Our News, Your News
By Lucas Klein, February 12, '14
At the end of his new article, “What’s the Point If We Can’t Have Fun?,” David Graeber, anarchist anthropologist and public intellectual, writes: "Years ago, when I taught at Yale, I would sometimes assign a reading containing a famous Taoist story. I offered an automatic “A” to any student who could tell me why the last line made sense. (None ever succeeded.)" The story as Graeber quotes it:
Zhuangzi and Huizi were strolling on a bridge over the River Hao, when the former observed, “See how the minnows dart between the rocks! Such is the happiness of fishes.”
“You not being a fish,” said Huizi, “how can you possibly know what makes fish happy?”
“And you not being I,” said Zhuangzi, “how can you know that I don’t know what makes fish happy?”
“If I, not being you, cannot know what you know,” replied Huizi, “does it not follow from that very fact that you, not being a fish, cannot know what makes fish happy?”
“Let us go back,” said Zhuangzi, “to your original question. You asked me how I knew what makes fish happy. The very fact you asked shows that you knew I knew—as I did know, from my own feelings on this bridge.”
Graeber admits, in a manner of speaking, that he would have had a hard time earning the “automatic ‘A’” himself. “After thinking about the story for years,” though, he concludes that Zhuangzi shows “himself to be defeated by his logician friend” as a form of play—“arguing about the fish, we are doing exactly what the fish are doing: having fun, doing something we do well for the sheer pleasure of doing it.”
Graeber’s is a compelling answer, but it’s not quite right.
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You may find the term “culture industry” strange to the ear or a throwback to the days of the defunct Soviet Union’s “Command Economy.” But it’s a palpable reality in the People’s Republic, and based on my research over the last year, the budget now devoted to “ethnic minority” publishing and films has skyrocketed.
Among Tibetans, Uyghurs and Mongolians, it appears that the latter—perhaps because they are better integrated, more likely to speak Mandarin and rarely accused of “splittism”—is emerging as a major beneficiary of that largesse . . .
By Eric Abrahamsen, February 10, '14
The Vermont Studio Center invites applications for its Chinese Poetry & Translation Fellowships Program supported by the Henry Luce Foundation. In 2014, VSC will award 12 outstanding Chinese poets and literary translators with 4-week joint residencies to create new work individually and in collaboration as part of VSC’s diverse creative community.
Applications for the next round of VSC/Luce Foundation Chinese Poetry & Translation Fellowships are available online or in printable form as part of VSC’s April 1, 2014 international fellowships deadline.
2014 VSC/Luce Foundation Chinese Poetry & Translation Fellowships:
- Six awards for outstanding poets living anywhere in the world whose primary language is Chinese. These awards include roundtrip travel and a discretionary stipend.
- Six awards for talented English-language translators working with Chinese poetry. These awards include a discretionary stipend.
These fellowships are available to individual poets and translators, as well as established working pairs, with fellowships awarded (and individuals ultimately paired) by a distinguished selection committee. If an established pair wishes to apply together, each person must submit an application and each must identify his/her preferred working partner. Applicants who wish to be considered as a pair should also select the same preferred residency dates. Due to the joint structure of these residencies, once an applicant (or pair) has been accepted, there may be little to no scheduling flexibility. For all VSC applicants, at least partial fluency of English is advised for participants to gain the greatest value from their residency experience. In addition to rendering exceptional translations on paper, translators should also be conversant enough in the writer’s primary language to help facilitate exchange with their working partner.
By Eric Abrahamsen, February 6, '14
The deadline is May 26 for the Susan Sontag Prize for Translation, a 5,000 USD grant for a literary translation from Mandarin Chinese. Translators under 30 years of age can submit proposals for translations projects (fiction or letters) expected to be completed within a four-month period – July to November, 2014. See the link above for more details.
As China’s fiction “exports” pick up, it will be interesting to watch which novels and themes win an Exit Permit to foreign lands, and how they are received there . . .
