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'(Re)translation: a literary and/or commercial phenomenon

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'(Re)translation: a literary and/or commercial phenomenon'

In the Dictionary of Translation Studies (Shuttleworth 1997: 146), on looking up the term 'retranslation' we find nothing more than a cross-reference to indirect translation, 'a term used to denote the procedure whereby a text is not translated directly from an original ST, but via an intermediate translation in another language'. I would argue that this interpretation of 'retranslation' is not particularly widespread: when questioned directly on the subject, although not necessarily able to come up with a definite meaning, many presume that the term must refer to some form of 'back-translation', 'a process in which a text which has been translated into a given language is retranslated into SL' (Shuttleworth 1997: 14). The term does not appear in the index of the Routledge Encyclopedia of Translation Studies (Baker 1998).

Although there has been more recent attention to trying to standardise the terminology used in translation studies (See Jean Delisle et als. 2002, Magris et als. 2003) there is still evidently some way to go, especially when referring to areas of the discipline that enjoy little attention.

For the purposes of this paper, I intend to use 'retranslation' as meaning 'a process whereby a text that has already been translated into a given language, is translated a second, third, fourth time into that same language'. The area where this practice is most widespread is obviously that of the translation of sacred texts, the Bible being a case in point. If we run a somewhat crude search on an English-language online library catalogue68, using the keywords ‘new translation’, roughly 75 percent of all entries that ensue are retranslations of (parts of) the Bible. Moving beyond the field of translations of holy texts, we find that it is a practice confined almost entirely to literary works, especially those that enjoy some form of canonical status, although its occurrence is also present in other fields (there are, for example multiple versions into the same language of the works of Darwin, Freud or Marx and Engels). The very fact that there does not appear to be any general consensus on the terminology can perhaps serve as a clue as to the amount of scholarly research in this area of translation studies. Despite being a thoroughly common phenomenon, retranslation as such has received very little academic attention. Where there exist several translations of the same original, on the whole critics appear to limit their attention to a comparative analysis of the various translations without addressing the underlying question as to why there are several translations in the first place.

There is a number of different reasons behind the phenomenon of retranslation and we can perhaps outline four major categories into which the majority of occurrences tend to fall. These four categories are not however always clear-cut and indeed often overlap: the first is represented by those new translations that in some way attempt to update the language of an older version, bringing the original text ‘closer’ to the contemporary reader; the second category includes new versions that have been carried out according to new translation practice; the third is that of translations based on a specific new ideology or interpretation of the source text that has emerged since the original translation appeared; the fourth category into which retranslations can broadly be divided is that of new versions occasioned by market forces within the publishing industry and the commercial policies they entail. While the first three of these categories are sometimes referred to explicitly or dealt with in implicit allusions, the fourth is very rarely addressed in current writings on (re)translation. In this paper, I intend to outline examples of each of the four categories, drawing on examples from literature and translation theory. The fourth category will be examined in more detail with specific examples from the current Italian situation. As already mentioned, one or more of these categories often overlap and, therefore, the motivation for any specific retranslation will not always be as clear-cut as we might hope. As well as these four categories, there is also a myriad of lesser, almost idiosyncratic reasons for which retranslations occur and some of these will also be illustrated.

One of the very few publications dealing with the matter of retranslation, is the monographic issue of Palimpsestes (1990) entitled 'Retraduire'. In the introduction to this volume, Paul Bensimon states quite clearly :

"Toute traduction est historique, toute retraduction l'est aussi. Ni l'une ni l'autre ne sont séparables de la culture, de l'idéologie, de la littérature, dans une société donnée, à un moment de l'histoire donné. Comme traduire, retraduire est à la fois un acte individuel et une pratique culturelle. Comme celle du traducteur, l'écriture du retraducteur est traversée par la langue de son époque." (1990: ix)
[All translations are historically bound, as are all retranslations. In both cases, they cannot be seen as separate from the culture, ideology and literature of a given society, in a given historical context. Just as with translation, retranslation is both an individual act and a cultural practice. As is the case with the translator, the work of the retranslator is informed by the language of her/his time.]69
These statements tend to anticipate the principal reason put forward as to the necessity for retranslations: it is a truism that while original works enjoy some form of immortality, translations, on the other hand, are subject to ageing. In his essay 'La retraduction comme espace de la traduction', Antoine Berman confirms this widely-held view and adds a further reason for new translations: no translation can ever be the definitive translation of a given work.
"Il faut retraduire parce que les traductions vieillissent, et parce qu'aucune n'est la traduction." (1990: 1)70
[Retranslation is necessary because translations age and none is the translation.]

