Mystery Translator Revealed*

So I'd threatened to storm the reading in my balaclava in defence of the poor uncredited translator of Tobias Rapp's Lost and Sound. You remember, right? After all that verbal radicalism I could hardly back down. And so I found myself outside a smoky room full of hipster ex-pats at an event about techno culture.

Armed with my placards and megaphone and with my getaway car parked outside, I battled my way in, shouting "Credit the translator! Credit the translator!" Distracted from the clubbing experts' panel discussion on professionalism and selling out, drugs and music and glitter makeup, all heads turned my way. "Is there a translator in the house? Stand up for your rights, fellow ferryman of words!"

A slight cough came from the back of the room, where a young man dressed in black was shifting in his seat. I blazed him with the beam of my maglight: "Was it you? Was it you who supplied this sparkling translation? Then stand up, man, and take your rightful place on the podium!" The crowds parted, their murmur gradually building up to a cheer, stomping their feet and clapping in admiration. And the man inched his way forward, slowed down by all the hands patting his back and arms thrown around him, until the audience finally hoisted him up and passed him above their heads on a surf-ride to the stage.

Yes, this was the man: Paul Sabin, the translator of Tobias Rapp's ode to Berlin's techno culture. And at last he was given his rightful recognition as co-creator of a work of art. His was the glory, this was his moment. May there be many more.

*This description may vary slightly from actual events. But it'd have been boring to write that he was on the podium to start with and has been nagging the publishers/record company to put his name on the website for a while now. Maybe they'll get the picture some time soon.

Lost and Sound Miraculously Translated

A while back I reviewed Tobias Rapp's book Lost and Sound, an enjoyable and well-written book about Berlin's techno clubs and the way cheap flights have internationalised the party-going public. It's caused a bit of a stir all round Europe, with reviews cropping up in the oddest of places, and you can read an interview in English at Exberliner, who are also holding a reading in Berlin this coming Thursday.

The author had told me it might well be translated into English, and now it really has been. Fittingly enough, the English version has been brought out by a record company, Innervisions. And it looks like the book-lover's version of a coloured vinyl special pressing: a limited edition hand printed with numbers one to 500 on the inside, smart cloth binding, four-colour inner covers, you name it.

One tiny detail, however, is missing, both on the website and below this excerpt elsewhere. Can you guess what it is yet?

That's right. They're not telling us who translated it. 288 pages of hard graft uncredited. I hope I'll hear back after my polite enquiry earlier today - in which case I'll let you know. But right now I'm sorely tempted to turn up at that reading waving placards and shouting through a megaphone.

Clubbing in Berlin

In today's Observer, Stephen Emms goes on a tour of Berlin's nightlife, from the Rauchhaus to Kaffee Burger to Kreuzkölln. He doesn't get past the bouncers at Berghain, though. Perhaps he should head over to the City-Lit Café for a taste of Tobias Rapp on the subject, in my translation, from the forthcoming City-Lit Berlin anthology.