Brutal Betrayers and Their Evil Translations: The Willful Reshapings of Kinbote and Conmal
p. 255-264
Entrées d’index
Keywords : Nabokov, translation, Pale Fire, Eugene Onegin, literalism, betrayal
Texte intégral
It is indeed wonderful how indifferent most critics are to the amount of unwillful deceit going on in the translation trade. (Nabokov 1966: 243)
1I am hardly the first to remark on the parallels between Vladimir Nabokov’s Pale Fire and his monumental translation of and commentary on Alexander Pushkin’s Evgenij Onegin1 or to suggest that Nabokov’s work on Pushkin’s novel in verse may have served as a source for Nabokov’s own novel.2 First, there is their contiguity: Nabokov began writing Pale Fire in 1960, midway through the six-year lag between the completion of his Eugene Onegin in 1957 and its publication in 1964. Second, there is their comparable structure of foreword, poem, commentary, and index. This structural similarity appears all the more striking in the revised, abridged, paperback version of Nabokov’s Onegin, which consists of only two volumes: the first containing the foreword and the translation; and the second the commentary. Thus, the reader can easily imagine approaching the translation and its commentary in the manner Charles Kinbote suggests for reading John Shade’s poem and his, Kinbote’s, commentary, that is, with the volumes “placed in adjacent positions on a comfortable table” (Nabokov 1989: 28).
2Most examinations of the relationship between the two works have focused on the critical practice of annotation and the larger practice of literary criticism of which it is part, reading Pale Fire as a satire, “a comic nightmare of all that could go wrong in criticism” (Boyd 1999: 68), wherein “Kinbote acts out in comical literal form all the perennial perversions of the critical mind: the critic’s desire to appropriate the text, to insinuate himself into it, to make it say what he would like it to say, to thrust himself between text and reader” (Boyd 1991: 450). Some scholars further argue that Nabokov parodies himself and his work on Onegin in the novel, “indulging in light self-mockery” in the character of Kinbote and his commentary (Hyde 1977: 185). However, as Alter asserts, “Pale Fire is of course both a satire and a parody, but to see it only as that is drastically to reduce its real scope” (Alter 1975: 185). Alter goes on to identify “the theme of translation” as “one of the conceptual keys of the novel” (Alter 1975: 204), but never links discussions or examples of translation in the novel to Nabokov’s statements on or practices of translation. Trubikhina does explore how Pale Fire may be seen to relate to Nabokov’s method of translating Onegin, but not with respect to Nabokov’s stated practice of “literal translation.” Rather, she focuses on Pale Fire’s relationship to what she terms Nabokov’s “allegorical” or “metonymical” translation of Pushkin’s novel:
Nabokov’s idiosyncratic translation is […] related to the original by spatial contiguity rather than complete identification with it. […] On the one hand, the literal translation itself functions as a scholarly source for exact quotes. And the entire text of Onegin becomes one giant quotation. Meanwhile, the commentary paradoxically takes on the function of a translation and becomes in English what Pushkin’s text is supposed to be in Russian. (Trubikhina 2008: 57)
3She further claims “The Commentary and Index in Pale Fire parody this metonymical mode of translation by distorting it through a comic and tragic mirror and turning it into its opposite, the metaphorical: translation becomes appropriation since everything can be substituted for everything else” (ibid).3
4In contrast, I argue that Pale Fire serves not as self-parody of Nabokov’s own translational practices, but as a defense of the controversial theory of literal translation that he employed in translating Onegin by depicting the ills of other types of translation. I demonstrate that the novel’s target is not first and foremost Kinbote, as parody of the commentator-critic-translator gone awry, but rather his uncle, Conmal, the Zemblan translator of Shakespeare. That is not to say that Kinbote’s actions as commentator escape critique. However, as I show, his offense is not that which is often attributed to him, namely that he is a thief who has stolen the poem, both literally in his fleeing with Shade’s manuscript and figuratively in his commentary’s appropriation of the poem’s content, but rather that, like Conmal, he is not a literal interpreter or translator. Reading the novel in this manner allows for a new appraisal of the passage from Shakespeare’s Timon of Athens from which the poem and the novel take their titles and of the theme of thievery contained therein. In keeping with Nabokov’s ideal of literal translation, what one discovers is that, where translation and artistic creation are concerned it is not thievery but betrayal, particularly in the form of mistranslation, that is the true, “fantastic farrago of evil” (Nabokov 1989: 16).
