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Capstone Reading Week at the Translation Institute
The envelope was waiting on my desk when I arrived on Monday morning.
No name. No note. Just three pages of English prose, clipped together beneath a strip of red paper that read: FINAL CAPSTONE — DO NOT STANDARDISE THE VOICE.
At the Translation Institute, that instruction was almost provocative. We had spent two years learning to remove accidental awkwardness, to smooth interference from another language, to make English sound as though it had never been translated at all. Yet here, on the final week of the programme, the examiners were asking us to resist exactly that instinct.
What they wanted was not invisible translation.
What they wanted was judgement.
The first passage came from a memoir by a woman who had left her country after a military coup. Its opening line was deceptively simple: