Maria Angelidou

Hello, Mrs. Angelidou. We are glad that you have some time for us… 

I thank you for the invitation. 

…and you are willing to answer our questions about translation. 

My pleasure.

First we’d like to ask you if it was a lifelong dream to be involved in translation. 

No. When I was little I didn’t even know that this job exists. I discovered it by chance when I was a university student. I didn’t want to give private lessons like most students did – I studied in the Faculty of Philosophy in Athens – so I started doing translations alongside my studies. I liked it very much, but I didn’t think that I would do this job in my life, because at the time I was translating Vi. Per. Nora [paperback series sold at kiosks]. I must say, however, that through Vi. Per. Nora I learned a lot not only about translation, but also about literature in general. And then I left for Germany and that’s how I learned a third foreign language. I liked the contact with foreign languages and in Greece there weren’t enough translators of German at the time, so I happened to get involved. The first translations I did that weren’t Vi. Per. Nora were translations from German for Plethron Publications. I liked this job so much that I quitted all others. I resigned from the public sector and I was involved in translation exclusively. And I haven’t regretted it. It is, I think, the most wonderful job there is.

What image of translation did you have before and after you became a professional translator?

At first, as I told you, I had no image at all. I don’t know what image a child may have in their mind. Perhaps I imagined that books are translated by themselves, I don’t know. However, I had no specific image in my mind. When I started translating, it was a job that fascinated me from the beginning. The process of reading and understanding something as well as I should have, as I wanted to, as I was able to and then telling it, writing it again myself, in such a way that others would understand it, too, excited me. I liked it very much from the beginning. Now, of course, after so many years… I have been doing this job non-stop for many years, I am what we call a professional translator. I’m very lucky in something else, too, I only translate literature. I don’t know what image I would have if I translated diagnoses or medical texts, financial, legal or technical texts. Unfortunately, I don’t fully understand the texts I mentioned, not even in Greek. But translating literature is a wonderful job. Even now, forty years later, I’m not bored. I can’t get bored. I’m still learning. Every book is… You learn so much that you should pay to do this job, not be paid at all. Okay, translators should certainly be paid, delete that. But it’s a job that is rewarding not only moneywise, but also in many other ways. That’s what I mean. If I talk too much, please stop me, because when I talk about translation I may get passionate, excited and never stop talking.

That’s exactly what we want, we want you to talk to us about translation. How do you feel when you translate? What does translation offer you and what motivates you? 

Exactly that, to feel. This work doesn’t have to do with the brain or with the intellect, in my opinion of course, it’s soul work. It’s a job where you slowly train your soul, or rather you exercise your soul so that it gets engaged and it works to achieve the desired result. In other types of texts, in other categories of written discourse, this may not be necessary, but in literature, it is the main thing that a translator needs, I think. Everything else, that is, good knowledge of the foreign language from which you are translating, excellent knowledge of the native language into which you are translating, all these things, even if you have some weaknesses, you can correct them. But not feeling what you are translating and how you are translating it, is not possible. This is the first thing a translator should have. And when you have it, when it happens, it’s a wonderful thing. I live in the book I translate. I live in this book for as long as its translation lasts. It has happened to me to be happy, joyful, because things in the book are happy. Or to be sad or cry because things in the book are like that. In my opinion, this is the job, to feel that way. Another thing one should definitely have, and I’m happy that I have it, and many times during the day I understand that I need to use it, is common sense. It is a much more important qualification for a translator than a good knowledge of a foreign and a native language. Common sense is the be-all and end-all in translation.

You speak, you know many languages.

I don’t know them all to the same degree. My command of each language isn’t equally good. Regarding German, I’ve been in a German-speaking marriage. The other languages can’t be compared to German even if I’ve known them for more years. My knowledge of English and French spans many more years and the books I’ve translated from these languages are more. But regarding German, I’ve been in a German-speaking marriage. And not all languages are the same, not all combinations are the same. And everyone, even a translator, goes through phases in their life during which a certain language is more preferred than the others. I feel this very strongly, that is, there are phases when I say, my God, at this moment I’d like English. I only read English, I only want to speak English or I only want French. I am a different person when I speak French, a different person when I speak German, a different person in any other language.

