretation. Although in a short
story the sounds of words and syntax are not as important as in poetry, the
sounds involved in the original will never be fully translatable. Sound
phenomena such as onomatopoeia, alliteration, rhyme, and prosody will vary
between languages. Hence an English-speaking reader, especially if reading
the story aloud, will not have the same experience as the Spanish speaker
reading the original. Their tongues will not both roll over “r” or say a
jota. They will not follow the same stress patterns, as Spanish is a
syllable-timed language while English is stress-timed. For example, compare
the following sentences: 1)“Cada uno podía intuir el siguiente movimiento
del otro, adivinar el instante exacto de la próxima vuelta, interpretar la
más sutil presión de la mano o desviación de un pie” (131). 2) “Each could
sense the other’s next movement, divine the exact instant of the next turn,
interpret the most subtle hand pressure or deviation of a foot” (173). In
the Spanish version, several infinitive verb forms are present, causing a
repetition of “r” sounds and emphasizing the parallel structure of the
phrases. The Spanish version also allows for subtle rhyming—otro,
movimiento,and exacto and presión and desviación
create this effect. The English version also has sound effects, of course,
but they do not necessarily parallel those that occur in Spanish. As
Gregory Rabassa succinctly notes, “We might be missing the poetry”
(“Treason” 23).
Further subtle differences between the
English and Spanish stories include register differences. Latin American
Spanish allows for two different forms of “you”; Spanish speakers use “tú”
and its associated forms when addressing children, animals, family members,
and other intimates while “usted” is used in more formal and reserved
settings. Because English does not share this trait, the irony of one scene
in the story is lost in the translation. Upon hearing the voices of the two
Scandinavian foreigners, El Capitán asks the foreigners to translate for him
into English, and then the proprietor of the Little Heidelberg, Don Rupert,
translates from English into a convoluted Spanish. The final utterance
appears as “Niña Eloísa, pregunta El Capitán si quiere casarse con él”
(136). The use of the “usted” form, as evident in the verb conjugation and
the object pronoun, underlines the ridiculousness of the situation, as well
as the level of formality between El Capitán and niña Eloísa. I
would imagine that most marriage proposals in Spanish do not include the
“usted” form. Of course, the English “you” in the translation “Niña
Eloísa, asks El Capitán will you marry him” cannot make the same
distinctions, and the fine nuances of this scene are thus lost to those
reading the English translation (179).
Individual word choices in the translation
of “El Pequeño Heidelberg” also carry implications for cross-cultural
communication problems. As John Biguenet and Rainer Schulte explain, “an
exact equivalence from one language to another will never possible” (xiii).
Consequently, words like música will not have the same connotations
for Spanish speakers as music does for English speakers, even though
the two words are ostensibly cognates. Gregory Rabassa confirms this notion
by commenting that a word is just a metaphor for another object or word.
Perro, for instance, is simply a symbol for a four-legged furry animal;
this word translated, dog, is “at two removes from the object under
description.” Both words will convey similar images in the minds of a
Spanish speaker and an English speaker, but, according to Rabassa, “other
subliminal images may accompany the two versions and thereby give the two
words further differences beyond sound” (“Snowflakes” 1).
Sayers Peden further outlines that often
translators are forced to make a substitution, or in other words, choose a
word or phrase that “nearly echoes the effect of the original language” but
is not a true translation (“Conversation” 146). For example, “trenzas
amarillas” (which literally would mean “yellow braids”) in “El Pequeño
Heidelberg” becomes “golden braids” in the translation (132, 174). The
translation does “nearly echo” the original; both texts tell of girls with
yellow hair in braids, but the English translation adds a more poetic
element. Another example of a substitution occurs when Allende describes
the types of dances played by the band of the Heidelberg. Allende uses the
phrase “danzas regionales” while Sayers Peden translates it into “folk
dances” (132, 174). “Folk” is certainly not a pure translation of
“regional” because a one-to-one correspondence does not exist, but it is an
extremely close substitution. When considered individually, such
substitutions may cause only very slight differences in interpretation.
