Indiana Jones Jr et le Violon du Metropolitan - Translation
 

Chapter 1

Coup de Theatre Utah, September 1913, A rainy day.

“Junior, pack your bags. We leave for New York. “
This announcement had the effect of a cold effect of a shower on the young Indiana Jones.

“What! ... But Dad, we’re back at school! "

Professor Jones, still in his dressing gown, swept the objection out of hand.

“I am invited to the inauguration of the south wing of the Metropolitan Museum, "he explained, waving a crumpled letter." Edwards, the curator, wants to thank me for my contribution to it's collection of medieval art. I cannot refuse."

Indy pouted. He had lived a rather hectic summer. In Egypt, he had to face an evil germ by narrowly escaped the bubonic plague. A few weeks later, in Georgia, he had snatched Princess Tamar from the jaws of her many enemies.

Dr. Jones seemed to forget it was a lot for one boy!

Take the opportunity to study an illuminated manuscript of the tenth century to the Pierpont Morgan Library read the letter. A manuscript of the tenth century! “You realize you, Junior? It has been years that I have awaited the opportunity to decipher.

As if he could not be convinced of this windfall he re-read the famous letter for the twentieth time.

“Who is the Pierpont Morgan?” Indy asked, feigning interest in his father’s project.

“A wise financier”, said Professor solemnly. “An exceptional man, who was able to use his wealth to preserve some of the greatest treasures of this world, nothing to do with the sharks on Wall Street “

“But they do not live in a paradise! " emphasised the professor." I predict that one day not so long away, they will suffer a resounding crash and lose everything! Do you hear me? Everything”

Satisfied with this words, Professor Jones sank into his chair glossy, unworthy of even that in the local museum. For several minutes later, the tom-tom of the drops on the windows had been amplified. At three inches from Indy’s nose, his father was waving a piece of paper in frenzy.

In the garden, Indiana barked hopelessly: he had been left outside all the night and they had forgotten to give him his BREAKFAST to him. However, the weather was good.In short, the day began badly. Indy wondered if he was not going through a waking nightmare.

"... But Dad’, the Indy insisted, stunned. ‘Usually, you do not want me to go with you. You do not take me that if you cannot do otherwise. So why?

"Why? Why?" raged the professor. "Always questions! Always reproach! I thought that you would be content, Junior. You always want to accompany me…”

Again, Henry Jones lost his cool in the presence of his son. Yet he vowed to be patient, to show kindness. But nothing was done: before the inquisitive eyes of Indy, he lost his means. To win, he raised his voice.

He was always so since the death of his wife, Anna, a year earlier. Eyes hidden behind his glasses, Henry Jones looked at the son who was for him the greatest of mysteries. He who was able to decipher old manuscripts of ten centuries, but was unable to understand what was going on in the head of his own son!

"Well, Junior ... um ... um ... it's just that ...", he stammered.

Experiencing a profound embarrassment, the Professor did not finish his sentence. It was Indy's inquisitive glance that stopped him.

"It's just ... What, Dad?"

Henry Jones hung his head.

For a few seconds, nothing was heard in the office other than the din of raindrops and the barking of Indiana.

Gathering all his courage to father, the professor chose to confess: "Well, it's just that. . . I would have liked to see me by your side during your adventure in Georgia. I think you've behaved like a true hero. Meanwhile, I studied a dusty manuscript in Armenia. "

He paused, giving him time to wipe his fogged up glasses.

"Look, Junior, I sometimes wonder if you have no more sense than me. Yes ... um ... more sense."

Flabbergasted, Indy shook to make sure he was not dreaming. Was it his father who addressed him in these terms? He who often regarded with contempt had no interest in reprimanding him?

One that has persisted to call him " unior" a nickname he hated? Is this the same father who was before him?

"But ... Dad, it's just that ..."

"It’s just ... what, Junior?"

