by Brother Anthony 안선재
(Published in Korean translation in the Korean monthly review Literature
& Thought 문학사상 2004. 3. pages
154 – 164)
The main concern of this discussion is to examine ways in
which Korean literature can become more fully part of the universal literary
community through translation. It may be good to begin in the opposite way,
with the problems facing the translation of non-Korean literature within Korea.
The British Council (영국문화원)
is the official organization for cultural exchanges, and from time to time they
bring well-known British writers to Korea; but often they have a problem
drawing an audience because almost no one here has heard of them. Their works
may be very popular and widely-read in Britain, and the English-speaking world,
yet none of their work has been translated into Korean. This creates a familiar
“Catch 22” situation. Korean publishers are not interested in younger foreign
authors’ works because the authors are unfamiliar in Korea and they feel that
they will not sell well. But they can only become familiar in Korea and sell
well if their works are translated, published, read and enjoyed. This does not
only mean that Korean readers in general are deprived of the enjoyment that
today’s world fiction offers. Since Korean writers are mostly not able to read
works written in English, they need translations in order to gain insight into
how the world’s writers are writing fiction or poetry today. If the translation
is skillfully done, they may then feel moved to write in similar or related
ways. Without good translations, cross-cultural fertilization or stimulation
cannot occur.
Of course, if a translation is badly done, and in Korea
it seems that many are very bad, the reader may not at all be able to
understand what is being said, and will certainly not be moved emotionally,
intellectually, or esthetically. Particularly, Korean writers will not be moved
to imitate badly translated models. Yet if Korean literature is written
entirely in isolation, uniquely for a Korean market, without any relationship
with what is being written in other parts of the world, it will tend to be
intensely “parochial,” and will not be likely to address themes and issues in
ways capable of interesting readers beyond its frontiers. There would then be
no point in translating it. The need for writers to develop their art of
writing in dialogue with their contemporaries across the globe is an essential
pre-condition for a more successful global diffusion and reception of modern
Korean writing.
Much of this sheds light on the problems arising in the
translation of Korean literature for the outside world, especially into
English. For example, because Korea and its literature are unfamiliar, major
British or American publishers are unwilling to publish Korean titles, since
they rightly fear that they may well not sell. Yet unless it is published and
enjoyed, how can Korean literature become familiar and gain a readership? The
four main questions are therefore: (1) What works should be translated? (2) Who
will translate them? (3) For what readership? (4) How are they to be published?
Put very bluntly, the problem is twofold. First, readers
in the English-speaking world at present know nothing of Korea and its
literature and feel no great curiosity about them; this is not limited to
Korea. The same holds true of Indonesia, the Philippines, Vietnam, and in fact
even of Italy and France. We might add that among the very few Americans who
read poetry, very few read the poetry being written (in English) in Britain,
Australia, or Canada. Koreans often feel slighted because they have the
impression that works written in China or Japan have obtained a far higher
profile in the international scene. This is in fact only marginally true; the
total number of Chinese or Japanese works translated and writers known is
minimal. But their “image” is certainly stronger.
Second is the undeniable fact that most of the literary
works being written and published in any one country and culture will not
appeal to people elsewhere, no matter how well they are translated. Most modern
British novels could never appeal to Korean readers. They simply were not
written with such a wide readership in mind. They will never be translated. So
far, most of the Korean works that have been translated have been translated
because they and their authors enjoy a high reputation in Korea, although
sometimes a translation is done only because a writer has a friend who offers
to translate. Yet the reasons why a work is admired in Korea may well not prove
valid in other cultures. That is not always clear to the Korean public or even
the translators. In particular, a lot of Korean writing evokes nationalistic
emotions, related to Korea’s recent history, that only Koreans can feel. Modern
Korean literature comprises a series of texts that were written under a variety
of particular, conditioning circumstances which strongly influenced and colored
all that was produced.
Since Korean readers bring intense emotional associations
ready-made to the least mention of the dramas of national history, Korean writers
feel no need to explain background or even make very explicit the events they
are referring to. Footnotes will never provide enough information to awaken the
same feelings in a non-Korean reading a translation. In addition, many short
stories and novels make quite harrowing reading. “Why is Korean literature so
depressing?” is a frequently asked question. It is hard to give a satisfying
answer. Yet Koreans value such works very highly, enjoy reading them, and
cannot easily believe that other countries’ readers will not share their
admiration, “if the work is properly translated.”
