This essay examines connections between the materiality of language and the impulse to translate through the hybrid series Cuadernos de lengua y literatura (2000– ; Language and Literature Notebooks) by the Argentine writer Mario Ortiz. These books confront historical trauma through a study of materials and processes that generate language in their author's domestic environment. I read Ortiz to argue that a task of translation consists of tracing how words function through ways in which their original meaning breaks down. Their function is revealed through the tasks the translator carries out to create the new linguistic object of the translated text. This essay revisits a key image from Walter Benjamin's “The Task of the Translator,” the broken vessel, through broken vessels in Ortiz's work, as well as recent materially focused translation scholarship. I conclude that the material specificity of language intervenes in the lives of readers, writers, and translators to respond to grief.

This essay explores things in translation, examining what translation does to things and what happens to things in their trajectory in translation. Although translation scholars have posed useful questions about how to translate realia, I take a different approach here. When objects circulate among different groups of people, they are transformed in defiance of their material stability. The linguistic analysis of translations may allow us to observe from a unique perspective not only what kind of force things have at different times in different societies but also how the materially stable objects can actually be different things in different translation scenes. Translations of material objects offer, then, a charged locus of study, generating special, valuable knowledge about cultural contact and transfer, as well as about cross-cultural and transethnic misunderstandings. The essay focuses on three case studies from English retranslations of the landmark nineteenth-century Brazilian novel The Posthumous Memoirs of Brás Cubas, by J. M. Machado de Assis, as well as retranslations of biblical Hebrew narratives. By contextualizing particular linguistic references to clothing and artifacts, I demonstrate that translation imbues these ostensibly stable material objects with new cultural significances and valuations: language effectively remakes them.

A wave of self-translated poetry signals a significant new phase in Latinx literature. This inventive poetry, which seeks to expand translation's creative and theoretical horizons, is attuned to inequities in cultural capital associated with English and Spanish in the United States and to the histories and contemporary contexts responsible for those inequities. My case study is Mónica de la Torre's Repetition Nineteen, which illuminates the complexities of bilingual Mexican American experience and the implications of an author's translating her own work. I argue that Repetition Nineteen is a “transcreation” (Haroldo de Campos's term for creative translation) that critiques transculturation in the United States.

The ability to translate English poetry into ancient Greek and Latin sat at the pinnacle of a Victorian classical education, but we rarely read the resulting Greek and Latin poetry as serious literature. Yet this corpus documents an important, culturally prestigious poetic practice that entrenched a narrative of cultural descent from Greece and Rome, affiliating modern British poetry with classical antecedents. Moreover, it taught generations of schoolboys (and some noteworthy schoolgirls) interpretive methods for understanding English poetry, thereby providing an arena in which the canon of English poets coalesced before the institutionalization of English literature in universities. I re-create the interpretive moves and cultural affiliations enacted through verse composition in the Victorian period, and I analyze particular verse compositions that shed new light on the classicizing context informing contemporary poetic creation.

How do we as scholars of transnational US literary studies understand W. E. B. Du Bois's The Souls of Black Folk (1903) outside the historical and racial context of the United States? Anyone familiar with the text will agree that it primarily focuses on the unique condition of African American existence or, as Du Bois himself puts it, “the strange meaning of being black” at the turn of the last century. But to what extent is this “black” experience historically, nationally, or even racially bound? An exploration of the impact of the Chinese translation of Souls in 1959 China reveals that the fluidity of historical, national, and racial boundaries goes beyond the limits of mere cultural negotiations. Situated in the critical formation of Afro-Asian engagements during the Bandung era and Du Bois's visit to China in 1959, Souls was pivotal to China's reassertion of what it means to be “black” on the global stage of proletariat revolution.

The poet Langston Hughes was central to mid-century transnational exchanges and Cold War translation. This essay examines the poet's centrality through a new lens, presenting a case study on Czech translations of Hughes's poetry between 1950 and 1963 that draws on archival materials, especially the correspondence between Hughes and one of his Czech translators, Jiří Valja; paratexts; and analysis of translations. The essay shows how Hughes's poetry was translated into Czech against the backdrop of Cold War publishing politics and aesthetic norms, how the translations of Hughes's work operated in these contexts, and how Cold War translation emerged as a specific site of inquiry with its own challenges, contacts, and practices.

