Between Translation and Traduction The Many Paradoxes of Deux Solitudes Agnès Whitfield Several translation paradoxes underlie the writing and translation of the classic Canadian novel, Two Solitudes, whose very title has come to symbolize the irreconcilable gap between Anglophones and Francophones in Canada. These paradoxes reflect the intercultural nature of the book’s themes, the contrary cross- readings of both the original and its translation (the book was well received by both groups for opposite reasons), the colonial position of both nascent English and Québécois literary institutions, and the absence, in both cultures, of any clearly defined horizon of expectations for literary translation. Using Antoine Berman’s distinction between the actual translation (or traduction) of a text and the reception process (or translation) in the receiving culture, one appreciates the need for a more extensive analysis of the reception (translation) process, an analysis that looks both backwards in time to identify the hidden translation intertexts within the original text (Two Solitudes is in fact a translation of a Québec novel, Trente Arpents), and forward in time to clarify how a translated text can inform the more general intercultural process of translation between two languages. Introduction Undoubtedly, the first and perhaps the most striking paradox of Hugh MacLennan’s canonical novel Two Solitudes is the curious sea-change its title has undergone in Canadian cultural history. Sometime after the novel appeared in 1945 (locating the exact moment would in itself make an interesting study), the expression “two solitudes” took on a life of its own, in both English and French, as the national metaphor for Anglophone and Francophone relations in Canada. Inspired by Rilke, the term initially expressed the love and respect that could be shared by two human beings whose fundamental desire, despite their inevitable differences, was mutual knowledge and understanding.1 Some fifty years later, in the Canadian/Québec context, it has come to mean the complete refusal of the other, a kind of no man’s land of cultural non- communication. How the title of a book written at the end of World War II in a spirit of reconciliation could come to symbolize the insurmountable gap separating the Anglophone and Francophone communities in Canada is indeed difficult to fathom. Like many English-Canadian writers of his generation, McLennan was anxious to rescue Canadian literature from the imperial grip, and he accordingly sought inspiration in subjects directly related to Canadian reality. Born on the East Coast of Canada on Cape Breton Island, but a resident of Montréal since 1935, he realized that one of the particularities of his young country, and perhaps its most profound characteristic, was its linguistic and cultural duality. Two Solitudes reflected his interest in looking more closely at this complex reality, and his conviction, which he was to qualify some thirty years later as “optimistic” that “the two solitudes were bound to come together in Canada” (MacLennan 1975: 118). The purpose of this article is not to return to the sociological and political dimensions of what some observers have called the impossibility (and others the challenge) of Canada as a country. Rather, I would like to explore the question from a new, translation perspective, using the late Antoine Berman’s distinction between the actual translation of a work (traduction in French) and its reception and resonance (or translation) in the host culture.2 As Berman observes, the “translation of a literary work into another language/culture does not occur solely through its translation per se (traduction) but through reviews and numerous other forms of textual (or even non-textual) transformations not necessarily translative in nature. It is the sum of all of these texts and transformations that constitutes the translation of the work” (1995: 17). How the new text is received, some might say re-written, is therefore an important part of this translation process: “To truly unfold and engage in the host language and culture,” Berman continues, “a translation must be supported and accompanied by critical studies and non- translative re-writings” (1995: 18). From this point of view, in the context of understanding the fate of Two Solitudes, it is useful to determine whether the reversal in meaning of its title and themes occurred as a result of shifts in the actual translation or traduction process, or whether the sea-change is more accurately related to issues raised during the novel's reception or translation into French. Deux Solitudes and the vicissitudes of translation Surprisingly, and this is the second paradox in the book’s history, it took eighteen years before this important Canadian novel was available in French. Furthermore, the translation appeared not in Québec, but in France. The delay was not due to any lack of interest on the part of the Québec/Canadian Francophone community or Francophone translators. According to MacLennan’s biographer, Elspeth Cameron, as soon the original appeared, “French reviewers urged a translation, and several translators contacted [MacLennan] personally offering to carry this out” (1981: 193). Cameron suggests indirectly that the source of the problem may have been MacLennan’s New York agent, Blanche Gregory. In her account of how she came to translate the novel, Québec translator Louise Gareau-Des Bois confirms this hypothesis, citing difficulties with MacLennan’s American and English agents, the negative influence of the New York/London/Paris connection, as well as the precarious status of translation in the Québec publishing milieu. 