December 2002: Vol. 82, No. 1

An instinct for translation

Katharina Wilson's "fateful" discovery aids fellow Hungarian in literature's biggest prize

by Alex Crevar (AB '93)

n communist-era Hungary, people waited. Inside the Budapest office of a Hungarian literary agency, Katharina Wilson was growing impatient for an overdue meeting when her attention wandered to the books that crammed the lobby's shelves. From across thousands of titles—embossed, engraved, and printed on bindings—her eyes fell on one that neither she, nor nearly anyone else, save a handful of academics, had heard of—Sorstalansag (Fateless in English) by Hungarian author Imre Kertész. "I was in the office because my husband and I were on a Fulbright to translate the plays of Árpad Göncz," says Wilson (AB '74, MA '76), a UGA comparative literature professor since 1981. The Hungarian native was the 1997 winner of both the Georgia Teacher of the Year Award and the University's highest teaching honor: the Josiah Meigs Award. "I pulled this book off the shelf and knew right away that this was a work of real genius."

Comp lit professor Katharina Wilson knew she had discovered "real genius" when she began reading future Nobel Prize winner Imre Kertész while waiting for an appointment in Budapest.

Almost everyone Wilson asked suggested that she forget about the translation, but her intuition told her otherwise. And it was Göncz, whom Wilson had come to translate, who convinced her, finally, that this was a true man of letters, worthy of the grueling translation process. Göncz, it turns out, was not only a confidant but also Wilson's uncle, and the president of Hungary from 1990-2000. But even Göncz's and Wilson's instincts could not have predicted that Kertész would, within the decade, stand where Ernest Hemingway and Albert Camus once stood—on stage in Stockholm, Sweden, accepting the 2002 Nobel Prize for Literature.

Within a week Wilson finished reading the book and contacted Kertész about her and her husband, Christopher Wilson (AB '67, MA '76), translating Sorstalansag (his first novel—published in 1975) into English. "From the beginning [Kertész] was helpful with passages but he seemed like he wanted to keep his distance and see what I could do," says Wilson, who was raised and schooled in Vienna, Austria. What the Wilsons did, definitively, was translate an obscure work—Fateless: Northwestern University Press, 1992—about a teenager's innocent view of life from inside a World War II concentration camp. But what they created, arguably, was an audience—Fateless was a top-50 book in '92—and the notoriety necessary to make Kertész a Nobel Laureate.

hether a book Katharina Wilson translates becomes part of a Nobel-worthy body of work (she also translated Kertész's third novel in the prize-winning trilogy: Kaddish For A Child Not Born: Northwestern, 1997) or is heralded by academics—who honor it as classroom text—the laborious process is the same. The task is similar to an actor gearing up for a period piece. To accurately interpret a work, Wilson, who has published 21 books, believes one must be thoroughly familiar with the language, setting, themes, genre, and anything peculiar to that author. "The study of humanities is only possible because translations make available texts for those who do not have the linguistic tools. Without that scholarly work, you could not relate cultures or compare literature."

Kertész's Nobel-winning novels were based on his experiences in Auschwitz and Buchenwald during World War II.

Georgia's comparative literature department, with 17 full-time faculty members, is one of the largest in the world. And unlike many programs at other universities, it is freestanding—not enveloped within English. UGA's comp lit department offers courses in European, African, and Asian literature and is the home of eight language programs—the most at the University. It houses three study abroad programs—in Avignon, Budapest, and Tanzania—and is planning a fourth in India. "The world's economy and culture are becoming increasingly international," says departmental co-head Jim McGregor, "but language remains a barrier. We try to bring foreign cultures into the American experience, keeping our fingers on things so other people don't have to. Katja's work with Kertész is a great example—before she translated those books, no one was paying attention."

Wilson says that almost everything she publishes comes from ideas, which students provide. "For instance, Kertész's book was a theme I had thought of after something a student said made me realize [students] are no longer affected by the Holocaust," says Wilson, the 1987 winner of the Columbia University Translation Center Award for Best Literary Translation for her Göncz translations. "So, it was easy for me to get drawn into Fateless because I saw how beneficial it was going to be to teach. The students force me to research, equipping me to better instruct, enabling them to learn more." In Wilson's 8:00 honors class—World Literature—in North Campus' Joe Brown Hall, she is a cross between medieval (her specialty—specifically 10th century) quiz show host and academic taskmaster. She supplies ample amounts of goading, humor, and discipline to keep the smartest students alert and those not yet awake in a constant state of unbalance. As she defines the seven deadly sins on the chalkboard, she stops at sloth. "You have a sacred responsibility to realize, and then do something with, your talents."

