Translating myself #10: News from a launch
Hello.
Yesterday there was a lovely digital book launch for Dulce Maria Cardoso’s Violeta Among the Stars. It was brilliantly chaired by broadcaster Rosie Goldsmith, and Dulce was engaging and insightful as ever.
She revealed, among other things, that it took her four years to write a first draft – which she then lost. Unbowed, she rewrote the whole book from scratch, retrieving from her memory a version that she felt was better than the lost draft.
There were excellent questions from the audience – including one for Dulce about what it felt like to “hand her book over” to a translator.
I am very grateful to those who were able to join. A recording will be available, I am told, and I will share it in a future newsletter.
For now, here are a few Dulce quotes that I managed to scribble down:
On the artist’s role:
We don’t like to look at ourselves. So it is the job of a writer to do that.
On why she wrote the novel:
I write about what I fear the most. Violeta is about lack of love.
On how she created her characters:
I’m not good at explaining my characters. Because it is not me who created them, they create themselves.
(The recording, when it is available, may prove that my notes are not entirely accurate.)
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This weekend the Financial Times will publish its yearly summer list of “Best Books”. For many years now I have been asked to contribute with a selection of “Fiction in translation”. Here is my list for 2021 (if that link doesn’t work, try here).
But why must there be a specific list for “Fiction in translation”? Is it not just… “Fiction”?
Many bookshops adopt a similar approach to how they present books – it is not uncommon to find a specific display given over to “foreign” or “translated” fiction (though this seems to apply, mostly, to contemporary fiction; classics like Kafka, Flaubert or Dostoevsky appear to have gained their legitimate place on the main “Fiction” shelves.)
When thinking about this issue, I am reminded of the evergreen debate about use of the “World Music” label to describe music performed in any language other than English. It is a useful marketing term, of course, and helpful for deciding under what category an album might be displayed, or sold. But the assumption that all music not performed in English can somehow be bundled into the same category – whether it is European folk or contemporary Latin American rock, Afro-jazz or Punjabi qawwali – has always irked me.
A positive case might be made, however, for the use of the “Fiction in translation” category.
Years ago I used to compile the full fiction list for the Financial Times (you can find some of my earlier lists here). What I discovered then was that, despite my interest in championing translated books, the abundance of English-language titles inevitably crowded out all but the biggest of foreign titles. After all, space – and readers’ attention– are limited.
It was a commonly quoted fact that literature in translation made up only 3% of the total output of books published in English. One veteran of the translation game has suggested that the number today may be closer to 5% – a move in the right direction, though still regrettably lower than the 23% of translated books published in France, or 26% of the foreign titles published in Spain.
There are reasons to be cheerful. I am optimistic about the growing interest in fiction translated from other languages. This can be seen in prizes like the Man Booker International, which honours not only a book’s author but also its translator.
I am thrilled by the growing number of independent publishers brinigng us titles from around the world: Fum D’Estampa publishing Catalan authors; Les Fugitives specialising in French authors; or Charco Press serving up some of the most interesting voices in Latin American fiction.
And only a few weeks ago, news arrived of the launch of Mountain Leopard Press, set up by the indefatigable Christopher MacLehose (who you may remember from an earlier newsletter as being responsible for first acquiring Dulce Maria Cardoso’s work for publication in English), and which describes itself as “the home for the best translated and contemporary literature from around the world.”
I am hopeful for the health of translated fiction. And, though I have sometimes wondered whether having a separate category of “Fiction in Translation” in the Financial Times list might be a way of marginalising it, I am grateful to have a dedicated space in which to shine a bright light on some of the world’s most exciting books.
But what, dear reader, do you think? Do labels such as “world music” or “fiction in translation” help? Are they restrictive, or off-putting? Or do they suggest adventure and new horizons?