Kaisa

 Koskinen  and  Outi  Paloposki  (2015)  ’Anxieties  of  influence.  The  voice  of  the  first  translator  in  
retranslation’.  The  Target  27:1.  Special  issue  on  voice  in  translation,  eds.  Alexandra  Assis  Rosa  and  
Cecilia  Alvstad.  25–39.

Anxieties of Influence: The Voice of the First Translator in Retranslation

Kaisa Koskinen, University of Eastern Finland

Outi Paloposki, University of Turku

A defining feature of retranslation is that a previous translation exists, and this earlier text has a
first translator. In this article we argue that the figure of the first translator exerts an influence in
the retranslation process, and all retranslators are forced to develop a stance towards the
predecessor. Taking Harold Bloom’s notion of anxiety of influence in poetry as a starting point,
we look at two cases of retranslation that share the same famous first translator, Pentti Saarikoski,
analysing how and where the voice of this first translation can be heard in the retranslations.
According to Bloom’s taxonomy, there are six modes available to poets. Applying the same
taxonomy to our two retranslators, we find that they have resorted to different modes. What
remains constant is that the figure of the first translator is an unavoidable function of the
retranslation process and needs to be taken into account both by the retranslator and by researchers
studying retranslations.

Keywords: retranslator, first translator, anxiety of influence, Pentti Saarikoski,

dependency/abhängigkeit, translator roles

1. Introduction
Definitions of retranslation are often based on the idea that we are talking about two (or more)
independent texts, only related to each other via the source text.i However, a close reading of
individual examples of first and subsequent translations soon reveals that there are often subtle
links between them. If one wants to use retranslations as windows to their particular time or
context, or if one wants to study the individual styles of translators, other kinds of data may be
more reliable. Some retranslations are indeed passive: they are produced without any direct
contact with or even knowledge of an existing earlier translation (Pym 1998, 82), but it is safer to
assume that unless proven otherwise, retranslations are always in one way or another a response to
an earlier one, that there is a dependency relation between them (Frank 1989, Paloposki and
Koskinen 2010).
What makes retranslating different from other translation is that there exists at least
one previous translation, and a previous translator. The figure of the first translator, either as a
real-life person, as a mental image or a textual construction, is one obvious potential source of
dependency for the second translator and the readers of the second translation alike, and this
influence, or the careful avoidance of any influence, may affect the translation process in a number

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of ways. Theo Hermans once asked: “whose voice comes to us when we read a translated novel?”
(1996, 26). In this article, we modify his question and ask whose voice comes to us when we read
a retranslated novel. More specifically, we analyse two cases of retranslation to see to what extent
one can identify the voice of the first translator in the subsequent retranslation, and where and how
this voice is carried over. As an analytic tool we use the notion of anxiety of influence, introduced
by Harold Bloom in 1973 to describe poets’ relations to their great predecessors but, we argue,
equally apt for discussing retranslators’ and first translators’ complex relationship.
We look at two recent Finnish retranslations of books that were first translated in the
1960s by Pentti Saarikoski, a well-known poet, author and translator: J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher
in the Rye (1951) as Sieppari ruispellossa by Saarikoski in1961, and retranslated by Arto
Schroderus with the same Finnish title in 2004; James Joyce’s Ulysses (1922) first translated as
Odysseus by Saarikoski in 1964 and retranslated as Ulysses by Leevi Lehto in 2012. The first
translator was exceptionally visible and publicly known, but all three translators have discussed
their thoughts and approaches in various paratexts, and we can thus discuss not only the end
products and their reception but also the translators’ own descriptions of the translation process.
Saarikoski in particular has also been widely studied, and there is extensive secondary literature
available.ii

2. The first translator’s role in retranslation

In retranslation the role of the first translation and the first translator is in many ways a sad one.
Publishers often see old translations as raw material to be reworked. In this ‘maintenance’ work,
the first translators may or may not be consulted. For the retranslator (or editor or reviser) the first
translator may be a predecessor to be outsmarted or improved on. Retranslations are typically
commissioned for works that are considered ‘classics,iii and they offer the retranslators an
opportunity to showcase their talent and professional skill. The most obvious point of comparison
of their success is the previous version. This comparative element is clearly visible in most
reviews of retranslations (Koskinen and Paloposki 2003).iv
Reviews tend to follow a pattern: the reviewer uses the previous translation as a
background against which to assess and praise the new translation. Regular figures of speech
include adjectives like “dusty” or “outdated” to describe the old version, whereas the new
translation is often openly welcomed in the title (“finally!”) and praised as more “fluent”,
“accurate”, “faithful” or simply more pleasurable to read than the previous version. In a typical
review, there are also a couple of strategically selected passages that are compared so that the
readers can see for themselves the clumsiness, linguistic awkwardness or other negative features
the old translation is perceived to have.v
Finally, the readers are perhaps the most varied group. For some, the issue of first or
subsequent translations is not a relevant question: a translation is a translation. However, there are
also readers who favour particular translators – aficionados who may prefer the older version
regardless of the discursive praise for the new version. In Internet discussions and literary blogs,

