What a fantastic ALTA conference that was over the weekend in Minneapolis, the fortieth anniversary of the association, with Lydia Davis and Tim Parks as perfectly matched yin and yang speakers on the passions and the torments of literary translation, and what wondrously talented and poised ALTA fellows I got to coach in their Friday reading (though none of them needed coaching): Aaron Coleman, Bonnie Chau, Ellen Jones, Zoe Sandford, Timea Sipos, and David Smith; and what great panels and roundtables and speakers all around, including Lucien Stryk prize winner Jennifer Feeley, Cliff Becker Prize winners Anne Fisher and Derek Mong, National Translation Award in Poetry winner Daniel Borzutsky, and National Translation Award in prose winner Esther Allen!
And how exhilarated I am to be the local conference organizer for ALTA41 next year in Bloomington, Indiana—it is from Wednesday, October 31 to Saturday, November 3, 2018. Mark your calendars!
This piece by Miljenko Jergovic in my English translation was in the New York Times this weekend. I was impressed by the quality of the editing by Max Strasser. I’ve done a lot of editing, though not in a journalism vein, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. His light but confident touch was reassuring, as were the explanations for why he thought certain things needed expansion, omission, or re-ordering. The work of editing is often thankless, so I wanted to thank him here.
The content of the essay contrasted sharply with an idea that emerged from a symposium that was organized at Indiana University, Bloomington over the weekend, by Jacob Emery and Sasha Spector, which was focused on Sigismund Krzhizhanovsky. “Planting the Flag” was a somewhat intimate affair, with some thirty or so people sitting at one table, presenting their work and talking in depth about this re-discovered “classic” author (a phenomenon worth discussing unto itself) now being translated and published both in Russian and in English for the first time. K (for short) was almost unknown in his lifetime, a philosopher poet of sorts, though he wrote prose for the most part. I could never do justice to his work or the discussions at the symposium, so I won’t try here, except to note one thought that has stuck with me and is percolating.
It emerged from a discussion of the phenomenon of imagined but unwritten works, which it turns out is much more widespread than I realized. K explored it extensively and suggestively, and during our discussions the idea came to take shape for me in a compelling and provocative manner. While there is an infinite number of books that have been imagined but not written, there is a much more concrete sense in which each time a book is created in the world, it opens an absence and a potential in every other language for its translation. These are works that have been authored — for the author is the author even when the book is translated — but not yet written in the language of the receiving culture. They are authored but unwritten.