Readers with access to a university library can access this article through their university library account, but if we get requests to read it we will try to accommodate that by sending out pre-prints of the article to interested parties.
This article is the latest of a series of outputs, all of which can be seen here. It also foreshadows our next scheduled publication, which will compare the English, French and Spanish versions of Nadsat linguistically, using parallel translation corpora techniques. We’ve already introduced some of the findings here for those interested, and in a forthcoming post we’ll be looking specifically at the Spanish translation and its curious history.
Most of us are accustomed to thinking of Nadsat in one way only. After all, most of us only read the novel in one language, whether Burgess’s original, or else in one of the more than fifty extant translations. But of course, each of those translations represents a variant of Nadsat. Some languages have hosted multiple Nadsats, sometimes even by the same translator, as our colleague Patrick Corness has noted in relation to Robert Stiller’s multiple Polish-Nadsats.
So, we can think in terms of French-Nadsat, or German-Nadsat, or Spanish-Nadsat, and depending on the language, sometimes multiple variants thereof. Thankfully from the point of view of comparing them, there is really only one French-Nadsat and one Spanish-Nadsat to date.
Burgess’s most substantial foray into invented languages was, curiously enough, not conducted for a novel. Ulam is a simplistic language with a slender grammar and limited lexis of terms. Nevertheless, unlike Nadsat or Easy Walker’s slang, it functions independently of English. As well it ought to, since it was intended to be a recreation of proto-Indo-European, the ur-language from which most of the tongues spoken from India and Iran to Ireland ultimately originated. In this sense it can be considered as a more fully realised development of the chanting which he had appended to his version of Oedipus.