I had a chance to go on the Shuan Tabatt show recently.
Just yesterday I was thinking, “I’ve just got to recover that fantastic quotation from the Joy Davidman Lewis biography I listened to on audio last year.” (The downside of audio books—and the reason I typically “read” only fiction and biography in audio format—is that I can’t take down quotations easily for future use.)
And then today Alan Jacobs comes through for me, quoting the very thing I was wanting to recover. It’s brilliant. Joy, later in life, describes the way she thought as a young, ardent materialist. I love the last line:
Men, I said, are only apes. Virtue is only custom. Life is only an electrochemical reaction. Love, art, and altruism are only sex. The universe is only matter. Matter is only energy. I forget what I said energy is only.
Everybody has an ultimate reference point, whether they’ve thought it out rigorously or not.
I’m being generous and hopeful with four stars; I love the idea of this KJV Reader’s Bible, and the the execution is both brilliant and deeply flawed at the same time.
Let’s start with the good.
Most importantly, this is a reader’s Bible: no chapter or verse numbers clutter the text. We get nicely paragraphed (though see “THE BAD” below), single-column text and a much smoother reading experience than most double-column, every-verse-a-paragraph settings of the KJV. I’m so glad this new reader-Bible fad—which I hope transitions into a lasting tradition—has reached the KJV (although this was done for the KJV in the 1930s, I happen to know). This is the best way to read the Bible, though to study it we still have, and ought to have, study editions with chapter and verse divisions, footnotes, cross-references, and lengthy notes. Reader’s Bibles complement study Bibles; they do not threaten to replace them.
2K/Denmark did the typesetting, and I know them personally. They do good work:
- The typeface for body text is well balanced between clarity, beauty, and spacing. It feels slightly compressed, but that helps the Bible avoid being massive.
- The printing includes the now fairly standard line-matching, so that lines of text on the back of a page don’t bleed through the space between lines on the front.
- The copy I received for review has a beautiful binding of reasonable quality and comes in a sturdy box.
But when a review has to praise the box in order to have sufficient bullet points under “the good,” you know “the bad” is coming.
The worst thing about this Bible is truly and gloriously bad: all proper nouns are split into syllables and given accents. So, yes, there may be some readers out there who need some help pronouncing Me-phib´-o-sheth or Ma-her´-sha-lal´-hash-baz´.
I have no idea what anyone was thinking. I strongly suspect no one was.
But who in the world needs help with “Je´-sus,” “Zi´-on,” or “Je-ru´-sa-lem”? The practice is needless, distracting, and ugly. Some genealogy pages in the OT look like somebody dropped black sprinkles all over them. I thought the whole point of reader’s editions was to get rid of visual clutter so readers could focus on reading. No explanation is given for the pronunciation helps, so I have no idea what anyone was thinking. I strongly suspect no one was. It’s that bad. (At least “God” and “Lord” are one syllable, or we’d be in a truly impossible mess.)
The setting of the Psalms is another terrible problem. Each psalm is one big, fat paragraph. No poetic indents. No numbering of the psalms (the way other reader’s editions do).
Reading the Psalms this way—though, thankfully, Psalm 119 is divvied up according to stanzas: one paragraph per stanza—reminds me why I prefer the conventions of indentation most modern Bible editions use for the Psalms. The paragraph format in this new KJV reader’s Bible makes the psalmists feel like choppy writers. The reason my favorite method of settings the psalms is still the one chosen by The Books of the Bible is that there really is a small pause built into every parallelism: right after the parallel lines, you’re supposed to stop for a tiny moment before moving on. A paragraph, however, induces you to keep moving till the end of the thought, the end of the paragraph—only it isn’t the end of the thought. A good psalm setting uses our modern typographical conventions to uncover seams of argument in the psalms. This settings smudges them all out.
Also, I personally found the textual decorations odd. The whole Bible looks classic, so it should remain so. Half-tone minimalist rectangular design elements don’t belong.
I think this Bible is easily fixable, and that a second edition ought to come out soon. Meanwhile, KJV users do have a serviceable reader’s edition, and that’s a step in the right direction.
Posted by permission and with slight editing from both parties.
I just noted your upcoming column on deity pronouns. My only beef with it is that it seems to me to set up a straw man and completely ignores a stronger and more pertinent argument. I’m sure there are people who argue for capitalization on the grounds of tradition and respect; I just don’t know any (as far as I’m aware). My argument is clarity, pure and simple. That clarity extends not only to our writing about God, but also to the biblical text itself.
