О трудностях перевода и братьях по разуму

Тем, кто полагает, что хорошо владеет английским, предлагаю в качестве теста почитать какую-нибудь художку из современного интеллектуального мэйнстрима. Вот я сейчас воюю Филиппа Рота, роман «The Human Stain», приобретенный на американском Букфесте-2012. С тяжелыми боями продвигаюсь от страницы к странице, и за воскресенье добрался лишь до тринадцатой. А что делать, когда там через два абзаца на третий вот такое вот:

Once Coleman had come under attack, however — once the racist charge had been taken up for investigation, not only by the new dean of faculty but by the college's small black student organization and by a black activist group from Pittsfield — the outright madness of it blotted out the million difficulties of the Silks' marriage, and that same imperiousness that had for four decades clashed with his own obstinate autonomy and resulted in the unending friction of their lives, Iris placed at the disposal of her husband's cause. Though for years they had not slept in the same bed or been able to endure very much of the other's conversation — or of the other's friends — the Silks were side by side again, waving their fists in the faces of people they hated more profoundly than, in their most insufferable moments, they could manage to hate each other. All they'd had in common as comradely lovers forty years earlier in Greenwich Village — when he was at NYU finishing up his Ph.D. and Iris was an escapee fresh from two nutty anarchist parents in Passaic and modeling for life drawing classes at the Art Students League, armed already with her thicket of important hair, big-featured and voluptuous, already then a theatrical-looking high priestess in folkloric jewelry, the biblical high priestess from before the time of the synagogue — all they'd had in common in those Village days (except for the erotic passion) once again broke wildly out into the open... until the morning when she awakened with a ferocious headache and no feeling in one of her arms. Coleman rushed her to the hospital, but by the next day she was dead.

( Далее... )

Несколько постингов с моими переводами: комиксовый вариант «Дороги к рабству» Фридриха Хайека; «I'll be gone» Тома Уэйтса; «Brother, can you spare a dime?» Джея Горни и Ипа Гарбурга; мультик по физике с моими русскими субтитрами.