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By Bruce Humes, August 1, '20
A few years back I posted a piece entitled A Resounding “Yes” to Mother-tongue Literature — but for Whom and about What?
(Caption: Tempête rouge --- an example of a novel translated direct from the Tibetan)
In this context, “mother-tongue” referred to indigenous languages other than Mandarin. This topic may be of interest to Paper Republicans who perceive “Chinese literature” as encompassing writing in Tibetan, Uyghur, Mongolian, as well as oral literature (口述文学) for peoples who do not have a script widely used in the PRC, such as the Evenki, Zhuang and many others.
In my essay, I posed this question: Who is going to write in their native language — or read what is written for that matter — if they cannot receive a decent education in it?
For full text --- including update on China's "bilingual" education policy in Inner Mongolia, Tibetan regions and Xinjiang -- visit here.
The only resource of its kind, the Translation Database was founded in 2008 by Three Percent and Open Letter Books at the University of Rochester to track all original publications of fiction and poetry published in the U.S. in English translation. With more than ten years of data, it is a robust tool for identifying what books are available, from which countries and languages, published by which publishers, and more. With the goal of determining what new voices were being made available to English readers, the database excludes all retranslations of previously published books, giving readers and researchers a clearer sense of what contemporary voices are making their way into English.
If there are titles missing from the database that are eligible for inclusion (never appeared in English in any form, distributed through conventional means in the U.S., published on or after January 1, 2008), please enter them using the form below. Also feel free to contact us with any corrections at Chad.Post@rochester.edu.
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By Jack Hargreaves, July 19, '20
For the final week of Sunday Sentence round one, we have the opening sentence of the as-yet untranslated 《六人晚餐》 (Dinner for Six) by Lu Min 鲁敏 (2012). Thanks to Emily Jones for the suggestion!
Please input your translation in the comments box at the bottom of the page.
The sentence to translate is:
所有的一切，不如就从厂区的空气说起。这空气，是酿造情感起源的酵母，也是腌制往事的色素与防腐剂。
Remember, you can post your translation anytime between now and next Sunday, so you have plenty of time to ponder and refine it.
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‘I’m a Chinese writer, I write about this place and I don’t wish to go elsewhere,’ says Murong Xuecun [慕容雪村].
Picture: Harvey Thomlinson, his translator
Free access.
Contains Scholar List of academics who conduct related research and translation, and links that often include their e-mail addresses.
By Dylan Levi King, July 13, '20
"Sinophiles between Flatland, Fetish, and Feuilleton":
Despite (or because of) the increasingly fraught relationship between the Chinese- and English-speaking parts of the world, to my eyes anglophone Chinese studies today finds itself blessed with a wealth of voices, both within academia and without. Projects like the ever-excellent Chinese Storytellers newsletter, for example, highlight the all too often overlooked contributions of Chinese and Chinese American journalists to the political and social discourse; Reading the China Dream fills out the picture with an angle on the intellectuals; Neil Clarke and his merry band of pranksters over at Clarkesworld continue to bring much needed attention to Chinese science fiction (in addition to that of other languages); or Paper Republic (as of last year, a registered charity in the UK!) and the Leeds Centre for New Chinese Writing, which do the same for Chinese language fiction more broadly.
By Dylan Levi King, July 12, '20
A short time ago, the Paper 澎湃 ran an interview with Tao Yueqing 陶跃庆 about his work on On the Road, in which he explains what it teaches us about America, the afterlives of the book, and how gave up on translation for a day job. (《在路上》译者陶跃庆：凯鲁亚克及其燃烧的时代.)
I’ll admit, I am jealous sometimes of our Chinese comrades. I understand it’s not glamorous work (it’s my job!), but a book like On the Road is not waiting out there for me—a book the publisher has to hustle to get it into a second, third, fourth printing, a book appearing in the rucksacks of disaffected urbanites for the next two decades, a book that I will be interviewed about thirty years later...
Tao Yueqing had no idea that he had just helped launch an American classic in Chinese translation. He took his half of the manuscript fee and went on with the rest of his life.
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By Jack Hargreaves, July 12, '20
This week's Sunday Sentence is something entirely different: Yeng Pway Ngon 英培安 inserts himself into the narrative on page 25 of 《骚动》(2002), translated by Jeremy Tiang as Unrest. Thank you to Jeremy for setting this week's challenge.
Please input your translation in the comments box at the bottom of the page.
The sentence to translate is:
我启动电脑的时候，小说的女主人翁和男主人翁正在床上。我的手指在键盘上犹疑了好一阵子，不能决定应该由我还是由他们其中一人来叙述这场性爱。无论如何，窥视小说主人翁的私生活是读者的权利，所以作为读者的你是可以看到的，床上的性活动正在进行中，男主人翁的状态似乎并不理想。
Remember, you can post your translation anytime between now and next Sunday, so you have plenty of time to ponder and refine it.
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By Jack Hargreaves, July 4, '20
This week's Sunday Sentence can be found on the first page of 《北妹》 by Sheng Keyi 盛可以 (2004), translated by Shelly Bryant as Northern Girls (2012).
Please input your translation in the comments box at the bottom of the page.
The sentence to translate is:
一米五五的样子，短发、带卷、蛋脸偏圆，基本上是良家民女的模样，嫁个男人安分守己生儿育女的胚子。遗憾的是，钱小红的胸部太大，即便不是钱小红的本意，也被毫无余地地划出良民圈子，与寡妇的门前一样多了事。
Remember, you can post your translation anytime between now and next Sunday, so you have plenty of time to ponder and refine it.
