All my Latin teachers have used the phrase “lost in translation” when reading and discussing translations of Greek and Latin texts as an argument for why studying the ancient languages is important. We study Ancient Greek and Latin so that we can read the originals, so that we do not have to wonder what gets lost in translation but rather engage with original texts and discover the original authors’ intentions and meanings. We study ancient languages for so many other reasons, although this is perhaps the most traditional and scholarly reason for studying them. Other reasons that we study ancient languages include wanting to know the history of language and stories, and wanting to do well on the SAT/ACT. We might study them because we don’t want to take a spoken language (although, there are teachers who are using active methods for teaching Latin). We study them because we are good at grammar, at taking apart sentences and studying how grammatical structures work. At the heart of all these reasons has to be the belief that these languages are important, and yet it is also necessary to take a critical view of them and why we learn them. If we know the languages, we are able to read the text, to find the meaning and interpret the story for ourselves. My teachers recommended translations in their syllabi as if it were a necessary evil, something that we had to purchase, possess, in case we wanted to look at it, or, more likely, because we couldn’t read that much Latin (in upper level Latin classes, typically only a few hundred lines each week) and translations allowed us to read the entirety of the texts, something we could never hope to do in the original language in a single semester. The understanding was that if we had to have one, this was the best out of all the mediocre possibilities, mediocre in comparison to the original, that is.
The original language, the word order, grammatical constructions, and rhetorical figures are lost in translation, but I am learning that there is much to find in translation. The beauty of knowing the original languages of Ovid and Vergil, and to a lesser extent of Homer, means that I can juxtapose originals with their translations. Women use rhetorical strategies in their translations, putting them directly opposite of men’s translations that rely on the fact that the texts are canonical, and that no one asks “why another,” as Robert Fagles reflects in his Translator’s Notes. Instead women face that question head on. Why another Odyssey, Iliad, Aeneid, or Metamorphoses? Women create translations that are accurate to the Latin and Greek, transcending the gendered idea of “faithful” translations, they use words and vocabulary that situate the translations squarely for contemporary audiences (in particular, they address issues of “slaves” and “rape,” as well as PTSD and refugees, concepts that resonate with contemporary readers across genders). They are constantly aware of their main audiences, those who do not know the original languages, even as they create translations that are accurate representations of the Latin or Greek. Not only do translations provide access to those who don’t have the original languages, but they also provide perspective and voice, in particular voices from those who have always been a part of Latin and Greek education, whose voices are finally getting a chance to speak.
I’ve found a clear rhetorical situation in recent translations by women. They use rhetorical strategies to situate themselves as translators between their texts and their audiences, to situate the texts and audiences and translators within a specific time period. Where scholars and readers so often argue that these epics are timeless, these translations challenge that perspective by showing us how women translators interpret ancient stories to reach contemporary audiences in our own time period, and how they take a critical lens to the originals. For so long I dismissed translations, believing that they were unimportant, and yet I’ve also spent the last few years thinking about translations and their importance, and I think I’ve found their value as rhetorical texts. They have perhaps the most important job, to transfer those stories to us in our current time.
Alexandra Sladky 