Literatura científica selecionada sobre o tema "French wit and humor – Translations into English"

Hors d’oeuvre The popularity of cookbooks and culinary television shows in the last few years has been the origin of all sorts of new phenomena, such as literature crossing the bridge from cookbooks to such subgenres as food memoirs and culinary travelogues, or the discovery of new food cultures and food vocabulary. We can now cook the Basque menestra following the recipe of the famous blogger and cookbook author, Aran Goayaga, or try our hand at the Chinese soup tangyuan from Leslie Li’s Daughter of Heaven regardless of where we live. But how well does food translate across languages and cultures? I know what to expect from menestra as I am familiar with the Italian minestrone, which was introduced into the western dialects of Slovene as mineštra. But when reading about tangyuan, there is no mental image, much less a taste imprint, accompanying the word. Language and food are closely linked, if for nothing else, for the fact that the mouth is instrumental in both. For language, the oral cavity is the means of expression, for food it is the means for reception and tasting. It is like an intersection where language and food meet. When we reminisce about a favourite childhood dish or food, we can virtually taste it only by saying the word. The senses, supported by emotions, are a powerful tool, a reliable memory. It is for this reason that sometimes emotions are more easily expressed through food than with words, such as Tita’s longing and desperation in Laura Esquivel’s Like Water for Chocolate. It is perhaps because of this inability to truly verbalise the wonder and deliciousness of food that when translating food between different languages and cultures, meanings and tastes can become unclear or lost. Appetiser In less exact culinary genres, such as food memoirs, difficult translations can be tackled by using approximate and roundabout descriptions. “Metaphors are very plentiful, evocative, and useful in food memoirs. They are often created to explain exotic foods and culinary practices in terms that are more familiar to [...] readers” (Waxman 373). Similarly, in an interview about multiculturalism and identity, Homi Bhabha suggests that “all forms of culture are in some ways related to each other” and thus translatable (Rutherford 209–10). However, Bhabha is also referring to metaphors, myths, and symbols. Food, however, is a very particular ingredient of culture that cannot be always expressed with metaphors when translated. Cookbooks require an exact terminology; metaphors are of little help when a soufflé collapses or steaks end up overdone. Yet despite cultural, ethnic, religious, and other differences, there are certain concepts, such as beauty, that can be almost universally appreciated. Kant’s notion of “common sense“ explains what enables us to comprehend and appreciate beauty. By this universal communicability Kant “means that humans all must have a kind of sensing ability which operates the same way” (Burnham). This sensing ability could easily be expanded onto the beauty (and deliciousness) of food. After all, just as everyone can appreciate the magnificence of a Renoir, they can enjoy the satisfying mix of spices and herbs in a steak tartare, regardless of their mother tongue. And yet, when food is transformed into a written recipe and the language becomes a barrier, the opportunity for misunderstanding becomes greater. Walter Benjamin maintains that in translation, “the transfer can never be total [...] Even when all the surface content has been extracted and transmitted, the primary concern of the genuine translator remains elusive. Unlike the words of the original, it is not translatable, because the relationship between content and language is quite different in the original and the translation” (19). Furthermore, translation “implies adapting the meaning of a proposition, enabling it to pass from one code to another” (Bourriaud 30). If translation means adaptation, then in the process we lose the nuances of dishes that differ from one village to the next, not to mention from one nation to another at the other end of the world. And with this, we can lose subtle “insights into cultures” (Waxman 364). Brett Jocelyn Epstein, a translator and editor of a number of cookbooks, enumerates several issues that cause trouble when translating culinary texts, among them the availability of ingredients, different cuts of meats, measurements, and the kitchen equipment. While all are of equal importance for the translation of a text, let us focus on the difficulties that can arise when translating the ingredients that can sometimes be essential for a dish but difficult to find in a foreign country. Epstein emphasizes that simply substituting an ingredient with a more easily obtainable one is not an appropriate solution if this is repeated throughout a cookbook for recipe after recipe, ingredient after ingredient. There are limits to the changes a translator can make in a text; limits that turn one dish into an entirely new fare with a host of new ingredients. Instead, Epstein suggests keeping the original ingredients, but adding a list of possible substitutes. National Dish Let us have a look at an edible example. In France, crème fraîche is a naturally fermented thick cream, but the version sold in the UK is fermented by adding sour cream, buttermilk, or yoghurt. In North Wales it is known as “croghurt“ (a portmanteau word for “cream and yoghurt“) (Ayto 103). Crème fraîche, although slightly sour with pH of about 4.5, is not sour cream, but in many countries sour cream is used as a substitute because the French version is unobtainable. On the contrary, in Italy, it is near impossible to find sour cream. There is no tradition of using it in Italian cuisine, and it is mostly immigrants from other countries, such as Ukrainians, Poles, or Slovenians, who use it in their cooking. Panna acida or panna agra, as sour cream is known in Italy, is being imported and only sold in selected shops. As another example, the Swedes use filmjölk and gräddfil which are most often translated as yoghurt and cultivated buttermilk respectively, although these translations are mere approximations. Filmjölk may resemble yoghurt in consistency but it is fermented by different bacteria that give it a less sour taste. Gräddfil is a little thicker than yoghurt and also not as sour. Then there are kefir, piimä, kumis, lassi, ayran, and clabber, to mention just a few related, but different, products. How do such untranslatable ingredients affect the final outcome? Crêpes with fruit and sour cream are not quite the same as with crème fraîche; sour cream lacks the creaminess of the crème and has a tangier taste. Worse still, sour cream can curdle when added to a soup and heated, while crème fraîche does not. It is evident then, that culinary translation affects more than just words. This is not, however, only a matter for chefs and cooks to consider; it is also an issue when an author wants to share traditional dishes with readers of other nationalities and especially when the core ingredients of their (or their country’s) signature dishes are not available globally. I am not here referring only to such unusual ingredients as the honeypot ants used in bush tucker. Some foods, despite the logistics accessibility of every nook and cranny of our world, are sometimes still difficult or impossible to obtain outside their place of origin simply for the lack of a high enough demand. Is it, then, better to stick to the original ingredients and keep the integrity of the recipe, or is it better to adapt the dish to another culture or let it exist between cultures? Would we rather our recipe remain a “wannabe dish” because readers are unable to find the ingredients for it, or would we prefer for them to enjoy an approximation of our creation? Linguist, anthropologist, and renowned chef, Rick Bayless, tackles the translation of food the same way he would translate languages. He introduced countless Mexican dishes into the North American cuisine through his award-winning Mexican restaurants, cookbooks, and his television show Mexico–One Plate at a Time. He looks at the issue of translation not solely from the point of view of the original cuisine, but also from the perspective of the target audience. “You have to really understand both cultures. Not just the words, not just the ingredients or the dishes out of context, but you have to understand it on a much broader perspective” (Translating Food). He is trying to present traditional Mexican dishes in a way that will make them “understandable“ in the American context. Bayless maintains that “people will cook a dish exactly the way it's done in the host culture,” but that makes it “this sort of relic that’s not understandable” in the target culture’s context. Or as German writer and poet, Rudolf Pannwitz, stated, “our translations, even the best ones, proceed from a wrong premise. They want to turn Hindi, Greek, English into German instead of turning German into Hindi, Greek, English” (qtd. in Benjamin 22). The more ingredients, the more complex the situation becomes, and sometimes a dish is near impossible to translate because of its cultural specificity. Mostly, such names of dishes are kept in the original, like polenta, sushi, or the already mentioned tangyuan. But particularly smaller nations, with subsequently smaller languages, feel the need to make their dishes more recognisable. For example, certain Slovenian dishes, such as idrijski žlikrofi, are registered as a traditional speciality (TSG) at the European Commission but even as such they often have poor recognisability. The same is true of other typical Slovenian dishes; while well known and appreciated at home, they are often quite unknown outside the country’s borders. Consequently, to reach higher recognisability, we often over-translate. Fig. 1. The Making of idrijski žlikrofi. 