An Interview with Margaret Carson

Margaret Carson is a fixture in the NYC translation community.  Most readers probably know her from her gorgeous translation of Sergio Chejfec’s My Two Worlds but (to quote her Words Without Borders biography) she’s also translated fiction by  “José Manuel Prieto, and Matilde Daviu, plays by Virgilio Piñera and Griselda Gambaro, and poetry by Mercedes Roffé and Nancy Morejón”.  She’s a member of the PEN Translation Committee and a fierce advocate for translators and translated literature .

BSR:  Margaret, thank you so much for offering to answer some questions.  We keep bumping into each other at NYC literary events – always to do with translations.  It seems to me that there is a very active community of translators in Manhattan.  I wonder if you might talk about that?

MC:  Yes, there’s a lot going on in New York! And lots of the action in international literature is happening at small independent bookstores, which are run and staffed by book lovers whose enthusiasms happily extend to works in translation.

There’s at least one reading series in New York that specializes in translations (the Bridge Series, run by Bill Martin and Sal Robinson at McNally Jackson Bookstore), frequent readings and presentations by foreign authors all over town, events sponsored by universities, book festivals featuring international literature, and plenty more. Hardly a week goes by when there’s not some event that touches on literature in translation.

BSR:  Do you think translators should be involved in the promotion of translated/international literature?

MC:  Literary translators have a lot to add to the mix. Some of us are already active on the literary scene, helping to promote books in translation, and we’re wondering what else we can do. How do we get more recognition for our work and build a reputation? It’s still sadly true that many times the names of translators don’t appear on book covers, and book reviewers often fail to mention the translator or to comment on his or her work in the body of the review. Translation is basically taking apart and rewriting a book in another language, and many of us wish that reviewers would engage more with that.

BSR:  We first met after the ‘Walker in the City’ panel at the Brooklyn Book Festival, – which you and Sergio Chejfec were a part of.  It’s my understanding, and please correct me if I’m wrong, that not all translators have the type of access or personal relationship that you’ve had with Sergio Chejfec.   Do you think knowing the author as a person – in addition to knowing his work – influenced your translations (particularly since a auto-biographic component seems to inform Chejfec’s writing)?

MC:  The response to My Two Worlds has been terrific. Lots of credit goes to Open Letter for getting the book out there and for building up a readership base for Sergio Chejfec. The fact that Sergio lives in New York and is willing to get involved in the translation and promotion of his books has also helped. Of course, it’s a great novel and deserves the attention, but you never know what path a book will take after it’s published, especially a translation.

Most of the authors I’ve worked with have been extremely generous about answering questions. In the case of Sergio, I was new to his work and that added to the challenge. Sometimes my queries were not so much linguistic (“what does this word or phrase mean?”) as they were about how a sentence was developing, what the thought was behind it. It’s often reassuring when you’re translating to feel that something is clicking into place, that you “got it” in English. But on the other hand you realize that when something clicks it may be because it’s a predictable solution, something commonplace in English, and you ask yourself: would a writer whose subject matter includes the experience of language itself want this to be so neat? Answer: no, so you have to go back and make your English do more, even going beyond what seems “correct.”

About the autobiographical elements: I was careful to put a distance between the first-person narrator of My Two Worlds and Sergio Chejfec, the author. Maybe they’re similar in some ways, and it was helpful, for example, to see and handle the Art Deco cigarette lighter that’s described at one point in the novel, but I enjoy the fictional artifice. With his essays, though, it’s different. Recently I’ve been working on an essay in which Sergio tells the story of his last name and talks about his father. It’s clearly a non-fictional space with another kind of exploration, nothing like the fiction.

BSR:  Do you have an opinion as to why Argentina seems to be such a hotbed of authors?  It seems that everywhere you look a new Argentine author (or a new edition of an old book) is being published.   Of course there is Borges & Cortázar… but there’s also César Aira, Sergio Chejfec, Eduardo Sacheri, Juan José Saer… just to name a few.

MC:  There’s great literature all over Latin America, but yes, Argentina has an extraordinary literary tradition. I’m not sure what factors explain it, but at least when I was in Buenos Aires a few years ago, there were plenty of bookstores, large and small, as well as cafés where people can read, write and talk about books, all signs of a healthy book culture, along with a remarkable number of individuals who seem to have read everything. That doesn’t explain why there’s been great literature in Argentina, but it seems like a necessary condition. And keep in mind that we’ve only seen a small part of that literature—the part that gets translated into English.

BSR:  How do you feel about the future of translation and translated literature in the U.S.?  To me it appears like translations and international books are showing up in more bookshops and getting more attention every year.  I have no hard evidence to back that up, though.

MC:  Neither do I, but your question made me take a look in four bookstores within walking distance of each other in the Village — St. Mark’s Bookstore, McNally Jackson, Three Lives, and NYU’s bookstores. I admit, not a very representative sample of bookstores across the U.S., but I was heartened to see that a good number of translations were on the front table or equivalent. We still need some hard evidence, but I think your impression is correct.

My question to you: do you think bookstores should group translations together, or should they be part of the general mix of books?

BSR:  Hey I thought I was supposed to ask the questions! 🙂  But, since you asked – I think translations need to be shelved with the general mix of books.  We both attended that panel at the PEN World Lit Festival this past April on Reviewing Translations – and I think we’re in agreement that the translators name should be right on the cover with the author’s.  After that, though, I don’t think it’s a good idea to separate translated books out of the general population.  Most readers are just looking for a good book, maybe in a specific genre, but I believe there are very few readers who browse for books by specific languages.  Though that would be kinda’ awesome.  I’d love to walk into a bookshop and say “I’m in the mood for something… I don’t know…. Japanese.  What do you recommend?”  I might just try that next time I’m in McNally Jackson.

