Do you secretly translate passages from your favourite books? Are you a translator with a passion for poetry? Do you translate literature but don't have many people to read through your work? Are you looking for inspiration and support for your literary translation work?
Then you need a Literary Translation Lab. Our version here in Berlin was inspired by a Polish group initiated by Dorota Stroinska. We meet up once a month to inspect each others' translations through a literary microscope. Anyone can come, and anyone can bring translations - provided they're from German to English, as we don't feel qualified to judge anything else. We're loosely affiliated to the No Man's Land German literature magazine, and we have about six or seven regulars, with other people turning up as and when they have something to bring along.
Our first ever lab was a year ago. Three of us sat waiting around the table in the "library" at the Kreuzberg restaurant Max & Moritz, wondering whether anyone would turn up. And they did! It seems there are plenty of translation geeks out there who had been just waiting for this opportunity to meet like-minded people and work on texts together rather than just chatting and drinking - although we do that too. So far, we've looked at prose and poetry by Ludwig Hohl, Heinrich Heine, Hendrik Jackson, Clemens Meyer (natch), Wolfgang Hilbig, Funny van Dannen... and I can't remember any more but there have been about 20-25 texts so you'll understand the problem.
I for one really value the experience. Even commenting on other people's work hones your own skills, as you spot those things you do yourself in the process. And there is nothing better (or more daunting) than a room full of people taking your own translation apart for getting a really great result. Some of us faced the problem that we do translations for German publishers, which are rarely read by a native speaker before they're let loose on the world. So we now have a "free" editing service for just that situation.
What I'm most pleased about and proud of is that we've encouraged people to start translating German literature who didn't beforehand - from students to seasoned professionals. And No Man's Land #2 features a couple of texts resulting from that. If you want to follow our example elsewhere, go right ahead. Schafft ein, zwei, viele Übersetzungslabore! And if you live in Berlin and want to take a look, just come along on the first Tuesday of the month at 8 pm.
We'll be celebrating our first birthday in May. More very soon...
Monday, 21 April 2008
Friday, 18 April 2008
Zickenkrieg
I was going to provide something very sensible for your weekend delectation, but then this came along. It's from Germany's most-read "newspaper" - although they're not allowed to call themselves that as they don't run enough news stories - Bild. And it's a piece about the ubiquitous Feuchtgebiete/Wetlands author Charlotte Roche and her book. Usually, I suspect, the literary section is small to non-existent. But this story is filed under "Star-News".
One of my least favourite German actresses/lecturers/provocative she-rappers, Lady Bitch Ray, has apparently slagged old Charlotte off. She says: "If anyone's allowed to talk about fucking in Germany, then it has to be me! She just wants to hitch a ride on my vagina style with her book. She's just a bad copy of me."
Now then, obviously LBR is not quite as stupid as she pretends to be, seeing as she is currently writing her PhD (the semiotics of the clothes in the Bild photos are fairly clear, I'd say). But surely she realises that writing a book and making a film are two different things. And I would like to hope that more than one person in Germany is allowed to talk about fucking, actually.
Anyway, I had a good laugh at this piece, especially the moralising video that bleeps out all sorts of words in various red-faced readings from the book - the first one, in case you were wondering, is "tampon".
Zickenkrieg, by the way, translates literally as "war of the nanny goats". Alas, German is no better than English when it comes to referring to women by animal names. But that presumably doesn't worry someone who calls herself a dog.
Ms Roche declined to comment.
One of my least favourite German actresses/lecturers/provocative she-rappers, Lady Bitch Ray, has apparently slagged old Charlotte off. She says: "If anyone's allowed to talk about fucking in Germany, then it has to be me! She just wants to hitch a ride on my vagina style with her book. She's just a bad copy of me."
Now then, obviously LBR is not quite as stupid as she pretends to be, seeing as she is currently writing her PhD (the semiotics of the clothes in the Bild photos are fairly clear, I'd say). But surely she realises that writing a book and making a film are two different things. And I would like to hope that more than one person in Germany is allowed to talk about fucking, actually.
Anyway, I had a good laugh at this piece, especially the moralising video that bleeps out all sorts of words in various red-faced readings from the book - the first one, in case you were wondering, is "tampon".
Zickenkrieg, by the way, translates literally as "war of the nanny goats". Alas, German is no better than English when it comes to referring to women by animal names. But that presumably doesn't worry someone who calls herself a dog.
Ms Roche declined to comment.
