1In his seminal essay “On Linguistic Aspects of Translation” (1959), the American-Russian linguist and semiotician Roman Jakobson introduced the concept of intersemiotic translation, alongside intralingual and interlingual translation. In this triadic model, intralingual and interlingual translations pertain to the interpretation of verbal signs within a single language and between different languages, respectively, representing rewording and translation proper. Conversely, intersemiotic translation, or transmutation, transcends linguistic boundaries by interpreting verbal signs through non-verbal sign systems. As early as 1959, Jakobson expanded the scope of translation to include the transformation of meaning across diverse semiotic systems, highlighting the interpretative and creative dimensions of the process. His essay addressed the complexities of meaning creation and the interplay between various modes of communication, which subsequent translation models have continually refined and redefined.
2The contemporary concept of adaptation builds directly on Jakobson’s notion of intersemiotic translation, examining how texts are transformed and reinterpreted across various contexts, media, and cultures. The idea of adaptation as translation arises from the understanding that both processes involve transferring content from one form to another while negotiating meaning, context, and cultural nuances. This concept bridges the fields of translation studies and adaptation studies (Krebs 2014; Raw 2012), where equivalence and fidelity have traditionally dominated the discourse (Hutcheon 2006). However, (cross-)cultural mediation and the authenticity of the adaptation have become increasingly significant. Today, fidelity and equivalence can be understood as variations that enable authentic adaptation between cultures (Evans 2017, 320). Adaptation is thus a form of rewriting, a creative reworking of the source material (Lefevere 1998). Viewing adaptation as a form of translation provides valuable insights into the creative processes involved in transforming texts. For instance, film adaptations bring graphic narratives, characters, and themes created on paper to life. Through visual and auditory forms, the cinematic medium transforms the static source text into dynamic, engaging, and emotionally resonant experiences. In adaptations, intermediality is therefore crucial.
3Achim Hescher, in his work Reading Graphic Novels: Genre and Narration (2016), underscores the intricate interplay between different media and their impact on the reception and meaning of comics. Hescher posits that comics operate as a plurimedial communication channel, in which pictorial and verbal elements are interwoven, mutually influencing the production of meaning. He further conceptualizes comics as an artistic, multimodal discourse governed by its own codes and rules, integrating various modes of writing, including comic, dramatic, and narrative forms. Hescher emphasizes the necessity of perceiving comics not merely as a singular medium but as a dynamic interaction of diverse semiotic systems. His approach facilitates a deeper comprehension of comics’ ability to convey complex narratives and cultural significance through their unique amalgamation of visual and textual components, exemplified in the works of Zerocalcare. Intermediality, as noted by Domingo Sánchez-Mesa and Jan Baetens, is invariably “multifaceted and multilayered” (2023, 52).
- 1 I would like to thank the editors and reviewers for their patience and valuable input, which enrich (...)
4Against the backdrop of translation studies, adaptation studies, comics studies, and the field of intermediality, this article raises intriguing questions regarding the challenges inherent in the creation processes and the roles of the creators of both source and target texts. First, I emphasize authorship of the source text, before transitioning to authorship of the target text. I then explore a novel form of authorship investigating the concept of the “pluralization of the authorial figure” (Busi Rizzi 2024, 116). As theorized by Maaheen Ahmed (2017), this idea suggests that the role of the author is not limited to the traditional view of an authorial figure as merely a scriptwriter and/or artist, proposing a more expansive role that extends far beyond these two figures. Importantly, this pluralization also includes the figure of the translator, recognizing their significant contribution to the creation and interpretation of works. This theoretical issue is examined through a concrete case study of the graphic works by the Italian cartoonist Michele Rech, known artistically as Zerocalcare. The production and release of two Netflix series significantly expanded his stature as an artist, enhancing his recognition and acclaim both within Italy and on an international scale.1
5Since the conclusion of the Second World War, Italy has emerged as a prominent nation in terms of productivity within the European comics industry. The period spanning the 1970s and 1980s saw the gradual emergence of graphic novels, albeit without them being necessarily categorized as such. Regardless, the production of graphic novels has notably surged since the 2000s. Numerous authors have garnered recognition; however, among the younger generation of cartoonists, Zerocalcare stands out as a particularly influential figure. Despite this, the author remains notably reserved and struggles with the associated prestige (Boni 2025, 7).
