Masaryk University

Faculty of Arts

Department of English

and American Studies

English Language Translation

Bc. Vendula Srničková

Translating Nonsense in Roald Dahl’s

Children’s Books

Master’s Diploma Thesis

Supervisor: Ing. Mgr. Jiří Rambousek

2014

I declare that I have worked on this thesis independently,

using only the primary and secondary sources listed in the bibliography.

……………………………………………..

Author’s signature

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my supervisor, Ing. Mgr. Jiří Rambousek, for his patience,

guidance and valuable advice throughout the entire writing process.

Contents

1. Introduction ............................................................................................................. 7

2. About the Author ..................................................................................................... 9

2.1 Life and Works ................................................................................................... 9

2.2 Illustrating Roald Dahl ..................................................................................... 10

2.2.1 Quentin Blake ........................................................................................... 12

3. Roald Dahl’s Style in Children’s Books .............................................................. 13

3.1 Lexical Innovation ........................................................................................... 16

3.2 Phonological Innovation .................................................................................. 17

3.3 Typographical Innovation ................................................................................ 18

3.4 Semantic Innovation ......................................................................................... 18

3.5 Narrative Voice ................................................................................................ 19

3.6 Other Characteristics of Roald Dahl’s Style .................................................... 20

4. Roald Dahl in the Czech Republic ....................................................................... 21

4.1 Czech Translations of Roald Dahl ................................................................... 21

5. Presentation of Analysed Works .......................................................................... 23

5.1 James and the Giant Peach ............................................................................... 23

5.2 Fantastic Mr. Fox ............................................................................................. 24

5.3 George’s Marvellous Medicine ........................................................................ 26

5.4 The BFG ........................................................................................................... 27

5.5 The Witches ..................................................................................................... 28

5.6 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ................................................................... 29

5.7 Matilda ............................................................................................................. 30

5.8 Danny the Champion of the World .................................................................. 32

5.9 The Twits ......................................................................................................... 34

6. Theoretical Background ....................................................................................... 35

6.1 Nonsense as a Literary Device ......................................................................... 35

6.2 Translating Nonsense ....................................................................................... 41

6.3 Nonsense in Children’s Literature ................................................................... 48

7. Translation Analysis .............................................................................................. 54

7.1 Objective and Methodology ............................................................................. 54

7.2 Charlie, Danny and James ................................................................................ 57

7.3 George, Mr. Fox and Matilda ........................................................................... 69

7.4 The BFG ........................................................................................................... 75

7.5 The Witches ..................................................................................................... 84

7.6 The Twits ......................................................................................................... 90

8. Summary and Conclusion ..................................................................................... 93

9. Bibliography ........................................................................................................... 97

10. Summary .............................................................................................................. 103

11. Resumé .................................................................................................................. 104

“A children's story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children's story in

the slightest.”

― C.S. Lewis

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1. Introduction

Nonsense and Roald Dahl essentially have two things in common. The first is the fact

that neither is associated with the other, for despite continuing to be an extremely popular

and current children’s author several decades after his death, no one made the connection

between Dahl and nonsense until 2012, when David Rudd pointed out the similarities

between the author of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Lewis Carroll in one of his

essays. The second parallel that exists revolves around a concept that could perhaps be

described as “underratedness”. Just as Dahl is a linguistically underrated children’s

author, nonsense is not given the attention it deserves in translation studies. The

translation of nonsense is one of the most demanding tasks a traslator can be assigned,

both in terms of interpretation and transfer into the target language. The translation of

nonsense requires a high level of mastery of both the source and target languages, in order

to be able to perceive all of the features of nonsense in the text and translate them

adequately.

The first part of this thesis will introduce Roald Dahl as both a human being and

an author, briefly describing his life and works, while marginally mentioning the

importance of illustration in his books for children, and his famous collaboration with

illustrator Quentin Blake, spanning several decades and encompassing almost two dozen

books. The significance of considering illustrations when translating and publishing

children’s books will also be touched upon.

The subsequent chapter describes Dahl’s writing style from a linguistic

perspective, focusing especially on its most prominent and distinguishing features, such

as the author’s favourite stylistic figures. The word that best characterizes these features

is innovation on a lexical, phonological, semantic and typographical level.

8

Chapter 4 will present information regarding the translation of Dahl’s children’s

books in the Czech Republic in chronological order. Nine of Dahl’s stories have thus far

been translated into Czech by five different authors, and several publishing houses have

decided to include Dahl’s work in their portfolio. The books have yet to be retranslated,

however, so there is no possibility of comparing two translations of the same book.

Chapter 5 will provide summaries of the characters and plot of each book that is

analysed in the practical part of the thesis. This will be followed by a chapter dealing with

some theoretical information regarding nonsense as a literary device (its definition and

description), the translation of nonsense (how translators approach this task and what

solutions they most often opt for) and, lastly, the role of nonsense in children’s literature.

The practical part of this Master’s thesis provides examples of how translators

have dealt with various aspects of the author’s writing style and how they have chosen to

translate the features of literary nonsense present in the books into Czech. It is followed

by a summary of the analysis, where any trends or tendencies will be described.

This thesis essentially has two aims. The first is to demonstrate that Roald Dahl

widely utilizes nonsense in his books for children, despite not being regarded as a

nonsense writer. The second objective is to demonstrate how Czech translators dealt with

(or failed to deal with, when they were not aware of them) instances of nonsense in their

translations. The translation of nonsense must occur on all levels, from phonological to

syntactic. The assumption is that the translators, who were not particularly focused on the

various literary devices Dahl employs, will have a tendency to analyse the text

predominantly on a lexical level.

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2. About the Author

2.1 Life and Works

Roald Dahl was born on September 13th, 1916, in Wales.

When he was just three years old, his older sister died of

appendicitis, and his father’s death followed shortly

afterwards. His memories of the two British boarding

schools he attended are mostly negative and include savage

beatings, sadistic headmasters and prejudiced teachers. He

never excelled academically, but was an avid reader. After graduating, he went to work

for the Shell Oil Company in East Africa, and joined the Royal Air Force in 1939 when

World War II began. His first flight was a disaster: he crashed in the Lybian desert and

had to undergo a hip replacement and two spinal surgeries. After recovering, he

continued to fly for the RAF until 1941, when blinding headaches and other health

issues forced him to return to Britain.

Dahl then moved to the United States to help with the British war effort as

assistant air attaché. He started writing short stories for literary magazines. In 1953, he

published the best-selling story collection Someone Like You and married actress

Patricia Neil. Roald and Patricia were married for thirty years and had five children.

One of them died at the age of eleven from measles encephalitis, and another was

severely injured in a car accident at just four months old. The child’s skull was shattered

and he became temporarily blind. In a desperate attempt to help his son, Dahl helped

invent a valve that kept spinal fluid from pressing on the brain, and although little Theo

recovered before it was ready, it was later used on thousands of other children with

similar problems (Anderson).

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As if these tragic events weren’t enough, Dahl’s wife suffered a series of near-

fatal strokes in 1965. Once again Dahl came to the rescue and helped her recover

through a cruel rehabilitation regime. After Dahl divorced Neal, he married Felicity

Dahl. He died seven years later, on November 23rd, 1990, in Oxford, England (Bio).

Dahl published the book James and the Giant Peach in 1961. It was his first

highly successful children’s book. In 1964, he released Charlie and the Chocolate

Factory, which went on to become his most popular work. Over his decades-long

writing career, Dahl wrote nineteen children’s books and nine short story collections.

His other successful children’s books include Fantastic Mr. Fox (1970), The Witches

(1983) and Matilda (1988). All of the aforementioned have also been made into films.

2.2 Illustrating Roald Dahl

Dahl’s books are the kind that were written to be illustrated. The larger-than-life and

ridiculously exaggerated characters and situations often call for a quirky visualization. In

fact, Dahl himself often calls on and incorporates illustrations into his stories. The very

first lines of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory clearly demonstrate this technique:

“These two very old people are the father and mother of Mr.

Bucket….And these two very old people are the father and mother of

Mrs. Bucket…This is Mr. Bucket. This is Mrs. Bucket…This is Charlie.”

(CCF 12)

Here is another example from Danny the Champion of the World:

“I never had a moment’s unhappiness or illness and here I am on my

fifth birthday.” (D 11)

And lastly, an excerpt from The Witches:

“Kindly examine the picture opposite. Which lady is the witch?” (W 10)

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Dahl’s many references to illustrations in his stories are a phenomenon that

translators and publishing houses have had to take into consideration, and in cases where

they have failed to do so, the result has been, to say the least, slightly awkward. This

becomes evident when the opening of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in two Czech

editions, both translated by Jaroslav Kořán, which have a schema of illustrations different

to the source text, are compared:

1. Mateřídouška, 1971, illustrated by Jaroslav Malák: The first Czech edition of

Karlík a továrna na čokoládu was loyal to the typical Czech format of illustrating

children’s books: four to five pages of text followed by a half-page or full-page

illustration. In this case, there is an illustration on the page preceding the first

chapter, where all the members of the Bucket family are depicted. The translator

had the sagacity to move away from a literal translation and instead opt for one

where the narrator is simply presenting the characters, not introducing them to the

reader:

„Na samém pokraji jednoho velikého města stál docela malý domek. A přece v tom malém

domku žilo tolik lidí. Kolik? Počítejte...Tak to byl dědeček Pepa a babička Pepička, otec

a matka pana Bucketa. Potom dědeček Jiří a babička Jiřinka, otec a matka paní

Bucketové. Potom ještě pan Bucket a paní Bucketová.“ (KTČ 3)

2. Academia, 2006, no illustrations, (the book cover contains a photo from the

film “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”, starring Johnny Depp): Despite

this version not containing any illustrations, the opening sentences have not been

altered, and even though the author is prompting us to look at Charlie’s relatives,

we are unable to do so, because there is nothing to look at. The publishing house

should have taken this into consideration before discarding all of the illustrations.

12

These examples prove that illustrations are an integral part of Roald Dahl’s work

and should not be overlooked during the translation process. The following section

provides some basic information on one of the greatest partnerships in the history of

storytelling.

2.2.1 Quentin Blake

Blake is so famous for his illustrations of Roald Dahl’s

stories that many people do not realize that he himself

wrote over thirty books (as well as illustrating them,

naturally). In total he has illustrated more than three

hundred books by writers such as Joan Aiken, Elizabeth

Bowen, William Steig and Dr. Seuss.

Born in London in 1932, Blake had always made his living as an illustrator and

was also a teacher at the Royal College of Art. His illustrations have been published ever

since he was sixteen years old. He studied English at Downing College, Cambridge, and

got a postgraduate teaching diploma from the University of London. He has won several

awards, such as the Hans Christian Andersen Award for Illustration, which is the highest

international recognition given to creators of children's books, in 2002. In 1999 he was

appointed the first ever Children's Laureate, a post designed to raise the profile of

children's literature, and he was also knighted for his work in 2013.

Even though his drawings often look like they were created on the spur of the

moment, on his official website Blake reveals that a lot of preparation and planning goes

into his illustrations, especially in the case of sequences of drawings. He often uses the

light-box technique, which allows him to see where and how his characters need to be

13

positioned on a page (Quentin Blake). Blake knows how to create complex facial

expressions, gestures and stances in his characters and this combination of detail and

nonchalantness couples perfectly with the characters in Roald Dahl’s books. Blake has

illustrated all of them and his distinctive style has almost become an extension of Dahl

himself.

Blake’s and Dahl’s collaboration started in the mid 1970s, when the two came

together under the same publisher and Blake was recommended as an illustrator for

Dahl’s picture book The Enormous Crocodile. Very soon the two became professionally

inseperable. It is probably for this reason that in recent years the publishing house Knižní

klub has chosen to use Blake’s illustrations in its Czech translations, rather then

commission a Czech illustrator. Some Czech illustrators that have contributed to help

Czech translations of Dahl come alive include legends like Adolf Born, Jaroslav Malák

and Jan Brychta.

3. Roald Dahl’s Style in Children’s

Books

In Language and Control in Children’s Literature, Knowles states that no discussion of

modern children’s fiction can ignore Roald Dahl (1996). But what exactly is it that makes

Dahl so popular with children? The author himself provided a list of what constitutes a

good child author in Writer magazine:

“He must like simple tricks and jokes and riddles and other childish things. He must

be unconventional and inventive. He must have a really first-class plot. He must know

what enthralls children and what bores them...They love suspense. They love

action...They love chocolates and toys and money...They love being made to giggle.

They love seeing the villain meet a grisly death. They love a hero and they love the

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hero to be a winner. But they hate descriptive passages and flowery prose...Many of

them are sensitive to good writing and can spot a clumsy sentence.”(Dahl 2009)

Dahl also mentioned in the article that children become easily bored, so it is much

more difficult to keep the attention of a child than that of an adult. Chambers claims that

“what [Dahl] aims to achieve – and does – is a tone of voice which is clear, uncluttered,

unobtrusive, not very demanding linguistically, and which sets up a sense of intimate, yet

adult-controlled, relationship between his second self and his implied child reader”

(Chambers 256). The bottom line is that Dahl understands his readers‘ sense of humour,

sides with them, and simply knows how to tickle a child’s funny bone.

Despite his ongoing popularity as a children’s author, it is surprising how little

has actually been written about Dahl’s writing style. Catherine Butler, Associate

Professor of English at the University of the West of England, draws attention to the fact

that little critical attention has been devoted to him since Mark West published a short

study two years after Dahl’s death (2012). Thanks to the position of children’s literature

as a marginal genre and the controversial issues Dahl took pleasure in addressing in his

books, it is no surprise that enraged and overprotective parents and other members of the

general public, who see the author as an anarchist, spend most of their time condemning

his “celebration of vulgarity, racism, sexism, and violence” (2). Dahl is criticized for his

portrayal of family relationships, justice and revenge, as well as many taboo subjects. His

most famous work, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, “has been loved by children and

hated by adults because it is full of fun and virtually immoral” (Carpenter 1). Numerous

essays (by David Rees, Eleanor Cameron, and Michele Landsberg, for example) have

repeatedly addressed the topic of whether or not Dahl’s sadistic and subversive literary

style is suitable for children at all, and much has been written about Dahl in connection

with child education and morality.

15

In his essay Roald Dahl and the Commodification of Fantasy, Peter Hunt explains

that Dahl has been a trailblazer in the sense that he has broadened the range of acceptable

language in children’s books, as well as changing the way children are looked upon

(2012). According to Hunt, Dahl merits credit for the fact that “children are no longer

predominantly seen as innocent and vulnerable to influence. On the contrary, they are

increasingly regarded as sophisticated, demanding, ‘media-wise’ consumers” (179), a

trend that continues to this day. In the second half of the twentieth century, Dahl’s writing

empowered children in a way that no other books had ever done before (both inside and

outside of his stories). As Hollindale noted, Dahl was “both the conscious inheritor of a

tradition and a respectful iconoclast in his dealings with it” (274) and is best read as a

satirist who writes stories on multiple levels that appeal to the child but can also satisfy

the adult mind (something that Barbara Wall refers to as “double address” (1991)). The

structure of his stories is strikingly similar to the typical morality tales of the nineteenth

century, and his use of the fantistical reflects medieval narratives, where violence

abounded, but where everyone was aware that the story is a fantasy and should therefore

be looked upon with a certain amount of aloofness. Therefore, despite being full of

violence and primitive sadism, thanks to this approach the “dangerous dynamics” of

Dahl’s work lose their power (Hunt 186).

One of the only essays dealing with the Dahl’s linguistic style was written by

David Rudd, Professor of Children’s Literature at the University of Bolton. According to

Rudd, for Dahl “the shape, sound and possibilities of language are abiding concerns, often

becoming part of the subject matter or plot.” (51) In this regard, Rudd compares Dahl to

Lewis Carroll and his books Alice in Wonderland and Alice Through the Looking Glass,

where language becomes central. He claims that Dahl and Carroll share another

characteristic as authors: both largely utilize intentional nonsense as a literary device.

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Furthermore, Rudd points out that Dahl’s writing style caters to both tradition and

modernity with narrative roots “in orality, reaching back to nursery rhymes, jokes and

folk tales,” on one hand, and “a language more appropriate for those reared on cartoons,

TV, advertising slogans and the like,” on the other (53-54).

Dahl teaches children not only to love reading but also to enjoy language and not

be afraid to get creative with it. Into his children’s stories he projects the belief that “ways

of representing the world – objects, ideas, beliefs, values, and mores – are, ultimately,

arbitrary” (53).

Rudd‘s essay “‘Don’t gobbelfunk around with words’: Roald Dahl and

Language,“ discusses the characteristics of Dahl’s writing style, essentially categorizing

them as four types of innovation: lexical, phonological, typographical, and semantic.

3.1 Lexical Innovation

Dahl’s writing for children contains a myriad of neologisms, or newly coined words,

some of which are simply malapropisms, like “human beans”. Others are compound

words (whizzpopper), and in some cases “Dahl collapses two words into one, as did

Carroll with his portmanteau creations like ‘chortle’ (to chuckle and snort).” (Rudd 56)

Another one of Dahl’s techniques is the addition of an incorrect affix (usually a suffix) to

an already existing word, such as in the case of “filthing” and “disgusterous”.

Very often, Dahl replaces a word with another, already existing one, that retains

the phonological or semantic connotation, “thus the BFG talks about ‘natterboxes’, where

‘natter’ not only rhymes with ‘chatter’, but is also its synonym.” (ibid.) The technique is

often used in idiomatic phrases, such as “once in a blue baboon”. Here the word replacing

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the original not only rhymes with it, but it also evokes the blue face of the animal

mentioned.

Dahl also uses many spoonerisms. A spoonerism “consists of a transposition

between the consonant sounds (especially the initial sounds) of two words.” (Cuddon

651). Even Miss Honey, one of Dahl’s principal characters in Matilda, shares her

creator’s passion for spoonerisms, and with the help of her imagination “Cosy Nook”

becomes “Nosey Cook”. Some of Dahl’s spoonerims, such as the one just mentioned, as

well as, for example, “Dahl’s Chickens”, are more effective than others because they

contain a semantic dimension.

Furthermore, Rudd aims at shedding light on what he considers two

misconceptions regarding Roald Dahl’s vocabulary. Firstly, he argues that it is not true

that Dahl’s lexis is restricted (thus challenging Chambers‘ claim that it is not linguistically

demanding). Secondly, that his language is outdated. He argues, rather, that Dahl is a fan

of slang and colloquial language to the point that it has become part of his distinctive

idiolect, his narrative voice.

3.2 Phonological Innovation

Just as Dahl’s books were meant to be illustrated, they were also created to be read out

loud. One of Dahl’s favourite literary techniques is alliteration – a figure of speech in

which consonants, especially at the beginning of words, or stressed syllables, are repeated

(Cuddon 27). Rudd points out that Dahl most often alliterates two words (“Some beastly

bird has dropped his dirty droppings on my head!”), less often three (“foul and filthy

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fiend!”) and occassionally he even manages a quadruplet (“grousing, grouching,

grumbling, griping”).

His alliteration is often accompanied by assonance, the “repetition of similar

vowel sounds, usually close together, to achieve a particular effect of euphony” (Cuddon

60), and he is not afraid of utilizing full rhyme in his prose, in the naming of characters,

for example (Oompa-Loompa), or phrases like “sweet to eat”.

3.3 Typographical Innovation

Dahl certainly likes to play with the visual aspect of his texts, frequently using

capitalisation (both small and large capital letters), different types of fonts, reordering of

text layout, bold lettering, italics, and exclamation marks to emphasize, draw attention

and entertain.

