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tranfree issue 20 - 6th November 2000
(Not a) Holidayby John McCarthy Back in the days when I was still considering getting a 'normal' job, there was always one thing that held me back. It was the way employers would tell you in their adverts they were going to give you three weeks holiday as though that were a really big deal. "No", I'd think - drawing back from the abyss of conventional employment at the last minute... "I want to take a holiday when I want it, not when you say I can. If I can't take a holiday because I'm too busy or broke, then that will be my problem and I'll deal with it." By the time July came around over here in London this year, it looked as though we'd had our summer. As usual, my problem as far as holidays were concerned was more to do with being broke than busy. In the past the local parks have provided some compensation for the days I was missing on the beaches of the Riviera or the Costa Blanca. If the weather was kind I'd get myself a free tan (or burn!) on home ground, after a busy morning on the phone reminding agencies of my existence. This year, though, it looked like this was not going to be an option. Then I got a call from an old university teacher. I'd worked with Peter on a Masters degree in translation some years ago. At the time I had this vague idea that the postgraduate work I was doing would take me into translating - and maybe teaching. That's turned out to be more or less what's happened, but I'd pictured myself translating literary material, which has not been the case at all. Peter asked whether I was interested in attending a summer school in literary translation at East Anglia University. I'd probably be able to get a bursary, and oh, I'd be working with Edith Grossman, the translator of Gabriel García Márquez. Not really a holiday, you might think, leaving my translation desk to go off to another English town and do more translation. Plus there was the... But hey, this was a free break and I was going to work with one of the world's leading literary translators. Was I ever truly hesitating for a moment? No, not really. I was perfectly happy with my room facing another block and overlooking a car park because I knew that just behind my building the grass sloped gently down to the water and trees and those delightful rabbits. I decided to waste no time and after unpacking, got into my shorts and vest and set off for a run around the lake. There was an hour till dinner and the exercise would do me good after the stuffy train ride up from London. The first dinner at events such as these is interesting because it is the only time you will meet all the people attending without prejudice. This is generally the most civilized meal of a conference or school. Few people know each other already and the entrance into the dining hall has not yet degenerated into a scramble to be next to friends - or to get away from bores or those deemed to have unappealing personal habits. My tactic for coping with the dilemma of how to manage one's table company has become rather Buddhist in philosophy over the years. That is to say I have given up trying to control it. If there is someone there I should be talking to I must simply trust that this will happen during my stay. Similarly, if there is someone there whom it is my destiny to be bored by, then I must embrace this boredom. It is I who am stupid if I cannot learn something from everyone. If you've read that somewhere before, please forgive me, but it really does seem to be a sensible way of going about things. My willingness to suppress my controlling instinct in me paid off on this first evening. I'd sort of forgotten why I was there and whom I was supposed to be working with, but when I introduced myself to the woman sitting next to me it all came back. "John McCarthy?" she said quite loud, as though I was someone famous, "I think we're working together this week. I'm Edie Grossman." (I just loved the "Edie" bit.) Edie was a sixty-something New Yorker with striking grey hair and dazzling green eyes and had all the charm and sophistication of a woman at ease with her talent. The great thing about clever people who are relaxed is that they make you feel comfortable and interesting too. Edie and I hit it off from the start and I knew then that this was going to be a working-holiday far more rewarding than any amount of lounging on Mediterranean beaches. What did I learn during my week? Well, four of us went through a text and dissected it between us and came up with the first draft of a translation. It was nothing like the reality of translating a commercial document required for the next day, but it was certainly a reminder of the complexity of the translation process. It made me appreciate again what a good translator does. Did I learn anything else? Oh yes, never scramble for a particular place at dinner. You might just miss the person who is really worth sitting next to. John McCarthy lives in North London and translates/interprets from Spanish. He has also lectured in Translation at two London universities. He also writes reviews, articles and fiction.
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...danger that while I was away that big job that
I know is just around the corner would turn up and I'd miss it.