6Michele Rech, born in 1983, began his career as an illustrator within the Roman underground scene and later contributed to various periodicals. Rech adopted the pseudonym ‘Zerocalcare’ inspired by an Italian TV commercial for a descaler product. In order to participate in an online forum discussion, he was required to select a username on short notice, ultimately drawing inspiration from a commercial jingle that had captured his attention. The name, which translates to ‘zero limescale’, has since become his distinctive identity in the realm of comics and animation. In October 2011, Rech published his first graphic novel, The Armadillo Prophecy, episodes of which were first posted on the author’s private Facebook and shared with friends who had suffered the loss of a mutual school friend, Camille. A month later, he launched his website, where he posted short stories in comic strip format. He subsequently reworked these online autobiographically inspired stories into a graphic novel, which, when compiled, demonstrated a surprising narrative coherence. In most of his graphic narratives, Rech introduces his alter ego, Zerocalcare, a young Roman who leads a reclusive life in the northern suburb of Rebibbia. This character is surrounded by a small circle of friends and is often criticized by his French mother for his life choices. Zerocalcare’s mother, who is always portrayed as Lady Kluck from the Disney animation film Robin Hood (1973), is perplexed by her son’s decision to pursue a career as a graphic artist rather than opting for what she considers a more conventional and stable profession.
7Rech depicts a nostalgic, socially awkward, and angst-ridden millennial who has little control over his life. Alongside the Armadillo, the personification of his conscience, internal voice, fears, and insecurities, the author’s alter ego skillfully dissects Italian society. In his work, Rech frequently addresses the challenges faced by the millennial generation and explores broader social themes such as ideological polarization, social justice, and the importance of activism. He takes bold, outspoken stances in an increasingly right-wing Italy. Since the early days of his career, the cartoonist has been renowned for his blend of humor, political commentary, and personal storytelling. Strikingly, Zerocalcare’s universe has
un ritmo lento, come una lagna dei Radiohead, come Karma Police./ Mi sa che è proprio il quartiere che ti abitua ad aspettare. A sentire il tempo che scorre lento, scandito dal suono ossessivo delle cicale. Craaa. Craaaa. Craaa./ Forse perché il carcere di Rebibbia è la più grossa fabbrica d’attesa d’Europa. Corpi dentro che aspettano di uscire. Corpi fuori che aspettano un cenno, un braccio dalle sbarre, un marito, una moglie, un figlio, uscire dal cancello. Attese di mesi. Anni. Vite./ Se cresci a Rebibbia ti abitui ad aspettare. L’attesa ti entra dentro. (2013, 22.)
a slow rhythm, like a Radiohead whine, like Karma Police./ I think it’s the neighborhood that gets you used to waiting, to feeling the time passing slowly, marked by the obsessive sound of cicadas. Craaa. Craaaa. Craaa./ Maybe because Rebibbia prison is the biggest waiting factory in Europe. Bodies inside waiting to get out. Bodies outside waiting for a sign, an arm between the bars, a husband, a wife, a child, to come out of the gate. Waiting for months. Years. Lives./ If you grow up in Rebibbia you get used to waiting. The wait gets inside you. (My translation.)
8The Armadillo Prophecy was followed by ten additional graphic novels, two graphic reportages, and numerous short stories published in edited volumes and periodicals. Concurrently, the artist Zerocalcare was the focus of two exhibitions, each accompanied by catalogues that offer a comprehensive overview of his entire graphic oeuvre (Scavare fossati-nutrire coccodrilli, 2018, and Dopo il botto, 2023). In 2018, Emanuele Scaringi directed the film La profezia dell’armadillo, loosely based on The Armadillo Prophecy, although its reception was rather lukewarm. Rech was not involved in the film project, yet it indirectly foreshadowed the latest phase of his career. The animated opening and closing scenes, which are a fitting reference to Zerocalcare’s source text, appear to herald the author’s transition to animated film. Following the release of several clips on his website, Zerocalcare produced eight cartoon episodes for the La7 TV talk show Propaganda Live, titled Rebibbia Quarantine. These episodes not only depicted life in the working-class neighborhood of Rebibbia during the quarantine imposed on the Italian population due to the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, but also allowed the artist to familiarize himself with the animated film medium. Despite obvious technical limitations, the cartoonist’s black-and-white series was acclaimed for its remarkable portrayal of the fears and flaws of local Romans, partly due to his rapid, stressed manner of speaking, which vocalized the anxiety of many Italian citizens.