5Nabokov offers a succinct description of his notion of literal translation in his foreword to Onegin: “rendering, as closely as the associative and syntactical capacities of another language allow, the exact contextual meaning of the original. Only this is true translation” (Pushkin 1964 I: viii). Yet Nabokov began to advance his idea of literal translation well before the completion of his translation of Onegin and thus prior to his writing of Pale Fire. In his essay, “Problems of Translation: Onegin in English,” which appeared in the Partisan Review in 1955, he defines “literalism” (a term he uses interchangeably with “literality,” “literal interpretation” and “literal translation”) as “absolute accuracy” (Nabokov 1992: 140). The translator “has only one duty to perform […] to reproduce with absolute exactitude the whole text, and nothing but the text” (Nabokov 1992: 134). To do so when translating a text in verse, one must sacrifice rhyme to reason. Nabokov therefore famously advocates for the use of footnotes to compensate for what the translator must forgo:
I want translations with copious footnotes, footnotes reaching up like skyscrapers to the top of this or that page so as to leave only the gleam of one textual line between commentary and eternity. I want such footnotes in the absolutely literal sense, with no emasculation and no padding. (Nabokov 1992: 143)
6Despite Kinbote’s characterization of footnotes as “the rogue’s galleries of words” (Nabokov 1989: 260) and despite the ease with which one may take Kinbote’s own notes to be the height of parody of those that reach to the sky, footnotes are an essential tool for the literal translator or interpreter.4 Thus Kinbote’s use of them in the novel cannot and does not in and of itself serve as a satire of literalism or of Nabokov’s commentary to Onegin.
7That is not to say that Kinbote engages in literalism when he comments on Shade’s poem. Rather, his interpretation falls into one of the two other categories of “attempts to render a poem in another language” (Pushkin 1964 I: vii) against which Nabokov sets the literal—the lexical and the paraphrastic—neither of which he deems true translation. Kinbote’s interpretation of Shade’s poem may be viewed as lexical for it concerns itself with the meaning of a word, but not of the word in its context per se. As Nabokov makes clear in his definition quoted above, literal translation is characterized precisely by its rendering of “the exact contextual meaning of the original” (my italics) and thus a lexical translation or interpretation is at best insufficient and at worst useless. In a sense, Kinbote’s commentary takes the lexical to the extreme, not simply interpreting the poem’s words out of context but instead offering an alternate context within which to understand them. Nabokov’s primary complaint of a lexical approach is that it requires no particular talent or skill. He remarks that “a machine can do [it] under the direction of an intelligent bilinguist”5 (Pushkin 1964 I: viii). Clearly, Kinbote is an inadequate interpreter of Shade’s poem and his notes do not serve the same purpose as those of a literal translation. His failures as an interpreter pale however in comparison to those of Conmal.
8While Nabokov is merely dismissive of lexical attempts to render a poem in another language, he roundly denounces the final category—the paraphrastic—which
offer[s] a free version of the original, with omissions and additions prompted by the exigencies of form, the conventions attributed to the consumer, and the translator’s ignorance. Some paraphrases may possess the charm of stylish diction and idiomatic conciseness, but no scholar should succumb to stylishness and no reader be fooled by it. (Pushkin 1964 I: vii-viii)
9Nabokov focuses particular attention on the problems of the paraphrastic approach in his essay, “The Servile Path,” in which he discusses the influence of Byron in Pushkin’s Onegin. He argues that since Pushkin read Byron and other English-language authors in French translations, his knowledge of their work is perforce mediated by their translators, or as Nabokov puts it, “the stupendous exertions of French paraphrasts” (Nabokov 1959: 97). In the case of Byron, that paraphrast is Amédée Pichot (1795-1877), who translated Byron’s complete works into French (1819-1821).