He then proceeds to explain that while there are some translations that do stand up to the test of time, these tend to be what he terms 'grandes traductions' and therefore exceptions (Saint Jerome's Vulgate, Luther's Bible, the Authorised Version, Amyot's Plutarch or Schlegel's Shakespeare among others). With time, Berman continues, these 'great translations' come to belong to the literary canon of the TL and thereby enjoy the same 'eternal' status as the original work. All other translations, the vast majority, fall into the category of texts that do not stand up to the passing of the years. However widely-held, this point of view sheds no light on the issue: it does not explain why originals should live on, while translations fade. It simply takes this 'fact' for granted.

We can perhaps move closer to an answer by following André Topia's line of thought. He highlights the 'double standard' that would appear to be applied to the original and its translation: taking Joyce's Ulysses as example, he points out that while it is true that the language used in a translation of this text may well date, so too does Joyce's idiosyncratic use of 1920s language in the original. The difference, he claims, lies in the fact that an original work cannot be located along a simple diachronic line but rather resides within a whole web of informing factors:
"Elle est prise dans un réseau qui est tout autant synchronique que diachronique et se nourrit de ce feedback permanent" (1990:45)
[It is caught up in a network that is both synchronic and diachronic and profits from this constant feedback.]
Translations do not usually find a place within this network (apart from Berman's 'grandes traductions') and therefore do not benefit from the forces at play. Topia draws on Eliot's notion of 'order' and his views on the relationship between past and present - an ante litteram version of intertexuality - to come to the following conclusion:

"c'est l'œuvre qui change et la traduction qui ne change pas .... L'"ordre", cette configuration formée par la mémoire accumulée des œuvres du passé, n'est pas une masse figée mais au contraire est perpétuellement en état de ré-ajustement, de ré-ordonnancement. Chaque fois qu'une œuvre nouvelle est insérée dans la configuration, cette dernière se trouve modifiée rétrospectivement dans son ensemble. L'addition de l'œuvre nouvelle n'est pas simplement une augmentation mécanique, mais elle est une modification en profondeur qui transforme tout l'ensemble, même si c'est de manière à peine visible, même si les effets n'en sont perceptibles que longtemps après l'apparition de l'œuvre nouvelle. L'économie de l'ensemble se réordonne ainsi de façon permanente, un peu comme les couches géologiques sans cesse déplacées et réajustées par des secousses sismiques, si minimes soient-elles. On en arrive ainsi au grand paradoxe eliotien du passé modifié par le présent: 'The past is altered by the present as much as the present is directed by the past'."

[It is the work that changes and the translation that remains the same ... 'Order', a configuration made up of the accumulated memories of the works of the past, is not a set entity but rather in constant flux, readjustment. Every time a new work enters this configuration, the whole is modified retrospectively. The insertion of a new work is not a mere mechanic addition: it creates a profound change to the whole, however slight our perception of this change may be and however much time passes after its entry before such a change becomes apparent. In this way, the economy of the whole is in constant readjustment, much in the same way as geological layers are permanently moved and readjusted by seismic movements, slight as they may be. And so we come to Eliot's paradox, whereby the past is modified by the present: 'The past is altered by the present as much as the present is directed by the past'.]
The situation hence is complex and, as I hope to illustrate, there is a number of forces influencing the production of retranslations. As we have seen, therefore, perhaps the most commonly cited reason for retranslating texts is the need to update the language, to bring the text to a contemporary readership. Venuti polemically quotes the Spanish and Portuguese translator Gregory Rabassa:
"The fact is that there is a kind of continental drift that slowly works on languages as words wander away from their original spot in the lexicon and suffer the accretion of subtle new nuances, which ... result from distortions brought about by time and the events that people it. The choice made by an earlier translator, then, no longer obtains and we must choose again. Through some instinct wrought of genius, the author's original choices of word and idiom seem to endure." (1992: 3)
Translation is here presented as derivative, a pale copy of the ST, needing the occasional fresh coat of paint to try and match the subtle tones of the original.

