Abstract
Translation, Walter Benjamin says, grants to a work its future survival, the living-on (überleben) of what is essential in it; yet even for Benjamin, the relevance of a translation, as guarantor of such survival, remains premised, even if only tangentially, on a notion of correctness which, whether semantic or stylistic, risks reducing survival to the mere prolongation of a life already bounded. This essay, tracing the history of a mistranslation as it figures in Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, proposes to read, in a deconstructive gesture that affirms life as openness, the paradoxical forms of survival to which an irrelevant and incorrect translation may chance to give birth.
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