The typographical schema of his stories could also be interpreted as a guideline to

how to read them out loud, where to raise the voice, where to put emphasis on a word or

phrase, where to pause, how to (mis)pronounce a word, where to prolong a vowel or

consonant, etc. One of his books, Esio Trot, even compels the reader to read a large part

of the text backwards in order to grasp the meaning of the words. It would perhaps be

suitable to say that Dahl liked to play with words both figuratively and literally.

3.4 Semantic Innovation

Dahl likes to employ figurative language to make semantic shifts. However, “like many

other nonsense writers, [he] seems keen not to lose sight of the original meaning” (Rudd

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60). Rudd argues that this is one of the reasons he prefers similes and puns to metaphors,

because both frames of reference, the original and the transgression, are maintained. A

simile “is a figure of speech in which one thing is likened to another in such a way as to

clarify and enhance an image” (Cuddon 629). A pun involves play on words. Dahl does,

however, makes use of many metaphors when composing his colourful insults (“You

ignorant little slug! … You witless weed! You empty-headed hamster! You stupid glob

of glue!”)

Rudd also describes a technique Dahl uses largely in his book The BFG called

adnominatio, where proper nouns are interpreted either literally or homophonically

(Greece vs. grease, Chile vs. chilly). One can often find motivated names in Dahl’s

writing (The Wormwoods, Miss Honey, Miss Trunchbull, etc.). Some of these

motivations may not be fully apparent at first sight, however. Rudd mentions the example

of Charlie Bucket, suggesting that Charlie is a empty vessel which Willy Wonka is free

to fill to the brim with advice, knowledge and know-how.

3.5 Narrative Voice

To say that Dahl is a writer with a strong narrative voice would perhaps be an

understatement. Rudd points outs in his essay that it is, in fact, so intrusive and

opinionated that it always comes through, no matter what the situation, and it is for this

reason that many of his characters seem to speak in very much the same style: it is actually

Dahl’s own voice coming through. Just as often, however, Dahl will speak as the narrator,

but we will actually here a character’s thoughts and feelings (this technique is called free

indirect discourse). Both situations are once again a reflection of the fact that Dahl draws

on techniques more closely associated with the oral tradition (Rudd 2012).

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He very often shifts from third person to first person and second person, as if

addressing an audience as a speaker, rather than an author. Dahl will sometimes ask the

reader’s opinion, sometimes he will give them advice and often he will prompt them to

look at a picture. This helps to create a sense of being “in the moment”, a sense that things

are happening right here and right now. His constant utilization of “this” and “these”

further evokes this feeling of immediateness, and whenever his wishes to amplify this

sensation even more, he writes in the present tense.

3.6 Other Characteristics of Roald Dahl’s Style

Rudd does mention syntactic innovation as the fifth category for Dahl’s writing style, but

he then goes on to explain that the possibilities of syntactic innovation are,

understandably, rather limited, and in the case of Dahl they are confined to one book only:

The BFG. Here Dahl creates a sociolect for the giants, who speak like foreigners that have

not yet mastered the rules of English grammar and do not know how to properly conjugate

verbs.

Aside from the techniques and figures of speech mentioned above, Dahl‘s over-

expressive writing style is filled with hyperbole, onomatopoeic words, interjections and

repetition, including anaphora (repetition of a word or group of words in successive

clauses (Cuddon 40).

As mentioned before, Dahl was not afraid to reuse a word, phrase, concept or

character he liked, and there seem to be specific words so strongly anchored in his idiolect

that they appear repeatedly in almost all of his stories. Words like “filthy”, “marvellous”

and the phrase “shut up” certainly fall into this category.

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4. Roald Dahl in the Czech Republic

4.1 Czech Translations of Roald Dahl

The first Roald Dahl book to be translated into Czech was the short story collection Kiss

Kiss in 1969. Dahl’s Czech children’s debut came two years later with Karlík a továrna

na čokoládu by Jaroslav Kořán and Pavel Šrut with the publishing house Mateřídouška.

The 1980s were a period during which Dahl’s short stories such as Switch Bitch and

Twenty-nine Kisses from Roald Dahl were translated, but his chidren’s books seemed to

have been forgotten.

The next decade brought along with it the translation of a large part of Dahl’s

primary works, such as James and the Giant Peach, The BFG, The Witches and Danny

the Champion of the World. Dahl’s children’s books have experienced a boom especially

in the last decade, during which the translations of The Twits, Fantastic Mr. Fox, and

George’s Marvellous Medicine have emerged. From 2007 onward the publishing house

Knižní klub has republished almost all of Dahl’s children’s book available on the Czech

market with original illustrations and covers by Quentin Blake.

None of Roald Dahl’s children’s books have been retranslated yet, so it is

impossible to compare how different translators approach the same book. All of the

editions you see below contain the same translation, except for the first translation of

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. There are slight differences between this version and

the subsequent ones, and these will be discussed in more detail in the analysis section of

this thesis.

Below is a table showing all of the Czech translations of Roald Dahl children’s

books published in the Czech Republic to this day. These are also the books that will be

22

dealt with in detail in the analysis section. For the purposes of this thesis, the books Boy

and its sequel Going Solo are not considered children’s books, because many sources

categorize them as autobiographies. Audio recordings (such as in the case of The Magic

Finger and The Enormous Crocodile) have not been taken into consideration either.

NAME ORIGINAL TRANSLATOR ILLUSTRATOR PUBLISHER YEAR

Karlík a

továrna na

čokoládu

Charlie and

the Chocolate

Factory

Jaroslav Kořán

and Pavel Šrut

Jaroslav Malák Mateřídouška 1971

Danny,

mistr světa

Danny the

Champion of

the World

Jaroslav Kořán Lubomír Anlauf Albatros 1990

Karlík a

továrna na

čokoládu

Charlie and

the Chocolate

Factory

Jaroslav Kořán

and Pavel Šrut

Jan Paul Winston Smith 1992

Čarodějnice The Witches Hana Parkánová Adolf Born Jan

Kanzelsberger

1993

Jakub a

obří

broskev

James and the

Giant Peach

Jaroslav Kořán

and Pavel Šrut

Markéta

Prachatická

Albatros 1993

MHO The BFG Jan Jařab Eva Vogelová Hynek 1998

Karlík a

továrna na

čokoládu

Charlie and

the Chocolate

Factory

Jaroslav Kořán

and Pavel Šrut

Jan Brychta Academia 2002

Jakub a

obří

broskev

James and the

Giant Peach

Jaroslav Kořán

and Pavel Šrut

Jan Brychta Academia 2003

Prevítovi The Twits Iva Nováčková Jan Brychta Academia 2004

ObrDobr The BFG Jan Jařab Jan Brychta Academia 2005

Karlík a

továrna na

čokoládu

Charlie and

the Chocolate

Factory

Jaroslav Kořán

and Pavel Šrut

Academia 2006

Matylda Matilda Jitka Herynková Quentin Blake Knižní klub 2007,

2011

Jirkova

zázračná

medicína

George’s

Marvellous

Medicine

Jitka Herynková Quentin Blake Knižní klub 2007,

2012

Danny,

mistr světa

Danny the

Champion of

the World

Jaroslav Kořán Quentin Blake Knižní klub 2008,

2012

Fantastický

pan Lišák

Fantastic Mr.

Fox

Jitka Herynková Knižní klub 2009

Jakub a

obří

broskev

James and the

Giant Peach

Jaroslav Kořán

and Pavel Šrut

Quentin Blake Knižní klub 2009

Karlík a

továrna na

čokoládu

Charlie and

the Chocolate

Factory

Jaroslav Kořán

and Pavel Šrut

Quentin Blake Knižní klub 2010,

2013

Prevítovi The Twits Iva Nováčková Quentin Blake Knižní klub 2011

ObrDobr The BFG Jan Jařab Quentin Blake Knižní klub 2012

23

The table above reveals that the book that has been republished most often is

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (a total of six times). This comes as no surprise, seeing

as it is probably Dahl’s best-known work. This is also the reason why it was Dahl’s first

chilren’s book to be published in our country. Many of Dahl’s children’s books (The

Magic Finger, Esio Trot, Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, etc.) and all of his picture

books (The Giraffe, the Pelly and Me, etc.) have yet to be translated into Czech, so let’s

hope it will happen soon.

5. Presentation of Analysed Works

5.1 James and the Giant Peach

Four-year-old James Henry Trotter must go and live with his two

horrible aunts after his parents get eaten up by a rhinocerous. James’

life is pretty miserable for the next three years as he slaves away at

Aunt Sponge’s and Aunt Spiker’s house, lonely, extorted and abused.

One day he meets and man who gives him a bag of strange green

insects and promises him that all of his troubles will disappear when he eats them.

Unfortunately, James manages to drop the bag under a peach tree in the garden and all of

the insects wriggle their way into the soil and disappear. As a result of this incident, a

huge peach appears in the garden the next day, and James’ aunts are determined to earn

a fortune by charging anyone who wishes to see this extraordinary fruit a high fee.

James gets inside the peach and meets a cheeky centipede, an old grass-hopper, a

kind lady-bird, a fearful spider, a pessimistic earthworm, a shy silkworm and an

inconspicuous glow-worm, all of whom have grown human-sized thanks to the magical

24

powers of the mysterious green insects. Together they roll off the hill in their new juicy

home, running over and killing James’ aunts and ending up in the Atlantic Ocean. They

escape a hungry school of sharks by harnessing over five hundred seagulls and flying off

into the clouds to accidentally upset some aggressive Cloud-Men along the way. They

arrive safely in New York City, landing their peach on the spike of the Empire State

Building. The inhabitants of the city are convinced they must be dangerous aliens, until

James introduces his peculiar friends and explains to everyone how harmless and useful

they are. The peach gets eaten up by hundreds of children during a procession through

the streets of New York. Everyone begins a new life and James lives in the stone of the

peach in the middle of Central Park and writes a book about his amazing adventures.

5.2 Fantastic Mr. Fox

Mr. Fox lives in a hole with his wife and four children and spends his

days stealing chickens, ducks and turkeys from three mean farmers

called Boggis, Bunce, and Bean. The farmers grow tired of this

mischievous thief and decide to kill him. They wait outside his home

and manage to shot his tail off just as he is coming out, and when Mr.

Fox succeeds in getting back inside they decide to dig him out along with the rest of his

family and kill them all. At first they try digging with shovels, but the foxes dig deeper

into the interior of the hill and thus the farmers never manage to reach them. So they bring

along heavy machinery to facilitate the work. They dig for three days nonstop, and just

when it looks like there is no hope left, Mr. Fox gets the idea to dig an underground tunnel

leading right into Farmer Boggis’ chicken coop. He sends one of his children to bring

25

back the chickens to Mrs. Fox and tell her to prepare a feast, while he heads off to Farmer

Bunce’s storehouse with his remaining children.

Along the way they meet Badger and his son, and discover that all of the animals

that live inside the hill are starving, because the farmers have it surrounded from all sides

and no one can get out. Mr. Fox invites Badger and his family and all of the other hungry

animals to join them for dinner (Weasel, Rabbit, and Mole). Badger accompanies Mr.

Fox to Bunce’s storehouse, where they help themselves to plucked ducks, hams and

bacon. The second little fox is sent home with the loot.

The last stop is Farmer Bean’s secret cider cellar, where an annoying rat tries to

get them to go away and where they are almost discovered by a maid who comes into the

cellar to take a couple of jars of cider out to the farmers, who are convinced that the

starving foxes are about to leave their hole any minute. All goes well and they return to

the feast with several jars of the delicious beverage. Here they decide that they won’t be

having to go outside anymore, because whenever they get hungry they will be able to visit

the farms via the underground tunnels and take whatever they desire. All the while, the

farmers sit waiting outside the hole in the rain, completely unconscious of everything that

has happened.

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5.3 George’s Marvellous Medicine

George is a small boy who lives on a farm with a miserable and evil

grandmother to whom he has to give medicine while his parents are

away. He decides to reinvent this medicine in the hope that it will

make his old grandmother more bearable. He searches every room

in the house and puts practically everything he can find into a huge

saucepan, and then heats and stirs it. When George’s grandma receives this concoction

the effect is marvellous. Smoke starts coming out of her mouth and she bulges and then

begins to stretch and grow, until she is very thin and taller than the house and her head

goes through the roof. All her pains have disappeared, but she is just as irritating as before.

To prove to her that he invented the potion himself, George gives a dose to one of the

hens in the yard, which grows to the size of a horse.

George’s father is extremely excited about George’s marvellous medicine. He

feeds it to all of the animals on the farm and they all increase significantly in size. His

father asks George to recreate the medicine so that they can sell it to other farmers and

thus end hunger forever. George tries to remember the recipe but forgets some of the

ingredients, so his second attempt is not so successful. A hen that drinks the medicine

grows ridiculously long legs, but her body stays unaltered. George and his father change

the recipe several more times, but each time the result is close to catastrophic. The next

victim, a black cockerel, grows an extremely long neck, and another hen becomes tiny.

In the meantime, the grumpy grandmother is upset that no one is paying any

attention to her, and when she sees George with a mug of something brown in his hand,

she thinks it is tea he has made for himself instead of bringing it to her. She drinks it all

27

and disappears, because it was actually the newest version of George’s medicine, the

shrinking kind, and she drank over fifty doses of it.

5.4 The BFG

In the middle of the night, a little orphan called Sophie looks out of

her window and happens to see a giant with an enormous blowpipe

looking into the bedrooms of nearby buildings. Unfortunately, the

giant notices her and takes her away to Giant Land, where she

discovers that there are nine man-eating giants that go hunting human

“beans” every night in almost all of the countries of the world. The Big Friendly Giant

(BFG) that kidnapped Sophie is the only giant who doesn’t eat humans, and instead feeds

on disgusting Snozzcumbers (black and white cucumber-shaped vegetables). He spends

his time catching and mixing dreams for little girls and boys. He has huge ears that allow

him to hear the faint sounds that dreams make. The BFG speaks in a very strange way

and it is not always easy to understand him, but he is kind to Sophie and hides her from

the other giants so that she doesn’t get eaten up.

But Sophie doesn’t just want to save herself, she wants to stop the horrible people-

eating giants for good, and so she devises a plan. She tells the BFG to mix a special dream

for the Queen of England that will make her realize what is going on, and then they visit

her together and Sophie tries explains the whole situation. The Queen invites them both

for breakfast in the ballroom of the Buckingham Palace and gives orders to her Head of

the Army and Head of the Airforce to follow the BFG to Giant Land with helicopters, tie

up the sleeping giants and bring them back to England.

28

One of the giants, called Fleshlumpeater, wakes up while the Queen’s soldiers are

trying to tie him up and almost eats one of them. Sophie rushes to the rescue and pricks

the giant with the Queen’s brooch, and because the giant is a coward, the BFG tells him

that he has been bitten by a snake. The giant holds still while the BFG pretends to take

the snake’s tooth out of his foot, actually tying him up.

The giants are deposited in a huge pit and become a famous tourist attraction. As

a punishment they are fed nothing but snozzcumbers, except when someone accidentally

falls into the pit. The BFG learns proper English and writes a book about his adventure

with Sophie.

5.5 The Witches

The Witches is the story of a small boy who loses his parents in a car

accident and goes to live with his Norwegian grandmother, who tells

him stories about witches and explains how to recognize them. He

learns that they are bald but wear high-quality wigs, have no toes and

always wear gloves to hide clawed fingernails, and have strange pupils

and blue spit and slightly larger nostrils than an ordinary person. The boy encounters a

witch while playing in a tree one day, but escapes unharmed.

The two plan to go on holiday to Norway, but Grandmother catches pneumonia,

so they are forced to go to a hotel in Bournemouth on the South coast of England instead.

The boy receives two white mice as a present and is secretly training them to walk on a

string behind a folding screen in the hotel ballroom when he accidently witnesses what

should have been a meeting of the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty against

29

Children, but is actually an annual meeting of all of the witches in England, including the

Grand High Witch herself.

The Grand High Witch reveals her true appearance and makes a speech about her

plan to turn all the children of England into mice. She demonstrates her Formula 86

Delayed Action Mouse-Maker on a boy named Bruno Jenkins, and just when it looks like

he will escape unharmed for the second time, our boy is sniffed out and turned into a

mouse as well.

With the help of his adventurous grandmother, he steals the special mouse-making

potion from the Grand High Witch’s hotel room, and manages to pour it into the soup that

will be served to all the witches during dinner time. Meanwhile, Bruno is returned to his

shocked parents. All the witches turn into mice and are killed by the hotel personnel, and

the boy and his grandmother decide to get rid of all the witches in the world because they

now know the address of the Grand High Witch’s headquarters. They talk excitedly about

how they will go about destroying witches in every country and how much fun it will be.

5.6 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory

Roald Dahl’s most famous children’s book is the story of little Charlie

Bucket, who is extremely poor and lives with his four grandparents and

parents near the biggest chocolate factory in the world. The owner of

the factory, Mr. Willy Wonka, has decided to hide five golden tickets

in ordinary chocolate bars around the world, and whoever finds one

will be allowed to enter the gates of his factory, which have been closed not only to the

public but also to workers for the past ten years. They will also receive a life-time supply

30

of chocolate and sweets after the visit. On the third attempt, Charlie miraculously finds

one of the tickets and takes his grandfather Joe along with him to see the factory.

Inside the chocolate factory the visitors see wonderful things. They meet the ever-

singing Oompa-Loompas, go down a chocolate river in a boat made of an enormous

boiled sweet, see Wonka’s top-secret inventing room and travel around the factory in his

Great Glass Elevator.

All of the other winners of the golden ticket have horrible personalities. Augustus

Gloop is greedy and fat, Veruca Salt is a spoilt brat, Violet Beauregarde has a nasty habit

of chewing gum all day, and Mike Teavee does nothing but watch television. One by one,

the children’s bad traits and habits get them into trouble and they end up having to leave

early along with their parents. Augustus is sucked up a chocolate pipe, Veruca gets pushed

into the rubbish chute, Violet goes blue and bloated like a blueberry, and Mike turns up

miniature inside a television screen. Soon the only child left is Charlie, and Willy Wonka

reveals to him that the golden tickets were actually a method of finding someone who

could inherit the factory, because Wonka has no children of his own. He invites Charlie

and his whole family to come and live with him in the factory and help him run it.

5.7 Matilda

Matilda is a small prodigy. At the age of one and a half she could speak

perfectly and by the time she was three she could read and visited the

public library on her own to devour Dickens and other classics.

Matilda’s father, Mr. Wormwood, is a crooked second-hand car

dealer, and her mother does nothing but play bingo every afternoon

and watch television in the evening. They are both too ignorant and selfish to notice what

31

an incredible child they have, and take much more notice of Matilda’s older brother Mike,

who is rather ordinary. Often they treat her unfairly, but Matilda has no trouble getting

back at them. She puts superglue on her father’s hat, exchanges his hair tonic for peroxide,

and hides a talking parrot up the chimney in order to make her terrified parents believe

their house is haunted.

Matilda is also great at mathematics, but the only person who seems to appreciate

her genius is Matilda’s form teacher, Miss Honey. She tries to talk to Matilda’s parents

about it, but to no avail. The school is ruled by the imposing Miss Trunchbull, a

headmistress that hates children and enjoys humiliating and physically punishing them.