9A year earlier, the artist had already conceived the ambitious plan to create a full animated series for Netflix. At the time, it was rumored that he had inundated the streaming service with emails. On August 25, 2019, a photo was posted showing Zerocalcare and his editor, Caterina Marietti, seemingly discussing a script and an animation scene (Zerocalcare 2023, 7). This single photo appeared to set everything in motion, but the author had indeed repeatedly attempted to reach out to Netflix until they “finally caved in” granting him “free rein” (Tondo 2022). Consequently, Netflix decided to collaborate with Zerocalcare. Both series, Tear Along the Dotted Line and This World Can’t Tear Me Down (Strappare lungo i bordi, 2021; Questo mondo non mi renderà cattivo, 2023; 2×10 episodes), were acclaimed for their emotional depth and humor, reflecting Zerocalcare’s distinctive hand-drawn style and social critique. Both series were released in 190 countries, with the first becoming the most viewed in Italy. Their success introduced the author’s work to a global audience and cemented his status as a cultural icon. Although official viewership numbers are not available, reviews on platforms like YouTube indicate that this newfound popularity has encouraged younger audiences to discover his previously lesser-known graphic novels and stories. This exploration has been further supported by the availability of translations in sixteen different languages worldwide. Internationally, the first series garnered perhaps broader recognition due to its exploration of universal themes such as loss, grief, and precarity. In contrast, the second series delves deeper into specifically Italian topics, such as the divisive polarization between left-wing and right-wing ideologies, which are likely less accessible to those unfamiliar with Italian culture and history. Tear Along the Dotted Line explores how many young Italians struggle with low wages, limited job security, and a mismatch between their education and labor market demands. This has led to delayed life milestones, increased emigration, and a growing sense of frustration and disillusionment. Conversely, This World Can’t Tear Me Down revolves around the portrayal of Italy’s ideological divide between right-wing and left-wing factions, often drawing on historical references to the country’s fascist past and communist movements. While most references pertain to the broader Italian context, some are specifically tied to Rome. These references highlight the growing unease among millennials and the increasing societal hardening in contemporary Italy. Some themes recur throughout the series, while others are woven in more subtly, like the nuanced references to gender and identity, especially the debate around how family roles are defined in public institutions. For instance, traditional terms like ‘mother’ and ‘father’ have been replaced with ‘parent 1’ and ‘parent 2’ in official documents to promote inclusivity, although this change has also sparked controversy. These references highlight the growing unease among millennials and the increasing societal hardening in contemporary Italy. Accurately interpreting cultural nuances can often prove to be quite complex (Bassanello 2021; Greene 2023; Leonelli 2023; Papadopoulos 2023; Valente 2023).
- 2 In comics and graphic novels, the connection between panels can be simple or complex introducing va (...)
- 3 In the live-action film, the Armadillo did not appear lifelike, but rather like a man in an unconvi (...)
10In 2023, Zerocalcare released an illustrated meta-commentary on the production process titled Animation Art Book. This work captures the complexity of intermedial adaptation, necessitating Zerocalcare to bring the universe of his alter ego, the Armadillo, and other characters to life, starting from the story “Il castello di cartone” [“The Cardboard Castle”] from the graphic novel Niente di nuovo sul fronte di Rebibbia (2021). According to Zerocalcare, it was only with the second series that the embodiment of the more than 150 characters inhabiting that universe was truly perfected. In transitioning from the static representation in comics to the dynamic depiction in animation film, Zerocalcare needed to adjust the visual and verbal traits of his characters, enabling viewers to correctly interpret their identity construction. In the series, Zerocalcare’s characters often received bright colors, as well as features most fitting to the animation film medium. This representation extends beyond physical appearance, encompassing the expression of emotions and ideas. Moreover, these characters had to navigate spaces that are only partially represented in Zerocalcare’s graphic novels. In a comic or graphic novel, narratives are always incomplete, requiring the reader to fill in the gaps in the empty spaces of the gutters,2 while sound is rendered through the enhancement of written words and/or images. In the first five episodes, all voices, except for that of the Armadillo, were dubbed in the cartoonist’s typical Roman diction. As in the live-action film La profezia dell’armadillo, the Armadillo is voiced by well-known Roman actor Valerio Mastandrea. However, this time, the character’s visualization is faithful to Zerocalcare’s source work.3 Furthermore, the episodes are accompanied by a soundtrack that reflects Zerocalcare’s creativity, musical preferences, his emotions and world views and those of his characters. The Clash’s I Fought the Law (1977) underscores both the rebellious nature of characters as their struggles. Certain bands are even featured in the series, such as the Italian punk band Klaxon (founded in Rome in 1979). They perform in the first episode of Tear Along the Dotted Line at “La strada”, one of the social centers which helped shape Michele Rech as a person – social centers in Italy played and continue to play a crucial role in fostering social cohesion and community engagement.
