Interestingly, breaking up long sentences into shorter ones by replacing a transitional word with a period does not quite capture the same nuance as the original. Here’s a translation of Boccaccio, and a version where I add a period in the middle.
Wherefore, as it falls to me to lead the way in this your enterprise of storytelling, I intend to begin with one of His wondrous works, that, by hearing thereof, our hopes in Him, in whom is no change, may be established, and His name be by us forever lauded.
Wherefore, as it falls to me to lead the way in this your enterprise of storytelling, I intend to begin with one of His wondrous works. By hearing thereof, our hopes in Him, in whom is no change, may be established, and His name be by us forever lauded.
By replacing ”, that,” with a period, my revision completely changes our relationship with the narrator. In the original translation, the narrator is both announcing his goal and describing what he plans to do to achieve it.
In the revised version, he’s describing his plan of action and a potential effect of that plan. We might assume that he’s choosing that plan in order to bring about that effect, but it’s no longer explicit in the text. Each sentence stands on its own. It’s up to the reader to perceive the narrator’s intention.
I wonder if inserting periods systematically tends to disrupt explicit links between intention and action. If so, perhaps the shortening of sentences reflects the anomie of the modern era, the gradual decay of an explicit moral framework in the stories we tell.
Interestingly, breaking up long sentences into shorter ones by replacing a transitional word with a period does not quite capture the same nuance as the original. Here’s a translation of Boccaccio, and a version where I add a period in the middle.
By replacing ”, that,” with a period, my revision completely changes our relationship with the narrator. In the original translation, the narrator is both announcing his goal and describing what he plans to do to achieve it.
In the revised version, he’s describing his plan of action and a potential effect of that plan. We might assume that he’s choosing that plan in order to bring about that effect, but it’s no longer explicit in the text. Each sentence stands on its own. It’s up to the reader to perceive the narrator’s intention.
I wonder if inserting periods systematically tends to disrupt explicit links between intention and action. If so, perhaps the shortening of sentences reflects the anomie of the modern era, the gradual decay of an explicit moral framework in the stories we tell.