The Wide-Road Linguist

Improving Translation (II): permitir

As we all know, the Spanish verb permitir means ‘allow’ or ‘permit’. I’m sure we all also know that it doesn’t always lend itself to that translation in every text; however, there are those who insist on using it in all their English renditions. Take this example:

 

El género se encuentra entre los factores clave gestionados por la herramienta, lo que permite proyectar equipos con mayor participación femenina.

 

The translator had put:

 

Gender is one of the key factors managed by the tool, which allows for designing teams with greater female participation.

 

In another example from the same text:

 

La consulta permitió constatar que más del 90% de los empleados se muestra satisfecho con los cursos de prevención…

 

The translator had put:

 

The consultation allowed confirmation of the fact that more than 90% of employees were satisfied with the prevention courses…

 

In other texts and similar contexts, I have also seen permitir translated into English as enable or make it possible. For example:

 

Gender is one of the key factors managed by the tool, which makes it possible to design teams with greater female participation

 

Or:

 

The consultation enabled confirmation of the fact that more than 90% of employees were satisfied with the prevention courses…

 

I find this use of allow, permit, enable or make it possible somewhat clumsy and unnatural and would suggest the following:

 

(i) Use the verb mean:

 

Gender is one of the key factors managed by the tool, which means that teams can be designed with greater female participation.

 

(ii) Leave it out and use the secondary verb or noun in Spanish as the verb in English:

 

The consultation confirmed/showed/revealed that more than 90% of employees were satisfied with the prevention courses…

 

My next post will look at weight distribution in Spanish and English sentences.

Improving Translation (I): se realizará a través de…

The construction given in the title to this post is very common in Spanish and I have seen it used with verbs other than realizar: se desarrollará; se completará; se hará; etc. Some translators tend to render a calque (examples from actual source texts):

El acceso al sistema se realizará a través de…
is translated as:
Access to the system will be made through…

La implantación del proyecto se desarrollará…
is rendered by:
The implementation of the project will be developed…

El desarrollo del trabajo se materializará…
is given as:
The development of the work will be carried out (for example)…

El diseño de la aplicación se hará…
is transferred as:
The design of the application will be completed (for example)…

All the above are ‘correct’, but somewhat clumsy; I’m sure you’d agree. One way of dealing with this kind of expression without wasting too much time or too many brain cells is to turn the subject in Spanish into the verb in English:

El acceso al sistema se realizará a través de…
is more naturally translated as:
The system will be accessed through…

La implantación del proyecto se desarrollará…
is more naturally rendered by:
The project will be implemented…

El desarrollo del trabajo se materializará…
is more naturally given as:
The idea will be developed…

El diseño de la aplicación se hará…
is more naturally transferred as:
The application will be designed…

More ideas on improving translation in my next post.

Improving Translation (introduction)

This series of articles looks at the literal, somewhat clumsy (and occasionally incorrect) Spanish-English translation of certain phrases, expressions and words I’ve come across while revising others’ (and indeed my own) work. As the title suggests, the aim is to help avoid the rendering of acceptable Spanish wordiness into often awkward and largely unacceptable wordiness in English.

Translating is no easy task, as all translators know. Not only is the actual linguistic process complex and, in my opinion, somewhat unnatural, but there are also 'external' forces involved that make the whole process even more delicate: tight and sometimes impossible deadlines; terminology requirements that don’t respond to what trips off the tongue; clients on the phone every five minutes wanting the text even earlier or other clients wanting their text squeezed in before everything else; domestic duties (especially freelancers working from home); not to mention computer crashes and petulant software. And all that sometimes means less than the desired amount of attention and concentration given to the translation process itself.

The result is often a target text that shines proud with client-required terminology while it overflows with literal syntax.

While I’m on the subject of literal translation, I must point out that there are many times when it is appropriate and, indeed, times when it is absolutely necessary. I have come across an unfounded and often mistaken bias against literal translation (from clients and even from translators and revisers). Indeed, there are certain texts that have to be translated literally despite their unnaturalness (usually for legal reasons, but not always).

However, moving on with the theme of this series, I’ve noticed (and I’m sure I’m not the only one) that there are certain expressions in Spanish that lend themselves to correct but literal (and awkward) translations in English. Such translations can be easily avoided if the translator is aware of and spots the Spanish expressions in the text and has the right turn-of-phrase at his fingertips in English (I have them plastered on a whiteboard opposite my desk).

These expressions and phrases and their translation into English are what I’ll be looking at here.

You must/shall/will/may go to the Ball

Creating obligations in contracts is not an off-the-cuff skill, apparently, and I’ve come across a good number of translations from Spanish to English that rely far too heavily on the use of shall or ignore it completely.