11Zerocalcare’s meta-commentary on his Netflix series elucidates the extensive collaboration involved in the production of the two series. In Animation Art Book, with texts by co-founder and editorial director of BAO Publishing Michele Foschini (the Italian publisher of Zerocalcare’s work), the cartoonist highlights the contributions of, among others: his editor, the production company Movimenti Production, in particular co-founder Giorgio Scorza, (art) directors Erika De Nicola and Alessio Giurintano, production manager Sandra Pascuzzo, story board artists Francesca Falasca, Alice Gaffo and Andrea “Jimmy” Fontana, sound engineers Massimo Cherubin, Giuseppe Franchi and Walter Carboni, musician Giancane (Giancarlo Barbati who composed music for the series), and other collaborators, such as the Netflix contact person Ilaria Castiglioni. Throughout Animation Art Book, many collaborators are not only mentioned by name, but their names are also highlighted in bold. Despite this evident multiplicity, the book’s cover and title page feature only Zerocalcare’s name, whereas the series’ closing credits acknowledge all contributors who collectively brought Zerocalcare’s graphic universe to the small screen. In the two series, one can discern the “tangible existence” of the “multiplicity of agents” (Jansen and Wegener 2013, 9). Analyzing the collaboration between all contributors reveals that the notion of single authorship does not apply to Tear Along the Dotted Line and This World Can’t Tear Me Down. Indeed, this concept is also inapplicable to the graphic narratives on paper.
- 4 We build on Will Eisner’s definition, which states that all graphic narratives that combine words ( (...)
12In this context, Maaheen Ahmed’s model of collective authorship is particularly pertinent for both graphic narratives on paper and digital media used in the creation of animated films, as both media combine words and images that are not always produced by a single author.4 In her authoritative essay on the notion of authorship within comics production, Ahmed asserts that comics authorship encompasses various creators: the author (or scriptwriter), the artist (or illustrator), the inker, the penciler, the colorist, the editor, and other “invisible” collaborators who work together within the constraints of a particular market (2017, 2), thereby generating a shifting agency. In this sense, collective authorship is inherently a form of collaborative writing. Ahmed further illustrates her model in a diagram that
identifies the creative forces (on the left) and influences (on the right) feeding into comics authorship through its porous boundaries. [She] only included the most obvious creative forces, such as writer, artist (also known as illustrator, and nowadays more rarely as cartoonist), editor, inker. [Ahmed] also added ‘others’ to highlight how the entities listed are only a selection of those contributing towards ‘authoring’ comics. (2017, 3.)
- 5 Recently, BAO Published released a new edition of Zerocalcare’s L’elenco telefonico degli accolli, (...)
13Ahmed also references Casey Brienza and Paddy Johnston’s Cultures of Comics Work, the 2016 edited volume that highlights how many workers remain invisible within the creation and production process. In this volume, the contributors examine the intricate and dynamic nature of the comics industry, highlighting the tension between individualistic artistic ideals and the collective industrial realities of modern cultural production, revealing its complexities and controversies. Comics and graphic novels result from a continuous dialogue or exchange among all contributors, for which not everyone receives equal paratextual recognition. Authorship establishes a “network of relational and often undeterminable actions and influences” (Ahmed 2017, 2). Teamwork and the iterative nature of the writing process are equally crucial, as are the design and materiality of the final product. This involves continuous negotiation, coordination, and communication among team members, as multiple roles and inputs shape the final product. In the case of Zerocalcare, this can lead to both a black-and-white edition and, occasionally, reprints in a fully colored version.5 Ahmed concludes that collaborative writing is a social process during which a team works towards a common objective, regardless of the number and types of final products.