She throws girls by their pigtails, pulls little boys’ ears and hair and keeps them standing

in the corner on one foot, and when she discovers that a boy named Bruce Bogtrotter has

stolen some of her chocolate cake, she makes him eat an entire chocolate cake in front of

the whole school during assembly.

One day, Matilda’s friend Lavender puts a newt in the headmistress’s jug of water

and when Matilda gets blamed for it, she discovers that she can make objects move with

her willpower. She tips over the Trunchbull’s glass of water and practices her powers at

home with her father’s cigar. She finds out that Miss Honey is actually the Trunchbull’s

niece and has been mistreated all her life by the horrible woman, so she pretends to be

Miss Honey’s deceased father and makes the chalk write messages to the Trunchbull on

a blackboard. The messages say that she should leave Miss Honey alone and give her

back the house that is rightly hers according to the will Dr. Honey left behind. The

Trunchbull faints and moves away the following day.

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Matilda’s parents move to Spain because the police is after Mr. Wormwood, and

Matilda stays behind and moves in with Miss Honey. She loses her powers because she

has been moved up to the highest class and her brain is no longer bored.

5.8 Danny the Champion of the World

Danny’s mother died when he was just four months old, and he lives

with his father in a caravan next to the filling-station they own. They

are quite poor, but Danny’s father is a wonderful parent and Danny has

a beautiful and exciting childhood that he wouldn’t trade for the world.

One night, Danny wakes up and notices that his father is not in his

bed. When he returns Danny discovers that his father has a deep and dark secret: he loves

to poach pheasants. The best place to go is Victor Hazell’s wood, about six miles from

Danny’s home. Danny’s father says he finds great satisfaction in poaching in Mr. Hazell’s

wood, for he is an arrogant, evil man who deserves to be robbed of some game.

Danny gradually discovers that almost everyone in the village is into poaching,

including some of the men he most respects and fears, such as Doctor Spencer, Sergeant

Samways, and even Reverend Clipstone. Danny finds out about some of the cleverest and

most exciting methods poachers use, including The Horse-Hair Stopper and The Sticky

Hat.

Danny’s father doesn’t return home from his second poaching trip, and nine-year-

old Danny takes one of the cars from the filling-station and goes out to find him. He finds

his father lying at the botton of a deep pit that the keepers have dug in the wood to catch

33

poachers. His ankle is broken. With the help of a towing rope that he finds in the car,

Danny pulls his father out of the pit and helps him home.

Danny and his father come up with a fantastic plan to poach almost all of Mr.

Hazell’s pheasants. They want to do this because Hazell’s annual shooting party is

coming up in a couple of days. They fill soaked raisins with powder from the sleeping

pills that Danny’s father has brought home from the hospital and give these to the

pheasants the night before the shooting party. The pheasants go up to roost in the trees

and fall to the ground once the sleeping pills start to work. Danny and his father gather a

total of one hundred and twenty pheasants and ask Mrs. Clipstone to bring them to the

filling-station on the following day in her specially-designed pram. As Mrs. Clipstone is

arriving, the pheasants begin to wake up and try to fly away, but seeing as they are still

under the influence of the sleeping pills, they are unable to get far from the filling-station.

Mr. Hazell sees this and becomes furious, but there is nothing he can do, because

pheasants are property of whoever’s land they are on. The effect of the sleeping pills

gradually wears off, and the pheasants fly away, not toward Mr. Hazell’s wood, however,

but in the opposite direction.

Doctor Spencer manages to gather six pheasants that have overdosed on the

sleeping pills and died, and he divides them between Mrs. Clipstone, Sergeant Samways

and Danny’s father.

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5.9 The Twits

Mr. and Mrs. Twit are a repulsive older married couple. Mr. Twit has

a filthy beard he never washes that covers almost his entire face and

Mrs. Twit has become as ugly as the ugly thoughts she has been having

her whole life. The couple entertain themselves by playing nasty pranks

on each other. Mrs. Twit puts her glass eye in her husband’s beer to

scare him and mixes worms into his spaghetti, and to get back at her Mr. Twit places a

frog in his wife’s bed and makes her believe she is shrinking by gradually elongating the

walking stick she uses to beat animals and children as well as the chair she usually sits

on. He then pretends to help her by tying her legs to an iron ring in the ground and her

hands to a hundred balloons in a fake attempt to stretch her back to her original height.

He further decides to cut the strings by which his wife is attached to the ground and let

her fly away for good, but Mrs. Twit bites through the balloon strings and comes back

down to beat her husband with her elongated walking stick.

The couple are cruel and hunt birds by putting glue on a tree in their garden. The

birds that perch on this tree inevitably end up in the Twits’ weekly bird pie. One day, a

group of boys climb up the tree and get stuck there. They manage to escape only by

leaving behind their trousers.

Mr. Twit also keeps a family of four monkeys in a cage in the garden and forces

them to do tricks upside down. One day a Roly-Poly Bird from Africa visits the monkeys

and helps warn the other birds not to sit on the glue-covered tree. Mr. and Mrs. Twit are

furious and decide to go out and buy guns in order to shoot the birds instead. While they

are out, the monkeys escape from the cage and with the help of the birds they decide to

take revenge on their evil owners and turn them upside down. They achieve this by gluing

35

every piece of furniture to the ceiling of the house, including the living room carpet. The

birds also manage to place a small amount of glue on the Twits’ heads unnoticed, and

when the couple return they are astonished to see their new inverted home. Confused and

dizzy, they hope to solve the problem by standing on their heads and get stuck in this

position for good. They gradually shrink away and a week later, when a man comes along

to read the gas meter, he finds nothing but their clothes lying on the living room floor.

6. Theoretical Background

6.1 Nonsense as a Literary Device

In the previous chapter, an attempt was made to summarize the principal characteristics

of Roald Dahl’s writing style, in order to anticipate the issues translators may have to face

during the translation of his works. This summarization revealed that these characteristics

correspond closely to those of nonsense, not as a genre but rather as a literary device. This

means that while Dahl employs nonsense to make his stories funnier, crazier and

generally more appealing to children, his books should not be defined as nonsense

literature per se, since, as will be demonstrated throughout this chapter, they do not always

fulfil the typical requirements of the genre, especially on a textual level.

So what exactly is nonsense? According to Tigges, literary nonsense:

“...balances a multiplicity of meaning with a simultaneous absence of meaning.

This balance is effected by the play with the rules of language, logic, [...] and

representation, or combination of these. [...] It must invite the reader to interpretation

and avoid the suggestion that there is a deeper meaning (connotations and associations)

36

because these lead to nothing. [...] The greater the distance between what is presented,

the expectations that were evoked, and the frustration of these expectations, the more

nonsensical the effect will be.” (qtd. in Kratochvilová 5).

One of the principal elements of nonsense is therefore paradox. According to

Stewart, it is “an activity by which the world is disorganised and reorganised” (vii).

Nonsense has several characteristic features, the first and most prominent being a playlike

character. This means that nonsensical play consists in the manipulation of the context

of messages. Other literary works are often alluded to and parodied in nonsense texts. The

genre tends to reject metaphors, because it does not function on the basis of symbolism,

and as mentioned earlier, Dahl himself uses metaphors almost exclusively for insults,

favouring other stylistic figures in his work for children.

Another important feature is the balance and tension between two opposed

elements, namely between the reasonable and the absurd. The beauty of nonsensical

episodes is that they occur within the framework of an everyday reality. Furthermore, the

tension that builds up between these two opposing sides is never released, and the author

often fails to give the reader any clues as to exactly how the story should be understood

and interpreted.

Nonsense writers do not create fantasy worlds, but rather insert unmotivated

events and bizarre characters into familiar and conventional settings, or viceversa. This

is essentially what makes nonsense nonsensical, it is a series of glitches in the matrix, an

absurdity that unabashedly stands out in a sea of ordinary operations and situations. As

Kratochvilová puts it, “literary nonsense does not appeal to our dreamlike imagination,

but to our linguistic imagination” (55). This statement presents another feature of

nonsense, and that is predominantly verbal nature. The opposition in nonsense is created

between a presence and absence of meaning and between coherence and incoherence,

which, according to Lecercle, appears most frequently on the semantic level (31).

37

One feature of nonsense that may not be immediately apparent is a certain lack of

emotional involvement. The nonsensical is exaggerated, shocking and obscene, but does

not provoke or offend the reader, who is aware of the fact that these hyperbolical displays

are meant to be taken with a pinch of salt and accepted as mere manifestations of the

genre. No one should therefore be horrified when a boy in one of Dahl’s books mixes

together every chemical substance he can find around the house only to subsequently

spoonfeed it to a grumpy relative. Dahl expects his readers (and their parents) to

understand that his books are not calling upon children to give their grandparents

potentially lethal concoctions. The entire story is, in fact, so exaggerated that it is not

expected to be taken seriously or literally.

Nonsense frustrates the reader’s expectations: there are no clear boundaries

between right and wrong, good and evil, or even normal and peculiar. Dahl as a children’s

writer does not fully respect this criteria of nonsense, because his stories have a fairly

classical fairytale structure, with a happy ending and a moral lesson for those who deserve

it, although there are cases where the border between what is considered right and wrong

is blurred. In Danny the Champion of the World, the main character is shocked to discover

that most of the adults he knows poach, even though it is an illegal activity, but because

they poach from someone who is a bad person, the evilness of poaching is

counterbalanced. Mr. Fox steals from three mean farmers, and claims that their

personalities justify the theft. In The Witches, there is no happy ending: the main character

remains a mouse for the rest of his life, despite defeating his enemies. There is no return

to the normal or original state of things, so common in traditional children’s stories.

A patchwork structure is also typical for nonsense (the texts lack consistency and

are often episodical) as well as a lack of point (events often occur simply for the sake of

occurring, without any clear connection to the plot or development of the story). Charlie

38

and the Chocolate Factory is made up of longer chapters closely connected to the

development of the story on one hand, and shorter, more random chapters, which

contribute little to the plot but the main purpose of which seems to be amusement. The

remainder of Dahl’s books analysed in this thesis, however, do not have a patchwork

structure.

Nonsense writers delight in the use of inversions and reversals in several forms.

One of the most common forms is a spoonerism, and this is also one of Dahl’s favourite

stylistic figures, as mentioned earlier. Individual words can also be reversed by play with

their spelling: their letters may be reversed (e.g. d instead of b), replaced, omitted or

added. Palindromes and mirror writing (Dahl employs this technique abundantly in his

book Esio Trot, which unfotunately cannot be subject to analysis in this thesis because it

has not yet been translated into Czech) are also frequently used. All of these operations

challenge the idea of acceptable and conventional ways of both reading and writing. As

for fixed expressions and idioms, these can be inverted by emphasizing the literal

meaning either of the utterance as whole, or of its individual elements (Kratochvilová

19).

Nonsense likes to play with boundaries and infinity, and there is often a surplus

of signification (importance is given to information that would normally be considered

insignificant) or overloading of the text with information that is irrevelant to a better

understanding of the text. The genre also plays with the boundary between what one sees

on the page and how this information changes when it is said out loud (words can be

strangely spelled to look like a foreign language, but when pronounced they translate into

words in the native language). Although Dahl himself does not employ these techniques

often, they are a common feature in the texts of other, more traditional nonsense writers.

39

Another popular device is the use of simultaneity through punning, i.e. using a

word or two words with the same sound in its/their two possible meanings. (Newmark

217). Simultaneity is also expressed via portmanteaus, already mentioned in the chapter

on Dahl’s writing style. New words, however, are also created through unmotivated

neologisms, which often end up looking like regular words because they respect the rules

of phonetics and morphology. They are especially common with the names of non-

existent flora and fauna. Examples of most of the nonsense literary devices listed above

can be found in Dahl’s work will be presented and commented on in the chapter on

translation analysis.

Some of Dahl’s books reflect not only nonsense as a literary device, but also as a

literary genre. One of the most common themes in literary nonsense includes the

depiction of eccentricity and madness. Dahl’s list of peculiar characters is practically

endless, ranging from Willy Wonka, the chocolate factory owner, to the feared Miss

Trunchbull, headmistress of Matilda’s school. James’s friend the Centipede and George’s

evil grandmother cannot be considered entirely normal either. Mr. and Mrs. Twit are

completely ridiculous, and Sophie’s friend the BFG with his distinctive idiolect is far

from ordinary, to say the least.

Other frequent motifs are violence, cruelty and punishments. There is an

abundance of physical punishments and cruelty in most of Dahl’s books, such as caning

and ear-pulling. Children are bullied, forced to eat an entire chocolate cake, their

favourite books are deliberately torn to pieces, they are killed in a myriad of ways using

magic, and eaten by giants, to name a few other examples. One thing that most of these

acts of violence have in common is that they are almost exclusively committed against

children (fortunately, good children always manage to get revenge). As mentioned

earlier, these motifs should be viewed with a certain amount of emotional detachment.

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Literary nonsense is also fascinated by inventions, which are most prominent in

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where Wonka takes his visitors to the inventing room

to show them hair toffee, everlasting gobstoppers and chewing gum that tastes like a

three-course meal. Another important, though accidental, invention is the original version

of George’s medicine.

Another theme unique to the genre are parts of the body, or an entire body, that

have grown out of proportion. Dahl embraces this theme and chickens in George’s

Marvellous Medicine grow exaggeratedly long legs and necks, while in Charlie and the

Chocolate Factory, Mike Teavee gets stretched and becomes extremely thin in the

process, and Violet Beauregarde closely resembles a blueberry by turning blue and

becoming almost completely round. Dahl extends this theme to fruit in James and the

Giant Peach.

Voyages and journeys also play an important role, and this is why James travels

across the entire Atlantic Ocean, and Sophie’s kidnapper takes her to the land of giants.

Themes absent from nonsense texts are God and religion, and Dahl strictly adheres to

this rule in his children’s books.

Some of Dahl’s stories contain more themes of nonsense literature than others

(they seem to be practically absent from, for example, Danny the Champion of the World,

while Charlie and the Chocolate Factory could almost be considered prototypical of

nonsense literature, containing almost all of the themes mentioned above). Dahl seems

to have found a healthy balance in his children’s stories between the traditional folk tale

and literally nonsense, both on a linguistic and thematic level.

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6.2 Translating Nonsense

Not much academic literature deals specifically with the translation of nonsense, which

is why the following section is partly based on Eva Kratochvilova’s Master‘s thesis from

2001, as well as on general translation strategies and theories that can also be employed

in the process of translating nonsense prose. According to Kratochvilová, “all basic

features and operations of the genre can be preserved in the target texts, provided the

translator is aware of them“ (43). The analysis of Dahl’s Czech translations will reveal

that this statement is of extreme importance. Nonsense as a literary device must be

recognized in the first place. It demands an in-depth analysis of the text and the

relationship between its individual components (all the way down to the morphemic

level), otherwise its inner logic gets weakened.

Levý divides the translation process into three crucial phases: comprehension of

the source text, correct interpretation, and restylization to fit the target text (50). Errors

may and do occur on all three of these levels, which can lead to a decrease in the accuracy

and quality of the translation. He also distinguishes between two norms in translation.

The first one is the reproductive norm, according to which accuracy and faithfulness are

the most important factors in translation. The second is the artistic norm, which favours

the aesthetical aspect of the translation, and tends to gravitate toward free translation and

adaptation (82). A translator must correctly evaluate and determine the importance of

both of these norms in the case of each translation and make choices during the translation

process accordingly. Because of the nature of nonsense, an emphasis should be placed on

the artistic norm during its translation.

Kratochvilová points out that literary nonsense “is undoubtedly a minor literary

genre, yet it has enjoyed the attention of translators, who are probably attracted by the

42

challenging work connected to the translation of the playful, self-reflective texts” (45). It

should be added that the translation of nonsense, despite being popular among translators,

is also one of the most challenging genres to translate, and is a frequent “victim” of

retranslation, thanks to its suitability to free translation. One need look no further than the

most iconic nonsense work Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and its various Czech

translations for proof of this statement.

Lecercle claims that English “is particularly suited for nonsensical linguistic play

because of its analyticity” (167). While it is true that the nonsense tradition is deeply

rooted in anglophone cultures, the popularity of the translations of Carroll and Lear’s

work demonstrates that it is undoubtedly enjoyed in other countries as well. It is necessary

to mention that this popularity is predominantly the merit of the respective translators in

those countries, proving that English is far from being the only language suited for

nonsense.

There are essentially three ways to translate fixed expressions and idioms that are

part of nonsensical linguistic play. According to Mona Baker, fixed expressions and

idioms are “frozen patterns of language which allow little or no variation of form and, in

the case of idioms, often carry meaning that cannot be deduced from their individual

components” (63). If a translator is lucky, a more or less corresponding phrase will exist

in the target language. Needless to say that this is a not very frequent. When such a

situation does arise, however, conversion is relatively straightforward and allows for a

faithful translation. Sometimes, fixed expressions or idioms can be misleading because

they have both a reasonable literal and idiomatic interpretation. Translators may therefore

easily accept the literal interpretation and miss the play on idiom (Baker 66).

The most common situation is the non-existence of a corresponding phrase in the

target language, because idioms and fixed expressions are often culture-specific. In such

43

cases different lexical items are used to express the same idea in the target text (74).

However, in a nonsense text both literal and idiomatic meaning has its place and purpose,

an it is often very difficult to find a solution that will preserve both of these meanings, if

not fully, then at least partially.

In such cases, translators have several options. The standard strategy is to preserve

the deeper, idiomatic meaning and logic of the operation and change the individual words,

which necessitates alterations in the context reflecting the literal meaning of the fixed

expression (Kratochvilová 50). Such a strategy is considered successful because none or

little of the pun is lost. However, it is not always possible to come up with a satisfactory

substitution, and sometimes the translator chooses to artificially keep both the individual

words and the deeper meaning at the cost of producing a slightly unnatural, unidiomatic

expression in the target language.

The translator may also choose to preserve the literal meaning and alter the

idiomatic one, while ensuring that it still fits the context. Sometimes the translator may

even replace a fixed expression with an utterly different one, thus altering both the literal

and the idiomatic meanings of the expression. Context is the most important aspect in

both of these cases, and if an idiomatic meaning does not fit well into the entire text, it

must be sacrificed, or, if possible (which it often isn’t), changed accordingly.

When it is impossible for the translator to come up with a satisfactory solution in

the target language, omission is employed as a last resort, but he or she may attempt to

make up for it through compensation, that is, “employing the operation elsewhere, when

the target language allows it, even though the source text does not require it at that

place” (Kratochvilová 52). The purpose of this strategy is to preserve the style of the

44

source text, and it will therefore be one of the strategies analysed in translations of

Dahl’s books.

When it comes to dealing with spoonerisms and play with spelling, translators

often don’t make use of a corresponding operation in the target language, despite the fact

that it would allow them to do so. Kratochvilová’s analysis of Czech translations of the

“Jabberwocky” confirms this statement, showing that translators most often either omit

or substitute the operation with a different one, such as adding or omitting a letter in the

case of letter replacement, or punning where the source text omits letters in words.

Onič points out that the “survival of alliterations in the translation process is

mostly random” and when it does occur, there is no proof of a clear strategy focusing on

this linguistic element (273). Naturally, the nature of the target language will sometimes

force the translator to make sacrifices, especially if the lexical items of the alliteration (or

rhyme) are very closely connected to the context. As mentioned before, context is of

higher significance than stylistic figures in translation. This is why it is necessary that

translators consider the text in its entirety before attempting to translate its parts.

According to the words of Snell-Hornby, text is a “complex, multi-dimensional structure

consisting of more than the mere sum of its parts...whereby an analysis of its parts cannot

provide an understanding of the whole” (69). Textual analysis therefore needs to be the

first step in every translation process.