"Well, um ... I'm a little tired after all these adventures. Egypt, Georgia, I have not stopped a second! "

The Professor opened his round eyes.

"But you are young, damn it!” he cried. “Ah, if I was your age, I would have otherwise spend my days with my nose poring over tomes! I ... I ...”

"What would you do, Dad?" interrupted Indy with a touch of insolence in his voice. Unable to answer this question, Henry's Jones drew a pirouette.

"Since you do not want to accompany me I will go alone in New York!" He declaimed in a theatrical tone. Then he turned on his heel and left leaving the kitchen door open where Indiana, who had been stubbornly waiting, claimed his breakfast.

Hi, JuniorJones.:hat: Nice to see this thread but I was planning on translating this one after I finished with the "Grimoire Maudit" comic.

The only 2 rare French Young Indy books I have are this one and "Fantôme du Klondike" (which Icybro already translated here). Since I've already started "Violon", would it be possible for you to work on another title? If not, maybe we can collaborate and split the work.

Great. This is a book I've always wanted to see translated so I am more than happy to step aside.

I've got quite a lot of things outstanding on the Raven, that includes orgainising the translating of La Cazadora de Indiana Jones and El Dorado. (Also, not withstanding animation and comic projects!!)

I'll concentrate on La Cazadora de Indiana Jones as I've, hopefully, got German support on Eldorado. After Cazadora I will do Indiana Jones Jr et la Météorite Sacrée.

Stoo, once you pull your finger out and do "Violon", I will release the below...but not until yours is done!!

Cor blimey! That's bleedin' BLACKMAIL!:eek:

Nice job on the cover, JJ. You could do the "Violon" cover while I work on the translating the text. (Guess who will finish first?:p)

What is cool about the "Météorite Sacrée" cover is that it gives us a glimpse into one of the unproduced Young Indy episodes (even though it's a different story). Indy goes to Alaska in 1921 and, among other things, learns how to drive a dog-sled team. Because of that, he then decides to adopt a whip as a permanent part of his gear.:whip:

Once I have Nurachi...


Me...

JuniorJones, you are on fire with those covers! Do you prefer "Indiana Jones Jr." to "Young Indiana Jones" in the translated title, though?

Indiana Jones Jr. just seems wrong to me... There's no Indiana Jones Sr., after all. :confused:

Your right but I feel by leaving the Indiana Jones Jr in place it gives a nice nod to the original source.

Interesting that these comics used "junior" in the title, given that YIJ is called 'Les Aventures du jeune Indiana Jones' in French, i.e. "~ young Indiana Jones".

I appreciate the nod to the original source material, but personally, I think for a translated work, using "Young Indiana Jones" would be quite legitimate and bring all English publications/namings in line.

Again, I think your right and it was just a personal choice of design.

However, it may have been a conscious decision on behalf of the pubishers to have "Indiana Jones Jr" rather than "Jeune Indiana Jones" simply an aesthetic or commerical premies.

Prehaps they wanted Indy to be "Hip"!

Maybe like James Bond Jr. which ran at that time on French television?

Yes, it makes sense and it comes within that timeframe.

Icybro, I agree on not using the 'Indiana Jones Jr.' name. Also, on your "Bermuda Triangle" cover you matched the font of the original and kept the authour's name in black. If JuniorJones feels up to it, maybe he can follow suit.

"Bibliothèque Verte" means "Green Library". It wouldn't really be proper to change the name of the Hachette collection so it's good that you & Junior left it as is.:)
There certainly was a rash of "Jr." things around that time. I even recall that there was a "Muppet Babies" show!

I remember watching the Muppet Babies show, and never understood the logic behind it. I just did not find that babies household thing believable: How come that all these muppet babies stay together for their entire life, and then - when grown up - open that theatre company? I mean, how stagnating and incestouos a characterisation for these clearly clever (grown-up) muppets is that?