You gave an example in your column; so shall I: Beyond Suffering, ch. 10, endnote 45 (p. 315). Here it is in a nutshell as I should have written it:
Carson interprets [Job] 9:30–31 as a plural reference to Job’s friends. “No matter how pure he is, his friends would find him impure: their position demands it” (p. 164). But this reading is foreign to the immediate context and grammar; the pronoun is singular. Job has been talking about God since 9:2; he appears to be speaking to God in exactly the same vein, beginning at least in 9:27 (note 9:28). In 9:30–31, then, Job refers to God’s apparent determination to treat him like one of the guilty wicked. A survey of over a dozen commentators produced none that supported Carson’s interpretation. Rowley (p. 99) mentions but rejects the textual emendation of Duhm and Lagarde to produce the meaning “my friends.” Job uses the second person plural pronoun whenever he is speaking to the friends but seems to reserve the second person singular pronoun for his frequent and frank interchanges with God.“
Perhaps Carson was glancing at one of those non-capitalizing modern translations (ESV, NET, NIV) when he made his comment. Like most Bible readers, he probably wasn’t looking at the Hebrew, or even the KJV (which, though it does not capitalize, nevertheless employs the Elizabethan distinction between a sing. and pl. second-person pronoun). Nor, for that matter, was he probably looking at NKJV, NASB, or HCSB which do capitalize—not so the average reader may reverence the pronoun, but so that he is alerted to what’s actually going on in the text (which is sort of the point of a text in the first place…except for poets, postmodernists, and Barth =).
It’s similar (indeed, in my example, connected) to the sing. vs. pl. second-person pronoun issue; but then, I know we disagree about that, too. So my purpose in writing is not to try to convince you on the capitalization issue; but it is to perhaps persuade you to at least address the clarity argument the next time you bash us Deity Capitalizers. =)
For the love of words, affectionately,
Layton Talbert, PhD Professor of Theology & Biblical Exposition
I finally got a chance to wrap my mind around this…
And here’s what I’d say: the benefits of my approach outweigh this admitted detriment. I’d prefer for translators to use options that don’t feel like weird, specialized English. So in this case, I’d recommend a footnote. If translators feel that the number of the pronoun (namely singular) should be called out, they could do it with a note.
Ever since I came to Logos and started writing about whatever interested me, I noticed that what interested me was often generated by my experiences ministering in the neighborhoods around Mount Calvary. I see specialized English like all caps LORD (which I’m not on a crusade against, but which I now realize violates the principle I’m enunciating) and capitalized deity pronouns and small-caps OT quotes (NASB) as unnecessary burdens on poor readers, like the people I taught for a decade in NBC.
More importantly, however, I’ve been trying for years to refine my sense of what feels natural to educated readers and writers of English, to strip out rules that are merely fussy and pedantic and not genuinely helpful for communication. And I think capitalized deity pronouns are fussy and not helpful. Contemporary evangelical books have mostly dropped the practice, and the editors at all those houses constitute a plebiscite of sorts supporting my position. It’s their sense, too, that the caps on deity pronouns feel like emphasis or shouting (or Emily Dickinson? =). If we’re going to take seriously both poles of the translation task, base language and target language, we need to be just as wary of messing with the latter as we are with messing with the former.
However, I’ll backtrack one important step: we have multiple translations and multiple kinds of editions (study editions and readers editions being the main two categories in my mind, with many subcategories, especially among study editions). Why not let the NASB go all Bible-code and give us all those specialized pieces of typographical interpretive shorthand, but let the NIV and ESV and CSB be written in more natural English? I already use the NASB that way for those NT quotations of the OT (even though that, too, requires interpretation and isn’t always clear).
Now, do we disagree about distinguishing the number of second person pronouns? You think we ought to retain something like thou vs. you?
“Thou” and “you,” no; manifestly not. Nor would I even suggest “you” vs. “y’all” (though I’m reasonably certain Southerners didn’t create or perpetuate that distinction because it’s cute). If, however, (a) the difference between “you [sing.]” and “you [pl]” was instantly apparent to the original readers from the very grammar of the original text, and (b) that distinction is not infrequently significant for accurate interpretation and understanding, especially in texts where the context simply does not otherwise clarify the intended referent, then it seems to me that accurate translation (that is concerned with the target’s accurate understanding) into a language that does not readily have such distinctions could/should devise some unobtrusive means of preserving that distinction that is, in fact, part of the original text—at least in places where that distinction is not otherwise signaled by the context. Whether that’s an asterisk on the plural forms of the pronoun, or (as you suggest) a footnote—the precise demarcation may be debated. The argument that the modern translations are good specifically because they rescue the Bible from the archaic “thee’s and thou’s” is, imo, short-sighted, and demonstrates an ignorance of the significance of those very “thee’s and thou’s” for sometimes being the key to accurate understanding of the text. (My favorite example of this is Luke 22:31-32.)
So, no, I wouldn’t argue for preserving outmoded or unnatural language; but I would argue for using very common tools at our disposal in order to perpetuate a more accurately understood translation—just on the textual level. (If even a D. A. Carson misconstrues a text because of this very thing, where does that leave the rest of us! =) Especially when the difference on the linguistic level makes a palpable difference on the interpretational, theological, and applicational levels.
