lost in translation: Harry Potter

With just four weeks left until Spain, I've shifted my focus from bolstering my English lexicon to refreshing my grasp on Spanish. My fluency has definitely suffered now that I've been away from Granada for over a year. What's more, I no longer work at my UCSB job surrounded by Mexican cooks. To revive my vocabulary, including the all-important words "wand" and "curse," I've taken to re-reading the Harry Potter series in Spanish.

Doing so has shed light onto the trials of literary translation, especially when dealing with such sacred appellations and plot developments as appear in J.K. Rowling's books--translated into more than 70 languages worldwide. In her books, there are certain creations, such as the Pensieve or Knockturn Alley, that are extremely difficult to translate due to the sort of play-on-words that Rowling invokes to create such terms (i.e., Pensieve is basically a bowl of thoughts, or a "pensive sieve"). Translators must choose to either forgo the underlying connotations and stick with a phrase that will appear random to most readers, or figure out a way in their own language to convey such double meanings.

Other such ingenuities, like many characters' names and spells, would also be lost in translation. Although this does not affect the plot, it certainly dissolves some of the magic of the books. Many incantations are based on Latin roots, such as lumos (to light a wand), imperio (to control sombody), and priori incantatem (reproducing the last spell of the wand). Names often provide insight into the characters themselves--Draco Malfoy is based off the Latin root for dragon, while Remus Lupin draws his surname from the Latin for wolf. Luckily, these terms go over fine in a majority of translations, since a large chunk of the foreign market plays out in Romance languages (Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese), all based off Latin. But it's a whole level of ingenuity lost on the poor Arabic or Russian reader!

And lastly, what I just stumbled upon in my reading and what inspired this post, is how the different translations deal with anagrams. In Chamber of Secrets, Tom Marvolo Riddle rearranges the letters of his name to spell out "I am Lord Voldemort." In the version I'm reading, the translator had to compensate for the fact that "I am" is "soy" in Spanish, and thus changed Tom's name to "Tom Sorvolo Ryddle" throughout the whole series. Many languages can accomplish this by only changing the middle name--Servolo in Brazilian Portuguese, Vandrolo in Hebrew, Marvoldo in Turkish, Vorlost in German. Other languages, like Norwegian and French, simply replace the entire name so that the letters are able to spell out "I am Lord Voldemort" in the respective languages. (In Icelandic, for example, his name becomes Trevor Delgome--sort of has a different feel to it, doesn't it?)

But apparently, some languages pose too mountainous a task. The translators of Mandarin, for example, went about their business with the appropriate Chinese characters, and then made a footnote at the bottom: "In English, 汤姆･马沃罗･里德尔 is 'Tom Marvolo Riddle.' The letters in this name are exactly the same as those in 我是伏地魔 'I am Lord Voldemort,' arranged in a different order!" (source) In the Arabic version, the author threw out the whole word game altogether, and had the character simply write "I am Lord Voldemort" out of thin air. Less awe-factor, sure, but also less hassle. After all, this scene occurs at the end of the book--can we blame the translators for just wanting to be done with it?

So there you have it! Important linguistic insight into the greatest series of all time. Or, several hours of Harry Potter research, in lieu of deep-cleaning my room or taking GRE practice tests.

Source

P.S. More lost in translation moments

digital language

I read an interesting article published by Idibon, a company that helps other companies analyze their digital language data. I am so far from a techie that this last sentence was even a challenge to type, but it proved worthwhile reading. The author presented a report of a breakdown of the world's languages, and how often they are used in comparison to other "languages," such as texting and email. Here are some fascinating findings (just don't tell older generations, who will mourn 'the good old days'):

• By word count, almost 7% of the world's communication is now mediated by digital technologies
• If considered its own language, email spam would account for more communication than any other language except Mandarin
• Texting and instant-messaging account for 2% of the world's communications, making "short message communication" the most popular and linguistically diverse form of written communication that has ever existed
• If Facebook's 'like' was considered a one-word language, it would be in the top 5% most widely spoken languages (!!!) (And if this were posted as my Facebook status, chances are high it would receive more than a few likes.)

We've come a long way from cuneiform. In a few years, will sixth-graders even bother learning about ancient writing systems? Or will T9-texting be as ancient as it gets?

(The graphic above illustrates the comparative size of the languages most used in face-to-face communication, as compared with digitalized or technologically-mediated communication. Note the bottom-right corner.)

some clips of Spain

I leave for Spain six weeks from today. Hopefully that's just enough time to make me thoroughly sick of living at home--as for now, I've grown rather attached to family dinners. However, having the couch permanently attached to my ass might make it difficult to catch my flight. We shall see.

