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This sense of parody and backwardness is made evident in the text. When Irene-Iris reveals her desire to become a femme plancher, the text makes it clear that such a desire is no longer appropriate to a modern woman. 43 This backward glance is underscored by the oldfashioned, sexist phrasing. Unfortunately, “woman floor” is confusing — suggesting, perhaps, the all-female part of a dormitory. I had to find another solution; and I initially chose “she-floor,” which borrows the prefix used for certain female animals — for instance, “shewolves” and “she-bears.” However, upon speaking with Parenteau-Lebeuf, I understood that femme plancher is funny in French: the image of the femme plancher was a favorite of audiences of the original production. Parenteau- Lebeuf suggested “floorwoman” for femme plancher. I have chosen to follow Parenteau- Lebeuf’s lead: “floorwoman” is more humorous because of the super-hero resonance (“Superwoman,” “Catwoman”). In addition to finding/creating feminine English nouns that reflected the French, I also chose at times to allow the gender of certain French nouns to dictate pronoun choice in English. In places, the gender of certain nouns seemed important to the text, so I found ways to allow French gender to seep into the English. One such example is la Boule, a dominant image in the latter half of the play. Before I describe how I dealt with the gender of this noun, let me first describe how I translated the word itself. La Boule means literally “the Ball.” In the text, it refers to a terrible physical and psychological pain exclusive to women. La Boule is a feeling of distress that Irene-Iris feels in her stomach. It is also described as “an executioner in the belly” / “un bourreau dans le ventre.” 44 When Irene-Iris, at age sixteen, first confronts her mother about la Boule, her mother refuses to talk about it. 45 The text indicates that la Boule is difficult to describe; it follows that the word is difficult to translate. After much experimentation, I settled on “the Knot” as my translation: “Knot” suggests both a twisted feeling inside (a “knot in the stomach”) and “Not” or “lack” referred to by French feminists like Luce Irigaray. Before I arrived at “Knot,” I rejected two alternatives: “Ball” because it is an unnecessarily masculine image (suggesting a testicle) and “Pit” because of ambiguity, since the term can mean either the hard center of a fruit (like a “peach pit”) or a “hole in the ground.” Since la Boule is described as something almost palpable, “a hole in the ground” did not seem appropriate. During a face-to-face encounter, I asked Parenteau- Lebeuf to explain la Boule to me. Affirming my understanding that la Boule is something felt deep within a person, Parenteau-Lebeuf relied on gesture in her description: as she spoke, she clenched her fists and contorted her face and body. La Boule is something oppressive, like a Knot, that comes from within and causes outward distress. Because la Boule is specifically depicted in the text as something that women have, I thought that the noun’s feminine gender was significant. For that reason, I used a feminine pronoun when translating the phrase, “Elle fait partie de vous, croyez-moi.” 46 A literal translation of this line is “It makes up a part of you, believe me.” However, the French elle can be translated as either she or it. Though a boule would typically be an “it,” I decided to make more explicit the connection between la Boule and femininity, present in the elle. I translated the line as “She’s a part of you, your Knot — believe me.” Because English speakers would not be familiar with an inanimate object like a Boule referred to as a “she,” the subject is reinserted to make explicit what the “she” is. In this case, I developed a strategy that used gendered pronouns in a way that reflected French rather than English convention. Strategy 3: Closelaboration Collaboration with the author is the last strategy that I will discuss. This method is key to feminist translation theory; scholar Isabel Garayta refers to collaboration as “a trademark of feminist translation of today’s women authors.” 47 Similarly, Simon points out that much of feminist translation arises from a “willful collusion and cooperation between text, 22 Translation Review
author and translator.” 48 I like the term “closelaboration,” derived from translator Suzanne Jill Levine’s: suggesting that the working bond between author and translator is unique, Levine uses “closelaboration” to refer to this relationship; the term was coined by Guillermo Cabrera Infante, a Cuban author with whom Levine worked closely. 49 With Parenteau- Lebeuf, I have been fortunate to find an author who showed immediate and sustained interest in working with me. As I have described the process of translation and my decisions on specific choices, I have often revealed that I sought the guidance of Parenteau-Lebeuf as author. Her English is quite good, having spent a year in Australia and making a portion of her income as a translator from English to French. In the course of working on The Feminist’s Daughter and “Pearloid C,” we exchanged countless e-mails. I have also managed to see her face-to-face on several occasions. 