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thelinguist.uberflip.com APRIL/MAY 2017 The Linguist 15 FEATURES Translating obscenity into your own language takes some getting used to. However familiar one becomes with another language, a trace of otherness always remains. Sometimes this can add to the beauty of the language, or to its mystique, but when it comes to obscenity there is a distinct softening effect. Rude words in other languages never have quite the same force, so translating them into one's own language brings the obscenity home in more ways than one. English reserve probably plays a part in the process, too. When we started translating 120 Days I soon realised I was instinctively toning the original down, avoiding words that I found jarringly ugly. I may not have overcome that entirely (no 'dicks' or 'cocks' for me, thank you very much!) but I realised pretty quickly that a watered-down version of Sade's novel would be the worst possible outcome. The last thing we wanted to produce was a text that was any less shocking – and therefore potentially appealing – than the original. We had a duty to be just as rude, crude and revolting as Sade. To ensure consistency, we compiled our own Sadean lexicon as we were translating. Once we had debated the various possible translations of a particular word we would try to settle on one and stick to it. Usually. So a vit would always be a 'prick', and a cul would always be an 'arse'. But this wasn't always possible. When it came to translating tétons, for example, one word was not enough. One of our most treasured resources as translators was the University of Chicago's database of old French dictionaries, which includes several from the 17th and 18th centuries. One of the things this showed was that téton was not always quite as familiar or coarse as the English 'tit' (Molière and Voltaire both used it), so we had to be attentive to these different inflections. In cases like these, it matters whether the word is written by the narrator or spoken by one of the characters, whether it is said by a man or a woman, neutrally or insultingly, and so on – a man or woman writing 'breasts' is very different to a man saying 'tits' and very different to a woman saying 'boobs'. The trouble with self love The term that gave us the most trouble by far was the verb se branler – a slang term meaning 'to masturbate' that is still commonly used by French speakers today. There may be no shortage of English equivalents, but nor is there any shortage of Englishes to consider – and therein lies the problem. The most obvious English equivalent – 'to w**k' – would be unfamiliar and odd on one side of the Atlantic, while 'to jerk off' would be familiar but decidedly American in its associations to English readers. We contemplated 'to pleasure oneself', but it seemed a little sex-positive and a little too polite, while 'fapping' had yet to hit the public (or our) consciousness. Ultimately, we decided on 'to frig' even though we were aware that this use of the word would be unfamiliar to many readers – particularly those too young to remember the Sex Pistols' version of 'Friggin' in the Riggin'' (1979). When we canvassed our students, most thought 'frig' was a euphemism for 'f**k'; and indeed most dictionaries now give 'have sexual intercourse with' as the first definition, and 'to masturbate' as the second. But 'to frig' works in a way that the alternatives do not – it is compact, and usable reflexively or non-reflexively, and transitively or intransitively. We think – or hope – its general unfamiliarity might work in its favour for many readers, as this will mean it won't have strong associations of one particular form of English. In any case, as it occurs so frequently in our translation, we hope readers will soon get used to it and that its initial strangeness will soon be forgotten. Who knows – perhaps the legacy of this translation will be a return of frigging? This article was first published in The Independent. Will McMorran and Thomas Wynn's translation of The 120 Days of Sodom is published by Penguin Classic. PICTURE OF DEBAUCHERY The Marquis de Sade, portrayed by Geoffrey Rush, in the 2000 film Quills (main image); and (below l-r) a depiction of Sade by H Biberstein in L'Œuvre du marquis de Sade; the cover of Vintage's 1991 edition of The 120 Days of Sodom ; a statue of Sade in Lacoste, France; and an illustration from Sade's Juliette I soon realised I was instinctively toning down the original, avoiding words that I found jarringly ugly © SHUTTERSTOCK