 

Other writers have had their say on the matter and, as you can imagine, there’s not a great deal left to be said as far as actually writing contracts in English from scratch is concerned. However, my grain of sand comes in the form of translating obligations, statuses and future actions in contracts.

 

Status

An example taken from the section on the definitions of the terms used in a contract:

 

· "CONTRATO" y/o “Proyecto” significa el Contrato firmado por…

 

Translating this status with shall mean would be incorrect, with means or refers to taking the top slot. Shall should not be used to translate a status.

 

Future action

An example from the same contract with an if clause:

 

· Si las anteriores anomalías son reiteradas o de mala fe, serán motivo…

 

Translating the future action with shall be would also be an error, with will be taking pole position. Shall should not be used in a contract to translate a future action.

 

Obligation

Use shall to create an obligation in the sense of has a duty to (cf. Bryan A. Garner, A Dictionary of Modern Legal Usage 940–941 (2d ed., Oxford U. Press 1995)), which means not using it in a passive form.

 

An example:

 

 · El Agente alquilará las Instalaciones a…

 

Agent has the duty to let the premises; the premises don't have the duty to be let by Agent, so the translation wouldn't be:

 

· The Premises shall be let to… by Agent

 

But rather,

 

· Agent shall let the premises to…

 

Use shall to translate an obligation.

 

You can also use will to translate an obligation (promises), though I personally prefer to keep to shall as it seems to be generally understood in the legal world as a contractual obligation, whereas will could be misunderstood (mistakenly or otherwise, I presume) as mere future action.

 

An example:

 

· El Agente se responsabilizará…

 

· Agent will assume the responsibility…

 

With will, a very shady ‘at some point in the future’ could hang over the interpretation, whereas with shall:

 

· Agent shall assume the responsibility…

 

The ambiguity of future action/obligation disappears and Agent’s duty to assume his responsibility steps in.

 

There are those who advocate the use of must in contracts because, in their opinion, writers seem to find the correct use of shall too difficult and because it’s archaic (cf. Michèle M. Asprey, Shall Must Go, 3 Scribes J. Leg. Writing 79 (1992)).

 

Possibility

May indicates possibility (can, occasionally confused with may, points to an ability – and, anyway, be able to sounds much better for legalese if ability ever has to be translated) and it has nothing to do with contractual obligations. So only use it to translate a possibility:

 

· El Agente puede elegir una de las dos opciones ofrecidas por…

 

There is no obligation to choose anything here; Agent has been given a possibility, so the concept should be rendered as may choose/opt for rather than the somewhat out-of-place shall choose/opt for

 

Capitals, Capitals and More Capitals

I can cope with turning the common-noun parties to a contract into proper nouns (Supplier, Principal, Buyer, etc.). I can even cope with the first-letter capitalisation of the relevant elements (Product, Services, Company, Work, etc.), all of which are usually preceded by “hereinafter called” in the preamble and, by the way, go without definite articles (it’s not “the Supplier”, but simply “Supplier”), but things seem to be getting out of hand in some of the contracts (and, indeed, other texts) my work providers are pushing through my virtual letterbox.

I’ve been getting contracts drawn up in Spanish with THE SUPPLIER written just like that and the word Department also written just like that, as well as other examples of Germanic-type nouns, all of which are completely ignored in the preamble and hereinafters. They’ve even started using them with nouns preceded by indefinite articles, which is a Contradiction in terms if ever there was one: "...whereby Supplier shall contact a Department at Company to…”. Indeed He shall. I dare say God will soon be a party (or should that be Party?) to every contract written in Spain. Why is this happening and what can be done?

The answer to both questions is quite simple: ignorance.

Many contracts are drawn up by people who specialise in the legal loopholes and formalities that have to be included or avoided in a contract, but that’s often as far as their specialisation goes (and that in itself is a very long way, of course). I get the feeling (and it’s only a feeling) that some kind of world-stopping relevance booms out from their monitors if they write a word with an initial capital: quite clearly, a department does not deserve as much respect as a Department; and we all have to bow our heads if it’s a DEPARTMENT; and simply fall to our knees if it’s a DEPARTMENT highlighted in MS-Word yellow.

You can find lots of example contracts on the Internet (just Google “example of a contract”; here’s one) and you’ll see that except for the parties and relevant items provided in the preamble and preceded by “hereinafter called", English doesn’t cater for THE SUPPLIER or a Department. As far as I know, neither does Spanish, so my advice to you is that you ignore them and write the English version in English, not some kind of translation version your client might be less likely to question because you've imitated his ‘style’.

And if he does complain, politely point out his ignorance and earn yourself some master points.

Briefs or Boxers

I prefer boxers. Not only are they more comfortable, they’re also good in a ring. No, wait a minute; I appear to have grasped the wrong end of the language staff again...

