Why Science Fiction in translation can be so crucial
In my discussion about Solaris yesterday, I mentioned the fact that I read the book some years ago. Since I can’t even curse in Polish, let alone read it, I read the book in translation. This one was a bit unusual since it was a Hebrew, rather than English translation. The only reason I happened to choose Hebrew over English was the fact that I was given that particular book as a present for my 13th birthday, while living in Israel – it was what I had readily availables.
The Israeli culture of translation is an interesting one. Hebrew, as a modern, day to day language, appeared on the scene in the late 19th century. It had never died, but for over 2500 years it was a language of liturgy and high poetry. By the time of Christ, Hebrew was emphatically not a spoken language (the spoken language in Judea was Aramaic). So, the revival of Hebrew as a spoken language was quite a unique phenomenon (it’s as if a bunch of people in Italy were to decide that they really want to speak Latin).
From a literary standpoint, there was little to serve as background. There was some poetry, some essays, and a great deal of rabbinical discourse, but at the turn of the 20th century there was little by way of solid literature, and virtually no progressive development in the language for millennia.
So, when Jewish writers decided to write in Hebrew, the one source they could turn to was the Bible. There is an incredible richness and infinite beauty in that book, but it is somewhat dated from the standpoint of modern usage and utility. Imagine that we had to Chaucer, no Shakespeare, no Dickens. Imagine that what we had was just the King James Bible. Now, can you imagine how Hemingway would have sounded?
What is considered to be the first modern Hebrew novel was published in 1859 by Abraham Mapo. To a modern reader it pretty much sounds like the Bible. For many decades going forward, any type of serious prose sounded rather archaic and biblical. While on the one hand, the reliance on the Bible and some of its idiom provided modern Hebrew literature with a necessary framework that could not have been provided by anything else, the result was imbued with a degree of artificiality. The approach was spilled over into translation. Picking up translations of Russian works into Hebrew, one chokes. With A.S Pushkin, Russian prose acquired an incredible nimbleness and dexterity. It pranced on like a gazelle. In Hebrew, the gazelle would be rendered as a hippopotamus. Things are different now, by the way. I remember picking up a Hebrew translation of one of my favorite books, Bulgakov’s "The Master and Margarita" (to be consumed in English ONLY in the Pavear and Volokhonsky translation. The three translations preceding it are horrible, execrable, a torrid, in that order). It was like something from the prophets. In the late 90s a new translation has been made, worthy of the beauty of the original.
Time certainly contributed to the change. But there was another factor. Starting in the 70s, a group of young translators (the names that come to mind are Emmanuel Lotem, Dorit Landas, Ruth Lavnit) began translating science fiction and fantasy. The genre did not have the stigma of a classic, hence the AK’s that monitored such things let the young to their own devices. And the young ones devised! Having limited time and resources, they clearly chose the best that was out there (until I came to the States I had no idea that there could be bad science fiction, as I had never encountered it). So they translated "Dune" and "The Lord of the Rings" among others. The significance of it is that they undertook to translate patently literary (rather than merely science fiction and fantasy) works. By taking a new, fresh approach, by utilizing real spoken language, I think those young men and women contributed greatly towards the modernization of Hebrew literature in general. So now, when I read Solaris, I can believe that the events are taking place in space, in the future, on a station orbiting an alien planet, rather then some depiction of the deeds of the patriarchs.
Hebrew had little chance to utilize its inherent energy as a language – it was virtually silent for 2,500 years. Its development over the last 150 years has been a whirlwind attempt to catch up with life – a language and a literature trying to flex limbs that have been petrified for many generations. It’s a fascinating thing to behold.
5:24:12 AM 
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