Children’s Literature in Education, Vol. 33, No.

1, March 2002 (䉷 2002)

Akiko Yamazaki holds Akiko Yamazaki

an M.A. in Area Studies
from the University of
Tokyo and an M.A. in
Children’s Literature
from the University of
Surrey Roehampton.
She is presently study- Why Change Names? On the
ing for a Ph.D at the
University of Tokyo, fo- Translation of Children’s Books
cusing on the represen-
tations of time in
twentieth-century En-
glish children’s litera-
ture. Translation of a literary work is never an automatic process but
always poses many problems caused by the differences between two
linguistic and cultural systems. The difficulty seems to be enhanced
if the work to be translated is for children who have little knowl-
edge about the culture from which the text originates. At least, that
must be the idea behind the practice of replacing ‘foreign’ names
with familiar ones, a practice still common in English and German
translations. The present argument is that this change not only
shows a lack of respect toward other cultures but also deprives child
readers of the chance to realize the wealth of cultural diversity that
surrounds them.

KEY WORDS: translation; cultural context adaptation; intercultural power balance.

Cultural diversity has always been a big part of my reading experi-

ence. I am Japanese, but I started school in Germany, where I lived for
two years, and learned to read German as well. Until September 2001
I lived in the United Kingdom for about two years, studying children’s
literature, which means that I read a lot in English. Even during the
years I spent in Japan, about half or more of the books I read in
Japanese originated from cultures other than Japanese, such as British,
American, German, Swedish, Australian, New Zealand, French, Cana-
dian, Swiss, Austrian, Dutch, Russian, Italian, and Hungarian. Being
familiar with the practices of translation (as a reader and also as a
translator) as well as fluent in two foreign languages made me realize
that there are many different ways of translating. I also noticed that
basic attitudes to translation differ from culture to culture and that it
is especially obvious between Japanese and English/German transla-
tions. This difference has a political implication, for translation is
never a purely linguistic matter. The attitude toward and practice of
translation reflect intercultural power balances. Translated texts not
only reveal what kind of relationship the target culture (to which the
translation is aimed) has with the source culture (where the texts

53

0045-6713/02/0300-0053/0 䊚 2002 Human Sciences Press, Inc.

54 Children’s Literature in Education

come from), but also affect that relationship by presenting a certain

image of the source culture. From this standpoint, I am going to focus
on and argue against the replacing of ‘foreign’ names with more famil-
iar ones, a practice of translation that seems to be still common in
English and German translation.

The first time I realized the different ideas underlying the practice of
translation was when I was about nine years old. In the local library
of the Japanese town where I was living at the time, I found a book
written by the Swedish author, Astrid Lindgren, who was one of my
favorites. When I saw the illustration on the cover, I noticed that I had
read it already, but there was something wrong about it. The title
showed that the protagonist’s name was Emil in this Japanese version,
whereas he had been called Michel in the German version I had previ-
ously read. I later found out that Emil was the name given to him in
the original text. I was shocked and became indignant at this change
of names. I felt that I had been cheated by the German translation. For
me it was a matter of credibility, and it was my first lesson on how
arbitrary a translation can be.

Erich Kästner, Emil und Another example I came across is the English translation of Erich Käst-
die Detektive ner’s Emil und die Detektive (Emil and the Detectives).1 The first
thing I noticed was that the preface was gone, the part titled ‘Die
Geschichte fängt noch gar nicht an (The story has not even begun
yet)’ where Kästner speaks directly to readers about how he came to
write the story of Emil. This incorporation of direct address into the
story is a style unique to Kästner, through which he establishes a kind
of personal relationship with the readers, making his sometimes mor-
alistic stories less priggish and less didactic. Since he neither speaks
down to children nor changes his humorous but ironical tone in order
to appeal to them, the message in his books becomes more like an
expression of personal belief rather than the voice of authority. It is
what made Kästner’s books special to me as a child, and I feel very
sorry for English children when I think about their loss as readers.

When I actually started reading the English version, I realized that

more small changes had been made in the text. The names of Emil
and other central characters are kept, but minor characters, whose
original names seem to have struck the translator as too long or as too
German-sounding, are given new names. For example, Krummbiegel
is shortened into Krumm, and Zerlett somehow becomes Meyers.
Characters also sound different when they speak in English. As nei-
ther English nor German is my native language, I will not go into their
modes of speech, but there are instances where they express their
feelings much more mildly in English. This happens most often with
Emil’s cousin, Pony Hütchen. For example, her straightforward words
The Translation of Children’s Books 55

to her father, Mr Heimbold: ‘Alle Wetter, Heimbold, bist du ein Dreck-

schädel (Dear me, Heimbold, what a numbskull you are)’ (p. 157), is
subdued into a quite ordinary ‘You are silly, Dad’ (p. 215), which fails
to convey her personality, characterized by a sharp tongue and a
warm heart.