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for example, support for the first translator tends to come from these non-professional readers who
may sometimes have a more balanced view of the co-existence of the several translated versions
than the publishing houses who praise the modernity of the new translation for marketing reasons
or the professional reviewers who may tend to fall back on an existing discursive pattern readily
available for reviews of retranslations.
Retranslation is a polemical act by nature (as in Popovič 1976; cf. however, the
concept of passive retranslations). The process is initiated because there is an understanding that
the existing translation is somehow faulty: too old, too outdated, too free, too domesticated or too
foreignised and so on. The role of the first translator is that of an underdog. Still, some
retranslations are more polemical than others, and some translations invite more criticism (and are
thus more prone to retranslating) than others. There are a number of features which, in the case of
the first translation, may be seen as a direct cause for a new version – assuming that the work itself
is still considered relevant in the target culture. These include indirect first translation (and the
unwanted extra voice of the mediating translator), abridged versions and adaptations. Some time
periods may generate a need for retranslation or revision en masse for example because of non-
established orthography or a radical ideological or poetic shift (see, e.g., Pokorn 2012).
The role of the first translator, and in particular the plight of the one coming after,
can be understood through the notion of anxiety of influence. Harold Bloom (1973/1997) argues
that poets necessarily have an ambiguous relationship to their precursors, and that they need to
find a way of dealing with this relationship. His taxonomy is a psychoanalytic understanding of
the various positions that the poet can assume towards a great predecessor. The six modes of
dealing with poetic influence Bloom has identified are: clinamen, poetic misreading or a
corrective swerve away from what is consider wrong in the predecessor; tessera, completion and
antithesis; kenosis, repetition and discontinuity; daemonization, negation of the past; askesis, self-
purification and separation; and apophrades, the return of the dead predecessor. Influence is thus
not predestined, but to find his own voice the poet must somehow conquer the predecessor. We
argue that in a retranslation process the retranslator similarly needs to assume some stance towards
the first translator.

3. Pentti Saarikoski, the first translator

The two cases investigated here share the same first translator. Pentti Saarikoski (1937–1983),
author, poet and translator, is one of the key figures in the history of literary translation in Finland.
His career as a translator was productive and extensive. It started in 1958 and continued
throughout his life, until his untimely death at the age of 46. During these 25 years, he published
some 70 translations, ranging from classical Greek poetry to contemporary North-American
fiction. As a translator he was highly visible. Some of his translations, among them The Catcher in
the Rye and Ulysses (both Joyce’s and Homer’s), acquired the status of classics; Catcher made
him a celebrity. When he translated Henry Miller in 1962, Saarikoski caused the publishing house
a lawsuit that he turned into a media circus. He lived a very public life, making his four marriages,
political stances, depressions and alcoholism well known (see Tarkka 1996 and 2003).