Jittery Tag
Nervous. Bowlserised has dared me to do the following:
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.
I have to cheat because I know nobody wants to read the fifth to seventh sentence on page 123 of Sesamstrasse von A bis Z. Most of the sentences are things like: "Ein Buchstabe stimmt nicht. Wie heißt es richtig?"
But also at arm's reach (must do some tidying) is Irmgard Keun's Child of All Nations. What a coincidence! Translated from German by Michael Hofmann, and recently published by Penguin Classics. I haven't started reading it yet so I'll just give you the jacket blurb:
'Irmgard Keun's hugely engaging child-narrator travels headlong through Europe and through life's lessons, while the world careens towards war. With the flashbulb of a single phrase, character and milieu are revealed to the core; and despite - or rather because of - Keun's precision, this book breathes compassion. There is room for everything - shrewdness, forgiveness, wit and loneliness - while love makes all its hopeless deals with hope.' Anne Michaels, author of Fugitive Pieces.
Nice use of the word "careens" there, don't you think? And the sentences are:
Some young Americans were sitting at the next table, drinking champagne, and waving their hands and talking loudly all at once. The Swiss man kept looking at my mother with his ill-looking green eyes. He wanted to be nice to her and treated her to a bottle of Vichy water, and said: 'You must have been very beautiful when you were younger.'
How fitting. And what a lovely slap-in-the-face compliment.
The only problem now is that I'm a bit new at this malarkey and can only think of one person to pass it on to - partly, I admit, because I've noticed similar things on other blogs I read like is a blog so I don't want people to have to repeat themselves. But then I was always one to break chain letters and the like, so who cares?
So, literary rapture, you're up next.
1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.
I have to cheat because I know nobody wants to read the fifth to seventh sentence on page 123 of Sesamstrasse von A bis Z. Most of the sentences are things like: "Ein Buchstabe stimmt nicht. Wie heißt es richtig?"
But also at arm's reach (must do some tidying) is Irmgard Keun's Child of All Nations. What a coincidence! Translated from German by Michael Hofmann, and recently published by Penguin Classics. I haven't started reading it yet so I'll just give you the jacket blurb:
'Irmgard Keun's hugely engaging child-narrator travels headlong through Europe and through life's lessons, while the world careens towards war. With the flashbulb of a single phrase, character and milieu are revealed to the core; and despite - or rather because of - Keun's precision, this book breathes compassion. There is room for everything - shrewdness, forgiveness, wit and loneliness - while love makes all its hopeless deals with hope.' Anne Michaels, author of Fugitive Pieces.
Nice use of the word "careens" there, don't you think? And the sentences are:
Some young Americans were sitting at the next table, drinking champagne, and waving their hands and talking loudly all at once. The Swiss man kept looking at my mother with his ill-looking green eyes. He wanted to be nice to her and treated her to a bottle of Vichy water, and said: 'You must have been very beautiful when you were younger.'
How fitting. And what a lovely slap-in-the-face compliment.
The only problem now is that I'm a bit new at this malarkey and can only think of one person to pass it on to - partly, I admit, because I've noticed similar things on other blogs I read like is a blog so I don't want people to have to repeat themselves. But then I was always one to break chain letters and the like, so who cares?
So, literary rapture, you're up next.
Wednesday, 16 April 2008
London Book Fair
I think I must have "done" book fairs in the wrong order. I started with Frankfurt, which was incredibly overwhelming, moved on to lovely Leipzig, which is just the right size to be friendly but still exciting, and now London - which is, frankly, the Baby Bear of book fairs. A bit of a whippersnapper, stirring up a lot of noise, but just not big enough to stop anyone from wandering in and eating its porridge.
I'll stop that analogy right there, shall I? It was an interesting experience. Despite the Guardian's Guy Damman claiming it would be more reader-focused this year, it is nowhere near as interesting for readers as the literary lovefest that is the Leipzig Book Fair. It's all about rumours, hype and deals, says Joel Rickett in the Guardian books blog again. Interestingly, some of that hype seems to be about Feuchtgebiete, or Wetlands as it seems to have established itself in English.
But the seminar/events programme was excellent, I have to concede. Having scooted round the stalls reluctantly airing their wares inside of about an hour, I retired to the grubby "event suites" upstairs at Earls Court. Living in Germany makes you painfully aware of Britain's dirt and dinginess, and there was plenty of it behind the facades of the crumbling exhibition centre. It reminded me of our old local cinema, which went from a thriving home of cinematic fun - I think I saw Break Dance 2 (Electric Boogaloo) there - to a rat-infested flea pit to a snooker hall to a Bollywood movie temple to being pulled down for a block of flats. Only Earls Court doesn't smell of stale popcorn. And it has a lot more staff, all of them very friendly and helpful.
