Susan Pickford
Professor of translation studies at the University of Geneva and academic translator. Recent books: Professional Translators in 19th-c France and Translating Science in the 18th & 19th c. Now working on an industry guide for aspiring book translators.
Susan can be found at:
Bluesky: @libripotens.bsky.social
What drew you to literary translation, and what do you find most rewarding about it?
I got started after a short stint in publishing in Paris in the early 2000s. It’s a great intellectual challenge, and I have made lifelong friends from it.
How do you select the texts you want to translate? What are your criteria?
95% of the time, the work seeks me out. I translate far less these days, but I would only turn a book down on ethical grounds. I did turn down a 9/11 conspiracy book in the early days of my career. It was translated, anonymously as far as I recall, and sold like hot cakes. But absolutely no regrets on that score.
Do you ever collaborate with the author during the translation process? If so, what is that like?
Occasionally. Sometimes it’s a delight, sometimes it has been a chore. It depends how much respect they have for the process.
What are the biggest challenges you face as a literary translator?
Finding the time, these days. I am a big advocate of seeing it as work, and therefore the challenges have to include things like stagnant rates, short lead-in times, and unrealistic deadlines. Another thing is what counts as literary translation. 95% of the work I do is non-fiction, and that is very often overlooked in literary translation discourse – unfairly, in my view, as it’s just as creative. The juggernaut of AI is also somewhat concerning.
translated by Susan Pickford
Do you read the book multiple times before translating?
No. I don’t have time for that. I just dive straight in. In some cases, the book is still being written when I start so I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I regularly have to retranslate bits that have been rewritten or re-edited in the original (or even, in one memorable case, censored).
Do you translate in the order it is written?
Yes, no reason not to as far as I can see, unless it’s still being written. See above.
Are there any stylistic choices that you find particularly difficult to replicate?
I quite like having a crack at puns and jokes. The toughest thing I find to handle is metalanguage about language, when a text refers to its own use of language or when it unpacks the literal meaning of a metaphorical expression. But that crops up pretty rarely in the kinds of texts I work on.
Do you ever find yourself having to make choices that might deviate from the literal meaning, and how do you justify those choices?
Constantly! I don’t sweat it, to be honest, particularly in non-fiction. I see it as my job to provide a more or less equivalent reading experience in English, which might mean making some aspects more implicit or more explicit than the original. For instance, if a French text refers to some figure from history that will mean little to an Anglo reader, it’s no big deal to slip in a few words of explanation. I also cut a lot, depending on the type of writing. Some languages, like Italian and Spanish, have a far higher tolerance of repetition to create textual cohesion. That reads massively clunkily in English, so I will strip all the repetition out and just use pronouns to guide the reader from concept to concept. My record is going from 44 words in Spanish to 4 in English.
Can you share an example of a particularly challenging passage you’ve translated and how you approached it?
In one recent project, two characters had bonded over a shared trauma, often speaking but never seeing each other. When they did finally meet, one said to the other “on peut se tutoyer”? It’s a question signalling a shift from formal to informal. You’d usually ask someone quite soon in your relationship, to establish the boundaries of familiarity early on. The go-to for that shift from formal to informal would usually be something like “Can I call you Hélène?” but in this case they’d been speaking, and using each other’s names, for months already. Because of the shared history of trauma, I decided to have one character reach for the other’s hand as a gesture of fondness and moral support. Another similar case (unpublished!) involved lads teasing a garden centre apprentice with a supposedly posh name by using the more formal vous form. For that I described them as tugging pretend forelocks.
What advice would you give to someone who is considering becoming a literary translator?
Look out for the book of advice for newbie translators I am writing at the moment! Seven chapters down, two to go. It should be out some time next year from Routledge, if all goes well.
