För svenska läsare: då detta är om översättningen av Finnegans Wake gör jag ett
experiment (som inte tas med på engelska listor). Jag låter Google Translate
översätta det första två sidorna av Finnegans Wake... Se sist.
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The Stockholm bookshop Rönnells is one of the city's best places for culture
events with haappenings several times every week. This week (Lucia Day, the
13th of December) they treated us with an evening about James Joyce (
https://ronnells.se/events/joyce-firas-pa-luciadagen/ ;), organised by the James
Joyce Society of Sweden and Finland (http://www.jamesjoycesociety.com/) with
support by nothing less than the Swedish Academy.
There were two new books presented: James Joyce och språket ("James Joyce and
the Language") by Jonas Ellerström, a study of Joyce in different translations.
And: Finnegans Fall, a translation of the first chapter of Finnegans Wake by
Lars Johansson.
I've had several connections with the world of Joyce. I went to Rönnells'
previous Joyce evening in 2016 (report in English
https://www.freelists.org/post/skriva/The-Joyce-of-Side-Effects ;) but more
importantly, I know not one but two Joyce translators! Erik Andersson did a
much praised new translation of Ulysses in 2012 (pic from his visit to Rönnells
http://ronnells.blogspot.com/2012/12/ulysses-tvalen-hittar-hem.html ;), but he
and I used to do the fandom news column in Jules Verne Magasinet through most
of the 1980's. And Bertil Falk published a translation of the beginning of
Finnegans Wake in 2013. He wasn't only a co-worker of mine on Teknikmagasinet
in the 1980's, he also published my Murder on the Moon collection and we're
both members of the Short Story Masters society. When Bertil presented his
Finnegans Wake for the Joyce Society a few years ago, he was allowed to bring
along a guest - me. So I have even visited that society.
The evening was hosted by Jonas Ellerström and consisted of several parts,
which I'll try to describe briefly (very briefly, there's too much to summarise
it all).
First we heard Ingrid Svensson talk about the literary scene in Paris in the
1920's - which was incredibly important for *English* literature! English
language small culture magazines, publishers and bookshops (like Shakespeare &
Co) had much more freedom in the French capital, since a censorship of morality
ruled at home. Joyce were "obscene" and couldn't be published anywhere else.
There were names like Gertrude Stein, Alice Toklas and not the least Sylvia
Beach who was the one to finally publishing Joyce, with Ulysses. Finnegans wake
came later.
Joyce began with it in the early 1920's, and fragments came as instalments in
the different small literary magazines, under the title Work in Progress, until
it was finaly published as a whole in may 1939, about 1.5 years before Joyce
died. (That may be the reason he never received the Nobel. He died just after
his Magnum Opus. There was a Nobel in 1939 and no Prize in 1940.) Ingrid
Svensson told us a lot about the cooperation (not always an easy one) between
Joyce and Beach, and about the important literary scene of Paris. She has
earlier herself written a book on that subject, Ett magiskt rum - salonger in
1920-talets Paris ("A Magical Room - Saloons in the 1920s Paris"),
http://ellerstroms.se/butik/ett-magiskt-rum/ ;).
Then we heard Jonas Ellerström talk about his book, James Joyce och språket
("James Joyce and the Language"). The Nobel Library of the Swedish Academy had
received a donation of 40 different Joyce books in about 20 different
languages, which he had been studying. His book is an analysis of the books in
this donation. He read examples of translations, even in Italian... We also
heard Joyce himself read from Finnegans Wake, in a recording he made in 1929.
Joyce read very nicely, in a very melodic voice, as he is said to also have
been a good singer.
The main event of the evening was perhaps the interview with Lars Johansson
who has translated the first chapter of Finnegans Wake to Swedish. Here you
need to understand how *incredibly* difficult this book is to translate! It is
full of puns, playing around with language, references to Irish history and
culture, slang, Biblical references, all kinds of stuff. Words often have
double, triple, quadruple meanings!