In the paragraphs and rhythm lies another difference between the

original text and the English translation, which cannot be explained
by the difference between the two languages. As a means of compari-
son, I cite two paragraphs from the English translation (A) and at-
tempt a faithful translation of the corresponding German passage,
making as little change as possible about the length of sentences and
paragraphs, the order of events, the way the situation is described,
and so on (B).2

(A):

Emil leaned out of the window of his carriage to look for the guard.
Then suddenly, a little distance away in the stream of departing pas-
sengers, he saw a bowler hat. At once he thought—“Ah! Mr Grundeis!”
Had he not left the train after all, but only skipped out of one compart-
ment and into another while the train stopped and Emil was asleep?
Without another thought, Emil was out on the platform. He forgot the
flowers on the luggage rack, but just had time to scramble back after
them, dashing in and out of the train as quickly as he could. Then,
flowers in one hand and suitcase in the other, he scurried off towards
the exit. People leaving the train were packed tight near the barrier,
and could hardly move. In the crush, Emil found he had lost sight of the
bowler hat, but he blundered on, stumbling round people’s legs and
bumping into them with his suitcase; but he kept doggedly on till he
saw it again. But then, all at once there were two bowler hats.
The suitcase was so heavy it slowed Emil down terribly, but it might
get stolen if he put it down somewhere so that he could run after his
man. He just had to plunge on, and at last came nearly level with the
bowler hats. But which was the right one? One man seemed too short.
Emil twisted in and out of the crowd after the other, like a Red Indian
on the trail, and was just in time to see his man push through the
barrier, evidently in a great hurry. (pp. 64–65)

(B):

Emil leaned out of the window, looking for the conductor. Then he saw,
at some distance and among many people, a black bowler hat. Could it
be the thief? Maybe he did not get out of the train at all, after he had
robbed Emil, but had just gone to another carriage?
At the next moment Emil stood on the platform, put down his suit-
case, went aboard once more because he forgot the flowers which lay
on the luggage rack, got out again, clutched the suitcase, lifted it high
and ran to the exit as fast as he could. Where was the bowler hat? The
boy bumped against the people in front of him, shoved them with his
56 Children’s Literature in Education

suitcase and ran further. It became more and more crowded, more and
more difficult to go through all those people.
There! The bowler hat! Gosh, there’s another one over there! Emil
could hardly drag his suitcase any longer. He wished he could simply
put it down and leave it there. But then it would be stolen too!
At last he managed to come quite close to the bowler hats.
This one could be the man! Was it?
No.
There was the next one.
No. This man was too short.
Emil snaked his way through masses of people like an Indian.
There, there!
This was the one. Thank god! This was Grundeis. He was just push-
ing through the barrier and seemed to be in a hurry.

The paragraphing of the original text is completely ignored in A and

Kästner’s descriptive and dynamic tone is replaced by an explanatory
one. Example A seems to me to be a retelling of the original rather
than a translation. It has a distinctly different style.

What is the reason for doing such things? Research into the translation
of children’s books and translators’ comments testify that it was and
probably still is a common practice in Europe to make deliberate
changes in the process of translation. It is known as ‘cultural context
Göte Klingberg, Chil- adaptation’ (1986, p. 12). Göte Klingberg exemplifies one extreme
dren’s Fiction in the type of this practice and names it ‘localization,’ in which the names
Hands of the Transla-
tors and the whole location are changed by the translator, and the story is
set in a place familiar to the readers: the original German story, Kin-
derleben oder Karl und Marie, was transplanted to Sweden, and
Torben Weinreich, “In- Hamburg became Stockholm (1986, p. 15). He then cites Torben
ternational book pro- Weinreich as an advocate of this idea (1978, p. 16). Concerning those
duction for children
related to the children’s books ‘which above all aim to describe universal human conditions,
local experiences and where the outlines of the local milieu are blurred just because the
local consciousness” book has to be not too specific, but universal’ (p. 155), Weinreich
argues that localization is a useful technique which can ‘give the audi-
ence an opportunity to concentrate on the performers as well as pos-
sible’ (p. 157).