14In addition, moving away from the concept of single authorship necessitates altering the existing hierarchy in the promotion and distribution of graphic narratives. Historically, in Italy, the author or scriptwriter has received the most attention, followed by the illustrator or artist—the sequence of their names significantly influencing the perception of authorship, which is highly culturally determined. However, in the case of Zerocalcare, the roles of author and writer/artist are so intertwined that distinguishing between them becomes challenging. In this specific instance, a photograph or other footage of Michele Rech in interviews and other promotional material evokes both roles, but not the other collaborators involved. At most, his characters are visible in the background—numerous photographs of the author illustrate this phenomenon (Leonelli 2023).
- 6 Zerocalcare repeatedly insists that he literally lives on the periphery. He often illustrates this (...)
15As Ahmed points out, this type of promotional material significantly contributes to the circulation of the author’s work, although as the individual behind the oeuvre, Zerocalcare seems to find this especially difficult to navigate. Rech reportedly does not enjoy being in the spotlight and is uncomfortable addressing a continually growing audience. His reserved nature is not only a topic of discussion in interviews and other promotional events but also a recurring theme in his work. Rech and his alter ego feel most at ease within the confines of his untidy apartment and, to a lesser extent, in his neighborhood of Rebibbia.6 All of this illustrates how author-artist Zerocalcare explores the concept of authorship, making it a nuanced and ambiguous idea.
16Moreover, the case of Zerocalcare demonstrates that comics writing is produced within formal constraints, encompassing the possibilities and limitations of the medium, as well as within a market shaped by financial and socio-political factors on one hand, and the readership’s horizon of expectation on the other. According to Ahmed (2017, 11), media authorship is a fundamental aspect of collaborative authorship. The inclusion of media authorship allows for the mapping of “working relationships” (Friedlander 2018, 17), which are crucial in both the creation and promotion of comics, and in understanding the collaborative dynamics of comics production.
17This media authorship, which constitutes another layer of Ahmed’s concept of multiple or expanded authorship (see also Colin and Sachsenmaier 2016), is equally thematized in Zerocalcare’s graphic novels and series. In Macerie prime (2017) and Macerie prime. Sei mesi dopo (2018), which should be read as a diptych, the oppositional dynamics between authorship and readership appear to escalate. Zerocalcare writes and receives increasingly aggressive hate messages from his audience. During this process, the Armadillo disappears and is replaced by Panda, an idle and cynical character resembling the protagonist of the animated film Kung Fu Panda, who instills hateful thoughts and behaviors in Zerocalcare. It is only when the protagonist reconciles with himself that he re-establishes his relationship with his readers, leading to the disappearance of Panda and the reappearance of the Armadillo. The embedding of the dynamics between authorship and readership not only illustrates the meta-textual layer of Zerocalcare’s narratives but also highlights how authors renegotiate their positions, questioning their status as the source of control while blurring the line between author and reader.
- 7 Matteo Boni’s Zerocalcare. L’arte narrative di Michele Rech (2025) proposes, among other things, a (...)
- 8 In her 2012 essay Autobiographical Comics. Life Writing in Pictures, El Refaie examines the narrati (...)
18In the case of Zerocalcare, the idea of authorship is distinctly nourished by an autobiographical component. Each album provides new puzzle pieces that the reader must integrate within an overall framework. His latest book, Quando muori resta a me (2024), appears to be his most personal, centering on Zerocalcare’s father, with whom he has had a strained relationship following his parents’ divorce. This problematic relationship improves as father and son explore their family history. The narrative of Quando muori resta a me is conveyed through flashbacks interspersed with present-day scenes.7 Traumas and fears are depicted with a great sense of humor and irony, consistent with his other books. Many readers approach the text expecting a genuine reflection of the author’s experiences and personality. However, Zerocalcare’s autobiographical narratives may be less truthful than they appear, as Philippe Lejeune cautions us in On Autobiography (1989). Through his alter ego, Zerocalcare seems committed to presenting his life story truthfully, acknowledging that memory can be fallible; yet his intention is to be as honest as possible. Paraphrasing Elisabeth El Refaie,8 one could say that Zerocalcare derives authenticity “from the colorful margins” within a graphic construction, which is then entrusted to the reader, with whom the storyteller establishes a contract. This contract can become burdensome for the author, while the reader gains more control (Eisner 2008, 49-51).