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 Authorship and translatorship are not easy to disentangle in Saarikoski’s literary
career. He is seen primarily as a poet and a writer, and he had also rigorously prepared himself for
this career from the age of 14. Translating was a way to earn a living. However, he also valued his
translation work highly, and although he is notorious for some hasty and sloppy translations (see
Koskinen 2007a), he invested considerable effort in those he found personally interesting and
culturally important, and the two cases we discuss here clearly belong to this latter category.
Translating and writing continued side by side throughout his career. Furthermore, his own poetry
and translations meet and mingle in his books (there are also some pseudotranslations that are
actually his own poems), and a translation project can often be seen to produce a stylistic renewal
in his own texts – and sometimes, as in the case of Catcher, in the entire literary system (Koskinen
2007a).
Saarikoski is known for his bold and creative translations; he can be defined as a
postmodern, or even cannibalistic translator (Koskinen 2007a, 506). Even today, “Saarikoski
syndrome” means translating in an excessively self-asserting manner. Often, however, Saarikoski
translated in a manner that was more modest than his image, and his translations were often
reviewed as “unsaarikoskiesque” by apparently disappointed reviewers.
In this article, we examine Saarikoski as a first translator, one to be improved on, but
it is good to remember that he was also a retranslator himself, and he played this role with gusto.
His literary and political retranslation of the Gospel of Matthew is discussed in more detail in
Paloposki and Koskinen (2004). He was also a retranslator of classical literature. He first
reworked his own previous translations of Sappho’s poems and other works and then retranslated
the Ulysses of Homer (Odysseia, Otava 1972), regarded as one of his major works. There he
follows his translation vision of always creating a readable and fresh interpretation. In reviews (as
was to be expected), Saarikoski’s translation in rhythmic prose was immediately juxtaposed with
the previous translation in rhyming hexameter by Otto Manninen in 1924. In a style not untypical
for retranslators, Saarikoski himself both appreciated and devalued the first translation:
Manninen’s translation was, according to Saarikoski, indeed clever but totally useless and elitist
(Koskinen 2007a).
This reversal of roles is a good reminder that there is no need to actively defend first
translators when looking at retranslations and their reception. Rather, it is necessary to see these
roles as produced by the process itself. Although translators react to these roles according to their
personalities and positions, fundamentally we are dealing with particular actant roles (Greimas
1983). In the story of retranslation, the first translator is the “bad” guy, who is, however, often
generously regarded as having tried his best but who was unable to produce anything with lasting
value. The retranslator, in turn, is the hero: the modern, well-read, balanced and cultured translator
who “finally” gives the readers the unbiased, faultless, faithful rendering of the original. And so
everyone lives happily ever after until 50 years later when a new translator enters the scene and
the story begins anew. As a case in point, most of Saarikoski’s best-known translations are now
approaching the age of 50. This aging has clearly triggered a desire for retranslations. In the

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Finnish literary system, Saarikoski, once the bold translator and retranslator, has now
metamorphised into an outdated first translator whose work needs improving.

4. Retranslating Saarikoski
4.1 The Catcher in the Rye
4.1.1 The source text
J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the Rye (1951) relates the two-day odyssey, of sorts, of its young
protagonist, Holden Caulfield, as the arrogant and psychologically unbalanced teenager, dismissed
from school, heads for New York. Although the reception was controversial at first (and the book
was banned from many libraries), it has long been considered a modern classic, “an essential
document of American adolescence” (Yardley 2004). It appears regularly on lists of required
reading, and it has become a steady-seller both in the American market and internationally.
The Catcher in the Rye is a first-person narrative, and the predominant voice is that
of Holden’s idiomatic, moderately vulgar and meandering narration of his life and journey,
reported in a flashback from the couch of a Californian shrink. Written in the colloquial style of
the youth of its time, the book was praised by contemporary reviewers for its authentic
representation of the teenage vernacular of an “intelligent, educated, Northeastern, American
adolescent” (Costello 1959/2000, 12). In contrast, many later critics have claimed that it is rather a
phony adult parody of that speech, and outdated as such. This is not too surprising if one takes into
account the time of publication and the role of the adult author in creating the language:

We need to keep in mind that (a) the novel was published in 1951 and (b) its author was trying to
imitate the linguistic habits of the young people of that era. In that sense, Salinger “failed,” in that
any author trying to depict the environment of his/her time will attempt to recreate the language of
that time. And for those who haven’t noticed, those linguistic patterns and styles change. With
kids, they change rapidly. (Simmons 2010, 25)

As opposed to the often repeated myth of never-aging source texts and translations that need to be
written anew for each generation, this source text clearly has its own issues of outdatedness, in
particular in terms of the voice of the protagonist, at least if it is read without a historical
understanding.

4.1.2 The first translation

The book was first translated into Finnish as Sieppari ruispellossa [catcher in rye field] by Pentti
Saarikoski in 1961. Translation work proceeded with difficulty at first, and Saarikoski wrote
essays lamenting the clumsy and parochial nature of Finnish literary language and its lack of urban
vernacular styles (e.g., Saarikoski 1960). He went “fishing for words” at the market place and at
teenagers’ parties to find current colloquial expressions that he could then use to represent
Holden’s style. As a result, the Holden of his translation speaks the Helsinki slang of the late
1950s (or rather, Saarikoski’s literary imitation of it). In other words, the voice of the translated