The idea that foreign things stand in the way of young readers’ appre-
Anthea Bell, “The nam- ciation of translated books is also shared by Anthea Bell, an English
ing of names” translator of German and French children’s books. According to her
essay about the problems inherent in translation, she gives due regard
to the preservation of the original atmosphere and does not go so far
as to transplant a story to England, although she sometimes anglicizes
The Translation of Children’s Books 57

the names of the characters. She explains that it is necessary because

of ‘the in-built English distrust of, and resistance to, anything foreign.
It seems to afflict us—from the publishing point of view—from
picture-book age onward, once the words begin to assume equal im-
portance with the illustrations’ (1985, p. 3). She seems to think that
this is more so with younger children: ‘Obviously “difficult” foreign
names will be least acceptable in picture books for the very young’
(p. 7). Similarly, Klingberg, who does not quite agree with Weinreich
and who asserts that ‘the source text is to be manipulated as little as
possible’ (1986, p. 17), makes a concession about this point and ad-
mits that ‘it may very well be that, say, books for little children dealing
with their own experiences in the immediate environment could be
transferred to a milieu with which they are familiar, especially since
they do not yet know so much of foreign countries’ (p. 17).

Maria Nikolajeva, Chil- Maria Nikolajeva follows the same line of argument using the con-
dren’s Literature cepts of cultural context and semiosphere which is ‘the semiotic
Comes of Age: Towards
a New Aesthetic space necessary for languages to exist and function’ (1996, p. 28). She
argues that semiotic signs in a children’s book, which are known to
the reader from previous experience, help the child ‘to relate details
to a whole system existing outside the text’ (p. 30), whereas a trans-
lated book presents the reader with unknown or misleading signs:

When signs are transposed into another cultural context they are dis-
connected from the original sign system and can no longer fill the “tell-
ing gaps” in the same manner. Moreover, when the target-text reader
places them into a new semiotic space, these signs are interpreted in a
new way which, from the point of view of the original context, is most
often incorrect. (p. 30)

Illustrating how semiotic signs concerning such areas as everyday life,

human relationships, and language can be misunderstood between
Sweden and America, America and Russia, Russia and Sweden, she
concludes pessimistically that ‘children’s literature is basically non-
translatable, since children’s semiotic experience does not allow them
to interpret the signs of an alien semiosphere’ (p. 35).

I admit that a translation inevitably entails a certain degree of cultural

context adaptation, because the act of translation is in itself a sort of
adaptation, but surely there is no point in translating a book if it loses
all trace of the country where it comes from? As I understand it, there
are two main reasons (apart from a commercial one) for translating a
book, whether it is for children or for adults. One is to make a book
of high quality available to a wider audience, and the other is to pro-
vide a perspective into another culture. The one reason is just as im-
portant as the other. It is actually impossible to accomplish the former
object at the expense of the foreign cultural elements, for something
58 Children’s Literature in Education

vital would be lost from the book with them. Based on this belief, I
argue against excessive adaptation in translation and question the two
assumptions underlying the statements I cited above: firstly, foreign
elements in a story are distracting or confusing for children; secondly,
knowledge about a different culture is necessary in order to accept
the culture. The two of them intertwine and seem to form a vicious
circle: since foreign things discourage children from reading, they
should not appear in children’s books; the result is foreign things re-
main foreign for good and children never learn to accept another cul-
ture.

I contend, however, that this vicious circle does not really exist.
Firstly, can young children tell something foreign from something be-
longing to their own culture? Bell uses the word ‘in-built’ in describ-
ing the English people’s antipathy toward foreign things, but I would
say that this reaction to foreignness must be something imprinted
through the surrounding culture and cannot be inborn because lan-
guage itself, including one’s mother tongue, is learned only through
experience. Which language and culture a person first acquires de-
pends totally on the environment in which s/he grows up. Accord-
ingly, whether one has any negative feelings toward something foreign
or, for that matter, what one regards as foreign, is determined through
one’s experience in childhood. To put it more simply, almost every-
thing is foreign or new for a very young child, regardless of the cul-
ture to which the thing belongs. If you think of the popularity of
Disney characters and Thomas the Tank Engine among Japanese chil-
dren, or that of Japanese comics and computer games such as Poké-
mon in America and in Europe, it seems more probable that children
do not make cultural distinctions but just accept what they find attrac-
tive from the things promoted.

