BMCR 2009.05.53: Franz on Kaimowitz, The Odes of Horace

Jeffrey H. Kaimowitz (trans.), The Odes of Horace.  Baltimore:  Johns
Hopkins University Press, 2008.  Pp. xxxi, 173.  ISBN 9780801889967.
$25.00 (pb).

Reviewed by Paul Franz ([email protected])
Word count:  1442 words
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In his preface, Jeffrey Kaimowitz (hereafter K.) outlines his two main
goals: (1) to produce translations "in verse schemes reminiscent of
Horace's meters but firmly based on English prosody," and (2) to
produce translations "intended as poems in their own right." (vii)
Between these two goals, there is an evident potential for conflict.
When K. states his preference for "clarity and comprehension" over
strict literalism (e.g. in the rendering of unfamiliar proper names) so
long as this can be effected "without sacrificing the overall meaning
and movement of the poem," (vii) he suggests that "movement" is
preeminent. Unfortunately, as we will see, K.'s excessive
identification of "movement" with meter (narrowly conceived), combined
with his inadequate command of English prosody, means that neither goal
is completely achieved.

Part of the problem stems from K.'s understanding of Latin and English
prosody, which his "Translator's Note" treats in terms of the familiar
contrast between quantitative and accentual-syllabic metrical systems.
Although useful for the beginning student, this shorthand overlooks the
many other factors, beyond basic metrics, that influence the prosodic
texture of actual poems in Latin and English. Just as the interplay of
coincident and conflicting word-accent and ictus arguably deepens this
texture in Latin, syllabic length has always played a role in the
composition of English poetic lines, albeit more at the level of rhythm
than of meter. That is to say, syllabic length -- along with such other
factors as syntactic timing, semantic emphasis, and the gradations of
lexical stress -- affects the way in which the rhythm of a poetic line
interacts with its idealized metrical structure.[[1]]

None of these issues is addressed in K.'s "Translator's Note." In fact,
beyond a discussion of Horatian word-order -- which K. rightly calls
"one of the most characteristic and most untranslatable features" of
Horace's poetry (x) -- there is essentially no mention of how a poem's
mode of unfolding might sustain, heighten, or qualify its overt
meaning. Although K. praises his author's "virtuosity with metrics"
(xi), this is mainly in the context of Horace's skill at imitating his
predecessors in the Greek lyric tradition. While it is important for K.
to point out this indebtedness, it is unlikely that the general reader
approaching Horace in translation will find this an appreciable
dimension of his poetry. As an example of a more useful approach to
this issue, K. might have explained why a given theme led Horace to
choose a certain meter, or vice-versa. As it stands, K. leaves his
readers with the impression that meter is an independent and separable
poetic element, a marker of virtuosity tout court.

This impression is reinforced by the comparative chart K. provides on
p. xii of his "Translator's Note," aligning the metrical schemata of
Horace's originals with their "reminiscences" of his own devising. What
is striking about these reminiscences is less what they reproduce than
what they leave out: caesura and anceps. When Horace is captured by the
lyric meters of captive Greece, these interruptions and variations in
each fixed pattern preserve a measure of freedom. (That is to say, they
make allowance for the inventiveness and syntactic mastery that are his
genuine freedom.) In contrast, K. begins his work with his wings
already clipped. Of all his reminiscences, K.'s Sapphic strophe seems
to cause him the greatest difficulty. This is in part because of its
persistent trochaic line-endings. All too often, K.'s solution to this
problem is to pad the ends of his lines with prepositions, articles,
and other typically unstressed monosyllables, resulting in passages
like the following (the third and fourth strophes of Ode II.8):


Helpful is the lie that's pledged upon your
mother's buried ashes and on all the
silent stars and sky at night and on the
gods who are deathless.


Venus herself, I say, laughs at this, the
guileless nymphs and cruel Cupid who is
always sharpening burning arrows on his
blood-spattered whetstone.

There are times when this sort of extreme forward movement can be
effective; for example, in K.'s version of Ode I.37 (the third line of
his Alcaic strophe also ends in a trochee), similar techniques convey
aptly the poem's excitement and agitation. That said, the book as a
whole gives the impression that this is less a deliberate artistic
choice than a convenient shortcut. In the entire volume, I count 99
lines ending with the word "the," plus an additional 26 lines ending in
"a" or "an" (22 and 4 respectively) -- an astonishingly high number for
such a marked feature. If one were further to factor in all copulas,
conjunctions, prepositions, and attributive personal pronouns in
line-final position, this tally would be significantly higher. It makes
little difference if, as K. insists, "the four-line stanza, not the
individual line within each stanza, is regarded as the metrical unit"
(xii); the regular repetition of these elements cannot escape monotony.

