TRANSLATING HUMOR: P. G.

WODEHOUSE AND FRENCH

Roger Billerey

In spite of its very nature, which is to study concrete instances of human

language in order to render them in another idiom, translation is often the parent
pauvre of linguistic studies. Why? Possibly because, as the poor performance
of computer-aided translation seems to demonstrate, it cannot be considered in
purely scientific and/or technical terms, and requires more than a little
intuitiveness, finesse and instinct. We shall discuss a possible--but by no means
definitive--definition of the process of translation, and illustrate it with the study
of a few examples taken from P. G. Wodehouse’s The Mating Season, which
highlight various ways in which linguistic analysis and intuition are blended in
the process of translation from English into French.

Hazo's very broad definition of translation as a process which "occurs when

something is changed or transformed into something else, when one thing
becomes another" (3) suggests an analogy with geometry. Through a geometric
translation, an object engenders another object of identical dimensions in
another location; similarly, translation creates a new text from an already
existing one, with which the former shares a common meaning and overall
contour. Furthermore, just as the physical distance between the original object
and its translated image depends on the norm of the vector of the translation, the
translated text will be all the more distant from an exact literal rendering of the
original as the two languages themselves are distant in terms of syntax,
vocabulary or culture. This distance, however, can hardly be quantified
objectively, and this is precisely where this analogy falls short. As a geometric
translation operates within a single space, the translated object is the exact
image of the original; linguistic translation, on the other hand, operates from one
particular space into another, whose own distinct characteristics prevent any
such identity between the source and the translated text. There is more to
translation than a mere displacing of words--and the shortcomings of the
analogy above become obvious when one remembers that two distinct words are
used in French to refer to these transformations: la traduction, therefore, is not
une translation.

While non-coincidence may be considered as the tragic flaw of translation, it is

conversely the driving force of humor, which thrives on incongruity, as was
expressed by Crothers: "There must be two trains of thought going at full speed
in opposite directions, so that there may be a collision" (374). Such a collision
may occur on several levels, the most immediate being that of the signifier itself.
The unconventional use or distortion of a particular signifier thwarts the reader's
or hearer's expectations by introducing a set of alien denotations and
connotations in a context that does not normally call for them, which induces
surprise and laughter. Operating essentially on the level of denotation, puns and
spoonerisms replace the expected signifier with another whose appearance is
similar but whose meaning is incongruously different. On the other hand,
register and tone clashes substitute a signifier whose meaning is not unexpected
but whose connotations come as a blatant contrast with the context in which it
is inserted, as is the case with "learned words in non-learned environments"
(Hall, 89) or "marked colloquial expressions [...] in the midst of very formal
discourse" (ibid). In this case, the non-coincidence of connotations between two
given languages, which was already a hurdle on the path of translation, is
greatly magnified, as such a manipulation is not necessarily possible in the
target language, and even so, the substitutes available to the translator may not
have the same array of connotations as the one used in the original text, and thus
not strike the same chord in the reader's mind.
This paper focuses on translation problems stemming from the primary level of
the signifier and their syntactic materializations. Syntax here is understood in
quite a broad sense, as it encompasses the use of pronouns, determiners and
verbs with particles. General linguistic considerations will be kept to a
minimum, unless they can be applied directly to a particular problem and help
the translator find better solutions to it.

Among Wodehouse's seemingly innumerable stylistic trademarks, his use of

the pronoun one is quite remarkable, both for its frequency and stylistic
effectiveness. Two main functions can be made out, which will be illustrated by
a short corpus of examples. The first function can be defined as an expression
of modesty, be it genuine or affected, the latter providing a privileged context
for such a structure:

A: One hadn't supposed one's reputation was so far-flung (12).

B: [Esmond] "How do you think of those things ?"
[Bertie] "Oh, they just come to one" (61).

