The Germans Keep Asking Me About Borges

When I learned that one of my goofy books was coming out in Germany, I was tickled. I like the Germans; they're a strange and funny people. This made itself strikingly clear as I began to hear more and more about how, exactly, the book would be presented.

First off, they were changing the title. Nobody else had done that, and nobody at the German publishing house had asked me about this?just went ahead and did it. But it was okay. I can fully understand how a word like "slackjaw" wouldn't exactly translate very well. I was curious to see what they would come up with.

My curiosity was piqued further after discovering (on Amazon, of all places) that the new title would be Blindfisch.

An easy-enough translation at first glance?it simply means "blind fish." But it had to mean something more than that. It always does. Besides, what the hell is "blind fish" supposed to relay to potential readers, anyway?

So I wrote a note to the German editor, figuring he'd be the one to ask, and asked him. He was a very friendly and intelligent man?and this was the first time we had communicated. I suppose my note may have come across as a bit terse, even if I never intended it that way. His reply, as a result, was a bit hesitant. He even used "ummm..." before coming right out and saying it. I didn't think Germans used "ummm."

"Blindfisch" does indeed have a deeper meaning, he explained. It was an "endearing" term that was used to refer to someone who can't see very well?which is fine, of course?who also happens to be a dimwit.

Oh.

After thinking about it a moment, I decided that I could live with that. It was a pretty damn good translation, actually?not that far from the original at all. I was even starting to like it a little more than the original. Though now I was much more curious about what the rest of the book would be like.

A single copy arrived in the mail shortly thereafter (they are a frugal people), and it looked mighty good. A nice, solid volume, its new, simple cover designed in bright yellows and deep blacks.

I pulled out my magnifying glass and cracked the book open. I certainly didn't have the time or the energy to sit down with it and retranslate the whole thing just for cheap yuks?but there were a few simple things I wanted to check out, just as a litmus test.

First thing I noticed was in the table of contents. "Flubbity-flubbity" had become "Flapp-Flapp." Not sure I understood why that was necessary. And "Getting Hip to the Lights-Out Way"?a line from an old Angry Samoans song?had become (in German, of course) "With a Look Into the Darkness"?which is almost a line from an old Death in June song.

The single line I'm always most curious about when it comes to translations is from yet another old punk song. I always want to see how foreign languages translate the most notorious line from the Mentors' "Golden Showers"?"Bend up and smell my anal vapors."

It was kind of a disappointment here, as they simply left it in English.

("Funny thing about that," Morgan commented after I told her, "is that it's going to force people to go look it up themselves.")

My old band became "Die Schmerzverstärkers," and "keep on a-rockin'!"?words of advice from the great El Duce?became the much less effective, "Immer schön weiter rocken!" What I found most interesting of all was right there at the end, where "I'll keep fucking up" becomes "weil ich immer Misst baue"?or, "I will continue to build shit," which I guess is true enough.

It was crazy! But everything seemed to be there, so I was satisfied.

Then the interviews started. Doing interviews with foreign publications, even via e-mail, is a tricky and laborious process. My ability to speak German had faded to ash over the past decade, so I left it up to them to communicate in English. If the interviewer doesn't have a strong grasp of the language, this means that he or she has to compose some questions, get them translated and send them to me. I then answer them and send them back. Then they must be translated into German again. The interviewer reads the translated response, composes some followup questions based on that translation, and the whole process begins again. An interview that might have taken 45 minutes on the telephone if we both spoke the same language took upward of a week.

That was okay, though. They were smart people, and they asked tough questions. Too tough at times. The very first question?the very first one?asked me to talk a little bit about what I thought of the writings of Borges.

Now, I know precious little about Borges. No, scratch "precious little" and replace it with "nothing whatsoever." But I couldn't let the Germans know that, so I did what I did in my old philosophy classes and turned on my bullshit prolixer, in the hopes that, once translated, my insights into the work of the great writer and poet would seem fresh?even sparkling.

After that, things got some easier. Until the last few questions, which were all about Borges again. Hell, I didn't even know that Borges had gone blind.

That first interview went on for a week. During that, there was another one, for what had been described to me as a "Swiss women's magazine." Myself, I'm convinced that it was a gay porn rag, but I wasn't about to say that to anyone.

This interviewer didn't much bother with the translator?opting instead to apologize for her own lack of fluency, and leaving me with the job of rearranging all these (mostly) English words into something that might just, in the end, be a question. The words came out in a flurry.

"What is more difficult, to handle the daily life as a blind man or to akzept being different? You show, that it is similar to other absurdities live. Do You think, that the blindness give You a spezial view on the absurd sides of live? The advertising of named You a seer. What does that mean?"

I have no fucking clue.

"In our society, espezially in Your country, the average, the rule has a high value. How could You live with standardization? America love the beauty and normality, but You discribe the US-Cities as dschungels and the american way of life as very strange. How do You explain this contradiction - or is it none?"

Yes.

(About this point, I was starting to wonder if we were talking about the same book.)

"What gave You the force and the clairvoyance to revolt against the standardization? Your book discribes also, how difficult it is to handle anguish and to be a man and stay manly."

I...ummm "Manly"?

"How he came to the name "blindfish" - can You give me a answer?"

Well, ummm...first of all, do you have Mr. Magoo in Germany?

In the end I just started telling this interviewer all about Borges. I figured I'd do the same with the guy who was lined up for the next day.

What bothered me most about all this, I guess, is that nobody seemed to think that anything was very funny. I chose to put that down to the translation. I mean, I know the Germans aren't particularly well known for their senses of humor, but still.

I don't mean to make sport of these people. They were all, without fail, very nice and polite and intelligent. They were also certainly putting a helluva lot more effort into this than I was able to. And what the hey?they were Europeans after all?if my answers seemed obtuse, drab and confused, it'll probably work out all the better for me in the end.

Then again, they may just think of me as another stupid-assed American.