The following interviewed was conducted in September 2015 by Julian Maddison with the world-famous translator, Anthea Bell, who passed away in October 2018.
| Anthea Bell – the interviewee | Julian Maddison – the interviewer |
J.M. Before speaking about Asterix specifically, do you have a general philosophy regarding how to approach translation and the role of the translator?
A.B. Yes, quite a simple one: I aim to make a translation sound as if it had been written and indeed thought in English in the first place. That puts me in the now unfashionable school of the so-called invisible translator. One is always trying to find the right voice for an author – to become the author as far as possible during translation. It’s a performance skill, like acting, a metaphor often used for translation.
J.M. The first Asterix books in English came out in 1969, eight years after the first album in French and three years after Asterix had become a major success in France. Were you aware of Asterix before you were approached for a translation?
A.B. Yes, in fact I first saw an Asterix album in the Hockridge family’s house. Derek and his wife Dilys had children the same age as my husband’s and mine; they were all at the same school. Derek, a lecturer in French at Leicester Polytechnic, now part of De Montfort University, had an album in the house and showed it to me. My first reaction was that the bande dessinée wasn’t really my kind of thing – then I began reading, and saw at once how funny Asterix was.
J.M. Having agreed to take on the translation did you read all the French albums released up to that point before you started to translate the first album Asterix the Gaul?
A.B. In retrospect, I’m not quite sure, but certainly there was consultation with Brockhampton Press, as the children’s book branch of Hodder & Stoughton was then called, about the albums to be translated first. Obviously we had to begin with Asterix the Gaul. Then came some chosen for general appeal: Asterix and Cleopatra, because of the Taylor & Burton movie, Asterix the Gladiator, to familiarize readers with the Roman theme, and not long after that Asterix in Britain, always likely to be a hit in the UK. Le tour de Gaule d’Astérix (Asterix and the Banquet), quite early in the French chronology of the series, was left waiting for an English version for some time because of all the local French food specialties. But it is here that Idéfix/Dogmatix first appears, dogging (forgive me) our heroes, until Obelix notices his new friend and turns to pat him. English-speaking readers, as a result, first meet the little dog in Cleopatra, when Obelix is training him to retrieve menhirs in the wintry village.
J.M. Please explain how you came to be asked to translate Asterix.
A.B. Brockhampton Press, as mentioned above, had brought me to Leicester, where its managing director lived, after my husband Antony Kamm became chief editor of the imprint. I’d already translated several children’s books from French and German for Brockhampton, and was asked if, with Derek, I would like to have a shot at Asterix. This was ten years after the first album publication of the series began in France, and three English-language publishers had already turned it down, considering the puns and wordplay untranslatable.
J.M. How did the collaboration with Derek Hockridge work?
A.B. The idea was (a) that in a translation as unusual as a bande dessinée full of verbal wit, two people discussing things are better than one, and (b) that Derek as a teacher of French would supply all the topical knowledge necessary, while I would concentrate on the actual English translation. Sad to say, Derek died a couple of years ago after being ill for some time.
J.M. Presumably you were working from published albums originally. More recently, so that the English version can be released the same time as the French original, I understand you work from the typescript of the text without seeing the images. Does this hinder the translation process in any way?
A.B. Certainly it was easier to translate from printed French albums. But I’ve never had to do without images entirely. In the later stories both written and drawn by Albert Uderzo, at least the penultimate pencil drawings turned up in time for a final revision. In the first two from the new team of Jean-Yves Ferri and Didier Conrad, I have received the pencil drawings at the same time as the typescript. I don’t see the color until publication. And with this album, a new speech bubble was yet to come. I made a note of its wording for Bryony Clark, who puts in all the English-language lettering with the clever computerized alphabet that she invented several years ago.
J.M. When you were faced with the first album to translate, various decisions had to be made regarding how this and future albums would be handled. Can you talk us through some of those decisions?