This function of the pronoun one hinges on its ambiguous character: as a general
characteristic, the referent of one may or may not include the speaker,
depending on the degree of generalization of the sentence. In these particular
examples, this allows the speaker not to identify himself explicitly as the subject
of his sentence, as the use of I would imply (for I is actually what is meant), and
thus not to ascribe his boast explicitly to himself. His sentence then takes on an
indefinite guise that is nevertheless clear enough to allow the hearer or reader
to understand that the referent of one is actually the speaker himself.
On the translation front, this use of one seems to find an appropriate equivalent
in French with the pronoun on. As attested in Grevisse, "on [peut] désigner une
ou plusieurs personnes bien déterminées [...] avec une nuance stylistique
(discrétion, modestie, ironie, mépris, etc.) même dans la langue la plus soignée,
au lieu de je, tu, nous, vous, il(s), elle(s)" (1140, emphasis added). If this
solution is used for example A, however, the possessive one's cannot be
translated by sa, for this would make the sentence ambiguous and unclear as to
whose reputation is alluded to, as the following translation shows:

A': On ne se doutait pas que sa réputation fût aussi étendue.

This is but a minor problem, since it can be solved with a slightly different
thematization of the dependent clause, using réputation as the object and on as
the subject, which will eliminate the need for a possessive adjective before
réputation:

A': On ne se doutait pas qu'on eût une réputation aussi étendue.

Even though such a translation could appear as appropriate, we shall see when
examining the other use of one that a better solution can be found--for this one
lacks some of the typical Wodehousian "oomph".
Example B offers a different problem: one being used as an indirect object, on
cannot be used in French. In such cases, it is usually replaced by vous, and a
translation could be:

B': [Esmond] "Comment pouvez-vous penser à des choses pareilles?"

[Bertie] "Oh, elles vous viennent simplement à l'esprit."

However, this is not appropriate, because vous is essentially a second person

pronoun, and thus refers either to the other character or to some undetermined
referent, but hardly to the speaker himself since, as a second person pronoun, it
excludes him--whereas one, if it does not explicitly refer to the speaker
exclusively, does not exclude him. Besides, the context (a dialogue) makes it
difficult to use vous for generalizing purposes, because it could be understood
as a reference to the other character.

Another element to be kept in mind is the stylistic effect produced by the use of
one in such a context. As a third person pronoun, one is rarely used in current
speech, and when actually used it serves generalizing purposes. When it appears
in such a situation where it actually has a specific, known--albeit not explicitly
identified--referent, it has an incongruous ring, which should ideally be rendered
in the translation as well.
A solution for example B may be found in complete indetermination. This
would make up for the deficiencies of vous, while at the same time endowing
the sentence with an unusual tone which would render the stylistic effect of one
quite effectively. Example B would then become in French:

B': [Esmond] "Comment pouvez-vous penser à des choses pareilles?"

[Bertie] "Oh, elles viennent simplement à l'esprit."

The other function of one that can be found in The Mating Season is illustrated
by the following examples:

C: [Esmond] "You are going to say that it is not Wooster's fault that she looks like
a slightly enlarged cheesemite. Very true. One strives to be fair. But [...] he is
a menace to the community" (167).
D: [Bertie] The revelation of this deeper, coshing side to Jeeves's character had
come as something of a shock to me. One found oneself wondering how far
the thing would spread (215).
E: [Esmond] "Doesn't one rather want to keep visiting valets out of this?"
[Bertie] "No, one does not want to keep visiting valets out of this", I said
firmly (225).
F: [Esmond] "One needs a lot of bracing up these days, I find" (54).

