The National Endowment for the Arts announced that Amalia Gladhart will receive an NEA Literature Translation Fellowship
The National Endowment for the Arts announced that Amalia Gladhart will receive an NEA Literature Translation Fellowship of $12,500. Gladhart is one of 22 Literature Translation Fellows for fiscal year 2018. In total, the NEA is recommending $300,000 in grants this round to support the new translation of fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry from 15 different languages into English.
The author of 30 novels, short story collections, and essays, Angélica Gorodischer (b. 1928) is known for her science fiction, fantasy, crime, and feminist writing. She is the recipient of numerous national and international awards, including the World Fantasy Award for Lifetime Achievement previously won by such writers as Ray Bradbury, Ursula K. Le Guin, and Stephen King. Published in 2005, Jaguars’ Tomb is a 218-page novel of 3 distinct parts that addresses the difficulty of representing absence, including those absences left by the abductions and disappearances that occurred during the military dictatorship in Argentina’s “Dirty War” of 1976-83. Each of the sections repeats images from the others and circles a central space that, though it serves different functions in each section, always has a sense of loss at its center.
Amalia Gladhart is a translator and professor of Spanish at the University of Oregon and Head of the Department of Romance Languages. She has written widely on contemporary Latin American literature and performance. Her translations include The Potbellied Virgin and Beyond the Islands, both by Alicia Yánez Cossío; and Trafalgar, by Angélica Gorodischer. Her collection of prose poems, Detours, was published by Burnside Review Press. Her short fiction appears in Saranac Review, The Fantasist, Atticus Review, Eleven Eleven, and elsewhere.
Prof. Sergio Rigoletto has published an essay titled ‘Against the Telelological Preseumption: Notes on Queer Visibility in Contemporary Italian Film’ in The Italianist 37: 2, 2017. The essay is concerned with some of the problems involved in the task of narrating the queer self. At a time in which positive queer representations have become increasingly common in Italian cinema and other media, it is worth asking what conditions underpin the present regime of queer visibility and what alternative queer experiences have been either obscured or marginalized. The first half of the essay explores the recent popularity of the coming out narrative in the Italian context. The essay asks what epistemological assumptions underlie the metaphor of coming out and how such assumptions have come to affect the terms under which queerness appears now visible in Italian cinema and other media. The second section of the essay focuses on several recent Italian documentaries including La bocca del lupo (Marcello: 2009), Felice chi è diverso (Amelio: 2013) and Le coccinelle. Sceneggiata transessuale (Pirelli: 2011). The essay shows the complex ways in which these films deploy their dissident strategies of queer self-revelation and configurations of social legibility.
Le coccinelle. Transsexual Melodrama (Pirelli: 2011)
Leonardo García-Pabón, Professor of Spanish, has published a book entitled El cuento sentimental romántico en Bolivia (siglo XIX) (La Paz, Bolivia: Plural Ediciones, 2017). This book is a 400 pages anthology of short stories of the romantic period in Bolivia (19th century). The anthology is preceded by an extensive introductory study (100 pages) that analyses the articulations of love, nation building, and narratives in the short stories. This anthology recuperates six representative short stories of the so-called sentimental romantic mode, which had been thus far overlooked by scholars and historians. These texts were originally published in journals, magazines, and newspapers in Bolivia and Peru, and this is their first modern edition.
In the introduction, Professor García-Pabón proposes a new classification of Bolivian narrative of the 19th century, separating short stories from novels (and other narratives). Moreover, his study examines each one of the six short stories in the anthology, showing the historical shift from romantic idealism predominant in the middle of the century to social realism being prevalent at the end of the century. His reading also highlights the different notions of nation, gender, love, and subjectivities that appear in these texts.
“Mongo Beti and his Critic” derives from Djiffack’s three-volume edition published by Gallimard, ‘Mongo Beti: Le Rebelle I, II and III (2007, 2008), an anthology of Beti’s non-fiction writing. This two-volume book involves the compilation, annotation and editing of texts responding to Mongo Beti. This publication aims to serve as reference book for scholars interested in more comprehensive and contrasted views on colonial and postcolonial studies, gender issues and democracy, African studies and ethnicity, third-world problems and international studies, cultural identities and poverty in Africa.”Mongo Beti and his Critic” is a unique data base for a sound analysis of Mongo Beti, both as a writer and an activist. Thanks to Editions CLE (Yaounde), this sum of responses to Beti’s provocative ideas is currently available as a whole body of texts, and, Djiffack hopes, will stimulate new thinking in the field of colonial and postcolonial studies.