A.B. First and foremost the line to be adopted over the proper names had to be decided. As you know, only a few are genuine – Julius Caesar, Brutus, Cleopatra. Most are ingenious adaptations of French phrases in the original, ending in –us for Romans and –ix for Gauls, by analogy with the historical chieftain Vercingetorix. Because of the difference between noun and adjective order in the two languages, it is not easy to invent ingenious compounds in English, but instead we have (for Roman names) many adjectives ending –ous in English that can be used, often jettisoning the “o” in the group of letters. Thus we get a Roman called Nefarius Purpus, for instance. And the village bard, who is Assurancetourix in French (comprehensive insurance) becomes Cacofonix in English because of the dreadful cacophony when he plays and sings. Sometimes a gift turns up: two little Roman legionaries, in a one-off appearance, become in English Sendervictorius and Appianglorius, names derived from the first verse of the British national anthem. That was in Asterix the Gladiator. At last, decades later, I’ve had a chance to go to the national anthem again. Confoundtheirpolitix, the English name for French Doublepolémix, the Assange-like character, journalist and political activist, comes from the second verse, in which God is requested to come down hard on the monarch’s enemies – “Confound their politics, / Frustrate their knavish tricks.”
J.M. One of the reasons for the success of Asterix is that it can be read on different levels. Was this quality evident from the beginning and something you consciously kept – or even enhanced – in the English versions or did this come automatically just from translating the original?
A.B. The aim has always been to reflect the French by deliberately working in humor on different levels. But it has to come naturally; it was years before it became possible to use the old gag, “The slaves are revolting,” so that Caesar could respond to the bearer of bad news, “And so are you.” That’s one for kids of eight and up. But the French also has extended cultural jokes, like the quotations in Astérix chez les Belges from Victor Hugo, writing in Les Châtiments on the Battle of Waterloo, replaced in English by assorted quotations from Byron (writing in Childe Harold on the Duchess of Richmond’s ball on the eve of the battle) plus some familiar quotations from Shakespeare and Milton.
J.M. Was there ever any pressure from the UK publishers to make the translation more aimed at children? It seems to me that compared to the original French, readers of Asterix in English require a wider knowledge of literature, languages and history for a full appreciation. However, in the UK Asterix is sold in the children’s section of bookshops whereas in France Asterix was very quickly marketed for everyone. An example of what I am referring to occurs on the very first page of the first album, Asterix the Gaul. Asterix walks away having knocked out four Roman legionaries. In French the text reads:
“ …les romains y perdent leur latin!”
First legionary: “Vae Victis”
Another legionary replies: “Qu’est-ce qu’y dit?…”
Your English translation is as follows.
Text: “Accidence will happen…”
First legionary:” Vae victo vae victis!”
Another legionary replies: “We decline!”
A.B. Yes, a grammatical play on words to replace the phrase about “forgetting one’s Latin” to signify being totally baffled, which we just don’t have in English. But the word “accidence”, meaning the rules of different case endings for words in inflected languages, provides a pun on “accidents will happen” (as the Romans know only too well), and leads into “Vae victo, vae victis” (meaning woe to the defeated, both singular and plural), and the final “We decline!” in the grammatical sense of declension and hinting at the title of the historian Edward Gibbon’s The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire.
It was once suggested to me that the name “Getafix” was too shocking for children, but I have a perfectly innocent explanation; the great circles of standing stones in Celtic cultures may have been used as observatories so that you could get a fix on the stars … nothing wrong with that, is there?
J.M. In previous discussions on Asterix you have always said that sometimes you just had to accept that a particular joke was untranslatable. You would therefore find an alternative to put in the same place or elsewhere as soon as possible to keep the “joke count” the same. Would you say that this policy required more creative input from the translator than usual?
A.B. I think it’s more a case of having to be, perhaps, more alert than usual to the necessity of translating the spirit rather than the letter of the original text.
J.M. Some albums must have presented more difficulty to translate than others. You already mentioned Le tour de Gaule d’Astérix/ Asterix and the Banquet. Could you comment on some of the problems you had to overcome with the following albums?