By Charles Laughlin, January 23, '14
I write the following as a tribute to C.T. Hsia, as a student of his
and as a modest contributor to the field he created almost
single-handedly with the publication of A History of Modern Chinese
Fiction. I had been trying to visit Hsia over the course of the fall
semester because I had not seen him for about two years. But my own
difficulties prevented it until late December, when I had the
opportunity to visit him in New York on Dec. 19--as it turns out,
just one short week before he passed away.
I started my PhD studies in Chinese literature at Columbia University
in 1988, three years before C.T. Hsia retired, which means that I
took the full three years of PhD coursework under his direction. I
applied to six graduate schools, and Columbia was one of the two that
made compelling offers to me. My decision to go to Columbia was in
part based on an attraction to New York City, but the real reason was
the opportunity to study with C.T. Hsia; I had read his History and
The Classic Chinese Novel in college and was aware of his preeminent
stature in the field of modern Chinese literary studies. I had no
idea that the timing put me right at the end of his teaching career.
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"If you write in Japanese or Vietnamese or Portuguese you have to wait [...] to be translated, and translated literature never really works immediately as English literature unless it wins the Nobel or some big prize," Guo said. "In a way, the easiest and laziest way is to write in English. What a struggle to write in any language other than English.
I'm saying language is a passport. A dubious, dangerous passport, too."
By Lucas Klein, January 22, '14
In my letter to the MCLC list in support of Jonathan Stalling’s complaint that Xiao Jiwei’s LARB review of Mo Yan’s Sandalwood Death didn’t mention translator Howard Goldblatt, I wrote,
the quantity and quality of translations from Chinese to English (by which I mean primarily, but not only, literary translations) cannot be separated from questions of how our societies approach translation in general. And a big part of that is how we treat translators: are translators acknowledged? Do translators get paid well for their work, get their names on the covers of their books, have their work credited when up for promotion or tenure? In short, are there incentives in our society for people to work as translators? And do our conversations about translation reflect a general understanding of the work translation involves, its importance, its difficulty, its shortcomings, its possibilities?
I concluded, “I do not agree that we can address or redress the general indifference to Mo Yan or Chinese literature, or that we can bridge contemporary Chinese literature and the world, without talking about translation … I hope we can combat that, for the benefit not only of Mo Yan or Howard Goldblatt, but for the benefit of our profession and fields of teaching and research.” In light of responses such as Jeffrey Wasserstrom’s, comparing translators to other figures who might get left out of reviews, such as book editors or cinematographers, I thought I’d delve a little deeper into my sense of why discussion of translation is an important part of the program for advocating for more and better translations.
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In a recent informal and informative interview in Chinese (探寻满语背后的文化圭璧), Shi Lixue chats about idioms and place names that bear a Manchu imprint. He points out that almost one-half of Jilin’s place names—including Changchun (长春), Jilin (吉林), Siping (四平), Liaoyuan (辽源) and Tonghua (通话)—are actually based on Manchu words . . .
A paradox of our times: apparently nobody can sit down and read a whole novel anymore, and yet people are still writing the damn things. A lot of ink and anxiety is expended over the first proposition—considerably more than over the latter, though the latter is far more interesting. Two prominent examples, from nearly opposite points on the globe: Tao Lin, based in New York City, and Murong Xuecun, the handle of Hao Qun, from Beijing.
If Funeral of a Moslem (穆斯林的葬礼，霍达著) is not well known in the West, neither are the Hui (回族), the “other” officially recognized Muslim people in China who actually number over ten million. Unlike the Turkic-speaking Uyghur of Xinjiang, the Hui are descendants of Silk Road travelers—Arab, Persian and Central Asians—who married Han Chinese and converted to Islam, itself introduced during the Tang Dynasty by Arab traders . . .
By Canaan Morse, January 16, '14
Poets! Yes, you. Beijing Cream and Pathlight: New Chinese Writing are excited to present Poetry Night in Beijing at the Bookworm Literary Festival on Sunday, March 16, a curated community event to promote English-language POETRY in this wonderful city of ours. We need your help.
We are seeking four poets enthusiastic about reading their work for a keen audience of peers and poetry lovers. There are no limits on theme, subject, or style, as long as the pieces are original and in English. Poems written with a strong voice that plumb the depths of honesty and emotion while remaining intellectually compelling will be favored.
