Heinz Insu Fenkl on Asian-American literature and Korean literature in translation

[troisroyaumes]

I just read this amazing essay by Heinz Insu Fenkl: Asian American Literature and Korean Literature: Common Problems and Challenges from a Segyehwa Perspective.

Note: segyehwa = 세계화 = 世界化 = globalization

(As context, Fenkl is biracial and grew up in Korea. He wrote Memories of My Ghost Brother, which I have not read myself, but thistleingrey has a thoughtful review.)

I especially agree with what he says about Asian-American literature:

Over the past two decades, literature by Americans of Asian origins has moved from relative obscurity in the American literary landscape to high visibility in the literary mainstream, with works ranging from those acknowledged as commercial best-sellers (e.g., Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club) to ones critically acclaimed by both the academy and the arts community for their innovation and high aesthetic value (e.g., Theresa Hak Kyung Cha's Dictee). In the process of moving from the margins to finding their tenuous place in the problematic contours of the mainstream, Asian American writers have faced particular and complex challenges. These generally have to do with making their own cultural experience and relationship to language(s) not only comprehensible and meaningful, but also aesthetically interesting and artistically legitimate to a readership which is predominantly white and English-speaking -- these are issues that might be considered issues of cultural and linguistic translation. Despite significant hurdles, Asian American writers -- a group among which Korean Americans have always been a significant part (and currently are perhaps the most innovative part) -- have overcome many of the challenges of marginalization, at the same time finding common ground among themselves in which to construct and maintain a unique cultural and aesthetic space. In the past year, not a month has gone by without some recently-published Asian American work (a novel, a memoir, a collection of poetry) being promoted in bookstores, often in sections devoted to featuring new writers section or the ethnic literature.

It is important to keep in mind that Asian American literature has always been marginal in the U.S. and that it is probably the commodification of particular books more than the success of multiculturalism or the mythical "melting pot" phenomenon that has brought Asian American literature such recognition in recent years. (2) Early representations of Asians by white writers were terribly racist, and unfortunately, many early works by Asian Americans were successful precisely because they reiterated the broad spectrum of racist ideas already familiar to the white readership.

I also think he nails the problems of (mis)representation that one faces as diasporan representing a minority culture. These are issues that I've grappled with myself as Korean-American, and I agree with his criticism of Margaret Cho and Chang-rae Lee:

In the U.S., perceptions of Korea are also linked to the news coverage from the recent past: the aftermath of the L.A. riots (Koreans represented as racist, gun-wielding shopkeepers), and most recently, a New York Magazine article comparing Koreans to the Jews. (6) In fictional representations, Koreans are most closely associated with the recent half-hour sit-com, Margaret Cho's All American Girl, and Chang-Rae Lee's 1995 novel, Native Speaker -- both very problematic texts by Korean Americans who seem to have little concern for their role as prominent representatives of their people. Margaret Cho has made a career of making fun of her Korean parents and their odd customs while Lee has allowed his novel to be misrepresented as the first Korean American novel published by a major press, thereby suppressing the rich history of Korean American writing in the U.S. (7) Cho and Lee have tenuous connections to their Korean heritage, and unfortunately, the predominantly white public that consumes their works find it entertaining and non-threatening to "read" their playing out of their insecurities and their criticisms -- both subtle and overt -- of Korean culture; and unlike the Korean American audience more connected to their culture, they do not notice Cho's and Lee's misrepresentations.

Even a Korean American with a shallow understanding of things Korean could easily spot the fact that the rice eaten by the family in the first episode of All American Girl was cooked improperly and scooped with the wrong utensil, or that it was inappropriate, in another episode, for the grandmother to thank her grandson in honorifics. (8) In Lee's novel, although the protagonist is supposedly a "native speaker," there are many cultural and linguistic things that the narrator cannot properly depict, one prominent example being the narrator's confusion of the words param and parum. Figures like Lee and Cho make use of their Koreanness to achieve their success without following through with their reciprocal obligation to the very culture they appropriate. They ultimately serve the American ideology of assimilation without realizing (or perhaps without caring) that they have been bought out and used against people of their own background who, to the white-dominated studios and publishers, are a mere market share. One might note that when Younghill Kang's East Goes West (perhaps the most important early Asian American novel) was published in the late '30s, critics responded very favorably to his problematizing of Korean culture but found his criticism of American culture distasteful. In the popular media, works like All American Girl (which has fortunately been canceled after its first season) and Native Speaker do more to negate than complement or draw necessary attention to the achievements of writers like Younghill Kang, Richard Kim, Kim Ronyoung, and Theresa Cha.

He ties this discussion of Asian-American literature back into the issue of translating Korean literature with this suggestion:

I've already talked about how the role of cultural interpreter and translator has been easily appropriated by commercial interests in the case of Asian American literature in the U.S. When the primary artistic or literary impulse becomes compromised by the promise of fame or fortune, the underlying meanings get compromised as well. When the motivational force behind translation originates with the academy or some government ministry (each of which have their agendas), the products are not always of the best quality or compatible with the interests of the target readership.

What I'm suggesting, somewhat obliquely, is that government and academy actively support translation projects but let the translators themselves select the works based on passionate personal interest and commitment. A translator with free rein and personal motivation will always do a better job than one who works under the funding and editorial control of some organization (no matter how significant that funding may be). The ultimate test for a translation is to measure how successful it is in the target language. For example, the Korean Culture and Arts Foundation, for years, has been funding the translation of works by Hwang Sun-won and Kim Dong-ni, but in America the most widely-read Korean works are White Badge by Ahn Jung-hyo and the Words of Farewell anthology containing the works of Kang Sok-kyong, Kim Chi-won, and O Jong-hui. (12) These are not exactly the works that the Korean government or the academy would rank highest priority for translation, but in each case, the books resonate with a particular interest in the American readership; they also reflect the personal interest and commitment of their translators and authors.

Korea will only be able to contribute the valuable lessons in its literature to the world once it understands the complex dynamics of translation. The burden in this is not on the original writers, nor should it be on the academy or some government ministry -- it should be upon the translators to adequately address the issues of language, culture and aesthetics. It is only by creating an appropriate theory and practice of translation, which requires the cooperation of literary and cultural scholars of many nations, that Korea will either find or create the kind of translators necessary to carry out the mandate of segyehwa.

Interestingly, I visited the website of the Korea Literature Translation Institute, funded by the government, where the top notice is an announcement that starting in 2010, they will stop giving out translation grants for works that are not on the Institute's list of recommended books...

What do people think?