Introduction by Olivia E. Sears

It is by now a cliché among translators to describe their craft through its etymology, especially the Latin: trans, meaning across; latio, from the verb ferre, meaning to ferry, bear, carry. To ferry across. Another cliché haunting translators is an old Italian saying: traduttore—traditore: "translator—traitor".

With this year’s choice of "crossings" as our theme, we invoked these popular characterizations: on the one hand, nobly crossing language barriers, bearing jewels of literature across frontiers of language; on the other hand, double-crossing the spirit of the original text in the process of translation. At the same time, we looked forward to being challenged by our community of translators: What would they come up with? What would this issue really be about? For in the end, this and every issue is a reflection of the work being done out there in the communities where you are reading this.

We were also interested in exploring another, more obvious cliché: the millennial crossing. Whether one believes this is the first year of the third millennium or the last year of the second, the year 2000 attains its uniqueness through our expression of the numeric significance every day in language. As speakers of American English, we can deny the actual significance of the date but not the change in our representation and expression of it. We have entered unfamiliar territory, the land of triple zeroes: naught, naught, naught. For the first time, after a lifetime of speaking of years in double digits (19 + 99, for instance), we have begun to use the word "thousand". We don’t even know what to call this year in English, without resorting to "thousand": aught aught? zero zero? Whether or not this numeric change is greeted with discomfort or elation, the fact of the linguistic difference might affect our feelings about the passage of time.

With the approach of the year 2000, many people fixated their anxiety about the crossing on the potential for mechanical breakdown (especially software’s ills crossing over into hardwares capabilities). We were, in fact, both relieved and disappointed that nothing substantive changed. Our lives do not feel millennially different. Yet within weeks, the expression "That’s so 90s!" came into popular usage. How many of us, as children, counted how old we’d be in the year 2000, using it as a fictive marker to imagine what our lives would be like, always with a sense of wonder at the great distances we surely will have traveled. Now the greatest question is if the social and technological problems of that last century will ever be overcome.

We live in a society increasingly defined by intersections. Be it information or products or values or currency, in a world of such interaction (even if only virtual in some communities), to cross over into another community is seen as a threat by many. In the world of the internet, many governments fear the information while their citizenry fear the commercialization of the internet. Intersections can be fraught with accidents. But if you place yourself in these intersections, even raise children in them, they can become places of growth and exchange.

TWO LINES is also growing through the wealth of ideas presented to us by the translation community. We are moving beyond the written word with a larger organization, the Center for the Art of Translation, which encompasses the activities of the journal as well as more diverse programs. Our first new project, begun this year in San Francisco, involves bringing translation into the schools and into communities where many different languages are already spoken. We hope to encourage a view of multilingualism as a positive and creative resource. We are also expanding into more readings and performances, bringing the art of translation to a wider audience. We hope you will join us.