2013. The Author. An example of this is a Slovenian dessert whose established name in English is the “Prekmurian layer cake“ (a layered cake with apples, poppy seeds, cottage cheese and walnuts from the Prekmurje region, a region across the river Mura). However, it happens quite often that you will receive a decidedly different translation if you ask a waiter in a restaurant or people on the street what prekmurska gibanica is. Someone at some point literally translated it as the “over Mura moving cake“ (gibanica contains the morpheme gib- meaning “movement, motion“, hence “moving cake“, although it has nothing to do with moving). The wrong translation is probably mentioned more often than the correct one and it is so nonsensical that it has been preserved as a running joke, while some still think it is a correct translation. Another quandary for the translator is the existence of words that denote different dishes in one language. Within hundred kilometres of my hometown, the name fancelj refers to three different culinary delights. We use it to denote an omelette-like dish of beaten eggs with yarrow, lemon balm or other herbs occasionally added to it. In the upper Soča valley, it is known to denote doughnuts. Further to the south, fancelj stands for deep-fried buns similar to what the French call pets-de-nonne (literally “nun’s farts“). Similarly, in Swedish, the terms kaka and tårta quite often overlap in their usage and thus cause confusion when being translated into English (as cake and torte, and sometimes even as cookie, depending on the type of pastry in the original recipe). If one is not familiar with such dialectal distinctions or cultural peculiarities, it is difficult to avoid mistranslations. Such delicate translations also include the Turkish coffee that becomes Greek coffee in Greek bars, French toast that is called pain perdu in France, or Russian salad, called salade russe by the French, but French salad by Slovenians (and salat oliv’e by the Russians). Furthermore, if you order à la mode in France, you will be served beef braised with vegetables. In the US, however, you can only order à la mode for dessert as it means an apple pie or similar dessert served with ice cream (Ayto). These examples are often due to disagreements and misconceptions about who created a certain dish, and wrong usage can cause resentment among the (presumably) wronged parties. Sometimes, delicious bits of information get lost in translation. A Slovenian dialectal word knedelj is usually translated into English as dumpling, a neat and straightforward translation. But in the original word knedelj that was borrowed from the German knödel, related to kneten (Snoj 209), one can detect traces of Proto-Germanic knedanan that developed through Old Saxon knedan into Old English cnedan and today’s knead (Online Etymology Dictionary). The two words, one English and the other dialectal Slovene, originate in the same ancient expression. But I suppose only linguists would find this information worth mulling over for a few seconds before tucking into a wholesome serving of plum dumplings. Considering the aforementioned difficulties of culinary translation, it is not surprising that certain words are often simply left in the original. This is especially true of Italian dishes, such as types of pasta, or certain Asian fares (for more on translating Chinese dishes see Mu 2010). Consequently, many are now familiar with calzone, bento, farfalle, sashimi, zucchini, and zabaglione (the latter of which is also known as sabayon, zabaione, and zabajone). Even once the words find their place in their adoptive language and the users become wholly familiarised with their meaning and thus the problem of translation is avoided, another difficulty arises—that of adapting the word (morphologically) to the new language. Pine nuts in American English are also called pignoli, a word borrowed from Italian. There seems to be considerable confusion as to the plural form of the word in its English usage. Pignoli, originally a plural form of pignolo, “hovers between singular and plural in English”, where subsequently two other plural forms have appeared—pignolia and pignolis (Ayto 277). Dessert For readers, getting to know about other cultures’s foods and their preparation can be very enriching for gaining an understanding of both those particular cultures and, in turn, their own (Waxman), but for writers and translators of cookbooks, food memoirs, culinary travelogues, and other such culturally and culinary specific genres (and especially those from smaller countries), translating food expressions can be challenging. There is no simple rule that helps translate every expression or ingredient. Translations must be carried out on a case-to-case basis, sometimes compromising the food, sometimes the translation. Similarly, as more and more people become nomads in the 21st century, immigrating for economic or political reasons, family, or simply for fun, in the same way food too is becoming a “portable practice” (Bourriaud 33) that crosses boundaries, cultures, and languages. Due to this, food is taking on a new role; its functions “both unifying and divisive” (Waxman 366). The culinary translator’s task should be to translate in such a way that the divisive effect is minimised as much as possible and yet the text retains its cultural flavour. This is difficult, and requires knowledge of both the source and target languages and cultures, but ultimately it can be done. Food and language are like a pair of tango dancers—caught in a passionate embrace, but bickering constantly nonetheless, their tastes too dissimilar. Or, as Isabel Allende suggests, to seduce a lover one needs both food and words: “language is also aphrodisiac in regard to food; commenting on the dishes, their flavours and perfumes, is a sensual exercise for which we have a vast vocabulary filled with wit, metaphors, references, humour, word games, and subtleties” (106). But to seduce with words, we must first taste the food. Perhaps translators and authors of culinary texts are not all accomplished cooks, but it is of great help if they can prepare and taste the dishes and ingredients that they are attempting to adapt to new cultures and environments. References Allende, Isabel. Aphrodite, A Memoir of the Senses. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1998. Ayto, John. The Diner’s Dictionary: Word Origins of Food & Drink. UK: Oxford UP, 2012. Benjamin, Walter. “The Task of the Translator.” The Translation Studies Reader. Ed. Lawrence Venuti. London: Routledge, 2004. 15–25. Bourriaud, Nicolas. The Radicant. New York: Lukas & Sternberg, 2010. Burnham, Douglas. “Kant’s Aesthetics.” Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy 30 Jun. 2005. 7 Apr. 2013 ‹http://www.iep.utm.edu/kantaest›. Epstein, Brett Jocelyn. “What’s Cooking: Translating Food.” Translation Journal, 13.3 (2009). 11 Mar. 2013 ‹http://www.bokorlang.com/journal/49cooking.htm›. Esquivel, Laura. Like Water for Chocolate. USA: Transworld Publishers, 1989. Goayaga, Aran. Small Plates & Sweet Treats: My Family’s Journey to Gluten-free Cooking. New York: Little, Brown & Company, 2012. Li, Leslie. Daughter of Heaven: A Memoir of Earthly Recipes. New York: Arcade, 2005. Mu, John Congjun. “English Translation of Chinese Dish Names.” Translation Journal 14.4 (Oct. 2010). 8 Apr. 2013 ‹http://www.translationjournal.net/journal/54dishes.htm›. Online Etymology Dictionary. 12 Feb. 2013 ‹http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=knead&allowed_in_frame=0›. Rutherford, Jonathan. “The Third Space: Interview with Homi Bhabha.” Identity: Community, Culture, Difference. Ed. Jonathan Rutherford. London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1990. 207–221. Snoj, Marko. Slovenski etimološki slovar. Ljubljana: Modrijan založba, 2009. “Translating Food.” Visual Thesaurus 23 May 2007. 11 Mar. 2013 ‹https://www.visualthesaurus.com/cm/wc/translating-food›. Waxman, Barbara Frey. “Food Memoirs: What They Are, Why They Are Popular, and Why They Belong in the Literature Classroom.” College English 70.4 (2008): 363–82.

