1981 was the year Italo Calvino‘s IF ON A WINTER’S NIGHT A TRAVELLER, a postmodernist take on the very act of reading (and writing), first appeared in English. A nest of stories, or beginnings of stories, the Reader – addressed in the second person – is given initial fragments of a series of different tales which, for various reasons, they – you – are never in a position to finish. Heading off in search of complete editions, the Reader is drawn into a complex, playful and surreal adventure involving, among other things, a trickster translator who may be part of a plot to subvert fiction itself.
This hugely popular novel was translated from the Italian by the great and prolific William Weaver. Weaver liked to work closely with his authors. With Calvino, he reported, he would often wrangle over the right word, and Calvino would try to slip things past him in the proofs; in one translation the word ‘feedback’, which Weaver had firmly rejected, kept mysteriously reappearing. (Weaver ultimately got his way with that one as Calvino died before he could fiddle with the final proofs.)
For almost twenty years, alongside many other projects, Weaver was always translating something by Calvino. This was how he described the experience:
‘Translating Calvino is an aural exercise as well as a verbal one. It is not a process of turning this Italian noun into that English one, but rather of pursuing a cadence, a rhythm – sometimes regular, sometimes wilfully jagged – and trying to catch it, while, like a Wagner villain, it may squirm and change shape in your hands. This tantalizing, if finally rewarding task could not be performed entirely at the typewriter. Frequently, I would get up from my desk, pace my study, testing words aloud, listening to their sound, their pace, alert also to silences.’