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Holden was created in a manner rather similar to that used by Salinger, and in that sense the
translation, which has been considered free and creative, was indeed a rather close rendering.
Imitations of contemporary spoken vernacular or slang were not widely used in Finnish literature
at the time, and Saarikoski is generally considered the initiator of this literary device (Tiittula and
Nuolijärvi 2007, 392-393).
The reception of the translation was divided. It was considered “an extremely
entertaining fake” by some, and erroneous and sloppy by others (Koskinen 2007a). Saarikoski
himself was not a young rebel but rather a solemn academic at heart, but this translation idolised
him in the eyes of youth. The book acquired cult status and made Saarikoski a celebrity figure. For
these readers the translation was not a fake. The translation soon became a steady-seller, with 21
reprints. Many generations of Finnish teenagers have read it at school, and Saarikoski’s translation
still has many fans.
However, it was also evident that a translation using a constructed version of the
contemporary slang of youth as its central literary device would soon have to face criticism. For
example, the glossary of Helsinki teenage slang words included in the translation eventually came
to be viewed in a humorous light as some of the expressions became obsolete and others were
incorporated into standard language. In the first decade of the 21st century, criticism against
Saarikoski’s version mounted.

4.1.3 The retranslation

Criticism paved the way for a new translation. It was published in 2004, by the same publisher,
translated by Arto Schroderus, who is an established literary translator. Like the first translation,
the new translation also appeared in the series Keltainen kirjasto (“Yellow library”), the best
known and highly regarded Finnish series for translated contemporary fiction, and thus a clear
signal of esteem (Pulkkinen 2007).
In an essay on this translation project, Schroderus describes his first thoughts:
“When I was asked whether I would be interested in translating J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher in the
Rye, my first thought was not Salinger but Saarikoski. (The third was: I can’t believe this.)”
(Schroderus 2005, 85vi). The essay is aptly titled “Toisen jäljessä” ( “Following the Other”).
Saarikoski looms so large that he is the first thought of not only the retranslator but also of many if
not most readers of the retranslation. In a rather uncustomary manner (and unlike Saarikoski in the
first translation), Schroderus has his own name on the front cover of the retranslation. In spite of
this extra visibility, the emphasis seems to be on the non-presence of the previous translator, as if
there were a need to emphasize that this is the translation not made by Saarikoski.
This polemical positioning was unavoidable, not one chosen by the second
translator. In his essay Schroderus tells us that his editor advised him to approach the task as if it
were any other book. This was sound advice, but not easy to follow for any Finnish translator in
his generation. He read the source text (for the first time, since he had previously only read the
translation, just as so many other Finns) three times and wrote two versions of translation before

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rereading the Saarikoski version to make sure that Saarikoski would not be “lurking behind his
shoulder” (Schroderus 2005: 86).
As is often the case, reception of the retranslation was very favourable. The review
in Helsingin Sanomat (the leading Finnish newspaper) followed the regular pattern of retranslation
reviews, pitting the two versions against one another, and found the retranslation more successful
on many accounts:

Schroderus does not deliberately attempt to avoid slang or vernacular expressions,

but he has a clear tendency to use standard written language more than Saarikoski
does, and this is nicely in sync [synkkaa] with Salinger’s original, because the
language of the author is syntactically quite correct.vii

To take the reader to the snobbish, cynical and fluid world of Holden Caulfield, Arto
Schroderus uses far fewer devices than Pentti Saarikoski does. His translation is thus
easier to read and – surprise, surprise – it rolls [rullaa] rhythmically better than
Saarikoski’s translation.

On the other hand, if you want to read Sieppari as a generational novel, Saarikoski’s
translation gives you the authentic 1950s clang [klangi], sometimes regardless of the
original. – Saarikoski’s translation has an edge to it, because it is all about the battle
between society and the individual. (Petäjä 2004; bold added)

As is evident from the excerpts, the review follows the general logic of retranslation reviews. In it,
the new translation is found to be more readable, more reliable, more controlled, and more
(syntactically) faithful. A fascinating feature is that in spite of all its acclaim for the retranslation,
the review discursively pays tribute to Saarikoski’s version: throughout the text, there are
expressions that lean towards the slang of the 1950s and 1960s (examples in bold above with the
original words in brackets). In spite of the efforts of the retranslator to stay detached from the first
translation, the echo of the first translator’s voice is discernible not only in the heads of the
translator and the readers but even in the review of the retranslation (but so is the voice of the
retranslator: the reviewer also plays with the word ‘falski’, Schroderus’ translation of ‘phony’).
The review summarises the results as follows: “Although the translation is new, the voice you hear
is still that of good old Holden.” Since the only reference to the original was to the syntactic style
of the author, one is led to assume that this “good old Holden” is that of the first translation rather
than that of the original.
In contemporaneous reviews of retranslations a comparison of the two translations is
typical. What is more exceptional is that the ongoing reception of the retranslated Catcher (as
witnessed in numerous readers’ blogs and discussion forums even today, a decade after the
retranslation was published) seems equally obsessed with the figure of Saarikoski. The writers
either want to dethrone him or they express their continued preference for his version. Even

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though the new translation is neither a polemical one nor a version very close to Saarikoski, the
figure of Saarikoski seems to be an unavoidable part of the reading experience. We all seem to
react in a manner similar to Schroderus: our first thought is Saarikoski. This is an interesting
associative process; in the minds of most contemporary readers Sieppari is so closely connected to
‘Saarikoski’ that it functions as a priming effect. The affect brought about by this priming, on the
other hand, is unpredictable: for some it is extremely negative, for others extremely positive, and
for yet others rather neutral.
The two translations occupy different positions in the literary system. Saarikoski’s
translation became (in)famous both because of its own qualities and because of the reputation of
the then fairly recent original. When Schroderus wrote his translation 43 years later, he had a
different source text: a modern classic. It follows that the two translations are also different: one
rebellious and youthful, the other solemn and serious.

4.2 Ulysses
4.2.1 The source text
At the time of its publication (1922), James Joyce’s Ulysses was a ground-breaking work of art
and a forerunner of modernist literature. The events narrated in the book take place on one day, 16
June in 1904, in Dublin, in a detailed description of the odyssey of Leopold Bloom, his wife
Molly, and a young man named Stephen Dedalus. Joyce’s multifarious narrative style, which
combines inner monologues, layered structures, fragmentation, intertextuality, wordplay, allusions
and polyphony, was completely new to the audiences of his time. For years it was considered
impossible to translate.
At first, Joyce’s parodic style and his straightforward or even vulgar descriptions of
bodily functions and sexuality created barriers to its publication, and they later caused the book to
be banned in many countries. Joyce himself was forced to move away from Dublin. He lived first
in Trieste and later in Paris, where the book was originally published. Today, Bloomsday, the 16th
of June, is a day of celebrations not only in Dublin but also among his aficionados elsewhere, and
Ulysses is considered one of the great masterpieces of world literature.

4.2.2 The first translation

After he had completed The Catcher, Saarikoski was asked to translate Ulysses. Because of the
shared stylistic similarities between Saarikoski and Joyce, both in the former’s writing and in his
translations, the reading public and the publisher may have expected controversy, but Saarikoski
adopted a rather traditional translator position. He even wrote to his publisher: “I intend to make
this translation flawless and exemplary, just for the heck of it” (Tarkka 1996, 513). In 1963
Saarikoski travelled to Dublin and worked long hours on the translation, surrounded by secondary
literature, dictionaries and translations of Joyce into other languages (Koskinen 2007b, 461).
The process was surprisingly swift, considering the difficulty and length (almost
1000 pages) of the source text. Odysseus (published, again by Tammi, in 1964) was completed

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between 1962 and 1964 amidst other literary works, political activity, and a chaotic life that
included delirious parties, financial difficulties and a divorce process. The translation was first
started while Saarikoski was hospitalised in a mental institution (all this was also known to
contemporary readers). The result was a playful translation that shifted from one genre and style to
another. In the afterword Saarikoski expressed his very humble thanks to his many supporters and
prepared for criticism, but the reviews were largely favourable. The translation was described as a
“masterpiece”, and the mistakes were considered minor flaws, not serious faults; the translation
was praised for its readability, enjoyability and humorousness, and it was seen to have a “likeness”
to the original (see Koskinen 2007b, 462). Some critics were perhaps slightly disappointed by the
lack of sensation. Douglas Robinson (1987), for example, has described the translation as
unexpectedly tame and routine-like for Saarikoski. Undoubtedly, Odysseus is one of Saarikoski’s
key translations. He was also awarded the Agricola Prize for the best literary translation into
Finnish that year – but he thought the monetary grant was upsettingly small, and he smashed the
prize statue against a wall in his home (Koskinen 2007b, 463).