This use of one has what could be termed a distancing effect, and here again,
one allows the speaker to "play" with the referent. This time, his communicative
aim is not to include himself in it on the sly, but to make the hearer focus on an
indefinite (non-identified) referent which, as it is not explicitly identified as the
speaker, may or may not actually be the speaker himself. By suppressing the
trace of the speaker's presence and role as the theme of the sentence, one
somewhat redeems him by ascribing the shameful or negative statement that
follows to this non-identified referent, this non-person, and thus erasing or at
least covering up some of his commitment.
To this value must be added the stylistic effect produced by the use of one in
current speech, as was previously mentioned, and Bertie's repeating Esmond's
sentence verbatim in example E provides a good example of the coexistence of
this distancing value and of the stylistic effect of one: Bertie perceives Esmond's
reluctance to commit himself and the subsequent unnaturalness of his sentence,
so he repeats the exact same phrasing to make Esmond realize the absurdity of
his suggestion. This makes the need for an adequate translation of Esmond's
sentence all the more acute. If Esmond's sentence were not repeated exactly by
Bertie, a passive or impersonal structure in French would be sufficient to render
his meaning, since it could emphasize the process conveyed by the verb and
erase the subject, which would nevertheless be understood. Esmond uses an
oblique word choice to conceal his main point--his embarrassment at the idea
of having his personal love affair handled by a stranger, and what is more a
valet--under a semblance of concern for social conventions; this could be
translated by such verbs as convenir de or être préférable, for instance:

E': [Esmond] "Ne convient-il pas plutôt de laisser les valets de chambre en visite
en dehors de tout cela?"

However, such a solution would not be quite appropriate, because it would

translate only the distancing effect of one while neglecting its stylistic function,
thus considerably lessening the impact of Bertie's repetition with a phrasing in
French that would bear no particular hint of unnaturalness or incongruity:

E' [cont.]: [Bertie] "Non, il ne convient pas de laisser les valets de chambre en
visite en dehors de tout cela", rétorquai-je avec fermeté.

In this respect, a stylistic device must be used to render both Esmond's

reluctance and the unnaturalness of his sentence. To this effect, the French form
l'on can be used convincingly. Just as one in current speech, it is used much
more commonly in written contexts than in current spoken French, and will be
noticed quite strikingly if used by itself at the beginning of a sentence: as the l'
is essentially introduced for ease of pronunciation when on would follow a
vocalic sound, there is no need for it at the beginning of a sentence, since it
would follow a pause, and therefore the correct-but-unnecessary use of the form
l'on as opposed to the expected on will be perceived as an oddity which provides
an appropriate equivalent to the stylistic effect of one in English. This solution
can be applied quite effectively to example B, which will thus gain the adequate
"oomph" that on alone was unable to provide, as well as examples C and D,
which show similar oblique word choices:

B': L'on ne se doutait pas que l'on eût une réputation aussi étendue.
C': L'on tâche d'être objectif.
D': L'on en venait à se demander jusqu'où cela pourrait bien s'étendre.

Back to example E, where the negation provides another opportunity to

emphasize the stylistic effect of Esmond's word choice. In French, ne...pas and
ne...point are both correct and in use, but the latter structure, just as l'on, is
restricted to certain contexts, mainly to the written form, and since it comes in
a paradigmatic opposition to the more common ne...pas, its use is endowed with
a certain stylistic value of refinement. It will therefore be particularly noticed in
spoken language as rather unusual and contrived, which reflects the
unnaturalness of Esmond's sentence and the feelings that he is trying to convey
under a pretense of non-commitment. Example E could then be translated as:

E': [Esmond] "Est-ce que l'on ne préfère point laisser les valets de chambre en
visite en dehors de tout cela?"
[Bertie] "Non, l'on ne préfère point laisser les valets de chambre en visite en
dehors de tout cela", rétorquai-je avec fermeté.

