Tag Archives: Samanta Schweblin

International Translation Day 2017

International Translation Day occurs every year on 30th September to celebrate the work of translators in publishing. It’s a good day to celebrate their work and it’s a good day to focus on books in translation. We need to do this from time to time because books in translation do not form a very large part of our reading diet – just 4%. Not much is published, not much is read.

Fiction in Translation

Daniel Hahn is a translator. He suggests that literary translations are founded on these principles:

It assumes that just because you’re from Here doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be reading stories from There. That it’s possible to strip a story of its language, wrest it thousands of miles, re-clothe it in a strange new language, and keep its essence intact – because stories can be citizens of the world, just like we can. That just because something is particular doesn’t mean it’s not universal. (A basic principle for all great literature, surely?) That openness to other literatures – and other narratives, and lives, and worlds – doesn’t threaten our own, it strengthens and enlivens it.

[From Carrying Across, in The Author, Summer 2017].

Only 4% of fiction published in the UK is in translation. Of that 4% about 20% is by women. Partly to correct this Meytal Radzinski who writes the Biblibio blog promoted events with the hashtag #WITMonth: Women in Translation month for August, and encouraged people to join in. This year it was very successful again. There were articles in advance that included lists of recommendations. Here’s an example: 13 books by women writers to add to your Reading List for #WITMonth from the Booksatchel Blog. And here’s another list from Jacquiwine’s blog for the same event.

And recently (13th September) the long list for the Warwick Prize for Women in Translation has been published. You can find it here.

These events and posts feature many recommended books in translation.

On Bookword

To maintain the impetus of #WITMonth I announced in August my project to read at least one book by a woman in translation every month and to write a response here on Bookword blog. These are my reasons:

Fiction in English does not hold the monopoly on quality. A great deal of excellent fiction is written in other languages. If the job of fiction is to take you to new worlds I want to explore those other worlds written in another language as well as those in English. Promoting fiction in translation is part of my intention for this blog.

Fiction by men does not hold the monopoly on quality either. Promoting fiction by women is another purpose of my blog. Women’s fiction gets less space in the printed media than men’s. See VIDA statistics for how much less.

I will promote women in translation over the next year or so and I am doing this at a time when popular culture favours creating barriers not making connections across language and gender. I hope you will be inspired by some of my choices.

Here are recommendations from the last 12 months, some of which appear in the linked lists and posts above:

Mirror, Shoulder, Signal by Dorthe Nors, translated from the Danish by Misha Hoekstra.

Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan, translated from the French by Irene Ash.

Woman at Point Zero by Nawal el Saadawi, translated from the Arabic by Sherif Hetata.

Fever Dream by Samanta Schweblin, translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell.

I’m planning to read these novels very soon:

The Quest for Christa T by Christa Wolf, (1968) translated by Christopher Middleton.

Go, Went, Gone by Jennifer Erpenbeck, (2017) translated by Susan Bernofsky.

Over to you

Tell us which novels in translation would you recommend from your reading?

To receive email notifications of future posts please subscribe by entering your email address in the box.

4 Comments

Filed under Books, Reading, Reviews, Women in Translation

Fever Dream by Samanta Schweblin

A dark tale, inventively told, chilling because the reader is prevented from pausing. The pages must be turned, the end must be encountered. Fever Dream is my choice for September’s Women in Translation, written by the Argentinian writer Samanta Schweblin and translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell. It was also chosen for the short list of the Man Booker International Prize in 2017.

Disturbing

The framing of this novel requires the reader’s attention in order to make sense of what is happening. Amanda is lying in bed in a clinic, and she is dying. Beside her is David, a young boy. The narrative is told through their conversation. David’s contributions are in Italics. Here is the opening paragraph.

They’re like worms.

What kind of worms?

Like worms, all over.

It’s the boy who’s talking, murmuring into my ear. I am the one asking questions.

Worms in the body?

Yes, in the body.

Earthworms?

No, another kind of worms.

It’s dark and I can’t see. The sheets are rough, they bunch under my body. I can’t move, but I’m talking.

It’s the worms. You have to be patient and wait. And while we wait, we have to find the exact moment when the worms came into being.

Why?

Because it’s important, it’s very important for all of us. (1-2)

So Amanda retells the story of how she came to be in the emergency clinic, prompted by the boy, who frequently draws attention to the important thing.

The story begins when Amanda met David’s mother, Carla. But she must report what Carla told her about what happened to David before that. The reader must follow these strands, the conversation at the bedside, and the story of how Amanda became ill and Carla’s story about David. And there is another player, Nina. Nina is Amanda’s daughter, and in danger.

Concentrating hard, the reader discovers that Amanda and her daughter Nina were on holiday in the area when they were befriended by Carla. But Carla has a dark story about her son David and the reader must stay in this complex narration to find out about the important thing.

There is transmigration, unexplained events involving horses, plastic liquid containers, sandals, pools and streams, witches …

Rescue Distance

It’s a disturbing story, playing on one’s fears as a parent. Amanda is always aware of what she calls her rescue distance from Nina.

I always imagine the worst-case scenario. Right now, for instance, I’m calculating how long it would take me to jump out of the car and reach Nina if she suddenly ran and leapt into the pool. I call it the “rescue distance”: that’s what I’ve named the variable distance separating me from my daughter, and I spend half the day calculating it, though I always risk more than I should. (16)

The concept is well known in Argentina. Indeed the title of the novel in Spanish is Distanca de Rescate. I think it would be a better English title as well: Rescue Distance. Fever Dream implies an ending that goes, and then I woke up and it was all just a terrible dream.

Amanda is not able to stay within rescue distance of her daughter for, as she tells David, the sequence of events result in the condition that brings her to the clinic. The anxieties, fears, terrors of being a parent drive this novella.

The darker secret is not the monstrous child, the woman with healing powers in the green house, the horse that escapes or the husbands. The frequent mention of water is the clue.

The important thing is that David was poisoned by the water in the stream and Amanda and Nina were soaked while they watched men unload water in plastic drums. As David says,

It’s a very bad thing. (73)

The world is being poisoned. Here is Amanda’s husband returning to the city, and the final sentences of the novella.

He doesn’t look back. He doesn’t see the soy field, the streams that crisscross the dry plots of land, the miles of open fields empty of livestock, the tenements and factories as he reaches the city. He doesn’t notice that the return trip has grown slower and slower. That there are too many cars, cars and more cars covering every asphalt nerve. Or that the transit is stalled, paralysed for hours, smoking and effervenescent. He doesn’t see the important thing: the rope finally slack, like a lit fuse, somewhere; the motionless scourge about to erupt. (151)

Reading this novel is not a pleasant experience. But its twisted narration when unpicked reveals a brutal truth, an inconvenient truth as Al Gore called it, that we may not be able escape.

Some links to reviewers’ comments

Here’s a review in the New Yorker by Jia Tolentino from January this year: The Sick Thrill of “Fever Dream”.

And here’s a review on the blog Lizzy’s Literary Life.

The Guardian review of Fever Dreams, by Chris Power, expressed admiration for the craft of the writer in cranking up the tension and its clever structure.

Fever Dream by Samanta Schweblin, published by Oneworld Publication in 2017. 151pp. Translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell.

To subscribe and receive email notifications of future posts on Bookword please enter your email address in the box.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Books, Reading, Reviews, Women in Translation