Professor of Spanish David Wacks has published an essay entitled “An Interstitial History of Medieval Iberian poetry” in The Routledge Companion to Iberian Studies Companion to Iberian Studies. (Javier Muñoz-Basols, Laura Lonsdale, and Manuel Delgado, London: Routledge, 2017)
Medieval Iberian literature shows us a poetic culture that drew on several linguistic and regional traditions, and that was characterized far more by bilingualism, diglossia, and artistic crossings than by anything approaching a monolingual sense of national culture. In this essay Wacks examines the interstices of these crossings in a series of examples of the poetic cultures of medieval Iberia: the adaptation of popular Romance and colloquial Andalusi Arabic lyric by poets working in Classical Arabic and Hebrew (10th-13th c.), the adaptation of classical Arabic poetics by Andalusi Hebrew poets (10th-14th c.), the diffusion of Provençal and Galician-Portuguese poetics throughout the Peninsula (12th-13th c.), Jewish authors’ adaptations of Romance language poetics (14th-15th c.), and the phenomenon of Aljamiado poetry, Ibero-Romance verses written in Arabic characters by crypto-Muslim writers in the 15th and 16th centuries.
The essay is available Open Acess here.
Prof. Amalia Gladhart has published “Teaching Latin American Migrations Through Theatre” in Latin American Theatre Review 50.1 (Winter 2016. The article examines how the concept of migration offers a useful organizing principle for an introduction to Latin American theatre, as it encompasses multiple theatre styles and practices. Issues of migration are often in the news (in Latin America and beyond), thereby offering a point of entry for students who may not have studied theatre in the past. Migration in its multiple forms (immigration, emigration, exile, return) has a long history in the theaters of the Americas, including not only contemporary plays set on the US-Mexico border but also Puerto Rican and Argentine theater from the first half of the twentieth century and recent theater from Ecuador, Chile, and Argentina. As a liminal space, the stage offers unique possibilities for the representation of migration. The theatre is a privileged space for the consideration of the migrant’s experience of displacement, an intrinsically provisional space, continually redefined. Theatrical techniques used to evoke the displacements of immigration, exile, and return include: narrative and temporal disruption; multiple characters played by a single actor; the mixing of languages, with and without translation; the evocation of the absent or the disappeared; and satirical or grotesque exaggeration.
Leah Middlebrook’s most recent essay, “Poetry and the Persiles: Cervantes’ Orphic Mode” appears in the most recent issue of the journal eHumanista (eHumanista/Cervantes (5). 2016. Ed. María Mercedes Alcalá Galán). Over the past number of years, she has been exploring intersections and divergences between poetry and genre; this new essay makes the case for considering Cervantes’ prose romance _Los Trabajos de Persiles y Sigismunda_ through the lens of the twenty-first century poet William Carlos Williams. Middlebrook is wrapping up her term as President of the MLA Forum on 16th and 17th century Spanish and Iberian Poetry and Prose, and she was elected to the Executive Council of the Cervantes Society of America this past Fall, for a two-year term (2017-2019).
Associate Professor of French Fabienne Moore was awarded a 2017 College of Arts Summer Stipend fellowship for the Humanities and Creative Arts to work on a new project, titled “Gustave Doré’s Histoire de la Sainte Russie (1854): The Invention of Graphic Rhetoric or the Artist At War.”