Lastly, example F offers an interesting example of a need for more elaboration

in the French rendering. The exact structure of Esmond's sentence cannot be
reproduced in French, because the sentence-final position of the declarative verb
"I find" is quite typical of an English phrasing as opposed to the word order that
would be preferred in French, as Vinay and Darbelnet suggest:

La position finale absolue est certainement privilégiée en Français [...] on y trouve

de préférence des mots forts [...] ces mots sont généralement étoffés, et
comportent au moins deux syllabes, souvent plus. Aussi, la séquence nom
polysyllabique + adjectif polysyllabique est-elle très recherchée comme chute de
période, en position finale.[...] Le français évite de terminer ses phrases sur des
mots aussi courts que "it", "us", "one", "also", "said", etc. qui seraient atones dans
la plupart des cas. En outre, ces mots-outils ne sont pas, en général, des éléments
essentiels du propos, auquel le français réserve [...] une place de choix en fin de
phrase (215-216).

For this reason, the French translation of example F is likely to feature the
declarative verb equivalent to "I find" sentence-initially. It follows that the
stylistic effect of l'on as previously mentioned will be radically weakened: the
use of l' is then quite predictable, since on will follow a vowel at the end of the
conjunction que, in which case que l'on is quite frequently preferred over the
elided form qu'on. We thus need to find another way to render the use of one in
English. This can be effectively achieved by using an adverb that will carry the
distancing effect of one through an understatement. Such a method illustrates
well the working of a modulation, as defined by Vinay and Darbelnet: one
attenuates the vividness that the need for "bracing up" has for the speaker by
ascribing it--on the surface--to a more general referent, but actually referring to
the speaker himself; in French, the strength of the need is attenuated directly by
an adverb which has a weakening meaning superficially but in effect acts as a
reinforcement. In this particular case, the adverb passablement can be used to
this effect, as the following translation of example F demonstrates:

F': Je trouve que l'on a passablement besoin de remontants ces temps-ci.

Next to the peculiar use of one that was just analyzed, another characteristic
of Wodehouse's style is his manipulation of the definite article. Aside from the
traditional English uses of the--which do not strictly overlap the range of the
French definite article and may be sources of translation difficulties in their own
right--Wodehouse plays with the presence or absence of the article in
unexpected contexts to achieve a number of stylistic effects. The most striking
of these idioyncrasies is probably the systematic use of the definite article to
refer to body parts in place of the expected possessive adjective. In contexts
where an English person would shake his or her head, Bertie almost always uses
the, as for instance in "I moved up to his end of the table, licking the lips" (51)
or "I raised the hand" (59). Given Wodehouse's obsession with the mot juste,
this is not gratuitous: by deliberately using a non-typical form, he slightly upsets
conventions and thus thwarts the reader's unconscious expectations. In French,
unfortunately, the definite article (with or without an indirect pronoun) is
precisely what is expected in such contexts, which suggests that the peculiar ring
of the original text will be lost, as the translation of the second example cited
above illustrates: Je levai la main. This loss should ideally be compensated
whenever possible, which can be achieved by choosing a word in French that
would both carry the denotative content of the English phrase and be slightly
out-of-context, and for instance the first example above could be translated as
me léchant les babines. This method can be applied most effectively when the
original word choice itself is fanciful, and slang words in particular offer
privileged opportunities for such an approach, as the following example
illustrates:
 G: Then, as if a bomb had suddenly exploded inside the bean, he shot up with a
stifled cry [...] (28)

A great number of slang synonyms of "head" are available in French, such as le

citron or la caboche, to name a few, and an appropriate compensation can be
accomplished by choosing an especially picturesque word:

G’:Puis, comme si une bombe lui avait soudainement explosé dans la cafetière,
il jaillit de sa chaise avec un cri étouffé [...]

If compensation is recommended whenever possible, the translator should

nevertheless not go overboard: as a great number of similar examples can be
found throughout the novel, systematic overtranslation would have the opposite
effect to the one desired and become contrived, all the more so as the structure
being translated is a mere definite article followed by a noun. For this reason,
literal translation and the loss it entails will then be frequently--albeit
reluctantly--accepted.
In a number of cases, the unexpected use of the definite article carries another
nuance that is interestingly similar to one of the functions of one analyzed
above:

H: However, I will own that this communication distinctly eased the spirit (131).
I: "And why are you looking as if you had slept in your clothes?" she asked,
giving the upholstery a look of distaste (182).
J: [...] one of God's less likable creatures with about a hundred and fourteen legs
[...] was doing its daily dozen on the sensitive skin, but did Nature care? Not
a hoot (135).