Moedred. Can you merge all the Indiana Jones Jr threads. Ta

Why, JuniorJones? I don't understand why they should all be merged.:confused: The Bantam novels have their own threads, why not these?:confused:

Why? Was it me talking about "stagnating and incestouos muppets" earlier on? Did I break the house rules regarding buffoonish muppetry? :p

Why? The evil within told me so!!

Actually, I wasn't very clear what I mean't. I was thinking more of the translating side of the Indiana Jones Jr books rather than the books themselves. I was jumping around from thread to thread for different books it seemed easier to have them in one place.

Maybe a updated sticky for progress.


You made Fozzie cry. Is that not enough?! Waka, Waka.

Combining the translations into one thread would get confusing if more than one book was worked on at the same time.

That said, I'm currently doing Chapter 2 of "Violon du Metropolitan" but noticed some mistakes & missing bits from your translation of Chapter 1. Before I post Ch. 2, I'd like to re-post #1 with the fixes. Yes? No?

Prehaps a new section?


Knock yourself out as I am always in need of a proof reader!! So, yes!:up:

Chapter 1 (Fixed)
 

Young Indiana Jones and the Metropolitan’s Violin

by Jérôme Jacobs
English translation by Stoo

____
Chapter 1

A Dramatic Turn of Events

Utah, September 1913, a rainy day.
       “Junior, pack your bags. We’re leaving for New York.”
       This announcement had the effect of a cold shower on the young
Indiana Jones.
       “What?! But...Father, classes are starting again!”
       Professor Jones, still in his night robe, halted this objection with a
show of his hand.
       “I am invited to the inauguration of the Metropolitan Museum’s
south wing,” he explained brandishing a crumpled letter. “Edwards,
the curator, is thanking me for my contribution to the museum’s
medieval art collection. I cannot refuse.”
       Indy pouted. He had lived a rather hectic summer. In Egypt, he
had faced an evil gemstone and he narrowly escaped the bubonic
plague.1
       A few weeks later, in Georgia, he had snatched the princess Tamar
from the clutches of her many enemies.2
       That is a lot for one man alone, Professor Jones seemed to forget!

1. See Young Indiana Jones and the Tomb of Terror.
2. See Young Indiana Jones and the Princess of Peril.

       “I will also take the opportunity to go study an illuminated
manuscript from the Xth century at the Pierpont Morgan library,” he
resumed. “A Xth century manuscript! Do you realize, Junior? It has
been years since I’ve been waiting for the chance to decipher it.”
       And he re-read the famous letter for the twentieth time, as if he
could not convince himself of this windfall.
       “Who is this Pierpont Morgan?” asked Indy, feigning interest in his
father’s project.
       “A wise businessman,” explained the professor solemnly. “An
exceptional man, who was able to use his wealth to preserve some of
the greatest treasures of the world. He has nothing to do with the
sharks on Wall Street!”
       Indy sighed. In Russia, his father had criticized the Bolsheviks. In
the United States, he attacked the capitalists. A question of latitude…
       “But they will not prevail in paradise!” the professor continued
with emphasis. “I predict that one day not too far off, they will be
victims of a resounding crash and will lose everything! Did you hear
me? EVERYTHING!”
       Satisfied with this lyrical outpour, Professor Jones sank into his
glossy armchair, unworthy to appear even in the local museum.


