Dual Readership and Hidden Subtexts in Childrenâs Literature
The Case of Salman Rushdieâs âHaroun and the Sea of Storiesâ
METTE RUDVIN & FRANCESCA ORLATI1
University of Bologna, Italy
Abstract. This paper investigates the translations of Salman Rushdieâs childrenâs book Haroun and the Sea of Stories (1990) into Italian and Norwegian. As Rushdieâs first book after the publication of The Satanic Verses and the fatwa pronounced against him by the Iranian Ayatollah Khomeini, it was initially presented as an âunthreatening childrenâs bookâ despite its politically potent subtext. Thanks to the ambivalent status of its dual target readership and the metaphorical structuring of the attack on censorship, the text managed to communicate with its readership, bypassing the censors. This paper examines the strategies used by the translators to solve textual and subtextual translational challenges and discusses how they influence the textâs more oblique political subtext. It also examines how the translators address the characteristically Rushdian technique of the âliteralization of metaphorâ. Given that translatorsâ strategies mirror the societal, literary and publishing norms of the target culture, a series of interesting translation issues emerge here: the micro-structural co-ordination of culture specificities, the macro-structural marketing policies dictating the translating strategies of the political subtext through metaphor, the positioning of the target reader as child or adult, and the place of translators and translations within the literary polysystem and the wider social system.
Part One
Haroun and the Sea of Stories (hereafter Haroun) was the first book Salman Rushdie published after he went into hiding2 subsequent to the fatwa pronounced against him in 1989 by the Ayatollah Khomeini in response to the publication of The Satanic Verses (1988).3 Readers will no doubt be familiar with the hostile reception of The Satanic Verses by Muslim militants and the impact it had on the bookâs author as well as its publishers and translators, several of whom were wounded and/or killed. The tragic effects of the reaction to The Satanic Verses led the publishing world to exercise caution in its promotion. This paper suggests that a general mood of caution prevailed in the managing of the political subtext of Haroun, the result of which was to market it primarily as a childrenâs book rather than as a political commentary or attack on the fatwa episode. In fact, written and marketed as a book for children, it falls within that category described by Zohar Shavit (1986) as a text with an âambivalent statusâ, that is a text written for (and/or received by) both adults and children at various textual levels of both production and reception.4 This bookâs multi-layered structure is richer than even most âambivalent textsâ: presented as an unthreatening âchildrenâs bookâ (children and childrenâs literature being at the margins of the establishment and of its polysystem), its politically potent subtext is easily overlooked. The metaphorical structuring of the attack on censorship coupled with the ambivalent status of the target reader (child/adult) allows the text to communicate with readers behind the censorsâ backs.
In a perceptive essay on the role of censorship in Haroun, Mina Chandran (2002) reminds us of Jorge Luis Borgesâs comment that âcensorship is the mother of metaphorâ, a comment particularly pertinent to the text at issue not only because of its metaphorical structuring of the attack on censorship, but also because of the ambivalent status of its target reader child/adult. Although critics in academia and the more sophisticated literary journalists soon began to show an interest in and to appreciate and address its political subtext for an adult readership, the book initially received scant attention on the international publisherâs market, despite the fame (and at that time notoriety) of its author. Indeed, that very lack of attention â especially given the circumstances and despite the excellent reviews by several leading critics â is indicative of the low prestige accorded to childrenâs literature generally.
A brief description of the book
Haroun is an exciting adventure story for children, a good yarn drawing on literary traditions spanning millennia in their intertextual allusions (from Persian literature and The Arabian Nights to The Wizard of Oz)5 and spanning vast geographical territories (from Iran to the Isis in Aliceâs Oxford), but at the same time following a time-honoured fairy tale structure. It tells the adventure of the boy-hero Haroun and his quest to save his storytelling father (Rashid/Rushdie) who has lost his ability to tell stories as the result of a psychological trauma: his motherâs elopement with the story-hostile neighbour. At this primary level it has much in common with so many of the childrenâs literature classics â it is the story of a child, told to a child (in Rushdieâs case to his son) following the tradition of Lewis, Milne, Barry, Kipling and Kingsley in a re-evocation of a childhood realm of fantasy and idyll. It is a story about the healing nature and ability of childhood and children; and it is the story of a childâs development and maturation subsequent to a crisis by traversing, psychologically and spatially, a series of obstacles and vicissitudes.
The plot of Haroun could be summarized as follows: In the sad city of Alifbay (the Hindi- Urdu word for âthe alphabetâ) lives our hero Haroun with his father Rashid, a famous storyteller. One day Harounâs mother Soraya runs off with their sourpuss neighbour Mr. Sengupta who doesnât approve of Rashidâs prolific story-producing imagination. Haroun, angry with his father for not preventing the tragedy, asks âwhatâs the use of stories that arenât true?!â. From that moment, Rashid loses his gift for story telling and is struck dumb during his next public appearance at Dull Lake (clearly a mimetic symbol of the famously beautiful Dal Lake in Sringar, Kashmir). Lodged on a houseboat on the Lake, Haroun is joined by a series of mythical creatures (Iff the onion-like water Genie, Butt the Hoopoe, Mali the vegetable-like gardener, the Plentimaw fishes) and embarks on an adventure to save his fatherâs storytelling abilities. Even more ambitiously he aims to save the Sea of Stories, the source of all narrative, from the dangerous scheming of Khattam Shud (meaning âfinishedâ) and his men, whose malevolent project of destruction is to poison the sea of stories and destroy narrative, fiction and imagination for ever, imposing on the world a reign of terror and silence. Haroun and his father are aided in their quest by the mythical creatures of Gup City (Gupshup means âgossipâ), a world of eternal sunlight and speech ruled by King Chattergy and his son Prince Bolo (which means âspeak!â) and aided by General Kitab (meaning âbookâ). Gup City is thus the binary opposition to Khattam Shudâs reign of darkness and silence. Although clearly following the structure of a childrenâs text and in part an elaborative fairy tale, the repertoire of narrative strategies employed in Haroun evokes the magical realism of Midnightâs Children, Rushdieâs literary breakthrough. Eric Yu describes Haroun as basically âa fairytale for children, with a sci-fi touchâ and notes that it includes the main components of the European wonder-tale, (using Jack Zipesâ analytical framework): âthe lack of concrete, real temporal and geographical references, the presence of supernatural powers and magical agents, relatively straightforward characterization in diametrical opposition of good versus evil, and above all, the happy endingâ (Yu 2001).6 With its Kafkian undertones in the Land of Chup (âsilenceâ), the shadows and the shadow warrior, and with the sophisticated intertextuality, the book also appeals to adult readers as a story as well as a political critique.