Repetition is also a significant operation of literary nonsense and it should be

treated as such in translations. Despite this, translators are often indifferent to the stylistic

significance of repetition and choose to omit it. Another prominent nonsense device is the

use of simultaneity, namely punning and neologisms. Lecercle distinguishes between

three types of puns: those playing on identity (pun proper), those playing on similarity

(interchanging two similar-sounding words), and puns playing with fixed expressions

45

(1994). Puns proper touch the borders of translatability and it is sometimes necessary to

employ omission or paraphrase in such cases and translate only part of the meaning. The

translator should not, however, ignore the fact that there is a pun in the source text and

translate literally. Once again, the coherence of the text must be maintained at all costs.It

is up to the translator to decide what should be preserved and what to sacrifice in each

particular situation. This decision-making process is used in the translation of the majority

of puns (Kratochvilová 63).

In some cases, it may be feasible to preserve both of the meanings that the pun is

based on. Despite the fact that it is tempting for a translator to select an option that is

more or less equivalent to the source text, he or she must be very careful about the

resulting impression of the pun in the target text. An overly earnest attempt at finding a

corresponding pun in the target language may cause the entire structure to seem somewhat

artificial. In such cases, it is better for the translator to remain slightly restrained and opt

for a more “invisible” solution. According to Venuti’s theory on a translator’s invisibility,

“a translated text...is judged acceptable...when it reads fluently, when the absence of any

linguistic or stylistic peculiarities makes it seem transparent, giving the appearance that

it reflects the foreign writer’s personality or intention or the essential meaning of the

foreign text – the appearance, in other words, that the translation is not in fact a

translation, but the ‘original‘”(1). The translator’s main objective is therefore to render

the translation as fluid and natural as possible, and he or she must attempt to find the right

balance between creativity and apparent authenticity.

Where possible, puns can be substituted by a different nonsense operation, or, as

in the case of fixed expressions and idioms, compensation may be used elsewhere, if the

target texts permits us to do so. Omission, once again, is the least desirable but

unfortunately sometimes inevitable option.

46

Translators must always keep in mind that whatever solution they decide to

employ may have effects elsewhere in the text, especially since repetition is a common

nonsense literary device and phrases or concepts are often recycled throughout the text.

Solutions that work nicely in one passage may cause the coherence of the text to

completely collapse elsewhere, and finding a one-size-fits-all translation is often tricky

business.

Kratochvilová points out that translators are under constant pressure to decide

which feature of the text has the highest significance and should therefore be preserved

and which could possibly be sacrificed (68). Mostly there is no right or wrong decision

and each occurrence should be evaluated individually. Very often it is a no-win situation,

because part of the beauty and specifics of the nonsense genre is always lost in the

process. It is due to the verbal nature of nonsense that translators are forced to make these

highly complex decisions.

The second type of punning (on similarity) usually occurs in direct speech and is

meant predominantly to amuse the reader. A word is exchanged for another similar-

sounding one with a completely different meaning, but it is still possible for the reader to

infer the correct word from the context of the phrase. Sometimes these types of puns are

not commented on elsewhere in the text, in which case their translation is relatively simple

and it is up to the translator to select the suitable lexical items in the target language. Puns

playing on similarity that are tightly connected to context are less frequent, but require a

more thorough analysis on the translator’s part.

The translation of neologisms is an area where the translator can really

demonstrate his or her creative side, but even here it is necessary to adhere to certain

rules. Newmark claims that “it is [the translator‘s] duty to re-create any neologism he

meets on the basis of the source language neologism,” (149) meaning that the method of

47

neologism creation should be preserved in the target text. At the same time, the translation

should preserve the meaning of the word the neologism is based on, or replace it with a

close equivalent. There are essentially four types of neologisms: unmotivated, motivated,

portmanteaus and false coinages. False coinages are especially tricky to translate, because

they give a new meaning to an already existing word, and this meaning is not always

suited for the target language. However, it is a strategy that Roald Dahl seldom uses in

his books for children, therefore it will not be subject to analysis in this thesis.

Once again, translators often don’t employ corresponding operations in the target

text, so unmotivated neologisms are sometimes translated as motivated ones or

portmanteaus, and viceversa. Compensation is also used, as in the case of puns and

idioms. What is essential is that the meaning of the target language neologism

corresponds to the source language one, even if it is based on a considerably different

word (it must evoke a similar image in the reader’s mind).

According to Kratochvilová, Czech translators are very apt at naturalising

neologisms; most of the time they seem to integrate them successfully into the target

language and they usually show great resemblance to ordinary Czech words (83).

Robu claims that “translating nonsense language can be viewed as the translation

of another translation,” (52) and in a way she is right. A translator must first decipher the

nonsense code, only then is he or she capable of a faithful rendition of the source text in

the target language. The entire process should begin with a thorough reading of the text

as a whole, a stylistic analysis moving from macro to micro level. According to Snell-

Hornby, the first level is that of syntax (sentence structure and length, arrangement of

information, nominal and verbal style), followed by the level of semantics and lexis (word

formation, the usage of multiple dimension with metaphor, wordplay and pun). The

lowest level concerns elements within words, such as alliteration and assonance (121).

48

A careful analysis should be carried out to ensure that all of the devices literary

nonsense employs have firstly been recognized and then correctly interpreted. Once this

is done, the final step is to attempt to recreate as many of the nonsense operations as

possible, while maintaining the naturalness and fluency of the target text. In the case of

necessity, different operations or compensation may be employed where the target text

allows it, and omission should be considered a last resort. All three of these phases are of

equal importance to a successful translation and should never be underestimated.

6.3 Nonsense in Children’s Literature

In order for us to comprehend the role and importance of nonsense in children’s literature,

it is necessary to present a brief history of the development of the genre. Rudd correctly

points out that literature for children and the concept of childhood itself was “constructed

differently at different times and for different groups within any particular period.”

(2010:12). During the Middle Ages, the difference between adults and children was not

recognized at all, and most of what we define as children’s literature today was passed

down from generation to generation in oral form. Children became more literate with the

invention of the printing press. However, all of the available literature was purely of a

didactical nature. The seventeenth century gave rise to religious texts for children. One

hundred years later, John Locke and Jean-Jacque Rousseau presented a new concept of

childhood, in which they considered enjoyment and pleasure important aids to learning

(Bobulová et al. 20). This was when the first collections of fairy tales and adventure

stories appeared. During the Romantic Movement in the ninteenth century, there was a

regression to folk tales, and impossible fantasies became acceptable reading material for

49

children. It was also a time when many new translations of children’s literature appeared

(Frimmelová, 16-19).

However, it wasn’t until the mid-nineteenth century that the real turning point for

children’s literature came, most notably with the publication of Carroll’s Alice’s

Adventures in Wonderland. During this period, novelists explored “the limits of social

expectation through linguistic experiment” and presented the “idea of nonsense as a force

of the imagination, of nonsense as a challenge to the logic of adulthood and the law of

civil life” (Lerer 191). Language became a game for them, not merely a static tool. What

these writers wanted to demonstrate was the fact that languages are completely arbitrary

and conventional systems of signification. They refused to be slaves to language and

succumb to the rules human kind had assigned it. Carroll noted in his textbook Symbolic

Logic that “no word has a meaning inseparably attached to it; a word means what the

speaker intends by it, and what the hearer understands by it, and that is all” (qtd. in Lerer

193). He maintained that any writer of a book is fully authorized to attach any meaning

he likes to any word or phrase he intends to use.

The book Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland was revolutionary in many ways.

According to Hunt it did two startling things: it changed the idea of what children were

allowed to think and, as a consequence, changed the tone of voice in children’s books,

introducing liberty of thought, which, at the time, was something unthinkable. He goes

on to explain that the book places itself squarely on the side of an intelligent child-reader,

one that does not need to be spoon-fed the rules and ways of the world and prescribed

universal patterns of linguistic behaviour and creation. The implied child reader is treated

as an equal rather than a subordinate. This approach made it possible to explore more

complex and “unacceptable” themes, because writers considered the child reading their

book capable of handling them (2009).

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In the end, as Booth points out, all narratives are didactic, regardless of stylistic

devices or genre (1988). The educational aspect of the literature of this brave new world,

which suddenly belongs more to the child-reader than the writer for children, is just as

present as it had always been in what adults had defined as literature for children. The

main difference, however, was that it was presented in a less imposing way, disguised as

humour and satire. The message, however, lived on behind the veil of the nonsensical.

For example, according to Rudd, Roald Dahl can be seen as “remarkably didactic in…his

disapproval of television…and of badly behaved children in general” (2010:6) in Charlie

and the Chocolate Factory. Despite the fact that the children get punished for their nasty

habits in a very amusing way, there is no doubt about why they are being punished.

The two best-known representatives of the nonsense genre are naturally Lewis

Carroll and Edward Lear. The latter revelled in the sounds of words used in new ways,

and in his poems, words that have specific, dictionary meanings fracture into nonsense.

His verses seem to respond to the social experience of childish vision and, in turn, to the

ways in which a child’s life seems to be upside down. It is no wonder, then, that most of

the later writers of nonsense prose and poetry wrote primarily for children. Sir Walter

Scott, though not traditionally considered a nonsense writer, also had a significant

influence on the genre and opened verbal doors to later novelists by coming up with “new

words, or strange sounds, that for most readers seemed all too close to nonsense” (Lerer

191).

So how do nonsense and children’s literature fit together? According to Lerer,

nonsense “offers more than play or foolishness. It bridges the discourses of adult and

children’s literature, and it crystallizes our social and aesthetic attitudes towards words

and their relationship to worldly things, human intention, and the pictorial imagination”

(192). Adults imagine the child as coming into this world as a sort of tabula rasa, ready

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to absorb and assimilate the information he or she is exposed to. The child is presented

with a set of guidelines on how to behave, speak, write, and what to expect from others

in various life situations, but to the child these linguistic and behavioural choices are new,

and may therefore seem arbitrary. A child’s liberal mind will question and attempt to bend

these rules in order to understand the structure of the world around him or her. And this

process directly reflects the fundamental concept of nonsense literature.

Lerer’s theory that nonsense literature mirrors a child’s understanding of the world

is undermined in a study by Marlene Dolitsky, in which she aims to show that children’s

understanding of and reaction to nonsense differs substantially from that of adults as well

as from what adults imagine it to be. Dolitsky took two groups of nine-year-old children

and taped their class discussions of a French translation of Carroll’s poem

“Jabberwocky”. The study revealed that the children’s first reaction to the neologism-

layered text was one of rejection and reluctance. They were aware of the fact that the

author had wanted to express something by what he wrote down, and the words certainly

evoked feelings and impressions, but the prevailing sentiment was one of uncertainty and

inadequacy. The children did not seem to comprehend the playfulness of the “language

game” and were predominantly disturbed by Carroll’s work. However, it is possible that

in a scholastic environment the children felt pressured to find a “correct” answer, one

which, in this case, did not exist. It is possible that they might have reacted differently

had they been reading the poem, for example, at home with their parents.

Gradually, the teacher managed to generate discussion, and the children began

expressing their opinions and describing things such as overt actions, processes and

personality, the dynamics of the story (with emphasis on movement), and covert

processes. Dolitsky considers the last two topics an indicator of greater linguistic

maturity, pointing out that these more mature children also participated more actively in

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the discussion and were more likely to want to persuade the others of their opinion. These

children mentioned things like the general plot and what the characters in the poem may

be thinking, as opposed to the first group, which focused mainly on describing the

individual elements and characters of the story.

Not yet understanding the specifics of the nonsense genre, the children in the study

seemed reluctant to accept the idea that they themselves are free to assign any meaning

they desire to the words. The results of the study suggests that the children did not

understand the “rules of the game”. Their approach remained intellectual as they

attempted to analyse the poem. Could this mean that the comprehension of nonsense is

an acquired skill? One that enlightened parents should practice with their children in order

to demonstrate that man is master of words, and not the other way around? According to

Dolitsky, a child’s reaction to nonsense may also depend on his or her psychological state

of mind (the children’s interpretations of the poem varied significantly, and could have

therefore been influenced by their immediate mood) and was influenced less by what the

word meant to the child and more by what it associated the word with.

Just as in the case of adults, the children assigned word meaning mainly by

phonetic or semantic association, metaphoric strategy or strategy of superstructure

(Dolitsky 50). Unlike in the case of adults, children gave very few compound, or

portmanteau, interpretations, and they showed a distinctive preference for defining

nominal neologisms. Their metalinguistic awareness was made apparent by the

maintenance of word classes (55). The interesting thing is that the children often couldn’t

explain how they had arrived at certain interpretations, meaning that it seems to be an

automatic process. Dolitsky concludes her study by stating that “it would seem that

language-to-thought relations are more fixed and rigid for children than for adults and

53

that the ability to assign meaning consciously and not automatically is a function of

maturity and language development” (72).

Dolitsky claims that “the newness of the Jabberwocky words and images it gave

rise to encouraged the use of both simile and metaphor” (48), but the children tended to

anchor their interpretations into relatively transparent phrases, which suggests that

children need the right mix of sense and nonsense to be able to appreciate the genre at all

and not feel completely lost. One needs to keep in mind, however, that Jabberwocky is a

very demanding example of nonsense literature, which can often take on much more

simplistic forms that are less challenging, especially for younger children. Carroll, Lear

and other nonsense writers (including Dahl, for the purpose of this thesis, although he is

not officially characterized as such) wrote many works where they managed to find what

seemed like the perfect balance between the familiar and the borderline, so as not to

intimidate the child-reader. However, one tends to question the claim that their literature

was meant predominantly for children, for they seemed almost to be writing for a

fictitious reader, one that has a child’s view of the world but an adult’s comprehension of

it. Perhaps they were actually writing for the child every adult has hidden away inside.

A child reading nonsense literature clearly reacts in much the same way as Alice

herself did upon hearing the “Jabberwocky” poem for the first time: “Somehow it seems

to fill my head with ideas – only I don’t know exactly what they are!” (Carroll 197). But

nonsense is not about meaning, it is more about questioning the very meaning of meaning,

and it could therefore possibly be the most stimulating literary genre for children, inciting

imagination and forcing the mind to go beyond the conventional and the obvious.

Dolitsky’s study demonstrates, however, that a child must have a certain linguistic

maturity in order to be able to appreciate the processes.

54

As Lerer concludes in his chapter on sense and nonsense in children’s literature,

“nonsense is more than play, it takes us to the limits of expression” (208). In this sense,

the nonsense form is much like visual art: it is characterized by an incongruity between

production and consumption. The receptor’s interpretation of a painting is never

equivalent to the artist’s intention. Every individual is free to draw his or her own

conclusions and visual art (especially the abstract kind) is often evaluated more on the

basis of the emotion it evokes than on established quantitative and qualitative standards.

Nonsense is the next level in linguistic stimulation of the power to create in one’s mind.

A suitable comparison here could be made between a child watching television versus a

child reading a book. The former is presented with a myriad of audio-visual and spatial

information and most of the imagining has been done for him or her. The latter has

nothing but words on paper, and it is up to the brain to create the necessary images, sounds

and actions. Nonsense takes this process one step further: the child can no longer rely on

the meaning of words to guide him through the story, he or she is asked to leave the

security of definition and grammar and venture beyond, into an unknown and fascinating

world.

7. Translation Analysis

7.1 Objective and Methodology

The purpose of the following thesis is not to provide an exhaustive analysis of the

individual translations, but rather to pinpoint examples of the author’s literary style and

look into how the individual translators dealt with them. This thesis is not focused on the

poetry in Dahl’s books for two reasons. Firstly, because only two of the nine books under

55

analysis contain larger segments of poetry worth analysing. Secondly, the poems in these

two books were translated by the same person, Pavel Šrut, who worked with Jaroslav

Kořán on Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and James and the Giant Peach. The

stylistic figures discussed here are widely used in poetry, but the process of and

motivations for their translation differ largely, because their significance is generally

higher in poetry than it is in prose. It is for these reasons that the poems have not been

included in the analysis.

The nine English source texts and their Czech translations were compared

manually, with emphasis on the aspects of author’s style mentioned above, namely

lexical, semantic, and phonological innovation and their subcategories. Instances of these

stylistic figures were collected in Excel tables and each translator’s choices were critically

analysed. Other issues pertaining to children’s literature, such as foreignization,

domestication, and appropriateness, were dealt with marginally where necessary. The

sections are divided by author, with an introductory paragraph containing basic

information on each translator (where possible – it was not possible to obtain any

information regarding the translator Iva Nováčková).

One of the methodological issues of the analysis was what to define as deliberate

alliteration. Alliterations occur naturally in language, especially in the case of two-word

alliterations. For the purpose of this thesis, deliberate alliterations were selected from

descriptive passages (where they were usually located at the end of a sentence) and direct

speech (very often insults and exclamations).

In some cases, I have given myself the liberty of humbly offering my personal

opinion on the translational choices, occasionally even suggesting solutions that would

have been more faithful to the source text style. The aim is not to pass judgement on

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which of the translators is more apt at translating nonsense, puns and other stylistic

figures. Each translator has translated a different Dahl book, and each book has its specific

characteristics and translation obstacles. It would therefore be difficult to make an

objective comparison in this sense. The goal is simply to draw attention to the fact that

there is more to Dahl than just a chocolate factory, a giant peach and a captivating

storyline. This is a descriptive thesis, and should be regarded as such.

Typographical innovation was not dealt with in the analysis. The general tendency

of the translators is to remain loyal to the author’s typographical scheme, to the point

where sometimes the Czech translation has an unnatural intonation when read out loud

(what an English speaker emphasizes through italics in a sentence is not necessarily

equivalent to what a Czech speaker would emphasize). Occasionally italics are substituted

for bold lettering and vice versa, and sometimes the italics are completely omitted, but

this does not have a significant effect on the end result. Furthermore, it would be

impossible to determine whether the typographical choices were made by the translator

him/herself, or by the publishing house.

Roald Dahl’s writing style has, until recently, been largely overlooked, because

critics have always reacted to aspects related to the content of his sentences rather than

their structure. The hypothesis presented in this thesis takes this fact into consideration,

and the assumption is that the translators will mostly overlook the stylistic figures present

in the text and will focus more on the semantic content, tending either to translate literally

or opting for less creative and more common idiomatic choices.

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7.2 Charlie, Danny and James

One third of the Czech translations of Dahl’s children’s books were done by Jaroslav

Kořán, born in Prague in 1940. Aside from being a professional translator, he is also a

scriptwriter, dramaturgist and photographer. He has translated over seventy British and

American novels into Czech by authors such as Kurt Vonnegut, John Wyndham or

Charles Bukowski (Klimecká 39-40). He has also translated many of Dahl’s works for

adults, such as Pig (Prase), Claud’s Dog (Claudův pes), Twenty Nine Kisses from Roald

Dahl (Jedenadvacet polibků), Someone Like You (Líbej mě, líbej), etc.

For practical purposes, the three translations analysed in this chapter will

henceforth be referred to only by the first word of their title and names of their principal

characters, i.e. Charlie, Danny and James.

Charlie was, as mentioned earlier, translated in 1971 for the publishing house

Mateřídouška. It is, rather uncommonly for a translational debut, an abridged version

totalling 96 pages, where the poetry has been cut down by at least one half and several

chapters, such as “Square Sweets That Look Round”, have been completely omitted.

