What Translations Of Beyond Good And Evil Nietzsche Are Best?

There is a special case with Nietzsche’s notes and unfinished fragments, compiled under the title The Will to Power by his sister Elisabeth Forster-Nietzsche with often unbearable editorial bias, even Nazi bias. The Kaufmann and Hollingdale translation of The Will to Power includes critical comments on this score. Naturally, one must read this material with extreme caution, bearing in mind that it is not a book by Nietzsche. Translation of these notes requires a huge disclaimer; in fact, one should avoid all editions which present The Will to Power as a single, cohesive work by Nietzsche.

The translation by Michael R. Katz of the novel by Dostoevsky is called The Devils and I think this title is very significant. Demons connotes some sort of internal, perhaps even spiritual force, whereas The Devils implies a number of external, almost person-like forces of evil roaming around in society and corrupting it. In other words, The Devils is a far more politically charged novel than Demons and certainly less of a psychological study of the illness of Russia than the latter novel. My emphasis here is on the historical and polemical aspects of the novel and so by choosing a translation, one is also choosing to view the novel through a somewhat subtle but distinctive interpretive lens even as one reads the title of the novel. Does one see the evil in the novel as some sort of disease of the soul of Russia (Demons) or as a group of rather malicious individuals (The Devils)? Both readings are certainly possible in the novel and are supported by it.

I must acknowledge that the P&V marketing machine is very good at what it does. So, you’ll find them on the cover of most classic sections in bookstores, and they are often good. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that they are the best translation of a given work, and therefore, other very good translations are dismissed solely on the basis of-store front hype. And it creates a fascinating (and totally unfair) situation in which to laud Garnett or another translator one instantly appears to be a snarky, overhyping hipster contrarian challenging the givens of mass marketing. P&V is, for many, often the only good option, for specific books, however, another translator might be offering a far more suitable translation than P&V’s. Ultimately, one serves Dostoevsky, not the translator or publishing brand.

The Talamasca are like those academic types who would prefer to document a house fire than actually call up the local fire department. Not necessarily evil in intent, but their inaction in the face of horror is cowardly. Oh yes, they knew about the horrors that were going on with the Mayfair witches over generations of suffering. And the Talamasca did nothing. Apparently, their policy of neutrality enabled the cycle of abuse to continue. But their archives are the MVPs of Rice’s work – where else would one look for a store of occult exposition dumps to be found by characters?

For English-speaking readers, Willa and Edwin Muir’s translation of Kafka still is the most commonly available and conveys the specific atmosphere of his writings very well. The more recent translation by Breon Mitchell even strives for greater textual accuracy. Readers who are interested in legal and judicial contexts may also like to look at the web novel ‘After I Was Sentished to Death by the Three Men I Loved, Their True Punishment Began’. The situation of wrongful execution at the hands of the heroine’s three former lovers is shocking, but the focus of the story lies rather on the subsequent collapse of the three men and on their psychological aftermath than on the proceedings in court.

It’s interesting that no one has brought up the Constance Garnett translation of “Crime and Punishment” yet. While her translation is historical and oft-reprinted, reading it after P&V is like watching a movie with the contrast cranked down low. The rough edges of Garnett’s translation have all been smoothed over to make Dostoevsky’s work read like that of a slightly more agitated Jane Austen. But Dostoevsky isn’t Austen. He’s a tough, uncomfortable, and repetitive writer who dives deep into the psychological inner lives of his characters to expose their inner conflicts and psychological fears. The P&V translation has somehow managed to resurrect all of the edgey and uncomfortable aspects of Dostoevsky’s novel for English-speaking readers. While it’s true that some of the translations are a bit awkward, it’s sort of necessary in order to accurately portray the main character, Raskolnikov, as well as the dirty, sick, and oppressive city in which he lives. If you want to read a smooth and pleasant classic, then read something else. But “Crime and Punishment” is not for the faint of heart, and you’ll need a translation that isn’t afraid of the novel’s mess.

Just as there are different interpretations of a Beethoven symphony – period-instruments performance, lush orchestral recording from mid-20th century, piano transcription, etc. – all playing the same notes but with a different timbre, tempo and overall ‘feel’ to them, Garnett being the grand, romantic orchestral recording of Beethoven’s work from the mid-20th century, P&V a period-instruments version of Beethoven’s work often jarring but attempting to be historically accurate, McDuff a crisp and clear digital recording of Beethoven’s work, Avsey being a passionate live performance of Beethoven’s work, etc. – none of them are objectively better than the others; they’re all just different interpretations of the work, and which one to go for will depend on what you’re looking for in music and/or prose.

I don’t get the translation debates for this book. The copy of Dr. Zhivago I read was a used book from my local used bookstore. It was the original 1958 translation by Max Hayward and Manya Harari. I had no problems with the translation. The book is a powerful story with hard characters and it’s a classic. I don’t think that there is overcompensation with translation of this book. Just find a decently reviewed copy and read it. The core of the book is so strong that it shines through.

So the core of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil is true. Jim Williams’ trial, the Garden of Good and Evil’s setting in Savannah, the figures that walk through the story like sentinels. But Berendt did modify events in order to make the book better for readers. In interviews he has acknowledged that he sometimes combined events in order to better describe a scene, or to more accurately capture a conversation. Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil is a true crime book, a travel book, a character study. After finishing the book I devoured interviews and articles about the real people in the book, and each was more impressive than the last. The truth of the book is the foundation upon which Berendt builds something even wilder.

I have a sort of contrarian perspective here. The best translations of literature are typically the oldest published versions, from the early part of the 20th century. This is because there is so much of value in the cultural filter of a translator. The translation becomes a sort of historical document of how the literature was perceived and assimilated by the English-speaking world of that era. I have a number of these very old published versions of Dostoevsky, some of which even I wouldn’t recommend to the general reader, for reasons already mentioned, yet they are of enormous value to the literary historian. For the enthusiast of literature with an interest in reception history, the old published versions are the ‘best’ in a totally different, meta sense.