Secondly, older children are more likely to recognize the foreignness

of unfamiliar semiotic signs, but I think this does not necessarily dis-
courage them from reading a translated book. Difference can be a
source of attraction, as it is with the genre of fantasy. The appeal of
Ruth Nadelman Lynn, fantasy summarized by Ruth Nadelman Lynn also holds true for stories
Fantasy Literature for set in other countries: ‘Unlike other genres, which tend to offer either
Children and Young
Adults: An Annotated a total escape from or total immersion in reality, fantasy can meet
Bibliography both needs’ (1989, p. xxi). The only difference is that fantasyland is
imaginary while foreign countries really exist. Just as the different,
sometimes even peculiar semiotic signs such as magic and dragon do
not confuse the readers of fantasy, children reading a translated book
would react differently from when they are reading a story with a
familiar setting. Instead of simply relating the semiotic signs to their
own semiosphere, they would suspend their automatic reaction to do
so and try to make out from the signs what this unknown system
The Translation of Children’s Books 59

looks like. It is actually better not to change names but to leave them
as they are as a signal to remind the readers of their entrance into a
different system that requires a different mode of reading. If pronun-
ciation causes trouble, as in an example Bell cites (1985, p. 7), this
Birgit Stolt, “How Emil can be solved by using notes as aids (1978, p. 137).
becomes Michel—On
the translation of chil-
dren’s books” One piece of evidence I can give to support my argument is the situa-
tion in Japan, where translated books hold a substantial share in the
total publication market and translation is taken very seriously. The
genre of children’s books is no exception. The proportion and the
importance of translated books are just as high as in other genres, if
not higher. As is shown in the previously cited example of Lindgren’s
book, it can be generally said that Japanese translation of children’s
books pays due regard to faithfulness compared with its European
counterparts. The Japanese translation of Emil und die Detektive,
which is the version I first read, makes no alteration in names, con-
tent, or structure, and succeeds in re-creating the atmosphere of the
original text. Foreign names and customs do not seem to keep Japa-
nese children from reading and enjoying translated books. Birgit Stolt
gives an example of Japanese children who liked Astrid Lindgren’s
Alla vi barn i Bullerbyn (The Bullerby Children) so much that ‘they
wrote letters to the author, asking whether there really was a Bull-
erby, where it was situated in Sweden and whether one could move
there and live there’ (1978, p. 132), and it is not difficult to find
similar examples.

In her examination of cultural context adaptation, Stolt argues that its

overuse reveals a lack of respect for children, children’s books, and
their authors, since faithfulness to the original text is a central issue in
the translation of nonchildren’s texts. The change of names is a result
of ‘the preconceived opinion of adults about what children want to
read, value and understand,’ in other words, ‘an underestimation of
the child reader’ (1978, p. 134). I agree with this view, but I think
there is yet another factor underlying the arguments in favour of cul-
tural context adaptation—the lack of respect for other cultures. This
is what makes the rejection of foreign names seem trivial and in more
extreme cases excuses the violation of the source text in the name of
education. The concern of this ‘educational intention’ (Stolt, p. 134)
is nothing but the reinforcement of a target culture, the inculcation of
its values, and the obliteration of its taboos through alteration of the
original text, and the accurate presentation of source culture is disre-
garded.

There is indeed a vicious circle at work here, but it is not the one I
mentioned above, which assumes children’s inability to cope with for-
eign things. The real vicious circle has more to do with adults who,
60 Children’s Literature in Education

entangled in the general disrespect for children’s capacity, children’s

books, and Otherness, fail to see the real potential of translated books.
The change of names creates a false impression of a homogenous world,
only to discourage children from learning about other possibilities,
enhancing the feeling of strangeness when children actually come
across foreign names in real life. On the contrary, translated books that
retain signs of their source cultures can provide children with excellent
opportunities to realize the existence of other cultures and to become
familiar with them, experiencing them not as something foreign but as
something that is a part of the environment. Having fully enjoyed the
advantage of faithfully translated children’s books, I believe that they
are an effective way to break the vicious circle of disrespect and igno-
rance. As I argued earlier in this essay, children are more flexible than
adults, and the possibility of change lies in them.

One problem about this might be that children’s books give only a
disproportionate representation of cultures, even if all of them were
to be translated. Not all cultures have children’s literature of their
own, it being a concept that originally belongs to the tradition of the
Western cultures. The countries that do have children’s books differ
from one another in the number of books they produce. When it
comes to the selection of the books to be translated, political, eco-
nomic, and cultural relationships between countries also play an im-
Lars Furuland, “Sweden portant role. According to Lars Furuland, when English books re-
and the international placed German books to become the predominant source text for
children’s book market:
History and present sit- Swedish translation in the 1850s, it was due to the development of
uation” the economic link between the two countries as well as the increased
output of children’s books in England (1978, p. 65). In Britain and
America, where there are many children’s books available without
translation, it is difficult to find commercial and cultural incentives to
publish translated books.