Teesid: Tartu Ülikooli maailmakirjanduse professori, luuletaja, kirjandusteadlase ja hispaaniakeelse kirjanduse spetsialisti Jüri Talveti tõlketegevuse viljade hulka kuulub luulet ja proosat nii sajandeid vanast Hispaania klassikast kui ka 20. sajandil või tänapäeval romaani keeltes või inglise keeles loodud teostest. Käesolev artikkel keskendub sellele, kuidas professor Talvet on tõlgendanud luule ja poeetika, kuid ka kirjandusajaloo, iseäranis barokk-kirjanduse alaseid küsimusi oma kirjandusteaduslikes esseedes. Vaadeldakse ka tema tõlketegevuse mahtu ja tõlketöö põhimõtteid. Jüri Talvet (born in 1945) is a poet and a scholar of comparative literature, Chair Professor of World Literature at the University of Tartu. His numerous translations of poetry and poetical fiction from the Romance languages and, to a lesser extent, from English, reflect his views on world poetry. Those views are also expressed in his theoretical writings from the years of 1977 to 2015. Having studied English literature as the main subject at the University of Tartu, he early developed an interest in Spanish, in other Iberian languages, and in the Iberoamerican literatures. His translations from that area include works from medieval and early modern literature as well as notable literary achievements from the 20th century and the contemporary era. Talvet’s interpretations of Federico García Lorca and the “Latin American boom” authors are supported by profound insights into the philosophy, aesthetics, and poetics of the 17th century Spanish Baroque literature, known as the literary Golden Age of Spain. The influence which Talvet’s activities have exerted has widened the horizons of Estonia’s literary culture: while in the early 20th century, the previous German, Russian and Finnish leanings were supplemented by orientations to, and translations from, French and Italian literatures, Talvet has helped to enrich the Estonian literary landscape with the mentality and traditions of even more distant language areas, such as Castilian (Spanish), Catalan, Galician, Portuguese, and the Latin American countries. In the section “Quevedo and Góngora” of this article, Talvet’s interpretation of some of the key issues of dispute in the Baroque literature of Spain are studied, based both on his theoretical essays and on his translations of the poetry of Francisco de Quevedo. Talvet has attempted to use the terms of the Baroque philosopher and writer Baltasar Gracián, agudeza, concepto (definable approximately as “conceit” or “wit”) and conceptismo, for the analysis of the late 20th century Estonian poetry. On that background, defnitions of conceptismo and cultismo (the other main school in Spanish Baroque poetry) are offered in this article, with implications that those definitions may have for understanding different styles and methods of poetry in general, and the characteristics of Talvet’s own poems and poetry translations in particular. To escape diffusion in pure sensuality and verbal indulgence, poetry has to rely on concepts as well as images. Talvet’s interpretations of poetry and poetical thinking are found to be close to conceptismo, or with a considerable amount of conceptuality inherent to them. The juxtaposition of paradoxical ideas from different levels of reality, social and psychic, is seen as the essential poetical method that Talvet refers to as he defines, quoting Yuri Lotman, the structural-semantic code of poetry as being “paradigmatic”. In the final section of the article, Talvet’s 23 book-length published translations are listed, including translations from Spanish, Catalan, English and French. The list does not include numerous translations of single poems or cycles of poetry that have appeared in literary journals, nor his contributions to anthologies of poetry, nor the translations from his native Estonian into a foreign language, such as Spanish or English, in which he has participated. His translations encompass lyrical works as well as fiction and plays. Talvet has translated classical European poetry, such as the sonnets of Petrarch and Quevedo and Provençal poems, as well as the rhymed poems of American poets into Estonian with complete metrical correspondence and full rhymes. However, in the latest decades Talvet has expressed scepticism in the sense and feasibility of attempting to convey the rhyming complexities of the major European literatures into Estonian, a language with a considerably smaller potential for finding full rhymes. Accordingly, his three translations of Spanish Baroque drama (by Calderón and Tirso de Molina) employ a liberal method of versification. In all his versatile activities as a poet, a translator, and a theorist of poetry, Professor Talvet has shown great devotion to developing and cultivating aesthetic values. A lot of his colleagues and students have benefited from his friendly advice. Thinking of his contributions to Estonia’s literary tradition, one may repeat and paraphrase the sentence that he used for the conclusion of his essay on the Catalan poet Salvador Espriu in 1977: “to write (and to translate) poetry is to work for the benefit of the people.”