Given the context of this article, you'd have to be a pretty obtuse linguist not to realise that the title has nothing to do with underwear, but maybe this silly, rather forced example has served its fleeting purpose: briefs are essential or translators can end up doing all sorts of unnecessary and, to the layman’s eyes, stupid things.

Language is not at all black and white; it’s not even a million shades of grey. It's written in colours, and not just the standard colours we can all see and talk about. The language palette is stodged with the colours in the writer’s mind, the colours on the reader's fingertips and the colours on the brush wielded by the person who’s actually paying you to translate the text. That’s why, as a translator, you need to be lulled gently and occasionally shoulder-barged down the right road.

If you’re worth your weight in dictionaries and translation memories you’ll spot a legal text a mile off. You’ll do the same with a text written for tourists or a menu for culture-hungry diners, but unless you’ve been collaborating with a client for a few years and know how and why he writes the way he does, you might well miss the nuances in his work (or indeed see them where no one else can). That's why you need a brief. You need to be told what to do, where the writer is, where the reader is and where you, the translator, are. You should always ask for a brief if one doesn’t come with the order. Not only will it help you immensely with the task of actually translating, it’ll also help you deal with any feedback and quite possibly save you lots of time and the odd client or two.

A brief shouldn’t focus exclusively on the linguistic issues in the project, it also needs to include technical instructions, such as (i) the format you have to send the target text in (.doc, .txt., .pdf or even an uncleaned TM file, the possibilities grow in number each month); (ii) if and which CAT programme you have to use (indeed, briefs requiring the use of automatic translation programmes have started to appear of late); (iii) whether or not you’ve been or will be sent a TM to work with; and (iv) you need to know if you have to copy the formatting (bold, italics, underlines, etc.) or if it is to be done later by someone else.

These issues are not only important for you to work as your client wants but also for you to work at the right price and leave enough room on your agenda to meet your deadline.

Of course, you should also be briefed on any linguistic issues: (i) the source and target languages; (ii) glossaries should be sent (or asked for), especially if the document contains terms that are specific to the client; (iii) anything that strays from or is not provided in the norm needs to be made clear (e.g. the translation of institutional names, the use of source-text place names when there are target-text versions, what to do with untranslatables, the use of explanations in brackets or footnotes, etc.); (iv) you also need to be told who the target reader is; and (v) you need to know if there are any particular points of style you need to follow.

I also find it convenient for the brief to provide the administrative details about the job, such as delivery time and date, number of source words and rate agreed for the job. It's good to have everything in the same place rather than having to scan sent and received e-mails for all the bits and bobs, which takes up valuable translation time. And don’t leave your brief hanging in the air after a phone call (or a chat on Messenger); make sure you get it in writing. If your client “doesn’t have the time”, summarise it yourself in an e-mail and ask him to simply confirm the details.

I’m always surprised at the number of times I have to specifically request a brief and even more surprised at the number of times I’m given “there isn’t one” as a reply. I’m sure ‘official’ quality assurance standards must have something to say about this, but I admit my ignorance (and laziness at the present time). Whatever they have to say (or not, as the case may be), if you translate without a brief, you’re looking down the wrong end of the translation barrel and you’re probably spending more time doing more work at the wrong rate.

 

1808 all over again

À la marinière or a la marinera; that is the question:

Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind (that is the real question).

Let’s face it, English cuisine struggles for its own personality, its own ‘uniqueness’. As a result, it struggles for its own ‘unique’ culinary language and tends to shovel many of its linguistic leftovers into the Gallicism doggy bag.

The English language has two words for what the Spanish quite happily refer to as cerdo whether it be rolling around in farmyard dirt or keeping quite still on your plate. English also has two words for the Spanish vaca, whereas the latter is at home with the same word whether it be grazing in a field or sizzling in a pan. This duplicity has nothing to do with not admitting to eating dead animals. That's not why the English call one pig and the other pork or one cow and the other beef. No, it has to do with the Normans: after 1066, it became socially correct in England to use the French when the animal was served as food. Thus, boeuf for cooked cows, which quite obviously became beef, and porc for cooked pigs (nowadays pork, of course). The same happened with sheep (mouton and then mutton), but apparently not with chicken. I confess my ignorance on this one. Perhaps eating coq was considered below the noble table.

Jumping a few centuries and skipping over the odd event or two, restaurants in England today serve dishes à la marinière, au poivre and au vin and don’t seem overly concerned that what they've actually written on the menu is French. Gallicisms of this sort have been readily assumed and pidgin-holed [sic] in generally used language. I have no personal or professional problem with that; I'm happy to see a language alive and adapting. No, my objection is another matter: cultural domination or, more accurately, cultural subjection.