Reading it, however, one gets the sensation that the book was first translated in its entirety

and then later abridged. There are some minor differences between this translation and

the unabridged version that came later (for example, Mr. Fickelgruber’s name has not

been translated into Czech), but most of the differences are an inevitable consequence of

the abridgement. What is peculiar about this first Czech version is the erroneous

numbering of chapters. Instead of chapters 19 and 20, chapters 17 and 18 are followed

again by chapter 17 and 18. Furthermore, chapter 20 precedes chapter 27, and chapters

21 through 26 are missing completely. However, the chronological order of the text is

58

correct, therefore this is to be considered a mere typographical error and not the

consequence of abridgement.

Another interesting fact is that Charlie, being the first Dahl children’s book to be

translated into Czech, is a translation of Dahl’s original 1964 book, where the Oompa-

Loompas are depicted as “a tribe of 3,000 amiable black pygmies who have been imported

by Mr. Willy Wonka from the very deepest and darkest part of the African jungle where

no white man had been before.” (Treglown, qtd. in Howard) After years of criticism, Dahl

rewrote the passage about the Oompa-Loompas, making their skin rosy-white and giving

them long fair hair. The Czech translation, however, was never revised, so the Oompa-

Loompas in it still look like they were made out of chocolate, according to a comment

made by one of the children.

In his translations, Kořán has been very creative with many of the charactonyms

of Dahl’s characters. A charactonym is a name of a fictional character that suggests a

distinctive trait of that character. As Carta points out, names get translated in children’s

literature more often than in literature for adults because there is the assumption that

children may experience difficulty in pronouncing and reading foreign names, and also

because the names in children’s stories are often connotative (43). In James, Aunts

Sponge and Spiker become Tetička Bečková and Brčková. Not only does Kořán hold on

to the alliteration, but he skilfully selects names that continue to reflect the physical

appearance of the two women. In Charlie, Augustus Gloop is August Gdoule, a

misspelling of kdoule, which pretty much sums up the boy’s figure. Violet Beauregarde

is Fialka Garderóbová, and even though the the last name is not necessary a charactonym,

it reflects the original English one in the sense that it is of French origin. “Fialka” is a

literal translation that fits well into the story when the poor girl experiences the

consequences of eating blueberry-pie-flavoured chewing gum:

59

“Violet, you’re turning violet, Violet!”

(CCF 124)

„Vždyť ty nám fialovíš, Fialko!“ (KTČ

96)

Veruca Salt becomes Saltini in Czech, perhaps suggesting an Italian background

(not a charactonym, however), and Mike Teavee is none other than Miky Telekuk, a

semantically richer choice than the author’s. With all of these secondary characters‘

names translated into Czech, it comes as a surprise that the principal character, Charlie

Bucket, remains a Bucket. Willy Wonka’s name is transferred without change, but his

competitors all receive a beautiful Czech compound-word equivalent: Fickelgruber –

Krutichvost, Prodnose – Prkonos, Slugworth – Zakrejcar. And Kořán is much more

convincing than Dahl when it comes to naming Russian characters. Charlotte Russe

doesn’t sound Slavic at all; Karla Karlovna Rusevová is much more realistic. “Cows that

give chocolate milk” seemed a bit too long for the translator, so he simply called them

“krávy kakaodojky”, gaining some plus points for alliteration in the process, which may

have been an act of compensation for alliterations not translated in other places.

James Henry Trotter loses his middle name and becomes Jakub Tamtudy, and

sometimes Kuba for his new insect friends (the Grasshopper, mainly). His friends lose

the capital letter in their names, and their gender is emphasized: Centipede – stonožník,

Earthworm – žížalák, Silkworm – hedvábník, despite the source text referring to the

Silkworm as “she”, etc.)

Roald Dahl may seem like he invents a lot of words in his children’s stories

(especially when appearing alongside other words that are neologisms), but the reality is

that many of the words a reader may consider made-up actually aren’t, they are simply

uncommon, therefore even an adult reader may sometimes have trouble recognizing

them. Towards the end of James, the citizens of New York are guessing what kind of

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creatures the travellers on the peach could be. Here are some of the words used, their

definitions, and their Czech translations (only the last four are actually neologisms):

Creature Translation Definition

wampus godzila a creature in American folklore, variously

described as some kind of fearsome variation on

a cougar

manticore krokuta a Persian legendary creature similar to the

Egyptian sphinx

gorgon mrchodlav in Greek mythology, the term commonly refers

to any of three sisters who have hair made of

living, venomous snakes, as well as a horrifying

visage that turns those who beheld her to stone

cockatrice bazilišek a mythical beast, essentially a two-legged

dragon with a rooster's head

whangdoodle tlamouník -

snozzwanger vrtičenich -

vermicious

knid

hnida

chlamstavá

-

prock pazřout -

In Danny, Kořán decided not to translate almost any of the names, surnames,

nicknames, or places in the book, except for a car called Baby Austin (Bejbinka) and

Soapo, the name of Danny’s birthday present: a full-size toy car made from soap boxes

and bicycle wheels. The translator opted for “bednolet”, inspired no doubt by the Czech

word “prskolet”, used to describe a small and not very powerful motorcycle. Kořán is

rather inconsistent in his choices of which names to translate and which to simply transfer.

In Danny, he translates only the name of a certain Lord Thistlethwaite to Lord

Polyethylen. Admittedly it is a humourous solution, most likely motivated by the fact that

Thistlethwaite would be quite a challenge for children, and possibly for parents as well,

in terms of pronunciation. He also simplifies the spelling of Hazell to Hazel and Clipstone

to Clipston, although here the motivation behind his decision is less clear, because the

spelling of other character surnames is not simplified.

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It is interesting to see how Kořán deals with the BFG, who makes a short

appearance in Danny at the beginning of the book, as part of a story Danny‘s father is

telling. Danny was published in 1990, and the BFG is translated here as “Obr kamarád”.

Eight years Jan Jařab renames him Moc Hodný Obr, or MHO, in the Czech translation of

the The BFG, only to rename him again seven years later to ObrDobr in 2005. It is likely

that the abbreviation did not appeal to Czech readers, possibly because abbreviations are

less frequent in their native language.

In terms of domestication and foreignization, the translator has made what can be

regarded as the necessary changes in order for children to understand the story better.

These changes mostly involve food and some explicitation regarding Anglosaxon culture.

The Empire State Building acquires the definition “nejvyšší newyorská budova” in the

translation, and the cruise ship Queen Mary becomes “slavná Queen Mary”. Yorkshire

pudding is described as “zlatohnědé křupavé těstíčko” and raisins are dipped into rum

instead of gin. Marshmallows are translated as “ibiškový fondán”. Most Czech children

nowadays know what marshmallows are, but at the time of the translation maybe even

the translator wasn’t sure. And for possibly the same reason, zip gun has been translated

as “prak”.

In terms of translating repetition Kořán often doesn’t respect the author’s

repetition, which is sometimes results in a loss of rhythm, as the following example

demonstrates:

“Then at last, when he could stand it

no longer, he would peel back a tiny bit

of paper wrapping at one corner to

expose a tiny bit of chocolate, and then

he would take just a tiny nibble...”

(CCF 17)

„Teprve když už to nemohl déle

vydržetodloupl z jednoho růžku

papírový obal a uždíbl z čokolády

malinký kousíček...“ (KTČ 11)

62

Without the repetition of tiny in the Czech translation, the phrase completely loses

its cadence and becomes much more banal. But repetition in Roald Dahl’s work is not

sentence or even paragraph-limited, it usually weaves through his entire novel. Dahl

deliberately uses the same words and phrases in various places in his books and

translators, in an attempt to diversify his vocabulary in the translation, destroy Dahl’s

deliberate storytelling scheme.

The beauty of Dahl’s characters lies, among other things, in the fact that they are

often given very original and entertaining idiolects. In Danny, Dahl presents us with a

certain Sergeant Samways, who is described as follows:

“Sergeant Samways had a funny habit of sometimes putting the letter h

in front of words that shouldn’t have an h there at all. And as though to

balance things out, he would take away the h from all the words that

should have begun with that letter.” (D 199)

Kořán opted for a very different description of the sergeant’s way of speaking in his

translation:

„Seržant Samways mluvil, jako když má rýmu, i když ve skutečnosti žádnou

rýmu neměl. Prostě tak směšně mluvil.“(D 138)

This is one example of how translators employ a nonsense operation in the target

text which is different to the source text. Essentially, instead of alternating between

adding and omitting a certain letter, the translator replaces at least one consonant in the

majority of words with the letter b, to make it look as though the speaker hasn’t blown

his nose. The difference between these two approaches is substantial:

“What, may I hask, is ‘appenin‘ around

‘ere?” (D 199)

„Bida, bida, bida. Copak se to tady děje,

sbíb-li se btát?“(D 138)

Kořán’s translation is not as effective, especially when read out loud (not to

mention that this is quite a difficult task). He could have chosen to give the sergeant a

foreign accent, which would have allowed for a more structured and logical idiolect

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(foreigners tend to repeat similar mistakes in pronunciation and grammar when speaking

English).

The translator actively substitutes the imperial system for the metric in all three

books, but for some reason his currency of choice in Charlie is American dollars, despite

there being no mention anywhere in the source text that the story takes place in the United

States:

“A WHOLE fifty pence!” (CCF 60)

“The coins were all five-penny pieces.”

(CCF 63)

„Celý dolar!“(KTČ 46)

„Byly to samé deseticenty.“(KTČ 48)

One of the most prominent aspects of Dahl’s style being alliterations, it is vital to

look at how Kořán has dealt with them. Below is a list of alliterations that have been

successfully transferred into the target language:

Panic and pandemonium Pozdvižení a panika

Stopped and stared Zastavovali a zirali

Enraptured, enchanted Uchvácen, unešen

Twistings and turnings Obrátek a zatáček

Misty moonlit Mlhavá měsíční

Glints and glimmers Prosvítal a probleskoval

Considering that the analysis was one done on three two-hundred-page books, the

number of alliterations in the Czech translations by Kořán is very low. For example, Dahl

uses the phrase “panic and pandemonium” a couple of times, but Kořán translates it

slightly differently the second time, without using an alliteration (zděšení a panika). The

phrase “obrátek a zatáček” has been highlighted in red because, despite it not being an

alliteration, it is still a rhyming assonance and both words have an equal number of

syllables, so the effect is very euphonic.

The following is a selection of alliterations that, instead, have not been translated

as such:

64

great greedy gulps hltali plnými doušky

rude and rambunctious chováš se jako hulvát a pořád jen každého

urážíš

sighing long and loud hluboce si povzdechla

deaf as a doorknob hluchý jak poleno

rumble and roar burácel a divoce ryčel

sloshing and splashing stříkaly a tryskaly

mystic and marvellous čarovná a podivuhodná

whizzing whirring svištivý vířivý

blowing up like a balloon nafukuješ se jako balón

sizzled like a sausage upečou jako sele

jiggled and joggled strkají a tlačí

sliding and slithering klouzali a smekali se

foul and filthy sprostý a hanlivý

jumpy as a jack-rabbit nervózní jako opice

madder than a mackerel užírá vzteky

bloated old blue-faced baboon starý odulý paviáne

hovering like a helicopter stál ve vzduchu jak helikoptera

smug superior little smile samolibý nadřazený úsměv

flabby folds of fat sádelnatými faldy

the water came pouring and roaring

down upon them, bouncing and

smashing and sloshing and slashing and

swashing and swirling and surging and

whirling and gurgling and gushing and

rushing

voda se valila a lila a vířila a prýštila a

kanula, linula se a proudila a chlístala a

kypěla a zurčela a šplíchala a crčela a hučela

a romonila cáchala

A closer look at the table on the preceding page reveals that the left column

consists mainly of adjectives and similes, and that two-word alliterations prevail.

Sometimes, as in the case of “rude and rambunctious”, words are translated as entire

phrases and therefore it is impossible to stick to the alliteration. Sometimes the translated

phrase rhymes, but not enough to significantly stand out in the text. Similes are most often

converted to idioms that are commonly used in the target language, rather than

experimenting and trying to evoke a new image for the sake of alliteration. For example,

the simile “hluchý jako had” would not have the same effect as “hluchý jako poleno”, a

common comparison in the Czech language, despite the fact that snakes don’t have ears

either. The English phrase “madder than a mackerel” is completely nonsensical, because

a fish does not experience such a negative emotion, yet the concept of excessive anger is

65

still transmitted well and the phrase serves its purpose while at the same time pleasing the

ear. Kořán has opted for an unmarked utterance for the sake of naturalness, had he chosen

a more original, and therefore marked solution, the phrase might have sounded too

artificial. Invisibility over alliteration, in this case.

However, some of the phrases in the table above could definitely have been

adapted for alliteration, for example, “hrubý a hanlivý” or “visel ve vzduchu jako

vrtulník.” Also, the words in the last, long phrase could have been swapped around in

order to have those beginning with the same letter next to each other. Since their order is

random, it would have been a feasible solution.

Occasionally, however, the translation alliterates better than the original text, or

the translator makes up for the lack of alliterations by placing one where the author did

not (compensation). In such cases, “My father’s deep dark secret” becomes “Tátovo

temnotemné tajemství” and “...they were dumbfounded. They were bewildered and

dazzled” becomes “...zaraženi. Zmateni a zmámeni.” The former example is one of those

rare instances in which it is possible to use corresponding lexical items in the target

language that begin with the same letter. It is more a question of coincidence than

deliberate choice.

Kořán does a great job with some of Dahl’s neologisms. “Swudge” is Willy

Wonka’s name for a sweet, minty, edible grass. Kořán has called it “mentolín”,

emphasizing the mintiness. “Sugar power”, which is what Wonka’s Great Glass Elevator

runs on, becomes “cukrolina”, which evokes the word “elektřina”.

“Splendiferous” is actually translated as the portmanteau „báchořečný“ in Czech,

despite being an existing, archaic word in the source language. Butterscotch and buttergin

become rumola a slivokola.

66

There are several instances where the Kořán is forced to deal with punning. He

does quite well with Violet’s “By gum, it’s gum” by opting for the more complex “U

všech bublinovejch žvejkaček, to je žvejda!”. Other similar exclamations include “u sta

hadic a žebříků”, which seems like an even more suitable exclamation for a fireman than

“Snakes and Ladders”, despite it being a popular board game, and “u sta injekčních jehel”

is surely a more original thing for a doctor to say than simply “Great Scott”. Kořán’s best

translation of play on words is probably the following:

Storeroom number 77 – all the

beans, cocoa beans, coffee beans, jelly

beans and has beans.

“Has beans?” cried Violet

Beauregarde.

“You’re one yourself!” said Mr.

Wonka. (CCF 112)

Skladiště číslo 77 – všechny boby

– kakaové boby, kávové boby, závodní

boby a nabobi.

„Nabobi?“ vypískla Fialka

Garderóbová.

„Právě takoví, jako jseš ty!“ řekl

pan Wonka. (KTČ 86-87)

The pun in this case was a tricky one to translate, because Kořán had to find a

word in which some kind of “bob” would be contained, and this word needed to be

relevant to Willy Wonka’s answer. The reason that Wonka replies “You’re one yourself!”

is because Violet will soon be unvoluntarily leaving the factory. “Nabob”, which

describes a wealthy, influential or powerful person, was a suitable choice here because it

satisfies both criteria. It would have been even more effective (and less nonsensical) had

the translator substituted Violet for Veruca, because she is the rich girl, spoilt girl of the

group, therefore Wonka’s answer would have suited her much better.

There is another pun in the same chapter that involves the act of whipping whipped

cream with whips, which were translated into Czech as “pomlázky a metly”, and the act

of whipping is “šlehání pomlázkou”. This doesn’t work quite as well as the original,

unfortunately. Immediately afterwards, Mr. Wonka explains that a poached egg isn’t a

poached egg unless someone has poached it, and Kořán translates this segment using

67

“sázená vejce”, adding that they „nestojí za nic, když je nezasadíš a nepočkáš, až

vyrostou.“

It is inevitable that some play on words used by Roald Dahl will be untranslatable

from English to Czech. Here are some examples of puns that got lost along the way:

“It seems that almost everyone around

here is loved!” said James. “How nice

this is!”

“Not me!” cried Centipede happily. “I

am a pest and I’m proud of it! Oh, I am

such a shocking dreadful pest!” (JGP

101)

„Tak mi připadá, že jste tady všichni

k pomilovaní!“ řekl Jakub. „To se mi

líbí!“

„Já ne,“ vyhrkl šťastně Stonožník. „Já

jsem škůdce a jsem na to hrdý! Ach, jaký

já jsem odporný škůdce!“(JOB 85)

The pun here revolves around the word pest, which has two meanings in English:

that of an insect that destroys garden plants, and that of an annoying person. It is this

second definition of pest that could not be transferred into the target text, because in

Czech the word has only the former meaning. The Centipede’s final exclamation reminds

the reader of the phrase “Stop being such a pest!” which adults sometimes use with

naughty children.

“She’ll come to a sticky end one day,

chewing all that gum, you see if she

doesn’t.” (CCF 49)

„Uvidíte, že se jí to věčné přežvykování

jednou nevyplatí.“(KTČ 37)

Here Charlie’s Grandma Georgina is talking about the chewing-gum addict Violet

Beauregarde, and she has chosen her words well, since chewing gum is adhesive, and will

in fact cause Violet some serious problems. There is no equivalent phrase in Czech.

“Whatever it is,” my father said, “I wish

to heavens she’d stop running. It’ll give

the game away.” (D 190)

„Ať je to co je to,“ řekl táta, „byl bych

rád, kdyby už přestala utíkat. Ještě

všechno zpacká.“(D 135)

Danny’s father expresses his preoccupation about Mrs. Clipstone “giving the

game away”, which of course means to reveal a plan or strategy, but in this case there is

another semantic level involved, because Mrs. Clipstone is hiding a large number of

pheasants in her pram, and pheasants are game.

68

There is also a scene in Charlie where Wonka is trying to explain that he has

square-shaped sweets that look around with their eyes, except he uses the word “round”

instead of “around” and so the children think he is trying to tell them that the square

sweets in fact look spherical. There is a discussion between Wonka and the children,

during which the words “look round” and “are round” are played upon. Round was

translated into Czech as “vykulené”, but this is not the same as “kulaté”, so the passage

loses much of its brilliance.

Kořán also has a tendency for omission. In some cases, he decides to omit a

passage because there is simply no need for it in Czech and it would be untranslatable:

“Although actually you are quite right. She isn’t really a worm at all.

Glow-worms are never worms. They are simply lady fireflies without

wings.” (JGP 50)

Since glow-worm in Czech is larva světlušky, there is no need to talk about

worms. Other times the translator omits because he considers the phrase redundant:

“The creatures, some sitting on chairs,

others reclining on a sofa, were all

watching him intently…So what would

you call it if you saw a grass-hopper as

large as a dog? As large as a large dog.

You could hardly call that an insect,

could you? There was an Old-Green-

Grasshopper as large as a large dog

sitting directly across the room from

James now…And next to the Old-

Green-Grasshopper, there was an

enormous spider.” (JGP 39)

„Stvoření, některá rozložená v křeslech,

jiná pohodlně natažená na pohovce, ho

pozorně sledovala…Ale jak byste nazvali

kobylku velkou jako pes? Velkou jako

veliký pes…A vedle konipasa si hovel

obrovský pavouk…“ (JOB 34)

“This is Charlie. How d’you do? And

how d’you do? And how d’you do

again? He is pleased to meet you.”