In Japan, where its own children’s literature was established under a

strong Western influence, the majority of translated books come from
Western countries, and other parts of the world are given insufficient
representation on the bookshelves. This should at least partly account
for the strange fact that almost all universities have an English depart-
ment that attracts many students, whereas to study Chinese or Korean
literature is not so common in spite of the geographical proximity and
cultural similarity. As an avid reader of translated books, I myself suf-
fer from this disproportion. I am familiar with Western names and can
tell female names from male ones in most cases, but when it comes to
Chinese names, for instance, I have hardly any notion.

This last example about Japan and myself testifies to what a big differ-
ence the existence of translated books can make to the knowledge,
The Translation of Children’s Books 61

image, and feeling one has about another culture. Supported by this
conviction, my conclusion is that there is no good reason to discard
foreign names from translation for children. On the contrary, it is im-
portant to leave them as they are. The earlier children get used to
them, the better. It is an unalterable fact that there are many different
kinds of people and many different ways of doing things, and books
can be a great help to cope with that reality, if they are translated
properly. Even though they cannot be the perfect solution for all inter-
cultural problems, they can at least introduce children to the idea of
diversity. If only a small number of books are translated in English-
speaking countries, it is all the more important that they are faithfully
translated.

Appendix
Emil beugte sich weit aus dem Fenster und suchte den Zugführer. Da
erblickte er, in einiger Entfernung und zwischen vielen Menschen,
einen steifen schwarzen Hut. Wenn das der Dieb war? Vielleicht war
er, nachdem er Emil bestohlen hatte, gar nicht ausgestiegen, sondern
nur in einen anderen Wagen gegangen?

Im nächsten Augenblick stand Emil auf dem Bahnsteig, setzte den Kof-
fer hin, stieg noch einmal ein, weil er die Blumen, die im Gepäcknetz
lagen, vergessen hatte, stieg wieder aus, packte den Koffer kräftig an,
hob ihn hoch und rannte, sosehr er konnte, dem Ausgang zu.

Wo war der steife Hut? Der Junge stolperte den Leuten vor den
Beinen herum, stieß wen mit dem Koffer, rannte weiter. Die Men-
schenmenge wurde immer dichter und undurchdringlicher.

Da! Dort war der steife Hut! Himmel, da drüben war noch einer! Emil
konnte den Koffer kaum noch schleppen. Am liebsten hätte er ihn
einfach hingestellt und stehen lassen. Doch dann wäre ihm auch der
noch gestohlen worden!

Endlich hatte er sich bis dicht an die steifen Hüte herangedrängt.

Der konnte es sein! War er’s?

Nein.

Dort war der nächste.

Nein. der Mann war zu klein.

Emil schlängelte sich wie ein Indianer durch die Menschenmassen.

62 Children’s Literature in Education

Dort, dort!

Das war der Kerl. Gott sei Dank! Das war der Grundeis. Eben schob er
sich durch die Sperre und schien es eilig zu haben. (pp. 60–61)

Notes
1. The first translation in Britain was published in 1931. A new translation by
the same translator was issued in 1959, which is still in print.
2. Dr. Gillian Lathey helped me with the translation. See appendix for origi-
nal German version.

References
Bell, Anthea, “The naming of names,” Signal 1985, 46, 3–11.
Furuland, Lars, “Sweden and the international children’s book market: History
and present situation,” in Children’s Books in Translation, Göte Klingberg
et al. eds., pp. 60–80. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1978.
Kästner, Erich, Emil und die Detektive, München: Deutscher Taschenbuch
Verlag, 1999. (Original work published 1929)
Kästner, Erich, Emil and the Detectives, transl. Eileen Hall. London: Red Fox,
1959.
Kästner, Erich, Emil to Tantei-tachi, transl. Taro Komatsu. Tokyo: Iwanami
Shoten, 1953.
Klingberg, Göte, Children’s Fiction in the Hands of the Translators. Malmö:
Liber, 1986.
Lynn, Ruth Nadelman, ed., Fantasy Literature for Children and Young
Adults: An Annotated Bibliography. New York: R. R. Bowker, 1989.
Nikolajeva, Maria, Children Literature Comes of Age: Toward a New Aes-
thetic. New York: Garland Publishing, 1996.
Stolt, Birgit, “How Emil becomes Michel—On the translation of children’s
books,” in Children’s Books in Translation, Göte Klingberg et al. eds., pp.
130–46. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell, 1978.
Weinreich, Torben, “International book production for children related to the
children’s local experiences and local consciousness,” in Children’s Books
in Translation, Göte Klingberg et al. eds., pp. 147–58. Stockholm: Alm-
qvist & Wiksell, 1978.