Ecotranslation applied: Two Spanish translations of H. G. Wells "The Country of the Blind"

The birth of the ecological movement in the 1960s motivated the conception of a new branch of Translation Studies known as Ecotranslation. This scarcely known theoretical research framework sets off from two main notions: firstly, the representation of nature in literature and secondly, the importance of the different roles and interpretations that nature can be provided with in literary works. From these bases, the goal of our pilot study was to apply this new nature-centered approach to the translations of H. G. Wells’ short story The Country of the Blind, as rendered into Spanish by Íñigo Jáuregui (2014) and Alfonso Hernández Catá (1919). The acknowledgement that Ecotranslation derives from a general awareness towards nature, considering it as an intrinsic feature of humankind which simultaneously influences and is affected by human behavior, motivated the following analysis of the role that Wells attributed to it in his short story The Country Of The Blind, which evinced a strong correspondence between environment and society in the original text, where nature was shown to be an essential instrument to figuratively reflect social concerns. Setting off from that critical analysis we compared how two chronologically separate translators rendered the natural elements of the original story into a different language, in this case Spanish. In general terms, data confirmed that Jauregi´s translation, published in 2014, encompasses a much more literal approach to the source text, rendering Well´s original terminology into the closest equivalent expressions in Spanish. While Hernández Catá, seems to have focused his work on the idea of human control over nature, even if this decision meant altering the precise way in which Wells articulated his ideas.

The Ultimate Secrecy: Feminist Readings of Masculine Trauma in Vietnam War Literature

It is a widely acknowledged and often unquestioned fact that patriarchy and its modes of behaviour and social organization favour the appearance of trauma on the weakest (and defenceless) members of society: women. In the last decades, trauma seems to have taken the baton of typically female maladies such as 19th c. hysteria or 20th c. madness. Feminists in the 20th c. have long worked to prove the connection between the latter affections (and their reflection in literary texts) and patriarchal oppression or expectations of feminine behaviour and accordance to roles and rules. With Trauma Studies on the rise, the approach to the idea of the untold as related to femininity is manifold: on the one hand, is not trauma, which precludes telling about one’s own experience and keeps it locked not only from the others, but also from ourselves, the ultimate secrecy? On the other hand, when analyzing works that reflect trauma, one is astounded by the high number of them with a female protagonist and an almost all-female cast: in this sense, a ‘feminist’ reading is almost compulsory, in the sense that it is usually the author’s assumption that patriarchal systems of exploitation and expectations favour traumatic events and their outcome (silence and secrets) on the powerless, usually women. Often, traumatic texts combine feminism with other analytical discourses (one of the topics proposed for this panel): Toni Morrison’s study of traumatic responses in The Bluest Eye and Beloved cannot be untangled from her critique of slavery; just as much of Chicana feminism and its representations of rape and abuse (two main agents of trauma) analyze the nexus of patriarchy, new forms of post-colonialism, and the dynamics of power and powerlessness in ethnic contexts. Within this tradition that establishes the secrecies of trauma as an almost exclusively feminine characteristic, one is however faced with texts which have traumatized males as protagonists: curiously enough, most of these characters have suffered trauma through a typically masculine experience: that of war and its aftermath. By analyzing novels dealing with war veterans from Vietnam or the Second World War, the astounding findings are the frequent mixture of masculine or even ‘macho’ values and the denial of any kind of ‘feminine’ characteristics, combined with a very strict set of rules of power and hierarchy that clearly establish who is empowered and who is powerless. It is our argument that this replication of patriarchal modes of domination, which place the lowest ranks of the army in a ‘feminine’ situation, blended with the compulsory ‘macho’ stance soldiers are forced to adopt as army men (as seen, for example, in Philip Caputo’s Indian Country, Larry Heinemann’s Paco’s Story or Ed Dodge’s DAU: A Novel of Vietnam) furthers the onset and seriousness of ulterior trauma. In this sense, we can also analyze this kind of writing from a ‘feminist’ point of view, since the dynamics of über-patriarchal power established at the front at war-time deny any display of elements traditionally viewed as ‘feminine’ (such as grief, guilt or emotions) in soldiers. If trauma is the result of a game of patriarchal empowerment, how can feminist works, not only theoretical, but also fictional, overthrow it? Are ‘feminine’ characteristics necessary to escape trauma, even in male victims? How can feminist readings of trauma enhance our understanding of its dynamics and help produce new modes of interaction that transcend power and gender division as the basis for the organization of society?