But not only does language change: so too do 'trends' in the world of translation practice, altering with time, along with our cultural expectations, and calling for periodical reworkings. One such example is the debate that rages as to whether a translation should seek to render the 'archaism' of the original through the use of vocabulary, syntax, topical references, etc. or whether the translator should bring the original into modern times. In his translator's epilogue, Walter Shewring comments on the various traditions that have influenced the numerous English translations of Homer. Here is a short extract that can help illustrate the fickle 'fashions' of translation:

"... we have the contrast of Butcher and Lang, archaisers, and Samuel Butler and his descendants, modernisers. Homer looked backward to generations of earlier bards, Butcher and Lang to the Bible of 1611 [...] . To most modern readers such a procedure is distasteful. In the last half century so many things have changed so much that we need to restore these authors to their settings.

They were not eccentric. They wrote at a time when to many Englishmen the prose of 1611 was a second language, familiar through weekly hearing in church, sometimes through daily reading at home, and imitated by Nonconformists in frequent extemporary prayers. Moreover it was widely accepted that all serious ancient poetry should be rendered in some kind of backward-looking English, verse or prose. This convention lasted till well within our century. Schoolboys as late as in the thirties were praised for using thou in their versions. All these things appear very distant now. The great and continued influence of a new school of poets, notably Ezra Pound and Eliot, has led many to take the view that poetry ought to keep the words and word-order of common speech (with no archaisms, no inversions) and rely for its effect on freshness of imagery and rhythm, on the sequence and concentration of thought." (1990: 310)

As with divergence over archaism or modernisation, so a similar debate has evolved between supporters of either domestication or foreignisation of translations. Although somewhat reductive, a clear illustration of this would be the way in which proper names have been dealt with over the years. Taking the Italian translations of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice as an example, we can observe how there was a marked tendency in the past to translate characters' names into Italian for the foreign reader. And so, while Lizzie becomes 'la Bettina', conjuring up images of Venetian peasants, Sir William and Lady Lucas take on the somewhat unlikely identity of 'Don Guglielmo e Donna Lucas'. A similar fate befalls Lady Catherine de Bourgh who now becomes 'Donna Caterina'. These translations belong to the 1932 version, published by Mondadori and still widely read today. It was accepted practice at the time to translate names and titles, this tradition being compounded during the 1930s in Italy by the stringent linguistic policy imposed by the Fascist régime. The 'correct' use of the Italian language was equated with notions of nationalism, whereby spoken and written Italian needed to be 'purged' of 'barbaric' foreign influences. Foreign words and expressions in all spheres of life (press, cinema, packaging, shop signs, etc.) where first taxed and later forbidden by law. The 'Lei' form of address was outlawed in favour of the use of 'Voi'. Official commissions were formed to draw up lists of offending words which were then published in the national press with the general public being invited to offer suggestions as to suitable Italian alternatives.
[...], per identificare la norma linguistica si cerca di individuare principalmente quali siano gli elementi "disburbatori", per poi eliminarli dalla lingua italiana, basandosi da un lato sul principio dell'"autarchia linguistica", dall'altro sull'equazione lingua = nazione (Klein 1986: 122)

[[...], in drawing up the linguistic policy, the 'disturbing' elements were first identified and then eliminated from the Italian language, following a principle of 'linguistic autocracy' on the one hand, and the equation whereby language = nation on the other.]

Publishers needed therefore to be highly conscious of all these rules and consequently, the translations of the period bear witness to this policy of eradicating as many non-Italian references from foreign texts as possible (although we are talking about almost fifteen years, from the introduction of legislation until the end of the régime, the influence of this policy was felt for some time after the fall of Fascism). There exists a 1930s adaptation of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland in Italian, where not only do the characters have translated names but even the author finds himself under a new guise: he has become 'Luisa M. Carroll' - an Italianised version of Louisa M. Alcott, presumably due to some illusion that children's books of this kind were best written by women, and Italian ones at that! Returning to our example of Pride and Prejudice, if we look at later translations of the same text, and there are several, the situation has undergone a significant change. Not only do the characters reacquire their original denomination but their titles are also left in English (e.g. Mrs Bennett, Sir William e Lady Lucas, etc.) The English names help locate the novel in its original setting and, thanks to relentless exposure to English-speaking culture, any translator working from English into Italian today can reasonably expect their readers to understand the difference between, say, 'Miss' and 'Mrs', and the social connotations of 'Sir' and 'Lady'. Such elements within a text are modified with the passage of time and contemporary cultural conventions, often becoming tell-tale signs of the translation's origins. Using Lecercle's term 'remainder' to describe these elements and their position within the hierarchy of any given language or culture ('Any language use is ... the site of power relationships because a language, at any historical moment, is a specific conjuncture of a major form holding sway over minor variables' (Venuti 1998: 10)), Venuti points out:
The temporal aspect of the remainder is perhaps most dramatically revealed when several translations of a single foreign text are juxtaposed. Multiple versions bring to light the different translation effects possible at different cultural moments, allowing these effects to be studied as forms of reception affiliated with different cultural constituencies (1998: 99).

