Sarah Ardizzone March 28, 2014

How I translate children’s books

Sarah Ardizzone explains the complex art of translating books through this gallery of April the Red Goldfish

April the red goldfish: Cover — Titles are tricky for every writer. But especially for the translator, who has to produce something snappy and convincing in the book’s new language (English, in this case), while ferrying across as much of the verve and information from the original as humanly possible. So, a punning title is probably a translator’s worst nightmare.

Marjolaine Leray’s title looks deceptively simple to translate: the book is named after its protagonist, "April The Goldfish". But there is the small matter of the French referring to a goldfish as a "redfish". Not to mention the fact that the French for April’s fool is "April’s fish". So, just communicate all that, would you?

PS. Did I mention that "April" is a boy in the French? Just the small matter of our goldfish switching gender for her English incarnation, then. Photograph: PR

April the red goldfish: To be — I believe this is the first time, in my admittedly varied career as a translator, that I’ve been expected to render a Shakespeare quoting, pun-spouting, trans-gender goldfish with suicidal tendencies.

Here’s the rub. Hamlet’s most famous question would usually be translated into French as "Etre ou ne pas être?" But Marjolaine Leray wittily writes "Etre ou arrête?" – a visual pun on the verb to stop (arrêter) and the word for fishbone (arête). Which might explain why I chose to parachute in "picked over". (Although, I have to admit, my favourite freestyle translation here would be: "Oh that this too, too solid fish…" Translational, visual, punning heaven!) Photograph: PR

April the red goldfish: Aquaholics — Sometimes it's not what you lose in translation, but what you gain by adding in. Marjolaine Leray draws April’s parent on the left hiccupping: ‘cul sec!’ (Literally: dry bottom – for downing a drink in one.) Visually, this works exquisitely with the goldfish’s nether parts sticking up out of the water – and it chimes pleasingly with the English equivalent of ‘Bottoms up!’ But I almost prefer the English version now, where we chose to give the parent on the right something drink-related to say (in the French, they’re silent).

These variations between the English version and the original arise out of an intricate relationship with Marjolaine Leray as author-illustrator-creator. As our ideas ping across the Channel, she hand writes the English text (and then re-writes it, if we don’t feel the letters are clear enough for a young Anglophone readership) ahead of the book being physically born again in another language and another culture. Photograph: PR

April the red goldfish: Prawns — How free can a translation be? In the French, April staring through her goldfish bowl at a dodgy looking platter of parental sushi is captioned (literally): "Since then, they’ve moved on to other things". Or, more idiomatically, "they’ve moved on to pastures new." Except that pastures and fish don’t mix. Translator, beware! All roads lead to the mixed metaphor, unless you’re über-careful (see?).

But back to the parental sushi. I was conscious that "moving on to other things" is hardly the punchiest of captions. And so I decided to let Marjolaine’s drawing be my guide. After all, I am serving two masters here – the words and the visuals. If the former won’t bale me out, the latter just might. With "bitter taste" I wanted to emphasize both the shift from fish to fodder; and the cruel impact of bereavement on April, as she struggles in her search for meaning. Photograph: PR

April the red goldfish: Suicide — Whether 'tis Nobler in the mind to suffer/The Slings and Arrows of outrageous Fortune. Or to take Arms against the PC police? Parents, teachers, librarians, booksellers, publishers, the children themselves…? Who decides on what is or isn’t "appropriate" for young readers? The spectre of invisible gatekeepers is often mentioned in relation to children’s titles. But, as anyone who’s ever opened a Roald Dahl book, or blocked their ears in a pantomime, knows, a small person’s appetite for the gory, the gruesome and the frankly macabre is primordial. As is their capacity to find the hilarious in the grotesque.

Still, there are those who might argue that April The Red Goldfish should carry a recommendation of parental guidance, plus a warning "not to try this at home". Photograph: PR

April the red goldfish: Punk — Can you hear my audible sigh of relief? Sometimes, just for a nanosecond, a translator's life is easy! Photograph: PR

April the red goldfish: Hitch a ride — Across these two spreads I swashbuckled in translation as a creative act of writing, albeit with strict spatial constraints. Paradoxically, in response to those spatial constraints, I allowed myself free rein: on the basis that my task here is akin to that of an advertising creative, conjuring up a new caption to target an English audience. The French on the left hand spread reads (literally): He (remember, April’s a boy in the French) isn’t planning on setting off with someone; while the right hand spread reads: or on making an interior journey.

Again, I took the drawings as my starting point, re-imagined the captions, and in so doing caged a negative statement as a positive question. Photograph: PR

April the red goldfish: Aprils fool — Hurray! At last I’ve found my chance to sneak in the April's Fool reference. Here, the French reads: "and make him [the enemy] into his [April’s] pet animal." Out with pets and in with April’s fools, say I!

April the Red Goldfish is published by Phoenix Yard Books. It was originally published in French in 2013 under the title Avril Le Poisson Rouge. Written by Marjolaine Leray and translated by Sarah Ardizzone. Photograph: PR

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