The plus side of leaving relatively soon is that I'll have something to blog about. I can only squeeze anecdotes out of these glorious yet monotonous days for so long. (Anyone want to hear about my stroll around the block yesterday??)

In the meantime, here is a little video about Spain that I thought was rather adorable. The first section is where I'll be, Basque Country. It features food, wine and greenery--three very compelling reasons to head over. Oh, and the goats! The video helped remind me that I'll be returning to a lovely country. (And sometimes I need a little reminding. I went to my visa appointment the other day, and without looking at me, the Spanish attendant growled, "Let's get this over with. I have a lot to do and I can't be here all day." All this, after I hand over $160 in cash just to gain entry into her country!)

excessively verbose

Here on the blog I've been chatting away about my current life (premature aging) and my future life (hopefully less so), but let's get back to talking about language for a moment.

I've been studying for the GRE, for that hypothetical grad school I may attend if I ever again harbor even a remote interest in academia. I figure that this summer--while I'm doing less than nothing--is a good time to tackle the test. So far, I've learned a few insights from my helpful study guide, "GRE For Dummies": You're never really allowed to forget high school math--it's sadly still relevant; some easy questions like "what's bigger, 3/5 or 5/3" are not tricks--there are just people out there who will fall for them; and, most importantly, my Linguistics degree taught me nothing about language. Literally, I know about 25--30% of the suggested vocabulary. I sometimes don't even know the words used to define the "actual" GRE words: For example, "Licentious: Wanton." That, to me, is not a definition. That is two words, inexplicably grouped together, one providing no insight into the other. This is a real wake-up call for any learners of English out there--just stop. Give up! Quit while you're ahead! If a native English speaker who studied (well, dabbled) in Linguistics knows a mere fraction of the English lexicon, is there much hope for, say, the 16-year-olds I will be teaching in Spain? To quote the study guide, it's a lugubrious state of affairs.

My brainy mother--who admittedly studied English at Harvard--seems genuinely surprised at my stupidity, if not a bit alarmed as to where $80,000 of college tuition went. "What do you mean, you've never heard the word 'penurious'? I use it to describe your father all the time!!!" I read off a list of seemingly esoteric words to her from "Dummies," hoping to stump her, but she unerringly delivers the definition of each one. I feel mildly despondent, and not a little peeved that she didn't whisper a few large words to her womb every night while carrying me for nine months. That's the fast track to intelligence, right?! There is one thought that makes me feel better, though, and allows me to believe that this whole vocabulary thing might be generational. Maybe people don't have room to remember words like "contumacious" anymore, because we need to save our brain neurons for more important nouns like "snap-chat" and "tablet"--superficially simple lexical items that spell out technologically complex concepts. My mom's outrageously confident in defining words like "stentorian" (excessively loud), but just the other day she asked me what an "album" is on Facebook. When I told her this was no GRE-brainer--that it is, in fact, "a collection of photographs"--she seemed a bit baffled. How could it be so easy?

So I will dutifully study up, attempting to cram in as many grandiose nouns and adjectives as I can before test day. But I will, undoubtedly, forget their meaning the morning after. If a memory isn't triggered, it dies--and when is the last time you've heard a word like "analgesic" in conversation?


P.S. I previously griped about English vocabulary here. Looks like I haven't improved much in a year!

Bilbao, Spain

Source

I realized I haven't given any updates about where I'm heading in two months, but there are several!

As I mentioned before, I was accepted to be an English Language Assistant (Auxiliar de Conversación)  through the Spanish Ministry of Education, back in May. About a month later I found out my exact placement would be in a middle school in my first-choice city, Bilbao! The city doesn't ring a bell for many people the way Madrid or Barcelona does (although with the addition of the Guggenheim Museum, it's becoming more well-known), but Bilbao is actually the biggest city in all of Basque Country. It's funny: my Lonely Planet guidebook of Spain writes, "Bilbao had a tough upbringing. Growing up in an environment of heavy industry and industrial wastelands, it was abused for years by those in power and had to work hard to get anywhere. . . . at heart it remains a hard-working and, physically, rather ugly town, but it's one that has real character." Not quite the ringing endorsement! No wonder it doesn't enjoy the same tourist throngs as Granada or Sevilla. But in my three-hour visit last year, there was something about Bilbao that stole my heart, and I was lucky enough to be given the chance to explore all its "industrial character" more this coming year.

