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The Philosophy of Translation
A deep dive into the nature of translation from one of its most acclaimed practitioners
Avoiding theoretical debates and clichéd metaphors, award-winning translator Damion Searls has written a fresh, approachable, and convincing account of what translation really is and what translators actually do. As the translator of sixty books from multiple languages, Searls has spent decades grappling with words on the most granular nouns and verbs, accents on people’s names, rhymes, rhythm, “untranslatable” cultural nuances. Here, he connects a wealth of specific examples to larger philosophical issues of reading and perception. Translation, he argues, is fundamentally a way of reading—but reading is much more than taking in information, and translating is far from a mechanical process of converting one word to another. This sharp and inviting exploration of the theory and practice of translation is for anyone who has ever marveled at the beauty, force, and movement of language.
Avoiding theoretical debates and clichéd metaphors, award-winning translator Damion Searls has written a fresh, approachable, and convincing account of what translation really is and what translators actually do. As the translator of sixty books from multiple languages, Searls has spent decades grappling with words on the most granular nouns and verbs, accents on people’s names, rhymes, rhythm, “untranslatable” cultural nuances. Here, he connects a wealth of specific examples to larger philosophical issues of reading and perception. Translation, he argues, is fundamentally a way of reading—but reading is much more than taking in information, and translating is far from a mechanical process of converting one word to another. This sharp and inviting exploration of the theory and practice of translation is for anyone who has ever marveled at the beauty, force, and movement of language.
248 pages, Hardcover
First published October 29, 2024
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
March 24, 2026
I worked for a while as a translator in broadcast news and have always been fascinated by the craft of shifting thoughts from one language to another, yet I find myself often irritated by the way people talk about translation – either making something quasi-mystical out of the process, or focusing in on the distractions of word-for-word ‘accuracy’. I love arguing (in my head) with people like Lydia Davis, Anne Carson, JM Coetzee or Ngũgĩ wa Thiong'o, but when I read their books I am arguing. So if I say that I gulped Damion Searls's contribution down within twenty-four hours, in transports of delight, it's perhaps just a way of saying that I've finally found someone who I think is speaking perfect sense on the issue.
Which is maybe surprising, because in a way this book only gets going halfway through. The first four chapters are – as the title promises/threatens – a consideration of the philosophical underpinnings of how translation might function, drawing on Bakhtinian semantics, Shklovskyan defamiliarisation and Merleau-Ponty's phenomenology of perception. Your tolerance for this may be greater than mine. But this deep-dive is followed by a second half which looks at concrete examples of how translation happens in practice, and this part of the book is so good that I forgave everything.
Searls is an experienced translator from four different languages, and has translated everyone from Nietzsche to Proust to Jon Fosse. Once he gets past the philosophy to the brass tacks of how he does it, his approach is fantastically down to earth and demystifying.
His basic position, which I’ve not seen put quite like this before, is that fundamentally ‘translation is a kind of reading’. Of course you have to be a good writer to translate well, but so do other kinds of writers. What distinguishes a translator is their ability to really experience a text and take note of their reactions to it – and his descriptions here of doing that are instantly convincing and recognisable:
Perhaps you could say that there’s something slightly disingenuous here – Searls does in fact lavish several pages on specific translation ‘choices’ that he’s agonised over – but the wider point is well made, that these decisions are not a matter of academic assessment, but rather of trying to clarify things that are instinctive and unconscious.
He is very good on hammering home the essential point, still widely misunderstood, that ‘The translator’s job is not to find the right word for a specific foreign word’. Generally speaking, translation works like this: you read something, and you understand that it means X. Your job then is not to translate the words, it’s to say X yourself in your own language. I always used to explain this by saying that the basic unit of meaning is not the word but the sentence, but Searls takes this a step further. He considers the basic unit to be an ‘utterance’ (the term is taken, inevitably, from Bakhtin), and an utterance can be as small as a word or as long as a three-volume novel.
And he’s absolutely right – there is a real sense that, at least conceptually, you have to translate the whole thing at once, even if you physically have to write things a letter at a time. A word may have an exact equivalent in another language, but that doesn’t mean it will be the right word within a translation, because that is something determined entirely by its context. ‘Words don’t mean anything,’ Searls insists; ‘people mean things with words.’
He doesn’t give many examples of this specific phenomenon, but lots occurred to me as I was reading it. In taxonomic terms, the German word for ‘rabbit’ is Kaninchen, the German word for ‘hare’ is Hase. But I would say that Hase takes up the same kind of cultural space in German as ‘rabbit’ does in English: it is, if you like, the basic idea of a hoppy, long-eared leporid. The Easter Bunny is the Osterhase, and so on. So if a character in a German novel gazes out of a train window and sees a Hase hopping through a field, I would be tempted to match the vibes by calling this a ‘rabbit’ in English translation (unless the character is, say, a vet or a zoologist or something).
