Thomas Hirth (Y13) is a student at Wood Green School, Oxfordshire, studying French and German at A-Level. Thomas completed his Year 12 work experience at the Queen’s College Translation Exchange in July 2024. As part of the placement, he completed an evaluation of Wood Green School’s Language Leaders programme. The Language Leaders programme aims to fuel motivation in languages, with the hopes of increasing uptake of languages at GCSE and smoothing the transition between primary and secondary school. During his week at the Translation Exchange, Thomas also reflected on his experience taking part in the Anthea Bell Prize for Young Translators. Read on below!
I am a Year 13 student at Wood Green School. I have been studying both French and German and have so far taken part in two consecutive Anthea Bell Prizes in both languages. Having a German background from birth, I have always been exposed to languages. However, I have never really noticed the intricacies around translation, at least before participating in the Anthea Bell Prize.
Alongside languages, studying both Maths and Physics at A-Level has resulted in me tending to approach languages from a logical perspective, where ‘Der Wald’ means forest and ‘Einsamkeit’ means loneliness, for example. This literal approach, whereby I translated word for word, is the one I had acquired throughout school. It however falls short, particularly when the words are amalgamated. ‘Waldeinsamkeit’ means so much more than just forest loneliness. When used as the title for a poem by Heinrich Heine, it displays a greater sense of connectedness, a magical bond between human and nature, which is depicted despite the apparent seclusion usually connoting something more negative. This ultimately begs the question – is it right to reduce a word merely to its synonymic counterpart, losing the depth that it originally held?
Clearly, the logical approach I tend towards can only act as a gateway into the text, a means for working out the various constituents of which a text consists. This indicates that my previous idea of translation couldn’t do a text any justice, especially when attempting to align it alongside the contextual requirements. The Anthea Bell Prize demonstrated this concept to me, highlighting how it was insufficient to solely translate the words, and that real translation comes from manipulating the insight you gain from literal translation into literary translation through interpretations and reimaginations. The Prize quickly debunked the assumptions that I had subconsciously made, causing me to shift my view of translation from a relationship exercise between words to a medium for conveying thoughts and mood.
I am not sure where I want to go in the future, but one thing has become clear to me over the years – how much I don’t want to stop learning languages.
I remember first being introduced to the Prize through a taster lesson, where we were given a poem in the shape of a mouse. We then had to translate it, staying as close as possible to the literal translation. Naturally, our poems weren’t making much sense and didn’t adhere closely to the colour of the original. Consequently, we were told to repeat the process, but this time we were required to actively match the rhyme scheme. This automatically forced us to think more creatively because words don’t rhyme the same way between languages. It gave us a sense of freedom in that we could create our own shaped poems using the translation as a base, allowing our own interpretations to shine through. This was effectively the debut of the prize in our school, and it was then explained that it was the latter approach to translation that was required for the actual competition. Fascinated by this process, I decided to enter.
Naturally, I adopted the method of translation ingrained into me through school. However, I remember quickly coming across challenges by doing so. I was met with phrases where the corresponding English words just didn’t work, where there was no feasible equivalence, where the English translation made less sense than that of the foreign language itself. It was clear that elements of transparency, and consequently meaning, were being lost through translation. Therefore, it was this transparency that needed to be regained, without losing all the context. Nevertheless, this taught me that the discrepancies regarding translation all exist for a reason. The heavy criticism regarding translation not being close to the original is backed up by the idea that context and cultural specifics need to be considered, making it impossible for an entirely literal translation to be truly reflective of the original.
In particular, the Anthea Bell Prize offered me a platform to work through the selected texts as if they were a puzzle, working out individual parts and then seeing how it contributes to the meaning as a whole. A means for incentivising language learning is the way in which you can explore the text and consequently discover culture. For me, there was an element of satisfaction in seeing how all the parts come together. The words on the page are just a script waiting to be realised in whichever you imagine it. This was a challenge, but a fun and stimulating challenge to say the least.
I am not sure where I want to go in the future, but one thing has become clear to me over the years – how much I don’t want to stop learning languages. I feel that learning is one of the most stimulating and eye-opening things anyone can do, and it is a process that I always want to be a part of. For that reason, I aim to study both French and German at university, for which the Anthea Bell Prize has given me a taster and has left me wanting to delve further into the world of translation and the possibilities that come with it.
