Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Hey, Mann

Oh, Henry, leave me alone.

It started, as so many things do for me, in Half-Price Books. I saw a thing of beauty making eyes at me, winking his gilt pages and flashing some lovely interior pictures (by Gonzalo Fonseca ) at me, and all for a mere $7. Franklin Mint Press, no less. 

But (1) I haven't read a thing by Thomas Mann, (2) it's 724 pages long, and (3) I already have enough books to read to keep me going through at least two more incarnations on this fleshy plane of existence. 

But it show was purty.

So of course I started sniffing around on the internets. And then I went to the library and picked up a copy of Death in Venice . . . because it was the only Mann available at the branch I went to . . . and it had an introduction by Michael Cunningham which was just fucking brilliant, and not only made me want to read Death in Venice, but some Michael Cunningham as well. Not to mention The Magic Mountain. Which, by the way, I picked up at my regular library branch when I stopped in there Thursday.

And then today I stopped by Goodwill to have a look at their books, which is something I don't do very often, and there on the shelf was a copy of Death in Venice. So you know, I can take a fucking hint. I bought it. Going to read me some Thomas Mann. At least two different translations of Death in Venice, I think. 

There's also a movie available on Amazon Instant Video, so that will probably happen as well.

AND THEN:

Okay. So the first (from the library) edition of Death in Venice that I picked up (and am currently reading)--the one with the lovely Michael Cunningham introduction--was translated by Michael Henry Hein. And the one I picked up at Goodwill t'other day was translated by Kenneth Burke. And today at the library I picked up one translated by Joachim Neugroshel. And one translated by H. T. Lowe-Porter, which is, if memory serves me, the first English translation of the novella. 

Oh, and look what else I found at the library: the movie version. So I guess Amazon won't be getting that two dollars from me.

And now, of course, the question is, "Do I really have it in me to read four different translations of the same novel?" I don't know. I've never done anything like that before. But I find myself kind of thrilled by the prospect of doing it. Of thinking about the differences between the translations, all of that. Blame Michael Cunningham for re-igniting my interest in the art of translation.

And a P.S. 1 -- I found an article online in which I learned that there were two more translations--by Stanley Applebaum and Jefferson S. Chase--and then I found that there's an Internet Archive version translated by Martin C. Doege . . . and oh, look, there's a Norton Critical Edition translated by Clayton Koelb (pretty close to home, that one) and a Bantam Classics one by David Luke, and something called an enoted edition translated by Thomas S. and Abby Hansen. Lord almighty! How many translations of this book are out there?

And oh . . . by the way . . . there's also an opera, a ballet, and a stage version. 




1 That's "a big P.S. in case you're not paying attention.

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