50 To illustrate the “closelaboration” that occurred between us, I will briefly recount some experiences in working on “Pearloid C.” Almost immediately after beginning our e-mail correspondence, we began an English translation of her “Nacre C,” the short play that is part of Filles de guerres lasses. In the first place, I was confused about the title. “Nacre” is French for “mother-of-pearl.” Translated quite literally, the playlet’s title is “Mother-of-pearl C.” I referred to the play to see how “Nacre C” was used. In the play, Nacre C is a skin disease, found only in women, that makes their skin pearl-like and beautiful to men. Later in the play, as Nacre C becomes epidemic, the disease is marketed on billboards as if it were a cosmetic. I needed, then, a title that could work for both a disease and a brand of perfume. At this point, I consulted Parenteau-Lebeuf and asked her for thoughts on the title. She pointed out to me that “Nacre C” is an anagram for “cancer” (the same in French as in English): by linking an ornamental substance with an insidious disease, the title links beauty with death. Parenteau- Lebeuf said that, while she realized the anagram was not obvious upon hearing, she hoped that they would leave traces in the hearers’ minds. Attempting to recreate this effect, I tried to find an anagram for the title. Unable to find an anagram, I eventually decided on “Pearloid C” as the title. The morpheme “pearl” captures the sense of beauty present in “nacre” (“mother of pearl”). I chose to combine “pearl” with the suffix “-oid”: this way, the title retains the trace of disease present in the original “cancer” anagram. I chose “-oid” over other suffixes, such as “-itis,” because I felt that “-oid” suggests illness (as in “rheumatoid”) while not being too obvious. I left the floating “C” in “Pearloid C” because I felt it suggested a commodity to be marketed, like “Chanel No. 5.” When I wrote to Parenteau-Lebeuf and explained my choice, she was pleased. Another illustration of “closelaboration” in action involves my choice of the English title, The Feminist’s Daughter. In this case, I considered Parenteau-Lebeuf’s suggestions weighed against my own knowledge of English usage. The French title, Dévoilement devant notaire, literally means Unveiling before Notary. According to Parenteau-Lebeuf, the French title is “a sexy and mysterious title” / “un titre sexy et mystérieux” to native speakers. 51 In contrast, a literal English translation, Unveiling before Notary, struck me as awkward and clunky. On several occasions, Parenteau-Lebeuf suggested that I simply use the title Unveiling; however, I feel that “unveiling” and dévoilement are not the same. To me, “unveiling” suggests something light and joyful — a new automobile revealed at a show, a painting displayed in a gallery. While dévoilement can also have these meanings, the “unveiling” that Parenteau- Lebeuf writes about is more painful, involving exposure. In English, veils are lifted — they almost float off — so that what is underneath can meet with another’s appreciation. In French — or, at least, in Parenteau-Lebeuf’s work — unveiling is violent: it is a slow, painful, yet ultimately healthful process. For a time, I considered using as title Deveiling — which orthographically suggests “deveining,” ripping veins out of something. In the end, I decided on The Feminist’s Daughter, which does not Translation Review 23
Page 1 and 2: Translation Review Number Seventy-f
Page 3: TABLE OF CONTENTS Editorial: The In
Page 6 and 7: What can the translator bring to fu
Page 8 and 9: AN INTERVIEW WITH JOAN LINDGREN: TH
Page 10 and 11: greatly. I had hopes of meeting the
Page 12 and 13: grammatical rules, for example —
Page 14 and 15: NOTES ON “NOTES ON TRANSLATION”
Page 16 and 17: source, calling in. But the transla
Page 18 and 19: seem to believe, in the superiority
Page 20 and 21: FEMINIST TRANSLATION AS INTERPRETAT
Page 22 and 23: Feminist Translation in Practice To
Page 24 and 25: in the current age. The play hinges
Page 28 and 29: attempt to translate the title but
Page 30 and 31: 18 Ibid., 30. 19 As one can see, my
Page 32 and 33: HINOJOSA’S SELF-TRANSLATION OF DE
Page 34 and 35: of this collocation means that Jeh
Page 36 and 37: linked to personal affairs and fami
Page 38 and 39: information: Noddy has flown up to
Page 40 and 41: lexicon and taxonomies; his play ac
Page 42 and 43: plowed ground); helve (275: handle
Page 44 and 45: enterprise… and you turned a deaf
Page 46 and 47: soapweed (105), piñon and scruboak
Page 48 and 49: and serapes (199). These are words
Page 50 and 51: Quiere trabajo, said the old man. Q
Page 52 and 53: dialogue, in which the captain (met
Page 54 and 55: to which McCarthy translates in Blo
Page 56 and 57: Spanished as “Nueva Orleans” (a
Page 58 and 59: he said. (90) We thought you was in
Page 60 and 61: eader becomes disoriented and often
Page 62 and 63: For each fire is all fires, the fir
Page 64 and 65: That is the way it was and will be.
Page 66 and 67: structure anticipating the presence
Page 68 and 69: translation are an integral element
Page 70 and 71: Woodward, Richard B. “Cormac McCa
Page 72 and 73: suggested that I look at Feydeau, a
Page 74 and 75: of research. I put them aside, and
Page 76 and 77:
NS: You try to get both, if possibl
Page 78 and 79:
All Gall: Malicious Monologues and
Page 80 and 81:
momentary isle of eternity, and now
Page 82 and 83:
individually, however, they are rat
Page 84 and 85:
Akutagawa, Ryūnosuke. Rashōmon an
Page 86 and 87:
the Japanese (“in some way, perha
Page 88 and 89:
Many Latin American writers have ha
Page 90:
features of American life, which Pa
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