No single motivation for retranslation can be viewed as isolated and clear-cut however. The Pride and Prejudice example is a case in point. While set against the general 'domestication / foreignisation' debate, there are also more specific historical and ideological elements at play, as illustrated by the constraints imposed by Fascist linguistic policy. The desire to present particular ideological views, in fact, is often apparent in (re)translation and frequently motivates later versions of the same original. Zohar Shavit, in 'Poetics of Children's Literature' provides an enlightening example, drawn from children's literature. It is that of Joachim Campe's translation of Robinson Crusoe from English into German, where it became 'Robinson der Jüngere' (1779-80) and led to a number of other translations in various languages, including English.

"Campe's motivations for translating Robinson Crusoe were primarily aimed at adapting it to Rousseau's pedagogical system [...]. Campe decided to translate Robinson Crusoe, because Rousseau himself suggested that it be the only book given to a child due to its portrayal of the individual's struggle with nature. When the book was examined with Rousseau's views in mind, however, it became clear to Campe that it demanded a thorough change - Defoe's views on the bourgeois ethos and colonialist values contradicted those of Rousseau. Thus, in the original text, Robinson Crusoe arrives at the island with all the symbols of Western culture (weapons, food, the Bible) and manages to cultivate nature. In Campe's translation, however, he reaches the island naked and possessionless (he even has to spark the fire by rubbing stones). Robinson has to learn to live within nature without building a quasi-European culture. Rather, he builds an anti-European culture and suggests it as an alternative to the European." (1986:127)
Although we could obviously open a debate as to whether such a text should be classed as translation in the first place, rather than adaptation, the fact remains that this was indeed the category under which similar works were produced and read. There is, of course, a wealth of similar examples of ideologically motivated retranslations, and perhaps the most famous and fiercely-debated of these are the numerous retranslations of the Bible. It is well beyond the scope of this paper to enter into the vast field of Bible translation but a brief passage from Stephen Prickett's introduction to the World's Classic Bible can serve as some indication of the ideological implications at stake in such an enterprise:
"The English Authorized Version was, in turn, a political as well as a religious undertaking in which the Protestant appropriation and alteration of the Catholic Vulgate paralleled the earlier Christian appropriation and alteration of the Jewish scriptures." (Prickett: 1997: xxiii)
It is important to point out, however, that although the ideological, political, or historical viewpoint may vary from one translation to another, it does not automatically follow that this new interpretation is the reason for which the retranslation was originally commissioned. Although on the whole it is difficult to know with any certainty why certain texts are retranslated while others simply appear in republication, there is strong evidence for believing that the phenomenon is heavily influenced by market forces. I intend to use the contemporary situation within the Italian publishing industry as a case in point to illustrate the weight of economic pressure on the policies of the various companies. Although this is obviously a specific context, informed by specific factors, it would however be fair to state that the present Italian situation is not wholly atypical of the state of affairs in many other countries.

In numerous cases today, and I would argue that they represent the majority, the impetus behind retranslation would appear to be almost entirely commercial. If we look at the history of Italian publishing over the twentieth century, for example, a clear pattern emerges. Following the Unification of Italy in 1860 and the adoption of Italian as the single national language (as opposed to a high number of extremely diverse regional dialects), several significant events have contributed to the nature of the present-day publishing industry: two World Wars that helped forge a national identity and therefore identification in the national language, general access to basic education and therefore literacy, the gradual diffusion of the press, cinema, radio and television, all in Italian, and perhaps most importantly the economic boom of the 1950s. In 1901, for example, almost half the population of Italy (48.5%) was still totally illiterate (Ortoleva 1995:58). There was, therefore, a reduced readership to cater for. In fact, it wasn't until 1949 that the first series of paperbacks was published by Rizzoli. Even then it concentrated only on the classics and Italy had to wait until 1965 before Mondadori produced its Oscar series, an Italian equivalent of Penguin (set up in the UK in 1935) or the French Livres de Poche (1953), truly making books available to the masses.

