Chinese Literature in Translation
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There's plenty more to say about what went on at Frankfurt, but I said most of it in an article for the Abu Dhabi paper The National, which I will link to and leave it at that!
By Eric Abrahamsen, October 30, 1:09a.m.
"Jia Pingwa's books contain a lot of Shaanxi dialect that we Mandarin-speakers don't understand, dialect that foreigners are even less likely to understand. Another example is Yan Lianke's Shouhuo [The Joy of Living]. The translation rights were sold in 2004, but the book has yet to appear in translation. The reason is that they can't translate it - they just don't understand the dialect."
-- Southern Weekend (Nanfang Zhoumo) interview with Wu Wei, deputy director of the State Council Information Office and head of China Books International
(This follows an earlier comment thread found here.)
I wouldn't underestimate the importance of Wu Wei's comment. It may have been an off-the-cuff remark, but it came from the head of China's book export program, from the person who is supposed to be the face of Chinese literature abroad. If Wu Wei truly believes what she says, she is either a liar or a fool or both.
The foreign-language translations of Jia Pingwa's Feidu/Abandoned Capital and Yan Lianke's Shouhuo/The Joy of Living were NOT delayed because of a lack of good translators, or a dearth of foreign-type people who couldn't understand the dialect. We need to make this clear.
When I hear these pronouncements from Chinese officials, it reeks of xenophobia and makes my skin crawl. When I hear them from China-based corporate talking heads, it reeks of privileged expatriate insularity and makes me want to tear off talking heads (Jo Lusby, Penguin China: “The main challenges are ensuring good translations...” “The greatest problem is finding a good translator. It lives and dies simply in the translation...”).
Yes, yes, yes...books live and die in the translation...so why don't you cadres or talking heads ever deign to pick up the phone and actually speak to one of the up-and-coming generation of China-based translators who live in your city? When was the last time you managed to come up with an advance sufficient to support the translation of a 300 or 400-page novel? How long could YOU survive on an advance of a few thousand dollars? When will the parties who stand to profit from books in translation start pulling their weight? You get what you pay for, my friends, and you reap what you sow.
The reasons Jia Pingwa and Yan Lianke's works weren't translated earlier are complex. Some of their books were banned or appeared in expurgated versions in China. As such, they didn't make the best-seller lists. They didn't appear on the radar of foreign publishers soon enough. When they did, publishers jumped on the most controversial banned works (Serve the People, which is to Yan Lianke what The Names is to Don DeLillo) without regard to literary quality. The advances were abysmally low, so the translators had to borrow money, dig into their own pockets or rush the translations (sometimes all of the above). The foreign-language sales were disappointing, thus reinforcing the perception that Chinese fiction is a loss-leader in English-language markets.
But I don't believe it has to be this way. I think there has to be a better way.
2010 will mark the largest crop of emerging Chinese-to-English translators the world has ever seen. 2010 will be an amazing year in Chinese fiction, poetry, music and film. So why is no one buying?
By Cindy M. Carter, October 27, 1:28p.m.
In his recent book review of the new English translation of "The Tin Drum," Michael Dirda writes:
Grass has grown increasingly involved in the foreign versions of his work, going so far as to organize Übersetzertreffen -- short convocations of his translators -- at which he fields questions about his various books. From his experience of these meetings, Grass persuaded his publishers to commission a new English version of "The Tin Drum" from the distinguished Germanist Breon Mitchell.
It is refreshing to know that there are authors who understand the benefits of actually meeting with their translators.
Three things came to mind as I read this piece:
--- Have there been any such "TranslatorFests" in China to date?
--- I have heard occasionally of programs for literary translators in Europe, which feature an invitation to live for a few months (expenses paid) in the country whose language/culture the translator regularly interprets/translates for others. Do China, Hong Kong or Taiwan have such a program?
--- If you could re-translate any piece of modern Chinese writing, which one, and why?
Chinese Books, English Reviews
By Bruce Humes, October 23, 10:40p.m.
Left, standing: Eric Abrahamsen, (seated centre) Li Er
By Nicky Harman, October 21, 10:45a.m.