However, when considered collectively over an entire piece, the differences
may be more significant.
Another division of translating individual
words with consequences for intercultural communication problems occurs when
an original text word has no counterpart in the target language. Sayers
Peden calls this “explanation” because the translator is using language to
describe an object or phenomenon that does not exist in the target language
(“Conversation” 147). In “The Little Heidelberg, “explanation” occurs when
Sayers Peden uses “tavern” for “salón de baile” (173, 131). “Salón de baile,”
literally a dance salon, does not have an equivalent in English. “Dance
hall” sounds too raucous as well as outdated, while “dance club” conjures up
images of techno music and DJs. “Bar” does not seem the right word either
for an establishment that serves apple strudel and caters to rather elderly
patrons. Thus “tavern” is the best approximation, though still imperfect,
as many English speakers might more closely associate “tavern” with “pub” or
“bar.” Ultimately, the translation depends on the ensuing descriptions of
the Heidelberg to give a fuller sense of what the business is like, while
the original text establishes this immediately.
At times, however, even an “explanation”
may not be sufficient and the translator will have to use the original
language. For example, “don” and “doña” are courtesy titles placed before
the names of men and women, respectively. This pair does not really have an
equivalent in English. “Mr.” and “Mrs.” are more appropriately translations
of “señor” and “señora” and so will not apply. To address this problem,
Sayers Peden retains the use of “don” and “doña” when referring to the
proprietors of the Heidelberg and simply italicizes the two titles (174).
Of course, this retention of the original Spanish does not mean that
English-speaking readers of the translation will understand the cultural and
social meanings underlying these two words. Ultimately, this problem cannot
be solved by translation.
Another time an explanation is not
sufficient occurs with the phrase “the niña Eloísa.” Here Sayers
Peden has also retained some of the original Spanish. Although “niña” is
easily translatable as “girl” in many cases, in this context “niña” is a
nickname given to Eloísa because of her “girlish mannerisms” and the fact
that she never married (177). Once again, retaining the original Spanish is
the best solution— as Clifford E. Landers notes “the best way of dealing
with seemingly opaque items in the source culture is not to translate them
at all”—but the translation cannot solve the associated cross-cultural
communication problems (79). Many English speakers might not be aware, for
example, that use of nicknames is common in Spanish; terms such as “gordita”
(little fat one) are used as affectionate endearments. Thus, because of the
lack of knowledge of the culture, those reading the story in English will
not receive a complete sense of the intentions of the original language and
a translation will not be able to compensate.
Sayers Peden also retains the original
Spanish in the name “La Mexicana,” one of the patrons of “The Little
Heidelberg.” In modern, politically correct English, referring to a
character by her ethnicity seems strange and almost rude. If the
translation substituted “the Mexican,” English readers may be taken aback.
However, in Latin American cultures, it is “normal and non-aggressive to
address a person by his or her ethnicity or race” (Landers 137). Negro,
for example, is acceptable in Spanish-speaking cultures. So, to avoid
offending readers, Sayers Peden uses the original Spanish name. Still,
though, many readers may remain unaware of this cultural aspect and will not
completely understand the cultural aspects underlying the name “La Mexicana.”
Besides these more minute details, though,
more global problems also exist that affect the interpretation of the entire
translated text. For example, one global element to examine is the cultural
context of this particular story. An important aspect of culture here is
the role of the short story itself in Latin America. “El Pequeño
Heidelberg” is part of a collection of stories told by Allende’s title
character from a previous book, Eva Luna. In Los Cuentos de Eva
Luna, Allende sets up Eva Luna, a writer for a soap opera, as a Latin
American Scheherazade who is telling stories to her lover. In Latin
American culture, stories and storytellers are an important part of the
culture. Allende herself remarks, “I come from a culture of storytelling.
