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AS WE consider the issues surrounding literature in translation, the first question that comes to mind is quite simply whether or not literature should be taught in translation. I, for one, used to argue against it. I believed that teaching literature in translation would diminish students' motivation for learning another language. I was convinced that foreign language professors should teach only in the foreign language. Anything else was a compromise, I thought—a kind of betrayal. In fact, I suspected that my colleagues who taught literature in translation did so because they were not sufficiently proficient in their foreign language.
In the 1960s and 1970s there seemed to be no good reason to teach literature in translation. We had a four-semester requirement and more students than we knew what to do with. We could point with pride to the fact that at the end of the two-year sequence, our French students, for instance, were able to read and discuss L'étranger in French. This is still true today. We could also cite our reading-knowledge courses, in which graduate students actually learn to read sophisticated literature in their own disciplines in one semester. Some of these students rank at the top of the scale on placement exams—after, as I said, only one semester of Study. It involves a great deal of hard work, yet what could be more rewarding or exciting than having the key that unlocks the treasure troves of another culture?
Times have changed, however. We have lost our two-year requirement, and I have altered my opinion about literature in translation, and not only because of the hardships we have experienced. My new perspective has come primarily as a result of teaching literature in translation myself. I am now convinced that all foreign language faculty members who can—that is, those that have the requisite English proficiency and training in literature—should teach literature in translation.
Of course, I still do everything in my power to convince people that literature should be read in the original language. The last time I tried to do so, however, my argument backfired. I was on a committee planning an interdisciplinary graduate program, and—in an attempt to persuade a colleague, who happened to be a Semitic scholar, to back the inclusion of a foreign language component in the degree requirements—I argued that the foreign language texts in the curriculum should be read in the original. He, whom I had imagined to be an ally, shot back that if that were the case, no one would read the Bible. This gave me pause. I was undoubtedly right—texts should be read in the original language, whenever possible; yet he was right, too—they cannot always be. Most foreign language instructors would have agreed with me, I believe, except perhaps those teaching ancient languages, like my colleague, or those teaching languages with low enrollments or rarely taught non-Western languages. They may have accepted a fact that we continue to try to deny—texts cannot always be read in the original language.
Shouldn't people read the Bible or the Iliad or The Divine Comedy or War and Peace, even if they can't do so in the original? Obviously they should, and our acknowledgment of this point in no way undermines our efforts in advocating foreign language studies. The advantages that derive from having reading knowledge of a second or third language are many and can easily be demonstrated. We need not fear that reading in translation will diminish the motivation to read texts in the original language. Quite the contrary—students are often drawn to study other languages and cultures because of what they have read in translation.
Clearly, some literature must be taught in translation—if only the Bible. The next question is, by whom? I argue that it should be taught by the experts, as in every other academic discipline. And we are those experts. We are the ones who should be teaching literature in translation, although the task has often fallen to English professors. French professors should be teaching French literature, whether in French or in translation. The same goes for Spanish professors, Russian professors, German professors, and all other modern language faculty members whose training is in literature. Why? Because we have the expertise. It is as simple as that. I think it is crucial for foreign language faculty members to see and understand this. In fact, I believe that we have paid a steep price for not clearly and unequivocally staking out this territory as our own. Let me enumerate some of the ways in which I think we have suffered because of our reluctance to teach literature in translation.
1. Although most of us do indeed have degrees in literature, we are not perceived as literature professors. We are thought of solely as language professors. There is nothing wrong with being a language professor, just as there is nothing wrong with teaching English composition. We all love language; I certainly do, and I regularly teach it at all levels. But no one thinks of English professors solely as composition teachers, unless writing is indeed their specialty. It should be the same with us. I took three language courses in graduate school, two of them in Old French. None of my research is in the area of language usage or acquisition. Why should I be identified as a language professor? In a recent issue of Lingua Franca , thirteen scholars and critics were asked to share their favorite works of neglected fiction, old and new. Not one of them was a modern language professor, and only Frank Lentricchia, identified as a professor of literature, cited works not originally written in English (see Perlstein). All the world seems to think that only English professors teach literature and only English literature counts. These perceptions must be changed.