It was only in the later 1980s that Korea’s writers began
to explore zones of experience that are more directly familiar to non-Korean
readers. As wealth has increased, the Korean urban landscape has begun to look
less specifically Korean; high-rise apartment blocks have taken the place of
small houses. The solitude of the modern Korean, alienated by the anonymity of
life in the “concrete jungle,” is a major focus of contemporary women writers,
in particular, and it is surely no coincidence that stories of this kind are
both easier to translate and more accessible abroad. The main limitation to
such works, one not to be overcome by explanatory annotations, seems to me to
be the lack of what might be termed suspense, irony, wit, bite, or
sophistication in the construction of plot lines, characterization or
psychology, and narrative strategies. Very often, the Korean writer seems
content to narrate a familiar slice of daily life, in the course of which the
central, stereotyped character experiences painful emotions of alienation. Is
such writing really worth reading or translating?
This is a crucial and very delicate question. Who decides
which works are “worth translating” and by which criteria? Major publishers
usually commission or accept translations of books that they feel convinced
they can sell and would be prepared to promote; their primary criterion is
commercial viability. The funding agencies here in Korea have sometimes tried
to establish lists of “representative classics of Korean literature,” assuming
that what is officially admired inside the country is certain to attract
similar admiration in other countries once translated. The agencies have soon
given up trying to compose these lists, because every critic they have asked
has suggested different works, while those few people capable of translating
prefer to choose writers and works for reasons of their own. But on the whole,
the result is the same. Usually, works by older, well-established Korean
writers are chosen for translation. The fundamental idea in most cases, with
good will, is “I admire the work of this writer, I find it worth reading, and
by translating it I wish to make it available to readers who cannot understand
Korean.” This is admirable, but completely uncommercial.
Money does not come to the translator from the sales
after publication. If it comes at all, it usually comes from a sponsoring
foundation, and represents a much larger sum than any translator would ever
receive from a publisher, and is often paid before any contact is made with a
potential publisher. Once a contract has been signed, money is paid to the
publisher to support part of the costs. The support offered by the KLTI (한국문학번역원) and the Daesan Foundation (대산문화재단) to translators and publishers, designed to promote and
encourage the universal knowledge of Korean literature as an act of “cultural
diplomacy,” is generous; it is not necessarily beneficial. Their role is
promotion and as a result, quantity takes priority over quality, even with
serious initial and final screenings, since they need results in the form of
lists of projects they have assisted.
The main problem arises once the translation is complete.
The translator is responsible for finding a publisher. Since the goal is “global
outreach” the translated work should be published outside of Korea. This is the
point at which serious problems arise. First of all, no major commercial
publisher will consider manuscripts submitted by individuals. All submissions
must be made through recognized literary agents. Now, although Koreans do not
like to hear this, translated works of Korean literature have no commercial
viability. In addition, many translators prefer to translate poetry, especially
those working in English. Poetry in translation makes no money anywhere.
Failing to find any access to major publishers, the translator turns to
smaller, specialized presses or to academic presses with an interest in Asian
literature. The foundations offer a certain sum in publishing grants, but not
covering the full cost since they insist on believing that Korean literature
will sell well and make money for the happy publisher. There are a variety of
small publishers, often run by a single enthusiastic individual in their spare
time, that have accepted a number of Korean titles before realizing how much
money they are losing, and stopping. Therefore both the funding foundations now
have a considerable backlog of completed, sponsored translations that have not
been published, because the translators have given up hope of finding a
publisher after years of effort.