In most of the third world, where a high percentage of the population is
illiterate and very few can buy books, there is a strong oral tradition.
Poems, songs, and stories preserve the collective memory” (“Short Story”
22). Thus Eva Luna’s stories, including “El Pequeño Heidelberg,” ideally
should be read from such a lens of consciousness. Unfortunately, a
translation must necessarily lose this lens; Sayers Peden is, after all,
translating for readers who do not come from an oral tradition. Native
English speakers can never undergo the same type of reading experience
because they do not have this native speaker inherent knowledge of Latin
American culture.
Another cultural element appearing in “El
Pequeño Heidelberg” that may be difficult to translate is magic realism, a
theme common to much Latin American literature. Magic realism, as defined
by Seymour Menton, is the “unobtrusive, matter-of-fact insertion by the
precise, objective artist or author of an unexpected or improbable […]
element in a predominantly realistic work which creates a strange or eerie
effect that leaves the viewer or reader disconcerted, bewildered, or
delightfully amazed” (qtd. in Hart 25). In “The Pequeño Heidelberg,” magic
realism occurs when the niña Eloísa slowly fades away while dancing
in El Capitán’s arms. The text states that she “turned to lace, to froth,
to mist, until she was but a shadow, then, finally, nothing but air, and [El
Capitán] found himself whirling, whirling, with empty arms, his only
companion a faint aroma of chocolate” (180). Many Latin American writers
including Allende insist that such an implausible event being accepted as
fact is “true for the Latin American identity” (Carvalho 55). Allende, in
fact, connects magic realism to real life events when describing her uncles
in an interview; she notes that they “met all the requisites for magical
realism” (Correas Zapata 42). Magic realism is indeed a way of looking at
the world and interpreting reality that is part of many Latin American
cultures. A full understanding of magic realism cannot be translated, and
thus many readers of the English translation, especially if unversed in
Latin American culture or literature, will treat Eloísa’s disappearance as a
fantastic, fairy tale event instead of a possible, legitimate manner of
interpretation. In other words, those outside Latin American culture may
not credit magic realism as a viable way of viewing the world. One critic,
Samuel Amago, potentially misinterprets the story because of a lack of
understanding of magic realism. Amago states, “When the story ends and [El
Capitán] is dancing alone, the reader is uncertain whether any of the
exchange between [El Capitán and Eloísa] ever occurred” (49). Such a
statement indicates a lack of knowledge about magic realism and an instance
of a cross-cultural communication problem.
Yet another portion of cultural context
that affects the translation of the story is the sense of physical setting.
In the story, Allende never specifically gives the location of the Little
Heidelberg. Instead she relies on clues: the Heidelberg is said to be “a
certain distance from the capital,” the text mentions an “oil crisis” (173),
and the establishment is “firmly established in the Caribbean” (174).
Although never directly named, most Latin American Spanish speakers reading
the original would guess that the story occurs in Venezuela, one of the few
South American countries with Caribbean shores, and also would have
knowledge about a past oil crisis. Allende does admit she “[prefers] the
ambiguity of an unnamed place and an undetermined time. It gives me a sort
of mythical or legendary tone that I can use in the story” (“Short Story”
24-25). However, the story in its original form assumes a common cultural
knowledge, as obvious from the aforementioned clues, and native South
American readers will have a general idea of the setting. Readers
experiencing this story through the translation, on the other hand, will not
share this same background and will not have as clear a sense of setting
without further education about Latin American culture.
Finally, the more general context under
which the translation was produced can also have ramifications for
cross-cultural communication. Lawrence Venuti argues that the context under
which a translation occurs can have profound influences on the translation.