10Nabokov takes his primary example of Pichot’s faulty, paraphrastic translation (and its effect on Pushkin’s own verse) from Canto One, stanza XLVII, of Onegin:
The stanza echoes thematically Canto Two, XXIV, of Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage; but Pushkin’s line 4 about “the gay glass of the waters” which “does not reflect Diana’s face” (supplanting the “Dian’s wave-reflected sphere” of Byron) is a cliché due to Pichot’s wretched version “… le disque de Diane qui se réfléchit dans le miroir [!] de l’océan.” Thus a paraphrast, while betraying one poet, misleads another. (Nabokov in Pushkin 1964 II: 100)
11I assert that Pichot appears in fictional form in Pale Fire as Conmal, “the great translator of Shakespeare” into Zemblan (Nabokov 1989: 75-76). The novel links the two directly, albeit subtly, when Kinbote informs the reader that “when Conmal began his stupendous task [of translating Shakespeare’s works] no English author was available in Zemblan except Jane de Faun […] and some fragments of Byron translated from French versions” (Nabokov 1989: 286). As Conmal’s very name—a combination of “con” (“with” in Spanish) and “mal” (“evil” in both Spanish and French)—suggests, it is he who betrays Shakespeare in his translation of him and in turn misleads Kinbote in his interpretation of Shade’s poem.6 Meyer also calls attention to Conmal’s name and his association with “the theme of bad translation” (Meyer 1988: 72). She first notes that “Conmal does a poor job of conning Shakespeare’s text” (ibid.). She then argues that while the derivation of Conmal’s name “is, on the surface, easily accessible […] it also masks an allusion to MacPherson’s poorly conned name derivations” (ibid.), linking Conmal to James MacPherson (1736-1796), the Scottish poet who published what he claimed were translations of the 3rd-centry Gaelic poet, Ossian, that were later discovered to be frauds. Nabokov takes up the issue of the authenticity of MacPherson’s Ossian poems both in his commentary to Onegin and in his commentary to another of his translations from Russian to English, The Song of Igor’s Campaign, a work itself embroiled in debates as to its authenticity.7
12Of particular interest to this discussion is how Nabokov frames his considerations of The Song of Igor’s Campaign’s authenticity and of MacPherson’s Ossian poems’ inauthenticity: “Nabokov resolves the issue of the authenticity of the Igor tale by his assessment of the author’s unquestionable artistic genius; he judges MacPherson’s forgeries, by contrast, to be lacking in balance, vivid detail, linguistic authenticity, or historical verifiability” (Meyer 1988: 72). Moreover, Nabokov characterizes MacPherson’s “famous fraud” as
a mass of more or less rhythmic, primitively worded English prose, which can be easily translated into French, German, or Russian. The recitative coagulates here and there into short iambic lines with tetrameter-trimeter alternations of the ballad type in some passages […] but this, of course, was lost in the French paraphrastic prose that popularized Ossian on the Continent. (Nabokov in Pushkin 1964 II: 254)
13Yet again, we discover a paraphrast at work, in this case Pierre Letourneur (1736-1788), who translated the Ossian poems into French. Letourneur also penned his own betrayal of Shakespeare: Shakespeare traduit de l’anglais (1776-1783), a 20-volume, “paraphrastic prose” translation of Shakespeare’s works into French, thus extending the connection between Conmal and MacPherson to one between Conmal and Letourneur as well.
14Indeed, Conmal exemplifies the greatest evil that Nabokov attributes to the paraphrast: ignorance, in this case that of the language from which he translates. His knowledge of English is questionable to say the least: his so-called mastery of the language on his own results “mainly [from] learning a lexicon by heart” (Nabokov 1989: 285); on his one and only trip to London “he could not understand the language” (286); and his last words are “Comment dit-on ‘mourir’ en anglais?” (285). Lest the reader still not recognize the type of translator that he is, the entry for Conmal in the Index clearly identifies him as a “noble paraphrast” (Nabokov 1989: 306).8
15Conmal’s paraphrastic translation of lines 439-443 of Act Four, Scene Three of Shakespeare’s Timon of Athens and Kinbote’s retranslation of it serve in many respects as the focal point of Pale Fire. Shakespeare’s lines read:
The sun’s a thief, and with his great attraction
Robs the vast sea; the moon’s an arrant thief,
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun;
The sea’s a thief, whose liquid surge resolves
The moon into salt tears. (Shakespeare 2008: 4.3.439-434)
16Many scholars have commented on how the passage’s theme of universal thievery and specifically the image of a stolen reflection relate to the novel—for example, Lyons argues that it explains the relationship of art to reality (Lyons 1967: 243) and Tammi that it serves as “a metadescription of the themes occurring on each principal plane of the novel” (Tammi 1995: 577). Moreover, much is made of the fact that Shade and Nabokov have “purloin[ed] another’s phrase” (Boyd 1999: 33) for the title of their respective works.9 Yet, again, Nabokov’s remarks in the commentary to Onegin about Pushkin’s own borrowings or “thefts” signal that these acts of thievery in Pale Fire are not of great consequence nor are they the novel’s central concern:
17Some rude prying into Pushkin’s workshop is inevitable, nor can one help being surprised at a great man’s stealing from lesser men; but a knowledge of the period and place yields an obvious answer to those who would try to draw too strict a line between imitation and emulation. There is also Pushkin’s sportive temperament to be reckoned with. To the parallelist as to the moralist he might retort in the manner of a famous epistle by his favorite André Chénier […]:
A bumptious judge, scanning my works, denounces
All of a sudden, with loud cries, a score
Of passages, from so and so translated:
He names their author, and on finding them,
Admires himself, pleased with his learning.