(CCF 13)

„A tohle je Karlík.“(KTČ 8)

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7.3 George, Mr. Fox and Matilda

Jitka Herynková, translator of Fantastic Mr. Fox, George’s Marvellous Medicine and

Matilda, was born in 1946 in Olomouc, where she studied English and Spanish at the

Palacký University. For many years she worked as a librarian here and in 1990 she was

appointed head of the Foreign Relations Office. She has translated novels by several

authors into Czech, including Ezra Pound, Jeanne Birdsall, Syrie James and Helen

Lawson (Obec překladatelů).

Below is a list of alliterations and their Czech equivalents in in Matilda, Fantasic

Mr. Fox and George’s Marvellous Medicine:

scrunching and scraping vrzání a škrábání

dead as a dumpling nadobro mrtvou

dead as a dingbat nepověsíme jako nějakýho toulavýho

psa

miserable midget mizernej skrčku, trpaslíku

watching and waiting hlídání a čekání

stopped and sighed and sadly shook

his head

odmlčel, povzdechl si a smutně zavrtěl

hlavou

furry frump chlupatý bubáku

her boilers going to burst už to nevydrží

huge horny hand velikánskou rohovitou ruku

frisky as a ferret čilá jako fretka, zase jako čiperka

goggled and gaped vyjeveně zírala s otevřenou pusou

bugs and bogles štěnice a strašidla

dotty as a doughnut úplně praštěná

gasped and gurgled oddechovala a chrčela

fried to a frizzle, boiled like a beetroot Usmažím se jak brambůrek, uvařím se

jako vajíčko

mad and marvellous bláznivé i báječné

smoking blue and bubbling and

frothing and foaming

modře kouří a bublá a šumí a pění

pork prickles, tender trotters, bristle

blight and swine sickness

Svědění, slabé nohy, sněť štětin a

prasečí nemoc

Helga’s hairset úžasný účes

always complaining, grousing,

grouching, grumbling, griping

stěžují, bručí, brblá, vrčí, remcá

particularly poisonous obzvlášť otravné

sting me into saying vyprovokovat k vyjádření

boasting and bullying chvástání a sekýrování

70

poisonous parent zlého rodiče

sensible and solemn rozumně a vážně

pale and pleasant přijemný bledý

deep and dangerous hluboký hrozivý

formidable female hrůzu nahánějící žena

flushed and flustered zardělá a rozechvělá

stank like a sewer smrdělo to tu jako v kanále

barmy as a bedbug je protivná jako štěnice

plain plump person nehezkou obtloustlou osobu

sneaked like a serpent proplížil jako had

bursting blister prasklej puchejři

fleabitten fungus mizerná houbo

clotted carbuncle malá nádhero

As you can see, the number of alliterations in the Czech translation is minimal,

even though it would have easily been possible to alliterate more. Clotted carbuncle, for

example, could have been “ucpaný uhr”, miserable midget could have become “mizernej

mrňousi”, and “her boiler’s going to burst” might have been translated as “brzy bouchne”,

etc. Herynková, however, did not consider it a priority to retain what Rudd considers one

of the most prominent aspects of Roald Dahl’s style in the Czech version of the books.

Obviously, the translators are not expected to be able to transfer all of the stylistic figures

into the target language, and admittedly, in some cases it would be difficult, if not

impossible, and may lower the overall quality of the translation, making it sound

unnatural. However, had Dahl been alive and fluent in Czech, he might have been

disappointed to discover how little the translators of his children’s books are playing with

language and sounds.

Herynková also chooses not to translate similes like “dead as a dumpling/dingbat”

and “dotty as a doughnut” as such, because death and madness and other abstract concepts

are not usually used in similes in the Czech language. She merely emphasizes the extent

to which one is dotty or dead (“nadobro mrtvý”, “úplně praštěný”). Her choices regarding

the translation of insults are somewhat inconsistent, because sometimes she translates

71

them literally (bursting blister - prasklej puchejři) and other times she opts for a more

practical and general solution (clotted carbuncle - mála nádhero). Especially in Matilda,

the theme of the insults is often some unalluring physical condition (scab, blister, fungus,

wart), but this becomes much less prominent in the Czech translation.

As for domestication, Parkánová explains that “Bovril and Ovaltine” are

“instantní polévka a instantní káva bez kofeinu”, and a “soap-opera” is “americký doják

na pokračování”. However, Golden Syrup remains “zlatý syrup”, despite the fact that this

is a relatively unknown ingredient in Czech cuisine.

When it comes to translating names, in Matilda, Herynková transfers all of the

first names of the characters into Czech (Matilda – Matylda, Michael – Michal, Lavender

- Levandule) and gives the important adults charactonyms that reflect their personalities:

Wormwoods - Kazisvětovi, Miss Trunchbull – Slečna Kruťáková, Miss Honey – Slečna

Dobrotová. Matilda’s classmates’ last names also get translated. Herynková creates most

of the Czech versions of their surnames by translating one part of the English last name

and adding a suffix to it:

Rupert Entwistle Rupert Zamotal

Amanda Thripp Amanda Mašlatá

Bruce Bogtrotter Bruce Bahnil

Eric Ink Erik Inkoust

Julius Rottwinkle Julius Hnilík

Ollie Bogwhistle Ollie Bonzík

Another ingenious name translation is Crunchem Hall, Matilda’s school,

translated as “Drtičova škola”.

In Fantastic Mr. Fox, the only character names are those of the three farmers:

Boggis, Bunce and Bean, “one fat, one short, one lean”. Their Czech names also reflect

their physical appearance: Soudek, Suk a Stýblo. All the other characters in the story are

72

animals without special names, and in George’s Marvellous Medicine, the only person

whose name is revealed to the reader is that of Killy Kranky, George’s father, and this

Herynková translated as Kazimír Chorý. The motivation of both the author and the

translator for these choices is baffling; George’s father is neither easily irritated nor ill.

There are some great examples of play on words in Matilda. During a scene where

Matilda’s class are taught by the Trunchbull, the headmistress gives one of the students a

multiplication problem, managing to insult him at the same time:

“I have eight coconuts, eight monkey-

nuts and eight nutty little idiots like you.

How many nuts do I have altogether?”

(M 218)

„Mám osm kokosových ořechů, osm

burských oříšků a osm natvrdlých idiotů

jako jsi ty. Kolik mám těch tvrdých

kousků dohromady?“ (M 220)

Here the author plays upon two different meanings of the word nut: the fruit and

the crazy person. This is a very tricky pun to translate, and Herynková attempts to make

up for the lack of homonyms by using the word “natvrdlý” to describe the student and

“tvrdý” to describe the different types of nuts. The translator made a decent attempt, but

the Czech version is far less witty than the original. For the sake of puns this could be

labelled quite a translation “oříšek”.

On another occasion, Trunchbull asks a different student to spell a word for her:

“Now then, spell write.”

“Which one?” Nigel asked. “The thing

you do with a pen or the one that means

the opposite of wrong?” (M 144-145)

„Tak tedy, hláskůj slovo oběd.“

„Které?“ zeptal se Nigel. „To, co se jí v

poledne, nebo myslíte objet autem?“(M

146)

This translation was good choice, because the translator managed to find an

equivalent pair of words in the target language. “Oběd” and “objet” are homophones that

are pronounced in the same way but have a different spelling, much like “write” and

“right”. The situation becomes a little trickier when yet another student is asked to spell

the word ‘what’:

73

“Spell what, you idiot! Spell the word

‘what’!”

“W…O…T,” Eric said, answering too

quickly.

“Ah yes, I know,” Eric said. “It’s got an

H in it. W…H…O…T. It’s easy.”

…“It must be W…H…O…T…T.” (M

152)

„Hláskůj když, tupče! Hláskůj slovo

‘když’!“

„G…Y…Š,“ odpověděl Erik příliš

rychle.

„No jo, už vím,“ opravil se Erik. „Je

tam D. G...D...Y...Š. To je lehké.“

…„Musí to být G…D…I…Š.“ (M 154)

The problem here is that the mistakes the child is making in Czech are not very

credible. A child would not be very likely to not hear the letter D in the word “když”, as

in the case of Eric’s first attempt. He would have been more likely not to hear the K. The

mistakes the child is making in English are much more believable, because he is

attempting to spell the word “what” phonetically.

When the Trunchbull forces Bruce Bogtrotter to eat an enormous chocolate cake

in front of the whole school, she is inspired by the English idiomatic proverb “you can’t

have your cake and eat it”:

“And now you’ve got cake. What’s

more, you’re going to eat it.” (M 127)

„A teď máš dort. Co chceš víc, budeš ho

jíst!“ (M 129)

Not only does the Czech translation completely ignore this reference (which is

understandable, because the equivalent does not exist in Czech) but the translation of

“what’s more” is incorrect (it should something more like “a navíc, a ještě k tomu”). In

order to translate it correctly, however, the translator would have had to understand the

relationship between the verbs in the first and second sentence, which she evidently

didn’t.

Mrs. Wormwood explains to Miss Honey that the secret to a happy life lies in

setting the right priorities for oneself:

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“Looks is more important than books.”

(M 97)

„Výzor je důležitější než názor.“ (M 98)

The archaic Slovakian word “výzor” is very awkward in this phrase. It is possible

that most younger children would not know what this word means. It might have been

more effective to opt for a solution like “líčeni je důležitější než učení”.

Homophones once again play a role in George’s Marvellous Medicine, when

George goes looking into the garden shed for animal pills to add to his magic mixture:

“For horses with hoarse throats”

(GMM 35)

„Pro koně při chrapotu.“ (JZM 32)

Once again, this is a difficult phrase to translate into Czech. However, the phrase

would not necessary have to contain a homonymy to be entertaining and interesting. One

could utilize the name of an animal and disease that have a similar sound. An example

could be “pro psy s psotníkem”. The fact that psotník is a disease dogs don’t suffer from,

because it afflicts only small children, does not matter, because a horse suffering from a

hoarse throat is just as, if not more, ridiculous. Furthermore, “psotník” can be used in a

figurative sense, where the phrase “Já z toho dostanu psotník” suggests that one has gotten

a big fright. This phrase could be played upon in the translation: “Pro psy, co dostali

psotník.”

Miss Honey’s spoonerism COSY NOOK/NOSEY COOK is translated as the

phrases “útulný kout” and “koukej se zout”. Unfortunately, the Czech translation is not a

spoonerism, it merely rhymes. The translator could have tried to be more creative and

chosen any name for the house that would allow for the switching of the first letters of

both words to create a new, hopefully funny meaning.

One last thing worth noting is that in Fantastic Mr. Fox, Herynková tactfully omits

a belching scene:

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“This delicious meal…” he began, and

then stopped. In the silence that

followed, he let fly a tremendous belch.

“And I hope you have enjoyed it as

much as I have.” He let fly another

colossal belch.

“Better out than in,” said Badger. (FMF

77)

„To výtečné jídlo…“ začal a pak se

odmlčel. „…mě úplně odrovnalo,“

dodal.

„A doufám, že si to užíváte tak pěkně

jako já.“

„Vůbec o tom nepochybuj,“ řekl

Jezevec. (FPL 70-71)

This is the only instance in all of the Czech translations of Dahl’s children’s books

where a translator has decided to omit undesirable conduct (despite the fact that the books

are full of inappropriate behaviour, often worse than a bit of belching). It would be

interesting to find out the motivation behind this choice, and whether it was Herynková

or the publishing house who considered this passage inappropriate for children.

7.4 The BFG

Born in 1965, translator Jan Jařab is both an author and translator of children’s books

(W.P. Du Bois, Maurice Sendak). He has also published translations of modern American

fiction (Charles Bukowski, Richard Brautigan, Thomas Berger), essays by Susan Sontag

and nonfiction. His original profession is medicine, however, he has dedicated his time

to human rights since 1999 – first in the Czech government, later in the European

Commission, and today he works for the European Office of the UN in Brussels

(Meander).

As mentioned earlier, The BFG is a unique book because in it, Dahl has created a

character with a very peculiar way of speaking. The language that the BFG uses reflects

Dahl’s writing style, and should therefore be considered his most representative work and

the most important book in this analysis. It is layered to the brim with puns, alliterations,

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spoonerisms, neologisms and nonsense. Much of the story revolves around the dialogue

between little Sophie and the Big Friendly Giant, so most of the text consists of direct

speech. The other giants in the story speak in much the same manner as the BFG, which

is why Rudd defined it as a sociolect.

The BFG explains to Sophie that he talks in a strange way because he never had

the chance to learn proper English. His speech is therefore not unlike that of a foreigner.

Occasionally, however, in short sentences, he does manage to use the correct verb tense.

There is also a chapter in the book which reveals how the BFG writes. His writing is full

of misspellings, lacks proper punctuation, and reflects his idiolect:

Today I is sitting in class and I discover that if I is staring very hard at

my teecher in a spheshal way…

…go and fetch you hat and cote…

…and then I is hearing my mummy’s voice saying wake up your brekfust

is reddy. (103)

The following list compares the main characteristics of the BFG’s speech in

English and Czech. Jařab’s task was to create a similar idiolect in Czech for the giant:

Overuse and misuse of the present continuous tense

Examples: “I is needing to listen only to silence when I is mixing up such a

knotty plexicated dream as this.” and “They is allowing me to hear absolutely every

single twiddly little thing.” Since the Czech language doesn’t have continuous tenses, the

translator decided to express the BFG’s errors through the overuse of personal pronouns.

In Czech the use of personal pronouns in sentences is redundant, and could be one of the

common mistakes a foreigner learning Czech and coming from an English-speaking

country, where personal pronouns are obligatory in sentences, may make:

“Tell me what you is seeing.”

(34)

„Řekni mi, co ty vidíš.“ (30)

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Failure to conjugate the verb be

Example: “Meanings is not important.” “Is” is the verbal form the BFG uses

most often, even when talking about himself or in the plural. Jařab does not really make

a distinction between this characteristic and the former one, but he chooses to have the

BFG incorrectly use prefixes to only slightly change the meaning of words, so that the

intended meaning is still evident:

“I is trusting you.” (100)

“I is remembering.” (63)

„To ti důvěřím.“ (97)

„Už si připomínám.“ (60)

In the first sentence above, the translator incorrectly and deliberately added the prefix dů-

, creating a word halfway between “důvěřovat” and “věřit”, which have slightly different

meanings. In the second sentence, the word “připomínám” is grammatically correct, but

the prefix should be vz- instead of při-. Jařab could have used the same strategy as Dahl

and made the Czech Giant speak something like this: “Já tobě věřit.” It would have been

a rather banal and uncreative solution, however. Children reading this book will have to

think about what they are reading and exercise their knowledge of word formation.

Furthermore, Jařab inserted the personal pronoun “to” in the first sentence, making it even

more grammatically incorrect.

Neologisms: nouns, adjectives and verbs

scrumdiddlyumptious laskominkový mintick vteřiňátko

uckyslush fujtajbl jiggyraffe žižrafa

gobblefunk chmatlánkovat cattypiddler houslenka

hipswitch natotáta whiffsquiddler blešťucha

hippodumpling hrochodoch quogwinkle xafourek

crocadowndilly krokodák trogglehumper krutihrb

ucky-mucky škaredný phizzwizzard čarokrásník

bellypoppers brtulníky frobscottle šumlenka

grobsquiffler skrčkulík redunculous nezamysl

flushbunking pleskotný whizzpopping vízřáchání

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snozzcumber fňokůrka swinebuggler sviňbulík

disgusterous odpůrný crumpscoddle břinkoklouz

The table contains some of the compound words Dahl invented for the BFG. Many

of them are animals, such as crumpscoddle and whiffquiddler, and some are food and

drink, like frobscottle and snozzcumber. The words used most often from this list are

trogglehumper (a nightmare) and phizzwizard (a good dream). Gobblefunk, the only verb

in the table, means to play with words. Jařab doesn’t always translate these words into

Czech as compound ones, often he will simply add or change a letter (odporný x odpůrný,

žirafa x žižrafa). Nor does he transfer portmanteaus as such (see disgusterous and

redunculous from the list). When dealing with animal names, however, he does usually

manage to make up a compound word equivalent (sviňbulík, břinkoklouz, etc.)

Occasional mispronunciation of words

Examples: “langwitch” instead of “language”, “poisnowse” instead of

“poisonous”.

Jařab traslates these misspellings and mispronunciations by doing the same in

Czech: poisnowse becomes “jedovitý” and langwitch becomes “jazylka”. The second

time langwitch appears in the text, Jařab translates it as “řeč”, but does not decline the

word correctly: “Tak úplně nevyrozumím jeho řeč.”

Frequent use (and misuse) of idiomatic phrases and sayings

Examples: “I is beginning to see where you is driving to” instead of “I see where

you’re headed/going” and “we had better get crackling” instead of “cracking”.

Dahl Jařab Original Expression

disappearing in thick air prostě opařit disappear into thin air

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you is not twiddling my

leg

nevěšíš mi bublíky na

nos

are you pulling my leg

one right is not making

two lefts

nečiň ty druhému, co

třetí čtvrtému

two wrongs do not make

a right

save our solos, deliver us

from weasels, the devil is

dancing on my dibbler

zachraň se kdo musíš,

budiž nám nebe

milostivo, toho jsme

byli čertovi dlužni

save our souls, deliver us

from evil, the devil is

dancing on my shoulder

out of the window úplně vyloučené out of the question

barking up the wrong dog pláčeš na nesprávném

stromě

barking up the wrong

tree

we must go pell-mell for

leather now

musíme teď jít rovnou

po věci

to go hell for leather

bug as a snug in a rug sedět jako bavlnce na

jehlách

snug as a bug in a rug

curiousity is killing the rat kdo je zvědavý, bude

brzo plešatý

curiosity killed the cat

once in a blue baboon jednou za turecký rok once in blue moon

skin and groans kost a růže skin and bones

shoot away posluhuj si fire away

As you can see, Dahl’s technique is usually to substitute a word in the expression

either with a word that rhymes with it, or change the position of the words in the phrase.

Jařab has managed to copy this technique in a couple of cases, once even retaining the

semantic connotation (starý x plešatý). Strangely enough, there are two instances where

the substitute word is semantically bound to the original English phrase (hrobě x stromě

and turecký x moon). Some of the translations are simply gramatically incorrect (posluhuj

si x posluž si, jít rovnou po věci x jít rovnou na věc) or the collocation is wrong (úplně

vyloučené x naprosto vyloučené).

Spoonerisms

The spoonerisms that the BFG uses are both intra and extralexical, meaning that

not only the first letters of different words, but also consonants and vowels within the

same word are swapped. Here are some examples of spoonerisms in The BFG:

Dahl Jařab Original Word

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porteedo portédo torpedo

prossefors prosefory professors

Dahl’s Chickens Dahl’s Chicken Charles Dickens

gun and flames Palba propukne Fun and games

curdbloodling Ztuhne žíla v krvi bloodcurdling

crook and nanny Od dola shorů Nook and cranny

catasterous disastrophe Katastrální strofa Disastrous catastrophe

rommytot prupindy tommyrot

The first two examples were simply transferred into the target language without

having to be translated. And Jařab doesn’t make any attempt to translate “Dahl’s

Chickens” into Czech either, so the readers will miss the semantic dimension of the

spoonerism and might not even make the connection with the writer Dickens. “Průpindy”

is most likely a portmanteau of “průpovídky” and “pindy”. “Curdbloodling” has been

translated as an entire phrase in which the words “krev” and “žíla” have swapped places.