Although there is still a large number of publishing companies in Italy, mostly catering for specific interest areas, it is however true to say that at present the majority of books sold in Italy comes from a relatively small number of publishing companies, owned by large industrial groups (e.g.: Fininvest, RCS Media Group) based in the major cities of the north. Figures for 1981 indicate, for example, how 74 publishing companies, representing only 5% of the total number of Italian publishers, were responsible for 54.4% of that year's total production (Ferretti: 311). Since these companies are all competing for a relatively restricted number of readers (figures referring to 1991-92 reveal that 50-55% of Italian adults did not buy one single book all year (Ferretti: 324)), their policy would appear to be that of including in their catalogues as many books as possible that will more or less guarantee high sales: these obviously include the traditional 'best-sellers' as well as a high percentage of 'instant books' on topical issues, usually related to politics and current affairs, which sell well on publication but then have a limited shelf-life. Both these categories involve a relative amount of risk as the publishers cannot be certain of the public's reaction until the books have actually been produced and therefore until the investment has actually been made. A third lower-risk category, however, is that of the classics, where the publisher is sure of the market interest a priori. As far as the literary canon is concerned, this means including all the major classics from mainstream traditions. Thus, in the case of canonical English literature, each company wants the likes of Defoe, Austen, Dickens and D.H. Lawrence in their catalogue: while the original works are usually no longer bound by copyright, the publishing companies are not free to reproduce existing translations. Italian law assimilates the translator's rights to those of the author, whereby authors hold the copyright to their work for the whole of their lifetime, and on their death the rights pass to their inheritors for the following 70 years, after which free publication is then permitted (until relatively recently this limit was set at 50 years following the author's death). In effect, translators usually sell the rights for their version to a specific publishing company for twenty years, after which they regain possession unless a further contract is then stipulated. After this, the same rules apply as those described above for the author. In practice, this means that if a publisher has, for example, Great Expectations in their catalogue, and therefore owns the copyright to a specific translation, any other company wanting to offer the same text to their readership will have to commission a new translation (unless, of course, the first translator has been dead for more than seventy years and her/his translation has returned to the public domain). If we analyse the number of Italian versions of English literary classics since the 1950s, this would certainly appear to be the principal motivation for the retranslation of such texts: on the whole, the translations do not differ significantly, and on inspection certainly do not appear to indicate any move to update the language of an earlier version (different translations often appearing within only a handful of years of each other) or the desire to present some new interpretation or ideologically-bound reading of the text. How else can we explain the 50 or so Italian versions of Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland that have appeared over the last 130 years since the first translation in 1872 by Pietrocolà-Rossetti? Although this particular example is an extreme one, the point still holds for many works written relatively recently (late 18th - early 19th century): there are often around ten different translations of works such as Conrad's Heart of Darkness, D.H. Lawrence's Sons and Lovers and several of Dickens' novels. All these translations cannot possibly be justified solely by a need to update a language that has not undergone dramatic change over the period in question.

The commercial impetus behind retranslation is apparent in several different ways: there are cases where a new translation is promoted on the front of the book as a specific selling point. Although Italian law establishes that the name of the translator must appear on the cover or title page of any book, this is in fact very rarely the case: the law is respected, on the whole, only when the translator enjoys a 'high-profile', this meaning that they are usually an author 'in their own right', as was the case with Cesare Pavese (who translated Melville's Moby Dick among other texts) and Elio Vittorini (Graham Greene) in the past and as now happens with Umberto Eco (Queneau) or Aldo Busi (Lewis Carroll and Goethe). Once again the translator's name is highlighted, one would imagine, simply as a marketing ploy.

A further example of retranslations springing from the lure of increased sales for the publishing company is the phenomenon whereby new versions appear on the market in correspondence with external events. These may include the production of a film version of the original work, with the translation as 'tie-in merchandise' (this has been the case recently in Italy with translations of the various works of Jane Austen, following the release of a number of films based on her novels): these new translations are often promoted on the cover with phrases such as 'il romanzo dal quale è tratto il nuovo film di XYZ' ('the novel on which XYZ's new film is based') and, as well as the traditional bookshop, are distributed in 'alternative' sales outlets such as newsagents' or video rental chains to reach the widest audience possible.

