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.

Badge Fun at Book Fair

So, I went to Frankfurt - and let me tell you, wearing a badge proclaiming that you love German books is a sure way to win friends and influence people - at least at a book fair it is. The most frequent comment was: So, you love German books, do you? Answer: Yes, I certainly do. Which is kind of a conversation killer. Second most frequent: Where did you get that? Answer: I've got a whole bag full of them right here. Would you like one? Which sounds a bit like: "Would you like to see my puppies?"

It would appear nobody else takes their own badges to the book fair - not even the guy with orange carpet all up the walls of his booth, whose cheerily-named press has published two books by himself and his wife, in the standard version and the hand-bound gold-lettered deluxe edition, was pressing badges on innocent passers-by as he waylaid them by the independent publishers' stage.

There are many advantages to wearing a badge proclaiming your love of German books, though. You know those awkward meetings when you don't know what the person looks like beforehand? When you're scanning the many, many faces coming towards you, wondering how a German one-woman publisher who lives in London might be dressed? Worry no more, for if you wear a badge announcing the name of your blog, she can spot you instantly in the crowd outside the agents' centre.

Or those times when you've come across a "friend" from Facebook and they've forgotten about your very existence, even though it was them who foisted their warm and caring undying allegiance upon you in the first place? Don't fret over the state of interpersonal relationships in the internet age, just point at your badge to jog their memory.

Or what about when you hardly know anybody at the only champagne reception you've been invited to, except for someone you once wrote something scathing about on your blog? Hey, it's the perfect opportunity to grovel, because there's no hiding when you're wearing your blog on your chest.

Or, say, you come across a very busy American blogger and publishing type as he's racing to catch an Argentinean writer in action, shout gleefully, Hey, you are XX! and he looks completely and embarrassingly blank? It's OK, you can prove you're not a stalker by proudly displaying your love german books badge and then managing not to fawn quite so much as last time you ran into him.

And of course, for those long minutes in line for the ladies' lavatory, there's no better way to root out other German-to-English translators with a similar bladder capacity to yourself than by wearing a rather large badge displaying your common literary passion.

I highly recommend it.

No man's land Scots-Franconian Translation Project

Far be it from me to merely rip off links from the Literary Saloon - but in this case I have something to add. Michael Orthofer links to an article on the Deutsche Welle website: Dialect poetry in translation connects regional cultures across Europe. And I have to point out that you can read the original Scots and Franconian poems in question, English versions, and their matching dialect translations at no man's land - just click on Issue 3.

And in no way am I doing so merely because my friend and co-editor at nml, Isabel Cole, herself a very talented translator, is mentioned in the article and went to great trouble to organise the translation workshop last year between poets writing in dialect from Scotland and Franconia. No, I just want to help you to appreciate the entirety of the project, including its outcome.

German Book Prize Goes to Kathrin Schmidt

And you can read an English extract from her excellent book, Du stirbst nicht, on sign and sight. The translator is John Reddick, and the book tells the story of woman recovering from a ruptured aneurysm, who struggles to regain her memory in hospital only to find that everything is not as rosy as it seems.

Schmidt is a trained psychologist and studied at the renowned Johannes R. Becher literary institute in Leipzig in the GDR. She experienced her character's fate herself seven years ago, which may well be one reason why her novel is a very sensitive and touching piece of writing.

In her brief speech at the awards ceremony, she said she was very surprised and it hadn't yet sunk in - and she was actually much happier about Herta Müller's Nobel Prize than her own award so far. Schmidt was just half a percent behind Müller's Atemschaukel in an online poll by the trade mag Börsenblatt.

Congratulations!

Frankfurt Here I Come

My fairy godmother has waved her magic wand and told me, You shall go to the book fair. If anyone's interested in a beautiful love german books badge, tap me on the shoulder at the official opening of the Translators' Centre at five on Wednesday afternoon.

And if you spot anyone wearing one beforehand, that probably means they're one of the lovely Frankfurt Fellows with whom I spent Saturday night drinking Jägermeister. They're on a whistle-stop tour of German publishers, who are lavishing them with roast venison and book recommendations. By the end they'll no doubt be suffering from exhaustion - but they'll be so much wiser and richer in experiences.

Oh, and Jürgen Jakob Becker has one of my badges too. Jürgen runs the Deutscher Übersetzerfonds, which organises events and seminars and provides financial support for translators' work. He's also in charge of events at the Literarisches Colloquium Berlin - just about my favourite place. And he runs the translation workshops there, which invite translators of German literature to meet writers, critics and publishers in Berlin, a genuine boon for anyone who has the honour of taking part. For all this and, I suspect, for his general all-round niceness and enthusiasm for all things translation, he's being awarded the German translators' association's Übersetzerbarke prize at the opening ceremony. Unfortunately, it's not quite as financially rewarding as a Nobel Prize, but it is a great honour, which Jürgen richly deserves. I shall expect him to be sporting his love german books badge provocatively as Queen Elizabeth lowers her sword onto his shoulders for his services to translation. Or whatever happens at the opening ceremony on Wednesday afternoon.

Chalmers and Marven, Berlin Tabloids on Herta Müller

Amidst the no doubt predictable tidal wave of semi-informed comment (which is why I'm not saying much), a couple of voices actually have something to say about Herta Müller.

Starting with Martin Chalmers, one of her previous translators. He has a very touching piece in the Guardian books blog giving some background information and a taste of her work. Martin, one of those fantastic translatorly curmudgeons (and I mean that in a good way, honest) who points out all that is wrong with the Anglo-American publishing world at regular intervals, closes his piece:

(...) the Swedish Academy is, I think, doing two things. It is once again challenging the self-satisfied Anglo-centrism of the English-language publishing business, with its rather narrow definitions of what constitutes good writing, and it is widening our ideas of Europe. And it is perhaps in its failure to engage with European literatures that the English culture, for all the advantages of the global reach of the English language, shows itself at its most provincial.

Then you can listen to another translator and Germanist, Lyn Marven, on BBC Radio 3 - if you're quick, that is. Go to around the 16th minute to find out all sorts of stuff about Herta Müller, only online for the next six days, unfortunately. Lyn tells us about some of Müller's motifs and motivations, corrects the presenter's assumption that only one of her books has been translated, and so on.

Berlin's tabloids are even more enthusiastic than Lyn, claiming Herta Müller as the city's own. It helps that she shares a name (almost) with one of Berlin's beleaguered football teams. The reporters for Berliner Kurier and BZ all went to last night's press conference and all bang on about how small Herta Müller is. Presumably this is a triumph for short women living in Friedenau. What's interesting is that both pieces link to reactions from Germany's household-name critics. Find out in the Kurier that Marcel Reich-Ranicki is not amused that his favourite Philip Roth didn't win - and pulls the "token female" card currently doing the rounds. And get all the gossip about what she's really like from Elke Heidenreich in the BZ.

Herta Müller Takes Nobel Prize

It's official! The Romanian-German writer Herta Müller gets this year's Nobel Prize for Literature. I'm thrilled. They tell us she "with the concentration of poetry and the frankness of prose, depicts the landscape of the dispossessed." I couldn't agree more.

You can read her in English online at sign and sight, on reading her securitate file and an extract from her new novel Atemschaukel translated by Donal McLaughlin - himself no stranger to ethnic persecution in a totalitarian system, seeing as he moved from Northern Ireland to Scotland as a child. Rights have been sold to Britain and the US, so look out for the book on a shelf near you in the future.

You can read five of her previous books in English translation as well. See the Complete Review for an overview.

Update: Apparently, Müller's reaction was "Damn, now I won't get the German Book Prize."