Small world: Impac prize’s version of global literature is distinctly parochial (द गार्डियन से साभार)

The 2015 International Impac Dublin literary award’s 142-book longlist, announced this week, looks to be world-spanning, with 49 novels in translation from 16 different languages, nominated by libraries in 114 cities and 39 countries. But a closer look at the longlist for the €100,000 prize turns up a number of questions. Where are the books from African and Indian languages? Nothing in Arabic? Or Japanese?

The prize gathers its longlist from libraries around the world. But as MA Orthofer notes over at The Literary Saloon, the prize “has as many nominators (one) from Liechtenstein as it does from all Africa”. There were no Arab libraries nominating titles for the 2015 prize, nor any from Japan, and there is only one from South America. The blogger at Travelling in the Homeland writes that the single nominating library from India doesn’t fit the prize’s “public” criterion, as it’s a privately run, members-only cultural centre. All three of its nominations were written in English.

Over its 18 years, the Impac prize has highlighted a lot of books in translation, but these have mostly been from European languages. In 2014, the first year the prize listed the nominated books’ language of origin, there were none from non-European languages. For the 2015 prize, there are two from Korean, one from Chinese, and one from Malay.

But these translations raise yet more questions about the best way to find great books from around the world. The two Korean titles were nominated by the “Literature Translation Institute of Korea Library”. According to Orthofer, the same institution subsidised their translation into English. Returning to Liechtenstein: its national library nominated Kurt J Jaeger’s self-translated and self-published The Abyssinian Cache, and it’s hard to believe they weren’t prioritising the author’s nationality above other considerations.

With big languages like Hindi, Bengali, and Arabic, the prize has had few relations. There were no nominees translated from Arabic for its first eight years. Then, when a few translations popped up between 2004 and 2011, they were a strange mix. Alaa al-Aswany’s Yacoubian Building, translated by Humphrey Davies, is understandable, but his Chicago? And Girls of Riyadh is an interesting, popular book, but the book’s English version was disowned by its translator, Marilyn Booth. Samuel Shimon’s Iraqi in Paris could have been a good choice for the prize, but the nominated English version was a composite of different translators’ work. The book has since been re-translated and re-released.

For all the prize’s 18 years, there has been no work by Elias Khoury, no Hanan al-Shaykh, no Bensalem Himmich, no Ibrahim al-Koni, no Fadhil al-Azzawi.

Having more South American, African, and Asian libraries among the nominators might be one stab at a solution, but with a qualification. The Alexandria Library is no less likely than Lichtenstein’s to nominate a local favorite. As Orthofer writes, “surely the first rule here should be: you can’t nominate a book by an author from the country you represent.” This would be an unpopular restriction, but not an impossible one.

The Impac’s 18 winners have been an international bunch, with a respectable eight of 18 being translated from another language. But the languages are also the usual few: two from Spanish, two from the French, one German title, one Dutch, one Norwegian, and a single outlier from a non-European language – Orhan Pamuk’s My Name is Red, translated from the Turkish by Erdag M Göknar.

There are undoubtedly great authors on the Impac longlists, and it’s quite ambitious to bring together a 142-book list from around the world, nominated by judges from around the world. But to be truly bibliodiverse, the prize needs to work harder to forge new connections.

द गार्डियन से साभार

Lots in translation (द हिंदू से साभार)

After having waited in the wings for so long, translations are slowly moving centre-stage

Aarachar drew much attention, both good and not-so-good. Yet, when K. R. Meera’s novel with a gender-neutral Aarachar for title became the Hangwoman in translator J. Devika’s hands, it took to the skies. The translation wriggled and made space for itself, particularly, in the national media. Publisher Hamish Hamilton, an imprint of Penguin India, planned Hangwoman’s publication and promotions meticulously. Meera’s book and Meera earned welcome reviews in mainstream, English publications. This mirrored signs of change. Translations are no more sitting at the fringes; instead, from what is a concerted effort from big-time publishers, naturally bi-lingual translators and solid original works, it is moving centrestage. Aggressive book promotions typically ear-marked for Indian writing in English, is now happening with translations too and they are the better for it.