But this concept of ‘matching the vibes’ (my term, not Searls’s) sounds vague; he does an excellent job of breaking the process down into practical considerations. Searls feels, for example, that German pushes much of its meaning into its often compounded nouns, whereas English in comparison tends to prefer meaningful verbs. ‘A good translation from German,’ he suggests, ‘has to denounify.’ The same is probably true of most Romance languages, relative to English: he quotes a nice example from Daniel Hahn’s translating diary:
I suppose the same goes for French. In literal French, people ‘give a blow of the foot’, ‘enter into competition’, ‘make fear’, ‘give out cries’; in English, we kick, compete, scare and scream. These examples are obvious, in the sense that no one would translate them literally in the first place. But they help you recognise the wider point. If a French person says, Je lui ai donné un coup de main, it would be perfectly reasonable to translate this as ‘I gave her a hand’, and many translators, like Lydia Davis, would no doubt view this as the most faithful solution. But it's worth considering whether the naturalness of the verb phrase in French is not better represented by the more forcefully English (and denounified) ‘I helped her out’. In isolation, of course, the choice doesn't matter much. But in the context of a longer work, an over-reliance on such constructions can make English start to seem a bit…washed-out, or just slightly off. Indeed it’s often such intangibilities that make something feel like ‘translationese’.
That Searls has a good ear for ‘the sound of the thing’ is apparent on every page: he writes incredibly well, adopting an endearing colloquial style here which is designed to bring everyone along with him, and it’s very welcome (especially during the philosophical interludes). He’s just extremely good company. Anyone remotely interested in the subject should make room on their shelves for this…and if you skip straight to p. 108, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.
Which is maybe surprising, because in a way this book only gets going halfway through. The first four chapters are – as the title promises/threatens – a consideration of the philosophical underpinnings of how translation might function, drawing on Bakhtinian semantics, Shklovskyan defamiliarisation and Merleau-Ponty's phenomenology of perception. Your tolerance for this may be greater than mine. But this deep-dive is followed by a second half which looks at concrete examples of how translation happens in practice, and this part of the book is so good that I forgave everything.
Searls is an experienced translator from four different languages, and has translated everyone from Nietzsche to Proust to Jon Fosse. Once he gets past the philosophy to the brass tacks of how he does it, his approach is fantastically down to earth and demystifying.
His basic position, which I’ve not seen put quite like this before, is that fundamentally ‘translation is a kind of reading’. Of course you have to be a good writer to translate well, but so do other kinds of writers. What distinguishes a translator is their ability to really experience a text and take note of their reactions to it – and his descriptions here of doing that are instantly convincing and recognisable:
The question of how I “choose” which words to “use” in a translation feels to me a bit like asking what pictures I “choose” to see in my mind when I'm reading an Austen or Dickens novel. Or what I “choose” to see and hear in a given environment, when my eyes are pointed at a sunset or my ears are near a barking dog […]. I'm not choosing. The book itself, once I've decided to read it, is what makes me picture Mr. Darcy or Oliver Twist in a certain way, even if it makes other people picture these characters in different ways; I may notice different things than someone else about the same sunset or garbage dump we're both looking at, but I'm not choosing to see the sunset that's there, once I've gone outside and opened my eyes.
Perhaps you could say that there’s something slightly disingenuous here – Searls does in fact lavish several pages on specific translation ‘choices’ that he’s agonised over – but the wider point is well made, that these decisions are not a matter of academic assessment, but rather of trying to clarify things that are instinctive and unconscious.
He is very good on hammering home the essential point, still widely misunderstood, that ‘The translator’s job is not to find the right word for a specific foreign word’. Generally speaking, translation works like this: you read something, and you understand that it means X. Your job then is not to translate the words, it’s to say X yourself in your own language. I always used to explain this by saying that the basic unit of meaning is not the word but the sentence, but Searls takes this a step further. He considers the basic unit to be an ‘utterance’ (the term is taken, inevitably, from Bakhtin), and an utterance can be as small as a word or as long as a three-volume novel.
And he’s absolutely right – there is a real sense that, at least conceptually, you have to translate the whole thing at once, even if you physically have to write things a letter at a time. A word may have an exact equivalent in another language, but that doesn’t mean it will be the right word within a translation, because that is something determined entirely by its context. ‘Words don’t mean anything,’ Searls insists; ‘people mean things with words.’
He doesn’t give many examples of this specific phenomenon, but lots occurred to me as I was reading it. In taxonomic terms, the German word for ‘rabbit’ is Kaninchen, the German word for ‘hare’ is Hase. But I would say that Hase takes up the same kind of cultural space in German as ‘rabbit’ does in English: it is, if you like, the basic idea of a hoppy, long-eared leporid. The Easter Bunny is the Osterhase, and so on. So if a character in a German novel gazes out of a train window and sees a Hase hopping through a field, I would be tempted to match the vibes by calling this a ‘rabbit’ in English translation (unless the character is, say, a vet or a zoologist or something).