2. Because we have been reluctant to teach literature in translation, it has often been taught, as we have seen, in the English department, frequently by those who have no background in comparative literature. What has been the result? Works in translation are usually addenda to reading lists dominated by works originally written in English. What is worse, these works are inevitably taught from an Anglocentric perspective. From what other perspective could, or should, English professors teach them? A distinguished colleague recently stated, in an article in the ADE Bulletin , that when teaching literature in translation, English faculty members almost cease to notice that the works were written in “‘foreign’ tongues” (Gossett 34). And we get the impression that this somehow is thought to be a good thing, a mark of acceptance or assimilation. Do we really want literature in translation taught by people who think that the fact that works were written in foreign tongues, as my colleague put it, is simply a detail that at some point one may cease noticing?
When we teach literature in translation, we invariably teach it from the perspective of the culture in question. I have discovered that students are quick to notice the difference. Students in literature-in-translation classes tell me that they love to hear me talk about other cultures. I do it in a way that almost always surprises them, because it destroys their stereotypes and prejudices instead of ignoring them or reinforcing them.
I might add that in my department both native and nonnative speakers teach these courses. As might he expected, some native speakers are unwilling or unable to teach literature in translation, but those that do seem to relish the chance to reach new audiences. For faculty members teaching languages with small enrollments, these courses offer a golden opportunity to teach literature and not only language.
3. Because most of us have lost the traditional two-year language requirement and we do not participate in any of the other general education requirements in a significant way, many departments are struggling for Survival. We were always marginalized as the “foreign” component of the curriculum, but at least our courses were required. Now that they are no longer required, we are further marginalized, despite current multicultural sensitivities. The sobering fact is that we will never be major players, even in the multicultural initiatives in our institutions, if we teach only in foreign languages. If we participate in the general education requirements by teaching literature in translation, however, we will certainly strengthen our position.
What I am advocating is that we take part in the main-stream intellectual life of our university communities by teaching literature in translation, without in any way compromising our commitment to foreign language instruction or to our majors and graduate programs. Most universities have some sort of literature requirement; together with the English department, comparative literature, and classics, we should share that requirement. In my view, doing so would have many beneficial effects.
1. These courses would be taught by those who have dedicated their professional lives to the study of the literature in question, as well as the language and culture from which the literature emerged. In these offerings, our perspective is that of an insider and of an outsider, with the advantages of both points of view. Our language skills and our familiarity with the original texts also enable us to view the translations themselves critically and point out any errors or discrepancies to our students.
2. In a time of shrinking numbers in some languages, we can benefit from the guaranteed enrollments of required literature courses. We can retain faculty lines and even increase their number by arguing that our expertise is indeed needed for these core offerings.
3. We can take part in many of the exciting initiatives in our institutions. Literature in translation has a prominent role to play in freshman seminars, capstone courses, linked sections, writing-intensive courses, honors offerings, and women's studies classes, to name a few. Area studies often have both a foreign language requirement and a literature component we could teach. We must not disdain these opportunities out of some ill-conceived notion of fidelity to the cause of foreign language study.
4. There are also many intellectual rewards. Few endeavors are as demanding as foreign language instruction, whether the focus be linguistic, cultural, or literary; nevertheless, the foreign language professor enjoys a mastery in the classroom that most of our colleagues in other disciplines do not experience. We mediate to our students what is often totally unfamiliar; and, no matter how bright they are, they rarely have the knowledge or the linguistic skills to challenge us. The stimulation of literature-in-translation classes is akin to that of a class composed of native speakers, with the difference that the literature being studied is indeed “foreign” for the students. These classes are lively and engaging, unencumbered by linguistic limitations.
The intellectual rewards also come from the fact that there is usually more freedom to offer new courses in this context than in the major, where the curriculum is more closely regulated. We design our literature-in-translation offerings within certain broad parameters. The rubrics are masterpieces, authors, genres, film, and comparative literature. We teach everything—from Polish masterpieces to the Islamic literary tradition—everything, that is, except literature originally written in English. I regularly teach a course on French existentialism for the core and another on contemporary continental drama.