- Astérix en Corse/Asterix in Corsica
- Astérix chez les belges/Asterix in Belgium
A.B. Corsica was difficult because general knowledge of that island is scanty in the English-speaking world. We know that Napoleon Bonaparte was born there, and that’s about it. Nor is the late singer Tino Rossi widely known among us. I did latch on to the Napoleonic theme with a name for the proud Corsican leader, who takes his lengthy name in French from one of Rossi’s songs; in English he is Boneywasawarriorwayayix, from a familiar English sea shanty. Belgium, again, is also familiar to us mainly for the battle of Waterloo. As we Brits won it, with the help of our Prussian allies, you’d expect some British writer to have celebrated it with a martial epic poem, and Sir Walter Scott did just that. But he was plainly not a patch on Victor Hugo, for an anonymous verse of the time comments: “On Waterloo’s ensanguined plain, / Full many a gallant man was slain./ But none, by sabre or by shot / Fell half so flat as Walter Scott.” Too bad.
J.M. In lectures you have given you have said that making the British in Asterix in Britain speak with an upper class vernacular was perhaps not the best solution. I always considered this to a be truly excellent and very funny way of finding an equivalent to Goscinny’s device of making the “bretons” speak French using English word order. What would the alternative have been?
A.B. Well, there wasn’t an alternative, really, so I am glad that you are happy with the result. Something always has to go down on the paper in the end. But the French is funnier!
J.M. Is there a translation of a difficult section of Asterix that you are especially proud of?
A.B. I am rather fond of the long passage in Le Cadeau de César / Asterix and Caesar’s Gift, where Asterix fights a duel with an inebriated Roman soldier at the village inn, while emulating Cyrano de Bergerac in Rostand’s play and composing a ballade at the same time. The English version uses perhaps the most famous swordfight in English literature, Hamlet and Laertes beside Ophelia’s grave, with many quotations from that play. Shakespeare to the rescue.
J.M. Was it ever necessary to skip a tough section of a translation and take time to consider it while continuing on? If so, do any specific examples spring to mind?
A.B. Oh, it always is necessary to skip things for the time being and then come back to them. My first rough draft is always littered with gloomy little notes saying, “Joke needed here,” or “New Roman/Gaulish name wanted,” that kind of thing. Sleeping on a problem is a good idea; I think it was Freud who pointed out that solutions often occur overnight. I disagree with Freud on many subjects, but not that one.
J.M. Were there ever cultural references or jokes that neither you nor Derek Hockridge could completely understand? Did you ever have to ask French friends or the authors to explain anything?
A.B. I do remember that neither of us picked up a reference to the Greek seaport of Piraeus, and it was Goscinny who pointed it out.
J.M. Goscinny’s background research was based on readings of Caesar’s Guerre des Gaules (The Gallic Wars) and André Piganiol’s Histoire de Rome etc. Was it necessary for you to do any background reading on Gaul or the Roman Empire to do the translations?
A.B. I’d already studied Latin to General Certificate of Education A level standard (the British school-leaving exam), although my school wouldn’t let me actually take the exam – at the time, they limited students to three subjects, and I’d opted for English, French and German. But they allowed me to sit in on the lessons, and part of Caesar’s De Bello Gallico was among the set books, I think his account of his attempted invasion of Britain. Asterix has a British cousin in the albums, Jolitorax (in English Anticlimax). I suspect that René Goscinny made the Ancient Britons end in –ax because Caesar mentions a king of Kent called Segovax, but sad to say I never asked him, and it’s too late now.
J.M. Goscinny always kept notebooks of character names he had used to avoid duplication. These were passed to Uderzo who has followed the same practice. Do you do the same for the English names?
A.B. Yes, definitely. There are now some 400 re-invented names of characters and places – and other items. In the new album we see more of the bard’s musical instruments. As well as his lyre, he has – French names first, then English versions – a zinzinium [crazichord], a beuglophon [moomoophone], and an orypilinx [infuriatina]. They win him a seat of honor at the final banquet.
J.M. I understand that Goscinny read all the English translations prior to publication. Did he ever make any suggestions?
