Don Bartolomé de Alva Ixtlilxóchitl, a Mexican diocesan priest of Spanish and noble Nahua ancestry, translated three plays from the Spanish baroque in the early 1640s. Due to his multiple positionalities – priest, translator, author – Alva has been understood as “in-between” distinct polarities. This understanding of Alva makes him relevant for examining sources and influences in proto-Latinx writing, including his way of dealing with language. This chapter analyzes Alva’s Nahuatl translation of Antonio Mira de Amescua’s El animal profeta y dichoso patricida, to argue that Alva is not “in-between” polarities, but rather is a cultural mediator that created and managed new contexts. Hence, Alva is a co-creator, not mere translator, who managed to reach two distinct audiences, Jesuit priest and Nahua elite, in one coherent text. He makes use of his positionalities, particularly in his portrayal of free will, strategically and intentionally to exercise his position of power as a priest and noble Nahua. Finally, his role as mediator contributes to the Latinx archive, providing an alternative to Gloria Anzaldúa’s notion of “nepantla.” Instead, the process of “malinalli” in Aztec metaphysics becomes another way of conceptualizing a mixing together. This is exemplified in his process of translation.

I explore the question of equivalences or identifications between Virgil’s characters and events and the translators’ own times. In Part 1, I consider how translators invite readers to make identifications between present-day monarchs and Virgilian figures such as Aeneas and Dido, then how some translators appear to identify with aspects of Aeneas and Meliboeus. In Part 2, I address the phenomenon whereby particular translators and cultures respond to Virgil as if he were addressing them specifically and personally, with examples drawn from Polish and Irish literature. In Part 3, I discuss poet-translators’ self-identification with Virgil himself and the implication that they are writing for their equivalent of Augustus. Finally, I move to the phenomenon of ‘transcreation’ or metempsychosis, whereby the poet-translator claims to channel Virgil, and I conclude with translators’ claims to make Virgil speak their own vernacular, taking Dryden as my case study.

‘Indian Ibsens’ demonstrates how Ibsen’s oeuvre inflected the Indian stage as it moved from its traditional corpus of mythological, historical and musical drama to a theatre of social realism and revolutionary individualism that challenged the entrenched orthodoxies of an ancient civilization. Tracing the evolution of the reception of Ibsen separately for southern, western and eastern Indian theatre from the 1920s onwards, this chapter reveals some significant trajectories: first, that the dominance of the realistic plays of Ibsen’s middle period gave way from the 1970s to interest in the complex symbolism of his later work; and secondly, that the adaptations move through three distinct phases: translation (with Indian names and locales), transculturation in terms of local imperatives, and finally, radical transcreation where Ibsen is transported to the tropics by way of indigenous performance protocols of dance, music, mime and myth. In addition, the chapter briefly chronicles Ibsen’s impact on Indian fiction and film, in the Indian university system through literature and gender studies courses, and among Indian NGOs vying for the prestigious Ibsen Award using an Ibsen play for grassroots social empowerment. India is presented as the repository of one on the richest Ibsen archives available today.

This chapter investigates the various ways in which operettas were changed as they transferred from one social-cultural context to another. It was never a case of merely translating the German book and lyrics; it was necessary to capture the cultural meanings and emotional nuances that resist direct translation, enabling them to be recognized in a new context. The remapping of a scene onto a locally known place that would conjure up similar associations to those that were culturally familiar to the former audience was part of transcreation. It was an important means of reproducing similar pleasure and understanding. Sometimes a new version departed radically from its German stage version, but the fact that such adaptations usually affected only the scenes and dialogue indicates the lack of any sense of perplexity about musical style. The chapter includes a comparative study of The Merry Widow and the French play of 1861 on which it was based, and the considers the notion of an English language operetta production ‘improving’ on a previous Continental European production.

It was, above all, the romantic melodies and rich harmonic textures of operetta that attracted British and American audiences. The music of operetta occupied a number of positions between popular musical theatre and opera. Dance rhythms formed an important part of the style of every operetta composer. American influence on German operetta had its source in the music-making of African Americans in the period just before the jazz craze of the 1920s. There was delight in mixing musical styles, and it is common to find Austro-German, Hungarian, and American styles in the same piece. While operettas with modern themes were increasingly characterized by syncopated rhythms in the 1920s, those with exotic themes were spiced up with augmented intervals, modal harmony, and ostinato rhythms. Most operetta composers in Vienna and Berlin were happy to have the help of orchestrators. Orchestrators were also on hand for New York productions.