There is, as well, more freedom to experiment with new methodologies in the core and more institutional encouragement for doing so, including workshops, financial support, and time off. I have found writing-intensive sections particularly challenging and rewarding, and I am now applying, in my courses for majors, some of the techniques I learned to use for these classes—and I am doing so with great success, I might add.
Finally, among the intellectual rewards of teaching literature in translation, we must cite the knowledge that for many students in colleges with no foreign language requirements, the literature in translation taught by us will be the students' only introduction to other cultures from the inside, rather than from the outside.
At my institution we have struggled mightily to be identified as a language and literature department. One of the first things I did when I was chair was to change the name of our department from Modern Languages to Modern Languages and Literatures. It is worth noting that before giving her approval for the name change, the then academic vice president asked the English department if its members approved.
It is primarily through our literature-in-translation offerings that our identity as a literature department has been established among our colleagues. Because we are willing to teach in English, we have become major players in interdisciplinary initiatives on campus. We participate in women's studies, the honors program, black world studies, Catholic studies, and writing across the curriculum, primarily through our literature-in-translation courses. Latin American studies, Asian studies, and international studies have both language and literature components, which we teach. We team-teach and do class linking in our offerings taught in English.
I cannot overstate the importance of participation in institutional initiatives. Our perspectives are quite simply unique in the American academy. The heightened multi-cultural interest in the United States is invariably shaped within an anglophone context. It is because our context is not anglophone that our perspectives are unique, yet we must be willing to operate within the mainstream in order to influence our colleagues, some of whom have never studied a foreign language, and in order to reach a broader spectrum of students, especially in universities with the minimal language requirements that are the norm these days.
My work on the committee that designed the interdisciplinary graduate program alluded to above is a case in point. The committee's task was to articulate goals and objectives and to develop two core courses for the program. I was one of three humanists on the committee and the only Europeanist. We had many struggles, but the most intense resulted from my resistance to the conscious and unconscious totalizing tendencies of both the anglophone perspective and social scientific methodology. I also encountered a pronounced inclination among some of my colleagues to dismiss Europe entirely. Needless to say, I could not let this happen, particularly when the dismissal was advocated, almost perversely, in the interest of diversity. It was apparent to all of us that the curriculum we developed would have been much different had I not been on the committee.
Finally, it should be noted that we have kept alive some of our major programs with low enrollments by permitting the use of English in upper-level literature and culture courses, in order to attract students from other departments.
We have gained much because we also teach in English, but not as much as we would like. Competition for students among our three literature departments—English, modern languages and literatures, and classics—is stiff, and we still don't get our share of enrollments. Our core courses are sometimes undersubscribed. The primary reason is, of course, that despite our best efforts, most students still think of the English department as the literature department. But there are other reasons as well. Students at my university must take two writing classes in the English department as prerequisites to their three required literature courses. If nothing else, inertia keeps them in the English department for their literature requirement. We are also not helped by the fact that, in any given semester, the English department typically offers forty-five or more sections, to our fifteen and the classics department's seventeen. Ideally, the number of English offerings would be limited, to permit a more even distribution of students in all sections, but this is not likely to happen voluntarily. Some intervention by the dean would be required. Enrollments still mean jobs, and although we perceive the English department as a behemoth with twice the number of tenured faculty members we have and five required courses, for some unfathomable reason its members also feel insecure and sometimes lack the generosity that should accompany prosperity. Yet we often cooperate and, until recently, they regularly invited us to teach theory courses, again in English, for their doctoral program.
TO conclude, I would say that in a typical year most of the faculty members in my department teach language, literature in translation, and either graduate classes or classes in the major. I think I can speak for my colleagues when I say that often the literature-in-translation courses are the most enjoyable and the most rewarding.
The author is Associate Professor of Romance Languages in the Department of Modern Languages and Literatures at Loyola University, Chicago. This article is based on her presentation at ADFL Seminar West, 26–28 June 1997, in Colorado Springs, Colorado.
Gossett, Suzanne. “Reimaging English Departments: What Is Our Future?” ADE Bulletin 108 (1994): 34–37. [Show Article]
Perlstein, Rick. “Breakthrough Books.” Lingua Franca June–July 1997: 14–16.
© 1998 by the Association of Departments of Foreign Languages. All Rights Reserved.
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