So what did I learn? I attended an event intruigingly entitled "Trans-Lit Trends" and found out that American readers are looking for spiritual and practical support - and that young editors are getting more enthusiastic about publishing translations - although others are wary, as the USA does not have a longstanding translation culture. I suspect that last comment was not entirely correct.
I broke off drinks with Germans (feeling way out of my depth anyway in the face of industry gossip, but at least not underdressed, which would have been worse) to find out "What UK Editors Want". The panel included Christopher MacLehose (the pronounciation is truly prosaic) - the man who champions 70-year-old translators and now has his own translation imprint. Not surprisingly, there was no holy grail of what to offer UK publishers to be had. But I did learn that they need you to capture their attention and that you need to make sure they're the right people to turn to. And that the seemingly highest-scoring method for getting into print is to attend dinner parties at editors' homes - and to take your toothbrush along, as my cynical friend added later.
And I went to an uplifting event on The Perils and Pleasures of Translation, manned by Edwin Frank, Robert Chandler, Will Hobson and the author Adam Thirlwell. It was slightly rambling, which was not helped by Will Hobson repeatedly losing the thread during long hymns to Ilja Trojanow, who he's translating. But it was, at last, an event about translation that didn't moan on about how little is translated into English. I found one of the most interesting points was Robert Chandler's about how he prefers to have his translations read by as many people as possible before publication - including some who don't speak the original language (in his case Russian). He noted that those capable of understanding the original often can't help but read the original through the translation, so to speak, and fail to spot a lot of problems in the English. Adam Thirlwell was interesting too, and has written a book about writers and translators called Miss Herbert. He made me feel incredibly stupid and I then found out he's five years younger than me and soon to be teaching at Princeton - but maybe I eavesdropped wrong there. He was nice though, if a little revealingly attired.
The sensual highlight, though, had to be the cooking presentations. It was smell-evision pure - a live TV chef with all the delicious aromas roaming free. I saw the Malaysian Chef Wan, who made something yummy and kept us amused with many quips and plenty of interesting information on the history of Malysian cuisine. Judging by the crowds of adoring fans, he's very good. Maybe my discovery of the book fair?
Having moaned all the way through this wee post, I have to say I think I'll go again next year. I hope I can have the chip surgically removed from my shoulder beforehand though.
I'll stop that analogy right there, shall I? It was an interesting experience. Despite the Guardian's Guy Damman claiming it would be more reader-focused this year, it is nowhere near as interesting for readers as the literary lovefest that is the Leipzig Book Fair. It's all about rumours, hype and deals, says Joel Rickett in the Guardian books blog again. Interestingly, some of that hype seems to be about Feuchtgebiete, or Wetlands as it seems to have established itself in English.
But the seminar/events programme was excellent, I have to concede. Having scooted round the stalls reluctantly airing their wares inside of about an hour, I retired to the grubby "event suites" upstairs at Earls Court. Living in Germany makes you painfully aware of Britain's dirt and dinginess, and there was plenty of it behind the facades of the crumbling exhibition centre. It reminded me of our old local cinema, which went from a thriving home of cinematic fun - I think I saw Break Dance 2 (Electric Boogaloo) there - to a rat-infested flea pit to a snooker hall to a Bollywood movie temple to being pulled down for a block of flats. Only Earls Court doesn't smell of stale popcorn. And it has a lot more staff, all of them very friendly and helpful.
So what did I learn? I attended an event intruigingly entitled "Trans-Lit Trends" and found out that American readers are looking for spiritual and practical support - and that young editors are getting more enthusiastic about publishing translations - although others are wary, as the USA does not have a longstanding translation culture. I suspect that last comment was not entirely correct.
I broke off drinks with Germans (feeling way out of my depth anyway in the face of industry gossip, but at least not underdressed, which would have been worse) to find out "What UK Editors Want". The panel included Christopher MacLehose (the pronounciation is truly prosaic) - the man who champions 70-year-old translators and now has his own translation imprint. Not surprisingly, there was no holy grail of what to offer UK publishers to be had. But I did learn that they need you to capture their attention and that you need to make sure they're the right people to turn to. And that the seemingly highest-scoring method for getting into print is to attend dinner parties at editors' homes - and to take your toothbrush along, as my cynical friend added later.