Another factor that weighs heavily on a publishing company's decision as to whether to commission a new translation of a given text is the text's inclusion on the national school syllabus or among university reading requirements. In Italy, schoolchildren have to provide their own textbooks and thus, once a certain novel is put on the national syllabus, large sales are guaranteed. The same goes for the universities where often, even on foreign language courses, the texts tend to be read in translation rather than in the original language. Higher education in Italy is based on a system of 'università di massa' with a minimal admission selection procedure which entails vast student numbers and consequently a large book-buying constituency. A recent development within the publishing market caters specifically for these needs: an increasing number of parallel texts is being produced, with the original version of the text (mainly drama and poetry, but also a growing number of short novels) on the left-hand page and the Italian translation on the right. These editions are often accompanied by introductions, bibliographies and notes drawn up by reputed Italian scholars of the foreign literary tradition. A clear example of this phenomenon would be Feltrinelli's series of translations of the works of Shakespeare: many of the plays were translated and annotated by Agostino Lombardo, one of Italy's leading Shakespeare scholars, a name known to any Italian student of English literature.

There is also strong evidence that indicates publishing companies commission new translations of foreign texts to coincide with a series of different events. These can range from anniversaries of births or deaths of authors to commemorations of historical dates. A new Italian translation of the Communist Manifesto, mentioned earlier, was produced in 1998 to mark the 150 years since the text was first published, while a new translation of Orwell's Animal Farm was commissioned for the beginning of 2000 to coincide with the fiftieth anniversary of the author's death.

As I hope to have illustrated therefore the driving force behind the production of fresh versions of foreign texts is not necessarily the need to update the language of existing translations, as is however often stated. Examining the evidence of publishers' catalogues, this widely-held belief would appear to be untrue and certainly falls short of explaining the plethora of translations of certain canonical texts published over the last fifty years within the Italian context. As we have seen, a number of factors contributes to the commissioning of a new version, and while these factors may include the modernisation of the language, I would argue that rarely is this now the sole motivation. Severe competition within a limited market implies economic constraints on the publishing policy of large companies and, ultimately, this need to draw the reader's attention to the products of one company rather than towards those of another represents an overwhelming influence on the choice of texts to be translated and retranslated.


68 Search carried out on Newton online catalogue at the Library of the University of Cambridge, August 2007.

69 All translations are my own.

70 Emphasis in original.


Austen, Jane (1992) Orgoglio e pregiudizio translated by Giulio Caprin (1932) Mondadori, Milan.

Austen, Jane (1996) Orgoglio e pregiudizio translated by I Castellini and N. Rosi (1945) Newton Compton, Rome.

Baker, Mona (Ed.) (1998) Routledge Encyclopedia of Translation Studies Routledge, London.

Berman, Antoine (1990) Palimpsestes: Retraduire - n° 4 - Publications de la Sorbonne Nouvelle, Paris.

Delisle, Jean, Hannelore Lee-Jahne and Monique C. Cormier (1999) – Terminologie de la traduction John Benjamins, Amsterdam (Italian translation: 2002, ed. M. Ulrych Terminologia della traduzione – trans. by C. Falbo and M.T. Musacchio – Hoepli, Milan

Ferretti, Gian Carlo (1994) Il mercato delle lettere Il saggiatore, Milan.

Klein, Gabriella (1986) La politica linguistica del fascismo Mulino, Bologna.

Magris, Marella, Maria Teresa Musacchio, Lorenza Rega and Federica Scarpa (eds.) 2003: Manuale di terminologia. Aspetti teorici, metodologici e applicativi John Benjamins, Amsterdam.

Ortoleva, Peppino (1995) Mass media, nascita e industrializzazione Giunti, Florence.

Prickett, Stephen (1997) introduction to The Bible World's Classics, Oxford University Press, Oxford.

Shavit, Zohar (1986) Poetics of Children's Literature The University of Georgia Press, Athens and London.

Shewring, Walter (1990 - 1st ed. 1980) translator's epilogue to Homer The Odyssey World's Classics, Oxford University Press.

Shuttleworth, Mark and Cowie, Moira (1997) Dictionary of Translation Studies St Jerome Publishing, Manchester.

Venuti, Lawrence - ed. (1992) Rethinking Translation: discourse, subjectivity, ideology Routledge, London.

Venuti, Lawrence (1998) The Scandals of Translation: towards an ethics of difference Routledge, London.

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