The phenomenon of the diver.

Is that a term? 

When the diver is under the sea they are a different person than when they are on the surface. And it is used regarding languages.

Oh, yes, exactly. The same goes for language. You feel differently and you think differently in each language.

What is your relationship with the authors you are translating?

I was lucky enough to translate a lot of living authors. This is another kind of relationship. But you still have a relationship with the deceased, too. If you translate an author… E.g. I’ve translated many novels by Joseph Roth. He is my favorite German, German-speaking author, to be more precise. This is a relationship, too. But the relationship with the living authors is different. I’ve translated many living authors, not just Germans, of other nationalities, too. When the author is alive, I always try to get in touch with them. Not everyone is receptive. Not everyone is equally approachable. When I can, I have a good relationship with the author.

What is it like to translate Thomas Mann, for example, such a great writer? Not only him, I just mentioned him as an example.

What do you mean? What do I think of it? How do I feel?

Yes.

That depends on the literary piece of work. E.g. I’ve also translated many novels by Zweig, and it’s different when you translate the Chess Story, and when you translate Amok. Zweig himself is different. It’s different when you translate some of these historical and fictional biographies that he wrote. Each piece of work is different. I always try to be as close as possible to the one who writes. This means that I never treat the author with awe. I don’t feel awe while I work. I may feel it before, I may feel it after, but not while I’m working, because it would hinder me. I find awe a very deterrent feeling while doing this job. Translation is very creative, not in the sense of an arrogant person who considers creation to be supreme, but in a very humble sense. Translation is a creation which exercises you in humbleness. You know that no matter how good your creation is, it has an expiration date. Twenty years later, or thirty if you are lucky – more than that is out of the question – someone else will translate it. It may not be as good as your translation, but it will be more liked at that time, and it will be necessary and needed and required. So you learn. You have no hope of immortality through translation. I also write books. Nevertheless, I consider translation a better job than writing. And if I had to choose… I want to write as well, I don’t deny it, but if I had to choose I would only translate.

You told us you are a writer. How do you separate translation from writing?

What do you mean? Maybe I didn’t understand the question. 

When you write something, do you also think as a translator? That this could be translated or perhaps not?

Of course. I have to tell you something, it’s not a thought of mine, it’s an observation. Since I have translated books from many languages and some of them are Scandinavian, that is, small languages, like ours, I can tell you that many authors in the world now write, being aware that they should be able to be translated, that they should be able to be translated well. If they want to have a broad audience, in other words, if they want to reach everybody, they need to know that. And they know it. Greek authors, on the other hand, don’t know it. Reading Greek authors, you understand that they don’t think about the possibility of being translated. I do think about it. I don’t know if it is nice for the translator of your work. It’s nice when I think about it while writing, it feels good, but I’ve also felt very weird sometimes. On the contrary, when I’m the one who translates, I always feel good. I don’t feel it’s awkward or anything like that. I feel good.

Which literary genre interests you the most?

I like all genres. I really like children’s literature. I consider it one of the most difficult genres to translate if you really do it the way it deserves to be done. But it is also the one that shows you most prominently the idea that society and the world have, concerning both translation and children’s literature, as well as literature in general. In this genre, taboos are stronger. The “checks” you owe are to be immediately cashed, that is, one requires them before you even start translating. There are many prohibitions and impositions in this genre. You learn a lot about yourself and others around you when you translate children’s books. When you translate books for adults, there are such things too, but they are more hidden.

Regarding the quality of translation, how do you think it can be improved?

By putting your soul into it and by using common sense. And certainly through learning. And also through the interest that has been grown lately in this field. Because even just a few years ago, there was no interest in translation. What we are doing here right now is living proof that there is interest in translation. It’s inevitable, because there is a greater need for translation.

