Two nations divided by...

Lynne Patrick

I had a disconcerting reading experience last week. Sorry; that phrase – reading experience – sounds like marketing-ese, which is a language I’ve always gone to some trouble to avoid speaking, but I don’t know how else to describe it.

Let me begin by saying that I read a lot of American fiction. Which is to say, fiction written by American authors. Some of it is in the original American edition, either because the author doesn’t have a separate British publisher, or more enjoyably, because I bought it during a visit to America. I even have two copies of the same Jack Reacher, with different titles, because I didn’t realize they were the same till I arrived home.

And I like to think I speak pretty good American when the occasion arises. On our recent visit a couple of months ago husband was moved to comment with a smile, ‘You just said that in American,’ when I asked the hotel housekeeper for some fresh washcloths. In the UK I’d have asked the chambermaid for some fresh flannels, but that would have taken a bit of explaining to her US equivalent.

Which is really what lies at the heart of my disconcerting experience. I was reading one of the small library of books I picked up at the Tattered Cover bookstore in Denver back in May: an early title by an author whose work I discovered a few months ago. She’s a British author, and her books, at least the ones I’ve read, are set in Britain and have British characters, though it turns out they’ve become popular in the US – possibly more so than at home, since blazed across the front cover was the tag NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER.

It didn’t take me long to realize that the copy I’d found was the American edition. And it had been translated.

Many years ago I had a conversation with an author friend whose debut novel had just sold to an American publisher; he talked about his American editor as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I was pretty green in those days, and couldn’t quite understand why a book written in plain English needed an American editor; my friend patiently explained that words like ‘tanner’ and ‘bob’ would be a mystery to readers across the water (the book was set in the 1950s, before decimal coinage came in over here), so some minor changes would be needed to make it user-friendly.

And yes, OK, I could see the potential difficulty. These days even ‘sixpence’ and ‘shilling’ are a foreign language to anyone under forty, and even then (it was a long time ago) their corresponding slang terms would have been confusing.

But to return to the present issue: the American edition I was reading had been adjusted for rather more than a few outdated slang terms. It had been well and truly translated. Taps had become faucets; handbags were now purses; car parks were parking lots, and in one bizarre case a ring road had become a beltway. These are just a few examples; by the end of the first chapter I had begun to wonder if the entire narrative had been relocated.

As I said several paragraphs ago, I read a lot of American fiction, and I do buy books in the US, but since I live in the UK, most of what I read is in the British edition. And now I’m wondering if it’s me or the books: do I simply not notice that an American book has been British-ized? Or do American authors’ British editors feel it’s unnecessary to go to such great lengths to ensure a book is comprehensible to a (slightly) different audience?

And if the latter is the case – isn’t it just a little patronizing to American readers to assume that a British author’s work would need to be translated so thoroughly?

Dead Guy has a lot of American followers, not to mention six contributors. Someone out there must have a view on this. Me, I’m just confused. And disconcerted.

Comments

[Jeff Cohen]

Lynne, many years ago I was asked to "edit" a novel being brought from the U.K. to the U.S. and was told specifically to look for any words that might be "confusing" to the American reader. And I confess, I did the job because I needed the money. This was a book aimed at children, who might truly have been confused, but it's still a question of economics--I think publishers believe a book will sell better in the States if it is less challenging to local readers.

[Kristopher]

Lynne, I feel your pain. I have taken to ordering the UK edition of many books by my favorite authors. This has as much to do with obtaining them well before the US release as it does with reading them in their purest form.

I get why some things need to be translated (as you point out), but I just don't know why every British-ism needs to be "corrected." And "corrected" is an intentional term as I think in many cases the American publisher thinks the book is better when Americanized (that just my own supposition, not empirical fact.)

In any case, I don't see them translating Downton Abbey or other tv/movies, so I think Americans can understand what is happening except in extreme cases.

Leave the books alone!

[Lynne Patrick]

Less challenging, fine, Jeff. But where does less challenging end and misleading begin?

[Lynne Patrick]

Exactly my point, Kristopher. Thank you.
That's one for and one against. Any more takers?

[Erin]

I will never ever understand why an American publisher can't just include a glossary to prevent confusion or provide clarification...or even footnote terms that are key to the story or recur enough to require explanation. The best examples I've seen recently are "red top" and "pudding." Both of these mean (very) different things in American, and in the books I'm thinking of, they needed to be explained so as not to pull the reader out of the story. In one case there was a glossary and in the other it wasn't translated or explained.

So I guess I fall somewhere in the middle. I don't favor wholesale translation, but I do think some words need some kind of explanation.

[Lynne Patrick]

Now I need to find out what 'red top' means in American! The problem works both ways!
But yes, I think you've hit the nail on the head, Erin. Moderation in all things.

[Meriel Patrick]

I had the opposite experience recently - I read an Anglicized version of an American YA novel. It was... strange. I knew perfectly well that an American teenager wouldn't be talking about (for example) knickers, so it jarred. But I was quite grateful for the parenthetical explanation of what corn dogs were (deep fried battered hot dogs, if you're interested) - it wasn't a major plot point, but I did wonder.

[Lynne Patrick]

And on that note, I rest my case, m'lud! Sometimes it gets just plain silly. It's not as if Brit girls don't know what panties are, for goodness sake!
It was exactly this kind of jarring note that provoked my post in the first place.