4.2.3 The retranslation

In his afterword (Joyce 1964, 723), the first translator had anticipated a revised edition:

I am also grateful for all those who will, after publication, offer their critical
views of the faults and shortcomings of my translation. By correcting these we
can make the Finnish Odysseus into what Ulysses undoubtedly is: one of the
most important novels of this century.

Later, in the early 1980s, Tammi considered publishing a revised version, but Saarikoski was no
longer fit enough to take on revision work (Koskinen 2007b). It was not until the turn of the 21st
century, parallel to the mounting criticism on Saarikoski’s Catcher, that a retranslation project of
Ulysses was also announced. The primary actor and initiator was the retranslator-to-be: the poet,
publisher and translator Leevi Lehto, who began to publicise the translation process early on, both
in the traditional press (e.g., Heikura 2007) and on the web, keeping a blog where the gradual
completion of the translation could be followed.
Lehto has carefully avoided openly downplaying Saarikoski’s translation. On the
contrary, he has repeatedly emphasized its readability and enjoyability (e.g., in Puttonen 2012).
Still, he also publicly announced his wish to make his translation even funnier than Saarikoski’s
and to take into account the latest Joyce scholarship. Further, Lehto finds Saarikoski’s translation
lacking in several areas. Saarikoski does not include enough details, and he seems to be following
the original at a distance. He is often unable to detect stylistic shifts or to recognize alliterative
prose. His style is clumsier and, unexpectedly, he fails to recognize allusions to sexuality and
alcohol. Perhaps he had simply grown tired along the way (Lehto in Puttonen 2012).
Ulysses is a complex book, and one can assume that it was not an easy task to write
it. Lehto explains that there is one task that is even harder: its translation (in Kokko 2012, 34). To

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achieve “likeness”, the translator needs to entirely rewrite the text, to create it anew. It took Lehto
ten years, as long as the travels of the original Ulysses, to finish the task of rewriting (preface in
Joyce 2012, 11). The retranslation was published by Gaudeamus on Bloomsday in 2012. Although
critical of Saarikoski’s translation, Lehto has explained that his working method was to proceed
chapter by chapter and always to scan Saarikoski’s translation first on his computer and “then start
to destroy it” (in Heikura 2007). This would seem to imply that alongside numerous radical
departures from the solutions of the first translator, there may be traces of Saarikoski’s voice left
in the retranslation.
Reading the two translations side by side, one can indeed recognise many nearly
identical sections. However, the syntax is often more foreignised in Lehto’s version, and as soon
as one gets the feeling that one is reading Saarikoski via Lehto, there is a radical departure. In
comparison, it seems that those parts of the text that are deemed routinely translatable tend to be
fairly close to Saarikoski’s rendition, but Lehto has several very visible strategies that make his
presence felt in the texts. In addition to intentionally foreignising the syntax (contrasted by some
highly domesticating strategies elsewhere in the text), he uses deliberately old-fashioned words to
match the time of writing of the source text (Puttonen 2012). Lehto has also introduced some
highly original solutions. Among the most controversial ones is his neologism hen to compensate
for the lacking feminine form of the third person singular pronoun in the Finnish language
(preface in Joyce 2012, 8–9).
The most obvious difference between the two versions is to be found in the area of
paratexts, in this case footnotes. Saarikoski did not have any, whereas Lehto adopts a Nabokovian
style and uses thousands of footnotes. These footnotes not only give the volume an erudite
appearance, they also increase the size of the book considerably. Translators have played many
roles in the past, and footnotes often give clues to these roles (Paloposki 2010). One of the tasks a
translator may take on is that of explaining, not only the literary or linguistic traditions and
differences, but also the task of the translator: explicitate, contextualize, or open up the act of
translating. In this way Lehto’s voice is also heard in his footnotes. There are a number of voices
there: the new translation has benefited from nearly a century of scholarship on the novel, and this
research is visible in the footnotes. Most are statements, explanations or translations of foreign-
language quotes. But occasionally Lehto addresses readers directly, urging them to look at a detail,
adding his own voice to those of the Joyce scholars.
It may seem somewhat unexpected that Lehto, who has discussed Saarikoski’s
solutions extensively on several occasions after the publication of his own version, has not used
the paratextual apparatus for a dialogue with Saarikoski’s translation. In the five-and-a-half page
introduction (Lehto 2012), Saarikoski is mentioned only in passing. His voice is most audible in
the retranslation itself: Saarikoski’s translation can be heard as a distant melody in the
background, even though all dramatic decisions are decidedly those of the second translator.
However, a hidden and gracious sign of respect towards Saarikoski can be found in the translation
of Chapter 14. Where Joyce plays with the styles of English literary history, Lehto draws on the

