The translator twitterverse exploded last Friday after the Los Angeles Review of Books published Magdalena Edwards’ incendiary article about a translation gone awry, “Benjamin Moser and the Smallest Woman in the World.” An insider’s account of her experiences working with Benjamin Moser and New Directions as the translator of Clarice Lispector’s The Chandelier, Edwards’ narrative paints a grim picture of what would otherwise seem like a stellar project—to work on a previously untranslated novel by an internationally renowned writer, as part of a well-received series put out by a prestigious publisher. As Edwards relates it, a cordial long-distance acquaintance formed with series editor Benjamin Moser over their shared interest in Lispector, Elizabeth Bishop, and translation was a prelude to being asked to take on the project in 2015. Things quickly turned sour, however, after Edwards sent her draft translation to Moser in the summer of 2017. “The truth is that Moser tried to get me fired, arguing that my completed manuscript was not up to snuff, that my level of Portuguese was insufficient, and that he would have to rewrite every line of my translation. What happened?” she asks, drawing us into the messy tale that follows.
Her account is a rare instance of a translator parting the curtains to reveal behind-the-scenes dealings with an editor and a publisher over a contested translation. While Edwards goes on to make a larger argument against Moser, giving instances of his borrowing from the work of others, almost all women, without giving credit, I’m especially attuned to the “wrongs” of this particular translation project and wondered what conditions made such a situation possible. Based on Edwards’ account and my own reading between the lines, I understand the following: Yes, there was a contract, and it was strictly between the translator and New Directions. No, it had no provisions setting the terms of the working relationship between the translator and the outside series editor, who appears to have been given carte blanche in overseeing the series. No, there were apparently no revisions made to the contract to reflect the fact that the outside series editor (Moser), not the publisher (New Directions), would deem the manuscript acceptable or not. No, there were apparently no specific provisions about what an acceptable translation would be, giving the publisher, or rather, in this exceptional case, the outside series editor, lots of wriggle room. Barbara Epler of New Directions seems to have deferred to Moser’s judgment in offering Edwards a “kill fee” i.e., thank you for your trouble, good-bye. But before offering the kill fee—something not in the contract and improvised by the publisher as a way out— did Epler ask Moser for some justification? Was any outside reader asked to look over the translation and weigh in? Or was it simply a matter of Moser’s word and his steamrolling vision of how Lispector had to read in English?
After experiencing typical translator shame (“I was flustered and apologetic”) after Moser trashed her translation and Epler sent her an email with the offer of the kill fee, Edwards wisely consulted a lawyer and began to push back hard against the steamroll.
So yes, there’s a legal side to this, and Edwards’ informed resistance most likely kept her from being completely erased on the title page upon the book’s publication. In the end, Edwards was credited as “co-translator,” with Moser’s name first (they’re not even in alphabetical order). I see it as a perverse kind of credit, a non-thanks for her work, to be joined there with the person who wanted her kicked off the project.
Pure speculation: if Edwards had agreed to such an absurdity as a kill fee, what would have happened next? Would Moser have in truth retranslated every line of the original, starting from scratch? Or would he have leaned on Edwards’ existing translation? The second half of Edwards’ article makes the latter seem plausible.
If there was any doubt about Moser’s overstepping his role as editor, consider the bio-note he submitted to the New York Times to run with his review of Kate Briggs’ This Little Art. Since his takedown review attracted unusual interest among translators, many noticed that he’d given himself full credit for translating The Chandelier and hastened to alert the New York Times via Twitter, myself among them. (The Times quickly corrected it, as Edwards notes).
By way of comparison, I recall another multi-volume project that involved several translators working under a series editor to translate a single author: the massive retranslation of Proust’s À la recherche du temps perdu/In Search of Lost Time. In her “Note on the Translation,” Lydia Davis, who retranslated Swann’s Way, depicts a radically different working atmosphere for the crew of Proust translators:
“At the initial meeting of the Penguin Classics project, those present had acknowledged that a degree of heterogeneity across the volumes was inevitable and perhaps even desirable, and that philosophical differences would exist among the translators. As they proceeded, therefore, the translators worked fairly independently, and decided for themselves how close their translations should be to the original—how many liberties, for instance, might be taken with the sanctity of Proust’s long sentences. And Christopher Prendergast [the series editor], as he reviewed all the translations, kept his editorial hand relatively light.” (emphasis mine) Swann’s Way, xxi-xxii.
It’s true that no two translation series are alike, and for sure no two editors are alike, but as a translator it was profoundly disturbing to read Edwards’ account. In a brave move, she stopped being a “nice girl” going along with the flow and stood up to the bully in this scathing public indictment. One wonders if there will be any response.
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