I don’t dispute (a), but I do dispute an idea I think is implicit in your reasoning: that we should never remain satisfied with a situation in which base and target languages differ structurally to such a degree that some linguistic information just doesn’t get transferred. Gender, rhymes and other word-plays (like the alliteration of alpha privatives in one vice list I can think of), and other things can’t be transferred, or only clumsily and in special cases (“faithless, heartless, ruthless,” for example, nicely picks up those privatives by making them suffixes instead of prefixes). But if you’re right (b) that the number distinction in second-person pronouns is not infrequently significant for interpretation, especially in contexts which don’t provide enough information to make a right interpretation, then it’s worth looking at ways to solve that problem. I think, however, that this calls for a doctoral student somewhere to go through the Bible and tell us how often this occurs. My impression is that it is not frequent, that mandating an asterisk (or some other universal code, like LORD for YHWH) would distract much more often than it would help. (My impression is strengthened by the fact that English gets along just fine without a you vs. y’all distinction—in most regions. =) I still think the best way forward would be to let translators and interpreters work together with that (BJU?) doctoral student to discover the places in the Bible where a footnote is needed to clarify that a given second person pronoun is plural or singular. Your example from Job 9 is a good one.
So the question is: how palpable, how frequent is the need for pronoun clarification that the context doesn’t already provide?
And I’m still liking my idea of relegating all those special codes to the NASB…
Good points, and a philosophy more consistently thought-through and applied than mine—though I think you overstate (or overextend) the idea implicit in my reasoning. Though they may add a level of interest and edge to one’s understanding, I suspect rhymes and wordplays are rarely if ever crucial to accurate interpretation (though I could be wrong; clearly you’ve thought about this way more than I have). However, I also suspect I need to drop the “not” on “not infrequently.” The impact of pronoun-number on interpretation is certainly hermeneutically significant, but considering the occasions when the context is ambiguous and pronoun-number alone is determinative for accurate meaning, “frequent” is probably not a justifiable modifier.
Looks like we both overstated our cases… I really do wonder if a PhD student at BJU could help us state them correctly. Title: Translational Trade-Offs. Thesis: The best set of trade-offs for a literal translation is this list; the best set of trade-offs for a dynamic translation is this one. A whole chapter could be dedicated to listing out (and briefly arguing for) the passages in the Bible in which a footnote is likely to be needed to clarify the number of the second-person pronouns. This could be a help to translators, so they don’t have to reinvent the wheel every time. (A little research with translation consultants could also surface similar characteristic problems that occur when translating into non-Indo-European languages.)
And I’ve got a radical idea I’ve never heard anyone else float, certainly not among conservatives: might it be possible for Wycliffe and Bibles International to serve complementary purposes? That is, couldn’t a maturing Christian church use two translations, each pushing toward a diffferent end of the literal-to-dynamic continuum? If a Bible translation is both the Word of God (in one sense) and (in another) a tool for understanding the words of God, why have only one? I proposed this to a Bible translator friend and he isn’t yet convinced. But I’ll work on him.
In natural languages, there are many variations in grammar, style, and accent. Grammarians tend to elevate one group of variations as a standard. So the predominant speech in Berlin is considered to be “good German.” The predominant speech of Amsterdam is “good Dutch,” and so on. There may be some value in this as a means of encouraging uniformity of language in public writing and speech. But it is somewhat arbitrary. We need to remember that it comes from human grammarians, not from divine revelation. No divine norm requires us to speak in what grammarians may describe as “good” language. God never tells us to speak the language of the academic elite, or to disparage variations from that language as “errors.”
—Doctrine of the Word of God
The very idea that grammatical “mistakes” eternally tempt the unwary is the spawn of three illusions that seduced these bewigged martinets.… The second was that when a grammar changes, it must be decaying rather than just, say, changing. So we were taught to lasso and hold on to whom, though at the time it was fading from English just like all the other words and constructions that differentiated Modern English from Old English—a foreign tongue to us that none of us feel deprived not speaking. (15–16)
Important: my argument is not that people need not be taught standard English in school; they do and likely always will. My point is more specific: the casual speech constructions that we use alongside standard English, that we are taught, are illogical; wrong, and mistakes, are in reality just alternates that happen not to have been granted social cachet. (17)
—Doing Our Own Thing: The Degradation of Language and Music and Why We Should, Like, Care
Note: John and John (and I) are not saying that people should flout the social conventions we call “Standard American English” (or the ones we call “Standard Malay” or the ones we call “Standard Urdu”), anymore than we’d instruct kids to put their elbows on the table or men to wear hats at a nice restaurant. We’re only saying that Standard English is a convention, not a delivery from on high—and that that realization will change the way we think and talk about language. The kind of person who purposefully flouts any of the conventions I’ve just named is perhaps rightly (I’d have to know the full circumstances) considered gauche. But the person who never learned the conventions is not thereby proven to be morally deficient. And—and this is the real key—the conventions can and will change over time, and (especially in language) such change is not necessarily a sign of degradation, just difference.