There is little that needs to be said about the
translator. The most important fact is that very few people are active. It
would be hard to list ten people who have published a significant number of
volumes of translations of Korean literature in any language, not just
English. Most of those who are translating Korean literature are doing so in
whatever spare time they have left after their main occupations. Almost all are
academics. The main problem is that in many cases translation is being done by
people, Koreans or “native speakers”, whose vocabulary and style in the target
language are simply not adequate. It is not easy to transfer into English words
written in Korean, given the immense differences between the two language
systems and cultures. The differences mean that the translator is bound to
operate in a far freer manner than when the languages are very similar. At the
same time, there is a need to make the specifics of Korean culture
comprehensible. Yet Korean academics and critics discussing translation often
insist that translations must be strictly ‘faithful’ to the original and scream
in horror at the very free forms of translation that are standard practice
worldwide.
Let me present my own activities as a translator briefly.
In poetry, I have translated five volumes by 고 은 Ko Un, four volumes of poems by 구 상 Ku
Sang, two volumes by 김 광규 Kim Kwang-kyu, one volume by 서 정주 Sŏ
Chŏng-ju, one volume by 천 상병 Ch’ŏn Sang-pyŏng, one volume by 신 경림 Shin
Kyŏng-nim, one volume containing poems by 김 수영 Kim Su-yŏng, 신 경림 Shin Kyŏng-nim and 이 시영 Lee
Si-Yŏng, one volume by 김 영무 Kim Yŏng-mu. In fiction, I have translated two novellas
by 이 어령
Lee O-yŏng, two novels by 이 문열 Yi Mun-yŏl, one novel by 고 은 Ko Ŭn. That is not quite all, but it
will do. In every case, I have been motivated by the feeling expressed above:
is “I admire the work of this writer, I find it worth reading, and by
translating it I wish to make it available to readers who cannot understand
Korean.”
Of all this, twelve volumes have been published, eleven
of them in the U.S. or the U.K. The nine other volumes have not yet been
published; only one, that has been complete for over ten years, has a signed
publication contract, two have not yet been offered to any foreign publisher;
the rest are at various stages of consideration by publishers. Four of the
volumes that have already been published did not receive a translation subsidy;
four of the volumes not yet published have not (as yet) been considered for a
subsidy. Eight of the volumes published are now out of print, except (in a few
cases) for reprints in a bilingual series published inside Korea.
The most important questions, of course, are those of
sales and reception: did each book sell well? Generally speaking, the answer is
No. One book, published by a small company in the U.S. as part of a new series
of Korean literature with support from the KLTI in 2002, has sold less than 50
copies in the 18 months since publication. One reason for such low sales is
that the publishers receiving support from KLTI are obliged to send free copies
to over 100 libraries and organizations with Korean studies programs. This
means that the institutions that would normally be the first to purchase their
books do not have to buy them! Another reason may be that no advertisements
have been placed in journals or papers with a general readership, because of
the cost no doubt. Very limited advertising has appeared in a small number of
academic journals, mostly related to Asian topics. In addition, no “review
copies” were sent out. This saves money, and ensures that no book reviews
appear. It must be confessed that even in cases where a number of review copies
have been sent out, no reviews have been published outside of specialized
Korean studies journals. It is generally true that “literature in translation”
has little chance of being reviewed in major literary journals.
By contrast, a translation of 이 문열 Yi
Mun-yŏl’s 시인 The Poet
was published in 1995 by The Harvill Press (London), the most reputed
specialized publisher of world literature in Britain. It was reviewed at length
in the Times Literary Supplement. This soon sold out in its original
hardback and paperback versions, a matter of several thousand volumes, and a
popular paperback version was published in 2001 for worldwide distribution, in
nearly double the number of copies. This is now unavailable and we must hope
for further reprints. Among my publications, this is only beaten by one volume,
which is now at the end of the 15th reprint of its second edition, a
matter of over 15,000 copies – the bilingual edition of the poems of 천 상병 Ch’ŏn
Sang-pyŏng, published and almost entirely sold inside Korea! A “steady
best-seller” indeed!
Usually, with the motivations expressed above, little or
no thought is given to the size of the potential readership by the agencies
eager for cultural diplomacy or translators wanting to give copies to their
friends. We are happy if a handful of foreign readers discover something unique
in what we translate. We do not have to bother about sales; but pity the poor
publishers! As already mentioned, since it is almost impossible to gain the
attention of major commercial publishers, or even of important university
presses, most translations of Korean literature have been published by small,
underfunded “non-profit” presses. Not to say “vanity presses.” If they are
lucky, they are able to get rid of the printed volumes within a few years,
especially if the author and translator buy good numbers to distribute to their
friends. Once such books are out of print, there can be no question of
reprinting since that would only be possible if there were new funding from the
foundations, and neither of them have any provision for funding reprinting.