From 1968 to 1969 the Argentine modernist Juan Gelman invented and translated into Spanish a contemporary from the United States, named Sidney West, who wrote about small-town mid-American life. Traducciones III: Los poemas de Sidney West (Translations III: The Poems of Sidney West) is a pseudotranslation—a text disguised as a translation that in fact has no corresponding original. While most critics identify Gelman's recourse to pseudotranslation as a personal undertaking, this essay examines the experiment for the first time within the inter-American Cold War context of the 1960s, locating pseudo/translation as an in/subordinate poetic protocol particularly well equipped for intervening in the soft-power mechanisms of US cultural imperialism—in ways that are both treasonous and collaborative. This essay recovers the anti-imperialist politics of the West poems, expands conversations on translation in Gelman's poetry, and proposes pseudo/translation as a new, bifocal mode of reading for texts that forge cross-cultural contact.

Modern Greek poets often imagine interlingual translation as intralingual—that is, as rewording within the same language when two distinct languages are involved. George Seferis and Yannis Ritsos provide two cases, Seferis in translating Ancient Greek poetry and Ritsos in translating Romanian, Czech, and Slovakian poetry. For these poet-translators on opposite sides of the political spectrum, the claim of intralingualism responds to different experiences of exile: Seferis as a refugee from Asia Minor and then as an overseas diplomat, Ritsos as a political prisoner and then as a Communist Party emissary. Intralingual translation assuages xenitia, the pain of not being able to go home, but it also masks interlingual differences that serve other cultural and political functions, whether imagining a national language that continues a valuable cultural past or serving as a transnational vehicle for unifying minor cultures.

Literary back-translation, the practice of bringing a text back into the language of its source after it has passed through one or more translations, has long been overlooked. To recuperate its richly entangled global history, this essay looks to the representation of translation in Cervantes's Don Quixote and to the novel's recent back-translation based on 魔俠傳 (Moxia Zhuan; Story of the Enchanted Knight), a 1920s translation into classical Chinese by Lin Shu that itself was an indirect translation based on two eighteenth-century English editions of Cervantes's text. While foregrounding the generative labor of translators, both fictional and historical, the transnational and diachronic scope of this back-translational loop prompts us to rethink the domesticating/foreignizing binary. Taking a cue from Cervantes's metaphor of translation as the knotty back side of a tapestry, this study seeks to overturn front-facing notions of translation by approaching its history from the back.

While it no longer seems possible to speak of an invisible narrator of La princesse de Clèves, the 1678 historical novel by Madame de Lafayette, the notion of an invisible translator defines the work of late-twentieth-century English translations of the novel. According to this view, the translator should remain unseen by the reader and therefore “faithful” to the original text, so as not to upset the interpretive possibilities that Lafayette offers. In fact, however, the translator's infidelity is both necessary and vital to interpreting eros in La princesse de Clèves. The novel itself makes infidelity a form of insight, and Lafayette's vocabulary forces English translators into situations where any choice can be simultaneously unfaithful and correct. Like the character of the princess, translators have conflicting fidelities that should be made visible to fully reveal the richness of the novel.

Some readers prefer an earlier translation in which they encounter a source text, particularly a canonized work, over later versions of the same text. The decisive encounter is so compelling as to establish an enduring attachment that entails denigration or outright rejection of later versions. Insofar as the attachment suggests obsessiveness, it can be called a fixation. The readers’ responses share features that transcend membership in specific linguistic communities and cultural institutions: they value a high degree of readability, which is construed as an indication of greater equivalence to the source text. Here the readers reveal their assumption of an instrumental model—that is, an understanding of translation as the reproduction or transfer of an invariant contained in or caused by the source text, an invariant form, meaning, or effect. The fixation can be illuminated by considering the intersubjective relations in which the preferred translation is first encountered. Cases recorded or represented in literary texts enable a more incisive account of the conditions that shape the reader's experience: John Keats's poem “On First Looking into Chapman's Homer” (1816) and Vladimir Nabokov's novel Pnin (1957). These texts disclose an identity-forming process that can be deepened with Jacques Lacan's concept of the “object a.” The instrumentalism that underpins the fixation deserves consideration because it would in effect deny or stop cultural change, innovative interpretation, the very practice of translation.