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Ever since I completed my translation of Han author Chi Zijian’s Last Quarter of the Moon, set in the Greater Khingan Range (大兴安岭) that divides the Manchurian plain of northeastern China from the Mongolian Plateau of Inner Mongolia, I’ve been wondering: How would one of the indigenous nomadic peoples, an Evenki, Oroqen or Daur for instance, recount the tale of how they lost their mountains, rivers and shamans, only to face modern life in “fixed settlements,” or even as migrants to big cities where the Han dominate?
Ironically, thanks perhaps to a centuries-old separation from its origins in northeast Asia, the Xibe language (锡伯语)—closely related to Manchu, the language of the Qing Dynasty rulers—remains a living language in modern-day northwest Xinjiang. Most Xibe are concentrated in Qapqal Xibe Autonomous County, descendants of Manchu soldiers first dispatched in 1764 from Shenyang, Liaoning to garrison the frontier . . .
By Canaan Morse, January 10, '14
Pathlight: New Chinese Writing is currently looking for a Graphic Design Intern to work alongside its English-language editorial team as they prepare to launch a brand new website and expand other operations over the upcoming months.
The suitable candidate must be based in Beijing and will be expected to commit for a period of 16 weeks, helping out with a wide range of creative projects, including (but not limited to): overseeing online advertising campaigns, producing promotional materials, designing and updating logos and online avatars, and exploring merchandising avenues.
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Dr. Hsia, colorful and contentious, did not back down from critics. He argued that Chinese writers suffered from an “obsession with China” and that they did not embrace universal human concerns that transcend China’s borders.
By Nicky Harman, January 8, '14
I (Nicky) was very struck by JS's review of a review in LA Review of Books of Mo Yan's Sandalwood Death. It appeared on the MCLC list. His words immediately reminded me of the endless debates we've had in UK among translators, about how we'd like our translations reviewed, and the struggles to remind even long-established cultural institutions like the BBC that translations of poetry and fiction should be credited when they are broadcast, not treated as if the author had originally written in English. With Jonathan's permission, I have reproduced his letter to the list here. In the event, it sparked off a lively debate, including contributions from the reviewer, Jiwei Xiao, herself. Those interested can join the list to read the whole thread.
.................................
I was quite excited to discover that at long last the LARB had published a
review of Mo Yan’s Sandalwood Death. As the editor of the CLT Book Series
that published Howard Goldblatt’s English translation of the novel at the
beginning of 2013, I had all but given up on the LARB reviewing it. By the
time I reached the end of this substantial review, however, I had to face
a rather peculiar and unsettling reality: after nearly 2,400 words, the
reviewer, Jiwei Xiao, never mentions the fact that the book she is
reviewing is Howard Goldblatt’s English translation of Mo Yan’s novel. I
may be a bit more sensitive to this omission given the fact that I, as the
editor and a translator myself, am quite excited by the attention
Goldlatt’s translation is getting from the translation community: the book
has already been nominated for several awards, and, in fact, only a few
months earlier Goldblatt had been interviewed by LARB about his
translation work!
So while Xiao quotes liberally from the English text (sans citations), she
never mentions even once that the book under review is not《檀香刑》, which
was
published well over a decade ago, but is instead its English translation.
Of course, any review of translated literature will necessarily focus on
the merits of the original, but at the very least professionalism requires
a reviewer to acknowledge the work of the translator in some form. Most of
the time readers rely on a review to find out whether a book is a good
read in English, so it is important for a reviewer to offer a critical
opinion on this matter so the reader can make an informed decision. In
this review, however, the reader is invited to enter the original text as
if it were still in Chinese, yet miraculously transparent to the English
reader’s mind.
The reviewer spends a fair amount of time discussing the “dissonant
sounds” upon which “the novel was inspired,” and while Mo Yan’s aural
ingenuity naturally rests at the heart of the reviewer’s commentary, it is
important to note that these aural textures were delicately and boldly
translated into English by Goldblatt. In fact, I would argue that these
challenging moments constitute some of the most formally experimental—and
successful—moments in Goldblatt’s esteemed career. When I first read the
translated manuscript, I marveled at his ability to imbue the English with
a parallel set of aural textures (rhyme, meters, vocables, etc.),
producing often uncanny results.