Introduction Cookbooks are an exceptional written record of what is largely an oral tradition. They have been described as “magician’s hats” due to their ability to reveal much more than they seem to contain (Wheaton, “Finding”). The first book printed in Germany was the Guttenberg Bible in 1456 but, by 1490, printing was introduced into almost every European country (Tierney). The spread of literacy between 1500 and 1800, and the rise in silent reading, helped to create a new private sphere into which the individual could retreat, seeking refuge from the community (Chartier). This new technology had its effects in the world of cookery as in so many spheres of culture (Mennell, All Manners). Trubek notes that cookbooks are the texts most often used by culinary historians, since they usually contain all the requisite materials for analysing a cuisine: ingredients, method, technique, and presentation. Printed cookbooks, beginning in the early modern period, provide culinary historians with sources of evidence of the culinary past. Historians have argued that social differences can be expressed by the way and type of food we consume. Cookbooks are now widely accepted as valid socio-cultural and historic documents (Folch, Sherman), and indeed the link between literacy levels and the protestant tradition has been expressed through the study of Danish cookbooks (Gold). From Apicius, Taillevent, La Varenne, and Menon to Bradley, Smith, Raffald, Acton, and Beeton, how can both manuscript and printed cookbooks be analysed as historic documents? What is the difference between a manuscript and a printed cookbook? Barbara Ketchum Wheaton, who has been studying cookbooks for over half a century and is honorary curator of the culinary collection in Harvard’s Schlesinger Library, has developed a methodology to read historic cookbooks using a structured approach. For a number of years she has been giving seminars to scholars from multidisciplinary fields on how to read historic cookbooks. This paper draws on the author’s experiences attending Wheaton’s seminar in Harvard, and on supervising the use of this methodology at both Masters and Doctoral level (Cashman; Mac Con Iomaire, and Cashman). Manuscripts versus Printed Cookbooks A fundamental difference exists between manuscript and printed cookbooks in their relationship with the public and private domain. Manuscript cookbooks are by their very essence intimate, relatively unedited and written with an eye to private circulation. Culinary manuscripts follow the diurnal and annual tasks of the household. They contain recipes for cures and restoratives, recipes for cleansing products for the house and the body, as well as the expected recipes for cooking and preserving all manners of food. Whether manuscript or printed cookbook, the recipes contained within often act as a reminder of how laborious the production of food could be in the pre-industrialised world (White). Printed cookbooks draw oxygen from the very fact of being public. They assume a “literate population with sufficient discretionary income to invest in texts that commodify knowledge” (Folch). This process of commoditisation brings knowledge from the private to the public sphere. There exists a subset of cookbooks that straddle this divide, for example, Mrs. Rundell’s A New System of Domestic Cookery (1806), which brought to the public domain her distillation of a lifetime of domestic experience. Originally intended for her daughters alone, Rundell’s book was reprinted regularly during the nineteenth century with the last edition printed in 1893, when Mrs. Beeton had been enormously popular for over thirty years (Mac Con Iomaire, and Cashman). Barbara Ketchum Wheaton’s Structured Approach Cookbooks can be rewarding, surprising and illuminating when read carefully with due effort in understanding them as cultural artefacts. However, Wheaton notes that: “One may read a single old cookbook and find it immensely entertaining. One may read two and begin to find intriguing similarities and differences. When the third cookbook is read, one’s mind begins to blur, and one begins to sense the need for some sort of method in approaching these documents” (“Finding”). Following decades of studying cookbooks from both sides of the Atlantic and writing a seminal text on the French at table from 1300-1789 (Wheaton, Savouring the Past), this combined experience negotiating cookbooks as historical documents was codified, and a structured approach gradually articulated and shared within a week long seminar format. In studying any cookbook, regardless of era or country of origin, the text is broken down into five different groupings, to wit: ingredients; equipment or facilities; the meal; the book as a whole; and, finally, the worldview. A particular strength of Wheaton’s seminars is the multidisciplinary nature of the approaches of students who attend, which throws the study of cookbooks open to wide ranging techniques. Students with a purely scientific training unearth interesting patterns by developing databases of the frequency of ingredients or techniques, and cross referencing them with other books from similar or different timelines or geographical regions. Patterns are displayed in graphs or charts. Linguists offer their own unique lens to study cookbooks, whereas anthropologists and historians ask what these objects can tell us about how our ancestors lived and drew meaning from life. This process is continuously refined, and each grouping is discussed below. Ingredients The geographic origins of the ingredients are of interest, as is the seasonality and the cost of the foodstuffs within the scope of each cookbook, as well as the sensory quality both separately and combined within different recipes. In the medieval period, the use of spices and large joints of butchers meat and game were symbols of wealth and status. However, when the discovery of sea routes to the New World and to the Far East made spices more available and affordable to the middle classes, the upper classes spurned them. Evidence from culinary manuscripts in Georgian Ireland, for example, suggests that galangal was more easily available in Dublin during the eighteenth century than in the mid-twentieth century. A new aesthetic, articulated by La Varenne in his Le Cuisinier Francois (1651), heralded that food should taste of itself, and so exotic ingredients such as cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger were replaced by the local bouquet garni, and stocks and sauces became the foundations of French haute cuisine (Mac Con Iomaire). Some combinations of flavours and ingredients were based on humoral physiology, a long held belief system based on the writings of Hippocrates and Galen, now discredited by modern scientific understanding. The four humors are blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm. It was believed that each of these humors would wax and wane in the body, depending on diet and activity. Galen (131-201 AD) believed that warm food produced yellow bile and that cold food produced phlegm. It is difficult to fathom some combinations of ingredients or the manner of service without comprehending the contemporary context within they were consumeSome ingredients found in Roman cookbooks, such as “garum” or “silphium” are no longer available. It is suggested that the nearest substitute for garum also known as “liquamen”—a fermented fish sauce—would be Naam Plaa, or Thai fish sauce (Grainger). Ingredients such as tea and white bread, moved from the prerogative of the wealthy over time to become the staple of the urban poor. These ingredients, therefore, symbolise radically differing contexts during the seventeenth century than in the early twentieth century. Indeed, there are other ingredients such as hominy (dried maize kernel treated with alkali) or grahams (crackers made from graham flour) found in American cookbooks that require translation to the unacquainted non-American reader. There has been a growing number of food encyclopaedias published in recent years that assist scholars in identifying such commodities (Smith, Katz, Davidson). The Cook’s Workplace, Techniques, and Equipment It is important to be aware of the type of kitchen equipment used, the management of heat and cold within the kitchen, and also the gradual spread of the industrial revolution into the domestic sphere. Visits to historic castles such as Hampton Court Palace where nowadays archaeologists re-enact life below stairs in Tudor times give a glimpse as to how difficult and labour intensive food production was. Meat was spit-roasted in front of huge fires by spit boys. Forcemeats and purees were manually