3 The saga of the translation is a strange mixture of persistent obstacles and happy coincidences. In 1945, through Gregory, MacLennan signed a contract for the translation with the Montréal publisher Lucien Parizeau, a choice that may reflect Parizeau’s contacts with a number of French writers living in exile in New York during the war. However, as French publishers took up their activities again, the Québec publisher found himself in financial difficulties. When Parizeau declared bankruptcy three years later, as MacLennan told Gareau- Des Bois, “it seemed too late for a French translation” (Gareau-Des Bois 1994: 114). 4 In another irony of Canadian/Québécois intercultural relations, André D’Allemagne, who would later found a political party in favor of Québec Independence, the Rassemblement pour l'indépendence nationale, wrote to MacLennan in 1952 from Paris indicating his interest in translating the book. Perhaps the changing political context dampened his enthusiasm for the project.5 MacLennan in any event lost contact with him, and the project stalled. Caught in the London/Paris web, the author was not hopeful of finding a publisher: “My London agent has long ago given up trying to interest a Paris publisher in Two Solitudes” (Gareau- Des Bois 1994: 114). The difficulty, as MacLennan expressed it, was primarily commercial: “It is not easy to persuade a French firm to publish a book which is (or will be) fifteen years old by the time it reaches the French market” (Gareau-Des Bois 1994: 114). Gareau-Des Bois, who had just graduated from the Université de Montréal with a degree in literature, discovered the novel, quite by chance, in April 1958. The same week, reading an article in the Montréal newspaper Le Devoir, she learned, much to her stupefaction, that the novel had been translated into Dutch, Swedish, Spanish, Czech, German and Japanese, but not yet into French. She immediately contacted MacLennan, but the author was unwilling to authorize a translation without first speaking to D’Allemagne. Again, chance circumstance intervened. Gareau-Des Bois caught sight of D’Allemagne at a Montréal bus stop. MacLennan was able to ascertain that he no longer wished to pursue the project, and agreed to let Gareau-Des Bois translate the book. However, it was up to her to find a publisher (MacLennan suggested that she try to find a Québec press), and up to the publisher to pay for the translation (Gareau-Des Bois 1994: 114). The task was not easy. Gareau-Des Bois knocked at several doors before the Montréal publisher Pierre Tisseyre agreed at least to take a look at her text, on the condition that she submit half the translation, some three hundred pages, for evaluation. In May 1959, he refused the project, ostensibly on stylistic grounds, Gareau-Des Bois’s use of the subjunctive having been “found to be somewhat careless.” More likely, in the translator’s view, the publisher was unwilling “to rely on a young writer -- and a girl at that -- for such an important and enormous task” (1994:116). The French adventure began in November 1960. At MacLennan’s suggestion, Gareau- Des Bois met with Mademoiselle Dumat of the Éditions Spes in Paris who agreed to publish the translation. In a letter dated December 10, 1960, MacLennan gave Gareau-Des Bois the translation rights for one year, and on July 31, 1961, the translator submitted a complete translation to the French publisher. There followed a series of laborious negotiations. Particularly at issue was Gareau-Des Bois’ use of French-Canadian expressions. Éditions Spes was adamant in wanting to impose standard continental usage; MacLennan sided with his translator. “After a lengthy and voluminous correspondence with the author, his agent in New York, Miss Gregory and mostly Mademoiselle Dumat” (Gareau-Des Bois 1994: 118), the translation finally appeared in Paris two years later, in December 1963. In April 1964, MacLennan participated in a book launch organized by the publisher at the Canadian Embassy in Paris. However, the book was poorly distributed in France, a situation that only deteriorated a few years later when Éditions Spes declared bankruptcy. Two months before Deux Solitudes appeared in Paris, in October 1963, some extracts from the translation were published in Canada in the popular monthly magazine Chatelaine. In 1966 and 1967, encouraged perhaps by the publication of Deux Solitudes, the Montréal press HMH published a French version of two other books by MacLennan, Barometer Rising (Le temps tournera au beau) and The Watch that Ends the Night (Le matin d'une longue nuit), both translated by Québec writer Jean Simard. However, HMH Hurtubise only acquired the rights for Deux Solitudes in 1978, most probably as a result of the publicity generated in Montréal by the 1977 film version of the book directed by Lionel Chetwynd and produced by Harry Gulkin and James Shavik (Cameron 1981: 193). The original translation was reprinted the same year, and a new version, corrected by the translator, appeared in paperback in 1992 under the prestigious Bibliothèque Québécoise imprint at Éditions Fides. The Francophone reception In terms of critical reviews and the non-translative transformations that together constitute what Berman defines as the translation of a work, the Francophone reception of the book can be broken down into three stages. An initial salvo of Francophone reviews occurred in 1945 in the wake of the publication of the original book, followed eighteen years later by reviews of the French translation. In the early 1980s, perhaps as a result of the new HMH edition, there was renewed Francophone interest in the book, predominantly in academic circles. In his comprehensive study of the reception of Two Solitudes, Antoine Sirois locates “at least a dozen reviews, including eight of the original, English text volume” (1982: 114).6 Writing in the Montréal newspaper La Presse, Jean Béraud considered the novel “the most important book of our time.” Roger Duhamel, in Action nationale, called it “one of richest and most moving works in English-Canadian literature” (quoted by Sirois 1982: 114). The general opinion, concludes Sirois, was extremely positive: “Critics drew attention to the artistic qualities of the novel: MacLennan’s admirable ability to create authentic characters, his vigorous and sensual style, and the captivating plot, but most of all they emphasize the quality of his description of the two solitudes” (1982: 114, my translation). Especially praised was the cultural dimension of the book: the critics “are unanimous, with only a few reservations, in recognizing the intelligence and generosity [of the author] in his portrayal of the two communities” (Sirois 1982: 114). There was only one dissenting voice. In Le Devoir, Albert Alain reproached MacLennan for having given Anglophone, non-Catholic readers in Canada and the United States a false idea of Catholic, French Canada” (quoted by Sirois 1982: 115). On the whole, however, critics “all seem to have [had] the feeling that French Canada ha[d] been finally given its due and was appreciated by English Canada” (Sirois 1982: 115). Paradoxically, the reception of the translation, eighteen years later, was much more critical. Of the four Francophone reviews of the book, two were quite mixed. The longest, and most positive, by Jean O'Neil, appeared in the arts supplement of the Montréal newspaper La Presse. MacLennan was touched by O'Neil’s praise, all the more so because the reviewer had “approached the book with some scepticism and even a certain hostility” (Gareau-Des Bois 1994: 123). However, Naïm Kattan, writing in Le Devoir, described the book as “more of a document” than “a work of literature.” In his review in the Montreal Star, Jean-Éthier Blais observed that he “didn’t believe that French Canadians, from a sociological point of view, would accept the book’s conclusions” (Sirois 1982: 115). In the handful of academic studies following the 1978 re-edition of the book by HMH, the validity of MacLennan’s portrait of French-Canadian society was questioned even more insistently. Jacques Brazeau found many failings in MacLennan’s “simplistic conception of Québec society.” There is no mention of such “village institutions” as the “municipal office, the local school, the village hotel, and the local doctor and notary public.” The village is presented in “isolation,” without any “local business,” and “Tallard’s conversion to Protestantism at the end of the book lacks credibility” (Brazeau 1982: 36-37, my translation). In short, in his view, the portrait of Saint-Marc was not “representative”, and the description of Montréal is even less so. “Too few aspects of Francophone Montréal are presented”; “Francophone society with its social, economic and political institutions is absent” (1982: 37-38, my translation). Finally, writes Brazeau, the French-Canadian family is given short shrift: “the women are absent and characters have no recourse to their larger circle of relatives” (1982: 39, my translation). Several factors account for this reversal in the reception of Deux Solitudes. Sirois points to changes in the social and literary context between 1945 and 1963. Citing such journals as La Nouvelle Relève (1941-1948) and Cité Libre (1950-1966), he suggests that the intellectual elite that emerged in Québec after World War II up until the 1950s was “more open to the outside” (1982: 118). In “contrast to all periods before or since,” it was between 1945 and 1960 that the image of the Anglophone in the Québec novel was the “most favorable” (1982: 119). Québec writers could identify with MacLennan’s desire to free himself from imperial shackles and explore his own Canadian reality in his fiction. Commenting on O’Neil’s review, MacLennan underscores this shared view: “I am totally in agreement that in general a writer should write at home[...] [O’Neil] has understood that when I wrote Deux Solitudes, one has to remember that Canada was not known as a country” (Gareau-Des Bois 1994:123). By the middle of the 1960s, however, decolonization and independence were the spirit of the times, rather than cultural reconciliation. While MacLennan himself felt a certain sympathy towards the young Front de libération du Québec (FLQ) militants, he did not adopt their cause. This new, more polarized context of reception necessarily shed a different light on the book’s ending. The intercultural marriage between Paul Tallard and Heather Methuen, by which MacLennan had intended to evoke the happy reconciliation of the two peoples, was more problematic, and could easily be interpreted as an example of Anglophone assimilation. The original as translation While brief, this survey of the Francophone reception of Two Solitudes/Deux Solitudes serves to highlight the growing gap between the book’s themes and changing social values in Québec. More specifically, a closer look at critics’ comments on both the original and the translation suggests that what is at stake is not MacLennan’s conciliatory attitude towards Francophone culture, that is to say the theme of cultural rapprochement per se, but rather the validity of his representation of Québec society. In other words, what Two Solitudes is most criticized for is the way it translates, or rather mistranslates, the French-Canadian milieu. To return to Berman’s distinction, the novel is considered a poor translation of the milieu it portrays. Indeed, and this is another important paradox of Two Solitudes, through its characters and themes the original is itself a translative text. Written in English by an Anglophone author, Two Solitudes is in fact the story of a Francophone family headed by Athanase Tallard, seigneur of Saint-Marc-des-Érables, a small village located on the north shore of the Saint-Lawrence River not far from Montréal. Entitled “1917-1918” and “1919-1921”, the first two sections of the book set the increasing tensions within the main character against life in the village under the vigilant eye of Father Beaubien, the local priest. Tallard is caught between his respect for the traditional, Catholic values of his society and his own desire for technological progress. On the political and economic, as well as the family and religious levels, his life is one disappointment after another. As a member of the federal Parliament in Ottawa, in an effort to reconcile Anglophone-Francophone relations, he supports his Anglophone colleagues in the vote for conscription, only to incur the wrath of his fellow Francophones. A free-thinker, he questions the authority of the village priest, even converts to Protestantism, but ends up returning to the Catholic faith on his deathbed. His family is also divided. Marius, his son from a first, unhappy marriage with a devout Francophone, is an ardent Québec nationalist. Paul, from his second, more emotionally fulfilling marriage with an Irishwoman, shares his federalist views. However, neither son really offers him the filial affection he is looking for. On the economic front as well, his efforts are to no avail. He dreams of modernizing his village by setting up an electricity generating plant on the local river, but his plan fails due to the obstinate opposition of the Church and the treachery of his associate, Huntley McQueen, an important but unscrupulous Montréal businessman. More compressed, set for the most part in Montréal, the last two sections of the novel take place in 1934 and. 1939. The focus shifts to Athanase’s son Paul Tallard, who, like his father but on a different plane, struggles to reconcile his personal goals and the expectations of his society. In order to finance his education, he plays hockey, but his real dream is to become a writer. Through John Yardley, a retired navy captain and a former neighbor of his father’s in Saint-Marc, he meets Heather Methuen, whose family belongs to the Montréal Anglophone establishment. Transcending their linguistic and cultural differences, and despite the opposition of the Methuen family, Paul and Heather finally marry. The book’s ending is nonetheless ambivalent. On the eve of World War II, it remains to be seen whether their intercultural marriage, and the possibility of national reconciliation it represents, will be able to withstand the great upheavals to come. As Elspeth Cameron points out in her extensively researched biography, MacLennan was well aware of the challenge he faced in endeavoring to represent a society which, to all intents and purposes, he knew only from the outside. Although he lived in Montréal, the circles he frequented (his colleagues at Lower Canada College, a private school for children of the English establishment, and friends and acquaintances at McGill University) were almost all Anglophones. As Cameron puts it succinctly, “He was not French-Canadian; he did not speak French fluently; nor was he a Roman Catholic. How was he to go about portraying French- Canadians with even the slightest degree of credibility?” (1981: 168-169). Cameron does point out three important Francophone contacts. The first was MacLennan’s only Francophone colleague at Lower Canada College, S. E. H. Péron, although, as a Protestant, Péron did not necessarily share the opinions of the French-Canadian majority. In November 1942, MacLennan participated, along with French-Canadian writer Émile Vaillancourt, in a broadcast on Québec and the question of Canadian unity. He was receptive to Vaillancourt’s presentation of why Francophones were against conscription, a deeply divisive national issue. Vaillancourt also opened his eyes to the important changes taking place in Québec at the time, and the rise of a new class of francophone engineers and businessmen. While Athanase Tallard’s enthusiasm for technology can be traced in part to Vaillancourt’s ideas, the major Francophone influence on Two Solitudes is unquestionably Trente Arpents, a novel by Québec writer Philippe Panneton, under the penname Ringuet. First published in French in 1938, Ringuet’s book is now considered by literary scholars to be the first French-Canadian novel to offer a realistic picture of the tensions generated in traditional Québec rural society by the forces of industrialization and urbanization. As a physician working in Trois- Rivières and Joliette in daily contact with the local inhabitants from all walks of life, Panneton had a first-hand knowledge of his fellow citizens, their customs, manner of peaking and way of thinking. MacLennan, who read Trente Arpents when it came out in French, and again two years later, in English translation, readily expressed his debt to Ringuet:”Had I not read Trente Arpents, I could never have written Two Solitudes” (Cameron 1981: 169). Indeed, he relied completely on the book, observes Cameron, for the “details and atmosphere of daily life in French Canada” (1981: 170), even setting his story in a fictitious village, Saint-Marc-des- Érables, in the heart of Ringuet country. In terms of its plot structure, characters, and main themes (tensions between traditional and modern values, the role of the Catholic church, inter-generation conflict between father and son) and despite slight differences in how the latter are worked through, Two Solitudes readily falls into the category of what Berman would call a non-translative translation of Trente Arpents. When they met in Montreal after the publication of Two Solitudes, both authors expressed their debt of gratitude to each other. Although an English translation of Trente Arpents existed, Panneton explicitly recognized in the work of his Canadian colleague a way of bringing his ideas to the attention of the international Anglophone community. “You have brought to Two Solitudes an international perspective I could never have possessed, he told MacLennan, the latter recounts, “caught as I am in the narrow milieu of my own people” (Cameron 1981: 170). Two Solitudes: problematic portrayal of Francophone culture In the original, however, this translative dimension of Two Solitudes is curiously discreet, to say the least, particularly in terms of the representation of linguistic difference. At stake is the arduous question of how to represent, in a novel written in English, conflicts and conversations between Anglophones and Francophones, not to mention dialogues between Francophone characters presumably speaking with each other in French. MacLennan was aware of the complexities of such a task, and the impact on the verisimilitude and readability of his novel. Although he makes no explicit reference to Trente Arpents, he does use a brief “Foreword” to draw his readers’ attention to the intricacies of linguistic relations in Canada: Because this is a story, I dislike having to burden it with a foreword, but something of the kind is necessary, for it is a novel of Canada. This means that its scene is laid in a nation with two official languages, English and French. It means that some of the characters in the book are presumed to speak only English, others only French, while many are bilingual (MacLennan 1992: Foreword). While this statement may be understood as an implicit invitation to readers to use their imagination to compensate for the inevitable failings of a unilingual representation, it may also be simply informative. It should not be forgotten that Two Solitudes first appeared in 1945 in New York. Indeed, the rest of the Foreword is clearly aimed at the American public, if one can judge from the external point of view MacLennan adopts to present the paradoxical nature of linguistic duality in Canada: No single word exists, within Canada itself, to designate with satisfaction to both races a native of the country. When those of the French language use the word Canadien, they nearly always refer to themselves. They know their English-speaking compatriots as les Anglais. English-speaking citizens act on the same principle. They call themselves Canadians; those of the French language French-Canadians (MacLennan 1992: Foreword).7 Paradoxically, other than these short, albeit pertinent preliminary remarks, there are very few explicit textual traces of French in Two Solitudes. Francophone characters, of course, have French names (Blanchard, Dansereau, Drouin, Beaubien, Marchand, Frenette, Latulippe). Some are also given typically French nicknames or diminutives such as “P’pa” (51) or “Minou” (172),