Abstract
As a French-to-English translator of expository prose in the humanities and social sciences, I was intrigued when Harvard University Press offered me the opportunity to translate Bruno Latour’s Nous n’avons jamais été modernes in the early 1990s. I was unfamiliar with the author and his work when I first received the offer, but by the time of our first meeting I had learned enough about Latour’s importance in his field to feel somewhat intimidated. Bruno put me at ease right away, however, with what I came to know as his customary thoughtfulness and kindness. The project was my primary focus during a sabbatical year in Paris; as the manuscript progressed, I had the privilege of working closely with Bruno in his office at the École des Mines. From the beginning, I was impressed by his openness to dialogue about his text as it emerged in English. While he tended to disparage the quality of his own spoken and written English, I quickly realized that his command of the language as a reader, at least, was exemplary (I subsequently realized that he was a formidably sophisticated speaker of English as well). Acutely sensitive to the subtleties of expression in both French and English, and to the inevitable points of divergence that can make literal translation inappropriate or impossible, he understood the challenges translators face and was prepared to play a fully collaborative role. Without ever insisting on a particular formulation, he often came up with helpful alternative solutions to daunting problems, and he was unfailingly generous in his appreciation for my work.
It was a pleasant surprise, then, to be offered a second opportunity to work with Bruno, this time on the translation of his Aramis. And there were more surprises in store. Constructed as a sort of Holmes-and-Watson investigation into the ultimate rejection of a promising development involving driverless trains, this book features plausible but imagined dialogues among key players and convincing but fabricated documents, including an excerpt from a U.S. Senate hearing: it allowed me to glimpse the pleasures of translating fiction!
Over the next three decades, I was happy to be asked by Bruno to translate several more of his books, including the daunting Inquiry into Modes of Existence and the urgently timely Facing Gaia, with its sequel, Down to Earth. In each case, the working process remained highly collaborative. Here are excerpts from a September 2016 message sent after he had reviewed a completed draft of Facing Gaia (I have lightly edited the English): I have made a color code: yellow is an alternative on which you have to decide what is best (often it is about euphony or because a similar word has been used earlier etc.); light green is what I think is a mistranslation and where I think my version is better (we will settle those when we meet in case you are in disagreement) … In rare instances I have inverted sentences and one time paragraphs. This is because the flow of argument is better. In a very few cases I have added precision and rhythm – which were missing in French. You may review of course those decisions in case they are not colloquial but I’d like you to accept them as much as possible. Now it is the English text that should be the authoritative one.
And from a January 2018 message about Down to Earth: I made changes when I thought that the text could be lighter. In general the tone should be crisp, colloquial and the pace quick, so whenever I saw a possibility I proposed a change. This being said you are in charge and they are ALL reversible. I also of course answered your own comments. I tried to limit some of the “we” that are there to translate the pesky French “on” … The idea is that the author is not visible before the last section so for once impersonal forms are okay. A situation is described. Period.
Our collaborations, facilitated over time by email and Zoom, were punctuated by enjoyable social contacts, friendly dinners with our spouses, colleagues, or students in Paris, Ithaca, or New York. These sustained connections enabled me to follow the upward trajectory of Bruno’s career, to appreciate in diverse circumstances the contagious energy he put into collective work with students and colleagues, and to engage with the expansive progression of his resolutely interdisciplinary thought. While I have learned a great deal from all the accomplished and influential authors whose texts I have translated, I can say that Bruno’s work more than any other has modified – via the actor-network concept, for example, and his development of the Gaia metaphor – the way I understand the world we live in and our responsibilities toward the entities with which we share it. He was acutely aware of the work of American feminists – Donna Haraway perhaps foremost among them – who explore the implications of le vivant and militate for the rights of living species lacking the power to speak for themselves. He was steadfastly committed to a world of hospitality and generous thinking that he worked tirelessly to open up to others. Along with my deep sadness at his loss, I want to express my enduring gratitude.