At the very least, such repetition indicates a lack of formal control,
which leads to problems (so to speak) all down the line. Just try
scanning the first line of that fourth strophe from Ode II.8 -- "Venus
herself, I say, laughs at this, the" -- as K.'s chart prescribes, with
a strong stress on the first syllable of "herself" and on "I" instead
of "say." Here, as so often elsewhere, the moment the reader adopts a
more natural speaking style, the intricate "reminiscence" evaporates.
At such moments, a deeper reminiscence -- the voice of the original --
sometimes speaks out with sudden clarity. For K. is generally at his
best when his meter is most unobtrusive. Longer lines, in particular,
give him room for greater nuance; notable in this regard are I.4, I.11,
and III.30, whose First Asclepiad System is rendered as an iambic
pentameter, no more, no less. Iambic pentameter also regularly appears
in the first two lines of K.'s Alcaic strophe; K. employs this strophe
with greatest success in I.9.

And yet, formal constraints are not wholly to blame for the volume's
many infelicities of tone, pacing, phrasing, and word-choice. Take, for
example, K.'s rendering of Ode III.1's "destrictus ensis cui super
impia / cervice pendet" as "For whom the unsheathed saber dangles by /
his wicked neck." Here, K.'s poorly chosen "saber" and mistranslation
of "super" as "by" conspire to obscure Horace's highly visual evocation
of the sword of Damocles. At other times, fussy or archaic word-choices
seem inconsistent with the "modern but dignified tone" K. claims to
seek (x), such as when we learn how Prometheus "purloined" fire from
heaven in I.3, how a fleeing deer grows "heedless of herbage" in I.15,
or when, in III.4, the opening strophe's contrast between singing and
the lyre is introduced through the antiquated disjunctive "or ... or"
construction, where in contemporary English we would say "whether ...
or."  Similar missteps can seriously distort Horace's tone. Consider
K.'s rendering of the final lines of Ode I.1 as "But if you include me
with the lyric / bards, with head held high I'll touch the stars."
Translating "feriam" as "I'll touch" instead of, say, "I'll strike," is
not only lexically inaccurate (Lewis and Short's unconvincing gloss of
this passage notwithstanding); it also significantly mutes the
original's audacious confidence.

More consistently successful are K.'s detailed explanatory notes, which
are generally clear and helpful. High praise is also due to Ronnie
Ancona's introduction. Taking as her starting point the idea that
"Horace's life and work were deeply influenced by the times in which he
lived," (xviii) Ancona deftly synthesizes the known facts of Horace's
life and career into an overall narrative from which even experienced
readers of Horace may benefit. Her discussion of Horace's artistry in
light of his subsequent reception is equally assured. Unfortunately,
these aids for the student are not sufficient to recommend this book.

Even K.'s most successful versions cannot match the vigor and lucidity
of the poetic renderings by David Ferry, to my mind the best
contemporary translation of the complete Odes (plus the  Carmen
Saeculare, which K. omits). Because K.'s translation (again, unlike
Ferry's) leaves out the Latin text, it seems aimed at readers whose
knowledge of Latin is either minimal or nonexistent. One important role
played by such a translation is to inspire younger readers to study the
original's language. I do not envision K.'s work providing this
inspiration. Here is a significant missed opportunity. While Ferry's
accessible translations convey the excitement of Horace to a
considerable degree, they are also very free-wheeling, sometimes adding
and omitting material at will. It might have been useful to see his
popular version supplemented by one of greater fidelity, yet
approaching the same poetic power. K.'s translation does not measure
up.

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Notes:


1.   A good introduction to modern comparative prosody may be found in
a series of articles by T. V. F. Brogan (especially "Prosody," "Meter,"
and "Rhythm") in The New Princeton Encyclopedia of Poetry and Poetics,
Preminger, Alex; Brogan, T. V. F. (co-eds); Warnke, Frank J.; Hardison
Jr, O. B.; Miner, Earl (assoc. eds). Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton
University Press, 1993. For a recent treatment of the contrast between
meter and rhythm in English, drawing on examples of poems written in
both "closed" and "open" forms, see Ellen Bryant Voigt, "On and Off the
Grid: Syntax, Part II," The Kenyon Review, Volume XXVI, Number 3,
Summer 2004, pp. 139-159.