Back in 2012, Moore had received an Oregon Humanity Center Teaching fellowship and a Sherl K. Coleman and Margaret E. Guitteau Teaching Professorship in the Humanities to develop an experimental course in French on War in French Comics. After teaching the course every other year, Moore wanted to contribute to the scholarship on the emergence of comics (bande dessinée) in Europe and study one of its pioneers, Gustave Doré (1832-1883). While Doré is famous for his spectacular illustrations of masterpieces of world literature (Rabelais, Dante, Tasso, Cervantes etc.), his early “comic strips” are hardly known. “I view his Histoire pittoresque, dramatique et caricaturale de la Sainte Russie (1854) as a tour de force of what I call ‘graphic rhetoric.’ Borrowing from Rabelais’s supersized characters and humor, from Jacques Callot’s minute illustrations of war miseries in the XVIIth century, from Töpffer and Cham’s recent innovative comic strips and albums, and from his contemporary Honoré Daumier, a brilliant, twenty-two year-old Doré pioneered a new telling of history to appeal to a broad audience: it caricatured both the form and the substance of traditional historical discourse, and it offered a humorous, subjective interpretation of the enemy Russian Empire, all the while exposing the fundamental absurdity of war—its politics and its violence. With the phrase “graphic rhetoric” I wish to capture Doré’s invention of a large, complex rhetorical system imbricating text and image, in other words a language meant to persuade via a playful exchange between figures of speech and visual figures: metaphors, comparisons, hyperboles, synecdoques, ellipses, etc., are translated into images where from figurative they often become literal.”
Moore will conduct her research in Paris and in The Doré collection of the Bibliothèque des Musées in Strasbourg, which houses all of the original editions of Doré’s works, as well as hundreds of engravings of XVIIth century artist Jacques Callot, one of Doré’s source of inspiration. She will present her work this fall at the “Bibliography Among the Disciplines” conference in Philadelphia, PA in a panel on “Graphic Representation.”
Professor of Spanish David Wacks has published “Translation in Diaspora: Sephardic Spanish-Hebrew Translations in the Sixteenth Century” in A Comparative History of Literatures in the Iberian Peninsula, vol. 2. (ed. César Domínguez, Anxo Abuín González, and Ellen Sapega, Amsterdam: Benjamins, 2016, 351–363).
Spain’s Jews in 1492 were faced with the ultimatum of converting to Christianity or leaving the kingdom. Many chose to leave, but despite beginning new lives in Italy, North Africa, or the Ottoman Empire, continued to speak Spanish and consider themselves culturally Spanish Jews. Some of these ‘Sephardic’ (Sepharad is the Hebrew word for Spain) Jews translated popular Spanish novels and histories into Hebrew for diffusion among the non-Spanish Jewish communities where they lived. Their translations go further than just translating words from one language into another: they alter the values of the texts to better resonate with non-Spanish, non-Christian readers, sometimes in ways that seem heavy-handed to modern readers. What this means is that translation, for these writers, was not simply a way to gain access to new things to read; rather, it was a way to bring new materials in line with the culture of the reading community.
It is an apocalyptic take on modern-day Mexico: Conquering angels rule the nation, indigenous groups stage a vicious revolt, widespread bloodshed ensues and no clear victor emerges.
This is Edgar Clément’s Operación Bolívar, a graphic novel with themes of conquest and foreign influence that resonate just as well now as when the book was published in 1990.
Amy Poeschl first came across Clément’s highly political project in a class on Latin American comic books last year. Long a fan of graphic novels, she instantly fell for Bolívar.
So for her, it was a no-brainer to use the book as the basis for a research project in senior lecturer Amanda Powell’s class on literary translation. Students were assigned to translate a Spanish text, such as a poem or part of a book, into English.
Never mind that none of Powell’s students had ever tried to translate a graphic novel before. Or that Bolívar is filled with complicated subtexts referring to the Spanish conquest of Mexico and the United States’ presence in Latin America. Or that Poeschl was committing not just to the translation of text, but making her new English-language version align with the original book’s visually lavish and often pointedly satirical images.
“I knew it was a big challenge because I had to deal with graphics as well as the words,” said Poeschl, who graduated from the UO earlier this year with a degree in Spanish. “But I adored the graphic novel so much that it was worth it.”
In Latin America, authors have used graphic novels to tackle serious subjects for decades. Through sharp writing and detailed imagery, they’ve pushed for economic and cultural reform, provided alternate views of the region’s history and pointedly criticized authoritarianism in government.
In Mexico, officials have distributed graphic novels widely to promote literacy among the nation’s citizens, particularly the poor, and to teach the country’s history. These trends laid the groundwork for the medium’s acceptance as a legitimate form of literature by a large swath of young people; they have carried that respect and love of graphic novels into adulthood and broadened the appeal of the medium.
Putting a Puzzle Together
Poeschl translated 20 pages of the 164-page novel. She started her project with comparatively strong chops in Spanish—she’s been studying the language since middle school and her family hails from Puerto Rico.
