QWF’s latest featured member is translator and filmmaker Donald Winkler.
Donald Winkler was born in Winnipeg in 1940; got a degree in English Lit at the University of Manitoba; travelled some; joined the National Film Board in Montreal in 1967; directed 30 or so films, mostly cultural documentaries, at the National Film Board and later as a freelancer; started translating in the 1980s; has translated 50 or so books from French to English, including fiction, nonfiction and poetry; and was awarded the Governor General’s Award for literary translation on three occasions. His most recent translation is The Harmattan Winds by Sylvain Trudel, published by Archipelago Books.
QWF Membership Services Coordinator Riley Palanca spoke to Donald about his work and how he became a translator. Here are Five Questions for Donald Winkler:
1. Pablo Neruda’s 1971 Nobel Prize sparked debate partly because of the English translations by Ben Belitt, who was known to take liberties with the original text, and of how, for many readers, Neruda’s poetry was encountered first (and perhaps only) in English. As a translator, how do you approach the tension between poetic fidelity and creative interpretation?
I recently came across a passage in a letter from Elizabeth Bishop, who was not enthusiastic about having her poetry translated. She felt that a successful translation could only be an “accident,” presumably occurring when the literal translation just happened to work as poetry, and clearly not welcoming any liberties. As a translator of poetry, I of course do not agree. Although I try to hew to the original as much as possible, given the exigencies of rhythm, music, and sense, I allow myself a certain modicum of flexibility to make a poem work. As Sheila Fischman has said, “I see us as prospectors who seek beyond the gold, searching for what lies behind what lies behind the words.” More than a stringent adherence to the letter of the text, it is the evocation of what lies behind the words that counts. And the path there can sometimes be somewhat circuitous.
2. Speaking of Sheila Fischman, who is not only a renowned translator like you but also your partner, what has it been like to share a life and profession? Has it deepened your understanding of the craft or occasionally tested it?
Before I formally began translating, Sheila and I tried collaborating on a text by Gilles Vigneault. We argued over words and resolved never to try that again. Much later, we did collaborate on a couple of memoirs by Jean Chrétien. One did a rough draft, the other edited, then we got together to refine the whole thing, and it was a lot of fun. I’d been privy to Sheila’s work and working habits for years, and my respect and admiration was beyond bounds. It remains so. And it made me a humble translator.
3. You’ve spoken about never formally studying translation. What experiences or turning points shaped your growth into one of Canada’s most prolific literary translators?
It’s a matter of happenstance. In my forties, I had been directing cultural documentaries at the National Film Board (NFB) for years, when Sheila received a call from Barry Callaghan at Exile Editions, asking if she would translate a long poem by the Quebec poet Roland Giguère for his revue. She had to tell him, “Sorry, I don’t translate poetry.” Then she said, to my surprise, “But I think I know someone who might be able to help you.” That was me. I took the challenge. My translation of that one poem led to the publication of a selection of his work in English, Rose and Thorn. It was well received, and one thing followed another. That first book is still available from Exile.
4. Most of your films are artist-centered documentaries. What draws you to artists as your subjects?
There was a time at the NFB when some directors began making documentaries on Canadian novelists. It occurred to me that there was a whole generation of poets who had pioneered modernist verse in Canada, and they wouldn’t be around forever. I wanted to get them on film while there was still time. And so, I made a series of six films, under the rubric Poets: A Sestet, featuring Scott, Purdy, Layton, Gustafson, Birney, and P.K. Page. I went on, at the NFB and later as a freelancer, making films about music, artists, et cetera. My last film, Margaret and Evergon, is an inquiry into the genesis of Evergon’s magnificent series of larger-than-life black-and-white photographs of his aged mother in the nude. It’s available to watch on Vimeo.
5. You once called Montreal the only city in Canada at that time “cosmopolitan enough” for you. Has that perception changed over the years?
That statement goes way back to my return to Canada after a couple of years in Europe, largely Paris. I landed in Toronto, which at the time I found uninspiring, and I kept making short trips to Montreal to attend concerts by French (and Quebec) chansonniers, and to make the discovery of the city’s vibrant pre-Expo 67 cultural scene, with filmmakers like Jutras and Groulx, writers like Aquin and Blais. When I got the opportunity to move to Montreal and actually work on an Expo project, I jumped at the chance. Been here ever since. (Though my feelings about Montreal have changed, as has the city.)
Thank you, Donald!
Donald Winkler’s latest translation, The Harmattan Winds by Silvain Trudel, is now available from Archipelago.