But this concept of ‘matching the vibes’ (my term, not Searls’s) sounds vague; he does an excellent job of breaking the process down into practical considerations. Searls feels, for example, that German pushes much of its meaning into its often compounded nouns, whereas English in comparison tends to prefer meaningful verbs. ‘A good translation from German,’ he suggests, ‘has to denounify.’ The same is probably true of most Romance languages, relative to English: he quotes a nice example from Daniel Hahn’s translating diary:
English does great verbs: I just took a phrase which in Spanish was something like “I pulled up with great and abrupt strength” and translated it as “I yanked”.
I suppose the same goes for French. In literal French, people ‘give a blow of the foot’, ‘enter into competition’, ‘make fear’, ‘give out cries’; in English, we kick, compete, scare and scream. These examples are obvious, in the sense that no one would translate them literally in the first place. But they help you recognise the wider point. If a French person says, Je lui ai donné un coup de main, it would be perfectly reasonable to translate this as ‘I gave her a hand’, and many translators, like Lydia Davis, would no doubt view this as the most faithful solution. But it's worth considering whether the naturalness of the verb phrase in French is not better represented by the more forcefully English (and denounified) ‘I helped her out’. In isolation, of course, the choice doesn't matter much. But in the context of a longer work, an over-reliance on such constructions can make English start to seem a bit…washed-out, or just slightly off. Indeed it’s often such intangibilities that make something feel like ‘translationese’.
The acoustics of the text is so much of what matters in a translation and so little of what people usually talk about: translations are always reviewed and praised or criticized in terms of their accuracy, or perhaps faithfulness, when the sound of the thing is what makes or breaks it, the same as with anything else one reads.
That Searls has a good ear for ‘the sound of the thing’ is apparent on every page: he writes incredibly well, adopting an endearing colloquial style here which is designed to bring everyone along with him, and it’s very welcome (especially during the philosophical interludes). He’s just extremely good company. Anyone remotely interested in the subject should make room on their shelves for this…and if you skip straight to p. 108, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.
December 25, 2024
An excellent read.
Literature in translation is one of my special interests. Additionally being bilingual, there are many aspects of translation that I like to think about. This book provided a lot of insight on such topics in a very clear and compelling manner.
What I liked the most about the book besides the thoughtful compiling of subject matter was the exquisite clarity of writing. This feature of Searls' has been evident in his English translations of Jon Fosse's works of fiction but to accomplish it in non-fiction...it was like listening to a very cool professor lecture on a subject I find very interesting but don't know much about. Thoroughly engaging from beginning to end.
Please try this book. I would also recommend taking note of the footnotes in each chapter and the references therein...many of them would be very useful follow-up reading material.
Just realised one thing - this book is an open conversation with other translators and their approaches just as much as it is a helpful resource for readers.
Literature in translation is one of my special interests. Additionally being bilingual, there are many aspects of translation that I like to think about. This book provided a lot of insight on such topics in a very clear and compelling manner.
What I liked the most about the book besides the thoughtful compiling of subject matter was the exquisite clarity of writing. This feature of Searls' has been evident in his English translations of Jon Fosse's works of fiction but to accomplish it in non-fiction...it was like listening to a very cool professor lecture on a subject I find very interesting but don't know much about. Thoroughly engaging from beginning to end.
Please try this book. I would also recommend taking note of the footnotes in each chapter and the references therein...many of them would be very useful follow-up reading material.
Just realised one thing - this book is an open conversation with other translators and their approaches just as much as it is a helpful resource for readers.
April 29, 2025
I essentially agree with everything Searls is saying in this book, which is a lovely read if you're someone who has ever thought about translation / are a hobbyist translator (like myself), and while I appreciate the coda of the book that deals directly with the threat (or non-threat, if you take Searls' word for it) of AI translation, I wonder if it's not a bit blindly optimistic. It's true that a good translation is the product of a subjective relationship and reading process with a given text, and it is true that this is beyond the capabilities of machine-translation, but I think the problem we will encounter in the coming years is that people don't really care. Searls' job security working on Fosse for indie presses is probably pretty good, but I wonder how long it will be before one of the Big Five will test the waters with an AI translation. I'm a bit pessimistic on this issue because I don't really see any evidence to the contrary — it seems like a lot of people out there not only tolerate AI slop but are fully charmed by it no matter how artless the thing is.
Even still, we will always have people like Searls, like Grossman, like Bernofsky, who, through their cultivated relationships with text, bring forth fruitful miracles of art: literature.
Even still, we will always have people like Searls, like Grossman, like Bernofsky, who, through their cultivated relationships with text, bring forth fruitful miracles of art: literature.
April 3, 2025
so so spannend! neue hyperfixation unlocked
January 20, 2026
exceptionally boring
April 27, 2025
This is an extraordinary book, truly terrific! Not only does it deal with translation, but with what it means to express something in any language, reconsider it for a new audience (culture, age, time period), and make it seem as vital and alive for this new audience as the author hoped for his original audience. I don't think I'll ever be able to read anything again without thinking of this book. Really. I totally appreciated Searles' informal style and anecdotes, real-text examples, and footnotes, too.
Want to read
November 10, 2024read excerpt in lithub https://lithub.com/why-close-reading-...
