cultura universal

2013-04-10 by Pablo J. Davis Leave a Comment

“Yours truly” and other linguistic gestures of modesty

Dear reader,

In English, an indirect and somewhat humorous way to refer to oneself is “yours truly”, a phrase originating in the common closing for letters (Spanish “Atentamente”is similar).

Phrases like “yours truly” (or Spanish “su servidor” and its variants) are small linguistic gestures of modesty. But here, as so often happens, subtle but striking cultural differences can be seen in how the languages make the gesture.

It’s widely used, for example in statements like “That painting was done by yours truly”.

The Spanish equivalent is “este servidor” or its variants,“un servidor” and “su servidor”, all meaning something like “your servant”.

And here we see an intriguing difference: both phrases, it’s true, are linguistic gestures of modesty or humility—a way to avoid saying “I” (English) or “yo” (Spanish). But something about the Spanish version is somehow more formal, even archaic.

Can you imagine the guffaws if someone said, in English, “That painting was done by your humble servant”?

Moreover, English speech uses “I” constantly (observe how that imperial pronoun is the only one that gets capitalized in English!) while Spanish “yo” is heard much less frequently. The reasons are partly—but, in my view, only partly—grammatical: conjugated Spanish verbs almost always clearly indicate the person. For instance, in“Toco la guitarra” the “yo” (I) is understood, it’s clear that the meaning is “I play the guitar”. In English, in contrast, “I play”, “you play”, “we play” can be told apart only by the pronoun.

Careful, though: this is in no way to say that Hispanics/Latinos are all modest, and English speakers all self-centered—an absurdly vast generalization. What we can see in that self-effacing avoidance of “yo” (I), though, is an expression in everyday language of a deeply-rooted cultural ideal of the Hispanic world.

¡Buenas palabras!

Pablo

Copyright 2013 por Pablo Julián Davis. All Rights Reserved. This essay was originally written for the 3-9 March 2013 edition of La Prensa Latina (Memphis, Tennessee), as part of the weekly bilingual column “Mysteries and Enigmas of Translation”. Pablo J. Davis (www.interfluency.com) is an ATA Certified Translator (English>Spanish) and a Tennessee Supreme Court Certified Court Interpreter (English<>Spanish).

2013-04-02 by Pablo J. Davis Leave a Comment

The riddle of “fish”

Dear reader,

Here’s a little puzzle: how do you translate the noun “fish” into Spanish?

A moment’s reflection shows us that, without some context or a visual image, we can’t be sure of the solution. That “fish”, in the river, is translated as pez, but in the fisherman’s nets, or the cook’s pot, it’s a pescado.

In English a fish is a fish, but in Spanish it really matters (especially to the fish) whether it’s a pez or a pescado. (Above are perch in one or the other circumstance.)

What’s most interesting is not so much the obvious fact that good translation requires contextual information, but rather that Spanish makes a distinction as to whether the fish is free, caught, or cooked, while English lumps these senses into the single word “fish”. Another puzzle: how to translate dedo from Spanish to English? Well, it depends on whether the digits are attached to hands (“fingers”) or feet (“toes”). In this case, unlike fish, it’s English that differentiates, while Spanish lumps.

English also differentiates “party” from “holiday” (in Spanish, both are fiesta), “upbringing” from “education” (both Spanish educación).

But English “to be” lumps ser (essence, as in ser madre, to be a mother) and estar (temporary condition, as in estar ansioso, to be anxious). And where English has “Congratulations!”, Spanish differentiates between ¡Felicitaciones! for, say, winning a prize and ¡Felicidades! on the birth of a child.

A useful lesson: neither English nor Spanish can be said, in any sweeping way, to be more subtle than the other. As in the Inuits’ (Eskimos’) mythical “400 words for snow”, each language has areas where it makes fine distinctions, and others where it lumps senses together into a single word.

Good words!

Pablo

Copyright 2013 by Pablo Julián Davis. All Rights Reserved. A version of this essay was originally written for the March 17-23, 2013 issue of La Prensa Latina (Memphis, Tennessee), as part of the “Mysteries and Enigmas of Translation” weekly, bilingual column. Pablo Julián Davis (www.interfluency.com) is an ATA Certified Translator as well as a Tennessee Supreme Court Certified Court Interpreter for Spanish.

2013-04-02 by Pablo J. Davis Leave a Comment

Two little letters, a translator’s riddle

Dear reader,

Last week, we took on a translation puzzle: how to render the English noun fish into Spanish. It turned out that in that language, it matters whether the creature is alive and kicking, so to speak, in the water (in which case it’s a pez), or lying on a dinner plate (pescado).

That distinction is absent in English, where a fish is a fish is a fish. But a quick review of a series of other words showed us that neither language should be thought more subtle than the other: for every case likepez/pescado, there’s another where it’s English that makes the distinction (fingers and toes are both dedos in Spanish).

Let’s consider another puzzle: how to translate into English the expression“¡Dios me la bendiga!” Without the indirect object pronoun me, the phrase would be rendered simply as “God bless you!” (spoken to a woman).

But that little pronoun me certainly complicates things.

In a similar expression, like “Se me murió el perro”, me expresses how personally affected the speaker is by the death of his or her dog. Informal English can convey this with “on me”: “The dog died on me”.

But in the invocation to divine blessing, that phrasing wouldn’t exactly fit. Here the Spanish me is almost untranslatable. But we can convey something of it by rephrasing to something like: “My prayer is that God bless you”.

Good words!

Pablo

Copyright 2013 by Pablo Julián Davis. All Rights Reserved. A version of this essay was originally written for the March 24-30, 2013 issue of La Prensa Latina (Memphis, Tennessee), as part of the “Mysteries and Enigmas of Translation” weekly, bilingual column. Pablo Julián Davis (www.interfluency.com) is an ATA Certified Translator as well as a Tennessee Supreme Court Certified Court Interpreter for Spanish.

2013-02-10 by Pablo J. Davis Leave a Comment

Happy Birthday, Jorge Washington

Dear reader,

This edition of “Mysteries and Enigmas” marks the thirtieth time we’ve shared questions and curiosities related to travels between Spanish and English, that journeying between languages and cultures that we call translation. Thanks for the good company!

An imagining of the Founding Father’s signature with first name Hispanicized, as he was long referred to traditionally in the Spanish language.

The third Monday in February (the 18th, this year) brings the commemoration of the first president’s birthday. (Though many call it ‘Presidents’ Day’, assuming it to be a joint tribute to Washington, born Feb. 22, and Lincoln, Feb. 12, by federal law it continues to be Washington’s Birthday.)

In Spanish, the “Father of His Country” was, until recently, typically called Jorge Washington. This usage has declined in recent decades, though; since the ‘70s George Washington is more frequent, though Jorge has by no means disappeared.

Thus, it was long customary to Hispanicize the US statesman’s name (and the name of the king whose dominion over The Thirteen Colonies Gen. Washington helped to end: Jorge III). Likewise, Tomás Jefferson, Carlos Dickens, Juan Sebastián Bach, and Alejandro Dumas were more prevalent than Thomas, Charles, Johann Sebastian,and Alexandre, respectively.

In this, Spanish isn’t unique (note Georges, Georg, and Giorgio Washington in French, German, and Italian). But the phenomenon was particularly strong in Hispanic culture.

The reasons for this quaint custom, no doubt complex, may relate to an old, deeply-rooted sense of a historia universal, a literatura universal: roughly “world history” and “world literature” but with a different connotation: the sense of a larger something, a culture to which we all belonged—making Washington, Bach, Dickens, in a sense, not really foreigners to educated speakers of Spanish.

Paradoxically, the custom’s decline would seem linked to the dramatically accelerated circulation of texts and images in today’s world, because that circulation is so heavily influenced by US English and its attendant culture—which in general, other than for the names of saints and popes, does not share this Hispanic custom.

¡Buenas palabras!

Pablo

Copyright 2013 by Pablo Julián Davis. All rights reserved. This essay was originally written for the 17 February 2013 edition of La Prensa Latina (Memphis, Tennessee), as part of the weekly bilingual column entitled “Misterios y Enigmas de la Traducción”/”Mysteries and Enigmas of Translation”. Pablo Julián Davis (www.interfluency.com) is an ATA Certified Translator (English>Spanish) and a Supreme Court of Tennessee Certified Court Interpreter (English<>Spanish).

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“Yours truly” and other linguistic gestures of modesty

The riddle of “fish”

Two little letters, a translator’s riddle

Happy Birthday, Jorge Washington

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