Why
Does he not come to me? To him I’ll show
A thousand thefts of mine he may not know. (Nabokov 1959: 109)
18Nabokov’s remarks support Boyd’s conclusion that, in the “purloining” of Timon’s words in Pale Fire, “Nabokov steals from his speech to express not Timon’s contempt for universal thievery but [Nabokov’s] own vision of an unfathomable creative generosity behind our origins and ends” (Boyd 1999: 246).
19What is of greater importance than their subject matter, I assert, is the fact that Shakespeare’s lines never appear in the novel in their original form. The reader has only Kinbote’s retranslation of them from Zemblan to English that he has made “for the purpose of quick citation” (Nabokov 1989: 80):
The sun is a thief: she lures the sea
and robs it. The moon is a thief:
he steals his silvery light from the sun.
The sea is a thief: it dissolves the moon. (Nabokov 1989: 79-80)
20Kinbote’s rendering of the lines, and by extension Conmal’s, is without a doubt a mistranslation. Alter describes Kinbote’s version as
a model of the lower limits of translation. Some literal sense of the imagery is preserved […] but this crude, flat-footed version destroys the dancing music of the verse, the emotional coloring of the language, the dramatized mystery of interplay among heavenly and earthly bodies—in short, the poetry of the passage. (Alter 1975: 207)
21While Alter’s assessment may be correct, Nabokov’s theory of literal translation suggests that the primary issue with Kinbote’s rendering is his stated aim in translating it: “to sufficiently approximate the text, or … at least [be] faithful to its spirit” (Nabokov 1989: 80, my italics). Here, like his uncle Conmal, he engages in paraphrase and cannot possibly produce a true translation.
22And like Pichot, it is Conmal who is to blame for the initial betrayal, here of Shakespeare’s text, for in addition to all of his flaws as a translator enumerated above, Conmal has committed the worse offense of all: he has translated Shakespeare’s text into a “Zemblan poetical version” (Nabokov 1989: 80). In retranslating it into English, Kinbote reveals what Nabokov calls in his Commentary to Onegin “the unintentional insults and injuries that the rhyming paraphrast inflicts on an innocent and unprotected text” (Nabokov in Pushkin 1964 III: 184). Here is the offense the novel underscores: not the borrowing or stealing from other writers, but a lack of faithfulness to or betrayal of one’s sources in interpreting or translating them. Nabokov does not fault Pushkin for echoing another, nor does the novel admonish Kinbote for doing so. Instead, it illustrates how a mistranslation betrays and misleads.10
23As I have demonstrated, Pale Fire critiques what Nabokov deems false forms of translation—the paraphrastic and the lexical—by proffering cautionary examples of practitioners of each. In “Problems of Translation: Onegin in English,” Nabokov declares: “the term ‘literal translation’ is tautological since anything but that is not truly a translation but an imitation, an adaptation or a parody” (Nabokov 1959: 134). Indeed, the very opening lines of Shade’s poem highlight the great harm imitations posing as translations can cause, and thus render the poem a strong criticism of false translations, that is, those that are not literal, as deceitful copies:
I was the shadow of the waxwing slain
By the false azure in the windowpane;
I was the smudge of ashen fluff—and I
Lived on, flew on, in the reflected sky. (Nabokov 1989: 33)
24The waxwing is slain because it mistakes the reflected, false azure for the real azure. Similarly, a false translation—a paraphrase, an adaptation, an imitation, or a parody—takes the life of its text. This is because the act of translation is inherently refractive, that is, it distorts. A literal translation recognizes the distortive nature of translation and does not attempt to pass itself off as an unaltered reflection of the source text. Instead, in a literal translation, and here I give Nabokov the last word, “shorn of its primary verbal existence, the original text will not be able to soar and to sing; but it can be very nicely dissected and mounted, and scientifically studied in all its organic details” (Nabokov 1959: 135).