As this selection of examples illustrates, the definite article is preferred over a

possessive adjective in contexts that are similar to those when one is employed
instead of I, namely when the speaker does not want to ascribe a negative
statement to himself or tries to conceal his embarrassment. He resorts to an
under-determined form that enables him to give his sentence a pseudo-generic
appearance by not stating explicitly whose "upholstery", "spirit"or "sensitive
skin" is alluded to, while at the same time allowing the reader to understand that
he is not talking about anybody else. Contrary to the previous examples, for
which compensation was not vital, the stylistic function of the definite article
here is too important to be neglected in the translation. A mere definite article
would be inadequate, as it would not provide sufficient determination, while a
first-person possessive adjective, on the other hand, would be over-determined
and cancel the embarrassed nuance of the English phrase altogether. The
similarity that was highlighted above between this pseudo-generic use of the and
that of one suggests that a comparable effect can be achieved by using the
pronoun on or another possessive adjective. Example H does not lend itself to
the use of on proper, but Grevisse points out that "s'il faut exprimer un pronom
personnel ou un possessif renvoyant à on pris dans le sens indéfini, on se sert de
nous [...] ou, plus souvent, de vous (quand le locuteur s'efface [...])" (1141). As
Bertie is talking to himself and/or to the reader, no ambiguity is possible as to
whom vous would refer to (as opposed to a dialogue, for instance, as shown
above in the analysis of one), and thus vous can be used effectively to achieve
the desired compensation:

H': Je concéderai cependant que cette communication vous soulageait notablement

l'esprit.

Such a method cannot be strictly applied to examples I and J, if only because it

would entail excessive changes in the original word order. However, it suggests
a related approach with the facetious use of the third person. Once considered
a characteristic of the language of kings, referring to oneself in the third person
has come to be a common form of mock-modesty, especially with the phrase
votre serviteur, which provides a particularly appropriate rendering of the
English text, for it conceals any explicit reference to the first person, as do
Bertie's "the upholstery" and "the sensitive skin", while at the same time clearly
identifying the person that is being referred to. Examples I and J could then be
translated as follows:

I': "Et pourquoi avez-vous l'air d'avoir dormi dans vos vêtements?" demanda-t-
elle, considérant avec dégoût l'ajustement de votre serviteur.
J': [...] une créature du seigneur des moins avenantes, équipée d'environ cent
quatorze pattes [...] faisait sa gymnastique quotidienne sur la peau sensible de
votre serviteur, mais mère Nature s'en souciait-elle? Pas le moins du monde.

As was stressed before, such a device should not be overused, as it would

become too conspicuous and predictable, and therefore run counter to the
desired effect, which is a compensation for the unexpected use of the definite
article. The appropriateness in a given context of such renderings as suggested
above is left to the translator's appreciation of the rhythm of the passage--
nevertheless, it is not unreasonable to consider that Wodehouse's jaunty style
will generally accommodate these elaborations quite readily in most cases.
 The last issue which will now be addressed is that of verbs with particles,
and more specifically verbs indicating motion, such as run in or walk out, for
instance. These verbs are traditionally studied with reference to translation
problems, because they offer a particularly striking illustration of an important
divergence in the way in which French and English represent motion
syntactically. Vinay and Darbelnet provide a clear summary of the phenomenon:

Le résultat est marqué en anglais par la particule [...] occupant dans la phrase la
même place que la locution adverbiale qui en français indique la modalité de
l'action. Cette modalité est rendue en anglais par le verbe lui-même, alors que le
verbe français indique le résultat (105).

