Lost in Tanslation

Rebel Girl Grades Tan Nguyen's Letter

"Es verdad. Washington bullets again."

—The Clash, "Sandinista!"

Rebel Girl has been following the brouhaha over candidate Tan Nguyen's letter to prospective voters. Let's be more specific: his intimidating and fraudulent letter to 14,000 prospective voters with Spanish surnames. Let's be specific, and accurate, too: brouhaha without much ha-ha, and shock —shock! —to discover that gambling (voter fraud) is going on in Casablanca County.

Rebel Girl feels left out. Though she boasts a terrific Spanish surname, one of the most popular and easy to pronounce, she herself did not receive one of the letters because she dwells outside the 47th Congressional District. Most of her political mail celebrates the governor posing with charismatic (hot, hot, hot!) Latino leaders and declaring his devotion to education. Yeah, right.

No, like many of you, she had to track the epistle/evidence down on the internet. Then, pocha as she is, she had to find an English translation. Sigh. Life is rough for a second generation Mexican-American. And they say we don't assimilate. Sheesh.

Mild-mannered professor of English that she is, Rebel Girl has spent the weekend pondering the text.

Granted, there was much to ponder beginning with, what was Tan Nguyen thinking? And what did Rebel Girl's favorite college trustee and Nguyen's advisor, Tom "My family swam over from Spain— I'm no Mexican" Fuentes know and when did he know it?

But really, she looked at it with the eyes of a person who has graded college student writing for the last 15 years. And what did she see?

Rebel Girl reviewed her grading standards. She considered in terms of what we like to call the rubric. The letter was a C, at best, C minus maybe. A C grade meant satisfactory, sometime marginally so. It showed an understanding of the basic ideas and information involved in the assignment but it may also have had some factual, interpretive or conceptual errors. Clearly the writer's intent was clear, even though his execution was ineffective. In a C-level paper, the writer's argument is sometimes only partially developed, with little analysis, with limited use of textual evidence. With its five scant paragraphs, the Nguyen letter was certainly that. The arrangement of a C-level paper may not appear entirely natural or smooth, with some awkward transitions, a few weakly unified or undeveloped paragraphs. This was most definitely true of Nguyen's work, especially the last two paragraphs. While there was an attempt to create a sense of transition between the paragraphs, the grand leaps each one made, coupled with a complete lack of sources to verify their outstanding (sic) claims, made this work marginal at best. In fact, the more Rebel Girl thought about it, and got herself worked up, the more she thought this work was not at college level after all, not a marginally passing paper. And that even without considering the occasional wordy sentences structure and awkward word choices she felt the need to wince.

So, finally, it failed.

Okay, granted, the letter was a translation. For all she knew it might, in the original Spanish have been a work comparable to Carlos Fuentes' The Death of Artemio Cruz or perhaps something by Borges: you know, prismatic and labyrinthine, what those folks call magical realism. Okay, so perhaps it was unfair to grade the translation. She planned to offer the Spanish department faculty time to weigh in on this project.

Then, today, late news, from the You Can't Make This Up Department, which is down the hall from the Spanish department. At his press conference, Tan Nguyen blamed the "hysteria" over the letter on, yes (Si), wait, here it comes…a bad translation! In the original English draft of the letter, he said, the word "immigrant" (translated to emigrado or immigrante—the jury is still out) wasn't used—instead the phrase "just a resident with a green card" was. So, it was the translator's fault—not his. And no, he wouldn't be dropping out of the race. Why should he?

Why indeed? (Any teacher can tell you—K-12, college or university, that is one lame excuse.)

But, let's do a closer read, shall we?

Mr. Tan neglected the more problematic part of the letter, which threatened the recipients with this Borgesian fabrication:

At the same time, you are advised that the government of the United States is installing a new computer system to verify the names of all new registered voters that vote in the October and November elections. Anti-immigration organizations can ask for information from this new computer system.

And what about that "October" election reference? Is that just sloppiness or what? Tee hee. How much did he pay his ghostwriter? His translator?

There were two more items, though a person could go on and on. Reb won't. For instance, that bevy of anti-immigrant group names that decorates the margins and letterhead. Hmmm.

Here's the crema on the flan. The letter is signed: Sincerely, Sergio Ramirez.

Rebel Girl was certain that she was one of the few Orange Countians who recognized this hearty effort at evoking an Everyhombre, using a nom de plume for a helpful if stern Mexican quasi-official, a name with authority and lots of hot vowels.

