Friday, October 3, 2025

The Art of Creating a Model Reader: Applying Eco's Translation Principles to “The Name of the Rose” — M.D. Muthukumaraswamy

The Art of Creating a Model Reader: Applying Eco's Translation Principles to “The Name of the Rose”

M.D. Muthukumaraswamy



A friend of mine asked what principles I would have followed for the Tamil translation of “The Name of the Rose”  if conventional theories of translation did not apply.

Umberto Eco, a towering figure in literature and semiotics, occupied the unique position of being both a celebrated novelist and a profound translation theorist. His work, “Experiences in Translation”, is not a prescriptive manual but a deeply personal and intellectually rigorous exploration of the challenges of rendering a text into another language and culture. Drawing from his experiences as both a translated author and a translator, Eco posits principles that move beyond the simplistic notion of literal equivalence. Instead, he advocates for a method that prioritises preserving a text's intended aesthetic effect on its reader. These principles are universally applicable and offer a compelling framework for translating his magnum opus, “The Name of the Rose”—a novel as complex in its linguistic and cultural references as it is in its intricate plot.

At the heart of Eco's philosophy is the rejection of "equivalence in meaning" as a feasible or even desirable goal. He argues that the idea of a perfect, one-to-one correspondence between words in different languages is a fallacy. Instead, he proposes that translation is an act of negotiation. The translator, as a "privileged reader," must constantly make choices, sacrificing certain nuances to preserve others, all in service of the source text's overall aesthetic effect.

This principle is paramount when considering the multifaceted linguistic landscape of “The Name of the Rose”. The novel is a veritable Babel, with extensive use of Latin, smatterings of Italian dialects, and the macaronic, polyglot speech of the hunchback Salvatore. The translator must decide how to handle the lengthy Latin passages, which are not mere window dressing but are integral to the novel's philosophical and theological debates. Should they be translated in full, paraphrased, or left in the original with annotations? The choice a translator makes profoundly shapes the reader's experience, either by making the text more accessible or by preserving the sense of scholarly otherness so crucial to the novel's world.

Flowing from the principle of negotiation is the primacy of the "deep sense," or the intentio operis (the intention of the work). For Eco, the translator's ultimate fidelity is not to individual words but to the overarching purpose and aesthetic effect of the text. He illustrates this with the "lettera/epistle" dilemma in the translation of his own “Foucault's Pendulum”, where a literal translation would have rendered a joke incomprehensible.

In “The Name of the Rose”, the "deep sense" is not merely the resolution of the murder mystery but the exploration of the power of knowledge, the nature of truth, and the complexities of faith, reason and humour. A translator guided by Eco's principles would understand that their primary duty is to convey the intellectual thrill of the philosophical debates and the palpable atmosphere of a 14th-century Benedictine abbey.

Eco also emphasises that translation is a "shift...between two cultures." A text is not a disembodied string of words but a product of a specific cultural and intertextual milieu. To translate effectively, one must adapt cultural references so they resonate with the target audience. The "hedge/Darien" example from “Foucault's Pendulum”, where a reference to a famous Italian poem is replaced with an allusion to Keats, powerfully illustrates this.

“The Name of the Rose” is steeped in the intellectual traditions of medieval Christianity. A direct translation of the myriad references to theological treatises, philosophical concepts, and historical figures might bewilder a reader unfamiliar with this context. An Eco-inspired translator would seek to make these references accessible, not necessarily by replacing them, but  by employing language that evokes a similar sense of historical and intellectual weight for the target reader.

Eco places great importance on preserving the rhythm and style of the source text. His experience translating Gérard de Nerval's Sylvie taught him that the musicality and stylistic quirks of a text are often as crucial to its effect as its semantic content. This often demands a departure from literal meaning to maintain the intended aesthetic experience.

“The Name of the Rose” presents a formidable stylistic challenge. The novel's prose is often labyrinthine and ornate, echoing the cadences of medieval Latin. The dialogue, which shifts in register depending on the speaker's social standing and education, also requires a keen stylistic ear. The translator's task is to create distinct voices for the scholarly William of Baskerville, the impressionable Adso of Melk, the fanatical Jorge of Burgos, and the linguistically chaotic Salvatore—a task that can only be accomplished through a deep understanding of the stylistic resources of the target language.

In “Experiences in Translation”, Eco explains that an author writes with an ideal reader in mind—the Model Reader. This is not a real person but a textual strategy: an imagined reader who has the specific cultural background and willingness to make the effort the author expects. For “The Name of the Rose”, Eco envisioned a Model Reader who:

Wants to become "as medieval as possible" and is prepared to immerse themselves in the 14th-century world of the abbey.

Is willing to engage actively with the novel's complexities.

Has a "Western" cultural background and a passive familiarity with Latin from cultural exposure (e.g., in church or legal terms), allowing the author to use Latin quotations.

This concept is crucial for the translator, who must first understand the original Model Reader and then decide how to create a similar experience for a reader from a different cultural context. For example, Eco notes that his Russian translator used Old Church Slavonic instead of Latin to give her readers a similar sense of religious and historical distance. In my own translation, I decided to translate the Latin passages into Tamil to create a comparable effect for my readers.

My Tamil translation of “The Name of the Rose” faithfully follows the principles Umberto Eco himself articulated. It is an invitation for the Tamil reader to become a new Model Reader. Rather than applying a rigid, "all-time true" divine grammar—which is non-existent anyway—the reader is encouraged to engage and negotiate with the variety of linguistic playfulness of the book. In doing so, they will discover fascinating experiments with syntax, punctuation, and dialogue, all without sacrificing the gripping narrative force of the murder mystery. 

A successful translation is not a static reflection of the original but a dynamic re-creation that honours its spirit. It requires a thoughtful and creative interpreter to ensure the intellectual power and aesthetic appeal of the original work are reborn for a new audience. This principle is as vital to the art of translation itself as it is to the journey of “The Name of the Rose” into Tamil.

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