So you are optimistic about the future.

Absolutely. I am absolutely optimistic. I am not satisfied with the quality level of translations. No, sorry. There are translations that are excellent. Really excellent. But there are also many that shouldn’t be as they are, and you can feel that in literature. However, they are, too, necessary. One must accept that some translations will be great, very good, very special, and there will be a large number of translations that will be good, mediocre, and there will be some that are unacceptable. This happens anyway. There are, of course, different criteria in each time period. We now have different criteria for translation than we did back in the 20th century or even in the 19th century. We translate many things differently and many things remain untranslated in the text. These are all signs of the world around us, they are not, so to speak, ratings of translation work. But they are observations that we can make by observing what is going on around us.

What are the difficulties of translation? Can you give us an example? 

Difficulties? Each book has its own difficulty. Do you mean the difficulties of a specific book or the difficulties of a translator’s profession?

Whatever you want. 

Translation is a very difficult profession. There are no professional translators, at least here, in the country we live in and in the language we also live in. There are very few professional translators, because most people cannot make a living from this job. I think I’m one of the very few who’ve lived their whole life as a professional translator. And I work well, I’m satisfied. The fees are very bad, but not so bad that one cannot make a living from them. The greatest difficulty, I think, is that this work – how can I put it? – shouldn’t be done perfunctorily. Doing it for the sake of doing it cannot work in this job and a lot of people do it that way. As in most cases, the greatest danger is ourselves. Other than that, there are, of course, bad fees, non-existing fees, because that happens, too. What else can I say?

Does a specific example come to mind? For example, you have translated Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. 

I’ve translated all literary pieces of work by Süskind into Greek.

Exactly. Is there any specific difficulty regarding this great author? 

Süskind is a writer who never comes into contact, not only with his translator, but with anyone. This is an obstacle. Certainly not such that you say you won’t work with this author or his books. He doesn’t have stylistic difficulties as an author, in my opinion. He has lexical difficulties. Of course, I translated these books many years ago, but I know the feeling they have left me with very well. I remember the taste they have left me with very well. He is a person who likes to search for words. If the translator likes that, too, then there is no problem. I was lucky to translate him when I was young, because you do this kind of searching easily when you are young. Not that it’s difficult when you’re older, but I couldn’t have translated Thomas Mann or Joseph Roth that well when I was 25, that’s what I mean. Every author has their own difficulties and every author deserves to be loved by their translators as much as the latter love themselves. I’d like this if I wrote. Well, I do write – I keep forgetting it when I talk about translation – and I’d like the translator who will translate me, my text, to love it as much as I do. I’m willing to do that with a lot of texts I translate. And from the moment the text is published – let’s be honest – it ceases to belong to the author only. It also belongs to the reader, to the translator, it belongs equally to all those who love it. I believe that a reader may enjoy my book more than I do. They may experience it more than I do. So it belongs to them, doesn’t it? It does. I still have a claim or a relationship with this text, but the reader also has a very close relationship. And the translator is a great reader. There’s no better reader than the translator. That’s what the translator should be, a great reader.

How do you deal with criticism of your work?

Pardon?

Criticism.

