In addition, I try to find readers whose levels of understanding of Korean culture vary; some are experts, some are somewhat familiar, and some know virtually nothing. I need experts to get their expertise. While translating a historical novel, I spent many hours looking up references, but still I had many unsolved problems. When I asked a history professor to read it, I was amazed at how he could solve so many problems in terminology in a very short period. I need those who are familiar with Korean culture to get their informed feedback. I need those who are not familiar with Korean culture to get their response and improve the translation. Once I translated that a woman brought in a dinner table, and one reader put a question mark, wondering how it was possible. I realized that for those who are not familiar with the low, small Korean dinner table being brought into the living room for dinner, it sounds ridiculous. I changed the table into the dinner tray.
These strategies—readers of different age groups, different regions, different levels of understanding of Korean culture—are to ensure I obtain as varied opinions as possible. I usually ask this: “Please tell me anything that you think will improve the translation—the flow, the elegance, the naturalness.” I find that some readers are more tolerant than others, but my ideal reader is a person who has a nit-picking tendency.
Readers’ comments and suggestions can be largely divided into three areas: grammar, sentence and paragraph structure, and cultural aspects. The grammar is the easiest to handle; most readers point out mistakes in prepositions and articles, for instance. The other two areas are more complicated. Often the original text is in the head of the translator, so stilted sentences sound all right until someone points them out. One of the most difficult areas for a non-native translator is dialogue. Rendering the original narrative in a natural flow is difficult as it is, but translating dialogue to the equivalent counterpart requires help from native speakers.
Aside from dialogue, I would like to discuss some problems I encounter frequently as I work with two languages. First, there are certain redundancies inherent in each language. The Korean language does not always specify the subject, for the context and other devices make it clear what the subject is. In Korean prose, if the subject and possessives are used as in English, it sounds awkward and redundant. Another example is this: Korean writers don’t have to state who the speaker is even if there are several people talking together. The speaker is apparent through the level of respect shown in the form of speech, feminine or masculine speech, or regional dialects. When translating these sentences, the translator often needs to supply the information about who the speaker is.
On the other hand, Korean prose tends to repeat the same words, phrases, and sentences, perhaps because it still contains a strong tradition of oral literature. When English prose is translated into Korean, it often sounds terse, matter of fact, and far from elegant. By contrast, when Korean prose is translated into English, many readers find it redundant to the point of irritation. They complain that Korean authors treat their readers as simpletons, who need constant repetition to understand a point. As a translator, this is one of the most difficult decisions I am forced to make. How far can I go in editing? If the same words are used over and over again—for example, if Teacher Kim is mentioned, he is described as Teacher Kim throughout in the Korean text, rarely replaced with a pronoun or other devices—it is easy to conform to the standard English usage. But when a certain word or phrase is used repeatedly, the translator has to stop and ask herself whether the author did it consciously. Sometimes I ask the authors; some say they did it for artistic reasons, but others say I can do whatever sounds better in English. The problem is many native speakers find such repetitions irritating, rather than artistic.