Degenerate Café Conversation and Beyond
By SHEILA JELEN
HEBREW WRITERS ON WRITING
Edited by Peter Cole
320 pages. Trinity University Press. $24.95.
Hebrew Writers on
Writing depicts the struggle for Modern Hebrew, even—and especially—among
the greatest Hebrew writers of the 20th century. In an excerpt from the diary
of Avraham Shlonsky (1900-1973), we read:
What a curse—to be a writer in a language that hasn’t been spoken for
generations. A tongue that has no great-great-grandfathers. To always have to
create something from nothing (and even something from something). By means of
literary association. From books. And not from life. For how long?! Blessed are
you, O infants. Mischevious Hebrew children—you are a comfort.
Edited by Peter Cole, a Jerusalem-based translator and poet, Hebrew Writers on Writing is a rare gift
for those who teach about the Hebrew Revival (the Tehiyah, in Hebrew) in
English translation. The short, concise pieces collected in Hebrew Writers on Writing reflect not
only on the writer’s craft in general, but on the Hebrew writer’s craft
throughout the 20th and into the 21st century. Although there are moments when
the excerpts included here feel somewhat unmoored, since they generally do not
appear in conjunction with any of the poetry or fiction for which these writers
are famous, more frequently Cole has selected exquisite stand-alone essays that
require no further contextualization. These texts stand independent of the
writers’ better-known works, and reflect deeply and brilliantly on the
ambiguity inherent in the secularization of the sacred, the modernization of
the ancient, the nationalization of a diasporic people—all dichotomies that
characterize the miracle, as well as the madness, of the revival of Hebrew in belles letters throughout the 20th
century. In an essay entitled “Thoughts About Our Language” by Gershom Scholem
(1897-1982), the famous scholar of Jewish mysticism, we read:
The land is a volcano, and it hosts the language. People talk a great deal here
about many things which may make us fail—particularly these days about the
Arabs. But another more serious danger than that of the Arab people threatens
us, a danger which follows of necessity from the Zionist enterprise. What will
be the result of updating the Hebrew language? Is not the holy language, which
we have planted among our children, an abyss that must open up? People here do
not know the meaning of what they have done. They think that they have turned
Hebrew into a secular language and that they have removed its apocalyptic
sting, but it is not so.
Anticipating the terrifying power of Hebrew in its process
of secularization so eloquently described by Scholem several decades later,
Asher Ginzburg (Ahad Ha'am) (1856-1927) and Micha Yosef Berdischevsky
(1865-1921)—neither of whom is represented in Hebrew Writers on Writing—engaged in a famous polemic on the pages
of the Odessa based Hebrew monthly periodical ha-Shiloah in 1896. There
they argued about the comparative cultural advantages of fostering Hebrew
writing for its own sake, or encouraging translations into Hebrew (and Yiddish)
from other languages, for the edification of the Jewish masses. Ahad Ha'am
advocated for the gradual cultural rejuvenation of modern Jews through
translation of European literature, history, and science into Jewish languages,
while Berdischevsky called for the creation of original belles letters in Hebrew.
Tension between those who advocated for translation and those who advocated for
original Hebrew literary creation was embodied in the figure of Leah Goldberg
(1911-1970), a well-known Hebrew poet, who founded the department of
Comparative Literature at the Hebrew University, and translated Shakespeare,
Petrarch, Brecht, Tolstoy, Gorky, and Chekov into Hebrew. At a meeting of the
“Higher Council of Culture,” held in Israel in 1952, Goldberg gave a lecture on
translated literature and was virulently denounced by a fellow poet, critic,
and translator, Avraham Yitzhaq Krib. He said that Goldberg was
‘a typical representative of that stream which wants a translated nation’ and
cried out against all those who have no need for roots in Israel, those who
know what the goyim did to us and still kneel before them. What do we need
these Balzacs and Stendhals for? We don’t need any Balzacs, they’re good only
for degenerate conversation in the cafes.
The centrality of translation to the Hebrew Revival is a
subtext of Hebrew Writers on Writing in
the kinds of selections Cole makes and how he chooses to introduce them. Peter
Cole, an extremely agile and accomplished translator, best known for his superb
translations of Medieval Hebrew poetry from Spain, chose the writings included
in this anthology with an eye toward the translation activities of the authors
represented, as well as their own struggle with multilingualism within a Hebrew
literary environment. Cole points out, for example, in his introductions to
these writers, that Dvora Baron (1887-1956), known for her lyrical short
stories about Eastern-European Jewish women’s experience, translated Flaubert,
Chekov, and Jack London into Hebrew, and that Shaul Tchernichowsky (1875-1943),
best known for his epic poetry in European classical meters, translated The
Iliad, The Odyssey, Gilgamesh, Plato’s Symposium,
Goethe, Shakespeare, and many other writers.
The work of translation is never simply a process of rendering a text from one
language into another. Rather, the excellent translation is one that
successfully transitions its readership from one cultural context into another.
The labor of creating a modern vernacular Hebrew out of its component parts
was, and continues to be, a dynamic process not only of importation and
adaptation, but also of sensitive translation.
Amos Oz, in his autobiographical book, A Tale of Love and Darkness, reflects on his great uncle, Joseph
Klausner’s, lexical innovations in Modern Hebrew during the first decades of
the 20th century. These neologisms, in many instances are really no more (and
no less) than translations from other languages:
As a child the thing I most admired Uncle Joseph for was that, as I had been
told, he had invented and given us several simple, everyday Hebrew words, words
that seemed to have been known and used forever, including “pencil,” “iceberg,”
“shirt,” “greenhouse,” “toast,” “cargo,” “monotonous,” “multicolored,”
“sensual,” “crane,” and “rhinoceros.”
Oz concludes by saying that, “a
man who has the ability to generate a new word and to inject it into the
bloodstream of the language seems to me only a little lower than the Creator of
light and darkness.” The writers represented in Hebrew Writers on Writing were (and still are) at the forefront of
this nearly divine process of translating a new language into existence.