December 24, 2024
This work of nonfiction explores various philosophical dimensions of the art and science of translating texts between languages. The author uses a variety of different anecdotes/examples, and he draws from a variety of sources.
I found this book very interesting and I appreciated how approachable it was. I don’t think this book necessarily adds a lot of original thought to this space, but I do think his perspective as a professional translator makes him more apt to provide context and valuable personal reflections for the philosophical concepts he reviews.
I’ve always been quite interested in translation and aware of how different personal contexts, time periods, and nuances of individual languages impact how one might approach translating work or reading a translated text. If you have similar interests, it’s definitely worth checking this book out!
I found this book very interesting and I appreciated how approachable it was. I don’t think this book necessarily adds a lot of original thought to this space, but I do think his perspective as a professional translator makes him more apt to provide context and valuable personal reflections for the philosophical concepts he reviews.
I’ve always been quite interested in translation and aware of how different personal contexts, time periods, and nuances of individual languages impact how one might approach translating work or reading a translated text. If you have similar interests, it’s definitely worth checking this book out!
November 13, 2024
This book is actually phenomenal.
I was thinking about the philosophy behind translation especially, especially when I read through Crime and Punishment at the start of the summer. I read Katz' translation of C+P, and I've heard it described as far more aristocratic-style than most translations. At the end of the summer, Pevear and Vorokhnosky, who have written a lot of Russian translations and wrote my translation of The Idiot, got profiled in the NYTimes. When I read their profile (https://www.nytimes.com/2024/08/26/bo...), what struck me was how different an experience reading C+P was compared to The Idiot. This got me thinking seriously about translation for the first time.
Searls addresses a lot of questions that are really, immensely thought provoking. What is the balance in style? How to balance modern readers with ancient texts? How much should words be translated, vs. concepts, vs. form, vs. ideas? (I'm particularly interested in translations from Old English to English, which are for all intents and purposes different languages, but ostnesibly follow the same unbroken path). How much should a translation be affected by politics (spoiler, they all are.)
I'm particularly intrigued in Biblical translation, since I can understand Biblical Hebrew but not the Greek and Latin of the NT. How much should religious priorities weigh, vs. secularized "authenticity to the text?" For a good example, consider the difference in Isaiah 7:14, where whether you translate העלמה as "the virgin" vs. "the young woman" makrs a pretty big distinction on how explicitly religious the symbolism should be. (this is an actual trnalsation difference between the NIV and NRSV versions of the Bible)
Searls expertly talks about a lot of other elements that go into translation. How much can forcefulness of expression be translated, to be authentic? The phrase "I had a dream" is not itself a particularly strong expression, as "had" is rather dull and generic of a verb. But we English speakers know that what made this strong a strong phrase was its delivery and context within the time. How much of that is authentic to translate? What about to languages that don't have a dummy very like "had?" Is "I dreamt a dream" or "I envisioned a future" or "I imagined a future" or what the optimal of doing so?
I love philosophy of language, and philosophy of translation is like an incredible mix of that with other branches of philosophy. (In particular, if you're interested in the notion of whether culture and language is prescriptive or descriptive, Searls will provide you with many arguments for both sides.)
If you've ever read a foreign book, or like philosophy, or are a human being, read this! Verabschiedung!
I was thinking about the philosophy behind translation especially, especially when I read through Crime and Punishment at the start of the summer. I read Katz' translation of C+P, and I've heard it described as far more aristocratic-style than most translations. At the end of the summer, Pevear and Vorokhnosky, who have written a lot of Russian translations and wrote my translation of The Idiot, got profiled in the NYTimes. When I read their profile (https://www.nytimes.com/2024/08/26/bo...), what struck me was how different an experience reading C+P was compared to The Idiot. This got me thinking seriously about translation for the first time.
Searls addresses a lot of questions that are really, immensely thought provoking. What is the balance in style? How to balance modern readers with ancient texts? How much should words be translated, vs. concepts, vs. form, vs. ideas? (I'm particularly interested in translations from Old English to English, which are for all intents and purposes different languages, but ostnesibly follow the same unbroken path). How much should a translation be affected by politics (spoiler, they all are.)
I'm particularly intrigued in Biblical translation, since I can understand Biblical Hebrew but not the Greek and Latin of the NT. How much should religious priorities weigh, vs. secularized "authenticity to the text?" For a good example, consider the difference in Isaiah 7:14, where whether you translate העלמה as "the virgin" vs. "the young woman" makrs a pretty big distinction on how explicitly religious the symbolism should be. (this is an actual trnalsation difference between the NIV and NRSV versions of the Bible)
Searls expertly talks about a lot of other elements that go into translation. How much can forcefulness of expression be translated, to be authentic? The phrase "I had a dream" is not itself a particularly strong expression, as "had" is rather dull and generic of a verb. But we English speakers know that what made this strong a strong phrase was its delivery and context within the time. How much of that is authentic to translate? What about to languages that don't have a dummy very like "had?" Is "I dreamt a dream" or "I envisioned a future" or "I imagined a future" or what the optimal of doing so?