Therefore, most translated Korean literature that has managed to get published
in the past is out of print and unobtainable after a few years, gone as though
it had never existed.
What of our potential real audience? It is hard to define
and may not exist at all. A first requirement is some kind of prior interest in
Korea. The children or grandchildren of Korean migrants, awakening to an
awareness of their ethnic identity but no longer able to read Korean easily if
at all, would be an obvious initial category. That is usually the nearest we
can come to the “general reader.” Of course individuals of all kinds sometimes
discover Korean literature with delight, often by chance or personal encounter.
Students of Korean literature in Asian Studies departments are supposed to read
Korean-language texts though they may be glad of help. Then scholars of
comparative literature sometimes may need translations of works that have been
of historical significance in the evolution of Korea’s literary history;
scholars of Asian history need to have access to fine translations of the major
texts of the Korean past. Neither of the last two groups will be much satisfied
with what most of us have chosen to translate.
What conclusions can be drawn? What suggestions made? The
most important point to be made is that in the English-speaking world,
translations from any language account for a remarkably small percentage of
books published, compared with the percentage in other, non-English-speaking
lands. This is one reason why it is so difficult to publish our translations in
the U.S. or the U.K.. There are simply so many people writing in English that
there is no room for and no need for translations. I recently received a letter
from Carcanet Press, the main publisher of poetry in Britain, in which they
write “Carcanet receives between 250 and 300 submissions and proposals every
month.” Of these, these are going to publish a handful, certainly not more than
3 or 4, sometimes none. This is the publishing reality in which we are trying
to find a space for our not always very powerful translations of not usually
very striking works. Their only specific claim is that they are from Korea.
Translators and funding agencies alike need to recognize
that in this situation, no matter how popular in Korea and how well translated,
Korean literature has little hope of finding a publisher, and making any
impression, especially in the English speaking world. There are two things that
can be done. First, we need to turn to the Internet. Internet publishing is now
the norm for a variety of works (scientific research papers, for example) that
previously went out in print but can no longer afford to do so. An Online
Library of Korean Literature in Translation offering free access to a large
number of translated texts in many languages needs to be established. In
particular, this could make available the large number of published
translations that have gone out of print. Scanning such books into PDF format
would not be difficult; the entire series of Korean UNESCO’s Korea Journal
is now available online, for example. In view of the difficulty we all have
finding a publisher, translators should also be given the option of having
their funded work published in this format.
If book-format, a physical volume printed, published and
hopefully sold outside of Korea, is the preferred format, the only realistic
solution will be for the two funding foundations to work together to establish
a non-profit publishing center of their own, with none of the financial demands
of a “normal” private publisher. This would arrange the printing and reprinting
of books, establish arrangements with existing distribution agencies across the
world, design and distribute attractive catalogues, send out review copies, and
set up stocks of published books for easy delivery at different points across
the globe. Of course, efforts would still be made to place translations with
regular publishers, but that is always a protracted process with limited
chances of success.
The second way in which contemporary Korean writing can
be given a worldwide audience is by sending the writers whose work has been
published out across the world to read and comment on their work, and to meet
in depth with writers and readers of other countries. For that, they should be
forced to learn a foreign language! Cultural diplomacy requires that degree of direct
contact, and not simply with groups of ethnic Koreans. Many American writers
are on the road several months each year, because the only time that people buy
their books is at the end of an evening’s reading. Sometimes not even then! It
is a very hard struggle, and pouring in money is less important than personal
commitment. That requires faith in the whole enterprise For no
translator could ever ask for a better encouragement than Allen Ginsberg’s
words in his preface to our translation of Ko Un’s Zen poems: “These excellent
translations are models useful to inspire American contemplative poets.” This
is an important statement, because of the prospect that a Korean poet’s work
published in translation could have a creative influence on American poets writing
in English: living poetry being read in lively ways by living poets.