The author Kamila Shamsie brings up an interesting point in her recent article for The Guardian. If an author writes a novel and if this novel is then translated into another language can the author still reasonably see the work as their own?

Shamsie’s investigation arises from her own experience of a ‘misinterpretation’ of one of her works. An Italian reader interpreted the ending of her novel as showing the death of a lead protagonist, when although Shamsie intended to show a death she was actually showing the demise of a completely different character.

If we dispute ownership of a translation then we must ask: what is it that makes the ‘original work’ the authors to own? There may be an idea, plot, characters but the first thing the reader encounters is the words. Words in sentences. Now words can be tricky in translations, some languages have multiple words for something (canis/canem for ‘dog’), some have one word with multiple meanings (leaf/page), some even have no words that are equivalent to another language’s (Polish has no word for ‘years’ in English). Translation can therefore rob an author of their words.

Furthermore, different languages have different syntactical structures. Words are placed in seemingly strange orders, with different words in the sentence prioritised (whether noun, adjective, verb etc.) This means translation can rob an author of their sentences. With both words and sentences ‘corrupted’ the entire style of the author may therefore be compromised. The distinctive voice of the author is gone.

With these ‘issues’ in consideration, translation could be seen to work most effectively with authors whose style is seen as unconventional within their own language. Late German author Von Rezzori believed that “my mentality is not German”, so when his works were published in Italian his widow felt the translator had perfectly embodied her husband’s voice despite the language change. But readers sometimes deliberately choose works from other cultures to gain an understanding of that culture’s life; if for example an Icelandic work has been hispanisized then the reader looses some of the flavour of the Icelandic culture that is so interwined with its language.

What are translators then if not builders following architect’s blueprints?

They have built the walls, painted them, screwed on the doors; but wait occupant one wants a formal dining table and occupant two a trendy breakfast bar. The ultimate design is left to the readers.

The dualistic structure of architect and builder creates works that can be produced worldwide, works that are then interpreted through the eyes of each individual reader.

But if a reader’s experience of a text differs from the author’s intentions then does the new interpretation belong to the author, or the reader; or is it the property of the text from which it sprung?

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