220 When habit Jails
to language, always looking to fill in gaps in their lists, or to add to already overflowing
lists, knowing that some day they might need every word they have ever stored.
These mental lists, sometimes methodically stored in personal or corporate
databases for rapid and reliable access, constitute one essential inductive process of
accumulating semantic experiences that translators use when habit fails — when the
autopilot shuts down and they must go to "manual." But there are many others as
well: mental lists of ethical principles ("Should I correct this?" "Should I notify the
agency about this?"), good business practices ("I can't finish this by the deadline,
what should I do?" "I really need to charge extra for this, but how much, and how
do I present it?"), moral beliefs ("Do I really want to do a translation for an arms
manufacturer, a tobacco company, a neo-Nazi group?"), and so on. In each case, the
problem translators face is too complicated to deal with by rote, subliminally,
uncritically; so they shift into a conscious analytical mode and begin sifting back
through the inductive layers of their experience, exploring patterns, comparing and
contrasting, articulating to themselves — in some cases for the first time — the
principles that seem to emerge from the regularities.
Picking the rendition that feels right (abduction)
And at last, of course, they have to make a decision. Language is an infinitely
fascinating subject for translators, and many of them could go on worrying a problem
area for days, weeks — perhaps even forever. Fortunately or unfortunately, clients and
agencies are rarely willing to wait that long, and at some point translators must put
a stop to the analytical process and say "that's good enough" (see Pym 1993: 113—16).
Just when that point is, when translators will feel comfortable enough with a
solution to move on, is impossible to predict — even for the translators themselves.
The feeling of being satisfied with a solution, and of knowing that you are satisfied
enough to move on, is rarely subject to rational analysis. It comes abductively, as an
intuitive leap; the swirl of certainties and uncertainties, the mixture of conviction
("this seems like a good word, maybe even the right word") and doubt ("but I know
there's a better one"), eventually filter out into a sudden moment of clarity in which
a decision is made. Not necessarily a perfect or ultimate decision; the translator
may have to go back and change it later. But a decision nonetheless. A decision to
move on.
And in the end it does come down to this: with all the professional expertise
and craftsmanship in the world, with decades of experience and a fine, even
perfectionist, attention to detail, every translator does finally translate by the seat
of his or her pants, picking the rendition that feels right. This may not be the ultimate
arbiter in the translation process as a whole — the translator's work will almost
certainly be edited by others — but it is the ultimate arbiter for the translator as a
trained professional, working alone. The translator's "feeling" of "rightness" draws
on the full range of his or her professionial knowledge and skill; but it is in the