And I went to an uplifting event on The Perils and Pleasures of Translation, manned by Edwin Frank, Robert Chandler, Will Hobson and the author Adam Thirlwell. It was slightly rambling, which was not helped by Will Hobson repeatedly losing the thread during long hymns to Ilja Trojanow, who he's translating. But it was, at last, an event about translation that didn't moan on about how little is translated into English. I found one of the most interesting points was Robert Chandler's about how he prefers to have his translations read by as many people as possible before publication - including some who don't speak the original language (in his case Russian). He noted that those capable of understanding the original often can't help but read the original through the translation, so to speak, and fail to spot a lot of problems in the English. Adam Thirlwell was interesting too, and has written a book about writers and translators called Miss Herbert. He made me feel incredibly stupid and I then found out he's five years younger than me and soon to be teaching at Princeton - but maybe I eavesdropped wrong there. He was nice though, if a little revealingly attired.
The sensual highlight, though, had to be the cooking presentations. It was smell-evision pure - a live TV chef with all the delicious aromas roaming free. I saw the Malaysian Chef Wan, who made something yummy and kept us amused with many quips and plenty of interesting information on the history of Malysian cuisine. Judging by the crowds of adoring fans, he's very good. Maybe my discovery of the book fair?
Having moaned all the way through this wee post, I have to say I think I'll go again next year. I hope I can have the chip surgically removed from my shoulder beforehand though.
Websites
Two new things:
English PEN has launched penatlas.org, "a radical new initiative, which will allow writers and readers around the world to create their own continually evolving database of world literature." Starting with a focus on the Arab world.
And New Books in German has a new-look website. Lots of extra stuff like news and events, and a fair amount of "coming soon"s. Looks lovely, and you can finally link directly to the reviews, etc. Well done, people. Not that anything could ever top the pleasure of leafing through the print magazine in the bath.
English PEN has launched penatlas.org, "a radical new initiative, which will allow writers and readers around the world to create their own continually evolving database of world literature." Starting with a focus on the Arab world.
And New Books in German has a new-look website. Lots of extra stuff like news and events, and a fair amount of "coming soon"s. Looks lovely, and you can finally link directly to the reviews, etc. Well done, people. Not that anything could ever top the pleasure of leafing through the print magazine in the bath.
Free the Word!
We arrived in the rain. Or was it hail? London's weather was doing its very best to remind me of why I love living in Berlin. Pushed my credit card into a slot and out came two pre-booked tickets. I'm always so very impressed by technology - my friend told me it made me look like a country bumpkin when I said "Ooooh!"
And then we wandered around the huge Royal Festival Hall looking for the Spirit Level, where Emine Sevgi Özdamar was reading. It was tucked away in the basement, but looked like the coolest part of the joint. I see they're doing a poetry-cum-Northern soul & ska nite there soon. Sigh. When will Berlin's retro rockers finally dig the poetry beat, man? Although this may be one of those things one has to do oneself to get it done at all. I'm envisaging a sweaty event in the Roter Salon... But how will the rude boys and the hair-slided poet girls get along?
I digress. The venue was full to the brim and I had very nearly finished re-reading Die Brücke vom Goldenen Horn when Maureen Freely and Martin Chalmers came on stage. Strange, we thought, where is the author? But she did turn up, stealing the show the minute she entered the room, with an interpreter in tow. And the reading was marvellous, everything one might wish for - two brief extracts in German followed by longer sections of Martin Chalmers' very good translation. Lots of chatting, although sometimes the need for interpreting meant the answers didn't quite match the questions. So we learnt that Özdamar dislikes all forms of nationalism and the Turkish criticism that she should write in Turkish rather than German, that she loves the German of Brecht and Heine and that the tone of the book is deliberately sober.
The format was interesting. As I've said, Emine Sevgi Özdamar has a huge stage presence, and she really dwarfed everybody else on the podium. Maureen Freely was charming and witty, but I felt that Martin Chalmers and the interpreter almost blended into the background. That's something translators do tend to do - perhaps because they see themselves as providing a service of a kind to the authors themselves. And of course an interpreter really shouldn't steal the show from whoever they are speaking for. But I would have been interested to hear more from Martin Chalmers than the couple of statements he made on translating the book.