She pored over the 20 pages she translated roughly 100 times. It was like putting a puzzle together—one that helped Poeschl realize that translation is what she loves most about Spanish. “If I could do nothing but this for the rest of my life,” she said, “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”
First, Poeschl did a rough translation of a section, then she refined it over and over. She researched each word’s meaning in English and Spanish, referring to translation dictionaries and then repeating the process panel by panel. She spent days analyzing even a single image of an angel’s body before she began writing an interpretation.
“Researching words and their etymologies was fascinating,” Poeschl said.
Given Clément’s penchant for playing with words, Poeschl felt an obligation to be meticulous even with seemingly obvious translations.
Consider the phrase “la recuperación de la conciencia.” It could be interpreted as “coming to awareness” or “reawakening,” but Poeschl ultimately translated it as “the recovery of the conscience.” That might seem to be the most logical, literal choice, but it was one that Poeschl arrived at only after revisiting the important phrase repeatedly with her classmates and Powell.
Poeschl’s solution, Powell said, subtly drew attention to how Clément skewers the corporate commercialization of basic human activities like making art, healing the sick and seeking spiritual consolation. Thus the need for a recovered conscience.
Along with weighing possible word choices, Poeschl sought to craft each English sentence to match the author’s tone—which presented another layer of challenge. In Bolívar, Clément switches freely between a colloquial voice and a professorial style of the kind you’d find in a history book.
Poeschl also decoded and translated metaphors and puns that have no English equivalent, while ensuring that the translation accurately reflected the accompanying illustrations.
In one passage, Clément, in describing angels, uses a word—“ligeros”—that means both feathery and light, but also trivial or frivolous. There is no single word in English that even comes close to all these shades of meaning, Poeschl said—but the metaphor “light as a feather” fit perfectly.
“That was one that I worked on for weeks before I finally went, ‘Oh, that’s so obvious,’” she said. “You want so much to find that perfect word and you know it’s out there.”
Shades of Meaning
Powell praised Poeschl for skillfully navigating an exceedingly complex and multifaceted novel. Bolívar interweaves allusions to indigenous, Mexican, American and European cultures with Biblical references and political satire.
Translation is more than pulling out a dictionary and plugging in a word that fits, Powell said. For Poeschl’s project, it required looking at the translation within the theme of the novel, while taking into account the particularities of the Spanish language.
“Even within a language, we have instances where no two synonyms denote or connote exactly the same thing,” Powell said. “Each has a shade of meaning, and the history of usage implies a certain thing. That’s all the more true between languages.”
For her part, Poeschl hopes her research will resonate with a larger audience than simply her teacher and classmates. She wants to reach US Latinos and Hispanics who are losing their Spanish fluency, which includes some of her friends.
She chose to translate Bolívar in part because it is filled with important ideas about Mexican history and politics that, she hopes, her friends will more easily grasp in English than Spanish.
“Part of the motivation for me to do this was I had so many friends whose Spanish wasn’t great,” Poeschl said. “I wanted to make it available to them because I knew it was going to be right up their alley.”
Literary translation is valuable as more than just a research exercise, Powell said. It can serve as ideal training for a wide range of careers, including the legal, medical and diplomatic professions.
“It is one of best preparations for any field where the language is nuanced,” Powell said.
Beyond translation, undergraduates in Romance languages have pursued many other avenues of research. Some have studied French- and Spanish-speaking communities in the US, looking at questions such as bilingualism; they have investigated how language shapes communities and how communities that share a language change over time. They have delved into topics as diverse as medieval romance and postmodern performance.
Research in Romance languages also exposes students to often-overlooked parts of the French-speaking world such as Africa, areas of the Caribbean and the Middle East and regions of Africa and South Asia that speak Portuguese.
“When you learn about Africa in high school, you may learn about French-speaking Africa, but rarely do you learn about Portuguese-speaking Africa,” said Amalia Gladhart, department head. “Undergraduate research in Romance languages exposes you to new worlds you never knew existed.”
Photo caption: In Operación Bolívar, indigenous people in Mexico wage an all-out war against a ruling class of angels. The book is filled with subtexts referring to the Spanish conquest of Mexico and the United States’ presence in Latin America.
This article appears in CASCADE http://cascade.uoregon.edu/fall2016/humanities/light-as-a-feather/
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