Tolstoy: Don't Bite Us!

08/12/2010

0 Comments

 
I think I said earlier how the Maude translation of War and Peace Anglicizes the names—which is kind of confusing.  It also tones down and flattens the text, and makes it less interesting.  As we see in this scene from Chapter XII, just before the battle of Austerlitz:

The voices were those of the orderlies who were packing up; one voice, probably a coachman's, was teasing Kutuzov's old cook whom Prince Andrew knew, and who was called Tit. He was saying, "Tit, I say, Tit!"

"Well?" returned the old man.

"Go, Tit, thresh a bit!" said the wag.

"Oh, go to the devil!" called out a voice, drowned by the laughter of the orderlies and servants

Okay, we get it.  The soldiers are teasing a cook—and, perhaps I’m reading too much into this, but the cook, here and in the next chapter, comes off a bit effeminate.  The “Tit, thresh a bit,” while clearly mocking, isn’t really that funny.  I assumed it was some sort of untranslatable Russian joke.  But Pevear and Volokhonsky handle it this way:

From Kutuzov’s yard came the voices of orderlies who were preparing to sleep; one voice, probably of a coachman who was teasing Kutuzov’s old cook, whom Prince Andrei knew and whose name was Titus, said: “Titus, hey, Titus?”

“Well?” replied the old man.

“Titus, don’t bite us,” said the joker.

“Pah, go to the devil,” a voice cried, drowned out by the guffawing of the orderlies and servants.

Okay, now it makes sense as a joke.  A childish little taunting rhyme, the kind of stupid thing we used to say in the seventh grade or so, but a joke nonetheless.  Titus, don’t bite us!  Is it translated word-for-word from the Russian?  I have no idea.  But it makes more sense this way….

 
Add Comment
 

Tolstoy, Part One

05/19/2010

0 Comments

 
I first read War and Peace when I was 14 or so—my mother gave the Constance Garnet translation she’d read as a girl.  I loved the book, of course—I fell straight into the lives of those characters and I never wanted leave them—Tolstoy’s overwhelming empathy towards people totally took over and captured me.

At the University of Texas I took a Tolstoy course, and for that class we read War and Peace and Anna K both (I tell my fellow teachers this today and they are stunned: they don’t believe undergraduates are capable of reading (or are willing to read) two large books in a semester—or even one large book).  It was a wonderful class—one of the best I ever had.

But—we were reading the Norton Critical Editions, translated by Aylmer and Louise  Maude.  The translation bothered me: they anglicized most of the names.  Andrei Bolkonsky became Andrew Bolkonsky—his sister Marie, Mary.  Nikolai Rostov became Nicholas—but his sister Natasha stayed Natasha.  Pierre also stayed Pierre.  This bothered me a lot.  It was confusing.  And the prose seemed kind of dry and labored.

Still, I read this book over and over through the years—seven, eight, nine times, something like that—until the binding broke and it fell apart.  Later, when I was driving a cab, I picked up a used copy of the Rosemary Edmonds translation, and I read that a time or two.

So, I have a history with this book.  When the new translation by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky came out, I got a copy, hoping that I could convince someone in power to let me teach a Tolstoy class.  (I didn’t).  I read through some favorite sections, but I never got around to actually reading the new translation in its entirety, until now….
Add Comment