Translating botany: not all a bed of roses?
Botany is no secret garden for Lynda Hepburn – who in another life was an ecologist and field botanist working in the Scottish Highlands. During her talk at METM24, Lynda shared her expertise on translating botany, perhaps even planting the seeds of a new niche in some minds.
Why talk about translating botany in the first place? Lynda began by explaining that the main challenges are rooted in the specialist terminology and specific style, as with many other fields. General issues encountered in translation are relevant too. Even if you don’t specialize in botany, you never know where it might creep up – in tourist brochures, wine descriptions, texts about topics such as horticulture and alternative medicine, and more.
Lynda talked about identifying, describing and naming plants. Plants are identified in Latin by a binomial name and usually classified from kingdom to species. Specialist terminology comes into play when describing plant parts. Everyone has heard of a leaf, but what about a receptacle? Other key aspects are the growth habit (e.g. tall and straight), the habitat (woodland, moors) and the distribution (wide or narrow). Naming plants is not simple. A European blueberry is a blaeberry in Scotland and a bilberry in England, or a whortleberry in specific parts of England. Food plants especially tend to have many regional names and Lynda guided us on how to feel confident in our choice. Reliable sources are essential and you must bear in mind that a garden shop might call a plant one name, a university might call it another – and a university in another country might call it something else again. When two names exist that seem equally justified, consider your audience. Are you addressing expert horticulturalists or visitors at an exhibition?
Latin plays a role in more than the name. When translating botany, the translator must choose between technical Latinate terms and simple English words. Technical terms are short and unambiguous, while English terms are easy to understand but longer. “Ovate” or “egg-shaped”? “Lanceolate” or “lance-shaped”? “Acuminate” or “tapering to a long point”? A mixture of Latinate and English terms may be most appropriate.
After an interactive quiz to test our newfound knowledge, Lynda finished her presentation with a discussion on source-text dilemmas. One potential dilemma is that the source text might be too vague: for example, the German word “haarig” means “hairy”, but also “tomentose”, “villous”, “pilose” and “hispid”. In such cases, you need a good photograph to be spot-on with your choice of adjective. Another dilemma is rendering colours, as these often don’t have a one-to-one translation; some languages distinguish more or fewer shades. Do you mean magenta, purple, violet, mauve, lilac or fuchsia? Using two colours may be suitable, but it’s worth considering what’s most useful to the target reader. Many botanical texts have a particular style – no verbs, no conjunctions, no articles. They are contracted and formulaic, and often use symbols. A lot of information must fit into a small space. As with other types of translation, cultural references and other source-language specificities must be handled in a way that doesn’t alienate readers.
Lynda left us with a botanical translation checklist that could apply to any text: Is it accurate? Clear? Concise? Consistent? If not, are your choices justified? Are ambiguous references avoided? Are Latin names spelled correctly? Is the text easy to understand for the target audience? Ultimately, make sure that the plant on your page resembles reality… down to the last thorny detail, as Lynda cleverly put it. Thank you, Lynda, for an engaging journey into the intricacies, pitfalls and dilemmas of translating about plants.
This METM24 presentation was chronicled by Aleksandra Chlon.
Featured photo courtesy of MET.