Now, this chapter has been translated before as said, by Bertil Falk who
published his version in 2013 as Finnegans Likvaka (
https://zenzat.wordpress.com/2013/11/07/finnegans-likvaka/ ;) but Johansson only
came to learn about it after he had begun. I don't think it matters much,
because Finnegans Wake is a book that probably needs several interpretation
attempts. Bertil has told me that he became fascinated by Joyce already in the
1950s, and worked with translating small pieces off and on since then. Mr Falk
is a very multi-talented and -interested man, digging into all kinds of stuff
from American pulp magazines to modern poetry. His small publishing house has
done everything from the 1940's Swedish science fiction author Sture
Lönnerstrand to modern American poets - as well as one A Engholm, writing crime
stories set on the Moon...
Johansson said he spent about three months doing the first draft of his
translation, and then a year polishing it. Since the book has 17 chapters you
can imagine what it would take to attempt to translate all of it... For the
time being he has no intention to do the rest of the book, which is
understandable. (And I have asked Erik, who doesn't seem very keen either.)
Johansson read from his translation and we heard a little about who he
worked. There seemed to be, he said, an underlying basic text or story of
Finnegans, which Joyce then spent a lot of time to elaborate on and make more
complicated. He tried to find that basic story and work from that. During the
work he of course consulted what others he had to say about the book, like
annotated versions of different kinds.
Then he took to the piano and played his music to one of the poems Joyce had
in Finnegans Wake, including planned interjections of phrases from the audience.
The evening ended with a presentation of the James Joyce Society in the form
of their Malmö branch. We heard about their monthly group discussions around
Finnegans Wake. They read and discuss it together and have during a couple of
years reached chapter 8. However, their Stockholm counterpart, who has a
similar discussion group, is said to have been active for 20 years, during
which they've only reached page 17...
It seems, to paraphrase Winston Churchill, that James Joyce is a riddle,
wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma.
--Ahrvid Engholm
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Första två sidorna av Finnegans Wake (från en PDF-upplaga):
riverrun, past Eve and Adam’s, from swerve of shore to bend of bay,
brings us by a commodius vicus of recirculation back to Howth Castle
and Environs.
Sir Tristram, violer d’amores, fr’over the short sea, had passen-core
rearrived from North Armorica on this side the scraggy isthmus of
Europe Minor to wielderfight his penisolate war: nor had topsawyer’s
rocks by the stream Oconee exaggerated themselse to Laurens County’s
gorgios while they went doublin their mumper all the time: nor avoice
from afire bellowsed mishe mishe to tauftauf thuartpeatrick not yet,
though venissoon after, had a kidscad buttended a bland old isaac: not
yet, though all’s fair in vanessy, were sosie sesthers wroth with twone
nathandjoe. Rot a peck of pa’s malt had Jhem or Shen brewed by arclight
and rory end to the regginbrow was to be seen ringsome on the aquaface.
The fall
(bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordenenthur
— nuk!) of
a once wallstrait oldparr is retaled early in bed and later on life down
through all christian minstrelsy. The great fall of the offwall entailed at
such short notice the pftjschute of Finnegan, erse solid man, that the
humptyhillhead of humself prumptly sends an unquiring one well to the
west in quest of his tumptytumtoes: and their upturnpikepointandplace
is at the knock out in the park where oranges have been laid to rust upon
the green since dev-linsfirst loved livvy.
What clashes here of wills gen wonts, oystrygods gaggin fishy-gods!
Brékkek Kékkek Kékkek Kékkek! Kóax Kóax Kóax! Ualu Ualu Ualu!
Quaouauh! Where the Baddelaries partisans are still out to mathmaster
Malachus Micgranes and the Verdons cata-pelting the camibalistics out
of the Whoyteboyce of Hoodie Head. Assiegates and boomeringstroms.