Sadly, the event had to come to an end, and I felt there were still many questions unanswered - why are there so many shoes in the book? How does she feel about her role as one of the few actively political women in late-1960s Istanbul? How did she feel about that back then?
I was once told by a Turkish-German that Turkey "didn't have a 68". Having no idea of contemporary Turkish history, I took his word for it. Özdamar's book proves that young man wrong. The difference between, say, Paris and Istanbul is that Turkey's political spring was followed by a military coup and huge violence and repression - sending the activists into prisons and exile. And The Bridge of the Golden Horn is an excellent and moving illustration of how it all came about.
I was initially surprised that Özdamar was on the programme of the Free the Word! festival with its theme of sedition. But she fitted in perfectly. In a year in which Europe is marking 40 years since 1968 and at a time when Turkish writers are facing a tough time, she brings together both aspects of activism and exile/persecution. Plus, the book is part of English PEN's excellent Writers in Translation programme (for last year), promoting free speech and intercultural understanding. And outstanding writing of course.
And then we wandered around the huge Royal Festival Hall looking for the Spirit Level, where Emine Sevgi Özdamar was reading. It was tucked away in the basement, but looked like the coolest part of the joint. I see they're doing a poetry-cum-Northern soul & ska nite there soon. Sigh. When will Berlin's retro rockers finally dig the poetry beat, man? Although this may be one of those things one has to do oneself to get it done at all. I'm envisaging a sweaty event in the Roter Salon... But how will the rude boys and the hair-slided poet girls get along?
I digress. The venue was full to the brim and I had very nearly finished re-reading Die Brücke vom Goldenen Horn when Maureen Freely and Martin Chalmers came on stage. Strange, we thought, where is the author? But she did turn up, stealing the show the minute she entered the room, with an interpreter in tow. And the reading was marvellous, everything one might wish for - two brief extracts in German followed by longer sections of Martin Chalmers' very good translation. Lots of chatting, although sometimes the need for interpreting meant the answers didn't quite match the questions. So we learnt that Özdamar dislikes all forms of nationalism and the Turkish criticism that she should write in Turkish rather than German, that she loves the German of Brecht and Heine and that the tone of the book is deliberately sober.
The format was interesting. As I've said, Emine Sevgi Özdamar has a huge stage presence, and she really dwarfed everybody else on the podium. Maureen Freely was charming and witty, but I felt that Martin Chalmers and the interpreter almost blended into the background. That's something translators do tend to do - perhaps because they see themselves as providing a service of a kind to the authors themselves. And of course an interpreter really shouldn't steal the show from whoever they are speaking for. But I would have been interested to hear more from Martin Chalmers than the couple of statements he made on translating the book.
Sadly, the event had to come to an end, and I felt there were still many questions unanswered - why are there so many shoes in the book? How does she feel about her role as one of the few actively political women in late-1960s Istanbul? How did she feel about that back then?
I was once told by a Turkish-German that Turkey "didn't have a 68". Having no idea of contemporary Turkish history, I took his word for it. Özdamar's book proves that young man wrong. The difference between, say, Paris and Istanbul is that Turkey's political spring was followed by a military coup and huge violence and repression - sending the activists into prisons and exile. And The Bridge of the Golden Horn is an excellent and moving illustration of how it all came about.
I was initially surprised that Özdamar was on the programme of the Free the Word! festival with its theme of sedition. But she fitted in perfectly. In a year in which Europe is marking 40 years since 1968 and at a time when Turkish writers are facing a tough time, she brings together both aspects of activism and exile/persecution. Plus, the book is part of English PEN's excellent Writers in Translation programme (for last year), promoting free speech and intercultural understanding. And outstanding writing of course.
Thursday, 10 April 2008
Wetlands Conquers the World
According to the Bookseller, Charlotte Roche's Feuchtgebiete has outsold all other novels on Amazon in the USA, Britain, Canada, France, Germany and Japan. If you see what I mean.
Having said I wouldn't like to translate it, I expect British publishers won't find an established translator to touch it with a bargepole. If you fall into this category, feel free to contact me. I'd be quite happy to go back on my word for the lovely Ms Roche and her blockbuster anti-hygiene novel. We'd have to change the title though.
Having said I wouldn't like to translate it, I expect British publishers won't find an established translator to touch it with a bargepole. If you fall into this category, feel free to contact me. I'd be quite happy to go back on my word for the lovely Ms Roche and her blockbuster anti-hygiene novel. We'd have to change the title though.
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