I love philosophy of language, and philosophy of translation is like an incredible mix of that with other branches of philosophy. (In particular, if you're interested in the notion of whether culture and language is prescriptive or descriptive, Searls will provide you with many arguments for both sides.)
If you've ever read a foreign book, or like philosophy, or are a human being, read this! Verabschiedung!
February 28, 2025
I ordered this book after reading a review in the London Times Literary Supplement. With deadpan irony, the reviewer wrote, ‘Searls chides David Bellos [a very eminent translator] for asserting that translators should have a decent knowledge of languages they work from’. Time to move on, but … on the other hand, I was curious about the translation which caused Searls to vent his anger, because the translation is so ‘miserable’ and so ‘impenetrable’.
So, I bought Searls and was quite taken back by the reference to a presumably hate-filled translator, who may have wanted to humiliate Benjamin.
As a native speaker of German and an avid reader of Benjamin, I find the cited translation very accurate and beautifully close to the original. At the same time, it is embedded in a rich English literary tradition of intellectual discourse. Take, for example, the expression ‘minuteness of detail’. Are we really saying that John Locke, John Ruskin, Edgar Allen Poe and George Eliot were not using the right words to describe a state of careful observation and deep contemplation? Another example Searls scoffs at is the translator’s ‘reckoned to the account’, a phrase that has been used from Tertullian (in translation), among others, on to the logician John Venn.
It seems clear to me that the derided translator did not choose to muffle Benjamin but rather sought to lend him the dignity of his great predecessors. The TLS reviewer noted, ‘Searls is a better translator than he is a writer’. I fear that the trouble with Searls lies even deeper. His pages are a heap of babble.
So, I bought Searls and was quite taken back by the reference to a presumably hate-filled translator, who may have wanted to humiliate Benjamin.
As a native speaker of German and an avid reader of Benjamin, I find the cited translation very accurate and beautifully close to the original. At the same time, it is embedded in a rich English literary tradition of intellectual discourse. Take, for example, the expression ‘minuteness of detail’. Are we really saying that John Locke, John Ruskin, Edgar Allen Poe and George Eliot were not using the right words to describe a state of careful observation and deep contemplation? Another example Searls scoffs at is the translator’s ‘reckoned to the account’, a phrase that has been used from Tertullian (in translation), among others, on to the logician John Venn.
It seems clear to me that the derided translator did not choose to muffle Benjamin but rather sought to lend him the dignity of his great predecessors. The TLS reviewer noted, ‘Searls is a better translator than he is a writer’. I fear that the trouble with Searls lies even deeper. His pages are a heap of babble.
February 18, 2025
Damion Searls knows a thing or two about translation, as he has translated more than 60 books into one of his four languages of expertise- French, German, Dutch, and Norwegian. In this fine book, he explains how it should and should not be done. Searls has a philosophy of translation of translation as opposed to a theory of translation. A theory implies a method with precise rules. A philosophy, however, indicates more open-mindedness, even relativism. For Searls, a translation is neither right nor wrong; it is either good or bad.
Searls describes the practice of translation as "something like moving through the world" as he moves between languages and cultures, between authors and readers. Translation is the complex process of reading in one language and writing in another. This is also a philosophy of close reading. One must read the author's context, emotion, tone, and accent. It is much more than a mechanical word-for-word translation. Phenomenologists do it on a broader philosophical level when "reading" the world. Think of Merleau-Ponty's examination of how we perceive objects. There are many ways of knowing the thing we are looking at.
In a hyperspeed world of declining attention spans and formulaic genre fiction, Searls encourages us to engage in "the deeply human act of reading." So the next time you read a book, slow down and read more deeply; even if you are not a translator, it will be more rewarding.
Searls describes the practice of translation as "something like moving through the world" as he moves between languages and cultures, between authors and readers. Translation is the complex process of reading in one language and writing in another. This is also a philosophy of close reading. One must read the author's context, emotion, tone, and accent. It is much more than a mechanical word-for-word translation. Phenomenologists do it on a broader philosophical level when "reading" the world. Think of Merleau-Ponty's examination of how we perceive objects. There are many ways of knowing the thing we are looking at.
In a hyperspeed world of declining attention spans and formulaic genre fiction, Searls encourages us to engage in "the deeply human act of reading." So the next time you read a book, slow down and read more deeply; even if you are not a translator, it will be more rewarding.
June 12, 2025
This was a very interesting book split into two basic sections: a review of historical views on translation and then specific examples that provide general guidelines about how to tackle translating.
I found the overview to be very interesting, and I think he did a good job summarizing and finding common threads between translators across time and traditions. As an aspiring translator, it is cool to feel like I’m a part of something larger.
The author did a particularly good job connecting historical ideas about translation to his own practices, transitioning between the book’s first and second parts. He doesn’t translate from the language that I do, but that doesn’t mean his ideas are less applicable. I also thought he did good work explaining how AI relates to translation, and how it doesn’t appear that the robots will be taking over that particular job in the near future.
