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THE POSTHUMOUS MEMOIRS OF BRAS CUBAS, T-MINUS 5 – p. 31.
First things first, the semicolons.
First things first, the semicolons.
One of the earlier translations slices up the first sentence – "I grew. My family had no part in that. I grew naturally [...]" – which has the effect of almost stunting our nasty little hero's growth. Semicolons are essential here. As in life.
Next: I love the juxtaposition of magnolias and cats more than I can say. When William Grossman first self-published the translation in 1951 and sent it out for feedback, he mixed up "gatos" with "vacas" and came up with magnolias and cows – the effect is radically different.
Speaking of the cats, the adjective that Machado uses is matreiro, which my dusty old dictionaries define as "sagacious, sly, crafty, penetrating, judicious, subtle, shrewd." Yeah, doesn't work so much with cows.
Of the three previous translators, Grossman went with "mischievous," Ellis with "sagacious," and Rabassa with "sly," which to me suggests they may have had very different relationships with cats. And I picked "shrewd" – not sure how my feline roommates would feel about that.
(Everyone agrees that the magnolias are less "restless," by the way. Good old Anglo-Saxon adjective.)
This is a chapter full of tough adjectives. Look at the way Brás Cubas describes his bad self: "arguto, indiscreto, traquinas e voluntarioso." I looked at this passage in all four existing translations, including mine.
"Arguto" is translated as "shrewd," "sharp," "evasive," "cunning,"
"indiscreto" comes out as "bold," "indiscreet," and "nosy,"
"traquinas" is "frolicsome," "naughty," "mischievous," and "troublesome,"
& "voluntarioso" is "impulsive," "self-willed," "willful," and "headstrong."
"indiscreto" comes out as "bold," "indiscreet," and "nosy,"
"traquinas" is "frolicsome," "naughty," "mischievous," and "troublesome,"
& "voluntarioso" is "impulsive," "self-willed," "willful," and "headstrong."
Four translators, four adjectives, fifteen options! Only Grossman and I agreed on "bold" for "indiscreto."
Of course, deciding on the flavor of the adjective is one thing, but creating a daisy-chain of adjectives as charming as Machado's is quite another.
"Traquinas" is particularly marvelous, and echoes one of my favorite combinations of words in the book, a description of Quincas Borba: "Tinha garbo o traquinas." Not even going to quote my translation because that is a sublime phrase.
The image of Brás riding around on and whipping the slave boy Prudêncio is one of the most iconic in the book, and will boomerang around in a later chapter. The poor little boy's only complaint is "Ai, nhonhô!"
Two of the three translators preserved "nhonhô," which is a corruption of "senhor," or master, but I felt it was important to convey the relation of power inherent in this form of address. Hence: "little master."
Also struggled at length to translate "ai." Grossman says "gee," Ellis says "ai," Rabassa says "ouch." I wound up with "ow" because that felt the most like an uncontrolled expression of pain – two letters, no hard consonant.
As a bit of a palate cleanser after that casual brutality, I present you with some alternative ways to express your wordless feelings: sessa, tara, gra. Oh, and you can pre-order the translation here: https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/ …/the-posthumous-memoir…/
Not-broken link to preorder here! http://bit.ly/2X2RDbJ
