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I've been hard at work on translating a historical novel by Lee Jung-myung (English title: The Investigation) that's due to be submitted to the publisher in late January. It's a long, dense novel; the original was published in two volumes. Usually, my type-A temperament compels me to finish the final draft at least two months prior to the due date. I use the final two months to tinker with and tighten the prose, reveling in what I consider to be extra time. This has been the case for all of my translations to date, and I always build in time for fine tuning when I give an estimated completion date to editors and publishers. This time, however, everything went haywire, and with only a month to go, I still have a lot of work to do.
There were many factors that contributed to my predicament. For one thing, I have a full-time job, and now with a baby, I have limited time to work on translations. I only get to work on what I consider the fun stuff on Saturdays or occasionally at night after my daughter's asleep. Until October, I was working simultaneously on Sun-mi Hwang's ''The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly.'' This fall, my daughter started daycare, which introduced a whole new slew of germs into our household; she's gotten sick at least once or twice a month, knocking out several of my weekends. To top it off, I got very busy at work; my boss left for a new job, and things got a little hairy for a while. I didn't have the mental fortitude to come home after a hard day at work and dive into something else. It doesn't help that I'm a hopeless workaholic. If left to my own devices, I would sit at my computer for 10 hours without a break. Because of this tendency, I can't get substantive work done at night, because I stay up too late and then sleep fitfully, phrases and scenes from the book floating around in my dreams.
Luckily, I'm now in the fun stage: asking the author numerous questions about continuity and characters' behaviors that struck me as odd. Mr. Lee has been extremely helpful, even consulting his Japanese translator as to how I should Romanize the poet Yun Dong-ju's Japanese name. In my opinion, this is one of the best parts about translating a living author's work; I get to engage with the novel on a different level, getting a glimpse of the author's thought process and the characters' backstory from the author himself, which allows me to make edits for the English-language audience.
While Mr. Lee has gone above and beyond to answer my questions, there are some things he can't help me with. For one, whether I should keep Japanese and Korean names in the Asian convention (family name before given name) or change them to the Western convention (given name before family name). In all my other translations, I kept the Korean names the traditional way, but this novel is proving trickier. Since Japan's Romanization convention is the Western style, it would be confusing to have Japanese names in the Western convention and Korean names in the Asian convention; it would also be odd to go against established Japanese Romanization rules and put everyone's last names first.
For now, I'm going to go with the Western convention; since Japan has a set policy of how names are Romanized and Korea allows either style, I figure it's the best choice. But I wonder whether it's in bad form to follow the Japanese lead, especially considering the fraught history between Korea and Japan. Also, this novel is set in a Japanese prison during World War II, and depicts Korean prisoners being tortured, killed, and experimented on. The content of the novel makes me think that following the Japanese style is the wrong choice. Ultimately, though, this is one of the points I will discuss with my editor; I'm sure I'll be at peace with our decision in the end.
As a translator, what annoys me the most is when people blame the translator for mistranslating a novel without understanding why certain edits are made. Many readers are not aware of the close working relationship between translators and authors; we discuss various elements of a novel in great depth, and sometimes the author makes the decision to change or cut something in the text. Other times, the editor will suggest a different angle or ask for clarification. In my experience, every time that has happened, the author was not only consulted, but also fully behind the editorial decision.
Authors tend to believe that their novel has become the reader's once it leaves their hands. They appreciate and acknowledge that other cultures and languages have different ways of understanding and expressing certain ideas or feelings; all of my authors have been gracious and willing to provide the best possible reading experience to English readers. I'm excited to get on to the next stage of bringing this book to the public: exchanging drafts with my editor and asking the author for his input.
Chi-Young Kim is a literary translator based in Los Angeles. She has translated works by Shin Kyung-sook, Kim Young-ha, and Jo Kyung-ran. Contact her at chiyoung@chiyoungkim.com or via her website, chiyoungkim.com.
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