Translation-related activities are my happy place.

They are also the place my inferiority complex and my imposter syndrome go to feed.

Let me explain:

For many years my entire identity was tied-up with being a solitary girl (then woman) moving around Europe, learning languages. I hadn’t got a degree – or even any A-levels for that matter – and my nomadic tendencies did not lend themselves to staying in one place long enough to climb a career ladder. So within the low-key circles I did move, I was something of a novelty – a British person who spoke a number of languages very well. I can’t claim any credit for it: I was lucky enough to have an ear for languages and feet itchy enough to indulge it, but for someone with neither university qualifications nor self-esteem, it was a satisfactory substitute.

Making the transition from part-time and ad hoc translator to translator “proper” has dragged me into entirely new circles. Circles populated with terrifyingly well-educated people, possessing letters after their names and polished CVs – weighty professional accomplishments contained therein. For some of them, translation and/or languages are but one of multiple degrees/PHDs/MAs/BAs (delete, or not, as appropriate) and even the undergraduates, several decades and a handful of small change younger than I am, appear very much more erudite, better-read and subsequently more at ease in these particular surroundings.

It all makes me feel vulnerable and out of my depth, even while practicing a craft that makes my heart sing.

So it was with both exhilaration and gut-churning anxiety that I signed in to my first day of Bristol Translates 2024.

I didn’t really know what to expect, other than the course was geared towards Literary Translation. The Italian group was at capacity when I applied, so I was offered a place translating from Spanish, which I accepted with a frisson of excitement: an unexpected opportunity to take time away from the old faithful in order to return to the arms of my first love.

Bristol Translates has been on-line since the pandemic, and there is a lot of tech involved in connecting 200+ students with tutor workshops, webinars, meetings, chats and various. Like most people, I have become familiar with Zoom, but I had a panicky first morning trying to find my way around Teams, and I quickly gave up on Discord which (unless I missed something vital) was really only for socialising in between classes – an activity I was spared from doing sadly could not participate in because I had to walk the dogs.

The programme informed me that Monday, Wednesday and Friday would be primarily dedicated to translation workshops, with webinars and other activities on Tuesday and Thursday. Translation workshops are interesting. I’m not sure “interesting” fully expresses the gamut of adjectives the experience brought to mind (“eye-opening” might do the job better), but it does corral them somewhat while I try to elucidate further.

Firstly, I am sure that the experience would be less fraught if we were all sitting in the same room. The difficulty of coordinating the collaboration of a handful of strangers online, using online tools, when not all are technically literate nor in possession of a strong internet connection, cannot be overstated. But once those problems have been overcome, you are still left with a handful of very individual strangers working together to transform a piece of foreign-language text into a style of English they can all get on board with.

No. Easy. Task.

I think my expectation had been that we would all translate our texts individually, and then the tutor (and other group members) would pick holes in each translator’s offering until it was considered “good”, with the upshot that the wordsmith in question would go away having learnt how to translate “better”. The End.

I was wrong.

I leave this experience with no further insight into my practical competency as a translator. But then it struck me: the days my translation skills are pulled apart and judged have passed. Those doing such linguistic dissection have been, examined, and declared me competent. My task, until the day I retire from the industry, is to work on improving my skills but while marking my own homework. Translation workshops are simply an insight into how other colleagues would approach the same task, and a chance to open our minds to all possibilities, variants and approaches.

Because rather like skinning a cat, there are many ways to transform a text from one language into another. Think of what goes into creating a book: the lived experience, the observations, the interests, the research, the cultural and educational background of the author (just for starters). To a translated text we then add the lived experience, the observations, the interests, the research and the cultural and educational background of the translator which, while they won’t change the general arc of the storyline, will certainly colour the way every sentence is re-rendered.

Thanks to these workshops I feel I will be going forward as a different sort of translator: less rigid, more open-minded and hopefully much, much braver. So a huge shout out to our tutors, Annie McDermott and Ros Harvey, and a similarly huge hug to my fellow workshoppers: Alannah, Thom, Soffia, Rebecca, Ellie, Zoe, Amy and Aidan (and also to Sophia). It was a real pleasure.

With regards to the other activities, the keynote: ‘Translation is my country’: Maboula Soumahoro in conversation with Ros Schwartz, was deeply insightful. Maboula’s words will stay with me for a long time, in particular the grief she feels for the absence of her mother’s language, which she was never taught. It reinforced my feeling that parents who deprive their offspring of their linguistic roots really are doing them a disservice. I also echo her sorrow at the political direction of her birth country, France, and the seeming incapability of human beings to learn from the past. (I wonder whether this morning’s election results have given her any more hope? They might have ushered in a period of chaos, but at the same time they have shown that when the writing is on the wall, the French would perhaps prefer to look forward with hope. We will see.)

We heard from Janet Fraser, Rahul Bery, and Claire Storey about various aspects of life as a literary translator. Laura Watkinson talked us through the process she follows when translating children’s and YA (Young Adult) fiction. Catherine Fuller (Translators Association) and Cécile Deniard (CEATL: European Council of Literary Translators Associations) gave us a wealth of information regarding how to navigate contracts in the UK and Europe.

Jen Calleja and Boris Dralyuk talked us through the advantages and pitfalls of using social media as a tool to advance in our careers – Boris advised against blogging but did not specify why. Gulp. I attended a workshop with Ruth Ahmedzai Kemp on translating graphic novels, although I later wondered if I should have instead attended Connor Doak‘s workshop on the subject of queer translation – cruel to make us choose, really.

Clare Suttie of Atlas Translations talked to us about working with translation agencies, working with clients and the best (and also the inadvisable) ways of promoting ourselves as translators – Loud and Proud, apparently. And no, Clare, you certainly didn’t talk too much or too fast!

Another cruel choice was between Sheela Mahadevan‘s workshop on multilingualism, and hearing Ruth Clarke, Zoe Perry, Julia Sanches, Ginny Takemori and Ian Macdonald talking variously about translator collectives and collaboration/co-translation on projects. In the end I did half and half, but I do regret not just opting for the latter, which I think might have benefitted me more.

The Publishers Panel, with editors from Pushkin Press, Saqi Books and Viking was a real eye-opener into the process followed by the individual publishers when selecting which translated works to take on. It shone a light into a world that so often appears forbidding, dismissive and discouraging to literary translators starting out. The three speakers all left their email addresses, which I suspect they may come to regret! I shall certainly be contacting them before long.

The last talk I attended was given by Will Forrester, the Translation and International Manager at English PEN, talking about their various translation-related schemes and awards. I find it hard to believe I would ever qualify for funding and even less so for an award, but it was reassuring to hear how much they do to preserve the written word and help prevent voices around the world being silenced, especially in these increasingly gruesome times.

To sum up: amazing, exhausting, sometimes frustrating, entertaining, hugely informative, full-on and completely worth it.

Now to recharge my batteries in time for the BCLT summer school (Italian to English this time) towards the end of July.