I’d like to deal with criticism of my work, but there isn’t any. Translation criticism is very demanding. It’s not just – how can I put it? – it’s not that critics aren’t interested in reviewing a translation, but it’s a more difficult task. It’s easier to read a book and say, I liked the book, I didn’t like it, I liked it because the author had this style, or thought of this plot, I liked it because the author went beyond the genre limits, did something superior or something unprecedented or something that moved me personally. In order to do the same about a translator’s work, you have to drill down and read a lot. There is no reason for anyone to do that, because translation criticism is not a pleasure. In other words, laziness or indifference is not the only reason why we have scarce translation reviews, there are other tangible reasons, too. Besides the reviews focused on humiliation and degradation, because there are such, too, all other translation reviews are stereotypes and clichés, for example, “very good translation”, or “the translation flows”. I don’t know why this is good, when the text, so to speak, doesn’t flow. I am generally happy when there is at least this cliché, of course no one wants to hear anything bad. I’m still happy – at least in the beginning, in the first 30 years in this job I was happy when no one said anything about the translation, when the readers didn’t know that I had translated a book, because that meant that nothing disturbed them in the translation. So I’m happy when I’m invisible, not when someone praises me. I wouldn’t say no to praise, of course, I actually praise myself quite often, but in order to be realistic and to have contact with common sense, the translator’s work is not done to receive high praise. If one wants to win a lot of praise, they’d better write, not translate.

Our next question has to do with copyright. To what extent do you believe the law…

The law doesn’t apply.

Does it apply or not?

No, it doesn’t apply. We all know that. I was on the board of EKEBI [National Book Centre of Greece] for 5 years as a representative of professional translators, precisely for this reason, that is, to have the translator’s copyright recognized. Ιn vain. There was no recognition. In the end, not thanks to our own efforts, all translators and publishers were obliged to sign contracts which state that we are paid on the basis of copyright, of the copyright percentage rule, because we had to comply with the European law and, therefore, if we didn’t have such contracts, we were illegal. Now we all have such contracts that provide for a fee based on copyright, i.e. based on percentages. We have these contracts and we don’t respect them. All of us, in full cooperation – myself not excluded, I work like this, this is our market – receive a one-time fee and nothing further due to copyright. That’s the situation.

How necessary do you consider the editing of a translation? 

This is a sore issue here in Greece. The work of the editor is not clear here. Nor is the job of the proofreader. There are editors and proofreaders who are valuable, precious! I still remember corrections by Pantelis Boukalas in my texts 30 years ago. Υou can only be grateful to a good editor, because they really spare you something that would be a shame to suffer. They won’t spare you a blunder or a mistake. Such things happen and one can perhaps correct them through a second reading by themselves. But you may not pick up on an oversight or a silly mistake. A good editor will spare you this. But not every editor is like that. There are editors and proofreaders who, in order to justify their existence and their fee, will do things that are from unnecessary to criminal and that’s not nice, of course. That’s why I’m telling you that it’s a difficult relationship. Of course, one tries to cooperate with those who have, so to speak, a more humane approach.

Are you influenced by someone when choosing a title for your books? Who makes the decision?

The publisher who pays. You can’t be the one who decides. I can suggest an author, a title, and some publishers actually agree to it – after so many years of work we have this kind of relationship, too. Most of the times, though, the publisher suggests something to me, and now I have the luxury to only translate books that I really like, that are very… that I believe I like, that excite me, but the decision is made by the publisher. You can’t choose a title as a translator and say, I will translate that. Fine, so what? I have translations which I had done for a publishing house and the publishing house lost the copyright of the book and so the translation was in vain, it doesn’t exist, I can’t use it, because someone else acquires the copyright of the book and publishes it.

And a closing interview question. What advice would you give us as future translators, as students who want to be involved in translation?

To enjoy it. It’s the best job ever. It is really the most wonderful job there is. First, you never do the same thing twice in your life. Something like that is highly unlikely to happen. Jenny Mastoraki translated The Catcher in the Rye again, after 25 years. Okay, it may happen. It may happen to you once in your life, for one book of all you have translated. Normally you don’t do the same thing a second time, that alone is… Moreover, you learn a lot of things. Every book is a world. And, if you can, protect your work. I’d like that, because it is the translators themselves who do not evaluate and respect their work as they should and we end up… It’s not possible that someone else alone harms you. You somehow get along with it. There can be no downgrade unless you accede to it. Translation is a wonderful job. It deserves a much better position, but even as it is, it is still wonderful. I wish you to enjoy it.

Thank you very much for your time.

I thank you.