The first time 80,000 people watched Dick Fosbury jump, they were captivated. Back then, there were four ways to high jump. Fosbury didn’t use any of them; he jumped the way that felt natural to him. Over time, this jump of his became a little weirder and went a little higher, until it took him all the way to the 1968 Summer Olympics.
On 20 October 1968, he walked into the high-jump final wearing mismatched jumping shoes. Every time the bar was raised, Fosbury found a way over it until there was nobody left but him.
On his third attempt, he jumped over the bat at 2.24 metres, setting an Olympic record and winning the gold medal. He then attempted 2.29 metres, above Valeriy Brumel’s world record, missing three times.
This jump became known as the “Fosbury Flop”. Today, virtually every elite jumper in the world uses it.
Nearly no student is born a good translator. I taught at university for more than a decade. Students deemed talented are often gifted at languages; however, not every student who is “good” at languages makes a “good” translator. I write about my experience in this series.
The real effort happens behind the scenes: developing one’s technique, honing the voice of the translator and their personal style, despite what the professor has to say about it. Among the students I taught, those who became brilliant translators had a technique that set them apart—a signature unique to them that they were not afraid to own.
This is important, as traditional translation schools oftentimes scourge students who demonstrate creativity and “colour outside the lines”, so to speak.
Fosbury was so much a regular man his success was not predictable. Except he was an athlete who took his sport seriously, practiced relentlessly, and trusted his intuition.
The last bit is the one that interests translators most. It is what distinguishes them from all other translators and professors alike.
A technique—an imprint, a mark.
Yours.
—R.