Now, back to my questions.  As a member of the PEN Translation Committee have you seen a greater appreciation, demand for translations and/or skilled translators?

MC:  I think there’s an increased demand for great translations, though there’s no consensus on what that means. And also an increased demand for re-translations. But those are general observations, not really related to my being on the PEN Translation Committee. Our central concerns there are to advocate for the translator, to increase his or her visibility, and to raise awareness of literary translation on the whole.

BSR:  How do you accomplish that?  Are there any events planned that readers can attend or participate in?

MC:  And here I’d like to mention two panels coming up this fall the PEN Translation Committee has organized to help carry out these aims:

The first will be at the Brooklyn Book Festival on Sunday, September 23, and will highlight recent translations into English of poetry and fiction from North Africa (exact time to be announced).

The second will be on Thursday, October 4 during the ALTA (American Literary Translators Association) conference at the University of Rochester. We’re assembling a panel made up of people from the world of publishing, book reviewing and book selling, to discuss how translators can best navigate the literary landscape and collaborate in the marketing of their translations.

BSR:  Thank you again for answering my questions!  I guess we’ll be seeing each other at this year’s Brooklyn Book Festival.

MC:  Thanks so much for this chance to talk to you!

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The Prisoner of Heaven by Carlos Ruiz Zafón (Lucia Graves, translator)

The Prisoner of Heaven brings back all the characters you loved from the first two novels in Carlos Ruiz Zafón’s Cemetery of Forgotten Books series – Daniel Sempere, now a father and husband to Bea; his fast-talking friend Fermín Romero de Torres; the author David Martín; Isaac, the caretaker; and of course poor, dead Isabella Sempere.  Daniel’s mother. David Martín’s best friend.

In The Shadow of the Wind, The Angel’s Game and, most recently, The Prisoner of Heaven, Zafón is writing an ever expanding narrative.  He not only creates connections between characters, but suggests new interpretations of events. After a sinister stranger arrives at Sempere & Son’s Bookshop looking for him, Fermín is forced to reveal his the secrets of his past to Daniel.  As he tells his story, hidden doors open and new mysteries arise.  The two embark on another grand adventure.  Not everything is resolved by the book’s end, hinting at what the author might have planned for his next installment.

I’ve always believed that one of Zafón’s greatest strengths is his ability to create atmosphere, and he continues to play to that strength in The Prisoner of Heaven.  As the title suggests, a good portion of this tale takes readers inside the walls of Montjuïc Castle, where both republicans and nationalists were imprisoned and executed, and their bodies dumped in mass graves at the neighboring cemetery during the Spanish Civil War.  In Zafón’s hands Montjuïc becomes a prison worthy of Dumas – damp, dirty, deadly.  It looms over the city of Barcelona.  The warden is, of course, a monster.  And the sadistic Inspector Fumero, introduced in The Shadow of the Wind, lurks (appropriately) in the shadows.

I don’t want to give too much of the story away.  The plot twists and turns, doubling back on itself, and then veers off in a seemingly random direction.  Yet by the novel’s end, almost unbelievably, Zafón manages to connect all the dots.  Not just in this novel, but the entire series.  Including the book I imagine he is currently at work on.

Zafón claims to have written the novels so that they can be read in any sequence (influenced a tiny bit by Cortázar, perhaps?), and I keep trying to imagine how the story could unfold with the order mixed up.  I don’t believe it would make a significant difference. If you want to read the books in strict chronological order begin with The Angel’s Game, move on to The Shadow of the Wind and then read The Prisoner of Heaven.  But I recommend following the order Zafón wrote them and in which they were published.  The Angel’s Game struck me as a bit inscrutable when I first read it, but I dismissed my reaction.  I assumed it to be a stand-alone set in the same Barcelona as The Shadow of the Wind.  Eventually I came to understand that, like The Empire Strikes Back, The Angel’s Game creates a bridge between books.  The significance of which isn’t apparent until after reading The Prisoner of Heaven.

All three books are translated by the legendary Lucia Graves.  She is the daughter of the poet and novelist Robert Graves, as well as a novelist and memoirist in her own right.  She excels at genre fiction, always keeping perfect pace with the author’s text.  Her translations are fresh and unaffected The Prisoner of Heaven maintains the (high) level of quality which I expect from a book with her name on it – and I hope she will continue to work on Zafón’s novels, at least until the series reaches its conclusion.

Publisher:  Harper, New York (2012)
ISBN:  978 0 06 220628 2

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July 2012 is Spanish Language Lit Month!

Stu at Winstonsdad’s Blog has designated July 2012 “Spanish Language Lit Month”.  He’s created a schedule of activities that includes at least two read-a-longs and a foreign film watch-a-long/discussion – and for some reason I have this image in my mind of an outdoor street fair with food trucks and games and music blaring… which, O.K., isn’t exactly the case.  But it still feels like a celebration!

In the spirit of the general festivities I’ll be posting something every Monday – whether it be as part of the scheduled events or a review of a new Spanish translation.  And I encourage everyone to do the same.  I’m not one who normally follows challenges (though, after some calculations I found out that I’m kicking The Insatiable BookSluts’ Global Domination Challenge’s ass!), but Spanish Lit Month is going to be pretty fabulous and I’d hate to miss the party. So grab your favorite Spanish author and find out more here.

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