Bibliographie
Corpus
NABOKOV Vladimir, 1989, Pale Fire, New York, Vintage.
PUSHKIN Aleksandr, 1964. Eugene Onegin: A Novel in Verse, translated by Vladimir Nabokov. Reprint: 2 vol., Princeton, Princeton UP, 1990.
SHAKESPEARE William, 2008, Timon of Athens, edited by Anthony B. Dawson and Gretchen E. Minton, London, Arden Shakespeare.
References
ALTER Robert, 1975, Partial Magic: The Novel as a Self-Conscious Genre, Berkeley and Los Angeles, University of California Press.
BOYD Brian, 1991, Vladimir Nabokov: The American Years, Princeton, Princeton UP.
BOYD Brian, 1999, Nabokov’s Pale Fire: The Magic of Artistic Discovery, Princeton, Princeton UP.
BROWN Clarence, 1967, « Nabokov’s Pushkin and Nabokov’s Nabokov », DEMBO L.S. (éd.), Nabokov: The Man and His Work, Madison, University of Wisconsin Press, p. 195-208.
DOLININ Alexander, 1995, « Eugene Onegin », ALEXANDROV Vladimir (éd.), The Garland Companion to Vladimir Nabokov, New York, Garland Publishing Inc., p. 117-130.
HYDE G.M, 1977, Vladimir Nabokov: America’s Russian Novelist, London, Marion Boyars.
JOHNSON D. Barton, 1971, « Nabokov’s Ada and Puškin’s Eugene Onegin », The Slavic and East European Journal, vol. 15, no 3, p. 316-323.
LYONS John O., 1967, « Pale Fire and the Fine Art of Annotation », Wisconsin Studies in Contemporary Literature, vol. 8, no 2, p. 242-249.
MEYER Priscilla, 1987. « Etymology and Heraldry: Nabokov’s Zemblan Translations (A bot on the Nabokov Escutcheon) », Texas Studies in Literature and Language, vol. 29, no 4, p. 432-441.
MEYER Priscilla, 1988, « Igor, Ossian, and Kinbote: Nabokov’s Nonfiction as Reference Library », Slavic Review, vol. 47, no 1, p. 68-75.
NABOKOV Vladimir, 1959, « The Servile Path », BROWER Reuben (éd.), On Translation, Cambridge, Harvard UP, p. 97-110.
NABOKOV Vladimir, 1992, « Problems of Translation: Onegin in English », SCHULTE Rainer et BIGUENET John (éd.), Theories of Translation, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, p. 127-143.
ROSENGRANT Roy Judson, 1994, « Nabokov, Onegin, and the Theory of Translation », Slavic and East European Journal, vol. 38, no 1, p. 13-32.
TAMMI Pekka, « Pale Fire », ALEXANDROV Vladimir (éd.), The Garland Companion to Vladimir Nabokov, New York, Garland Publishing Inc., p. 571-586.
TRUBIKHINA Julia, 2008, « The Metaphysical ‘Affinity of the Unlike’: Strategies of Nabokov’s Literalism », Intertexts, vol. 12, no 1, p. 55-72.
WELD Sara Pankenier, 2013, « Nabokov’s Northern Kingdoms: Pseudo-Scandinavian Traces and the Transnational Translation of the Self », Scando-Slavica, vol. 59, no 2, p. 185-206.
Notes de bas de page
1 About Nabokov’s commentary, see Paul G. Grant’s article in this volume (note of the editors).
2 See, for example: Lyons 1967; Brown 1967; Johnson 1971; Dolinin 1995; Tammi 1995; Boyd 1999; and Trubikhina 2008.
3 Reading Pale Fire as a parody of Nabokov’s commentary to Onegin ultimately leads Trubikhina to claim that “just as Kinbote’s Commentary is not reliable, Nabokov’s Commentary should not be trusted. It serves too many purposes at once: it is a serious philological study; it serves the less serious purpose of self-parody; and it settles scores with critics, literary enemies—past and present—and former friends” (Trubikhina 2008: 63).