In the Ottoman-Palestinian intellectual Muḥammad Rūḥī al-Khālidī's Tārīkh ʿIlm al-Adab ʿind al-Ifranj wa-l-ʿArab, wa-Fīktūr Hūkū (1904, 2nd ed. 1912; History of the Science of Literature among the Europeans and the Arabs, and Victor Hugo), the figure of Victor Hugo marks the uneven chime and dissonance of select notes in Arabic and French literary epistemes and histories. Tracing Hugo's dictum that poetry inheres not in forms but in ideas to Arab-Islamic antiquity, al-Khālidī incarnates in Hugo the lost “nature” to which a fallen, “artificial” Arabic literature must return. In this regime of comparability, words must be cut to the measure of their meaning, and meter—poetic measure—tuned to the “natural” rhythms of speech. With al-Khālidī's translations of meter across time and language, this essay reads his translations of Hugo's theory and poetry (“Grenade”) to argue that the underlying concept of measure encodes a drive to equate the world's literatures and empires.

Following recent suggestions that multilingual narratives be studied for their narratological features, this essay reads Yoko Tawada's Memoirs of a Polar Bear (2011) as one instance where narratological features are refashioned to allegorize postmonolingual translation. In lieu of relying on narrative perspectival shifts, the novel merges the voices of its animal and human characters. Examining the consequent deconstruction of numerous binaries—animal/human, speech/writing, past/present—the essay tracks the novel's disarticulation of countable languages as they have been imagined in biological, phonocentric, and genealogical terms. The uncounting of languages alongside the novel's rethinking of maternity enables a reading of Memoirs as an antinarrative that counters the linguistic family romance (as articulated by Yasemin Yildiz) encapsulated by the trope of the mother tongue. A narratological reading of Memoirs reveals the structure through which monolingualism is undermined and the emergence of a postmonolingual subject made possible.

This essay argues that the translation controversy surrounding the South Korean novelist Han Kang's Man Booker Prize–winning novel, The Vegetarian, offers a useful model for thinking about both the politics of translating into English and what the stakes of these politics are for scholars of world literature invested in questions of globalization and empire. Positing a model of “reading like a translator” as a way of engaging meaningfully with a text from a source language that one does not have a foundation in—and applying this practice to a reading of The Vegetarian that turns on an understanding of a Korean untranslatable, han—this essay argues that the task of the reader of The Vegetarian in English is to take seriously the “textured moments” that populate the text, in order to reflect on the larger histories of encounter and violence that color South Korea's geopolitical entanglements and shape the literature of its diaspora.

What is the international literary history behind Xi Chuan's Chinese prose poems, and what is the literary history behind translating them into English as prose poems? Did Hegel's belief that poetry can be “translated into other languages without essential detriment to its value” contribute to the birth of prose poetry, through a synthesis with poetic form? If so, what does this notion say about Hegel's idea that China lies “outside the World's History”? In the light of the historical association between China and prose poetry in the literary history of French (Judith Gautier, Victor Segalen, Henri Michaux) and English (Allen Upward, Nathaniel Tarn, Ron Silliman, Bob Perelman, Joan Retallack, Mei-mei Berssenbrugge, Tammy Lai-Ming Ho, Sarah Howe, Ken Chen, Cathy Park Hong, Eleanor Goodman, Jennifer Kronovet, and Nick Admussen), I discuss prose poetry as an outcome of what Joyelle McSweeney and Johannes Göransson call a translational “deformation zone,” to argue that translating Chinese prose poetry demonstrates China to be inside, not outside, the history of the world.

This piece acknowledges the MLA's many initiatives in support of translation while also advocating for even greater visibility for translation as a mode of combatting language injustice in disciplines across the university. Translation offers opportunities for inclusiveness, information sharing, and collaborative knowledge production across linguistic, social, economic, and geographic divides. It also offers a form of hands-on apprenticeship in intellectual and scholarly rigor for undergraduate and graduate students alike. And by translating the texts of colleagues writing in other languages, scholars working in languages of the Global North can help further goals of language justice and access by facilitating exposure to and for other traditions of knowledge production. This piece proposes that, instead of treating translation as a threat to an individual's academic viability, we embrace translation as a means of increasing the vitality and equity of our intellectual communities.