pulped using mortar and pestles. Various technological developments including spit-dogs, and mechanised pulleys, replaced the spit boys, the most up to date being the mechanised rotisserie. The technological advancements of two hundred years can be seen in the Royal Pavilion in Brighton where Marie-Antoinin Carême worked for the Prince Regent in 1816 (Brighton Pavilion), but despite the gleaming copper pans and high ceilings for ventilation, the work was still back breaking. Carême died aged forty-nine, “burnt out by the flame of his genius and the fumes of his ovens” (Ackerman 90). Mennell points out that his fame outlived him, resting on his books: Le Pâtissier Royal Parisien (1815); Le Pâtissier Pittoresque (1815); Le Maître d’Hôtel Français (1822); Le Cuisinier Parisien (1828); and, finally, L’Art de la Cuisine Française au Dix-Neuvième Siècle (1833–5), which was finished posthumously by his student Pluméry (All Manners). Mennell suggests that these books embody the first paradigm of professional French cuisine (in Kuhn’s terminology), pointing out that “no previous work had so comprehensively codified the field nor established its dominance as a point of reference for the whole profession in the way that Carême did” (All Manners 149). The most dramatic technological changes came after the industrial revolution. Although there were built up ovens available in bakeries and in large Norman households, the period of general acceptance of new cooking equipment that enclosed fire (such as the Aga stove) is from c.1860 to 1910, with gas ovens following in c.1910 to the 1920s) and Electricity from c.1930. New food processing techniques dates are as follows: canning (1860s), cooling and freezing (1880s), freeze drying (1950s), and motorised delivery vans with cooking (1920s–1950s) (den Hartog). It must also be noted that the supply of fresh food, and fish particularly, radically improved following the birth, and expansion of, the railways. To understand the context of the cookbook, one needs to be aware of the limits of the technology available to the users of those cookbooks. For many lower to middle class families during the twentieth century, the first cookbook they would possess came with their gas or electrical oven. Meals One can follow cooked dishes from the kitchen to the eating place, observing food presentation, carving, sequencing, and serving of the meal and table etiquette. Meal times and structure changed over time. During the Middle Ages, people usually ate two meals a day: a substantial dinner around noon and a light supper in the evening (Adamson). Some of the most important factors to consider are the manner in which meals were served: either à la française or à la russe. One of the main changes that occurred during the nineteenth century was the slow but gradual transfer from service à la française to service à la russe. From medieval times to the middle of the nineteenth century the structure of a formal meal was not by “courses”—as the term is now understood—but by “services”. Each service could comprise of a choice of dishes—both sweet and savoury—from which each guest could select what appealed to him or her most (Davidson). The philosophy behind this form of service was the forementioned humoral physiology— where each diner chose food based on the four humours of blood, yellow bile, black bile, or phlegm. Also known as le grand couvert, the à la française method made it impossible for the diners to eat anything that was beyond arm’s length (Blake, and Crewe). Smooth service, however, was the key to an effective à la russe dinner since servants controlled the flow of food (Eatwell). The taste and temperature of food took centre stage with the à la russe dinner as each course came in sequence. Many historic cookbooks offer table plans illustrating the suggested arrangement of dishes on a table for the à la française style of service. Many of these dishes might be re-used in later meals, and some dishes such as hashes and rissoles often utilised left over components of previous meals. There is a whole genre of cookbooks informing the middle class cooks how to be frugal and also how to emulate haute cuisine using cheaper or ersatz ingredients. The number dining and the manner in which they dined also changed dramatically over time. From medieval to Tudor times, there might be hundreds dining in large banqueting halls. By the Elizabethan age, a small intimate room where master and family dined alone replaced the old dining hall where master, servants, guests, and travellers had previously dined together (Spencer). Dining tables remained portable until the 1780s when tables with removable leaves were devised. By this time, the bread trencher had been replaced by one made of wood, or plate of pewter or precious metal in wealthier houses. Hosts began providing knives and spoons for their guests by the seventeenth century, with forks also appearing but not fully accepted until the eighteenth century (Mason). These silver utensils were usually marked with the owner’s initials to prevent their theft (Flandrin). Cookbooks as Objects and the World of Publishing A thorough examination of the manuscript or printed cookbook can reveal their physical qualities, including indications of post-publication history, the recipes and other matter in them, as well as the language, organization, and other individual qualities. What can the quality of the paper tell us about the book? Is there a frontispiece? Is the book dedicated to an employer or a patron? Does the author note previous employment history in the introduction? In his Court Cookery, Robert Smith, for example, not only mentions a number of his previous employers, but also outlines that he was eight years working with Patrick Lamb in the Court of King William, before revealing that several dishes published in Lamb’s Royal Cookery (1710) “were never made or practis’d (sic) by him and others are extreme defective and imperfect and made up of dishes unknown to him; and several of them more calculated at the purses than the Gôut of the guests”. Both Lamb and Smith worked for the English monarchy, nobility, and gentry, but produced French cuisine. Not all Britons were enamoured with France, however, with, for example Hannah Glasse asserting “if gentlemen will have French cooks, they must pay for French tricks” (4), and “So much is the blind folly of this age, that they would rather be imposed on by a French Booby, than give encouragement to an good English cook” (ctd. in Trubek 60). Spencer contextualises Glasse’s culinary Francophobia, explaining that whilst she was writing the book, the Jacobite army were only a few days march from London, threatening to cut short the Hanoverian lineage. However, Lehmann points out that whilst Glasse was overtly hostile to French cuisine, she simultaneously plagiarised its receipts. Based on this trickling down of French influences, Mennell argues that “there is really no such thing as a pure-bred English cookery book” (All Manners 98), but that within the assimilation and simplification, a recognisable English style was discernable. Mennell also asserts that Glasse and her fellow women writers had an enormous role in the social history of cooking despite their lack of technical originality (“Plagiarism”). It is also important to consider the place of cookbooks within the history of publishing. Albala provides an overview of the immense outpouring of dietary literature from the printing presses from the 1470s. He divides the Renaissance into three periods: Period I Courtly Dietaries (1470–1530)—targeted at the courtiers with advice to those attending banquets with many courses and lots of wine; Period II The Galenic Revival (1530–1570)—with a deeper appreciation, and sometimes adulation, of Galen, and when scholarship took centre stage over practical use. Finally Period III The Breakdown of Orthodoxy (1570–1650)—when, due to the ambiguities and disagreements within and between authoritative texts, authors were freer to pick the ideas that best suited their own. Nutrition guides were consistent bestsellers, and ranged from small handbooks written in the vernacular for lay audiences, to massive Latin tomes intended for practicing physicians. Albala adds that “anyone with an interest in food appears to have felt qualified to pen his own nutritional guide” (1). Would we have heard about Mrs. Beeton if her husband had not been a publisher? How could a twenty-five year old amass such a wealth of experience in household management? What role has plagiarism played in the history of cookbooks? It is interesting to note that a well worn copy of her book (Beeton) was found in the studio of