Subject
Re: Nabokov and Translation (fwd)
Date
Body
Allow me to enter the debate as one of Nabokov's guinea pigs: I actually
used his translation and commentary as he intended - as a "trot." I
believe that his experiment has been a smashing success.
I first stumbled upon the Onegin controversy when I casually picked up
THE NABOKOV-WILSON LETTERS, edited by Simon Karlinsky, and only then
because a friend of mine had studied Russian Literature with Karlinsky
at Berkeley. She assured me that the latter was a great professor. I
was only vaguely aware of Nabokov and Wilson.
I was tantalized and frustrated by the words printed in Russian
letters. It also seemed to me that either Wilson was a particularly
dense student of Russian, or Nabokov was a poor teacher (alas, poor
Edmund!), but with no personal knowledge of Russian, I had no way of
understanding the nuances of Karlinsky's explanations of Wilson's
howlers and blunders. I decided to learn the Russian alphabet, and then
some Russian words, and then... My progress was slow but inexorable: I
had caught the Nabokov bug. By the way, the very first Russian word I
learned - courtesy of Vladimir Nabokov - was "govnyuk." It was uphill
from there, and, inevitably, I sought out "A Reply to My Critics" and
VN's translation of EO.
His translation and commentary should only be read with the original
Russian in hand. Otherwise one is missing the point entirely, and
neither Nabokov's nor Pushkin's work can be properly appreciated by the
native English-speaking reader. If VN's translation does not lead the
reader directly to Pushkin's original, the reader has failed - certainly
not the author.
After reading and re-reading VN's translation and commentary, I can no
longer wade through cheesy rhyming translations without laughing out
loud. I wish VN were here to review Douglas R. Hofstadter's brand-new,
dismal EO. It slavishly follows Pushkin's rhyme scheme, and has thus
been described as "faithful." Yep, it sure does rhyme - in a
frightening, robotic, tortured kind of way. But anyone who thinks he or
she is reading Pushkin's poetry is pathetically deluded...
--- Neal McCabe
used his translation and commentary as he intended - as a "trot." I
believe that his experiment has been a smashing success.
I first stumbled upon the Onegin controversy when I casually picked up
THE NABOKOV-WILSON LETTERS, edited by Simon Karlinsky, and only then
because a friend of mine had studied Russian Literature with Karlinsky
at Berkeley. She assured me that the latter was a great professor. I
was only vaguely aware of Nabokov and Wilson.
I was tantalized and frustrated by the words printed in Russian
letters. It also seemed to me that either Wilson was a particularly
dense student of Russian, or Nabokov was a poor teacher (alas, poor
Edmund!), but with no personal knowledge of Russian, I had no way of
understanding the nuances of Karlinsky's explanations of Wilson's
howlers and blunders. I decided to learn the Russian alphabet, and then
some Russian words, and then... My progress was slow but inexorable: I
had caught the Nabokov bug. By the way, the very first Russian word I
learned - courtesy of Vladimir Nabokov - was "govnyuk." It was uphill
from there, and, inevitably, I sought out "A Reply to My Critics" and
VN's translation of EO.
His translation and commentary should only be read with the original
Russian in hand. Otherwise one is missing the point entirely, and
neither Nabokov's nor Pushkin's work can be properly appreciated by the
native English-speaking reader. If VN's translation does not lead the
reader directly to Pushkin's original, the reader has failed - certainly
not the author.
After reading and re-reading VN's translation and commentary, I can no
longer wade through cheesy rhyming translations without laughing out
loud. I wish VN were here to review Douglas R. Hofstadter's brand-new,
dismal EO. It slavishly follows Pushkin's rhyme scheme, and has thus
been described as "faithful." Yep, it sure does rhyme - in a
frightening, robotic, tortured kind of way. But anyone who thinks he or
she is reading Pushkin's poetry is pathetically deluded...
--- Neal McCabe