“Have you noticed that translators don’t read for pleasure?” asked a smiley blonde woman (who later turned out to be the owner of a notoriously bad-paying translation agency) at a translation conference not so long ago. No, I haven’t noticed, actually. But maybe that’s just me.
When I was in the fifth grade, our teacher asked us to make a list of all the books we’d ever read. My list was so long she actually accused me of lying in front of my whole class. “You’re already an A student, Paula. You don’t have to lie to impress anyone,” she said. It wouldn’t be the first time I went home crying, I was after all a huge nerd. But it was only one of two times my parents intervened in my defense by talking to my teacher about how many hours I would spend reading every day after school (when I wasn’t collecting and classifying bugs with my friend Alvin).
Books have the power to elevate the philosophical wonder of human existence to new heights. In our everyday lives, we are who we are. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’m Paula, a random person experiencing existence in a vast continuum that is beyond my comprehension. I’m also Paula, the translator. Paula, the silly person who likes bugs, but not spiders. Paula, the professor. Paula, my mother’s daughter. Paula, the blogger. All these labels say nothing and everything about me at the same time. But sometimes, I’m Paula, the anonymous reader; and someone somewhere in time and space reached out to me through their writing.
In that quasi magical moment when I read what they wrote, when I loved or hated their writing, when I was inspired or frightened by it, when I thought I was reading a load of BS or felt the author pierce my soul, in that second, we were connected. Reading is, to me, the rawest form of genuine communication with that “other” who is or was as real as I am, but has been reduced to words on a piece of paper and at the same time transformed into whatever my mind makes of those words.
Reading is simultaneously as empowering as it is humbling, like looking up at the stars or contemplating a mountain. It shows us that our deepest thoughts and feelings have been felt and thought millions of times before and will be felt and thought millions of times again. It reminds us there’s so much more to the human experience than just mere survival; that our individual lives, though unique, are subject to the same endless cycles as those of everyone else; that being human means being mortal, living with wonder, and perhaps dying with regrets; that our hearts will be broken; that our faith will be tested and sometimes even shattered; that our questions will go unanswered; that we are all part of this huge mess called “life” and nobody really understands it, but we all have strong opinions about it, some of which are frozen in time in the form of books.
As you can see, I like books. So when I was invited to the Guadalajara Book Fair (FIL) to participate in a panel discussion for translators and publishers, I was thrilled. When I was then asked to also submit a proposal for the OMT Conference, which actually takes place at the book fair, I was even more delighted! Now, almost two months later, I still think the OMT Conference was the best translation conference in 2016.
At the conference, my friend Mercedes Guhl received a special recognition for her hard work and dedication to the conference and to the Organization itself. It’s always nice to see someone you care about and admire receive the recognition they deserve for their overall awesomeness. I was happy to see Mercedes accept her special recognition with her characteristic combination of grace and genuine humility. I’d like to see other organizations to which she’s made equally significant contributions follow suit one day (hint hint, ATA).
I also had the honor of participating in two panel discussions. In the first panel, moderated by Mercedes Guhl, Tony Rosado, Helen Eby and I discussed translation and blogging. Tony’s is perhaps one of the most influential blogs on Interpretation and Helen actually runs several excellent blogs including, among others, the Saavy Newcomer and Cuatro Mosqueteras.
In the second panel, moderated by the brilliant English and Spanish to French translator and journalist Catherine Pizani, I had the chance to discuss best practices between authors, publishers and translators alongside Lisa Carter, Stacey McKenna (both from Intralingo), and English to Spanish literary translator Patricia Oliver.
My mind was blown away by some of the sessions, which were intelligently organized by topic into what appeared to be groups of 2 to 3 thematically linked modules. So, for example, one three-session module analyzed translation as follows: translation as communication, translation as reading, translation as writing. Other modules were translation and academia, translation and technology, translation from regional points of view, etc. There was not a single session in which the words being spoken were not well worth my time. From Francisco Navarro’s opening speech to Marta Stelmaszak-Rosa’s closing address I was captivated. I knew I was in a place where words mattered; books mattered; language mattered; translation mattered; our profession mattered. At a time when it seems our profession is drowning in attempts to deintellectualize, commoditize and deprofessionalize what we do, the OMT Conference was a breath of fresh air.