Francis Bacon and it is suggested that he drew inspiration for a number of his paintings from the colour plates of animal carcasses and butcher’s meat (Dawson). Analysing the post-publication usage of cookbooks is valuable to see the most popular recipes, the annotations left by the owner(s) or user(s), and also if any letters, handwritten recipes, or newspaper clippings are stored within the leaves of the cookbook. The Reader, the Cook, the Eater The physical and inner lives and needs and skills of the individuals who used cookbooks and who ate their meals merit consideration. Books by their nature imply literacy. Who is the book’s audience? Is it the cook or is it the lady of the house who will dictate instructions to the cook? Numeracy and measurement is also important. Where clocks or pocket watches were not widely available, authors such as seventeenth century recipe writer Sir Kenelm Digby would time his cooking by the recitation of the Lord’s Prayer. Literacy amongst protestant women to enable them to read the Bible, also enabled them to read cookbooks (Gold). How did the reader or eater’s religion affect the food practices? Were there fast days? Were there substitute foods for fast days? What about special occasions? Do historic cookbooks only tell us about the food of the middle and upper classes? It is widely accepted today that certain cookbook authors appeal to confident cooks, while others appeal to competent cooks, and others still to more cautious cooks (Bilton). This has always been the case, as has the differentiation between the cookbook aimed at the professional cook rather than the amateur. Historically, male cookbook authors such as Patrick Lamb (1650–1709) and Robert Smith targeted the professional cook market and the nobility and gentry, whereas female authors such as Eliza Acton (1799–1859) and Isabella Beeton (1836–1865) often targeted the middle class market that aspired to emulate their superiors’ fashions in food and dining. How about Tavern or Restaurant cooks? When did they start to put pen to paper, and did what they wrote reflect the food they produced in public eateries? Conclusions This paper has offered an overview of Barbara Ketchum Wheaton’s methodology for reading historic cookbooks using a structured approach. It has highlighted some of the questions scholars and researchers might ask when faced with an old cookbook, regardless of era or geographical location. By systematically examining the book under the headings of ingredients; the cook’s workplace, techniques and equipment; the meals; cookbooks as objects and the world of publishing; and reader, cook and eater, the scholar can perform magic and extract much more from the cookbook than seems to be there on first appearance. References Ackerman, Roy. The Chef's Apprentice. London: Headline, 1988. Adamson, Melitta Weiss. Food in Medieval Times. Westport, Connecticut: Greenwood P, 2004. Albala, Ken. Eating Right in the Renaissance. Ed. Darra Goldstein. Berkeley: U of California P, 2002. Beeton, Isabella. Beeton's Book of Household Management. London: S. Beeton, 1861. Bilton, Samantha. “The Influence of Cookbooks on Domestic Cooks, 1900-2010.” Petit Propos Culinaires 94 (2011): 30–7. Blake, Anthony, and Quentin Crewe. Great Chefs of France. London: Mitchell Beazley/ Artists House, 1978. Brighton Pavilion. 12 Jun. 2013 ‹http://www.guardian.co.uk/artanddesign/interactive/2011/sep/09/brighton-pavilion-360-interactive-panoramic›. Cashman, Dorothy. “An Exploratory Study of Irish Cookbooks.” Unpublished Master's Thesis. M.Sc. Dublin: Dublin Institute of Technology, 2009. Chartier, Roger. “The Practical Impact of Writing.” Trans. Arthur Goldhammer. A History of Private Lives: Volume III: Passions of the Renaissance. Ed. Roger Chartier. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Belknap P of Harvard U, 1989. 111-59. Davidson, Alan. The Oxford Companion to Food. New York: Oxford U P, 1999. Dawson, Barbara. “Francis Bacon and the Art of Food.” The Irish Times 6 April 2013. den Hartog, Adel P. “Technological Innovations and Eating out as a Mass Phenomenon in Europe: A Preamble.” Eating out in Europe: Picnics, Gourmet Dining and Snacks since the Late Eighteenth Century. Eds. Mark Jacobs and Peter Scholliers. Oxford: Berg, 2003. 263–80. Eatwell, Ann. “Á La Française to À La Russe, 1680-1930.” Elegant Eating: Four Hundred Years of Dining in Style. Eds. Philippa Glanville and Hilary Young. London: V&A, 2002. 48–52. Flandrin, Jean-Louis. “Distinction through Taste.” Trans. Arthur Goldhammer. A History of Private Lives: Volume III : Passions of the Renaissance. Ed. Roger Chartier. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Belknap P of Harvard U, 1989. 265–307. Folch, Christine. “Fine Dining: Race in Pre-revolution Cuban Cookbooks.” Latin American Research Review 43.2 (2008): 205–23. Glasse, Hannah. The Art of Cookery Made Plain and Easy; Which Far Exceeds Anything of the Kind Ever Published. 4th Ed. London: The Author, 1745. Gold, Carol. Danish Cookbooks: Domesticity and National Identity, 1616-1901. Seattle: U of Washington P, 2007. Grainger, Sally. Cooking Apicius: Roman Recipes for Today. Totnes, Devon: Prospect, 2006. Hampton Court Palace. “The Tudor Kitchens.” 12 Jun 2013 ‹http://www.hrp.org.uk/HamptonCourtPalace/stories/thetudorkitchens› Katz, Solomon H. Ed. Encyclopedia of Food and Culture (3 Vols). New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 2003. Kuhn, T. S. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1962. Lamb, Patrick. Royal Cookery:Or. The Complete Court-Cook. London: Abel Roper, 1710. Lehmann, Gilly. “English Cookery Books in the 18th Century.” The Oxford Companion to Food. Ed. Alan Davidson. Oxford: Oxford U P, 1999. 277–9. Mac Con Iomaire, Máirtín. “The Changing Geography and Fortunes of Dublin’s Haute Cuisine Restaurants 1958–2008.” Food, Culture & Society 14.4 (2011): 525–45. Mac Con Iomaire, Máirtín, and Dorothy Cashman. “Irish Culinary Manuscripts and Printed Cookbooks: A Discussion.” Petit Propos Culinaires 94 (2011): 81–101. Mason, Laura. Food Culture in Great Britain. Ed. Ken Albala. Westport CT.: Greenwood P, 2004. Mennell, Stephen. All Manners of Food. 2nd ed. Chicago: U of Illinois P, 1996. ---. “Plagiarism and Originality: Diffusionism in the Study of the History of Cookery.” Petits Propos Culinaires 68 (2001): 29–38. Sherman, Sandra. “‘The Whole Art and Mystery of Cooking’: What Cookbooks Taught Readers in the Eighteenth Century.” Eighteenth Century Life 28.1 (2004): 115–35. Smith, Andrew F. Ed. The Oxford Companion to American Food and Drink. New York: Oxford U P, 2007. Spencer, Colin. British Food: An Extraordinary Thousand Years of History. London: Grub Street, 2004. Tierney, Mark. Europe and the World 1300-1763. Dublin: Gill and Macmillan, 1970. Trubek, Amy B. Haute Cuisine: How the French Invented the Culinary Profession. Philadelphia: U of Pennsylvania P, 2000. Wheaton, Barbara. “Finding Real Life in Cookbooks: The Adventures of a Culinary Historian”. 2006. Humanities Research Group Working Paper. 9 Sep. 2009 ‹http://www.phaenex.uwindsor.ca/ojs/leddy/index.php/HRG/article/view/22/27›. Wheaton, Barbara Ketcham. Savouring the Past: The French Kitchen and Table from 1300-1789. London: Chatto & Windus, 1983. White, Eileen, ed. The English Cookery Book: Historical Essays. Proceedings of the 16th Leeds Symposium on Food History 2001. Devon: Prospect, 2001.

幽默是人類社會的一種普遍現象，是人們言語交際的一部分，在日常生活中無處不在。研究者們對幽默的研究涵蓋了心理學、哲學、社會學、人類學、神學、文化學等不同的領域。幽默被認為是最難研究的課題之一，翻譯幽默更是難上加難。我們至今對言語幽默的文本語言特徵、對言語幽默的譯文的文本語言特徵、對涉及言語幽默的翻譯過程知之不多。在言語幽默的翻譯中，有時候原文的幽默信息在譯文中完全保留，有時候則不能，原因何在，有關這方面的研究至今不多見；以漢語幽默文本的英譯為語料建立單向平行語料庫，探討漢語言語幽默英譯的一般及特殊規律的研究，尚無人做過，這正是本研究的目的所在。
本研究以錢鍾書的小說《圍城》及其英譯本為語料，運用言語幽默概論的理論框架，建立原文和譯文對照的雙語單向平行語料庫，采用語料庫檢索的方法，對語料進行描寫與分析，得出了“譯文要傳遞原文幽默信息需要保留或轉換原文的表層及深層參數特徵，特別是深層參數的腳本對立、表層參數的修辭手段及語言中的本源概念的研究結論。
主要研究結果有三：
一是展示了言語幽默翻譯的一般規律，即“譯文需要保留原文中的腳本對立；
二是展現了漢語言語幽默翻譯的特殊規律，即“要保留原文中的腳本對立，就需要轉換漢語所特有的修辭手段和漢語本源概念；
三是顯示了漢語言語幽默的文本語言特徵，即，漢語言語幽默具有表層和深層的參數特徵。表層參數的核心是修辭手段，深層參數的核心是腳本對立；表層參數具有“相似性之奇特統一、“語言要素之巧妙轉移和“不和諧邏輯間之和諧三大特徵；深層參數具有“真實的與非真實的語境對立、“正常的與非正常的語境對立、“合理與不合理的語境對立三大特徵，反映了現實與經驗、話語現實與語言經驗、話語邏輯與正常邏輯的矛盾衝突。
Humour is regarded as a universal human phenomenon, and funny situations, funny stories, even funny thoughts occur everyday to virtually everybody (Raskin 1985: 1). Humour represents a multidisciplinary and fertile research field. So is Translation Studies. Both draw from linguistics, psychology and sociology, among other disciplines, for their descriptions and their theoretical models and constructs (Zabalbeascoa 2005: 185). What is surprising is that the link between translation and humour has not received sufficient attention from scholars in either field (ibid).