Yet this is not really what left me feeling so uneasy. Instead, I fear
that there remains a deep and stubborn refusal to take translation (and
translation studies) seriously enough within both Chinese Studies and our
broader public literary culture (after all, the LARB editors must have
first read this piece before publishing it). I am not going to speculate
on the latent ideological (or epistemological) conditions that undergird
moments like these, but I do feel we must take such opportunities to
refocus attention on the collaborative nature of world literature
translated into English. As most people know, literary translators are
incredibly important cultural producers and yet most of them struggle to
make a living wage from their work. In fact, a recent report by the
Conseil Européen des Associations de Traducteurs Littéraires concludes
with the following observation: This survey clearly shows that literary translators cannot survive in the
conditions imposed on them by "the market". This is a serious social
problem on a continent that is meant to be developed, multilingual and
multicultural, but it is also and most importantly a very serious artistic
and cultural problem. Indeed, what does it say about the quality of
literary exchange between our societies if literary translators are forced
to dash off their work just to be able to earn a basic living?
The objectives outlined by UNESCO in its 1976 Nairobi Recommendation are
far from being realised, that is the least one can say. It’s time to act!
(www.ceatl.eu)
What is true in the European context is even worse in the US (and for
Chinese-English-Chinese translation, the pay scale of which is often
calculated in RMB as a way of lowering the cost). Translators work for
many of the same mysterious reasons writers do—not because it pays well
(though I hope this can be remedied soon), but to contribute to the
cultural work of our time, to participate in the global conversation of
literature itself. If our work as translators is not discussed in reviews
of our work (or even simply acknowledged), when, pray tell, will it be?
It is important for me to note, however, that I believe Professor Xiao
would have gladly incorporated her thoughts on the translated nature of
the text had it been brought up in the editing/review process, or if it
had been listed as a prerequisite on the LARB contributor information
page, or if there existed broader university support of and
academic/prestige capital invested into translation inside the realm of
Chinese Studies. So I do not wish for the instructive moment of this
review to be reduced to a critique of this review alone (for clearly
Professor Xiao has many interesting things to say about this novel), but
as a general reminder to all reviewers (and to those of us who publish
them) to spend a moment engaging with (or better yet, exploring) the
translative nature of world literature, for this is our responsibility,
not to mention one of the great joys of our work.
Jonathan Stalling
Chinese Literature Today
Liu Daxian (刘大先), the holder of a Ph D. in literature and member of the editorial board of Studies in Ethnic Literature (民族文学研究), has just published the equivalent of a fairly comprehensive review of China’s 2013 "mainstream" ethnic fiction scene (2013 少数民族文学综述) . . .
Born in Shanghai in 1921, C.T. Hsia, also known as Hsia Chih-tsing, moved to the United States in 1947, later becoming a professor at Columbia University. Though he adored Western literature, he is best known for introducing Chinese literature to the West amid the information vacuum about China that characterized the Cold War, and establishing a literary canon that lasts to this day, Mr. Wang said.
...
In the 1950s, there was no field called modern Chinese literature, so the publication of his book in 1961 ["History of Modern Chinese Fiction"], that was a big thing. That was a book that made him famous in the West. As a result, a discipline was established.
...
One cannot start any new study of Chinese literary modernity without first consulting, challenging, or at least reflecting his opinions.
By Lucas Klein, January 1, '14
UK's The Guardian is out with a set of "1000 novels everyone must read: the definitive list"--and this is definitive, people, so if you haven't read a thousand novels in your lifetime, or not these particular thousand novels, then really there's no accounting for you.
The Guardian doesn't let on what's going to happen if you don't read these novels, but let's just say I don't want to be around to find out (fortunately, the list isn't titled "must read before you die," as some are, so that should buy us all a bit more time).
Anyway, as you may recall, I raised a stink about Flavorwire's "50 Works of Fiction in Translation That Every English Speaker Should Read" not including a single work in Chinese. Fortunately, Chinese fiction fares better when it comes to the top thousand in any language: two whole novels! That's 0.2% of the best long fiction written in the history of the world! Chinese fiction isn't in such bad shape, after all!