“Palba propukne” is probably a variation on “válka vypukne”. The only real spoonerism

in the Czech translation is “od dola shorů”, but “katastrální strofa” is also an interesting

solution; it almost seems like the division of a portmanteau, had katastrofa been one.

Unconventional similes and a strong inclination towards alliteration

This characteristic is valid for all the giants. Some of the similes used include

“dotty as a dogswoggler” (trhlý jako taprapír), “deader than duck soup” (mrtvější než

kachní polívka), “fast as a fizzlecrump”, (rychle jako šipkoun), “helpless as

horsefeathers” (bezmocní jako berančí peří), “rotten old rotrasper” (ohrtavnice ohavná)

and “jumpsy as a joghopper” (juklavý jako plašenka). The translator is not afraid to invent

neologisms if the situation calls for it (for example, ohrtavnice), and since most of these

phrases are nonsensical, he can let his imagination roam free. These examples are great

opportunities to transfer the stylistic figure of alliteration, because the words are not

semantically bound to each other. However, Jařab only alliterates in half of the cases.

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As for alliteration that is not part of a simile, it mostly occurs in insults:

serious and snitching vážná a svižná

filthy old fizzwiggler hnatemnice hnusná

venomsome vindscreen viper jedovitá hadice karburátorová

flushbunking flurry hromobleskový spěch

mince my maggots u všech všudybuchů,

swipe my swoggles u sto hromocvoků

ruddy little runt skrčku smrštěný

troggy little twit mrňavulo molousavá

shrivelly little shrimp tintěro třtinová

mucky little midget kvičalo kviklavá

squaggy little squib šintouchu šimravý

squinky little squiddler šinťavý šimrouch,

pibbling little pitsqueak pinoživý pískva

Once again, seeing as there is no semantic or idiomatic link between most of the

individual elements of the alliteration, Jařab has no problem alliterating almost every

phrase in Czech. In the first phrase, although he was not able to alliterate, he at least

rhymed. “Venomsome vindscreen viper” is a pun used in a situation where a giant

confuses a snake (viper) with the object that is used to clean windscreens (wiper). This is

why the translator chose to retain the automobilistic element (hadice karburátorová) in

the translation.

As a translator, Jařáb is forced to deal with a lot of puns throughout the book.

Some of them were tackled better than others, and below are some examples that fall into

both of these categories.

All throughout the story the giants use the malapropism human bean (instead of

being), which Jařab blended into “čoklidi”, because he needed to be able to utilize the

term appropriately in the following passage:

82

“Do you like vegetables?” Sophie

asked, hoping to steer the conversation

towards a slightly less dangerous king

of food.”

“The human bean is not a vegetable.”

“Oh, but the bean is a vegetable,”

Sophie said. (28)

„Máš rád sladkosti?“ zeptala se Sofie v

naději, že odvede konverzaci směrem k

nějakého méně nebezbečnému druhu

jídla.

„Čoklověk nepatří mezi sladkosti.“

„Ale čokoláda ano,“ řekla Sofie. (25)

The end result doesn’t quite have the same effect, and “čoklověk” sounds more

like a portmanteau of “čokl” and “člověk” than of “čokoláda” and “člověk”.

In one of the most famous scenes in the book, the BFG explains to Sophie that

humans from each country taste differently. Dahl plays with the literal meaning of country

names, and Jařab was therefore forced to adapt the nationalities in order to not lose the

pun. The BFG tells his little friend that Turks taste like turkey (turecký med), Greeks from

Greece taste greasy (Řekové mají pachuť říčního bahna), the Welsh from Wales have a

fishy taste (Skot chutná po hovězím – po skotu), people from Jersey have a wooly taste

(Srbové mají kovovou příchuť jako srp), etc. At one point things start to get a little

confusing:

“Danes from Denmark is tasting

ever so much of dogs,” the Giant went

on. “Of course,” Sophie said. “They

taste of great danes.”

“Wrong!” cried the Giant,

slapping his thigh. “Danes from

Denmark is tasting doggy because they

is tasting of labradors!”

“Then what do the people of

Labrador taste of?” Sophie asked.

“Danes,” the Giant cried, triumphantly.

“Great danes!” (28-29)

„Čoklidi z ostrova Capri, ti

chutnají co nejvíc po rybách,“

pokračoval Obr. „Samozřejmě,“

přikývla Sofie. „Chutnají po kaprech.“

„Špatně!“ zvolal Obr a plácl se

do stehen. „Čoklidi z ostrova Capri ti

chutnají po rybách, poněvadž chutnají

po sardinkách!“

„A jak tedy chutnají lidé ze

Sardínie?“ zeptala se Sofie. „Po

kaprech,“ odpověděl Obr vítězoslavně.

„Přece po kaprech, ne?“(26)

This adnominatio continues further on in the book, where the BFG talks about

people from Wellington tasting of boots (Jařab converts this to Línec in Rakousko, and

explains that the people there taste like “rákosky”. Perhaps a simpler option would have

been to say that people from Línec taste like linecké). Yankee Doodles become Holí

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Anďané, and Hottentots (a derogatory term for a tribe in Southwest Africa) are translated

as Ohniváci. Swedes are popular among giants for their Sweden sour taste (read ‘sweet

and sour’), but in Czech they become Španělé, “pro tu chuť španělských špačků.” In the

English text, Chileans are chilly, but Jařab makes them people from “Zimabwe”,

suggesting that the misspelling gives them a cold quality, while completely ignoring the

geographical position of the country. The translator makes use of misspelling again later

on:

“I is off to Baghdad and I is

going to Baghdad and mum and every

one of their ten children as well!” (174)

„Utíkám do Paktátu, schlamstnu

mámu, pak tátu a deset dětí k tomu!“

(163)

When the BFG decides to give one of the other giants a nightmare, the giant

dreams about a certain Jack with a beanstalk. This is an allusion to the English fairy tale

“Jack and the Beanstalk”, in which a young boy kills a giant. The fairy tale is not very

well-known in the Czech Republic, so Jařab domesticated this passage by replacing Jack

with David, from the biblical story of David and Goliath, where David’s weapon is a sling

instead of a beanstalk.

Occasionally, the BFG gets carried away with his words, as in the following

example:

“Oh, Queen! Oh Monacher! Oh,

Golden Sovereign! Oh, Ruler! Oh,

Ruler of Straight Lines!” (159)

„Ó, královno! Ó, monarchyně! Ó, zlatá

panovnice! Ó, vládkyně! Ó, vládkyně

všeho vlání!“ (147)

Earlier in the book, the BFG makes another reference to the Queen of England:

“They is at least two times my wideness

and double my royal highness!”(36)

„Jsou tuplem mojí širokosti a

dvojnásobkem mé královské

výsosti!“(32)

Jařab was unable to find the corresponding homonyms in Czech, but he managed

to approximate the monarchical puns by first using a pair of words that sound as though

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they have the same root, even though they don’t (vlání x vládkyně) and then by using two

words that do have the same root, but a completely different meaning (výsost x výška).

When Sophie looks at some of the labels on the jars containing dreams in the

BFG’s cave, she reads about a dream in which a boy makes himself a pair of suction boots

and is walking along the ceiling when his sister comes into the room and asks him what

on earth he is doing. This is the boy’s answer:

“I told you you was driving me up the

wall and now you has done it.” (105)

„Povídal sem ti přece že máš v hlavě

všecko zhůru nohama a teď to jasně vidíš

že sem měl pravdu.“ (95)

There is no corresponding phrase in Czech, so the translator opted for “máš v

hlavě všecko vzhůru nohama”, which doesn’t work near as well and sounds a little

clumsy.

One of the giants tells the BFG that he is off to see Mrs. Sippi and Miss Souri.

This pun is especially effective when read out loud. Jařab translates it as “starou čukotkou

a mladou kamčatkou”, two Russian peninsulas. It was very well, because both of names

are feminine and the terms old and young are often used in Czech when talking about

women or men.

7.5 The Witches

Hana Parkánová-Whitton was born in 1950 in Prague. She studied Czech and English at

Charles University, and then worked for twenty-five years in publishing, most recently

as editor of Knižní klub. In addition to publishing activities she devoted herself to

translation (over 50 books) and her own literary creation. She is the author of Jak si

vypěstovat na anglické zahrádce českého trpaslíka and Jak se po anglicku vytratit v

Anglii. She has also written the acclaimed historic novel Zimní královna. In 2001 she

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married an Englishman and now lives mainly in the UK. She has founded a literary

agency, continues to translate and collaborates with Český rozhlas on programs about

Great Britain (Databáze knih).

Parkánová has chosen not to translate any of the character or place names in the

novel, but she does have fun with the names of the different creatures the witches must

catch in order to make the Delayed Action Mouse-Maker:

gruntle poletucha čunivá

crabcruncher krabák drtivý

babblesnitch frňák ukecaný

grobblesquirt chrlič nenechavý

catspringer skočkodan kočkovitý

Her translations are based on the binominal nomenclature used to classify living

organisms in biology, which makes the animals seem more realistic. In “skočkodan” she

cleverly combines the Czech word for cat with the word “skoč”, meaning to jump or

spring.

The Witches contains yet another example of a character’s distinctive idiolect. The

English version presents us with a Grand High Witch who has what could be defined as

a German or Germanic accent. She pronounces w as v, and has a tendency to roll her r. In

the Czech translation, Nováčková, instead, gives her a lisp and makes her roll only her ř:

“You may rrreemoof you vigs!” (69) „Můžete fi fundat paruky“ (51)

Considering that this is supposed to be the most dreaded and dreadful witch on the

planet, one questions whether giving her this sort of a speech defect in Czech was a wise

decision.

Being a foreigner, the Grand High Witch gets her idiomatic phrases confused

sometimes:

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“Vee will vipe them all avay! Vee will

scrub them off the face of the earth! Vee

vill flush them down the drain!” (W 77)

„Fmeteme je z povrchu zemfkého.

Odfraníme je z tváře země! Utopíme je

na lžíci vody!“ (Č 55)

The correct phrases are, of course, “to wipe something off the face of the earth”

and “to flush something down the toilet”.

There are several mistranslations in the book worth mentioning. The most

awkward one involves a cook complaining that a mouse has gotten into his underwear:

“It‘s running around in my flaming

knickers!” (171)

„Pobíhá mi dokola v červených

trenýrkách!“ (116)

The translation of the entire phrase is somewhat clumsy, but what is completely

mistranslated is the word “flaming”, which, in this case, is used as an interjection. It is

certainly not meant to be describing the colour of the man’s boxers.

Here is a list of a few more mistranslations in The Witches:

“I expect there‘s rats scuttling all over

the kitchen floor and stealing the food off

the shelfves...” (53)

„Jsem přesvědčená, že vám krysy

prohryzaly podlahu v kuchyni skrz naskrz,

chodí tam na potraviny...“ (41)

…the summer holiday guests in this

rather grand hotel were babbling away

and tucking into their suppers. (177)

…proudil hovor hostů, kteří v tomto

poněkud rozlehlém hotelu trávili letní

dovolenou a teď se šťourali v jídle. (119)

„It’s been terrific,“ I said. „Absolutely

terrific.“ (190)

„Bylo to příšerné,“ řekl jsem. „Naprosto

příšerné.“ (129)

Most of the examples above have one common denominator: the translator

mistranslated the underlined words because she incorrectly interpreted Dahl’s own

idiolect and distinctive narrative voice. “Flaming” is a euphemism for a very vulgar swear

word in British English, “grand” can be large, but it in this case it means impressive, and

“terrific” is a synonym of fantastic in British English, not terrible. As for scuttling, it is

the act of moving hastily with small, short steps, a synonym of scamper and scurry. The

translator erroneously translated the definition of the transitive verb scuttle, which means

“to cut a hole through the bottom, deck, or side of (a ship), or specifically to sink or

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attempt to sink by making holes through the bottom“. This definition, however, makes

little sense in the context of the story. Frankly, mice are not very often seen eating through

a floor, and their intention was hardly to attempt to sink the kitchen. Last but not least,

“tucking in” means starting to eat something eagerly, which is practically the opposite of

the word the translator used. It is possible that she confused it with the phrasal verb “poke

at”.

The table on the following page contains some examples of alliteration:

bald as a boiled egg hlavu má plešatou jako koleno

frizzled like a fritter spálit na škvarek

frighful and frightening nejhrůznější a nejděsivější

shrunken and shrivelled seschlá a samá vráska

squashed, squirted, squittered and

frittered

rozdrceno, rozcupováno, rozmetáno,

rozřřřezáno

foul and filthy ušmudlané a smradlavé

ghoulish grins ďábelsky se křenily

wipe them all out like weasels skoncuju s nimi jako s lasičkami

swipe, swizzle rozmetáme, roztrháme

stinks like a sewer smrdí to jako stoka

brainless bogwomper nemyslící náno

blue as a bilberry modré jako borůvky

stiff and silent ztuhla a ztichla

silly slob pitomo

fit and frisky v kondici, abych byl mrštný

swift and silent mrštně a tiše

searing scorching feeling sžíhající a sžírající pocit

suck and sniff nasavat a cenichat

squish and squallop and squiggle rozdrtíme, smeteme z povrchu zemskeho a

zašantročíme

proof of the pudding zkouška praxí

swish them and swollop them vysmrkáme je a vypudíme

squish and squiggle them zašantroč je, šup s nimi pryč

Dahl’s favourite consonant in this book seems to be S, for he uses it abundantly

in his alliterations. The real beauty of Dahl’s lexicon lies in the fact that even though he

uses a myriad of words that the average 8-11 year-old cannot possibly know, the sound

of the words often hints at its meaning. Thanks to this technique in conjunction with

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context, the child reader is able, in most cases, to deduce or infer the meaning of the

language, and it becomes obvious that swipe and swizzle, for example, are a violent

means of destroying someone.

In the phrase “frightful and frightening”, the words not only alliterate, but they

also contain the same root (fright). It would have been effective if the translator had

attempted to find a similar example in Czech (a couple of possibilities that come to mind

are “nejhroznější a nejhrozivější” and “nejstrašnější a nejstrašlivější”)

Neologisms in The Witches include the portmanteaus giganticus, frumptious and

fantabulous, which were translated as gigantikózní, srandózní and baba-báječná,

respectively. The first is a simple transfer, the second involves the collapsing of the words

“srandovní” and “famózní” into one, and the third most likely alludes to the Baba Yaga

of Slavic folklore. Only the second word copies Dahl’s technique. Other neologisms

include bogwomper (an unspecified insult) and boshwolloping (an adjective that could

mean almost anything, but is in any case highly expressive). The first has been translated

as “náno” as part of the alliteration in the table above, and boshwolloping was defined as

“děsuplně praštěný”, which, quite frankly, doesn’t have the same ring to it.

Parkánová manages to alliterate several times by using the prefix roz- in Czech,

mostly in the direct speech of the Grand High Witch. Other instances of alliteration in

Czech seem to be more frequent than in the case of Kořán and Herynková.

Another one of Dahl’s techniques includes stacking adjectives and verbs one after

the other. The translator, however, prefers to divide this “list” into several sentences, thus

changing the rhythm:

“…plotting and scheming and

churning and burning and whizzing

and phizzing” (7)

„…kutí piklů a bude vřít

vymýšlením pletich. Bude kypět a hořet

vražednými, krvelačnými myšlenkami,

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bude jimi rovněž hýřit a v hlavě ji budou

vřít.“ (7)

There are not many puns present in this Dahl novel, but here are at least two

examples, one of which was completely lost in the process of translation:

“Children are smelling of dogs’

drrroppings!” screeched the Grand

High Witch. “Pooooooo!” cried the

audience. “Poooooo! Poooooo!

Poooooo!” (77)

„Děti smrdí jako pfí hovínka!“ hřímala

Hlavní nejyšší čarodějnice. „Fůůůj!“

řvalo hlediště. „Fůůůj! Fůůůj! Fůůůj!“

(55)

In this passage, Dahl plays with the word boo, used by a crowd to express

disapproval and discontent, and the word poo, a synonym for dogs’ droppings. The

translator most likely did not notice this pun, because in Czech it would have satisfactory

to substitute the word fůj with hnůj, and the end result would have been similar.

In this next example, Grandma is explaining to her son why the Grand High Witch

kills at least one witch at every Annual Meeting:

“She does it in order to keep the rest of

them on their toes.”

“But they don’t have any toes,

Grandmamma.” (130)

“Děla to, aby ty ostatní udržela hezky v

pozoru se scvaknutými patami a

spičkami.”

“Babi, ony ale žádné špičky na nohou

nemají.” (90)

The solution opted for by the translator does not work as well as the original, but

it could be considered a satisfactory attempt. Another option could have been to go along

the lines of “Ostatní kolem ní raději chodí po špičkách,” meaning that they want to be

noticed as little as possible in order not to get into trouble.

When Grandmother goes to dinner alone and the waiter asks her where her

grandson is, she replies that “he’s not feeling very well.” The ordinary phrase was

converted into a pun by Parkánová when she translated it as “necítí se nějak ve své kůži”.

This phrase has a double meaning, because not only is Grandmother pretending that her

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darling is ill, she is also alluding to the fact that he has been turned into a mouse and is

no longer a little boy.

7.6 The Twits

The Twits were translated by Iva Nováčková. She ingeniously chose the name “Prevítovi”

for the married couple who are the main characters of this book, despite the fact that the

word twit has a slightly different meaning in English. Her choice was motivated by the

actions of the characters, who are mischievous and plotting and disliked by everyone

around. Other translations of names include “slizotřas obrovský” (Giant Skillywiggler),

“Hulahop” (Muggle-Wump) and “Ptáček Baculáček” (Roly-Poly Bird), who retains his

rhyming assonance. Hugtight sticky glue was translated as “Pevnědrželovo lepidlo” and

Squiggly Spaghetti became “špagety kroutivky”, losing the alliteration.

Nováčková is the only translator who decided to not switch from the imperial to

the metric system for measurements. Her motivation may have been that the subject is

only dealt with once in the book and isn’t significant to the main storyline.

The following table contains Nováčková’s translations of alliteration:

Whiskery old warthog starý štětinatý vepři

Fatty folds of his flabby neck v tučných záhybech jeho ochablého

krku

Frumptious freaks příšerné obludy

Dropped his dirty droppings upustil svůj nechutný ptačinec

Filthy freaks odporná monstra

Grand and glorious living room velkolepý a úžasný obývák

Pulling and puffing tahali a funěli

Ghastly garden příšerné zahradě

Bundle of balloons balík balonků

Terrible twits strašné prevíty

Watch you like a wombat sleduju tě jako ostříž

Giving her another grizzly grin se na ni mrzutě zašklebil

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Ghoulish grin ďábelským úsměvem

you grizzly old grunion, you rotten old

turnip, you filthy old frumpet

ty starý mrzutý medvěde, ty starý

prohnilý tuříne, ty starý špinavý obejdo

He gaped, he gasped, he gurgled vyvalil oči, zalapal po dechu, zachrčel

I’ll swash you to a swizzle, I’ll gnash

you to a gnozzle, I’ll gnosh you to a

gnazzle

sešlehám tě do šlehance, sešvihám tě do

švihance, seřežu tě do řezance

Filthy feathery frumps hnusní opeření zmetci

wriggled and squirmed, and squiggled

and wormed, and he twisted and turned,

and he choggled and churned

se vrtěl a kroutil a vlnil a svíjel a

překrucoval a otáčel a kolébal a motal

Because the Twits is a relatively short novel, the table above contains all the

instances of what is assumed to be deliberate alliteration. Dahl’s favourite letters here are

evidently F and G, and he recycles words like “freaks” and “grizzly” throughout the story.

