DeKoven Ezrahi, Sidra. “By Train, by Ship, by Subway: Sholem Aleichem and the American Voyage of Self Invention.” In Booking Passage: Exile and Homecoming in the Modern Jewish Imagination. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000.
Halkin, Hillel. Introduction to Menakhem Mendl and Motl, The Cantor’s Son. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2002.
Kachuck, R. S. “On Sholem Aleichem’s Humor in English Translation.” YIVO Annual of Jewish Social Research 1 (1956-57), 39–81.
Miron, Dan. “Bouncing Back: Destruction and Recovery in Sholem Aleichem’s Motl Peyse dem khazns.” In The Image of the Shtetl. Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 2000.
Shmeruk, Khone. “Sholem Aleichem and America.” YIVO Annual of Jewish Social Research 20 (1991), 211-38.
A Note on the Translations
The greatest challenge in translating Tevye is Tevye’s frequent (mis)quoting of scripture. For example, the biblical quotation “Thou shalt rejoice in thy fast” is rendered by Tevye as “Live it up, you paupers.” In this manner Tevye often insinuates his own commentary into the text, reducing its high-flown rhetoric to the bitter reality of his circumstances. This is Tevye in action, whether he is debating with God or showing off his “erudition.” My solution was to present the scriptural quotations in italics alongside Tevye’s highly personal interpretations.
I was fortunate to have the use of the glossary that is appended to an earlier Tevye translation, by the noted Hebrew and Yiddish scholar Hillel Halkin. The glossary consists of transliterations of the original biblical quotations and their exact sources and English translations. I thank Hillel Halkin for his scholarly help. Rather than have the reader flip back and forth from text to glossary, I have incorporated within the text both the quotations and Tevye’s interpretations of them. Every translator of Tevye must find a solution to this problem. I hope mine works for the reader of English.
Tevye is presented as Tevye’s account of his life as he relates it to his friend Sholem Aleichem, who records Tevye’s words. It is thus written in the first person, and its language is that of a simple, poor, and — except in religious traditions and biblical matters — uneducated man living in a Russian shtetl. Could I imagine Tevye using a sophisticated word, even though it might be the most accurate?
My husband, Howie, a gifted writer, Yiddish speaker, and frustrated actor, loved reading aloud from Tevye as we worked together. The film of Fiddler on the Roof, however wonderful, gives no hint of the many tragedies that befall Tevye throughout the novel, and we frequently had to pause in our work to cry. I will always remember this collaboration with the most heartfelt gratitude and pleasure.
Motl, like Tevye, is written in the first person, but its narrator is a clever, mischievous nine-year-old boy, high-spirited and insatiably curious, eager to try anything for the fun of it. His vocabulary needed to reflect these qualities, something I had great fun with.
Several years ago my friend the fine actress Suzanne Toren performed with me two of the episodes from Motl at a family program at YIVO, alternating Yiddish and English. The audience of children and their parents enjoyed it immensely. Sholem Aleichem’s love of children is apparent in Motl, so it’s no wonder the young audience responded so well.
Translating Motl was a great pleasure but also deeply sad, for it was as Sholem Aleichem was writing it that he died. The book ends in midsentence, and there’s an explanatory epilogue by his son-in-law I. D. Berkovitch. Having translated Sholem Aleichem over many years and many books, I could tell where in the text he’d begun to grow weak, his powers dwindling as the story drew to a close. The dimming of his usual bright, sharp style alerted me to bad things to come. He was dying as he was writing the very words I was translating, and yet Motl the cantor’s son lives on. May the reader enjoy this lovable little hellion.
TEVYE THE DAIRYMAN
KOTONTI–I AM UNWORTHY
A letter from Tevye the dairyman to the author
WRITTEN IN 1895.
In honor of my dear, beloved friend Reb Sholem Aleichem, may God grant you health and prosperity together with your wife and children, and may you have great fulfillment whatever you do and wherever you go. Amen. Selah!
Kotonti! — I am unworthy! This I tell you in the language our Father Jacob spoke to God in the portion Vayishlach, when he went to meet Esau. But if this is not entirely appropriate, I beg you, Pani Sholem Aleichem, not to be upset with me, as I am an ordinary man and you certainly know more than I do — who can question that? After all, living one’s whole life in a little village, one is ignorant. Who has time to look into a holy book or to learn a verse of the Bible or Rashi? Luckily when summer comes around, the Yehupetz rich folk take off to their dachas in Boiberik, and every now and then I can get together with an educated person to hear some wisdom. Believe me when I tell you how well I remember that day when you sat with me in the woods listening to my foolish tales. That meant more to me than anything in the world!
I don’t know what you found so interesting that you would devote your time to an insignificant person like myself, to write me letters and, unbelievably, to put my name in a book, make a big fuss over me, as if I were who knows who. For that I can certainly say, Kotonti! — I am unworthy! True, I am a good friend of yours, may God grant me a hundredth portion of what I wish for you! You know very well that I served you in bygone years when you were still living in the big dacha — do you remember? I bought you a cow for fifty rubles that I bargained down from fifty-five. It was a steal. So she died on the third day? It wasn’t my fault. Why did the other cow I gave you also die? You know very well how that upset me. I was beside myself! Do I know why she died? Even with the best intentions things like that can happen!
May God help me and you in the new year. It should be — how is it said? — Bless us as in days of old. May God help me in my livelihood, may I and my horse be well, and may my cows give enough milk that, with my cheese and butter, I will be able to serve you for a long time to come. May God grant you and all the Yehupetz rich folk success and prosperity. May your lives be filled with great joy. And for the trouble you’ve gone through for my sake, and for the honor you do me through your book, I can only say again: Kotonti! — I am unworthy!
How do I deserve the honor of having a world of people suddenly learning that on the other side of Boiberik, not far from Anatevka, lives a Jew called Tevye the dairyman? But you must know what you are doing. I don’t need to teach you anything. How to write, you certainly know. As for the rest, I rely on your noble character to see to it that I might earn a little something from your book, because it is sorely needed now. I soon have to think about marrying off a daughter, God willing. And if God grants us life, we might have two to marry off at the same time.