4 As Rosengrant notes in his discussion of Nabokov’s translation of Onegin, “Either the translator will have to jettison a great deal along the way (the unavoidable practice in verse renderings made to stand on their own) or he will have to provide some sort of compensatory apparatus—a massive scholarly and linguistic commentary, for example—in order to ensure the carrying over into the second language of as much as possible of the original text and context. And if he opts for that apparatus, then he will properly have to include everything in it, for everything, from the most objective and general fact to the most subjective and personal opinion, conceivably has a bearing on the text as he reads it, his traditional replicatory role as translator now hypertrophied to that of circumstantial intellectual (auto)biographer and exuberant literary anatomist of almost Promethean scale and ambition” (Rosengrant 1994: 16).
5 Hence, it is not surprising that Kinbote praises “those wonderful new translating machines that can do it so much faster than a man or an animal” (Nabokov 1989: 281).
6 Conmal’s macaronic name is in keeping with the Zemblan language as a whole. As Meyer notes, one of the features of the Zemblan language is that it is “composed of Slavic and Germanic roots often combined within a single word” (Meyer 1987: 433). An even harsher assessment of Conmal’s activities may be found in his name if one stays within a single language, French, in which “con” translates as “asshole.” In contrast, and in support of my central claim that it is Conmal, not Kinbote, who is the novel’s most brutal betrayer, Meyer offers the following etymology of Kinbote’s name: “In Old Icelandic bot means (1) a bettering, a remedy, (2) atonement, compensation, especially in the sense of manboetr, or weregeld, that is, compensation for a murdered man. […] The name Kin-bote should therefore be read as ‘the payment, atonement, compensation for the murder of a relative’” (Meyer 1987: 438). No such positive valence can be found in the name Con-mal.
7 For a comprehensive analysis of the links between The Song of Igor’s Campaign and Pale Fire see Meyer 1988.
8 Sybil Shade is also a paraphrast, having produced rhyming translations of Marvell and Donne in French. Kinbote devotes three pages of his commentary to chronicling the “blurrings and blunders” she has committed (Nabokov 1989: 241).
9 Weld convincingly argues for the centrality of the theme of forgery in Nabokov’s oeuvre as a whole and focuses specifically on how forgery relates to his “creation and counterfeiting of northern kingdoms,” of which Zembla is one example (Weld 2013: 187). Moreover, she directly equates forgery and plagiarism with betrayal in her discussion of how, at the end of Glory, “Martin’s initial imaginings about Zoorlandia have become a work of art, or fiction, though not in Martin’s hand”: “The invented northern kingdom, which began as an intimate imaginative exercise between two individuals, here reveals an act of betrayal by Martin’s love interest and the plagiarism of her lover. This Zoorlandia is then, in some sense, a forgery—one illuminated oddly by an intruder’s imagination” (Weld 2013: 191). Finally, she views “translation, interpretation,” and “inspired forgery” as “deeply related arts” for Nabokov (Weld 2013: 201).
10 Similarly, misprints also mislead, as seen in the misprint of “mountain” for “fountain” in the magazine story of Mrs. Z.’s account of “The Land Beyond the Veil” that misleads Shade to believe that someone else has had the same experience of the afterlife that he has had (Nabokov 1989: 60-62). Kinbote links this misprint to translation in his notes: “Translators of Shade’s poem are bound to have trouble with the transformation, at one stroke, of ‘mountain’ into ‘fountain’: it cannot be rendered into French or German, or Russian, or Zemblan; so the translator will have to put it into one of those footnotes that are the rogue’s galleries of words” (Nabokov 1989: 260).
Auteur
Le texte seul est utilisable sous licence Licence OpenEdition Books. Les autres éléments (illustrations, fichiers annexes importés) sont « Tous droits réservés », sauf mention contraire.
Pour une interdisciplinarité réciproque
Recherches actuelles en traductologie
Marie-Alice Belle et Alvaro Echeverri (dir.)
2017
Le double en traduction ou l’(impossible ?) entre-deux. Volume 1
Michaël Mariaule et Corinne Wecksteen (dir.)
2011
Le double en traduction ou l’(impossible ?) entre-deux. Volume 2
Michaël Mariaule et Corinne Wecksteen (dir.)
2012
La traduction dans les cultures plurilingues
Francis Mus, Karen Vandemeulebroucke, Lieven D’Hulst et al. (dir.)
2011
La tierce main
Le discours rapporté dans les traductions françaises de Fielding au XVIIIe siècle
Kristiina Taivalkoski-Shilov
2006
Sociologie de la traduction
La science-fiction américaine dans l’espace culturel français des années 1950
Jean-Marc Gouanvic
1999
