Flying Carpet

Here is a closeup of a nice handwoven rug I just bought. I hope you can see the airplanes! Does this make it a ковер-самолет? My son certainly thinks so.

Tired Hands, Reading Backwards

I love translating, but my hands get very tired most days. Each particular task comes with its own ache - the first two fingers on my right hand burn after a day of time coding subtitles, my left wrist gives out on me after a couple of hours of fast typing, and the space between my right thumb and forefinger gets sore when I use the mouse to edit. And for a hobby, well, I knit!

Since I want to keep working for many, many years these aches and pains are starting to worry me. I've already tried the fancy ergonomic keyboard. It didn't help. Other translators swear by speech recognition software. I'm kind of a technophobe, so I've put off investigating this possible solution. But I noticed the free Dragon Dictation app in iTunes the other week and decided to give it a spin.

Two observations: 1. The software works surprisingly well. 2. I don't like dictating translations.

Working with Dragon Dictation has made me realize how deeply ingrained my translation habits are. When I look at a chunk of Russian text, I start typing words that I think may be useful in the translation. Not always in order. Then I use shortcut keys to run back and forth between the words, rearranging them and adding new information. To an observer, it probably looks like I'm playing a strange version of the shell game. If I want to use dictation software, I'll have to form complete sentences in my head and then read them aloud. That's doable, but it won't be easy.

I do have one trick up my sleeve, though. When I'm in a big hurry, I do what I call "reading backwards." Longer Russian sentences tend to organize their information "backwards," putting the new or important information at the end. English puts new or important information at the beginning of sentences. So I read each Russian sentence backwards and type it out in English as I read. This works surprisingly well, and it may be a good technique to combine with dictation to save my poor hands some pain.

О шерифах и ментах

Наконец-то решила заняться шерифом. Почему? Потому, что меня часто спрашивают, чем этот шериф отличается от state trooper или police. Попробую ответить коротко.

Шериф появился раньше всех в истории правоохранительных структур в Америке. Власти в Англии назначали шерифов, чтобы следить за порядком и собирать налоги в колониях. После революции, должность шерифа продолжала существовать без особых изменений. В случае надобности, шериф мог призывать местных жителей на облаву преступника, но шерифские будни протекали иначе - содержанием тюрьмы, организацией выборов и собиранием налогов. Такая общая административная работа.

State troopers и police - структуры более современные. Бостон создал первый городской police department в 1838 г. State troopers (они же и Highway Patrol) появились уже в 20-м веке. Должностные инструкции у них бывают разные, в зависимости от штата, но как правило state troopers занимаются движением на трассах и личной безопасностью губернатора, а police просто ловят преступников в черте своего города.

В больших городах, старый шериф теперь всего лишь доставляет подозреваемых из jail в courthouse и обратно. В глухих местах, шериф и его помощники патрулируют за чертой городков и населенных пунктов.

Если есть еще вопросы, пишите!

The Snake Eaters

Hedgehogs are blessed with wonderfully descriptive names in every language. The English name brings to mind a little animal snuffling around under bushes. In German, they are called igel, from an Old Teutonic word for "prickly." In Russian, a hedgehog is a ёж (yozh). I couldn't think what the root would be offhand, so I decided to look it up for fun.

According to Vassmer, the name ёж is like the name медведь (med-VED', "bear") because it is a cyper, in this case meaning "snake eater."

If you look at the Vassmer entry on ёж you, too, may notice something I found strange at first. He says that the Russian name for hedgehog also gave us the word for blackberry - ежевика (ye-zhe-VEE-ka), a spiny hedge if I ever met one! Perhaps hedgehogs got their English name not because they waddle around under bushes, but because they are spiny like hedges.

Thinking about spiny hedges reminded me of the Czech hedgehog, an anti-tank obstacle from WWII.