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I spent the early parts of the book alert for allusion or deeper meaning, either about human nature or about contemporary China, but I think the book can be taken at face value as a character-driven story about the suddenness and the burden of violence. Some other themes are ever-present: madness, for instance, ghosts, and the vicissitudes of the modern world (e.g., “There’s no shame in losing your soul; the way the world is going now, it’s happening to lots of people”, and the Taiwanese businessman referring to Miss Bai’s foetus as a ‘futures deal’). I happened to have read Crime and Punishment shortly before reading this and there are a lot of parallels for all three characters about the burden of crime and violence. It is like an existentialist Mexican stand-off, and the overall impact is deeply affecting.
By Chen Dongmei, July 3, '20
We’re very happy to announce that David Perry is our first resident translator for the Paper Republic / Librairie Avant-Garde Chenjiapu Translator Residency (陈家铺平民书局汉学家驻留计划) !
The residency, organized in collaboration by Librairie Avant-Garde (先锋书店) and Paper Republic, offers translators a chance to join the Paper Republic & Librairie Avant-Garde literary family, and work on literary projects in the midst of a traditional Chinese rural environment.
In 2018, Librairie Avant-Garde launched the Chenjiapu Populace Bookstore, the third of LAG’s village bookstores. Along with the bookstore, LAG remodeled a house into a residency venue for authors, poets and other literary creatives. The residency has hosted A Yi, Li Juan, Yu Xiuhua, and Ou Ning, among others. The bookstore also holds an annual poetry festival called “Third Day of Third Month” (三月三).
David Perry is a poet and translator. He holds a MFA in Literary Translation from University of Iowa and currently teaches core curriculum writing and creative writing at NYU Shanghai as a senior lecturer. He’s staying at Chenjiapu for two weeks in July, and working on the translation of the Nanjing-based poet Sun Dong’s work.
This project came together thanks to Qian Xiaohua, Li Xinxin and Li Xia from Librairie Avant-Garde, as well as author A Yi.
Cover photo by David Perry
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By Jack Hargreaves, June 26, '20
Sunday Sentence #5 comes from an unreleased book, 《鹰头猫与音乐箱女孩》 by Dorothy Tse 謝曉虹, due out with Aquarius in July 2020 (next month!) and currently being translated by Natascha Bruce with the working title, Owlish & the Music-Box Ballerina.
Please input your translation in the comments box at the bottom of the page.
The sentence to translate is:
因此，在那空气黏稠、沉甸甸令人脑袋发胀的冬日下午，当教授Q习惯性地从家里那扇狭小的镶了不锈钢窗花的窗口看出去时，竟然没有看到海，没有看到从天而降，锋利如刀片的阳光把它任意割切成许多玻璃似的碎片，没有看到一直停泊在海湾里几条颜色明艳，充满了战意的船，以及它们那些不断深入海床里的机械吊臂。
And for anyone who fancies it, here is the sentence that finishes the paragraph:
教授Q看到的是一个居住了多年的城市，从内部渐渐膨胀起来，形成一个饱满的头颅，并慢慢回转过来，向他展示了另一张脸。
Remember, you can post your translation anytime between now and next Sunday, so you have plenty of time to ponder and refine it.
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“Stupid dog!” “Go F--- yourself, shame on u.” “How does the steamed bun soaked in human blood taste? You white-skinned pig!” Those were among the first messages I received on April 8 on the Chinese social media platform Weibo. Over the next few hours, more than 600 similar messages would be posted. I was accused of being a CIA agent. There were death threats. For the next several weeks, the insults and threats multiplied, and the message board that housed them would be viewed more than 3 million times.
What terrible offense had I committed to elicit this deluge of hate? I had translated “Wuhan Diary,” an account by Chinese author Fang Fang of covid-19’s spread in her hometown.
The entire process of translation, proofreading and sales of the foreign language edition of this book was completed within just over 10 days. Behind this “rapid publication” are the obvious efforts of anti-China forces attempting to stigmatize the anti-epidemic efforts of the Chinese people.
By Jack Hargreaves, June 20, '20
Week 4 of Sunday Sentence! Halfway through!
A lesser-known writer this week, but one of my favourites, Yang Dian 杨典 and the two opening sentences of his short story, 《朱厌》, which I've tentatively translated for the purposes of this exercise as 'Ape of War'. The story is taken from his as-yet untranslated 2019 collection, Stories from the Goose Cage 《鹅笼记》.
Please input your translation in the comments box at the bottom of the page.
The sentences to translate are:
前朝灭亡的最后一个夏日，我那位集病夫、书生、杀手与某秘密社团激进分子于一身的兄弟，我窝藏多年的故知，我不可同日而语的镜子，终于在十字路口法场走到了魂断他乡的绝境。他的死是在我意料中的。
Remember, you can post your translation today or any day next week, so you have plenty of time to think about it and there's no need to rush.
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Submission deadline 17th July 2020. For suggested poems, click on Mandarin Poems tab. Poems sourced by Paper Republic.
By Jack Hargreaves, June 14, '20
For week 3 of Sunday Sentence, we're turning to one of the best-known Chinese writers of the 20th Century, Zhang Ailing, and the opening line of her book, 《色戒》(1979), translated by Julia Lovell and released in 2007 as, of course, Lust, Caution. Thanks to Dylan Levi King for suggesting this "deceptively simple" peach of a sentence.
Please input your translation in the comments box at the bottom of the page.
The sentences to translate are:
麻将桌上白天也开着强光灯，洗牌的时候一只只钻戒光芒四射。白桌布四角缚在桌腿上，绷紧了越发一片雪白，白得耀眼。
Remember, you can post your translation today or any day next week, so you have plenty of time to think about it and there's no need to rush.
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