Why translating literature is sometimes impossible | Mariam Mansuryan | TEDxYouth@ISPrague

One of the most exciting aspects of living in the 21st Century is the opportunity to experience literature from around the world. But except for the languages we’re fluent in, most of us depend on translations. How easily do literary devices and effects survive translation from one language to another? Are there some aspects of literature that simply can’t be translated at all? Using examples from Armenian, Russian and English, Mariam Mansuryan argues that, sometimes, ideas really can be "lost in translation." This talk began as an applied linguistics project in the winter and spring of 2015 when Mariam presented the results of her research to a panel of academics at Charles University in Prague.

Mariam Mansuryan moved from her native Armenia and joined the International School of Prague's high school in 2015. Already fluent in Armenian and Russian, she quickly developed skills in English. Her curiosity about translation was sparked when she began reading and comparing fiction in several languages.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community. Learn more at http://ted.com/tedx

What color do you see
on the left side of the board?

(Audience) Blue.

Right. What color do you see
on the right side of the board?

(Audience) Blue, light blue.

(Laughter)

Okay, let's say this
is dark blue and light blue,

does everyone agree?

(Audience) Yeah.

Okay, so what would you
call them in general?

(Audience) Blue.

All right. Now, are there any people
who speak Russian?

Yeah?

Great. See a couple of hands.

All right, so what would you call
the color on the on the left in Russian?

Cиний.

So what about the color on the right?

(Audience) Rолубой.

Uh-huh. Now, what would
you call them together?

(Laughter)

I got you trapped because in Russian

you can't call them together.

In Russian, you can't say just "blue."

You have to either say "синий," dark blue,

or "голубой," light blue.

Now, I know that there are two or three
Armenian speakers too, right?

So I'm giving you a sentence,
and you translate it to Armenian.

"I have an uncle."

(Audience member) Ես քեռի ունեմ.

See, now Nana said "Ես քեռի ունեմ,"

but she's not correct.

(Laughter)

Because "I have an uncle" can mean

"I have an uncle from my mother side,"

or "I have an uncle from my father side."

What Nana said is "I have
an uncle from my mother side."

But I can say "Ես հորեղբայր ունեմ,"

which would mean "I have an uncle
from my father's side,"

and that would also
be a correct translation.

So Armenian, just like Russian
doesn't allow you to say just "blue,"

Armenian doesn't allow you
to say just "uncle."

You have to specify what uncle
you are talking about.

There are these differences in languages,

but when I was reading "Harry Potter"
by J.K. Rowling in Armenian,

I generally understood
what was going on in the book,

even though it was a translation,

even though there were
these differences in languages.

I read the same book,
almost the same book,

as English people did.

And you might be wondering
why I was holding this ruler, right?

Well, the reason is that translation
is like measurement.

So when you measure something,
let's say it's 20 centimeters,

but, most of us know that it's not 20.

It's 20 plus or minus 0.005.

Yeah.

Chemistry, physics, 10th grade.

(Laughter)

So it's very similar to translation.

When I read "Harry Potter,"
I was also seeing the same 20 centimeters,

but there was this small uncertainty.

Because languages
are different for a reason,

you can't just move ideas between them
without losing something.

So I lost that 0.005, but it's so minor,
that it doesn't really, really matter.

But is there a case
where it's not just 0.005,

but it's one centimeter
or maybe even 10?

Well, do you think this person
over here is a boy or a girl?

(Audience) Girl.

Yeah, most of you said "girl,"
and you were correct.

But -

she's actually the main character
of Harper Lee's "To Kill a Mockingbird,"

and when I was reading this book,

there was something really weird.

I couldn't understand the gender
of the main character until about page 60,

because the author was only giving clues,

and the author was even
confusing me by quotes like:

"I swear, Scout, sometimes you act
so much like a girl, it's mortifying."

And when you say, "You act so much
like a girl it's mortifying,"

we understand that the person
is not supposed to act like a girl, right?

Or Scout was saying, "I beat him up
one time but he was real nice about it."

Beating up and girls?

In 1960? They are miles away, really?

(Laughter)

So that's why the author
really confused me,

and I was thinking,
"Maybe my English is too bad,

maybe I don't understand
this book correctly,"

but then I realized that this
is an essential part of the theme.

Because halfway through the book,

this character comes
whose name is Aunt Alexandra.

