the english version of ferrante's neapolitan quartet uses the expression "dissolving boundaries" to translate the anxious terror that has traversed lila's life. it's an interesting translation, i can see where it goes right and where it goes wrong. the italian word that ferrante uses in the original text is "smarginatura". the basic meaning is the same: the initial "s-" is a negative prefix (essentially indicating we are to assume the opposite of what follows); "margin-" is the root of a word we can translate as "boundary" or "limit"; finally "-tura" is a suffix, usually attached to verbs to indicate the noun representing the action that the verb describes. the combined result spells out something like: "the opposite of an action related to margins". so, yes, "dissolving boundaries". however there are some important differences in the nuances underlying the two versions of the expression.
to start, in italian we see one word only and, as far as i can tell, a neologism (the word itself exists in a completely different context; the verb "smarginare" is also used but it's rather obscure; still its regular meaning - to wander out of bounds - is a possible precedent from which a similar interpretation could be extracted). the specific, electric creativity of lila's mind is on display in this choice: this is not the graceful wreathing of two appropriate terms, picked from their shelves and arranged neatly to convey a meaning that fits into the exact space between them. it's a disordered burst of brilliance, the fabrication not merely of a new word for an old concept but of a new concept altogether. she is not coloring into existing margins, she is trying to draw herself the margins around an experience that feels boundless, around the very experience of boundlessness. there is no word in lila's vocabulary that can accurately describe this and, therefore, no precedent taxonomy or theorisation she can borrow: like for most things in her life, she resorts to invention.
and still we get a sense it's not enough. "smarginatura" is a fairly inelegant word to hear in italian, almost cacophonic. it sounds a bit like a term a child would make up or someone with a poor grasp on grammar. it does not necessarily reflect reality (as i said "smarginare" as a verb does exist) but without deeper research, the instinctive impact is that of a jumbled word, a pastiche created by glueing together bits and pieces of conversations. it does not provide a scientific anatomy of lila's symptoms, but a jet of arresting impressions.
lila is not stupid nor illiterate so i don't think the stridency of the word in the context of the italian language is a coincidence. she was, indeed, little more than a child when she experienced "smarginatura" for the first time and italian is, after all, only one of her languages. it sits beside her native neapolitan dialect and it's the language she studies, more than the one she lives. italian is generally rigid regarding neologisms and new constructions, with very little leeway allowed for experimental divergence before falling into plain unsightly error. neapolitan is a bit more malleable. part of this comes from it being less formalised due to its exclusion from the spaces of dominant culture: this makes it a living language, walking houses and streets and mutating closer to them. neapolitan is also an independent language: nothing about it is instrinsically second-rate. but there is a definite class-based association in italy that paints it as a lowbrow derivative of the one true mother tongue. for ferrante, dialect is often the language of feelings but also of irrationality, of the untractable violence that permeates the world. italian, on the other hand, is the language of order and logic: it can mean detachment but also the structure taming reality into shape (for better or for worse). "smarginatura" is not a neapolitan word, it's an italian neologism. but its originality and clumsiness are not perfectly centred in the paradigms of italian, they feel out of place. the form of the word reflects the trouble with its contents. the coinage of "smarginatura" is lila's attempt at the impossible feat of creating a container for the feeling of the uncontainable, of expressing through organised language an experience that defies reason and communication. the strict rationality of existing italian words struggles to take a hold of the flood, the water slips and evades them. a new term is dreamt, which tries to draw from the pulsating plasticity of the neapolitan dialect while being processed through the ordering structure of italian grammar. the result is effective only because it's ineffective. there is no way to close the lid on what lila describes. to understand it, we need a word that's bursting at the seams.
the strife "smarginatura" impresses, the not-quite-rightness of it, the sense of rupture, are not quite present in the translation "dissolving boundaries". it's not a wrong translation, it does not misrepresent the essential core of the events lila narrates. but, as a summary of them, the connotations are all wrong. dissolution evokes a restful act if not necessarily a peaceful one. a surrender. a gradual thaw, a waning, a slumber. even phonetically, it sounds soft and letargic: a protracted, sibilating breath, a full yawn, a slow final crawl. "smarginatura" is a violent jolt. it's the bullet the wound the earthquake. when objects melt into each other they don't dissolve: they leak they drip they fuse they invade. a liquefying mass of cancerous magma simmering boiling and erupting. the word cannot contain the feeling, it's distrupted by it. it goes out of phase. reality rips and shakes and upturns. it does not gently fade or unravel. it convulses. it vibrates out of focus. the "s" at the beginning of the word is a much harsher sound compared to the "ss" in dissolving. a buzz more than a whistle. the "m" continues the humming, a ominous build up. the "a" is a sudden, sharp opening. a chasm. a stretching void. then "r", teeth chattering, and "g" "i" "n" "a", a quick bitter yanking, flesh-rending. and finally "t" "u" "r" "a" the last roar of thunder. the disappearance of confines is only one aspect of the equation. "smarginatura" as a process does not pertain only to boundaries: it concerns what is within and what is without. the inside falling out, the outside pushing in. limits disappear not because they spontaneously vanish, but because they get colored over, they are broken, they were never there. through one word, born out of the instinctive reach of lila's brilliant child mind, we are able to grasp the fragmented nucleus of this concept, if not quite to pin it down.
this post is not meant as criticism. all language, in every language, has irreducible elements that cannot bridge the transformation to new sounds and contexts. translating is always creating anew and there is no begrudging the attempt at it. but sometimes commentary can make up for a small segment of the loss. i just put to you a tiny offering to access something of the original text, from the (surely partial) impressions of a native speaker.
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