A.B. He usually just made very kind remarks – but if he did have a suggestion it was pure gold and instantly went into the translation. In his lifetime he read all the English translations carefully. He had grown up in Argentina and spoke English fluently. After his death, Les Éditions Albert René sent out all the translations into various languages to a Paris agency to be checked, and I was lucky enough to come across a splendid lady there, an Englishwoman called Penelope living in France, who knew just how the English versions ought to work.
J.M. In a 1973 interview Goscinny praised the English translations of Asterix and suggested that at times the translation had improved on his original joke(s). Were you aware at the time of his approval?
A.B. Yes, he was extremely kind (see above). However, I don’t think it is possible to improve on the originals!
J.M. Did you have any contact or discussions with Uderzo during Goscinny’s lifetime or when he assumed the role of writer as well?
A.B. They used to do a kind of double act when Goscinny was alive – he did most of the talking, with Uderzo sometimes putting in a shrewd comment that immediately stole the show. They worked so well together, and were very hospitable. I remember being with Albert Uderzo later at the Edinburgh Book Festival, also when a party from London went to the Astérix theme park, and I saw him most recently at the Frankfurt Book Fair a few years ago.
J.M. The English album Asterix in Switzerland features an artwork change where the Antar Viking is replaced by Bibendum (the Michelin man). Was there much debate about this and how was this modification handled?
A.B. It was done because the Antar Viking is not a familiar advertising character in the English-speaking world, and was possible only because the Michelin man is all in black and white, no color. But that was the Hodder-Dargaud edition; the later Hachette (Orion) edition reverts to the Antar figure.
J.M. What was your involvement with English versions of the animated films of Asterix?
A.B. Very little, especially in the later films, where the verbal jokes have mainly given way to slapstick on the screen. It’s a different art form, I’d say.
J.M. Asterix has been hugely successful – especially in France, Germany and the UK – but less so in America. Why is this in your opinion? Goscinny had lived in the USA and worked with American cartoonists such as Harvey Kurtzman and Will Elder. Uderzo was inspired by Disney and inked with a nib to draw more like American cartoonists, the magic potion is to Asterix what spinach is to Popeye – there is a lot of USA influence in the DNA of Asterix.
A.B. Yes, indeed – but more influential, to my mind, is the European tradition of humor. Hence the broad popular appeal of the Asterix series all over Europe, and in some other parts of the English-speaking world, e.g. South Africa and Australasia. My American friends protest that they and their kids love Asterix, but my American friends tend to be teachers, academics, publishers, translators, not such a broad spectrum of the population. I see two possible reasons: first, the French and the British have many centuries of history behind them, and both enjoy the humor of anachronism. North America doesn’t have so much recorded history to laugh at. Second, I don’t think that irony is as prevalent in US books for young people. I translate a good deal for the States, and in the case of children’s fiction I’ve often been asked by worried editors whether a phrase is sarcastic, whereas the sarcasm would be obvious in Europe. The Asterix series has a strong vein of irony.
J.M. Were you ever asked to translate other bandes dessinées besides Asterix?
A.B. Yes; Derek and I translated eight Iznogoud albums for Egmont Publishing, but they never succeeded to the same extent as Asterix.
J.M. Greg, the author of the Achille Talon series and a cartoon script writer as prolific as Goscinny, became literary editor of Dargaud – the original publisher of Asterix in France. He considered the English translations of Asterix to be too English for the American market. He sourced local translations for Asterix and the Great Crossing and another Goscinny work you translated Iznogoud on Holiday (entitled The Caliph’s Vacation). The American Asterix was translated by Robert Steven Cohen. Getafix became Magigimmix, Cacofonix became Malacoustix and Unhygienix became Epidemix. Did you ever read these translations?
A.B. Yes – in fact there were five US Asterix albums in all, but they still didn’t make the huge impact that might have been expected on the American market. I managed to get hold of copies for my friends Catherine Delesse and Bertrand Richet, who wrote a book about the English translations, Le Coq gaulois à l’heure anglaise.
