Too good not to share..."Found in Translation"

As I was perusing the op-ed section of the New York Times in search of a suitable piece for the rhetorical analysis, I came across this gem! Granted, I haven't read any of Mr. Cunningham's works, so I have no idea if the application of his philosophy works in his fiction. (Frankly, this article has inspired me to make a quick trip to the Cobb County Library this afternoon...as if I don't have enough to read already!)

Here is the article in its entirety:

Found in Translation- Michael Cunningham

The idea of translation has baffled me for some time, primarily as a result of my own limited experiences with the Spanish language. In an effort to gain some fluency and better comprehension skills, I started watching some of my favorite television shows and movies in Spanish. Since my ears weren't quite skilled enough, I gave myself a bit of a crutch to lean on: Spanish subtitles. As I slowly learned to keep up, I was surprised to find that the words spoken in the voice overs were not the same as those scrolling across the bottom of the screen. I guess I really hadn't grasped the concept of translation; there is more than one way to express a similar sentiment, after all. My own translating skills were hindered by an irrepressible urge to translate word for word, rather than thought for thought, thus making it difficult for me to imagine any flexibility between meaning and phrasing.


Cunningham takes this concept, familiar to second language learners everywhere, and then suggests that we must engage in the act of translation to put our own thoughts into language. (Oh, the horror! I don't have a Caitlin-English dictionary...) If you are of the belief that language precedes thought, this is an especially sticky idea. But regardless of their philosophy, hasn't every writer suffered that same feeling of alienated bewilderment when faced with the daunting prospect of putting his or her spirit in ink? Even if you manage to find the "right" words, they don't always convey that something special, that je ne sais quoi. And if we as composers feel that our work is somehow foreign, then imagine the reader! (Which is, of course, what Cunningham suggests that we do.)

I could go on gushing over this piece for quite some time, but I'll spare you. After all, this text will conjure up your own metaphors and memories, just as Crime and Punishment was a completely different text for both Cunningham and "Helen."