A progression

R. Sivapriya, executive editor at Penguin India, and who specialises in translations, says the new turn for the publishing firm began when they brought out Benyamin’s Goat Days. “Penguin has been publishing translations since its inception in India. But with Goat Days in late 2012, the way we published and promoted translations changed,” says Sivapriya. The publisher’s instinct about the book also had to do with the uniqueness of the tale it told. “Goat Days was the right book at the right time. It could travel well with translation. It could speak to anyone anywhere,” says Sivapriya.

A renewed focus on translations, she points out, came from the firm belief that the “most exciting writing was happening in Indian languages.” “We knew we cannot ignore it and if we are doing translations, we rather do it well,” says Sivapriya.

Painstaking translated and edited, the works are given a new life with stunning covers and succinct blurbs. “We pitch in with a full-scale campaign. For Goat Days, along with the books sent to the press went a two-page note on the author,” says Sivapriya. Goat Days too invited considerable media attention and also made it to the Man Asian Long List. “Till date we have sold 7,000 copies of Goat Days. It is definitely not a patch on the Malayalam numbers. I cannot really say if the press attention means better sales. The numbers for translation are getting marginally better,” she adds.

Penguin followed up Goat Days with Shamsur Rahman Faruqi’s The Mirror of Beauty, translated from Urdu and Sachin Kundalkar’s Cobalt Blue from Marathi among others. “The buzz about Hangwoman was really good ,” says Sivapriya.

If translations are a growing presence, Anita Nair who has reviewed Hangwoman, translated Thakazhi’s Chemeen to English (published by HarperCollins) and is a popular Indian author writing in English, believes the quality of translations has been key. “Yes, publishing firms have opened out. The emergence of a new crop of translators who have equal felicity in both languages mean fluid translations. The media too recognises the need to woo in readers. So what I see is an organic synergy,” says Anita.

Anita understands a translator’s dilemma and hence finds the efforts of those such as J. Devika and Gita Krishnankutty praiseworthy. “Translators walk a very fine line between art and craft. A lot of translators who are working now have some kind of literary background. Translations then become seamless,” she says.

K. Satchidanandan, poet and writer, too believes the blossoming of a true bi-lingual generation is a blessing. “They are truly confident in English and have sufficient knowledge in their mother-tongue,” says the veteran author whose works have been translated into multiple languages including English. Satchidanandan, who lives in Delhi, says he has seen “very evident change” in the sphere of translations in the past five years or so. “Lack of very good works in English would have also forced the mainstream to turn to translations,” he says.

Documenting change

Satchidanandan traces the change to the time Macmillan came out with a series of Indian novels in translation some years ago. “It was a great beginning which went on for three to four years. Since then, others like Oxford University Press, Orient Blackswan and Penguin have came in. A pioneering publisher in the field was Katha, entirely dedicated to translations,” says Satchidanandan.

With more prizes now introduced for translations, attention on it is naturally more, he says. “The DSC prize for South Asian literature could be for an original or translated work. The translation of U.R. Ananthamurthy’s Bharathipura was shortlisted for the Man Booker in 2013. All these have given the translation agenda a push,” says Satchidanandan.

Unlike mainstream Indian writing in English, translations are often about the most talked-about and popular regional works of a time. Sivapriya talks of the invisible filter in place while picking out works for translations. “In the last couple of years, we have brought out apart from Malayalam, works in Urdu, Hindi, Marathi and Tamil. With translations, one gets to choose the best. With Goat Days, we were figuring out how to go about it. By the time we got to Hangwoman we have got better at it. Both these books are our biggest success,” she says.

The choice of books translated of late has been vital, agrees Satchidanandan. Be it Goat Days or Nalini Jameela’s The Autobiography of a Sex Worker or Hangwoman, the narratives focus on experiences that are new to the reader. “Goat Days talked about the terrible misery of an ordinary job seeker in the Middle East and Hangwoman as an idea was something hardly written about. So more than the art of these novels, it is the fresh life experiences they talked of which made them click with Indian middle class readers,” says Satchidanandan. Whether these novels are classics are for the critics to decide, he says, but for the readers of the original and the translation, it smacks of life. “The scene is much better today when regional writers have a better opportunity to get noticed across the country,” says Satchidanandan. Attention may or may not mean sales. “With Meera’s novel it is too early to say,” says Sivapriya.

द हिंदू से साभार