This research attempts to explore how Chinese humorous texts are transferred into English and what factors affect humour transference in the target text, with a focus on the universality of the translation process, by tapping on fresh methodologies of modern Translation Studies such as bilingual corpora and the General Theory of Verbal Humor. The bilingual corpus for the research is from Wei Cheng (Fortress Besieged) (1947/1991/2003), a humorous fiction by the Chinese writer Ch’ien Chung-shu (1910-1998) and its English translation by Jeanne Kelly and Nathan K. Mao (1979/2003). Adopting the General Theory of Verbal Humour (GTVH) (Attardo & Raskin 1991; Attardo 1994, 2001) as the theoretical framework, the research makes a quantitative and qualitative analysis on the samplings from the corpus and obtains some encouraging findings as follows:
(a) Transference of humour in the source text to the target text needs transference of the Script Opposition embedded in the deep parameters of the source text, which shows the universality of translating Chinese verbal humour into English;
(b) More specifically, transference of the Script Opposition embedded in the deep parameters requires transference of specific Chinese rhetoric devices and socioculturally-bound Chinese alien sources in the target text;
(c) Chinese verbal humour has three features in the surface parameters and three features in the deep parameters, which shows the textual characteristics of Chinese verbal humour. The surface parameters show the features of similarity among quite different things, transference among quite different linguistic elements and congruity among incongruous logical elements. The deep parameters show the following three features: opposition between real and unreal situations; opposition between normal and abnormal situations, opposition between possible, plausible and fully or partially impossible or much less plausible situations.
The research draws a conclusion that verbal humour may travel from one culture to another via translation if the target text successfully transfers the Script Opposition embedded in the deep parameters of the source text, the Rhetorical Device in the surface parameters and the alien concepts hidden in the Language Parameter.
Detailed summary in vernacular field only.
Detailed summary in vernacular field only.
Detailed summary in vernacular field only.
Detailed summary in vernacular field only.
Detailed summary in vernacular field only.
Detailed summary in vernacular field only.
戈玲玲.
Sumitted date: 2011年12月.
Sumitted date: 2011 nian 12 yue.
Thesis (Ph.D.)--Chinese University of Hong Kong, 2012.
Includes bibliographical references (leaves 307-319)
Electronic reproduction. Hong Kong : Chinese University of Hong Kong, [2012] System requirements: Adobe Acrobat Reader. Available via World Wide Web.
Abstracts in Chinese and English.
Ge Lingling.
摘要 --- p.i
前言 --- p.vi
目錄 --- p.vii
圖表目錄 --- p.x
Chapter 第一章 --- 導論 --- p.1
Chapter 1.1 --- 研究目的 --- p.2
Chapter 1.2 --- 原文及作者簡介 --- p.7
Chapter 1.3 --- 《圍城》的外文譯本 --- p.14
Chapter 1.4 --- 對《圍城》及其英譯本的研究 --- p.16
Chapter 1.5 --- 論文結構 --- p.20
Chapter 第二章 --- 幽默評述及研究 --- p.22
Chapter 2.1 --- 詞典中對幽默的定义 --- p.22
Chapter 2.2 --- 前人對幽默的評述與研究 --- p.27
Chapter 2.2.1 --- 西方的評述與研究 --- p.27
Chapter 2.2.2 --- 中國的評述與研究 --- p.31
Chapter 2.2.2.1 --- 林語堂、錢鍾書論幽默 --- p.32
Chapter 2.2.2.2 --- 其他評述與研究 --- p.34
Chapter 2.3 --- 言語幽默的可譯性 --- p.37
Chapter 2.4 --- 小結 --- p.42
Chapter 第三章 --- 理論框架 --- p.44
Chapter 3.1 --- 語義腳本理論 --- p.44
Chapter 3.2 --- 言語幽默概論 --- p.48
Chapter 3.2.1 --- 六個參數 --- p.50
Chapter 3.2.1.1 --- 四個必要參數 --- p.51
Chapter 3.2.1.2 --- 兩個可選參數 --- p.59
Chapter 3.2.2 --- 六個參數的層級排列：言語幽默相似度測量系統 --- p.65
Chapter 3.3 --- 言語幽默概論運用於幽默翻譯研究：Attardo（2002） --- p.70
Chapter 3.4 --- 理論框架的延伸 --- p.73
Chapter 3.4.1 --- 漢語特有的修辞手段 --- p.74
Chapter 3.4.2 --- 言語幽默語段的表層參數和深層參數 --- p.76
Chapter 3.4.2.1 --- 表層參數 --- p.78
Chapter 3.4.2.2 --- 深層參數 --- p.84
Chapter 3.5 --- 小結 --- p.87
Chapter 第四章 --- 《圍城》中幽默語段及其英譯本的雙語平行語料庫 --- p.89
Chapter 4.1 --- 抽樣過程 --- p.90
Chapter 4.1.1 --- 《圍城》及其英譯本讀者問卷調查 --- p.90
Chapter 4.1.2 --- 理論參數 --- p.91
Chapter 4.2 --- 建立語料庫 --- p.92
Chapter 4.3 --- 標注漢英對應文本 --- p.94
Chapter 4.3.1 --- 技術性標注 --- p.94
Chapter 4.3.2 --- 理論參數標注 --- p.95
Chapter 4.3.3 --- 本源概念及其翻譯策略的標注 --- p.97
Chapter 4.4 --- 檢索漢英對應文本 --- p.99
Chapter 4.4.1 --- 檢索編程 --- p.100
Chapter 4.4.2 --- 檢索功能 --- p.102
Chapter 4.5 --- 標注的誤差測定 --- p.114
Chapter 4.6 --- 小結 --- p.117
Chapter 第五章 --- 原文中言語幽默語段的分析 --- p.118
Chapter 5.1 --- 原文幽默語段的表層特徵 --- p.118
Chapter 5.1.1 --- 表層特徵一：相似性之奇特統一 --- p.119
Chapter 5.1.2 --- 表層特徵二：語言要素之巧妙轉移 --- p.129
Chapter 5.1.3 --- 表層特徵三：不和諧邏輯間之和諧 --- p.138
Chapter 5.2 --- 原文幽默語段的深層特徵 --- p.143
Chapter 5.3 --- 不規範的參數類型 --- p.149
Chapter 5.4 --- 表層與深層特徵的對應關係 --- p.160
Chapter 5.5 --- 小結 --- p.169
Chapter 第六章 --- 英譯本分析 --- p.171
Chapter 6.1 --- 英譯本的表層特徵 --- p.172
Chapter 6.1.1 --- 譯文表層特徵一：相似性之奇特統一 --- p.172
Chapter 6.1.2 --- 譯文表層特徵二：語言要素之巧妙轉移 --- p.182
Chapter 6.1.3 --- 譯文表層特徵三：不和諧邏輯間之和諧 --- p.186
Chapter 6.2. --- 英譯本的深層特徵 --- p.186
Chapter 6.3 --- 不規範的參數類型 --- p.194
Chapter 6.4 --- 譯文表層與深層特徵的對應關係 --- p.212
Chapter 6.5 --- 小結 --- p.222
Chapter 第七章 --- 譯文、原文對比分析 --- p.224
Chapter 7.1 --- 譯文、原文總體對比 --- p.224
Chapter 7.2 --- 譯文、原文分類對比 --- p.226
Chapter 7.2.1 --- 同型轉換 --- p.227
Chapter 7.2.2 --- 異型轉換 --- p.229
Chapter 7.3 --- 譯文、原文表層參數與深層參數的異同對比 --- p.231
Chapter 7.4 --- 譯文、原文表層與深層特徵對比 --- p.234
Chapter 7.5 --- 譯文、原文參數的層級排列對比 --- p.235
Chapter 7.5.1 --- 參數層級排列與原文的參數排列對比 --- p.235
Chapter 7.5.2 --- 參數層級排列與譯文的參數排列對比 --- p.237
Chapter 7.5.3 --- 譯文、原文中六個參數的層級排列對比 --- p.239
Chapter 7.6 --- 小結 --- p.241
Chapter 第八章 --- 《圍城》中言語幽默的英譯策略 --- p.243
Chapter 8.1 --- 同型轉換時的翻譯策略 --- p.244
Chapter 8.2 --- 異型轉換時的翻譯策略--譯文仍然是幽默語段 --- p.259
Chapter 8.3 --- 異型轉換時的翻譯策略--譯文不是幽默語段 --- p.267
Chapter 8.4 --- 小結暨討論 --- p.282
Chapter 第九章 --- 結論 --- p.286
Chapter 9.1 --- 研究結果 --- p.286
Chapter 9.2 --- 研究局限 --- p.291
Chapter 9.3 --- 研究前景 --- p.292
附錄一 --- p.294
參考文獻 --- p.307

