Tuesday 29 November 2011

What's in a Title?

(Warning: the following post discusses the first of Henning Mankell's Kurt Wallander novels, and as such contains spoilers).

The translation of literature from one language to another is a fascinating subject, one that has been extensively discussed throughout the ages. Without getting into the ins and outs right now, the question over whether or not a translator can ever truly capture the original author's intent - or whether or not they can avoid injecting their own authorial voice - is one that may never be satisfactorily answered.

Translation can be tricky and divisive, having an effect on everything from the title on up. Alain-Fournier's superb Le Grand Meaulnes has been translated many times in English, with many different titles, amongst them The Lost Estate, The Lost Domain, The Wanderer, and The Magnificent Meaulnes; due to the difficulties involved in accurately capturing the intent of the original French, some translators have opted to simply retain the original French when publishing English-language versions. More famously, there is Marcel Proust's A la recherche du temps perdu, which has been presented as Remembrance of Things Past and In Search of Lost Time, with neither considered satisfactory by some scholars. And in this country only one of Stieg Larsson's Millenium novels has been published with a title that accurately reflects the original Swedish (which is a shame: the final part of the trilogy would have been called something very close to "The Castle Made Of Air That Was Blown Up," whereas the first part would have been aptly named "Men Who Hate Women").

The latter example is of particular interest, given that it involves the original title being tweaked to suit a different audience/to make more sense in a different language. The English title of Henning Mankell's first Kurt Wallander novel is Faceless Killers or (translated from the original Swedish) "murderers without faces." And in the end, the killers do indeed turn out to be "faceless," in that they were unknown to the victims. Which comes as a major surprise, because a) I didn't imagine for one minute that the title of the book would so comprehensively give away the ending (in crime fiction terms, it's roughly the equivalent of calling your novel The Butler Did It); and b) Wallander spends almost the entirety of the investigation focusing on Swedish nationals, despite the fact that before death, one of the victims repeats the word "foreign" several times.

If we take it as read that narrative convention dictates that you don't give away the ending at the start of the tale, and acknowledge that in no way is Faceless Killers intended to subvert this convention, then it seems a strange move. Throughout the novel, the reader is expecting the clue contained within the title and the last word to become clear, to be explained in a clever or even oblique fashion that ultimately makes perfect sense. But there's no deception, no sleight of hand; the title is accurate, and "foreign" is spoken unambiguously. The upshot of this is that Wallander wastes months of his time chasing red herrings because he was convinced that the level of brutality inflicted on the victims suggested that the murderers knew them, and were exacting some kind of revenge. One could argue that his failure to accept any other hypothesis was irresponsible, and possibly even negligible, seeing as how the killers could have struck again (and indeed, put in the groundwork in an attempt to do so). One could even argue that the author cheats, giving the game away early doors and then spending the bulk of the novel insisting that all is not as it seems, when the opposite turns out to be true.

In many ways, Mankell should be applauded for telling an unconventional tale, one where the guilty party isn't an individual the reader is introduced to who turns out to have something to hide; the effect is that the story seems more grounded in real life. But as a crime fiction fan, I don't want the solution to be staring me in the face from the cover of the book. Faceless Killers would have been much more successful with an evocative title rather than a descriptive one. Sometimes, even faithful translation can be problematic.

Sunday 20 November 2011

- Saw Stephen Malkmus and the Jicks at the refurbished Ritz last week. Whilst I enjoyed them, the set was perhaps a little too focused on new material. I'm a big fan of Mirror Traffic, and I fully understand why artists don't want to play songs from albums they've already toured to death, but performing nothing from Pig Lib was a little disappointing to me (it's probably my favourite of his solo records). Still, "Church On White" was a lovely way to end the evening. Helping make the evening great: Girls, who have blossomed into a fantastic band. Whether or not a support band should play for over an hour is open to debate, though, no matter how good they may be. The venue, which was characterful back when I was underage drinking there at the start of the 21st century (characterful being shorthand for "a scuzzy little dump"), looks good, although having to pay £4 for even the worst of alcoholic beverages may well deter me from attending in the future.

- Also saw The Future, a couple of days afterwards. So far, I have failed to write anything about it, but it definitely had a big effect on me, and I'll be trying to get some words down at some point. It's run at the Cornerhouse was ludicrously brief, given that they showed Submarine for what seemed like years, and will probably do the same with We Need To Talk About Kevin. Yawn.

- Posted the first part of my coverage of the X-Men relaunch over at Onward, Manchester, with more to come next week (quite a bit more, actually, as I'm well behind at the moment). The two flagship titles, Wolverine and the X-Men and Uncanny X-Men, are far and away the pick of the bunch. Which is as it should be, although some of the other titles haven't impressed me, and I'm already considering dropping a couple.

- Very disappointed to learn that Peter Hook and the Light have been performing Closer. What a massive hypocrite he is. Actual quote from Hook, following the souring of relations between him and Bernard Sumner: "New Order without Peter Hook is like Queen without Freddie Mercury." And Joy Division without Ian Curtis is a massive waste of time, so why bother?

Friday 11 November 2011

On Comments Off

On Thursday, the other half of Onward, Manchester posted Comments Off, wading into the debate about online abuse on comments boards. In part, this piece was prompted by our own experiences; more specifically, mine. You see, I've recently been writing a series entitled Tales of a Go-Nowhere Indie Band, a true account of my time spent playing music. In part three, I wrote the following:

"Months later, after I had finally quit the band, I had a habit of bumping into the guy who had helped engineer the session, and every time he would tell me how much he hated our lead guitarist's vocals."