I have only read one other book about translation, This Little Art, and this book takes a less personal, more scholarly approach. They are both very helpful, full of specific examples and wide ranging advice, but I would recommend one over the other based on personal leaning more than anything. This is a book well worth checking out.
I found the overview to be very interesting, and I think he did a good job summarizing and finding common threads between translators across time and traditions. As an aspiring translator, it is cool to feel like I’m a part of something larger.
The author did a particularly good job connecting historical ideas about translation to his own practices, transitioning between the book’s first and second parts. He doesn’t translate from the language that I do, but that doesn’t mean his ideas are less applicable. I also thought he did good work explaining how AI relates to translation, and how it doesn’t appear that the robots will be taking over that particular job in the near future.
I have only read one other book about translation, This Little Art, and this book takes a less personal, more scholarly approach. They are both very helpful, full of specific examples and wide ranging advice, but I would recommend one over the other based on personal leaning more than anything. This is a book well worth checking out.
November 26, 2025
i read this book exclusively on the bus to and from work because i knew if i didn’t (or brought another book) i would trade it for another less thoughtful and more typical book of fiction—and im glad i stuck with it. the above means nothing abt the quality of the book and lots about the quality of the reader, since i historically don’t have a ton of patience for philosophy. but ive been missing language and learning since graduating, and this definitely filled that void inside of me.
the book starts with abstract philosophical musings on what translation IS, as well as a short history of translation (vs traduction), which i found super interesting. i strongly preferred the second half, though, which is more concrete examples of How one translates. i really enjoyed getting an expert’s insight into the controversies of translation and many examples of the concepts he discussed. overall a nice, thoughtful but not overly long look into smth i didn’t know a lot about! worth a read additionally for anyone who lives in our new world of google/AI translation.
the book starts with abstract philosophical musings on what translation IS, as well as a short history of translation (vs traduction), which i found super interesting. i strongly preferred the second half, though, which is more concrete examples of How one translates. i really enjoyed getting an expert’s insight into the controversies of translation and many examples of the concepts he discussed. overall a nice, thoughtful but not overly long look into smth i didn’t know a lot about! worth a read additionally for anyone who lives in our new world of google/AI translation.
July 9, 2025
DAMION SEARLS YOU ICON
- “No one translates a text— they translate their reading of the text, and everyone has different reading experiences.”
- “Language is "dialogical" and "heteroglossic" —spoken in someone's voice and always incorporating, responding to, invoking and evoking the "voices" of others within the very utterance.”
- “Reading not only is perception, it changes the nature of our perception going forward.”
- “Translation reveals, in other words, that when we talk about "the deeply human enterprise" of creativity or thought that ChatGPT cannot replace, what we're really talking about is the deeply human act of reading.”
- “No one translates a text— they translate their reading of the text, and everyone has different reading experiences.”
- “Language is "dialogical" and "heteroglossic" —spoken in someone's voice and always incorporating, responding to, invoking and evoking the "voices" of others within the very utterance.”
- “Reading not only is perception, it changes the nature of our perception going forward.”
- “Translation reveals, in other words, that when we talk about "the deeply human enterprise" of creativity or thought that ChatGPT cannot replace, what we're really talking about is the deeply human act of reading.”
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September 24, 2025Super fascinating, especially as someone that reads quite a bit of translated literature. Searls is Fosse’s translator, and the greatest strength of this book is in the back few chapters that elaborate on translation choices and the balance of evoking the same associations and “faithfulness” to the intent of the author.
I don’t fully agree with a few of Searls’ views, but one of is translated for a Nobel laureate and the other one can barely speak her first language so… 🙃
I don’t fully agree with a few of Searls’ views, but one of is translated for a Nobel laureate and the other one can barely speak her first language so… 🙃
April 1, 2025
"Reading not only is a perception, it changes the nature of our perception going forward."
I think this book has become one of my favorite books on translation.
It touches all the important points regarding translation in a clear well-structured manner.
If you're a translation student or just someone interested in the subject, I would definetely recommend it.
I think this book has become one of my favorite books on translation.
It touches all the important points regarding translation in a clear well-structured manner.
If you're a translation student or just someone interested in the subject, I would definetely recommend it.
April 2, 2025
The author, an accomplished writer and translator, effectively makes the case the translation is a topic with deep philosophical consequences. I'll never look at a book I read in translation the same again.
P.S. I got this book from Nord Books, a little bookstore in Stockholm that has the best curation of books. I've never gone there and not been shocked to find a new interesting book.
P.S. I got this book from Nord Books, a little bookstore in Stockholm that has the best curation of books. I've never gone there and not been shocked to find a new interesting book.
August 13, 2025
FASCINATING!!!!! i dont have a background in translation (besides some linguistics classes in undergrad lol) or philosophy, but i found this to be a very accessible read.
it’s eye-opening to see how fluid translation can be. i’ve never really sat to think about how often translation encompasses way more than just mapping lexicon and syntax from one language to another. respect to all the translators putting in the work out there.
it’s eye-opening to see how fluid translation can be. i’ve never really sat to think about how often translation encompasses way more than just mapping lexicon and syntax from one language to another. respect to all the translators putting in the work out there.