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turning points of Finnish literature – ending with slang, out of tune with the original but paying
homage to Saarikoski’s invention of translated literary slang in his Catcher.
To summarise, the dominant translator voice is that of Leevi Lehto, but in the
background one can still discern the voice of Saarikoski. In his foreword, Lehto describes his
version as a “translation of a translation” (Lehto 2012, 7). He is referring to the intertextual nature
of the source text, but one could also interpret this as a veiled tribute to the first translation.
Ulysses is a polyphonic text: it is only apt that this polyphony now intertwines the voices of its
two Finnish translators.

5. Conclusions
The two classics discussed in this article were both first translated by Pentti Saarikoski, and his
first translations were widely discussed and acclaimed. Even now, twenty years after his death, the
reputation of Saarikoski remains exceptional: few translators are as well-known and liked or
disliked as strongly as he is. He thus provides a good case to analyse first translator influence. One
can summarise the two retranslators’ styles and their attitudes towards the great predecessor by
returning to Bloom’s taxonomy of poetic influence: Leevi Lehto’s retranslation represents tessera
– completion and antithesis – that is based on the idea that the precursor did not go far enough
(Bloom 1973/1997: 49–76). Schroderus’ retranslation has the air of askesis, of self-purgation and
solitude, and a careful cleansing of all influence (115-138).
It is clear that Saarikoski casts a long shadow. It is not surprising, then, that the two
retranslation processes unavoidably also needed to address issues concerning the first translator.
Saarikoski’s enduring presence may be exceptional, but we argue that the anxiety of influence is
rarely if ever entirely absent, and should rather be considered one function of the field of
translation. Retranslations by definition belong to a long tail of rewritings, and they are not free of
the influences caused by that tail.

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References
Primary sources
Heikura, Pasi, ed.. 2007. “Aristoteleen kantapää.” [Radio interview with Leevi Lehto.]
Rebroadcast in YLE Radio 1. 18 January 2012.
Joyce, James. 1964. Odysseus. Transl. by Pentti Saarikoski. Helsinki: Tammi.
------. 2012. Ulysses. Transl. by Leevi Lehto. Helsinki: Gaudeamus.
Kokko, Karri. 2012. “Yhteisyritys. Ulysses on monen tajunnan summa ja luomus.” Parnasso 3:
30–34.
Lehto, Leevi. 2012. “Suomentajan sana.” In Joyce 2012. 1–12.
Petäjä, Jukka. 2004. “Holden Caulfieldin toinen tuleminen.” Book review, Helsingin Sanomat
11.8.2004.
Puttonen, Seppo. 2012. “Kirjakerho.” [Radio interview with Leevi Lehto and Hilkka Pekkanen,
PhD]. YLE Radio 1, 2 July 2012.
Saarikoski, Pentti. 1960. “Suomen kieli ja kirjallisuus I.” Parnasso 10 (5): 225–226.
Salinger, J. D. 1961. Sieppari ruispellossa. Transl. by Pentti Saarikoski. Helsinki: Tammi.
------. 2004. Sieppari ruispellossa. Transl. by Arto Schroderus. Helsinki: Tammi.
Schroderus, Arto. 2005. “Toisen jäljessä – merkintöjä suomentamisesta.” In Suom.huom.
Kirjoituksia kääntämisestä, ed. by Kristiina Rikman, 83-96. Helsinki: WSOY.