       For a few minutes, the pitter-patter of raindrops on the windows
grew louder.
       One inch from Indy’s nose, his father, bristly, shook a piece of
paper with frenzy.
       In the garden, Indiana barked desperately: He had been left
outside all night and they even forgot to serve him his breakfast.
However, it was a dog’s life!
       In short, the day was beginning badly. Indy asked himself if he
wasn’t going through a living nightmare.
       “But...Father,” insisted the young boy, stunned. “Usually, you
don’t want me to go with you. You wouldn’t bring me if you could
do otherwise. So, why…?”
       “Why? Why?” raged the professor. “Always questions! Always
reproach! I thought you would be happy, Junior. You always move
heaven and earth to accompany me…”
       Once again, Henry Jones had lost his cool in the presence of his
son. However, he had vowed to be patient, to show kindness. But
regardless: Before the inquisitive eyes of Indy, he had lost his
manners. To win, he raised his voice.
       He was always this way since the death of his wife, Anna, a year
earlier.
       Eyes hidden behind worn-out glasses, Henry Jones stared at the
son who was, for him, the greatest of mysteries. He, who managed to
decipher ten-century-old manuscripts, was incapable of understanding
what went on in the head of his own son! That was
the last straw!
       “Well, Junior…um…it’s just that…um…” he stammered.
       Prey to a profound embarrassment, the professor did not finish his
sentence.
       It was Indy's turn to contemplate him with a curious glance.
       “It’s just that…what, Father?”
       Henry Jones hung his head.
       For a few seconds, nothing was heard in the office other than the
bustle of raindrops and Indiana’s barking.
       Gathering all of his fatherly courage, the professor was then
resolved to confess:
       “Well, it’s just that…I would have liked to found myself by your
side during your adventure in Georgia. I think you behaved as a true
hero. Meanwhile, I was studying a dusty manuscript in Armenia…”
       He paused for a break, it was time to wipe his foggy glasses.
       “You see, Junior, I sometimes wonder if you have more common
sense than me. Yes…um…more common sense.”
       Flabbergasted, Indy pinched himself to make sure he was not
dreaming. Was it really his father who had addressed him in these
terms?
       He, who often regarded him with contempt, who had no interest in
him other than to reprimand?
       He, who forced him to swallow pages and pages of Latin?
       He, who had persisted in calling him “Junior”, a hated nickname?
       Was this the same father who was there before him?
       “But…Father, it’s just that…”
       “It’s just that…what, Junior?”
       “Well, um…I’m a little tired after all those adventures. Egypt,
Georgia, I haven’t stopped for a second!”
       The professor opened his round eyes.
       “But you are young, damn it!” he cried. “Ah, if I was your age, I
would have otherwise spent my days with my nose poring over
books! I…I…”
       "What would you do, Father?" Indy interrupted with a touch of
insolence in his voice.
       Unable to answer this question, Henry Jones disengaged from the
conversation with a spin.
       "Since you do not wish to accompany me, I will go to New York
alone!" he lectured in a theatrical tone.
       Then he turned on his heels and went to open the door from the
kitchen for Indiana, who claimed his breakfast with obstinacy.
____

Yay! A start...