Here's the thing, though: Basque Country is a bilingual region. The two official languages there are Spanish and Basque (Euskera). Euskera looks absolutely nothing like Spanish, and in fact, is thought to be unrelated to any other language alive today (and also thought to be the very first language in Europe). Having studied Linguistics, I should be thrilled at the chance to immerse myself in Euskera, but in reality I'm experiencing more of a give me a break, full-of-dread attitude. I thought I'd finally be able to hit the ground running being fluent in Spanish, but once again I'll be lost in a new language. Of course I knew this before I applied to live in Basque Country, and most everyone there will still speak to me in Spanish, but still--sort of discouraging.

I emailed the school and got a response from the director, Tontxu (yes, that's Euskera--try pronouncing it). He seemed so warm and welcoming, telling me that their middle school is small and simple, and--wait for it--almost all the students have chosen to study in Euskera, not Spanish. (Students have a choice in Basque Country, and most actually opt for Spanish, since it's clearly the smart economic choice--I guess these kids are real mavericks). "I'm sure you'll be learning a bit of Euskera this year!" he delights in telling me. My God, I can't wait--such a useful language, spoken by an entire handful of people in one tiny pocket of the globe. But maybe I can return to the U.S. and get a job in the State Department, since they probably don't have many applicants from bilingual English-Basque speakers.

But my apprehension of the language pales in comparison to my excitement (mixed with some nerves!) Last time I moved to Spain, I went with one of my best friends, as well as 50 other Californians. We stayed in dorms for a month as we acclimated to our new surroundings. This time, though, I'll just be thrown into the mix--which is equal parts terrifying and thrilling. I'll need to find an apartment in the first couple days I'm there, and maybe beg some poor, unsuspecting university students to be my friends. But I have a feeling I'll have more support than I think: Tontxu tells me that his oldest daughter has offered to meet with me and help with an apartment search one day, and that Tontxu himself will greet me when I arrive and explain everything from how to get a bus pass (heart melting), to when and where to show up on the first day of work. When I ask about a dress code for teachers, he tells me, "Dress however you like. There are practically no rules here--for us, or the students." My favorite part of his emails are his closings, in which he signs off with "un abrazo" (a hug). The warmth just emanates from the screen, and makes me feel that somehow--even though I'll know no one, have nowhere to stay, be lost in the language and have no idea how to make English sound engaging to a room full of restless middle-schoolers--I'll be able to make it work.

parent trap

Since moving back home after graduating from college in June, I've noticed a swift and unsettling change. One day I'm living on the beach at UC Santa Barbara, riding to class on my cruiser without a helmet. Next thing you know, I'm trading in flip-flops for orthotics, sipping warm milk in place of wine, and listening to NPR.

How did I let this happen? At school, I downed coffee on weeknights, and Coors on weekends. But rooming with my parents again has changed me from care-free senior to senior citizen. I now take all advice about my health as if it came straight from the AARP. The potential for skin cancer never seemed too menacing when I was sunbathing on the bluffs in Southern California, but a week with the parental roommates warning me against UV rays and picking at their sun spots, I’m now donning my mom’s straw hat—and worse, thinking I look good in it!

I eat a half-pint of blueberries daily for the anti-oxidants; a few servings of lentils for all that fiber; and have started popping multi-vitamins again. Magnesium deficiency is nothing to toy with, as I’ve learned from Web M.D.

But I shouldn’t complain about this alternative lifestyle. I haven't been hungover since graduation, and reading the news everyday is oddly illuminating. My parents and I have taken to eating every dinner on the back deck, where my mother never misses an opportunity to exclaim over her new flowerbeds. I take two-hour hikes with my mom in the morning, and then two-hour naps in the afternoon, to compensate for the effort. Plus, the more I do with her, the more she treats me to iced lattes.

I still see the social value of a night out with twenty-somethings at a dive bar. I even still long for that cute leather purse on Pinterest—so my old self hasn’t completely fallen by the wayside. And I know there's an expiration date on my time here, as I’ll be moving to Spain to teach English in September. I worry that before then, though, the practical draw of a fanny pack will be too much to resist, and I'll have officially aged thirty years, just by living two months at home.

Me and the roomies--and there's that hat I sometimes borrow!

Update: This post appeared as a radio segment on KQED's 'Perspectives' on July 30, 2013. Click here to listen! 

New York

Here's a little summary of last week's fantastic trip to New York. Maddy and I went as a three-tiered celebration: for her 22nd birthday, our graduation from UCSB, and to visit our sisters, who both live there. We were sweating profusely in 98% humidity the whole time, so were not inclined to snap pictures at every moment, but here are a few highlights: