Language as Destiny, Destiny in Language
On October 6, 1921, Lea Goldberg—a precocious ten-year-old, already whispered about among the neighbors and at school as a promising poet—records the first entry in her diary. Her mother tongues are Russian and German, and she writes her poems and stories in Russian, but the diary, she decides, will be in Hebrew, a language she began to study the year before at the Hebrew gymnasium in Kovno (Kaunas), Lithuania. Soon, she will start writing her poems and stories exclusively in Hebrew. She will memorize The Song of Songs and Ecclesiastes, and will translate the great Russian poet, Alexander Blok (1880-1921), into Hebrew. As will become apparent in a few short years, this early commitment to Hebrew will determine the course of Goldberg's life.
Inevitably, Goldberg's personal history coincides with the upheavals of the 20th century, both in Europe and in the Middle East. And so the diary she kept for 45 years (from 1921 to 1966) is not only a biographical and literary document of great significance, but also a fascinating historical one. The Diaries cover Goldberg's childhood in Kovno; her years as a student in Berlin and Bonn; her early years in Palestine where she emigrated in 1935; her entry into the literary scene, the cafés where she would sit alone or in the company of poets, usually the only woman at the table. Then come the momentous years in the State of Israel, the witnessing of its birth, her association and friendship with other poets and writers, among them Avraham Shlonsky, S.Y. Agnon, Sir Isaiah Berlin, Max Brod, Martin Buber, Gershom Scholem, Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz, and, most notably, poet Avraham Ben Yitzhak Sonne (friend of Hermann Broch, Arthur Schnitzler, Robert Musil, and Elias Canetti).
Many pages could be filled with her curriculum vitae, but perhaps it suffices to say that she holds a place in Hebrew literature comparable to that of Emily Dickinson in the United States. Young poets flocked to her, and Goldberg, generous and encouraging, helped publish the first poems of a new and emerging generation of poets: Yehuda Amichai, Dahlia Ravikovitch, Dan Pagis, T. Carmi, to name a few. The late Dahlia Ravikovitch described her first impression of Goldberg thus: “It was like meeting Queen Elizabeth.”
A national treasure and a rich trove for scholars and researchers, Goldberg is recognized as one of the finest Hebrew poets of the modern era. She was also a beloved author of children's stories, poems, and songs, and was a highly regarded theater critic, playwright, literary scholar, editor, and teacher. In 1952, she joined the faculty of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem and helped establish the Department of Comparative Literature, which she headed until her death in January, 1970.
- Tsipi Keller
Hebrew | Israel | Novel (excerpt)
July, 2016Crossing a River Twice presents the basic translator's dilemma: how to tell a story set in a specific time and place in a way that is universally relevant. This problem is compounded in the first three chapters with the character of Itamar, who is alienated from modern society in a way that readers worldwide will recognize, but has a distinctly Israeli way to express this alienation. His stream of consciousness, often undistinguishable from the narration, is comprised of Israeli-specific references and expressions, and he has a habit of using these references and expressions in a literal and figurative sense at the same time. The solution I found was to have Itamar use slightly altered versions of English idioms. This way, צרת רבים חצי נחמה (literally, "there's consolation in shared troubles") became "there's comfort in numbers" rather than "misery loves company," since Itamar emphatically does not want company. Similarly, וטובה שעה אחת קודם ("and better an hour sooner") became "an hour saved is an hour earned," rather than "the sooner the better," since Itamar means exactly one hour.
The story is set in Tel Aviv, and Itamar's attachment to the city, and specifically the Yarkon River, is a major aspect of his character. To emphasize this (and to add some clarity for readers not familiar with Tel Aviv and Israel) I added subtle reminders throughout the text. For example, מישור החוף ("the coastal plain") in the second line of the prologue I translated as "Israel's coastal plain" to provide an early point of orientation for the international reader. Similarly, I added terms for terrain and infrastructure features (e.g. river, bridge, interchange) that will be obvious to the Israeli reader but perhaps necessary for the international reader. Ultimately, I tried to achieve a translation that would not sound foreign to the international reader, but that would engage their curiosity towards the setting.
- Tom C. Atkins
Hebrew | Israel | Play (excerpt)
April, 2013Set in Haifa in 1988 during the first Intifada, The Admission is a play about memory and denial in the context of what Israelis call their "War of Independence" and the Palestinians call their "Nakba." It portrays one Jewish and one Palestinian family. Some of the families' members are trying to reveal the events that took place during the 1948 war between Jews and Palestinians, hoping that an open and truthful discourse will heal their wounds--but some are trying to deny the events and bury their memories deep in the ground, hoping that peaceful co-existence without exposing the painful memories will heal those same wounds.
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