They call the phenomenon that occurs during the translation of these verbs a
"chassé-croisé", which a simple example can illustrate quite tellingly:

they ran out

becomes in French:
ils sortirent en courant

The chassé-croisé is employed almost systematically and automatically with

most common verbs such as the example above, but, as was mentioned before,
Wodehouse takes pride in the extreme refinement of his text and always strives
for the mot juste, which leads him to use such phrases as "he shimmered out"
(29), "He oozed out, and a few moments later oozed in again" (10) or "they
trickled out" (242). In these cases, no single verb in French is able to carry both
the functional meaning and the expressiveness of the English phrase on its own,
and the chassé-croisé becomes an actual translation method to which the
translator resorts consciously to find an appropriate rendering of the original
text. Even so, unfortunately, the literal meaning will generally be lost. In the
first example, neither il sortit en chatoyant or il sortit en scintillant can be used
because the static, descriptive meaning of chatoyer and scintiller does not lend
itself to a gerund (gérondif) form in a punctual context1. In the second and third
examples, suinter can obviously not be used in an active meaning with a person
as an agent, nor can the phrase au compte-gouttes, for it requires either a greater
1This is true even with a semantically congruous, inanimate subject such as la lune: La
lune se leva, chatoyante or scintillante is better than ?La lune se leva en chatoyant or en
scintillant, because what is modified by chatoyer or scintiller is la lune and not the
process of se lever, which is what the gérondif structure would modify.
number of people or a continuous process, as in the phrase ces articles sont
distribués au compte-gouttes, for instance. This does not invalidate the method
of the chassé-croisé itself, but it suggests that the adverbial part in the French
translation will have to be more expressive than literally accurate, while still
rendering the general idea conveyed by the English verb. To this effect, a rare
adverb or elaborate adverbial phrase will be preferred so as to retain the refined
impression produced by the original text, and "he shimmered out" may then
become il sortit dans un souffle.
However convenient and systematic the chassé-croisé may seem, it proves
inadequate in a number of cases. In the second example cited above, "He oozed
out, and a few moments later oozed in again", two stylistic elements appear
simultaneously, with the choice of a particularly expressive verb and its
repetition in a parallel construction, and to translate the verbs ooze in and ooze
out with a traditional chassé-croisé would only render the peculiarity of the
word choice through the adverbial phrase and not the repetition, as two different
verbs would be used in French (entrer and sortir). On the other hand, to choose
two close-sounding verbs in French, such as disparaître and reparaître, would
reproduce only the parallel construction used in English while not rendering the
peculiarity of the original word choice in a convincing way. One possible
solution is then to combine these two approaches and use two close verbs in
conjunction with an adverb or adverbial phrase that would carry the stylistic
incongruity of the original word choice. This solution provides an interesting
illustration of Vinay and Darbelnet's concept of transposition, as the semantic
element of the English particles is conveyed by the verbs used in the translation,
while the description of the process, along with its incongruous appearance,
shifts from the verbs onto an adverb or adverbial phrase in French: Il disparut
fluidement, et quelques instants après reparut de même.
While the chassé-croisé does yield acceptable results in most cases, it
sometimes cannot be used at all, and the translator must find a self-contained
verb that will convey both the objective meaning of the English phrase and its
expressive function. Let us consider the following example: "Dame Daphne told
Esmond Haddock not to be too long over his port, and popped off" (51). Indeed,
if the particle "off" can easily be translated with the verb partir, what adverb
could render the meaning and onomatopoeic quality of "pop"? Ideally, then, the
translator must find a verb that would both mean to leave and have a phonetic
or rhythmic aspect that would approximate that of "pop". Albeit not
onomatopoeic, s'éclipser is probably the best equivalent, since its meaning is
close enough to "pop off" and the short plosive sounds [k] and [p] give it a
peculiar phonetic aspect that is arguably consistent with its connotation of
quickness.
In the last example that will now be discussed, the difficulty is heightened by the
context in which the verb is used:

