Pour ou Contre (For or Against)

Translator Jean-Loup Combemale takes on the Red Duchess

Suzanne Stroh: Jean-Loup, you were born in France, raised in Paris, escaped Nazi occupation through north Africa, grew up in New York, came of age at the U.S. Naval Academy and spent much of your career in a submarine before turning to editing and publishing. How many languages did you pick up along the way?

Jean-Loup Combemale: I think the operative words here are “pick up.” I was five, six, seven years old when we were scurrying around leaving France, so I got dipped into languages and pulled right back out. What it did was, even then, show me how much fun it was to talk and connect to people–that’s a great gift to give a child. I learned Italian and French from my nanny and my mother; basic German from soldiers in the streets of Paris, Arabic from street kids in Oran and Casablanca. When our Portuguese ship stopped in Bermuda on the way to the U.S. I learned my first words of English–“Thank you.”  And when we got to the U.S. I learned English and promptly forgot everything except my French, which we spoke at home.

That’s six right there. How many can you remember?

At this point, I am fluent enough in English and French to argue with editors and authors.  I can get along in Italian and Spanish–which I picked up along the way–but the interesting thing is how quickly I feel comfortable in a completely new language after learning only a few words. Over the years, that has done wonders for my social life around the world.

Natalie and Lily would approve. Like you, they were both so comfortable in their own skin. But in your wildest dreams, did you ever think you would be helping me translate Proustiana, lesbian love letters and secret marriage contracts from 1918?

Define wildest dreams. They are all so wound up in the minutia of history, and their details are so fascinating, that they draw me in.

It’s a lost world. Do you find the work interesting?

They are in a lost world because no one has brought them out into the limelight until now. Connecting them into the mainstream is what is interesting.

In our love affair with French food, fashion and culture, we Americans think we understand the French. How delusional is that?

It’s not delusional, it’s simply one-dimensional. Also it is not unique–I spend just as much time in discussions explaining the U.S. to Europeans.

Our sterling subject, Lily de Gramont, is a bit uppity. I find her alluring, exasperating and inspirational. If you could ask her one question, what would it be? If you could uncover one mysterious thing about her, what would that be?

I would love to have a real political discussion with her. I can’t decide if her convictions were those of someone “for” something or just a reaction to “the other side,” the one she found arrogant and reactionary. My godmother, Claude Alphand, who was married to a French ambassador, once told me that for someone rich, not to be a socialist was immoral. I would love to know if Lily agreed with her.

Your family lived in the same quarter of Paris as Lily, and when you were a child so did you. Tell us about your boyhood memories of that neighborhood.

All I can remember is that those who lived there considered the area to be the best address in Paris–at least so I was frequently told.

Back then, what impression would a duchess have made on a boy your age?

I don’t think titles are as impressive to children as they are to their parents. When we were on vacation at Portofino, I was apparently given some grapes by the Duke of Windsor. I don’t remember it, but my grandmother spoke of it for years.

And you knew Lily’s nephew when you were young. Sanche de Gramont. He ended up renouncing his title to become an American citizen, right? Can you see a family resemblance there?

I think they both did exactly what they wanted in life, did what they thought was right. Sanche–or I should say Ted Morgan–is a talented journalist and had a career that gave him options. Speculate on what Lily might have done on the world if she had the same options.

Your godmother’s sister lived at 12 rue Jacob. That’s only a few doors down from Natalie’s place. What do you remember about the street? How has it changed?

It’s always been very much part of the Left Bank, very sought after by artists and those who loved the atmosphere they created. My godmother’s sister, Jeannine Raynaud, was a songwriter, and for her it was the perfect place to be. Today, I don’t know if it still has the same cachet or if it has become more touristic, as has much of that part of Paris.

Our work with Élisabeth’s biography takes us from the Parisian drawing rooms of the Belle Époque, to the demimonde of the interwar period, through the Roaring Twenties and past World War II. Lily wrote four popular volumes of memoirs about all these periods. She was always in the throb of life. Yet she scolded Dolly Wilde for tutoieing her in public. And she never met a subjunctive tense she didn’t like. Was French spoken differently?

Like all languages, French has evolved towards the less formal, but probably less so than many other languages. The French spoken by Lily and her contemporaries is still current.

If you could ask Miss Barney one question, what would it be?

“What are the three things that you would have changed in America, if you had been able to wave a magic wand when you were young?”

We’re giving away signed copies of Francesco’s novel today. I think my favorite scene is when Natalie’s lovers, Lily and Romaine, are forced into a very uneasy truce. The writing is so spare and witty. It’s what isn’t said that resonates, more than what is spoken. Francesco gives us everything in a look, a gesture. What’s your favorite part?

Throughout the book I am fascinated with how well the time, the period and the mores are used to set the scene. They are so well interwoven that they support everything that is said and done without ever being obtrusive. It will be a fun translation once we finish Lily off.

While I work my way through Lily’s biography, you will be translating his new book about the Moulin Rouge on your own. Plus his biography of Damia, the Beryl Markham (or maybe the Marlene Dietrich) of French torch singers–speaking purely in terms of sexual appetite.

One of the greatest advantages–joys even–of translating is the wide variety of subjects to which you have access. The more challenging the subject, the more interesting it becomes to render its spirit into another language.

We’ve got our work cut out for us, that’s for sure. But how many teams get to tackle such a varied oeuvre?

Crisis intervention and rapid response disaster teams come to mind.

[Laughing.] All these female personalities are so strong. French journalist Jean Chalon, who spent a decade of Wednesday afternoons with Natalie Barney, wondered if he had become a lesbian as a result. Is your wife worried this work will turn you Sapphic?

It’s never come up, but my guess is she isn’t worried.

Well at least let’s have the time of our lives while we’re at it.

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After retirement from the U.S. Navy, jean-loup Combemale worked in international publishing. He was the founder and editor-in-chief of the monthly Journal of Defense and Diplomacy and is a specialist in French defense technology. His foreign language consultancy also offers French-English translation service. Recently, Jean-Loup has edited Chelsea Ray’s translation of the novel Amants féminins ou la troisième by Natalie Clifford Barney. He is currently editing Suzanne Stroh’s translation of Élisabeth de Gramont: avant-gardiste.