My ex-bandmates discovered these pieces, and presumably the aforementioned line upset them (nothing else stands out as particularly inflammatory), prompting a mini-backlash of sorts. I included the line because it added colour; whether or not that was a mistake is, I suppose, debatable; however, given that it was an accurate retelling of events I had every right to use it. What followed was a couple of attacks: the first was a negative comment left using a pseudonym that was easy to see through because the email address it was sent from contained the real name of the person in question (not to mention their IP address); the second was an attempt at intimidation by pretending to be someone from our shared past.

The incidents, as you might expect, left a sour taste. And yet I still would not choose to join the ranks of those advocating the elimination of comments boards altogether. Such forums do serve a purpose, and can be used to foster positive and constructive conversation and debate. It's difficult to even make a convincing argument for greater accountability and regulation; how on earth would one go about regulating free speech? It can't be done without entering into dangerous territory concerning what can and cannot be said. Fortunately, most people know how to self-regulate, and understand the difference between acceptable and unacceptable online behaviour.

Of course, adopting this stance leaves anyone who wants to publish their work in the not-too-pleasant position of having to endure whatever misguided, asinine, or threatening things people bearing grudges or different opinions may send their way. Recently, Helen Lewis Hasteley and a number of other female bloggers have been writing thoughtfully and intelligently about how truly abhorrent and repulsive commenters can be; indeed, the abuse they have had levelled at them serves to highlight how minor the slights I suffered were. Even more so considering that my tale has a happy ending. A couple of weeks ago, I was sat three rows behind the aforementioned individuals at an Adam Buxton show, during which the comic relentlessly took the piss out of people who spend their time posting negative comments on the Internet whilst hiding behind anonymous usernames.

I can't imagine they enjoyed his performance half as much as I did.

Monday 7 November 2011

- Park Chan-wook's Thirst is a fascinating film for a variety of reasons, chief among which is its unabashed willingness to laugh at itself. Or possibly because of the fact that it isn't aware it is being laughed at; the tone is confused to say the least. What starts as a religious melodrama descends into farce no more or less ridiculous than Twilight. If the intention is to parody and/or satirise the conventions of vampire stories, then the film is an unqualified success. If, however, the director was playing things straight, then Thirst is a spectacular failure. Either way, it is certainly worth watching.

- Another thing I did yesterday: plough through Avengers Disassembled, having had the sudden urge to reread it. Hyperbolic statement warning: these comics probably did as much damage to the industry as the shift of power from writer to artist in the early 1990s. They convinced both Marvel and DC that the way forward was blockbuster event after blockbuster event, with the need to a grandiose line-wide storyline every summer trumping any artistic considerations. Avengers Disassembled is successful on some counts, but much of it is dreadful. After a decent part one, the remainder is defined by any number of interminable conversation scenes. It's like Brian Michael Bendis thought to himself "wow, that first chapter was action-packed! Better slow the pace down from hereon in." And so things grind to a halt. Part three is particularly poor, from Hawkeye's oft-mocked death to the damp squib of a cliffhanger, although the biggest failure is the way Brian Michael Bendis simply tells the reader the Scarlet Witch is the villain, rather than revealing it. Masterful storytelling it is not.

- On a related note, over at Onward, Manchester I've posted My Life in Comicbooks, charting my appreciation of the artform from its origins to the modern day. It includes cartoons, pilgrimage, and murder!

Sunday 6 November 2011

- Out of nowhere, I'm eagerly anticipating Miranda July's The Future, despite the fact that I am decidedly not a fan of her work. Indeed, the much-loved No One Belongs Here More Than You strikes me as one of the worst things I've abandoned reading at any point over the last decade. Pointless, plotless, and with nothing to say, each short story seems designed to convey a sense of profundity in an attempt to mask the vacuousness of it all. Peter Bradshaw's review of The Future and another piece published in The Guardian acknowledge the traits that jar with my own creative preferences and sensibilities, whilst also making reasonably compelling cases for why her latest is worth watching. So I'll be watching it, safe in the knowledge that even if I don't enjoy it, I'll enjoy not enjoying it.

- On Looping State Of Mind, The Field has raised the bar once again. Listening to it back-to-back with From Here We Go Sublime, the progression from album one to album three is staggering (and Sublime is a solid eight-and-a-half out of ten). What makes it even better: Kompakt's dedication to the vinyl format. 2 LPs and a free CD? Don't mind if I do.

- I'm working on a couple of pieces for Onward, Manchester about the X-Men relaunch. Can't say anything I've read so far has blown me away, but issue #1s are a notoriously difficult beast, and I'm enough of a fan to persist.

Wednesday 2 November 2011

The Unheralded Return of Breathe On Deep

Well, that was a rather prolonged absence, wasn't it? Almost 12 whole months, in fact. Sorry about that.

I have been busy, though, what with settling into the world of full-time employment and launching Onward, Manchester (which was nominated for Best New Blog in this year's Manchester Blog Awards), and working on other things besides. But why can't there be room for more than one blog in my life? So from hereon in, expect to see Breathe On Deep become a vehicle for my various thoughts and musings; a personal blog, in a manner of speaking. But without any of the handwringing that often implies.

Also coming soon (hopefully): the unheralded return of Sifting Through The Madness!