So she's Scout's aunt,
and she tries to make a girl out of Scout.

So first in the book,
Scout identifies herself as just a child.

I'm not a girl, I'm not a boy,
but just a child.

But then, Aunt Alexandra
trains her into a girl,

and at the end of the [book],
you can see Scout wearing dresses

and drinking coffee
with her auntie and her friends.

So just like Scout reveals her gender,

discovers her gender,

the reader does the same,
so we have the same journey

as the main character does,
we really live with her.

But then, let's take a look
at this example:

So when I say, "Mariam went home"
in English, Russian, or Armenian,

I know that I'm talking about a girl
because Mariam is the name of a girl.

All right, now let's change Mariam
with a pronoun, with "she."

"She went home," I know that it's a girl.

"Она пошла домой,"
I know that it's a girl.

But when I say "Նա գնաց տուն,"
it's just a question mark

because in Armenian, as Nana
probably knows,

the pronoun "նա" represents
both boys and girls.

But even if I really want to hide
the gender of a person,

and I just give Mariam a nickname,
let's say "Scout" -

so "Scout went home" -
I don't know if it's a boy or a girl.

"Մեձաչքանին գնաց տուն,"
I still don't know.

But then when I say,
"Глазастик пошла домой,"

"Глазастик пошла домой, пошла домой,"
I know that it's a girl.

Because, just like you can't say
just "go" in Russian,

you cannot say just "went" in Russian,

or just any verb in Russian,

because you have to either say
"пошёл," or "пошла."

"Пошёл" would be about boys,
and "пошла" would be about girls.

So when I want to translate
this sentence into Russian,

I have to say "Я избил его,"
or "Я избилa его."

And, wait ...

So does this mean that in Russian
you cannot hide someone's gender?

Yes, it does.

And when I was reading
the Russian book, guess what?

The gender of Scout was revealed
since the very first page.

So if I were to discuss this book

with my Russian friend,

who doesn't know about
the "hiding of Scout's gender,"

we would have complete different
understandings of the book.

So it's no longer 0.005 -
it's already a huge difference,

because my friend didn't get
that part of the theme that I did.

That is why reading
"Harry Potter" in Armenian,

and reading "To Kill a Mockingbird,"

Убить пересмешника, in Russian,
are a bit different.

Because even though there
are the differences in "Harry Potter" too,

they don't matter so much.

But Harper Lee decided
to use this uniqueness

that English has and the opportunity
that it gives her to convey a theme.

So when you read it in Russian,

you don't really get the theme
that she wanted to convey.

Another example of this
would be "Room," by Emma Donoghue.

But before going into the book,
I want to tell you something.

For example, this ruler would be
feminine in Russian,

because it's "линейка,"

and if it finishes with "а,"
then it's feminine, or with "я."

So that's how Russian works.

Spanish works the same way;
German works the same way.

These languages have a thing
that's called "grammatical gender."

In this book, in "Room" by Emma Donoghue,

a mother and her son are trapped
in a room for five years

and her son has never seen the world
outside of the room,

so it's logical to think
that he should be a little bit weird.

How is the weirdness
expressed in the book?

Well,

he thinks that all the objects
around him have genders.

So for example, this rug
wouldn't be just "it";

it would be a "she."

He has kind of a Russian mind,
but it's really weird for English people,

because when you say
"rug, she" in English,

then "rug" is personified.

When he says, "We've been making
labyrinth since I was two.

She's all toilet roll insides
taped together in tunnels

that twist lots of ways,"

now labyrinth is "she."

Fine. Now let's try
to translate this to Russian.

First of all, "лабиринт" would be "he"
because it finishes with the letter "т."

But that's not what really matters.

You can argue that it doesn't matter

if you think of labyrinth
as "she" or "he."

The thing is that in Russian
it's completely natural

to say that "лабиринт" is "he"
because that's what people do.

So the thing that is seen as weirdness
in English in Emma Donoghue's book

is seen as a complete
normal thing in Russian.

That is why I want to connect it

to this thing that
Roman Jakobson has said:

"Languages differ essentially
in what they must convey,

and not in what they may convey."

So in Russian, I must convey
the gender of a person;

in Armenian, I must convey
the side of my uncle.

I can't just hide it.

So now I have a question for you:

Is it really the same book?

Thank you.

(Applause).