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On December 28, the 2013 Nationalities Literature Magazine Awards (年度奖) were handed out to 23 works in five categories: novel, short story, poetry, translations into Mandarin from other languages indigenous to China, and translations from Mandarin into English. Only texts published in one of the six editions of the magazine (民族文学)—Mandarin, Kazakh, Korean, Mongolian, Tibetan, and Uyghur—were eligible . . .
Already home to the world’s biggest online literature web sites—some of which charge readers a wee fee for the privilege—and fan base, China is forging ahead to form the marketeers of the future . . .
Announcing the Ancient Asia Issue of Cha (December 2013), featuring new translations of Chinese poetry by Xi Chuan, Tao Yuanming 陶淵明, Du Fu 杜甫, He Qifang 何其芳, Xiao Kaiyu 肖开愚, Liu Yong 柳永, the Shijing 詩經, Laozi 老子, Du Mu 杜牧, and Li Shangyin 李商隱, and new work by Eliot Weinberger, Matthew Turner, Eleanor Goodman, Sharmistha Mohanty, and Jonathan Stalling.
By Nicky Harman, December 13, '13
Here's this year's list, compiled by Nicky Harman and Helen Wang. Feel free to add any we've missed out:
Ten Loves by Zhang Yueran , translated by Jeremy Tiang , pub. Math Paper Press, Singapore
Island of Silence by Su Wei-chen , translated by Jeremy Tiang , pub. Ethos Books, Singapore
Durians Are Not The Only Fruit by Wong Yoon Wah , translated by Jeremy Tiang , pub. Epigram Books, Singapore
Tongwan City by Gao Jianqun, translated by Eric Mu, pub. CN times Books.
I can almost see the clouds of dust, poems by Yu Xiang, translated by Fiona Sze-Lorrain, pub. Zephyr Press and Chinese University Press of Hong Kong (bilingual)
Canyon in the body, poems by Lan Lan, translated by Fiona Sze-Lorrain, pub. Zephyr Press and Chinese University Press of Hong Kong (bilingual)
Wind says, poems by Bai Hua, translated by Fiona Sze-Lorrain, pub. Zephyr Press and Chinese University Press of Hong Kong (bilingual)
Other Cities, Other Lives by Chew Kok Chang , translated by Shelly Bryant , pub. Epigram Books, Singapore
Mr Ma and Son by Lao She , translated by William Dolby , pub. Penguin Modern Classics
Cat Country by Lao She , translated by William A Lyell , pub. Penguin Modern Classics
Irina’s Hat: New Short Stories From China by Authors and translators various , translated by ed. Josh Stenberg , pub. Merwin Asia
Last Quarter of the Moon by Chi Zijian , translated by Bruce Humes , pub. Harvill Secker
The Song of King Gesar
by Alai , translated by Howard Goldblatt
, pub. Canongate Books Ltd
Black Flame by Gerelchimeg Blackcrane , translated by Anna Holmwood , pub. Groundwood Books of Toronto, Canada (in association with Anansi Books)
For a Song and a Hundred Songs: A Poet’s Journey Through a Chinese Prison by Liao Yiwu , translated by Wenguang Huang , pub. New Harvest Books
The Matchmaker, The Apprentice and The Football Fan by Zhu Wen , translated by Julia Lovell , pub. Columbia University Press
The Earnest Mask by Xi Ni Er , translated by Howard Goldblatt & Sylvia Li-chun Lin , pub. Epigram Books, Singapore
The Man With The Compound Eyes, by Wu Ming-Yi, tr Darryl Sterk, pub. Harvill Secker
Every Rock a Universe: The Yellow Mountains and Chinese Travel Writing, writings by 17th century poet and artist Wang Hongdu, translated by Jonathan Chaves (Floating World Editions). Review forthcoming in Chinese Literature: Essays, Articles, Reviews.
Search for the Buried Bomber, by Xu Lei, tr. Gabriel Ascher, pub. AmazonCrossing
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