Typically, only texts that were commercially successful in their native
culture are translated and widely distributed. Then, the translation is
“expected to reinforce literary, moral, religious, or political values
already held by the reader” in order to be marketable (124). Such forces
could certainly have been at work with Cuentos de Eva Luna. Allende
is a highly popular and successful author, and all of her works have been
translated into English—the majority by Sayers Peden. Subsequently,
differences between the two cultures may not be called attention to (such as
my previous discussion of “La Mexicana”), in order to avoid alienating
English-speaking readers. These acts result in the suppression of potential
discussions of cultural variations and could ultimately increase ignorance
and perpetuate cultural misunderstandings.
Upon examining all these varied
cross-communication problems inherent in the translation of just one short
story, Biguenet and Schulte’s statement that “the perfect translation
remains an impossibility” seems extremely applicable (vii). A
translation, even in the hands of the experienced Margaret Sayers Peden,
always, as Rabassa states, “must continue to approach, nearer and nearer, as
near as [it] can” the original, but will never achieve such a goal (12).
Translation also by its very nature must “[subvert] the initial conditions
for the production of meaning,” according to Jean Delisle and Judith
Woodsworth (223). A multitude of problems, including issues of
intercultural communication, will always hold the translator back. An
English speaker’s reading of “The Little Heidelberg” will never be the same
experience as a Spanish speaker’s reading of “El Pequeño Heidelberg.” As
Landers aptly comments, “It is all but impossible for a person outside a
given culture to marshal the depth and scope that natives assimilate
automatically and unconsciously” (72). A good translation, though, can
start a process of cross-cultural communication and begin to bridge the gap
between these two different experiences and cultures.
Works
Cited
Allende, Isabel. “The Little Heidelberg.” The
Stories of Eva
Luna. Trans. Margaret Sayers Peden.
New York:
Atheneum, 1991. 172-180.
---.“El Pequeño Heidelberg.” Cuentos de Eva Luna.
New York:
Rayon, 1989. 131-137.
---.“The Short Story.” Journal of Modern
Literature 20.1
(Summer 1996): 21-28.
Amago, Samuel. “A Reconsideration of Cuentos de
Eva Luna.
Latin American Literary Review 28.56
(2000): 43-59.
Biguenet, John and Rainer Schulte. Introduction.
The Craft of
Translation. Ed. Biguenet and Schulte.
Chicago: U. of
Chicago Press, 1989. vii-xvi.
Carvalho, S.E. de. “Narration and Distance in Isabel
Allende’s
Novels and in Cuentos de Eva Luna.”
Antipodas 6-7 (1994
-1995): 55-62.
Correas Zapata, Celia. Isabel Allende: Life and
Spirits. Trans.
Margaret Sayers Peden. Houston: Arte Público Press, 2002.
Delisle, Jean and Judith Woodsworth, Eds.
Translations through
History. Philadelphia: John Benjamins
Publishing, 1995.
Hart, Patricia. Narrative Magic in the Fiction of
Isabel Allende.
Cranbury, NJ: Associated University Presses,
1987.
Landers, Clifford E. Literary Translation: A
Practical Guide.
Tonawanda, NY: Multilingual Matters, 2001.
Rabassa, Gregory. “If This Be Treason: Translation and
Its
Possibilities.” Translation:
Literary, Linguistic, and
Philosophical Perspectives. Ed. William Frawley. Newark: U.
of Delaware Press, 1984.
2129.
---.“No Two Snowflakes Are Alike: Translation as
Metaphor.” The
Craft of Translation. Ed. John Biguenet and Rainer
Schulte.
Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989. 1-12.
Sayers Peden, Margaret. “Building a Translation, The
Reconstruction Business: Poem 145 of Sor Juana Ines de la
Cruz.” The Craft of Translation. Ed. John Biguenet and
Rainer Schulte. Chicago: University of
Chicago Press,
1989. 13-27.
---. “A Conversation on Translation with Margaret
Sayers Peden.”
Translation Perspectives: Selected Papers.
Binghamton, NY:
National Resource Center for Translation and Interpretation,
1984. 142-156.
Venuti, Lawrence. The Scandals of Translation:
Towards an
Ethics of Difference. London: Routledge, 1998.