Chapter 2
 

Chapter 2

Best Friends in the World

       Morning passed without the father and son exchanging another
word.
       The professor busied about in his room, scattering shirts and socks
on his bed before throwing them haphazardly into his suitcase.
       Indy, on the other hand, had gone to visit his friend Herman, who
had just gotten over a case of the “stinking” measles, according to the
words of the doctor himself.
       “You know what, Hermie? My father wants me to go with him to
New York just before classes start. Incredible, isn’t it?”
       His mouth full, as usual, Herman responded with a doubtful
grunt.
       “Frankly,” continued Indy, “I’m hoping for a little rest. I spent all
summer running around the world.”
       “Munch…munch…munch…”
       “Even then, you don’t know everything! Imagine he finally
realized that I had more common sense than him! It’s amazing… Yes,
indeed, I find it very strange right now.”
       Herman, nicknamed “Fatso” by his classmates, nodded his chubby
head back and forth from top to bottom and bottom to top.
       “If you want my opinion…munch…munch…you should
go…munch…munch…” he advised between two mouthfuls of a
chicken sandwich, a bologna, cold roast beef and cheese.
       “Why so?” asked Indy.
       “You don’t understand?…Your father took a step towards you. He
probably thinks that it’s obvious he has been…munch…munch…too
hard on you. So, he wants to make peace. He wants to prove how
much you… munch…munch…count in his eyes.”
       Indy's forehead wrinkled. He had not considered the issue from
this angle.
       Since the death of his wife a year earlier, the professor had, time
after time, considered his son as a stranger or like…a slave.
       It was one of two things: Either he was not interested in him, or he
harassed him with requirements and reproaches, some more
eccentric than others.
       But in these recent months, the professor had hardly spent a lot of
time with his son; also loneliness was possibly beginning to weigh
him down...
       "You're probably right,” admitted Indy. “I should accompany him.
And also...New York, it’s not so far away. "
       Once again, Herman shook his head in a sign of approval.
       It was then that Indy slapped himself on the right side of his head
with enthusiasm.
       “I just had a splendid idea!” he cried. “What would you say about
coming with us, Herman?”
       Fatso opened his eyes like an owl. The instant thereafter, his head
began to go back and forth again, but this time from left to right and
right to left, a sign of categorical refusal.
       "The city atmosphere would do you good,” Indy continued in the
same tone. “And you've never seen the Statue of Liberty, right?”
       Herman almost gagged on his food.
       What was this new brainstorm? Had Indy fallen on his head?
       Him, Herman, in New York, the home of all dangers?! Even the
smallest spider holed up in a corner of his room made his legs
wobble.
       "So ... New York?!!"
       "But Indy...why do you want me to come, too?" Herman asked in a
voice rendered almost inaudible by timidity. “I wouldn’t be of any
use to you…”
       "Why? Why?" Indy interrupted in a tone of anger. “Always
questions! Always reproach. I thought you'd be happy, Hermie. You
always move heaven and earth to accompany me…"
       "Me?! I move heaven and earth to accompany him?" Herman
thought with his inner heart.
       But he didn’t breathe a word. His eyes hidden behind filthy
glasses, Herman Mueller stared at his friend - his best friend - who
was for him, the greatest of mysteries.
       "Your parents are traveling,” went Indy. “They won’t even realize
that you’re away.”
       "But…what about school?" Herman objected weakly.
       Indy raised his arms up in the air.
       "Listen, Hermie, you know as well as I do that you’ll learn much
more in New York in one week than at our school in an entire year.
So I won’t ask you the question for a third time: Are you coming, yes
or no?"
       This last sentence was more of an ultimatum than a query. As
usual, Indy had presented Herman with an alternative that wasn’t
one.
       And as always, without him being able to really explain why,
Herman was going to accept.
       Once Indiana Jones decided on something, it had to be obeyed.
This was an implicit rule, to which Herman wouldn’t refrain from
following for anything in the world…
       "We leave my house at 5 o’clock in the evening,” Indy concluded
with great confidence. “Most importantly, don’t be late, Hermie."


       When Professor Jones saw his son hastily filling his travel bag, a
small tear appeared in the corner of his left eye.
       "Junior, you always do everything at the last minute,” he growled
in an affectionate tone. “Yet, I’ve already told you a hundred times,
isn’t that right? Precision is the mother of all virtues."
       Indy turned to the father he loved, deep in his heart, more than
anything in the world.
       "I know, I'm incorrigible. But what do you want? It's your fault,”
Indy mischievously replied. “Yes, Dad: It was you who made me an
undisciplined boy.”
       "Really?"
       "Of course! An excess of authority leads to rebelliousness. Like
Confucius said: ‘Never impose on others what you would not choose
for yourself.’”
       “Confucius, the famous Chinese philosopher? Well, Junior, I am
impressed. I didn’t know that he had spoken that phrase two
thousand and three years before Napoleon!"
       Both of them burst out laughing together and Indy went to throw
himself into the arms of his father.
       Their terrible wound was not healed. Without a doubt it never
would be. Anna Jones had died a year earlier, and Indy and his father
were, from that point onward, alone in the world.
       Fortunately for them, they were also the best of friends.
____