Martin McLaughlin

Literary imitation in the Italian Renaissance : the theory and practice of literary imitation in Italy from Dante to Bembo

The concept of imitatio - the imitation of classical and vernacular texts - was the dominant critical and creative principle in Italian Renaissance literature. Linked to modern notions of intertextuality, imitation has been much discussed recently, but this is the first book to offer a comprehensive survey of Italian Renaissance ideas on imitation, covering both theory and practice, and both Latin and vernacular works. Martin McLaughlin charts the emergence of the idea, in vague terms in Dante, then in Petrarchs more precise reconstruction of classical imitatio, before concentrating on the major writers of the Quattrocento. Some chapters deal with key humanists, such as Lorenzo Valla and Pico della Mirandola, while others discuss each of the major vernacular figures in the debate, including Leonardo Bruni, Leon Battista Alberti, Angelo Poliziano, and Pietro Bembo. For the first time scholars and student have an up-to-date account of the development of Ciceronianism in both Latin and the vernacular before 1530, and the book provides fresh insights into some of the canonical works of Italian literature from Dante to Bembo.

Ideology, censorship and translation across genres: past and present

History demonstrates that ideology and censorship are two concepts that appear to be inextricably linked to the translation process. Who translates, under what circumstances, and for what purposes are only some of the questions that come to mind as we attempt to examine the activity of translation, cognizant of the notion that ‘the ideology of a translation resides not simply in the text translated, but in the voicing and stance of the translator, and in its relevance to the receiving audience’ (Tymoczko 2003, p. 183). There are numerous examples where transformations of historical accounts and literary texts have resulted in the omission or distortion of information for ideological and political purposes. In his preface to the Ukrainian translation (1947) of Animal Farm, George Orwell conveyed his awareness that a translation may not always be understood in the way the writer of the work intended it to be. Perhaps it is for this reason that, in addressing Ukrainian prisoners of war outside the Soviet Union, Orwell felt compelled to explain his background as a world traveller and avid reader, all the while recognizing his own lack of first-hand experience of that country: ‘And here I must pause to describe my attitude to the Soviet régime. I have never visited Russia and my knowledge of it consists only of what can be learned by reading books and newspapers’ (1945/1989, p. 117). Much like Orwell, who was able to view with remarkable insight and perspicacity a political apparatus he had never experienced up close, we today are able to gather information about places unknown to us, talk about them, form opinions and question the viability of their leaders and governments, bombarded as we are by news and information that come to us through different media from diverse corners of the planet, either in the original language or, more frequently, in translation. The difference between our time and Orwell’s, as regards the ability to absorb and process information, is not so much the nature of the information itself since, in the main, the problem of its transmission – be it faithful, pseudo-faithful, or distorted – remains constant. What has changed, however, is the overwhelming quantity of sources and immediateness of the data we receive, with the result that the discipline of Translation, functioning as a vehicle for making information accessible from one culture to another, has had to adapt to this plethora of different sources and voices.

From Lepidus to Leon Battista Alberti: Naming, Renaming, and Anonymizing the Self in Quattrocento Italy

Abstract In the original redaction of his first literary work, the Latin comedy Philodoxeos (1424), Leon Battista Alberti (1404–72) named himself ‘Lepidus’ and the work circulated for a while as if it were the work of an ancient Roman comedian with this name. Later the author renamed himself, adding the first name ‘Leo’ (in Latin) or ‘Leon’ (in the vernacular) in front of Battista, and using it in the second version of his comedy (1434–37). Around 1440 he decided not to give his name as the author of two works: his unfinished Latin autobiography, the Vita (c. 1438–41) and the anonymous vernacular Protesta (c. 1441). Much of Alberti’s authorship between the 1420s and 1440s thus revolved round pseudonyms, added names, and anonymity. The article suggests that such preoccupations were bound up with the two traumas of Alberti’s birth: he was born illegitimate and into a family in exile from Florence. This concern with nomenclature and individuality is also linked to the fact that Alberti was the first early modern author to leave a verbal self-portrait in his autobiography and a visual self-portrait in the bronze medal he had cast, where his new added name is prominent. Both the religious and secular implications of the name ‘Leo’ seem to have played a part in Alberti’s choice of his new name.