Other references

Bloom, Harold. 1973/1997. The Anxiety of Influence. A Theory of Poetry. Oxford: Oxford UP.
Costello, Donald P. 1959/2000. “Language in Catcher in the Rye.” In J.D. Salinger’s The Catcher
in the Rye. Modern Critical Interpretations, ed. by Harold Bloom, 11-20. New York: Chelsea
House.
Frank, Armin Paul. 1989. “Einleitung: Methodische Hinweise.” In Die literarische Übersetzung.
Der lange Schatten kurzer Geschichten. Amerikanische Kurzprosa in deutschen Übersetzungen.
Berlin: Erich Schmidt Verlag. 195–199.
Greimas, A.-J. 1983. Structural Semantics: An Attempt at a Method. Transl. by Daniele
McDowell. Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.
Hermans, Theo. 1996. “The Translator’s Voice in Translated Narrative.” Target 8 (1), 23–48.
Koskinen, Kaisa. 2007a. “Pentti Saarikoski.” In Suomennoskirjallisuuden historia II, ed. by H. K.
Riikonen, Urpo Kovala, Pekka Kujamäki and Outi Paloposki, 503–506. Helsinki: SKS.
------. 2007b. “James Joycen Odysseus suomeksi.” In Suomennoskirjallisuuden historia I, ed. by
H. K. Riikonen, Urpo Kovala, Pekka Kujamäki and Outi Paloposki, 461-463. Helsinki: SKS.
Koskinen, Kaisa and Outi Paloposki. 2003. “Retranslations in the Age of Digital Reproduction”.
Cadernos 2003 (1): 19–38.
------. 2010. ”Retranslation”. Handbook of Translation Studies Vol. 1. Amsterdam/Philadelphia:
John Benjamins.

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Paloposki, Outi. 2010. “The Translator’s Footprints.” In Translators’ Agency. Tampere Studies in
Language, Translation and Culture. Series B4, ed by Tuija Kinnunen and Kaisa Koskinen, 86–
107. Tampere: Tampere University Press. http://tampub.uta.fi/tup/978-951-44-8082-9.pdf
Paloposki, Outi and Kaisa Koskinen. 2004. “Thousand and One Translations. Retranslation
Revisited”. In Claims, Changes and Challenges, ed by Gyde Hansen, Kirsten Malmkjaer and
Daniel Gile, 27–38. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins.
------. 2010. “Reprocessing Texts. The Fine Line between Retranslating and Revising.” Across
Languages and Cultures 11 (1): 29–49.
Pokorn, Nike K. 2012. Post-Socialist Translation Practices: Ideological Struggle in Children's
Literature. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins.
Popovič, Anton. 1976. Dictionary for the Analysis of Literary Translation. Edmonton: University
of Alberta.
Pulkkinen, J. P. 2007. Keltainen kirjasto. In Suomennoskirjallisuuden historia I, ed. by H. K.
Riikonen, Urpo Kovala, Pekka Kujamäki and Outi Paloposki, 314–317. Helsinki: SKS.
Pym, Anthony. 1998. Method in Translation History. Manchester: St. Jerome.
Robinson, Douglas. 1987. “Koskenko yli saareen? Pentti Saarikoski käännösteoreetikkona.” In
Kääntäjät kulttuurivaikuttajina: kääntäjäseminaari Jyväskylässä 3.-5.7.1986, ed. by Arja
Ollikainen and Martti Pulakka, Jyväskylän yliopiston kirjallisuuden laitos, Jyväskylä.
Simmons, John S. 2010. “Holden Caulfield – Alive and Well.” The ALAN Review, Winter 2010:
25–30.
Tarkka, Pekka. 1996. Pentti Saarikoski. Vuodet 1937–1963. Helsinki: Otava.
------. 2003. Pentti Saarikoski. Vuodet 1964–1983. Helsinki: Otava.
Tiittula, Liisa and Pirkko Nuolijärvi. 2007. “Puhuttu kieli kaunokirjallisuuden suomennoksissa.”
In Suomennoskirjallisuuden historia II, ed. by H. K. Riikonen, Urpo Kovala, Pekka Kujamäki and
Outi Paloposki, 387–400. Helsinki: SKS.
Yardley, Jonathan. 2004. “J.D: Salinger’s Holden Caulfield, Aging Gracelessly.” Washington
Post, 19.10.2004, C01.

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i  For an overview of retranslation research, see Koskinen and Paloposki

2010.
ii
These – mostly Finnish – secondary materials have largely been

incorporated into two earlier articles on Saarikoski, and will not all be listed

separately here. Instead, we mainly refer to Koskinen 2007a and b.

iii
Classics and retranslations have a complex circular interdependency:

classics are considered worthy of reinterpretation and are thus often

retranslated, but retranslation is also considered a signal of the work’s status

as a classic, and the act of retranslation can be considered to raise it into the

class of classics.
iv
Retranslations often attract visibility in media, and this visibility is almost

without exception very favorable towards the new translation (Koskinen &

Paloposki 2003).
v
Unfortunately, it is not rare to see similar simplified juxtapositions in

research.
vi
Translations from Finnish KK.
vii
Others might disagree with this view. For a discussion of Holden’s

“careless” grammar, see, e.g. Costello 1959/2000: 188.

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