Two of my secondary specialities as a translator are oenology and gastronomy, which very often boil down to tasting cards and menus, and I am often asked to revise my colleagues’ work. On more than one occasion, I have come across translators who render the Spanish merluza a la marinera into English as hake (à la) marinière. I know why they do it, but I often wonder if they're fully aware of what they’re actually doing and, more significantly, if the restaurant-owners and the chefs who create the meals are aware of what their translator is doing to them.

I can accept an English chef describing his fish dish as (à la) marinière (though you’ll often hear chefs on the BBC highlight the intrusion and say something like “it’s what the French call à la marinière”). After all, French has been used to describe English cuisine for centuries and there are plenty of historical events to justify it. However, I can’t accept the translation of a dish from one culture into a second culture with a concept borrowed from a third culture; that's cultural subjection.

Spain has a very important culinary tradition, its chefs are among the best in the world and their dishes are rated by the top gourmets (and bottom gourmands, believe me). Spain has its own unique cuisine and conveying its gastronomical brilliance into English by using a French (or any other language) ‘equivalent’ is disrespectful no matter how more readable it might make the menu. We're translating a culture here, not just information. In fact, translating a la marinera as (à la) marinière is very often incorrect. Although similar as far as ingredients are concerned, they're not the same, and they’re not the same because they’re the fruit of two different cultures and one should therefore not be subjected to or dominated by the other.

From where I’m translating, merluza a la marinera should be transferred quite respectfully (and indeed, exotically) as hake a la marinera; cuscurros should be left as cuscurros, not turned into croutons; and a la pimienta should be left as it is or, as a last resort, served in a pepper sauce, but under no circumstances should it be rendered by au poivre. I also prefer to see leek soup or cream of leek instead of vichyssoise. The diner is not in France or in the UK; the diner is in Spain and the menu he’s reading should highlight that fact as far as possible. Dining out in a foreign country is a form of cultural immersion and that exercise should be portrayed by the words written on the menu.

The concept of cultural subjection also applies to the wine world. As with its gastronomy and cuisine, Spain’s wines are very much in vogue and growing in popularity, complexity and sophistication (even wines from the Toro D.O. no longer dissolve the palate). This ‘new-found’ sophistication deserves its own personality, its own mark and, consequently, its own ‘language’. Legal issues aside and despite the similarities, you wouldn’t suggest on the record that a Cava wine is a Champagne (I hope), so why use terms such as bâtonnage or soutirage in your translation when Spanish has its own (bastoneo and trasiego, respectively)? Doing so puts French wines and French winemaking methods above their Spanish counterparts on the rankings of tradition, authenticity and, more importantly from a marketing point of view, authority and I doubt that your clients invested all their talent, knowhow, time and money for you to put your foot in their grape bucket and, for example, tell their potential customers and wine enthusiasts in general that their wines belong to such and such an appellation in Spain (Napoleon on the march again?) when they’re actually from such and such a denominación de origen.

Political Correctness (and, by the way, welcome to my blog)

I thought I’d start this blog off by defining my approach to political correctness so as to (a) explain what my stance is and (b) hopefully avoid upsetting my future readers.

 

I shall endeavour to be politically correct in all my posts (within the limitations of my human condition); however, if I refer to the anonymous third-person singular at any time during my writing, I shall be using the masculine he, him or his. The reason for that is simply because I find the style of texts that cater for both genders clumsy and, quite possibly because I’m a male or because I wasn't taught it at school (there I go blaming God and my teachers again), I find writing the feminine equivalent awkward. The use of the third-person plural for the third-person singular is far too much for my mental agility and I've got myself into sorry states when trying to fit it into translations (not to mention the hours I’ve wasted changing everything). Believe me, it doesn't work all the time and if cohesion is your goal (and on one level or another it should be), if something doesn’t work all the time, you shouldn’t use it any of the time. Anyway, as far as I’m concerned, the issue is personal and writers should choose the approach they prefer for the style they want to put across. After all, it is their text (third-person plurals, just in case you’re wondering).

 

Of course, if any of my briefs instruct me to use the he/she ignominy or the feminine for anonymous third-person singular references, then I do as I’m told, like the begrudgingly obedient translator I sometimes am. After all, there’s no point in biting the hand that feeds you… or is there? More about that in another post.

 

Thanks for logging onto my blog and please feel free to contribute as you think fit, but do bear in mind that any gratuitous unpleasantness might get deleted; the world’s enough off-track as it is.

I intend to be posting whenever I get an hour or two, which is a rarity these days, I admit. However, I have promised my virtual self that I shall post at least once a week (probably Sunday evening). My next effort will be titled something along the lines of A la marinera or à la marinière… domestication, foreignisation and cultural domination. Interesting if you’re a linguist, vital if you own a restaurant. Next course please, waiter…