Moominsummer Madness / Vaarallinen juhannus, by Tove Jansson

Moominsummer Madness and Vaarallinen juhannus ('Perilous Midsummer' - my translation!) are the same book, the first being the English translation, the other the Finnish. I've just read them together, in an exercise rather like that of a while ago when I read St Exupéry's Courrier Sud in French, English and Finnish. Note that while Tove Jansson was Finnish, she wrote in Swedish, and these two volumes are both translations of the original.

Some day I'd like to chat to some one who's familiar with the original Swedish, because just like with Courrier Sud, I'm fascinated by how much translators can render the style, the tone, the nuance etc of their texts. I would like to know if the rich vocabulary of the Finnish translation in particular accurately reflects Tove Jansson's in Swedish. I fully expect a yes to that, by the way. I have no doubt of her genius. These may be 'children's books', but they tick all the boxes you want for literary accomplishment. 

The dates of publication are interesting. Farlig midsommar (ie. the Swedish original) was published in 1954, and Moominsummer Madness, translated by Thomas Warburton, in 1955. By then the Moomins books were successful and popular and it's not hard to see why Ernest Benn Ltd would have been quick to put Warburton on to the job. But why - according to what I read here - did it take until 1957 for Vaarallinen juhannus, translated by Laila Järvinen, to appear in print? Maybe there was a lack of hurry, in that at the time Swedish speaking was still strong in Finland and there would have been an assumption that most Finns could read the original books? Finns still study Swedish at school, but I sense there isn't always great enthusiasm about that(!). But even so, surely no reason to delay? 

Perhaps the translator simply took her time. I found myself near-overwhelmed by the Finnish. Despite the fact that I have achieved a limited level of competence in reading in the language. I'm sure that both these editions evoke Jansson's own rich, complex and poetic language. That lyrical inclination is why so many different words are used even for such basic notions as falling or states of water/being in it. So many of the words defeated my reasonably comprehensive dictionary. Not only that, but online resources such as Google Translate which are pretty good these days. (For what it's worth, for challenging words I resort to Wiktionary and Wikisanakirja). Even then, it was frequently the case that the Finnish featured a form of a certain word which just isn't found nowadays. 

So, does that mean that we're victims of evolving changes in the language which have occurred over the last 60-70 years? 

A minor example which sticks in my mind, is a word which I still didn't understand even when I'd wrangled it into English (it wasn't clear from the context): corf. Do you know what one of those is? I must ask a fisherman friend if the word is still used. A corf turns out to be a box or similar container made out of slats or somesuch, designed to contain a fish underwater once caught, until the fisherman decides whether to release it or take it home.

I'm failing in my job of telling you about the story :)  In Moominsummer Madness, a volcano blows off, and causes a devastating flood to inundate Moomin Valley, forcing the Moomin family to float away, accompanied by the usual random odd mix of new characters. This is not the first time that floods have featured in the Moomin stories. Succeeding events cause Moomintroll and Snork Maiden to become separated from the others, Little Myy to disappear who knows where, and mystery as to the whereabouts of Snufkin (apologies to any readers for whom these names are meaningless!!) All have highly entertaining adventures. 

The heart of the story is the floating theatre which the family were able to escape in, and which eventually comes to rest at a sloping angle on a sandbank. It's continually comedic, because the family have absolutely no idea what a theatre is. They gradually explore it, from front stage to the mysterious corridors and rooms behind, which alternately baffle, delight, and frighten the various characters. Eventually, the theatre's cranky custodian appears, is little help at first, but once they get the idea, Moominpapa decides to write a play. The rest of the story involves the writing of this play, the dress rehearsal and the one and only performance. If you've ever dabbled in amateur theatricals, it's all very funny. There are plenty of pratfalls. Every participant has a different and generally self centred notion of what it's all about. There are wide gulfs between how they think they're doing, and the reality. They're somewhat stressed out, but this is a Moomins story, and as day follows night, everybody is happily brought back together at the end, back at Moomin Valley.

I loved this book.

In both English and Finnish.

It's one of the later books in the series, and while the earlier ones are gorgeous and heart warming, they veer towards the magical, while this one has much more of the real world in it. Crucially the Hemulens play a major part in almost every aspect of the story. I understood much better what the Hemulens are for Tove Jansson: they're the 'other' Finns, the hidebound ones, repressed, pedantic, officious, resistant to change, and obsessed with rules. They look exactly like the Moomins, the way she draws them (I may have forgotten to mention that Tove Jansson was a seriously great artist and illustrator), except for wearing uniforms or whatever as required. Jansson does humanise them, as she does all of her characters, but at the same time she doesn't change their basic nature. The end of the story does feature a sudden drama which is happily resolved, but there's a sad moment when a timid Hemulen who has enjoyed some never known before kindness is still unable to accept 'liberation' and returns to the Hemulic world. As for the Moomins, they're not perfect, but most readers would still want to live life like them, unjudged and unfettered by rules and regulations. One could see them as idealised anarchists. 

One of their latest companions is Whomper (English) / Homssu (Finnish), picked up when they're flooded out from a barn roof. He is handy as an outside observer of the Moomins, and after watching their random reactions to the incomprehensible features of their new floating home, he comments:

They're all so very unlike me. They have feelings and they see colours and hear sounds and whirl around, but what they feel and see and hear, and why they whirl doesn't concern them in the least.

Sounds like a formula for a blissful life to me!