In parting, here is a Russian hedgehog doing what all Russian hedgehogs are supposed to do when no one is looking - carrying mushrooms on his quills:

More Reading

I had a bit of a lull in late November and got some reading done. I'd been looking forward to stepping back from the actual work of translation and reading about why it's so important (not that I need convincing, mind).

Even though I've been a translator for 12 years now, something about Why Translation Matters made me feel like I was on the outside looking in. Much of the discussion is on academic issues - Should students be allowed to read translated literature at university? Why do literary critics give translators the cold shoulder? - that don't really get my blood pumping.

On the other hand, I did enjoy Grossman's plucky attempt to define good literary translation and her discussion of all the ways linguistic insularity hurts us as a culture. One particular sentence stuck with me:

"In short, there seems to be overwhelming evidence to the effect that if you wish to earn your living as a writer, your works must be translated into English regardless of your native language."

That's a huge obstacle for most, if not all, young authors and authors from small countries. Since I am so often approached by authors looking to have their manuscripts translated into English, let me share the advice I give them:

1. If you're still looking for an agent, don't get your whole book translated right away. Most agents only want to see a summary plus a chapter or two. You can get the rest of the book translated after you have a lead.

2. Get your translator to help you write a good pitch letter to go along with the synopsis you send out to prospective agents.

3. Only proposition agents who say they handle international fiction.

4. Think about submitting translated short stories to magazines that publish fiction before trying to shop a big novel.

5. If you're unfamiliar with the U.S. publishing industry, invest in a book like Writer's Market to find out what publishers might want to see your work.

Black Bread

Like black bread? Me, too.

Thinly sliced black bread with butter and caviar. Black bread with a piece of sheep's milk cheese and sprigs of green onion. Black bread spread with thick buckwheat honey.

I'm intrigued as to why English recipes for Russian black bread always include things like molasses, cocoa and espresso powder. While black bread goes WITH lots of things, not many things go IN it - the recipe for real Russian black bread is utter simplicity.

My personal favorite is a bread called Darnitsky. Called "gray bread" in Russian, the only ingredients in Darnitsky are whole rye flour, wheat flour, salt, water and yeast. When you cut it open it is gray and soft inside and has small, evenly spaced holes.

My next favorite is Borodinsky. This is a dark rye whose dry ingredients are limited to rye flour, whole wheat flour and rye malt. A small dollop of molasses is added with the salt and yeast, and each loaf is topped with aromatic coriander seeds. Borodinsky is a dense bread that makes excellent garlic croutons.

An important thing to understand about Russian food is that most of it is highly regulated by state standards called GOSTs. All bread labeled Borodinsky must contain 80% whole rye flour, 15% whole wheat flour and 5% malted rye. A Reinheitsgebot for bread, if you will.

You can put cocoa and grated lemon in your rye bread if you want, but the Russian government's official position is that such additives are nonsense. And most of the bread-eating public seems to agree. Expensive hearth-style breads with creative ingredients (and without the GOST stamp of approval) are starting to appear in upscale supermarkets, but the majority raises an eyebrow and buys traditional bread.

Bread lovers in Russia will tell you that where you buy your bread is just as important as the GOST stamp. The best bread comes from bread factory stores.

When I'm in Korolev, I go to Freshest Bread (in the photo), the store operated by the local bread factory, Kaliningradkhleb. According to the factory's official history, it was once part of a chain that belonged to the legendary Moscow baker Ivan Filippov. Nationalized and then privatized (or re-privatized?), the bakery is still there, and its bread is supremely good.

Good Food

Russian Cuisine in Exile, by Pyotr Vail and Alexandr Genis

I bought this book many years ago in a basement book store somewhere in Moscow, but it wasn't until quite recently that I was able to appreciate it. I think I had to go through years of trial and error in the kitchen followed by mother-in-law boot camp to be worthy of the wisdom Vail and Genis share in Russian Cuisine in Exile, namely: put the garlic in the soup after you've turned off the heat. You'll get more bite that way.