19Within Zerocalcare’s graphic construction, the main character’s identity is shaped not only through the representation of the present and the past but also by the expression of his feelings, which are not merely described with words but also visualized through creatures from various sources. The scriptwriter-artist’s preferred narrative media include video games, films, popular TV series, and comics—the titles of these media objects are as diverse as The Legend of Zelda, Final Fantasy, Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, The Walking Dead, Game of Thrones and Dragonball. In an interview with scholar and cartoonist Laura Scarpa, Zerocalcare lists an impressive array of both comic characters and graphic authors that he considers he was influenced by. The cartoonist considers himself “un divoratore di fumetti d’Oltralpe” (Scarpa 2013, 10; a devourer of comics from across the Alps, a typically Italian way of referring to France). Zerocalcare, who is bilingual, closely follows new releases and nominations at the Angoulême International Festival. While there are few explicit references to the strictly literary canon, Italian or otherwise, more frequent are those to dramatic films, often combined with less serious sources. These intertextual references provide opportunities for further meta-textual commentary. This dense intertext reveals itself fully only after several readings. Partly due to the author’s meta-commentaries within his work or in interviews, the reader progressively realizes how the citations are distributed: these intertextual references sometimes intertwine both at the graphic and verbal levels, creating unexpected intersections, while others are situated solely on the verbal or graphic level. The intertext in Zerocalcare’s graphic production enriches the exploration of the setting, the peripheral suburb of Rebibbia, to which the cartoonist seeks to attribute a certain universality. One could thus establish a typology of intertextual references, primarily from the 1980s and 1990s, that populate Zerocalcare’s world. These decades represent the formative years of Michele Rech, which are continuously recontextualized. The author frequently references films such as the Star Wars saga (1977-…), the Nightmare on Elm Street horror series (1984-…), or manga and anime narratives, such as Captain Tsubasa (1981-1988). The 1980s and 1990s constitute an integral part of the cultural baggage of the cartoonist, who grew up in what he ironically describes as the “epoca buia della civiltà. Il basso medioevo della modernità. I tardi anni ottanta” (2014c, 40; “the dark age of civilization. The late Middle Ages of modernity. The late 1980s”, my translation). In each narrative, characters or other references appear, predominantly drawing from popular culture of that period, though a close reader will also find subtle references to more canonized narratives. Indeed, the character Zerocalcare bears a resemblance to a contemporary Zeno, Italo Svevo’s most famous neurotic character and the embodiment of the so-called ineptitude, which stands for a particular form of maladjustment to life. Zerocalcare is always a pale imitation of the heroes he aspires to emulate, failing miserably in each attempt. Zerocalcare’s alter ego interacts with both real and fictionalized characters, whose features are drawn from a varied intertext that blends traditional highbrow culture, pop culture, and its so-called mediocre forms, such as TV shows (Lanslots 2019; 2020). This blend often evokes a sense of nostalgia, enhancing the relatability to the experiences and thoughts of the main characters.
20Returning to the animated adaptations of Zerocalcare’s universe, it is essential to delve further into Ahmed’s pivotal 2017 essay, which underscores that the multiplicity of instances involved in such intermedial adaptations complicates traditional notions of ownership and creative agency, encompassing both human and non-human elements (technologies, media platforms). Ahmed’s focus on the visibility of collaborative authorship parallels Lawrence Venuti’s 1995 initiative to highlight the visibility of translators, primarily within the US-American context. The debate on the translator’s invisibility is ongoing within translation studies, though it is often addressed in the singular form. Conversely, Hanne Jansen and Anna Wegener’s concept of translation begins with the idea of multiple translatorship (2013). This notion was initially developed within the field of attribution studies, which concentrates on performing arts. Tear Along the Dotted Line and This World Can’t Tear Me Down can be described as acts of translation, more precisely as partial self-translations of source texts—the series closely and creatively build on Zerocalcare’s albums, their topics and plot lines, but also as their reinvention (Stavans and Kleiman-Lafon 2022), of both the narrative content and the graphic carrier (the graphic language intended as medium), and in collaboration with others.
21In his Animation Art Book, author Zerocalcare, through his editor, elaborates on the variety of agents involved in the production (i.e. adaptation) process and the challenges they collectively faced. These processes and agents are equally important and culturally determined, as emphasized since the cultural turn in Translation Studies (Bassnett 1998). In the case of Zerocalcare’s series, the creative decisions made by a network of translators, including both human agents and non-human elements such as technologies and media platforms (DogHead Animation Studio in collaboration with Movimenti Production and BAO Publishing), did not significantly depart from the hypotexts. Contrary to being a mere replication, this adaptation authentically captures the essence of the source texts. It aligns with Linda Hutcheon’s paradigm of authenticity in A Theory of Adaptation, which asserts that adaptations can remain faithful to the original works while creatively transforming them. Hutcheon suggests that true authenticity in adaptations involves preserving the fundamental themes and spirit of the source material, even as they are reimagined through different media and collaborative processes. Viewed through the lens of fidelity and equivalence (Evans 2017), Tear Along the Dotted Line and This World Can’t Tear Me Down are less faithful reproductions and more creative reinterpretations of the original material (Lefevere 1998), enabled by animators and illustrators such as Alessio Giurintano and Maurizia Rubino.