February 16, 2025
Inspiring, well-supported view of translation that opens up possibilities, fun to read.
Accessible without dumbing down, really tries to demystify translation while at the same time enhancing my appreciation and excitement about translation.
Accessible without dumbing down, really tries to demystify translation while at the same time enhancing my appreciation and excitement about translation.
April 1, 2025
Absolutely fascinating. I learned so much from this book. It made me think hard an about a lot of things, and some of my beliefs and practices as a (self-taught) translator that I have simply taken for granted. Highly recommended!
March 20, 2026
Outstanding
Searls illuminated different and previously unthought of aspects of translation in every chapter, invoking metaphors, music, haiku, and the reduction to notes in an electronic health record. An excellent read.
Searls illuminated different and previously unthought of aspects of translation in every chapter, invoking metaphors, music, haiku, and the reduction to notes in an electronic health record. An excellent read.
January 13, 2025
Solidly illuminating, albeit a very introductory text to the wonderful thinking on translation. Great footnotes/sources to expand your reading. Fine family fun, a gentle and inspiring read
February 3, 2025
Tough reading it (for me) It has some interesting highlights about the origin of words and the idea of meaning being not something literally but a sense, a way to understand and being understood.
February 19, 2026
The author gives us an intriguing glimpse into the relevance to translation work of phenomenology, particularly as practised by Maurice Merleau-Ponty in his Phenomenology of Perception, but I am not sure he did the latter work much justice, e.g. here:
"The main point I want to make here is that perception involves a kind of intentionality. In phenomenology-speak, “intentionality” doesn’t mean doing something on purpose, it means that perception embodies implicit or explicit intentions—when I see something, my body is directed in a certain way, my actual or potential actions are pointing toward something. Seeing a chair doesn’t mean: a physical object exists in Newtonian space and I, a disembodied gaze or some kind of analytical robot, receive information about it. Seeing a chair means: “Aha, there’s somewhere I could sit.” That is the basic level perception operates on. The fact that I can sit in it is what makes it a chair;"
"The seer and the thing seen aren’t separated as subject and object but move within a system of “living bonds.”
Okay, I just get the impression here that this phenomenological "living bond" level of reality is much more often than not a dispensible level for the translator to consider. As Searls himself points out, a chair is not just for sitting on (see my next week's laundry pile https://www.facebook.com/zehrovak/pos... ), and likewise a language does not just have one fixed set of "afforances", as these can easily shift over register, genre, time, geographical territory and so forth.
Still, "level of intentionality" might be a useful analytical tool. https://www.facebook.com/groups/18875...
"I will continue to quasi-personify or grant agency to languages: for example, “the German language” puts things this way, whereas “English wants to” put it that way,"
Okay well just as a chair is generally something to sit on among many other things, so a language generally has many trends and tendencies, affordances if you like, which can often rapidly change over various contexts as I pointed out above. For me a phrase like ‘English wants to’ can be a useful fiction, an organizing conceit rather than anything like an eternal verity, but it is often much more useful IMO to talk in terms of specific registers, genres, fields, modes and the like, not to mention times and places. Searls does not really resolve this dichotomy, as he himself admits:
"Sometimes I feel tempted to concede that any talk of “the language” and what it is or does is ultimately a mystification: all that exists are users of language. A language doesn’t work in a certain way—speakers are pushed or invited to speak and write in a certain way. Conventions (rules, games, genres) exist only in the practice of actual people."
"At other moments, I tell myself to have the courage of my phenomenological convictions! If a chair can invite us to sit down—if a chair is an active agent that affords us various possibilities—then so too can language afford various possibilities, inviting and expecting us to say certain things and not others. The chair is not just a dead thing, inherently meaningless until I project my uses and desires onto it. No, it exists in a living bond with us,"
So this "because philosophy" justification is not terribly convincing within this overall perspective. Still, I suppose it is refreshing that he is so consistently ambivalent :-) in the face of so much apodictic European "translatology", which he successfully ignores.
Other insights that will take me further into the Merleau-Ponty rabbit-hole:
"The world is not full of objects: it is an ecosystem of real and potential actions and interactions. To identify something [...] 'is to perceive what can be done with it, what it is good for, its utility.'"
"Reading with attention to the baseline of the language, as opposed to taking the language for granted, is reading like a translator."
"Reading like a translator involves not only finding the original text’s deviations, originalities, and treasures but also deciding what are standard aspects of the original language not specific to this given text, which therefore don’t need to be expressed in a translation."
So also check out Speech Genres and Other Late Essays by Mikhail Bakhtin
"Others besides Bakhtin have used different terminology to describe linguistic conventions. Ludwig Wittgenstein talks about “language games,” and in my view the rules of a Wittgensteinian language game are synonymous with the Bakhtinian speech genres of a given situation."
"Mikhail Bakhtin called them “speech genres”: the “relatively stable” linguistic forms, the types of things one can say in a given situation in response to another utterance."