K: There was a flash of pink, and Esmond Haddock came in [...] We will [...]
expunge that "came" at the conclusion of the previous spasm and substitute for
it "curvetted". There was a flash of pink, and Esmond Haddock curvetted in.
I don't know if you have ever seen a fellow curvet, but war-horses used to do
it rather freely in the old days [...] (219-220)

With a chassé-croisé, the result of the process is conveyed by the verb, as it is

usually the main semantic element of the phrase, while the manner in which the
process is accomplished is described by an adverbial phrase. In this case,
however, the essential information is the manner in which Esmond comes in, as
it reflects his elation, and the particle merely serves as an indication of the
direction of his curvetting. As it would emphasize the latter over the former,
recourse to a chassé-croisé is thus impossible, and the only acceptable solution
would be to mirror the English structure by using a verb whose meaning would
render the idea conveyed by curvet, adjusting the context accordingly to provide
the information carried by the mere particle in in the original text. The verb
curvet can obviously not be translated literally with faire des courbettes, as it
has quite different connotations in French, but a solution is provided by the
allusion to the "war-horses", which suggests the verb caracoler. Besides, the last
sentence of the previous chapter will also have to be altered to allow
Wodehouse's correction in the following paragraphs. The example cited above
could then become in French:

K': Esmond Haddock entra dans ma chambre [...] Nous éliminerons [...] le faible
"entra" qui concluait la convulsion précédente pour le remplacer par
"caracola". Il y eut un éclair rose, et Esmond Haddock caracola dans ma
chambre. Je ne sais pas si vous avez déjà vu un type caracoler, mais les
chevaux de bataille le faisaient assez couramment dans le temps [...]

The examples that were discussed in this paper showed that similar problems
do not necessarily command a single approach, and that translation methods are
helpful as long as they are not applied systematically and indiscriminately. It
generally follows that several options are offered to the translator, whose
stylistic and linguistic sense govern the final decision.

As the opening reflections of this study suggested, there is more to

translation than a mere transfer of words from a language into another--just as
there is more to the act of writing than a mere combination of words. Writing
is a permanent choice, and every single word has an influence on all the others:
one word can alter the meaning of a whole passage by introducing a subtle
nuance, a different register or a particular polysemy that allows the text to drift
in a completely new direction. As an instance of writing in its own right,
translation itself is also a permanent choice--the difference being that this choice
is far from being open, as tremendous constraints are imposed by the original
text and must be respected. Translation frequently becomes adaptation, and the
issue of choice is then crucial: the word or phrase that is chosen must not only
translate the meaning of the source as closely as possible, but also reflect the
connotations carried and the overall impression conveyed by the original
phrasing--a daunting task indeed.

Roger Billerey
Université de Bordeaux III, France.

A graduate student from the University of Bordeaux III, France, I completed my

Maîtrise in English and Linguistics in 1996. I am currently working as a
Lecturer in French at UC Santa Barbara, and I intend to enter an MA/PhD
program in Linguistics in the USA, possibly at UCLA.

WORKS CITED

PRINTED BOOKS
Escarpit, Robert. L'humour. Paris: PUF, 1960.
Grevisse, Maurice. Le bon usage, 12ème éd. Paris: Duculot, 1986.
Hall, Robert A., Jr. The Comic Style of P. G. Wodehouse. Hamden, CN: Archon
Books, 1974.
Vinay, J.P. & J.Darbelnet. Stylistique comparée du français et de l'anglais.
Paris: Didier, 1958, 1977.
Wodehouse, P.G. The Mating Season. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1949.
ARTICLES
Crothers, Samuel M. "The Mission of Humor". Atlantic Monthly vol. 84 (Sept.
1899). Boston & New York: Houghton, Mifflin & Co.: 372-381.
Hazo, Samuel. "So True as to be Invisible". Translation Review 41 (1993).
Dallas: U of Texas: 3-10.