22In his meta-commentary, Zerocalcare provides both verbal explanations and visual examples of the translation process. He elaborates on how, for instance, the graphical portrayal of characters changes when they are ‘translated’ into a motion film, to the extent that the characters’ arms and legs become more rounded. Thanks to his descriptions, it becomes clear that all decisions are made based on the interplay between choices and constraints finalized by multiple agents who pre-, co-, and re-imagine the target narrative (Borodo 2023). As Jansen and Wegener point out (2013, 7), this only becomes clear, or rather, more visible, in the paratext. In this light, Animation Art Book may be considered a component of the epitextual orbit, as “it can be difficult if not impossible to detect vestiges of the involvement of these parties in the translated [narration] itself” (Jansen and Wegener 2013, 7).
23Although the multiple agents involved in the making of the Netflix series can be considered creative translators according to Jansen and Wegener’s typology, it is clear that the entertainment industry does not recognize them as such. While translators of literary texts are routinely credited on the cover of their works, Zerocalcare’s co-translators are only credited within the Animation Art Book, and partially in the colophon. This highlights that the paratextual representation of translators is context-dependent, media-specific, and may still be an evolving process.
- 9 Zerocalcare asserts that the use of Roman dialect is integral to his identity, an element that is d (...)
24Building on Harold Love’s conceptualization of authorship, Jansen and Wegener emphasize that translation is not a singular, cohesive activity but rather “a sequence of processes” and “a series of functions performed during the creation of the work” (Love 2002, 60). According to Love, the multiplicity inherent in translation begins with multiple authorship, specifically a fourfold authorship. The precursory author provides the foundational source, such as intertextual references or influences that shape the source text, as previously discussed. This source text is crafted by the executive author, whether individually or collaboratively, with the latter being more common. The declared author is the individual whose name appears on the cover and title page. The fourth type of author is the revisionary author, who prepares the text for publication by making final changes or corrections. In the context of translation, the precursory author contributes more than mere influence; in this case, Zerocalcare provides the actual source text. The Roman scriptwriter-illustrator is the most prominent executive author, but as previously explained, the translation-adaptation is a collaborative effort, as exemplified by the voicing of the characters. Initially, the characters were voiced or dubbed by only two actors: Valerio Mastandrea as the Armadillo and Zerocalcare as all other characters. Subsequently, additional voice actors were involved to expedite the production process, such as the experienced and recognized voice actors Paulo Vivio, Chiara Gioncardi and Sara Labidi. Remarkably, from the outset, each character’s voice stood out due to its unique pitch or tone, effectively capturing the essence of the character through Roman dialect and diction, regardless of their origins.9 On the surface, the declarative translator is again Zerocalcare. The role of the revisionary translator appears more intertwined with the first two types of authors, as continuous improvements were made during the production process of the two series. Jansen and Wegener emphasize that, unlike traditional revisionary authorship where the corresponding author’s power is constrained, translators in revisionary authorship may wield greater influence. However, Animation Art Book provides limited information on this aspect and Zerocalcare suggests that power dynamics did not play a significant role, a claim that would necessitate an ethnographic approach to the translation process and the translators’ agency.
25Further research is imperative to elucidate the complexities and subtleties of authorship and translatorship. The question persists as to whether Zerocalcare’s transparency can alter the prevailing perception of the individual translator or if it merely reinforces the notion of the “translation pact” (Alvstad 2014), which pertains to the audience’s perception of a singular translator. In her 2014 article, Cecilia Alvstad posits that there appears to be an implicit agreement between translators and readers, yet the dynamics between these two parties are equally significant. Alvstad’s concept of “The Translation Pact” advocates a heightened appreciation of the role of translators. Animation Art Book, in turn, may champion the recognition of both collective authorship and collective translatorship, a stance that necessitates validation.