J.M. Shortly before his death in 1977, Goscinny had a big falling out with his publisher Georges Dargaud. He and Uderzo intended to form their own publishing house – something Uderzo later did his own. One of the areas of dispute between the authors and publisher was that they claimed royalties on foreign sales had been hidden by Dargaud. Was this situation something the translators were aware of at the time?
A.B. I for one knew nothing about the details, only that Goscinny and Uderzo were setting up their own company.
J.M. One article I read analysed the number of puns per album. It established that, contrary to expectation, the texts by Uderzo alone actually contained more puns than the earlier Goscinny texts which used more cultural satire. What differences did you find translating Uderzo’s solo work compared to Goscinny’s texts?
A.B. It has always seemed to me that Uderzo made the right decision in continuing on his own, so as to keep the established tradition going, alternating adventures at home in Gaul and those in other parts of the world. And now he has been very much involved in handing that tradition on to the new team.
J.M. Were there any further adjustments to be made when translating the two latest albums by Ferri and Conrad?
A.B. Ferri & Conrad have inherited a well-established tradition, but traditions themselves evolve over the course of time. However, the approach to the translation remains the same and the transition between the authors is seamless. In Asterix and the Picts, the first Conrad and Ferri album, I remember having to persuade the French publishers that the tree being thrown by Obelix really ought to be called a caber in English – as in tossing the caber at the Highland Games. In fact the word is from the Gaelic language of Scotland.
J.M. How has the English readership of Asterix evolved from when you started?
A.B. I remember that some libraries thought at first it wouldn’t be in line with their dignity to stock and lend the stories – not any more!
J.M. Uderzo originally intended not to allow any new Asterix albums to be released when he retired. Like Hergé with Tintin, he wanted the characters to continue for merchandising and films etc. but not live new adventures. He reversed this decision, sold the rights to Hachette – resulting in legal action from his daughter – and oversaw the transition to other authors (currently Ferri and Conrad). Do you have any comments on this affair that made a lot of waves in the French press?
A.B. No, it’s certainly not for me to comment. Considering the way that the decision went, I’m just happy to do what I can to keep the tradition going in English, because I feel great affection and loyalty to the series. I think it is unique in our time.
J.M. Could you define the series’ “uniqueness”?
A.B. I mean it is unique not in being a translated bande dessinée that is popular in the English-speaking world, because there is always Hergé’s Tintin, but in also appealing to readers with humor on different levels, from simple groan-making puns to quite complex running gags based on cultural phenomena.
J.M. You must have received some interesting letters regarding Asterix over the years. Do any have any examples you can share with us?
A.B. I remember hearing from an Australian teenager who said the series had made her really interested in Ancient Rome, and asked what she could read about it next. (I pointed her in the direction of Lindsey Davis’s Roman crime novels set in the reign of Vespasian.) People tend to assume that the Asterix albums are mainly for boys, so I am delighted to hear from girls, too. And my own young granddaughters love the books.
J.M. Do you have favorite Asterix album?
A.B. It’s much too hard to make a choice!
J.M. When pushed, Uderzo always admits that Obelix is his favorite character. Do you agree?
A.B. Again, I’d find it hard to choose. It’s worth saying, I think, that the humor of the stories is basically kindly. I was once asked to check a game book based on them for authenticity of tone, and came up against a description of Asterix twisting a Roman’s arm “until he screamed with pain”. That wasn’t really right. We see Romans comically bashed up all the time, groaning because they are bruised and have bumps coming up – but we don’t see real blood flowing. And the Gauls’ traditional enemy Julius Caesar becomes almost a friend.
J.M. Would you say that Asterix furthered your career and reputation as a translator? Given that you translate from German and Danish as well and cover areas a diverse as the history of cuisine, modern novels, Freud essays… it certainly does not seem have typecast you as a translator of children’s books.
A.B. Well, variety is the essence of the translator’s profession. We don’t have to be typecast. I love Asterix and his friends; that didn’t keep me from translating a perfectly serious biography of the Emperor Augustus by the German historian Jochen Bleicken, recently published by Penguin. I never set out to be a translator; it was accidental, and Astérix turned out to be a particularly happy accident.
Cet entretien est accessible en français ici.