Wanted to to share a few short passages from Yan Lianke's novel. The first is a dream sequence; the second, a poem. The translation is almost finished. Only a week to go, as I race toward the finish line (and try not to stumble). -C
The night the tomb was robbed, grandpa had a dream:
The sky was filled with bright red suns. There were five, six, seven, eight, nine of them, crowding the sky and scorching the plain below. Drought had left the soil parched and cracked. Across the plain and well beyond, crops had died, wells run dry and rivers vanished. In an effort to banish the suns from the sky, to rid the sky of all the suns but one, strong young men had been chosen from each village, one man for every ten villagers. Armed with pitchforks, spades and scythes, they chased the suns across the plain, trying to drive them to the ends of the earth, topple them from the sky, and toss them into the ocean. Because surely, one sun in the sky was enough.
As grandpa stood at the entrance to the burial chamber, he remembered a bit of doggerel he'd heard as a child. It was an old folk saying here on the plain, a truism passed from generation to generation:
When graves are robbed of treasure,
there's not enough treasure to go around.
When graves are robbed of coffins,
there are too many coffins to be found.
By Cindy M. Carter, October 20, 2:08p.m.
Thursday night was China Literature Night, the largest gathering of Chinese writers during the fair. Mercifully, most officials had gone home at this point, and we enjoyed the rare treat of a major cultural event that did not begin with long-winded speeches by someone with a title. It was a thrilling sight for a Chinese literature fan: the front row of seats were occupied by Liu Zhenyun, Su Tong, Xu Zechen, Li Er, Ah-Lai , Yu Hua, Mo Yan, Tie Ning – I'm finding it difficult to avoid the words "power lineup". They jumped right into it. The first round was a conversation between Tie Ning and a German sinologist named Ulrich Kautz. I'm not too familiar with German sinologists, but he had snow-white hair, a Zhongshan suit, and a bit of an attitude – clearly a sinologist.
By Eric Abrahamsen, October 19, 6:35a.m.
Here are a few images from the recently-concluded Frankfurt Book Fair, starting with the positive:
This is the main China Forum, where many of the big-ticket events took place. It was well designed, well-lit, interesting to look at, and while most of the displays featured the usual subjects ("trace the transmission of printing technology from China to your country!"), they were the usual subjects done well.
By Eric Abrahamsen, October 19, 6:03a.m.
Right Bank of the Argun (额尔古纳河右岸) by Chi Zijian (迟子建) is a first-person narrative told from the point of view of an aging Evenki woman in the last years of the 20th century. She chooses to stay behind when her tribe abandons the forested mountains of Northeast China for "civilized" life among town dwellers, where their beloved reindeer will be cooped up like cattle. For details of the real-life relocation, see Reindeer Blog.
Right Bank of the Argun won the prestigious Mao Dun Literature Prize in 2008. To introduce this piece of "fictionalized anthropology," I have translated an excerpt from the author's Afterword. Intriguingly, Chi Zijian was inspired to write this novel partly based on events in her youth (she lived near mountains inhabited by the Oroqen, who are closely related to the Evenki), as well as encounters with Australian aborigines and. . .Irish pub-goers.
By Bruce Humes, October 18, 6:54p.m.
From Lao She's 《四世同堂》, Chap. 14. The setting is Japanese-occupied Beijing, near the beginning of the war. Welcome 中秋.
The space of time right around the Mid-Autumn Festival is Beiping’s most beautiful season. The temperature is neither hot nor cold, and the days and nights are equally balanced. There are no winter sandstorms howling in from Mongolia, nor summer thunderstorms perversely mixed with hail. The sky is instead so high, so blue, so bright, as if it’s smiling down on the people of the city, telling them: in these days, you need fear no threat nor harm from Nature. The mountains to the North and West darken their shade of blue, and in the sunset evenings drape themselves in many-colored robes.
By Canaan Morse, October 1, 11:54p.m.
New Comments
on Eric Abrahamsen to translate Gongwuyuan Biji/Notes of a civil servant
Cannot wait, please keep us posted on the pub date here in the States!
Thanks , Kelly Wallace
posted by KELLY WALLACE
on Sign up for Pathlight notifications
Can't wait, thanks.
posted by Thomas Gronz
on Freedom, with bits missing
There's poetry in that...
目田。
Just freedom,
with bits missing.
posted by Cindy Carter
I guess freedom's not just another word for nothing left to lose.
Lucas
posted by Lucas Klein
on Berlin Fang: Translator's Block
Good comments on the case of Zhang Shaogang Vs. Liu Lili
posted by Sun Huijun
on Here’s a novel way to get your favourite translated short story out there – podcasts
Hi Nicky Beautiful story and reading alive of such quality creates quite an atmosphere. Great idea. Bertrand
posted by bertrand mialaret