he most difficult aspect of translating Kertész's novel Fateless (singled out in the Nobel announcement on Oct. 10), according to Wilson, is the same thing that makes it a work of genius. "You have a 14 1/2-year-old boy, whose persona is typical of a Central European youth—articulate, well-read, innocent," says Wilson, who compares the novel's potential for engaging young readers to The Diary of Anne Frank. "But he is without judgement and is not even really aware of his own Jewishness until a yellow star is pinned to him. That lack of judgement is the brilliance of Kertész." Wilson states that by refusing to make a decision about the character's situation but merely allowing him to reside in it matter-of-factly, the author forces a reader response. "But that is also the hardest part of the translation because the temptation is to editorialize and it is our job to make the character's voice credible without personal judgements." Avoiding editorial temptation is something like elocutionary trench warfare, where the translator creeps word to word making sure proper diction is used. This internal struggle is evidenced below with the first line from Fateless and then an example of Wilson's interpretive self-talk.

"Today I skipped school."

Wilson: The first sentence of any text is, of course, extremely important. It sets the tone, it may or may not capture your imagination—it sets norms for what follows. The original literally says, "Today I did not go to school." However, the original sentence only has four words (Hungarian does not use auxiliaries). The English equivalent has seven. That makes it a little unwieldy, and the rhythm is too iambic for a straightforward declarative phrase. We needed a verb that would combine the negation and the direction (to school). "Today I played hooky" was an option, but it was too colloquial, so we settled for today I skipped school. Four words, straightforward, no rhythmic embellishments—not too colloquial.

The process for Fateless, as with the three other books the Wilsons have collaborated on, started with Katharina reading the book multiple times and making a rough translation. Then Christopher made suggestions as a native English speaker. The two then debated the work line for line until they were satisfied with the result. "Working together is fun but extremely hard because we take pride in making it shine," says Christopher. "In the case of Fateless, I know we were successful because when I hear our own 15-year-old daughter speak, I hear the character's persona. Because of that, I know that Kertész got it right, too."

The Wilsons, with their 12- and 15-year-old daughters, will travel to the Center for Austrian and Central European Studies in Edmonton, Canada, for the Nobel Prize ceremony. They will celebrate with invited diplomats, cultural attachés, and Fulbright scholars. When Kertész accepts the award on Dec. 10, it will mark the end of a journey. For Kertész, who believes the Holocaust is not merely an event but "a value," the honor is recognition for a lifetime of toil. For Wilson, it has been a long-deserved spotlight for work she considers a labor of love. She has been interviewed more than 40 times and has been commissioned to translate an excerpt of Kertész's second novel in the trilogy, Failure, for The New Yorker. And for Northwestern University Press, which sold a combined 5,000 copies of Fateless and Kaddish For A Child Not Born prior to the award, it is time to push the turbo button on the printer. Instantly the publisher had more than 40,000 orders from individuals and bookstores.

"What Kertész was saying is that without checks and balances the Holocaust could happen again. The Nobel committee deserves a lot of credit. They understood the message and the innovative style and took a chance on a relatively unknown Hungarian author."

Summer camp on steroids

Honor students hit the road on two-month field study program that provides fun and plenty of food for thought

photos by Peter Frey

ast June, 26 honor students boarded a bus for the summer camp vacation of a lifetime. Imagine pitching a tent, keeping a journal, and identifying bugs and rocks at not just one site in the woods but 20—spanning two months and 10,000 miles. And while the ecology, geology, and anthropology undergrads tested for mining pollution in a Butte, Mont., stream and took geothermal readings from a geyser in Yellowstone, they were receiving course credits as part of UGA's interdisciplinary field-study program.

From Athens, the students spent a week at the UGA Marine Institute on Sapelo Island before heading to the Mississippi River. The budding scientists then travelled across the Southwest to the Pacific coast. From there, they went north and then east to Glacier National Park near Canada and traversed the Rocky Mountains. The group finished the whirlwind tour in St. Louis before busing back to Athens.

Tour highlights included a 2 a.m. Grand Canyon hike, treks through Bryce and Zion canyons in Utah, an old-growth forest survey in Yosemite, a San Francisco geological study, and a march to the top of Mount St. Helen's. At each site, the students gathered for hands-on lectures from UGA faculty, who rotated into the program as their expertise matched the changing terrain.

The students ranged in age from rising first-year students to exiting seniors. They received between 15 and 18 combined science and P.E. credits for their summer experience. But more importantly, they learned about their country from mantle to mountain top.

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