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Iconic authors such as Tolstoy, Kafka, and Proust, who wrote in languages other than English, have seen their works achieve immense popularity in English-speaking countries. However, certain nuances of their writing are often lost when translated, leaving English readers unaware of some of the most profound elements of their literature.
10. The Opening of In Search of Lost Time
Crafting an unforgettable opening line is an art form in itself. Iconic sentences such as “Call me Ishmael” and “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” have become nearly as renowned as the novels they introduce. However, the opening line of Proust’s In Search of Lost Time doesn’t share the same fame. In English, it translates to: “For a long time I used to go to bed early.”
This isn’t the most captivating way to begin a 1.5-million-word masterpiece hailed as one of the greatest literary works ever. The issue lies in the untranslatable nature of the original French text.
The French original begins with: “Longtemps, je me suis couche de bonne heure.” For non-French speakers, the tense used here has no direct English equivalent. Proust’s phrasing conveys an action rooted in the past but with ongoing relevance to the present. The English translation, however, merely describes a past habit without capturing the depth of the original.
The word longtemps carries a mythical resonance for French readers, akin to beginning a tale with “a long, long time ago . . . ” Additionally, bonne heure closely resembles bonheur, meaning “happiness.” This evokes themes of ancient myths, happiness, and the flow of time for French audiences. English readers, on the other hand, are left with a simple statement about someone’s bedtime routine.
9. The Significance of Character Names in Beowulf
Beowulf, the first English epic, is a grand tale of Scandinavians battling terrifying, monstrous foes. Composed in Old English, it remains largely inaccessible today without a translation or a strong desire to study an extinct language. While the poem’s rhythm can be maintained in modern English, the depth of meaning in the characters’ names is often lost. In the original text, these names add a rich layer of significance to the narrative.
The name “Beowulf” itself carries profound meaning. Literally translating to “wolf of the bee,” it seems nonsensical until you understand that “wolf” also signifies “foe.” “Bee-foe” was a term used in northern Europe to describe bears, referencing their tendency to raid beehives for honey. Thus, Beowulf’s name evokes imagery of both wolves and bears, symbolizing his status as the ultimate hero in a story filled with formidable warriors.
Other names in the poem provide insights into characters or their destinies. A strong-willed queen is named “power” (Thryth), while her more thoughtful counterpart is called “reflection” (Hygd). There’s even a character named “glove” (Hondsico) who ultimately ends up in the monster’s glof (lair), a subtle instance of foreshadowing that only resonates if you’re familiar with both Old and modern English.
8. The Guardian of the Word’s Controversial Scene of Coercion
Cultural nuances can complicate translation just as much as language barriers. A striking example occurs in Camara Laye’s Guardian of the Word, a compilation of epic tales from Guinea woven into a cohesive narrative. The story revolves around Maghan Kon Fatta, whose wife Sogolon initially refuses to share his bed. Fatta responds by threatening her with a knife and then seducing her under duress. Surprisingly, Sogolon later falls in love with him once more.
To most English-speaking audiences, this scene unmistakably depicts Fatta intimidating and committing an act of violence against Sogolon. However, this interpretation likely diverges from Laye’s intent. As writer Ann Morgan explains, the scene is meant to be viewed symbolically. Guinean readers would perceive it as a ritualistic metaphor integral to the broader narrative, rather than condemning Fatta’s actions.
7. The Iliad’s Rhythm Mirrors the Motion of the Sea
The Iliad, recounting the Trojan War from the perspective of Greek seafarers, stands as the earliest masterpiece of Western literature. The ocean is a central element in the narrative, serving both as a tangible presence and a metaphorical wellspring. Its influence extends to the poem’s structure, as certain passages in the original Greek are crafted to mimic the rhythmic cadence of the sea when read aloud.
In Book 13, lines 795–800, the final words of the first, third, fifth, and sixth lines feature what the New Yorker describes as “liquid ‘l’ sounds,” designed to evoke the sensation of rolling waves. A recurring “p-ll” pattern mimics the sound of waves crashing on the shore. Furthermore, the fourth line employs adjectives with consonant repetition to replicate the auditory experience of surf. Even more intricately, the last two lines mirror each other’s structure, symbolizing the advancing rows of Trojan soldiers preparing to storm the beach.
This remarkable aspect of the text is nearly impossible to translate with precision. While English can replicate some of these auditory effects, combining them with words that maintain the original meaning and Homeric techniques like alliteration is an insurmountable challenge. Unless you dedicate time to mastering Ancient Greek, a portion of the Iliad’s enchantment will always remain out of reach.
6. The Epic of Askia Mohammed Loses Its Essence in Written Form
In the early 1980s, researchers undertook the task of translating one of Niger’s most revered oral epics into English. They enlisted a local griot (storyteller) for two evenings in the village of Saga, recording his narration and spending 10 years transcribing it into written form. The outcome was The Epic of Askia Mohammed, a significant addition to Nigerien cultural heritage. However, to truly appreciate the epic’s grandeur, one must engage a griot and understand the local language, as the written version fails to capture its full essence.
First and foremost, sound plays a crucial role in the storytelling of Nigerien griots. Since many words in their narratives may be unfamiliar to audiences, griots prioritize the auditory and rhythmic elements over the literal content. Additionally, the tales are highly fluid, making it impossible to transcribe a single definitive version into English. Thomas Hale, who headed the team documenting the Epic, noted that griots possess multiple variations of each story and often adapt them to appeal to Western researchers.
The written version of the Epic of Askia Mohammed pales in comparison to the authentic oral rendition, which remains inaccessible to those outside Niger.