Sod’s brood, be me fear! Sanglorians, save! Arms apeal with larms,
appalling. Killykill-killy: a toll, a toll. What chance cuddleys, what
cashels aired and ventilated! What bidimetoloves sinduced by what
tegotetab-solvers! What true feeling for their’s hayair with what strawng
voice of false jiccup! O here here how hoth sprowled met the duskt the
father of fornicationists but, (O my shining stars and body!) how hath
fanespanned most high heaven the skysign of soft advertisement! But
was iz? Iseut? Ere were sewers? The oaks of ald now they lie in peat yet
elms leap where askes lay. Phall if you but will, rise you must: and none
so soon either shall the pharce for the nunce come to a setdown secular
phoenish.
Bygmester Finnegan, of the Stuttering Hand, freemen’s mau-rer, lived in
the broadest way immarginable in his rushlit toofar — back for
messuages before joshuan judges had given us numbers or Helviticus
committed deuteronomy (one yeastyday he sternely struxk his tete in a
tub for to watsch the future of his fates but ere he swiftly stook it out
again, by the might of moses, the very wat-er was eviparated and all the
guenneses had met their exodus so that ought to show you what a
pentschanjeuchy chap he was!) and during mighty odd years this man of
hod, cement and edi-fices in Toper’s Thorp piled buildung supra
buildung pon the banks for the livers by the Soangso. He addle liddle
phifie Annie ugged the little craythur. Wither hayre in honds tuck up
your part inher. Oftwhile balbulous, mithre ahead, with goodly trowel in
grasp and ivoroiled overalls which he habitacularly fondseed, like
Haroun Childeric Eggeberth he would caligulate by multiplicab-les the
alltitude and malltitude until he seesaw by neatlight of the liquor
wheretwin ’twas born, his roundhead staple of other days to rise in
undress maisonry upstanded (joygrantit!), a waalworth of a skyerscape
of most eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating from next to nothing and
celescalating the himals and all, hierarchitec-titiptitoploftical, with a
burning bush abob off its baubletop and with larrons o’toolers clittering
up and tombles a’buckets clottering down.
Of the first was he to bare arms and a name: Wassaily Boos-laeugh of
Riesengeborg. His crest of huroldry, in vert with ancillars, troublant,
argent, a hegoak, poursuivant, horrid, horned. His scutschum fessed,
with archers strung, helio, of the second. Hootch is for husbandman
handling his hoe. Hohohoho, Mister Finn, you’re going to be Mister
Finnagain! Comeday morm and, O, you’re vine! Sendday’s eve and, ah,
you’re vinegar! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, you’re going to be fined again!
What then agentlike brought about that tragoady thundersday this
municipal sin business? Our cubehouse still rocks as earwitness to the
thunder of his arafatas but we hear also through successive ages that
-----
(Dessa två sidor på svenska genom Google Translate. Som ni ser ger programvaran
upp på många ställen...)
riverrun, förbi Eve och Adams, från swerve of shore till bend av bay,
ger oss av en commodius vicus av recirkulation tillbaka till Howth Castle
och omgivningar.
Sir Tristram, violer d'amores, över korta havet, hade passformkärna
backrived från North Armorica på denna sida scraggy isthmus av
Europa Mindre för att rida sitt penisolat krig: Inte heller hade det toppsawyer
stenar av strömmen Oconee överdrivna demselse till Laurens County
gorgios medan de gick dubbelt så mycket som möjligt och inte undviker
från avire bellowsed mishe mis att tauftauf thuartpeatrick ännu inte,
även om venisson efter, hade en barnkammare buttended en blid gammal isaac: inte
ändå, trots att allt är rättvist i vanäritet, var sosie sesthers vred med tweon
nathandjoe. Råt en peck av fars malt hade Jhem eller Shen bryggt av arclight
och rory slutet till regginbrow var att ses ringande på aquaface.