"a repertoire so rich that we often don’t realize we are constrained at all. But there are limits,"
"Language is made up of practices, not words."
Check out this thread on Czechlist for more useful quotes from this book. https://www.facebook.com/groups/18875...
"The main point I want to make here is that perception involves a kind of intentionality. In phenomenology-speak, “intentionality” doesn’t mean doing something on purpose, it means that perception embodies implicit or explicit intentions—when I see something, my body is directed in a certain way, my actual or potential actions are pointing toward something. Seeing a chair doesn’t mean: a physical object exists in Newtonian space and I, a disembodied gaze or some kind of analytical robot, receive information about it. Seeing a chair means: “Aha, there’s somewhere I could sit.” That is the basic level perception operates on. The fact that I can sit in it is what makes it a chair;"
"The seer and the thing seen aren’t separated as subject and object but move within a system of “living bonds.”
Okay, I just get the impression here that this phenomenological "living bond" level of reality is much more often than not a dispensible level for the translator to consider. As Searls himself points out, a chair is not just for sitting on (see my next week's laundry pile https://www.facebook.com/zehrovak/pos... ), and likewise a language does not just have one fixed set of "afforances", as these can easily shift over register, genre, time, geographical territory and so forth.
Still, "level of intentionality" might be a useful analytical tool. https://www.facebook.com/groups/18875...
"I will continue to quasi-personify or grant agency to languages: for example, “the German language” puts things this way, whereas “English wants to” put it that way,"
Okay well just as a chair is generally something to sit on among many other things, so a language generally has many trends and tendencies, affordances if you like, which can often rapidly change over various contexts as I pointed out above. For me a phrase like ‘English wants to’ can be a useful fiction, an organizing conceit rather than anything like an eternal verity, but it is often much more useful IMO to talk in terms of specific registers, genres, fields, modes and the like, not to mention times and places. Searls does not really resolve this dichotomy, as he himself admits:
"Sometimes I feel tempted to concede that any talk of “the language” and what it is or does is ultimately a mystification: all that exists are users of language. A language doesn’t work in a certain way—speakers are pushed or invited to speak and write in a certain way. Conventions (rules, games, genres) exist only in the practice of actual people."
"At other moments, I tell myself to have the courage of my phenomenological convictions! If a chair can invite us to sit down—if a chair is an active agent that affords us various possibilities—then so too can language afford various possibilities, inviting and expecting us to say certain things and not others. The chair is not just a dead thing, inherently meaningless until I project my uses and desires onto it. No, it exists in a living bond with us,"
So this "because philosophy" justification is not terribly convincing within this overall perspective. Still, I suppose it is refreshing that he is so consistently ambivalent :-) in the face of so much apodictic European "translatology", which he successfully ignores.
Other insights that will take me further into the Merleau-Ponty rabbit-hole:
"The world is not full of objects: it is an ecosystem of real and potential actions and interactions. To identify something [...] 'is to perceive what can be done with it, what it is good for, its utility.'"
"Reading with attention to the baseline of the language, as opposed to taking the language for granted, is reading like a translator."
"Reading like a translator involves not only finding the original text’s deviations, originalities, and treasures but also deciding what are standard aspects of the original language not specific to this given text, which therefore don’t need to be expressed in a translation."
So also check out Speech Genres and Other Late Essays by Mikhail Bakhtin
"Others besides Bakhtin have used different terminology to describe linguistic conventions. Ludwig Wittgenstein talks about “language games,” and in my view the rules of a Wittgensteinian language game are synonymous with the Bakhtinian speech genres of a given situation."
"Mikhail Bakhtin called them “speech genres”: the “relatively stable” linguistic forms, the types of things one can say in a given situation in response to another utterance."
"a repertoire so rich that we often don’t realize we are constrained at all. But there are limits,"
"Language is made up of practices, not words."
Check out this thread on Czechlist for more useful quotes from this book. https://www.facebook.com/groups/18875...
May 21, 2025
A fascinating journey into the machinations of translating a text from one language (but more than that, a set of understandings and world experiences) to another.
May 25, 2025
words are so cool!
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January 25, 2026The large lake resembles a child completely silent because asleep and dreaming.
November 30, 2024
As an avid reader of translated fiction, the idea of translating, and the relationship between the translator, the words and and the original author always fascinates me. And so I came to this with high hopes of an insight into the world - and philosophy - of translation.
It's interesting, yes, but it's quite heavy going and it just somehow always stayed out of my reach. Lots of pages of specific examples which didn't interest, so the idea of the book far exceeded my response to it. Perhaps it's something to dip into now and again. Worthy and revealing, but a little dry at times. Somewhere around 3.5 stars.
It's interesting, yes, but it's quite heavy going and it just somehow always stayed out of my reach. Lots of pages of specific examples which didn't interest, so the idea of the book far exceeded my response to it. Perhaps it's something to dip into now and again. Worthy and revealing, but a little dry at times. Somewhere around 3.5 stars.
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