5. The Opening Line of Gilgamesh Holds Multiple Layers of Significance
Unearthed beneath Iraq’s scorching desert more than 2,000 years after its creation, the Epic of Gilgamesh stands as one of literature’s earliest masterpieces. While two distinct versions are known today, the most renowned one (the Standard Version) begins with the line: “He who saw the deep.” Though poetic, this translation barely scratches the surface of the phrase’s depth in the original Standard Babylonian.
Gilgamesh tells the story of a powerful king who embarks on a quest for immortality, only to confront his own mortality. Consequently, the word “deep” carries multiple interpretations. Depending on the translator, it can mean “he who saw everything,” “he who saw the abyss” (symbolizing death), or “he who saw Ea”—a mysterious cosmic realm akin to the concept of hell. It can also signify Gilgamesh attaining a profound spiritual awareness of the universe or foreshadow his descent into a sacred underground sea later in the poem.
Due to the challenges of translating Standard Babylonian into English, the true intent of the author remains a subject of intense debate. However, scholars agree that the full richness of the line is inevitably lost in translation.
4. Kafka’s Metamorphosis Explores Themes Beyond a Mere Insect
Kafka’s Metamorphosis, a 1915 tale about Gregor Samsa waking up to find himself transformed into a bug, is one of the most renowned novels in literary history. Its premise has inspired countless adaptations, from Oscar-winning films to parodies on The Simpsons. However, most interpretations overlook a crucial detail. In the original German, Kafka’s use of the term Ungeziefer conveys far more than simply “bug.”
For starters, Ungeziefer isn’t limited to insects. It can describe any household pest, regardless of the number of legs. The word also carries historical weight: in Middle High German, it literally meant “creature unfit for sacrifice.” Most importantly, the full implication of Ungeziefer is untranslatable. As Slate explains, “Ungeziefer is an intentionally ambiguous term for something revolting and unwanted in the home, with its repulsiveness defined through the perspective of the human observer.”
The opening line can be interpreted as Gregor Samsa realizing that others now view him as no more than a cockroach. This opens the door to reading the story as a metaphor for terminal illness or Kafka’s reflection on his Jewish identity during a time when Jews were often dehumanized and likened to vermin.
3. Finnegans Wake Drives Its Translators to Despair
James Joyce’s final work, Finnegans Wake, is either hailed as a literary masterpiece or dismissed as an indecipherable jumble, depending on the reader. While technically written in English, it borders on being unreadable. Consider this example of a typical line:
The fall (bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonneronntuonn-thunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthurnuk!) of a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later on life down through all christian minstrelsy.
Editor’s note: A hyphen was added to the lengthy word above for visibility. The original text does not contain this hyphen.
While it may appear nonsensical, the excerpt is brimming with references. For instance, the sequence “gharaghtak” in the lengthy word alludes to the Hindustani word for thunder and another term meaning “boisterous.” The term “wallstrait” simultaneously evokes Wall Street and being in dire straits (i.e., crisis), serving as a nod to the Wall Street Crash. Conveying these layered meanings in another language often proves so challenging that it drives translators to the brink.
This is not an exaggeration. Dai Congrong spent eight years translating the first third of the Wake into Chinese. She admitted that the process was so grueling it caused her physical deterioration. The French translation consumed 30 years of its translator’s life, while the Japanese version led to the first translator vanishing and the second suffering a mental breakdown. Even the Polish translation, which faced fewer obstacles, took a decade and concluded with the translator denouncing it as a futile endeavor and the cause of numerous personal conflicts. It’s little wonder Joyce himself spent 14 years crafting the original.
2. The Gospel of St. John’s Pivotal Moment Only Resonates in Greek
Among the many memorable moments in the Gospel of John, one scene stands out: when Jesus asks Peter three times if he loves Him. This moment is crucial for understanding Peter’s relationship with Christ. However, its full impact is only felt in the original Greek.
Ancient Greek, unlike modern English, had multiple words for love. These included Eros (romantic love), Philia (friendship), and Agape (unconditional love). In the Gospel of John, Jesus twice asks Peter if he loves Him using Agape (“do you love Me selflessly?”). Peter, who later denies Jesus, responds with Philia (“I love You as a friend”).
The choice of words becomes even more significant when Jesus asks Peter the third time. Instead of using Agape, He switches to Philia, meeting Peter at his level. This explains Peter’s distress at the third question. By echoing Peter’s words, Jesus reveals the limitations of Peter’s devotion. For the original Greek audience, this was a profound moment. In English, it can mistakenly appear as though Jesus is simply repeating Himself.
1. Accurate Translations of War and Peace Are Nearly Unreadable
Translators often strive to maintain both the meaning and rhythm of an author’s words when translating into English. However, with a work like War and Peace, this becomes nearly unachievable. A precise English rendition of Tolstoy’s magnum opus would include so much repetition that most readers would likely abandon it.
For Russian audiences, the frequent repetition of adjectives is a defining feature of the book. A well-known passage describing a plump peasant uses the word “round” five times in one sentence. Another section repeats the word “wept” six times in just as many lines. These aren’t exceptions; War and Peace is filled with such repetitions, which Nabokov believed were central to Tolstoy’s philosophy. However, for English readers, replicating this style often disrupts the narrative flow. While the repetition may feel poetic in Russian, it can come across as jarring in English.
Another challenge stems from Tolstoy’s multilingual approach. The opening paragraph of War and Peace was initially written in French, and the book includes enough French text to fill a short novel. Additionally, there are passages in Italian, German, and even English, with Tolstoy frequently switching languages within a single sentence. Since preserving this aspect would restrict the book’s audience to polyglots and scholars, most translators opt to omit it.