Situations where the translator has transferred the alliteration are highlighted in red, but

mostly it seems that Nováčková paid little attention to this stylistic figure and didn’t

consider it important. She does, however, choose to alliterate one Czech sentence that is

not alliterated in English, and does so by repeatedly using the prefix “při-”:

“They were pinned down, cemented,

glued, fixed to the floorboards.” (88)

„Byli přichyceni, připevněni, přilepeni k

podlaze.“ (77)

Czech is a language where prefixes are widely utilized to create new meaning and

to express completion and change of state. The real question, however, is whether the

translator chose this option because it was the first thing that came to mind, or whether

she went out of her way to seek an alliteration for the sake of euphony and author’s style.

This question, of course, is valid for all the translators mentioned here.

Several of the alliterations contain the word “old”, which Nováčková literally

translates as “starý”, perhaps not realizing that Dahl uses this word more as an interjection

than an adjective. It is to be regarded more as a stylistic tool than an actual semantic unit.

Jařab, in fact, understood this and almost never translated instances of “old” and “little”

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in alliterations in The BFG (see page 80). Dahl merely inserts this word between two

adjectives to render the phrase more rhythmically appealing:

“You grizzly old grunion, you rotten old

turnip, you filthy old frumpet!” (41)

„Ty starý mrzutý medvěde, ty starý

prohnilý tuříne, ty starý špinavý

obejdo!“ (30)

Being a two-syllable word in Czech, “starý” doesn’t have the same cadence as

does “old” in English. Its position as the first word in the sequence further diminishes the

melodiousness of the phrase. Lastly, “old” is used much less frequently as an insult in our

language. Its use and repetition therefore doesn’t have an equivalent effect, and the Czech

translation would have seemed much more fluid had Nováčková completely discarded

the word.

The Twits is a very short book and contains only one example of a play on words:

“Poor muggles has gone off his wump

at last.” (75)

„Nebohý hulahop přece jen přišel o

rozum.“ (65)

The original phrase “he has gone off his rocker” has been altered here and the

word “rocker” has been substituted by the second part of the monkey’s name. In order to

be able to translate it into Czech, Nováčková would have had to select Muggle-Wump’s

name more carefully, and with this pun in mind, but admittedly it is not easy to capture

the essense of this sentence in the target language.

Dahl repeatedly uses the word “trick” in this book, and Nováčková opts for several

different translations of the word. We can encounter the word as “fígl”, “vylomenina”

and “lest”, and this increases the overall type/token ratio of the translation. The other

translators also had the tendency to do this. For example, the word “marvellous” was

translated in Danny as podivuhodný, senzační, skvělý, výborný and fantastický.

Translations of the same word in the other books most often included báječný, úžasný,

bezva and parádní. The same counts for “beast/beastly”, which were translated as

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anything from hnusný, zlý, nelidský, odporný, protivný, šeredný and ohavný to

nezvedenec, štěně, ničema, syčák, bestie, lenoch and neřád.

8. Summary and Conclusion

The analysis has revealed several tendencies regarding the translators‘ approaches to the

translation on nonsense. One of the most prominent patterns that emerged in the preceding

chapter is a certain lack of consistency, suggesting that the translators do not not approach

the translation of nonsense with a clear strategy. The choice to translate operations (for

example, a portmanteau as such, or a reversal as a reversal, etc.) seems to be random.

None of the translators demonstrate a focus on presenting nonsense operations

equivalently every time, or even non-equivalently every time, for that matter. When, for

example, they come across a portmanteau in the source text, they will occasionally merely

transfer the word, if it sounds acceptable in the target language. Sometimes they manage

to create a portmanteau in Czech, and sometimes they will translate it as a conventional,

existing word, or a completely different strategy will be employed. Even Jařab’s

translation of the BFG’s idiolect reveals this tendency; although the translation strategy

is clearer in this case (it is evident which operation in the source text corresponds to which

operation in the target text), there are many instances where the source text contains this

operation and the target text doesn’t (this tendency, however, is not bidirectional,

meaning that Jařab does not utilize the BFG’s idiolect if the author has not already done

so in the ST). The most disappointing is the translation of spoonerisms, where a different

operation is employed in the majority of cases. This may suggest that spoonerisms are

very difficult for translators to adequately render in the target language. One of the ways

of translating nonsensical style more faithfully might therefore be to pay more attention

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to the operations at work within the text and focus on traslating them equivalently and

consistently (where the target language permits one to do so).

The assumption is that this lack of consistency is due to a focus on making the

target text as natural and fluid as possible, choosing not to focus too much on the

eccentricities of nonsense in order not to risk making the translation sound artificial.

The translation of idiolects (other than that of the BFG) through letter substitution

can only be labelled as unfortunate. It is not merely a question of whether the target

language choice is corresponding in terms of the nonsense operation (which it isn’t). The

main problem is that the solution evokes a completely different image for the reader, and

the translation thus becomes a lot less accurate.

As for the author’s narrative voice, its distinctiveness and originality has been

toned down substantially in the translations and a version conforming more to ordinary

style and language has been presented.

There is a distinctive tendency to pay little attention to the translation of

alliteration, which is understandable, because alliteration is a stylistic figure that is not

utilised abundantly in the Czech language. It does not have the same tradition as in the

English language, and unless very distinctive, the reader is unlikely to notice it.

Alliteration is not perceived as a specific stylistic figure in Czech, but rather a mere

instrument of euphony, which is probably the reason why most translators themselves

have treated it so superficially. If dealt with at all, it was sometimes translated as rhyming,

which, on the other hand, is a very prominent stylistic figure in the target language prose,

more common than in English. Had the translators wanted to transfer Dahl’s style into

Czech more accurately, they could have chosen rhyming as a substitute to alliteration and

used it more often. Rare instances where alliteration was translated as such should be

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regarded as coincidence: the target language provided translators with corresponding

words that begin with the same letter. Unmotivated alliteration occurred mostly due to

the use of prefixes in the target language.

Compensation does occur, however, the number of untranslated nonsense devices

is distinctly higher than the number compensations in all of the analysed texts.

It would be an unjustified simplification to attempt to summarize the individual

approaches of the translators to nonsense in Roald Dahl’s children’s books on the basis

of the analysis in the previous chapter. Despite the temptation to make statements that

suggest that Kořán has a higher tendency for omission and Parkánová seems to have made

the most mistranslations, while at the same time alliterating more than the others,

Herynková has failed to accurately comprehend the author’s narrative voice and Jařab is

the most creative of all the translators, both the methodology and choice of texts do not

permit these claims to be made. As already mentioned in the methodological section of

this thesis, every analysed book has its specific characteristics and differs substantially in

the number and types of occurrences of literary nonsense devices. The BFG contains more

neologisms than all of the other books combined, while Fantastic Mr. Fox contains

almost no instances of any nonsensical device. Had Herynková translated the former

instead of the latter, she would have had to employ a completely different strategy. This

is the beauty and, at the same time, curse of nonsense literature. The BFG is the only book

in which nonsense is a central feature, and not merely a stylistic tool, so it is natural that

Jařab’s approach to the translation needed to reflect this fact.

Another general tendency is one to disregard the author’s deliberate use of

repetition, not only on the level of sentences but also on a textual level. Equivalent words

and phrases within the same text are often translated differently, suggesting that the

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translators probably failed to recognize repetition as one of Dahl‘s deliberate stylistic

figures. Consequently, the entire rhythm and cadence of the stories changes. Nor do the

translators notice that Dahl has a tendency to prefer and repeat certain consonants and

themes in his books. Evidently, much analysis goes on at the lexical level during the

translation process, and not so much on a textual and phonological levels.

When it comes to the translation of idiomatic expressions and puns where

simultaneity cannot be maintained in the target language, the prevailing tendency is to

keep the literal meaning where possible and sacrifice the deeper one. A pleasant

revelation is one that omission is employed very little with play on words; most of the

time translators did their best to come up with at least a partial solution to the translation

problem. Omission occurs mostly in cases where the translator obviously hasn’t

recognized the pun at all.

The analysis of nine Roald Dahl children’s books has provided insight into the

approaches of translators to the translation of nonsense, as well as demonstrating that

because so little attention is paid to the linguistic aspect of Dahl’s work, the focus of the

translators was centered more on content than form, with a tendency to translate literally

where possible, and opt for conventional solutions in the target language.

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9. Bibliography

Primary Sources

Source Texts

Dahl, Roald. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. London: Puffin Books, 1999.

Dahl, Roald. Danny the Champion of the World. London: Puffin Books, 1994.

Dahl, Roald. Fantastic Mr. Fox. London: Puffin Books, 1996.

Dahl, Roald. George’s Marvellous Medicine. London: Puffin Books, 1982.

Dahl, Roald. James and the Giant Peach. London: Puffin Books, 1995.

Dahl, Roald. Matilda. London: Puffin Books, 1989.

Dahl, Roald. The BFG. London: Puffin Books, 1984.

Dahl, Roald. The Twits. London: Puffin Books, 1982.

Dahl, Roald. The Witches. London: Puffin Books, 1985.

Translations

Dahl, Roald. Čarodějnice. Trans: Hana Parkánová. Praha: Jan Kanzelberger, 1993.

Dahl, Roald. Danny, mistr světa. Trans: Jaroslav Kořán. Praha: Albatros, 1990.

Dahl, Roald. Fantastický pan Lišák. Trans: Jitka Herynková. Praha: Knižní klub, 2009.

Dahl, Roald. Jakub a obří broskev. Trans: Jaroslav Kořán, Pavel Šrut. Praha: Albatros,

98

1993.

Dahl, Roald. Jirkova zázračná medicína. Trans: Jitka Herynková. Praha: Knižní klub,

2007.

Dahl, Roald. Karlík a továrna na čokoládu. Trans: Jaroslav Kořán a Pavel Šrut. Praha:

Mateřídouška, 1971.

Dahl, Roald. Karlík a továrna na čokoládu. Trans: Jaroslav Kořán a Pavel Šrut. Praha:

Winston Smith, 1992.

Dahl, Roald. Karlík a továrna na čokoládu. Trans: Jaroslav Kořán a Pavel Šrut. Praha:

Academia, 2002.

Dahl, Roald. Karlík a továrna na čokoládu. Trans: Jaroslav Kořán. Praha: Academia,

2006.

Dahl, Roald. Matylda. Trans: Jitka Herynková. Praha: Knižní klub, 2011.

Dahl, Roald. Moc hodný obr. Trans: Jan Jařab. Praha: Hynek, 1998.

Dahl, Roald. obrDobr. Trans: Jan Jařab. Praha: Academia, 2005.

Dahl, Roald. Prevítovi. Trans: Iva Nováčková. Praha: Academia, 2004.

Secondary Sources

Alston, A. And Butler, C. (eds.). New Casebooks: Roald Dahl. New York: Palgrave

Macmillan, 2012.

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Anderson, Sam. “Big Sometimes Friendly Giant: Roald Dahl – the storyteller as a

benevolent sadist”. New York Magazine. 5 Sep. 2010. Web. 30 July 2014.

Baker, Mona. In Other Words: A Coursebook on Translation. London and New York:

Routledge, 1994.

“Biography” Quentin Blake (2013): n. p. Web. 6 Aug. 2014.

Bobulová, Ivana et al. 2003. Children's and Juvenile Literature: (Written in English).

Nitra: Pedagogická fakulta UKF v Nitre, 2003.

Booth, Wayne C. The Company We Keep: An Ethics of Fiction. Berkeley, CA:

University of California Press, 1988.

Carpenter, H. Secret Gardens: A Study of the Golden Age of Children’s Literature.

London: George Allen & Unwin, 1985.

Carroll, Lewis. Alice 's Adventures in Wonderland. London, New York: Penguin Books,

Penguin Popular Classics, 1994.

Carta, Giorgia. Theory and Practice of Translation: The Case of Children’s Literature.

In Parker, R. H., Garcia, K. G. (eds.). Thinking Translation: Perspectives from

Within and Without. Florida: BrownWalker Press, 2008.

Chambers, A. ‘The Reader in the Book’, in N.Chambers (ed.), The Signal Approach to

Children’s Books, London: Kestrel, 1980.

Cuddon, J. A. A Dictionary of Literary Terms. London: Penguin Books, 1979.

Dahl, Roald. Writing children's books: An author of classics reflects on what it takes to

succeed in this genre: giving young, readers what they want. Writer (Kalmbach

Publishing Co.). Sep2009, Vol. 122 Issue 9, p16-55. 2p.

Dolitsky, Marlene. Under The Tumtum Tree: From Nonsense To Sense, A Study In

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Non-Automatic Comprehension. Amsterdam/Philadephia: John Benjamins

Publishing Company, 1984.

Frimmelová, Kateřina. Translating Children’s Literature: diplomová práce. Brno:

Masarykova univerzita, Fakulta pedagogická, Katedra anglického jazyka a

literatury, 2010. Vedoucí diplomové práce PhDr. Pavel Doležel, CSs.

“Hana Parkánová-Whitton”. Databáze knih (2014): n. p. Web. 1 Sep. 2014.

“Herynková Jitka.” Obec překladatelů (2006): n. p. Web. 8 Aug. 2014.

Hollindale, Peter. “And Children Swarmed to Him Like Settlers. He Became a Land.”

The Outrageous Success of Roald Dahl’, in Julia Briggs, Dennis Butts and M. O.

Grenby (eds), Popular Children’s Literature in Britain. Aldershot: Ashgate,

2008.

Howard, Kristine. “My Dahl Biography”. Roald Dahl Fans 2014 Web. 17 July.

2014.

Howard, Kristine. “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Politically Correct Oompa–

Loompa Evolution.” Roald Dahl Fans. 2014. Web. 12 Oct. 2014.

Hunt, Peter. Roald Dahl and the Commodification of Fantasy. In Alston, A. and

Butler, C. (eds.). New Casebooks: Roald Dahl. New York: Palgrave Macmillan,

2012.

Hunt, Peter. The Same but Different: Conservatism and Revolution in Children’s

Fiction. In Maybin, J. and Watson, Nicola J. (eds.). Children’s Literature:

Approaches and Territories. Milton Keynes: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009.

“Jařab Jan.” Meander (2014). Web. August 17 2014.

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Klimecká, Zuzana. The Individual Style of a Literary Translator Jaroslav Kořán and

His Translations of A Confederacy of Dunces, Charlie and the Chocolate

Factory and The Sirens of Titan: diplomová práce. Brno: Masarykova

univerzita, Filozofická fakulta, 2009. Vedoucí diplomové práce Mgr. Simona

Javůrková.

Knowles, M., Malmkjær, K.. Language and Control in Children’s Literature. London;

New York: Routledge, 1996.

Kratochvilová, Eva. Literary Nonsense and its Translation: diplomová práce. Brno:

Masarykova univerzita, Filozofická fakulta, 2001. Vedoucí diplomové práce Ing.

Mgr. Jiří Rambousek.

Lecercle, Jean-Jacques. Philosophy of Nonsense: The Intuitions of Victorian Nonsense

Literature. London and New York: Routledge, 1994.

Lerer, Seth. Children’s Literature: A Reader’s History from Aesop to Harry Potter.

Chicago and London: The Univ. of Chicago Press, 2008.

Levý, Jiří. Umění překladu. Praha: Miroslav Pošta – Apostrof, 2012.

Newmark, Peter. A Textbook of Translation. London: Prentice Hall, 1988.

Onič, Tomaž. Alliteration as a Means of Characterization of Dramatic Personae: A

Translation Issue. Elope III/1-2 (2006): 247-255. Web. 22 Oct. 2014.

"Roald Dahl." Bio. A&E Television Networks, 2014. Web. 25 Nov. 2014.

Robu, Flaminia. “Translating Nonsense Verse – A Case of Linguistic Substitution of the

Natural Model of Language; Case Study: the Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll”.

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Rudd, David. The Development of Children’s Literature. In Rudd, David (ed.).

The Routlegde Companion to Children’s Literature. Abingdon, Oxon:

Routledge, 2010.

Rudd, David. ‘Don’t gobbelfunk around with words’: Roald Dahl and Language,

In Alston, A. and Butler, C. (eds.). New Casebooks: Roald Dahl. New York:

Palgrave Macmillan, 2012.

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Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins Publishing Company, 1988.

Stewart, Susan. Nonsense: Aspects of Intertextuality in Folklore and Literature.

Baltimore and London: The John Hopkins Univ. Press, 1979.

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10. Summary

The topic of this thesis is the translation of nonsense in children’s literature, namely

children’s books by British short story and iconic children’s writer, Roald Dahl. The

thesis provides information on the author’s life and works, as well as mentioning the

importance of illustration in Dahl’s books and his famous collaboration with acclaimed

illustrator Quentin Blake. The significance of considering illustrations when translating

and publishing children’s books is also briefly discussed.

Dahl’s writing style is described from a linguistic perspective, revealing that many

of the literary devices he employs with regularity are common to all nonsense writers and

include, for example, stylistic figures like puns and similes, neologisms (especially

portmanteaus and spoonerisms) and alliteration. These features are the focus of the

practical part of the thesis.

Information regarding the translation of Dahl’s children’s books in the Czech

Republic is presented in chronological order. All nine of the books translated into Czech

by five different translators and released by various publishing houses are subject to

analysis. First, the characters and plot of each analysed book are described. This is

followed by a section dealing with some theoretical information regarding the definition

of nonsense as a literary device, how translators approach its translation, and the role of

nonsense in children’s literature.

Lastly, the practical part of this Master’s thesis provides examples of how

translators have dealt with various aspects of the author’s writing style and how they have

chosen to translate the features of literary nonsense present in Dahl’s books. The research

is then summarized and the prominent trends or tendencies are described.

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11. Resumé

Hlavním tématem této práce je překlad nonsensu v dětské literatuře, a to konkrétně v

knihách britského povídkáře a kultovního spisovatele pro děti, Roalda Dahla. Práce

poskytuje základní informace o autorově životě a díle, a v rámci významu ilustrací v jeho

knihách zmiňuje také slavnou spolupráci s uznávaným ilustrátorem Quentinem Blakem.

Také je stručně nastíněna důležitost dostatečného vnímání ilustrací při překladu a

vydávání knih pro děti.

Druhá část popisuje Dahlův literární styl z lingvistického hlediska a poukazuje na

to, že mnohé z literárních prostředků, které autor pravidelně používá, jsou běžnými jevy

nonsensové literatury. Tyto prostředky zahrnují například stylistické figury jako hru se

slovy a přirovnání, neologismy (zejména portmanteau a spoonerismy) a aliterace. Na ně

se podrobně zaměřuje praktická část diplomové práce.

Informace o překladu Dahlových dětských knih v České republice jsou uvedeny

v chronologickém pořadí. Předmětem analýzy je všech devět knih přeložených pěti

různými překladateli a vydaných několika různými nakladatelstvími. Nejprve jsou

popsány postavy a děj jednotlivých příběhů. Poté následuje teoretická část práce,

zabývající se definicí nonsensu jako literárního prostředku, informacemi o tom jak

překladatelé přistupují k jeho překladu a rolí nonsensu v dětské literatuře.

Praktická části diplomové práce uvádí příklady toho, jak se jednotliví překladatelé

vypořádali s různými aspekty autorova stylu a jak se rozhodli překládat jevy literárního

nonsensu přítomné v knihách Roalda Dahla. Práce poté shrnuje výsledky analýzy a

popisuje významné trendy nebo tendence v této oblasti.