Last weekend I went to an
exhibition that is a testament to the far-reaching power of the human
imagination and to the importance of collaborative scholarship.
The exhibition |
Alice in a World of Wonderlands marks 150 years since the publication of Lewis Carroll’s Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland (1865)
by investigating the translations into 176 different languages that have
emerged since the work’s publication and are the subject of a new book that
shares the exhibition’s name.
Finnish translation (1952) |
Finding and cataloguing these
translations, and their editions, was a labour of love and involved a lot of
detective work, with over 250 unpaid volunteers tracking down texts all over
the world.
Christina Rossetti's signed copy of the first (German) translation of Alice (1869) |
German was the first language
other than English in which Alice
first came to life (in 1869). French,
Swedish, Italian, Danish and Dutch soon followed in the nineteenth century,
some with Carroll’s knowledge and consent, others without.
Catalan translation (1927) |
But it is in the twentieth
century that we see a proliferation of Alices
(not that the central character always has this name). From Breton to Urdu,
Esperanto to Pitjantjatjara, Hebrew to Malay, many readers have been taken down
the rabbit hole. The question is – what do they find there?
Vladamir Nabokov's (Russian) translation (1923) |
Alice in a World of Wonderlands, edited by Jon A. Lindseth and Alan Tannenbaum, for instance, contains
251 back translations into English to see how different translators approached
the task of rendering one of Carroll’s poems:
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!
Up above the world you fly,
Like a tea tray in the sky.
Twinkle, twinkle, little bat!
How I wonder what you're at!
Romanian translation (1991) |
Native English speakers recognise
this as a parody of the children’s nursery rhyme ‘Twinkle, twinkle, little
star’, but translated literally into another tongue this context will be lost.
This speaks directly to the translation debate of domestication vs.
foreignisation. In other words, is it the role of the translator to educate the
reader about the culture in which it was produced (here Victorian Britain) or
to make the writer’s intention more immediately apparent by using shorthands
with which he or she is familiar from their own culture.
Marathi translation (1982) |
The translator of a version in
Marathi for example (one of 12 Indian languages included in the catalogue) was
one of those who decided to play with a rhyme familiar to his readers. He
writes:
‘When I transformed Alice into Jaai I taught her not only customs
and traditions of this land, but also the popular songs of this soil known to
all.’
Poster for a Japanese stage play (1998) |
Seeing the exhibition in person,
one of the most obvious things to be struck by is the incredible range of
visual responses to the text and John Tenniel’s illustrations. Cover
illustrations range from the saccharine to the surreal, with the influence of
Disney’s 1951 animated feature film clear. Alice
seems to hold particular visual appeal in Japan, as posters for Alice-inspired stage plays are also on
display here – maybe not surprising given the natural co-option of Alice into Lolita fashion.
Alphagram translation (2012) |
This interactive map allows you
to explore the myriad wonderlands inspired by one story told in Oxford on a
sunny day, but if you’re in New York City, I’d definitely recommend checking
out the exhibition in person. I already reviewed the Morgan Library &
Museum’s retrospective into the novel’s origins, but it is at the Grolier Club
that the legend of Alice seems to be very much alive.
Hebrew translation (1923) |
The exhibition Alice in a World of Wonderlands, The
Translations of Lewis Carroll’s Masterpiece is running until November 21 at the Grolier Club. Entrance is free.
Bosnian translation (2008) |
Do you know of any other
nineteenth-century exhibitions in NYC you think the Secret Victorianist should
visit? Let me know – here, on Facebook or by tweeting
@SVictorianist.
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