It was kind of shocking. Could it be, she wondered, THE Sergio Ramirez, a stalwart Sandinista revolutionary in Nicaragua back in the day, Vice President of the little country that roared at the US and then was undermined by the Reagan-Bush-Elliot Abrams even as the CIA mined its harbors? And wasn't my, our, Sergio Ramirez himself, ironically, a writer, in fact a novelist of some renown? Could this Ramirez have undergone the same kind of transformation as, say, Christopher Hitchens, turned from socialist land reform and education and national self-defense advocate (No pasaran!) into a nutty right-wing national chauvinist, all the while living here in Garden Grove or Santa Ana or Newport Beach and doing the cha-cha-cha with La Nutjob Suprema Senora Barbara Coe?

She knew the revolution had fallen on hard times but figured that Sergio, like his compadre Daniel Ortega, was busy retooling his image to fight another day. La lucha continua and all that.

So what could have brought Sergio Ramirez, the former vice president of revolutionary Nicaragua to the heart of OC?

Imagination is a lovely way to travel. And, of course, only the imagination of Tan Nguyen and his campaign advisors could have flown the former Second in Command of the revolutionary people's state to John Wayne Airport. Imagine how that brainstorming session might have gone:

All right guys, we need a Latino name. One that rings a bell, but not too many bells.

Jennifer Lopez? Nah. Eddie Olmos? No. Ricky Ricardo? Dead. Tomas Fuentes? Nope. Too fucking obvious.

A hand waves in the back of the room. I know, I know. How about Sergio Ramirez, the former Vice President of Nicaragua? That'll show those commies.

But my very favorite part of this letter is the closing paragraph, which reads so well, so true, so fine, now that the truth is out. Take another look and see for yourself:

Do not listen to any politician that tells you the opposite. They are only looking out for their own interests. They only want to win elections without any regard to what happens to you.

That's right. You tell 'em Tan.

Sergio Ramirez' Website

Civilitude vs. rudeitude

Professors (that's what the board is calling us these days), you might want to read an article in today’s Los Angeles Daily News. It’s called “Missing manners a rude awakening in college classes.”

They arrive late, talk on cell phones in class, throw temper tantrums, send ill-mannered e-mails and make threats.

…[A]cross the nation, professors … are watching students in their classrooms sink into this abyss of rude behavior, prompting discussions on how to encourage civility….

...Stephanie Badali, 19, and her friend Dorine Farsad, 18, said students who bring laptops to class are often surfing the Internet—and there's little professors can do.

"It's like high school all over again," Farsad said. "As much as a teacher will say please don't do it, they are just going to do it anyway."….

I’ve noticed that, in almost every one of my classes, some students—often, several students—concentrate on their laptops rather than on me or the discussion. That's new.

Plus there’s more droolage. I don’t wanna generalize though.

And then there’s cursing—and I don’t mean the fluffy & friendly kind—I'm talkin' the "B" word and the dreaded "C" word. And spitting—though that happens outside, mostly. And sneering. And sleeping. And talking on the phone.

And even rank air biscuitry. OK, what do you say or do when they do that? (Last Friday, in my honors class, flatulencia happened, evidently. It was ghastly. I moved the lectern ever southward, until I almost leaned out the doorway.)

—Tell us your “rude and crude” stories. We’d love to hear ‘em! Or tell us what you do about outbreaks of rudity and crudity in class. Inquiring minds wanna know.

(I hear that Saddleback students are way worse than IVC students. Is that true?)

P.S.: ONE OF OUR more clever readers sent us pictures of his favorite female icons to post on the blog (Audrey Hepburn, et al.), but I can't seem to open his attachment. In the meantime, here's one of my all-time BABEraham Lincolns:

She's just the BEST. Check out "Rid of Me."

Sunday evening with Sarah & Adam

Sarah insisted on climbing atop "Gilligan's Peak" so she could get a good look at "Vulture Crag" (in the middle, in the distance).

I call her "Uncle Sarah." She always corrects me.

Sarah & Adam's parents brought 'em to a pumpkin patch today. Hence the pumpkin-colored shirts. They've really got a thing about pumpkins. Can't get enough of 'em.

These are happy kids, boy. They're always making me give them "monkey rides." At the end of each ride, I'll put them down and then they'll say, "Again." They can't get enough of those monkey rides.

Sarah will break into song at the drop of a hat. She makes up her own words, too--just like her Uncle Chunk.