Thursday, May 8, 2008


After my last post, I thought something less pensive might be in order.
I wonder how many translators might ever enjoy a tipple whilst working.

Of course I’m referring to those ”freelancers” amongst us who work from the comfort of their homes, not from some enclosed coffin-like “workplace” under the stern guidance of the latest project manager.

Some believe we toil away in our pajamas, imbibing pots full of caffeine, juggling work with endless whining complaints or feckless cat fights on the various Portals. Not I. Full makeup, fetching dress, Manolos if I could ever afford them.

Let me be the first to publicly admit that, yes, I have, on occasion, enjoyed some liquid pleasure while hard at work. I’m not speaking of the tossing back of a few shots of Jameson [which I reserve for bedtime], but rather leisurely sipping a moderately priced yet respectable Cabernet Sauvignon.

It was a number of years ago when I would occasionally, but regularly, be confronted with 3000 words of intellectually demanding literary work. The deadline, self-imposed but necessary, was “5 minutes ago.”

It was not a timeframe with which I would ever be comfortable, given the nature and import of the work involved. I had been translating the gentleman in question, almost every day, for years. And, as anyone who has done such work will understand, I had come to know him. How he thought, what his referents were, his history and his words.

It was, in fact, a kind of osmosis, a necessary merging of two minds.
And, for me, the slow sipping of a bit of Everyday Red seemed to help that process, a small homage to the right side of my brain, a recognition that translation, like most that is good in the world, is not all Logos.

6 comments:

V said...

My one glass of wine comes only at the end of the day and not just because I must drive from studio to home, occasionally swinging by high school to pick up my offspring in inclement weather or to continue on to one appointment or another.

It is simply impossible to make the kind of hand-eye movements as precisely as I need if I were to take even the smallest sip of anything alcoholic. Black tea is my only drink during the workday. The old myth of the artist who drinks in his/her studio is exactly that, according to my experience. Even frankly alcoholic artists of my acquaintance wait until the day is over and even for them studio and Dionysis never meet. I have seen the work of some who have attempted to paint while drinking and the effect is immediately evident. Actually, even cold medicine can get in the way of painting. The process is just too delicate.

However, for certain kinds of work, such as scanning works on paper, retouching the digital images and either storing them for records or placing them online, or perhaps making comments about them, I often find it entirely appropriate to have my glass next to me. It is almost like sharing a glass and a conversation over lunch with a friend, because now it has become social - I am in the process of sharing the work.

And yes, occasionally late-afternoon vacuuming has been done with that same glass nearby. I imagine there are women all over my traditional, upper-middle class neighborhood making this small indulgence for themselves while kids are engaged (hopefully) in their homework, and men are (theoretically, at least) on their way home.

janet said...

Lovely to see you here.

I almost miss the translating of the gentleman in question for that very reason - the sense of conviviality, as if saying hello to an old friend.

I love your picture of the housewife allowing herself an indulgence while all goes well on the homefront. I'm afraid, though, from what I see these days, in the States at least, she might more likely be taking refuge in "legal" pharmaceuticals of the Xanax, Oxy, Vicodin variety.

V said...

Yes, I think these days a more typical refuge is indeed a chemical concoction such as Prozac or Xanax. Except for the Xanax, which actually does relax the large skeletal muscles, all the most commonly prescribed mood drugs have been proven to have little more than a placebo effect.

The real effect, of course, is to separate a woman from the very social intercourse we have been describing as beneficial. Not only is the glass of wine actually relaxing, but it can be shared, and conversation begun. Pains of life are unburdened or laughed about - so much better than merely taking a pill.

The Old Ways are the best ways.

As to the "gentleman in question", one can only hope he has found some kind of balance and creative outlet - perhaps in writing - manifested in a different persona than we have seen over the past - what is it by now? 12 years? Maybe one day we will read words which have a certain familiar spirit about them and we will have found our old friend again. I'm inclined to doubt it, however.

janet said...

Spot on about the consequences of pharma. I grew up with a physician/father whose answer to all of life's issues was a very large bottle [dispensing size] of phenobarb to which he referred all his children on a regular basis. Seriously.

I always refused, and to this day I won't take even an aspirin.

Luckily, in Europe the pharma recourse hasn't taken hold, and I think it might have something to do with the fact that a very ingrained socializing system is already in place - from cafes to dining out to having the girls over for a 6 hour lunch to having a cuppa...And passing pills around just doesn't seem to fit those settings.

And the "gentleman" seems to have settled in, thus far, to writing fiction of what he, sigh, perceives as being semi-erotic in nature. Pathos redux. For now.

V said...

I haven't been following very closely the latest writings of the gentleman. The last I heard was something about an illustrated book. Then he seemed to drop out of sight.

You may already be familiar with the illustrations I have done along those lines for earlier tales, some with the help of your very own translations.

Perhaps the gentleman should consult with us on what makes a story truly erotic. I am sure he would not be remiss in heeding our advice.

Enjoy your Cabernet. This is a very fine Chardonnay, by the way. Nice price, too.

John said...

I managed to get the first book. I got it from El Paso when it was first published. In English and Spanish, which is lucky for me as my Spanish isn't really very good :)

I can't imagine what his erotic fiction will be like, not that it is the kind of literature that appeals to me. But his "History of Colours" was just fine and so were the illustrations.