Fallet
(bababadalgharaghtakamminarronnkonnbronntonnerronntuonnthunntrovarrhounawnskawntoohoohoordeenthur
- nuk!) Av
En gång en gång murad gammalpar retales tidigt i sängen och senare livslängden
genom alla kristna minstrelsy. Offwallets stora fall innebar att
så kort varsel av Finnegans pftjschute, fast fast man, att
humptyhillhead av humself prumptly skickar en unquiring en bra till
väst i strävan efter hans tumptytumtoes: och deras upturnpikepointandplace
ligger vid banan i parken där apelsiner har lagts till rost på
den gröna sedan dev-linsfirst älskade livvy.
Vad kolliderar här med viljens gärningar, oystrygods gaggin fishy-gudar!
Brékkek Kékkek Kékkek Kékkek! Kóax Kóax Kóax! Ualu Ualu Ualu!
Quaouauh! Där de baddelära partisanerna fortfarande är ute efter matematikern
Malachus Micgranes och Verdons cata-pelting camibalistics ut
av Whoyteboyce Hoodie Head. Assiegates och boomeringstroms.
Soda säd, var mig rädd! Sanglorians, spara! Arms apeal med alarm,
skrämmande. Killykill-killy: en vägtull, en vägtull. Vilken chans kramar, vad
kassetter luftas och ventileras! Vilka bidimetoloves syndade av vad
tegotetab lösare! Vilken äkta känsla för deras hayair med vilken strawng
röst falsk jikke! O här här hur mjuka möttes skummen
fader till otuktiga men, (O mina lysande stjärnor och kropp!) hur har det
fanespanned mest höga himlen skysign av mjuk reklam! Men
var iz? Iseut? Ere var avlopp? Äggarna av ald nu ligger de i torv än
elms språng där frågar lå. Phall om du men vill stiga måste du: och ingen
så snart ska heller fallet för nunnan komma till en uppsättning sekulär
phoenish.
Bygmester Finnegan, av Stuttering Hand, fransmannens mauer, bodde i
det bredaste sättet som är ouppnåeligt i hans rushlit toofar - tillbaka för
messuages innan joshuan domare hade gett oss siffror eller Helviticus
engagerade deuteronomy (en jättedag han sternely struxk hans tete i a
badkar för att förlora framtiden för hans öde men att han snabbt brinner ut det
igen, av Mose Många, var det väldigt väldigt och evigt
guenneses hade träffat deras exodus så att det skulle visa dig vad en
pentschanjeuchy chap han var!) och under mäktiga udda år den här mannen av
hod, cement och edi-fices i Topers Thorp piled buildung supra
buildung pon bankerna för levererna av Soangso. Han addle liddle
phifie Annie lade den lilla craythur. Wither hayre i hundar tuck up
din del arv. Oftwhile balbulous, mithre framåt, med bra trowel in
greppa och ivoroiled överaller som han vanligtvis förtjänar, som
Haroun Childeric Eggeberth han skulle kaligulera genom multiplicab-les the
allihopa och malltitude tills han ser genom vitljus av spritet
wheretwin 'twas född, hans roundhead häftning av andra dagar att stiga in
klä upp maisonry upstanded (joygrantit!), en waalworth av en skyerscape
av de mest eyeful hoyth entowerly, erigenating från nästan ingenting och
celescalating himalerna och allt, hierarkit-titiptitoploftical, med a
brinnande buske från sin bubbelpanna och med larrons o'toolers klitterande
upp och tombles a'buckets clottering ner.
Av den första var han att bära armar och ett namn: Wassaily Boos-laeugh of
Riesengeborg. Hans krans av huroldry, i vert med ancillars, troublant,
argent, en häftig, poursuivant, horrid, horned. Hans scutschum fessed,
med bågar sprang, helio, av den andra. Hootch är för jordbrukare
hanterar hans hov. Hohohoho, herre Finn, du kommer att bli herre
Finnagain! Comeday morm och, O, du är vinstockar! Senddagsafton och ah,
du är ättika! Hahahaha, Mister Funn, du kommer att bli böter igen!
Vad då agentlike gjorde för den tragoady thundersday detta
kommunala syndaffärer? Vårt kubikhus rockar fortfarande som öronbevis för
åska av hans arafat men vi hör också genom successiva åldrar att
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