Readers’ cultural expectations regarding literary masterpieces can hamper their experience of humor. This chapter studies the passage in Chrétien de Troyes’ Yvain in which the knight’s faithful lion is said to run like a frantic hog. This simile is so surprising that it has generally been ignored not only by medievalists but also by medieval translators of Chrétien’s Yvain. Yet its potential humor is highly significant, as its disruptive quality constitutes an astute response to the already disruptive thrust of Ovid’s legend of Pyramus and Thisbe. The comparative and intertextual approach of this chapter brings together, on the one hand, Chrétien’s romance with its translations in Middle English, Old Norse, and Old Swedish, and on the other hand, Ovid’s seminal legend with its medieval adaptations by Chaucer, Gower, Boccaccio, and the anonymous author of the Old French Piramus et Tisbé. In every work, the dynamics of perception and cognition are central to the plot.

Following a brief discussion of what constitutes a ‘good’ translation, this chapter seeks to demonstrate how the translation of Katherine Mansfield’s fiction into French is a complex process, which has rarely been executed well. There are fundamental problems in translating fiction such as Mansfield’s, where literary nuances such as the use of free indirect discourse, her very precise punctuation, together with her particular brand of humour, which includes specific idiolects, seldom survive translation from English to French. An examination will also be made of more than one translation of the same text, where such translations exist, to determine whether these newer translations offer a more accurate rendering of Mansfield’s original texts.

The current paper takes a comparative look at a selection of Japanese proverbs and their translation into English to their Romanian equivalents. The English translation belongs to David Galeff, the author of the book ‘Japanese Proverbs. Wit and Wisdom’ from which stems the selection of proverbs which are the object of the current analysis. The Romanian translation applies two methods. It tries to find an equivalent in Romanian, both in terms of wit i.e. wording or sense and in terms of wisdom i.e. meaning or reference. As such the two perspectives of analysis are semantic and pragmatic. The aim is firstly to find an equivalent in meaning and reference to a relevant wisdom inspired by reality and life. If such an equivalent is not found, alternative translations are attempted using other translation procedures, such as modulation or even adaptation. The theoretical framework used is the one Vinay and Dalbernet outlined in their ‘Comparative Stylistics of French and English: A Methodology for Translation’. This is a translational attempt to look towards the East and towards the West and see how different and how similar they are in the way they understand life and express that understanding. The aim of the analysis is to see to what extent it can identify corresponding ways of wording or equivalent forms of expression in Romanian for the wit and the wisdom incapsulated in the Japanese proverbs, via the English language

The contemporary Czech poet using the pseudonym Ewald Murrer (born in 1964 in Prague) used to be a representative of Czech underground literature before 1989. Then he became one of the most specific and original artists of his generation. The present essay deals with his very successful collection of poetry called The Diary of Mr. Pinke (1991, English translation published in 2022). Between the world wars, the most Eastern part of Czechoslovakia was so-called Subcarpathian Ruthenia (or Karpatenukraine in German). This rural and somewhat secluded region neighbouring Austrian Galicia (or Galizien in German) in the very West of Ukraine and the South- East of Poland used to be a centre of Jewish culture using mainly Yiddish and inspired by local folklore. The poems of Ewald Murrer are deeply rooted in the imagery of Jewish and Rusyn fairy tales and folk songs. While Marc Chagall, the famous French painter (coming from today�s Byelorussia), discovered these old sources of Jewish art for European Modernism, Ewald Murrer uses the same sources but his approach to literary creation can be seen as much more post-modern: he uses but at the same time also re-evaluates old myths and archetypes of this region with both a lovely kind of humour and more serious visions of Kafkaesque absurdity that are probably unavoidable in Central Europe. The fictional and highly poetic diary of Mr. Pinke is highly significant as a sophisticated revival of the almost forgotten culture of a Central European region that almost definitely stopped existing after the tragic times of the Holocaust and Stalinism.

The contemporary Czech poet using the pseudonym Ewald Murrer (born in 1964 in Prague) used to be a representative of Czech underground literature before 1989. Then he became one of the most specific and original artists of his generation. The present essay deals with his very successful collection of poetry called The Diary of Mr. Pinke (1991, English translation published in 2022). Between the world wars, the most Eastern part of Czechoslovakia was so-called Subcarpathian Ruthenia (or Karpatenukraine in German). This rural and somewhat secluded region neighbouring Austrian Galicia (or Galizien in German) in the very West of Ukraine and the South- East of Poland used to be a centre of Jewish culture using mainly Yiddish and inspired by local folklore. The poems of Ewald Murrer are deeply rooted in the imagery of Jewish and Rusyn fairy tales and folk songs. While Marc Chagall, the famous French painter (coming from today�s Byelorussia), discovered these old sources of Jewish art for European Modernism, Ewald Murrer uses the same sources but his approach to literary creation can be seen as much more post-modern: he uses but at the same time also re-evaluates old myths and archetypes of this region with both a lovely kind of humour and more serious visions of Kafkaesque absurdity that are probably unavoidable in Central Europe. The fictional and highly poetic diary of Mr. Pinke is highly significant as a sophisticated revival of the almost forgotten culture of a Central European region that almost definitely stopped existing after the tragic times of the Holocaust and Stalinism.