The ambivalent target
As David Galef notes in âCrossing Over: Authors Who Write Both Childrenâs and Adultâs Fictionâ, there are three broad categories of writers who write for both adults and children, and with Haroun Rushdie falls (albeit not squarely) into the first, most frequent category: writers of adult fiction who take up childrenâs literature in mid-career, the impetus often being the birth and/or growth of their first child (Galef 1995:29). Not âsquarelyâ for several reasons: firstly it is to date Rushdieâs only childrenâs book and as such is not a career-turn; secondly because the subtext of this particular book seems to be aimed at a specific event in the writerâs life. It holds therefore an even more peculiar status in the interface of adult-child readership than most so-called cross-over writing. In terms of language complexity it seems to address a juvenile audience, roughly the age of the son to whom the book was dedicated. Perhaps one could also relate the theme of crossover writing to Rushdieâs meta-commentary on dialogue and the reintegration of binary opposites. As Teverson (2001) says, âIn a tale that is largely about oppositions â between fantasy and reality, between child and adult, between good and bad â Rushdie is being careful to suggest that there can be dialogue and crossover between categoriesâ. The genre cross-over inherent in the text could also be read then as âdialogueâ, as parallel texts functioning reciprocally, symbiotically generating meaning concomitantly rather than separately. By functioning synchronically each of the elements feeds into and enriches the other â adult literature is being enriched by childrenâs literature and vice versa.
Language in Haroun: for children or adults?
Clearly, the language in Haroun is more indicative of a juvenile readership than an adult readership. Although Peter Hunt (1991) is quick to note that any definition or classification of childrenâs literature is condemned from the outset to over-simplification and over-generalization, he provides us with a useful list of typical (perhaps stereotypical) characteristics of the language and style of childrenâs literature which, for what concerns language and structure, could be summarized as follows: child-orientedness, simplicity, easy structure, a narrow range of grammatical and lexical patterns, simple lexis and register, standard set phrases, words from everyday life, repetitions, short texts and sentences (see Hunt 1991:62). Other traits considered typical of literature for children are that dialogue and incident are more prevalent than description, introspection or thought; the concrete is privileged over the abstract, the indeterminate or the ambiguous; the pace of the plot is fast rather than slow; and movement and action prevail over stasis, inaction or reflection. Haroun respects these norms both at the primary level of plot, and at the various sub-levels as a dream or as reflection employing a child-like range of lexis and grammatical structures, especially in the narratorâs and the main protagonistâs voice. In terms of the use of standard set phrases and idioms rather than experimental language, Haroun operates on both levels: the simplicity of register and lexis is belied by the originality and creativity in the plot and by a varied range of speech patterns employed by the members of the cast. Haroun fits quite comfortably into the childrenâs book model described above in terms of language, except perhaps for the extreme and complex playfulness found in the punning and the âliteralization of metaphorâ technique (much like the linguistic playfulness of Carroll). Conventions are freely used, both linguistic, literary and social conventions, but at the same time are playfully subverted and twisted. The language is fertile, vivid, alive, and new words appear as the characters make them up. The language is eternally playful, appealing to children directly and to adults for its multi-layering and subtexts manifested in that very playfulness, also through the pregnant allusions in names and place-names. The nonsensical element in language, content and the continuous allusion to âgup/nonsenseâ also upholds the childrenâs book ambience in the tradition of Alice and Lear. Further strengthening the âpower of nonsenseâ is the abundance of fantasy creatures such as the Plentimaw fishes, Goopy and Bagha, all speaking interactively in verse.
Typical childrenâs literature motifs and traits at the level of content would be lack of historical detail or context (a timeless setting); lack of technical or specific details; clear-cut moral schematism, an optimistic rather than depressive outlook; certainty rather than probability; the prevalence of magic-fantasy-simplicity-adventure; themes such as childhood, friendship, familial relationships, maturation processes; avoidance of themes such as death, violence, sex, horror, disease, war, controversial social norms, alcohol and swear words. All of these apply to Haroun. Hunt also notes the common (erroneous) assumption that quality literature with high levels of complexity in form and content is incompatible with literature targeted for children, bringing us to the heart of the discussion of dual readerships: how can a text that follows the structures of childrenâs language appeal to adults and vice versa? How can a ârealâ childrenâs text function as an effective and powerful critique of the adult world â on the adultsâ own premises and according to their parameters and literary norms? Like Carroll and Swift, Rushdie resorts to irony, allusion, metaphor, intertextuality and âhiddenâ adult subtexts to create, successfully, this double target. At the level of content, then, Haroun successfully caters to a dual readership. It will be interesting then to investigate how this duality is expressed in the various target texts in Part Two below.
The theme of Imagination
One of the key subtexts of the book, closely interwoven with its political message, is that of the writerâs Imagination. It might ...