Wine and Books

They go really well together.

Kidding. Well, not actually kidding at all. But that's not what this is about.

So, more specifically: book reviews and wine descriptions. They're starting to get scarily similar.

No, I haven't started reading about "hints of oak" or "overtones of caramel" in book reviews. But you know the thing about wine descriptions: there are a select few people in this world whose palates are trained enough to be able to pick out those notes of plum or dark chocolate without being prompted. For the rest of the world, there's just a simple difference between good wines and bad wines. And for the most part, it's all completely subjective. Your own tastes determine whether a wine is good or bad to you, whether you'll enjoy it or not. There are a few wines that pretty much everyone agrees are universally good, but even there, everyone may have a different reason for drinking it.

The more book reviews I read, the more I think that books are just the same as wine. There are lots of good books out there, and lots of not-so-good ones. But move beyond that almost-universal dichotomy, even ever so slightly, and it suddenly becomes a matter of personal taste. I think Perec and the Oulipo crowd are fascinating; other people can't get over the craziness. On the flip side, I really appreciate the widely-acclaimed Maidenhair, but I still haven't managed to finish it.

I read a book for a class last spring that I thought was . . . fine.* I thought the book had some pretty ambitious and admirable goals, but that it didn't really achieve many of them. But there are other reviews out there, other readers who think the book was amazing. They've used words like "vibrancy" and "liveliness" to describe the author's writing. They speak of an "authenticity" in the retelling that I didn't see. They describe the "impassioned" and "arresting" story, which are very present emotions that I didn't feel.

I know book reviews can be extremely subjective, but there's also a rather large element of authority that we ascribe to many book reviewers. It's the same kind of trust we place in sommeliers and winegrowers, the ones who know the terroir, who know the kind of volcanic soil in Sicily that give this particular wine its peat-moss quality, the lack of rain in the third week of August in 2003 that causes the elevated sweetness of that particular Riesling, the bourbon barrels that age one of California's Cab Sauvs in a specific way. They know things, so we trust them.

But if you can't taste the peach, does that mean you're a bad wine drinker? If you don't feel "arrested" by the story, does that make you a bad reader?

No. Of course not. The beauty of humankind's variety, all our wide-ranging tastes, and all that. Personal preference will always have some sort of effect on our judgment of subjective artistic endeavors, whether experienced over our palate or through our brain. As long as you can explain why something didn't mesh with your tastes--in an intelligent fashion, without making personal attacks--your opinion is just as valid as any reviewer's.

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*This has no bearing on the author, whom I met--I think this person is pretty fabulous and a great speaker. I'm also purposefully not giving enough information to identify either the work or the author, since this is not about my personal experience with the book, but rather just looking at the general subjectivity of literary enjoyment.

Devil's Advocate

Here's a not-so-popular idea: translators should have the visibility of editors, not authors.

There was a whole uproar on a literary translators forum a while back about an article in the NYTimes, where David Gordon, an mid-range American author wrote about his strange and unexpected success in Japan. Translators were getting their panties all in a twist because said author never once mentioned his translator, who was probably single-handedly responsible for said Japanese success. Some even took him to task on his own blog for it, where he responded quite gracefully:

My translator's name is Aoki Chizuru and I certainly have thanked her, in person, in print and in public, in English and in Japanese, and have also expressed gratitude when receiving the awards for those who even made it possible for me to read the books I loved from Japan and elsewhere. She translated my second book as well and is working on the third. So don't worry!

Either way, it sparked a couple of comments from translators lamenting about the fact that authors and reviewers not only didn't mention their translators in print, but editors were also left out.

Editors are pretty much universally left out. As are publishing houses. And agents. And publicists. And foreign rights directors. All the damn time.

Far from being something to moan and whine about, this is instead just the normal course of business. There are always the players in the limelight, and the dozens of other people behind each one of them that makes everything happen. And it's not just in the book industry, either. How many producers do you know in the music industry, besides Brian Eno and Timbaland? How often are screenwriters publicly thanked and acknowledged for their work, besides the credits at the end of a movie and the Academy Awards (and even then, those awards might not be shown in the main broadcast)? How many times have you wandered through an old European city without knowing the names of any of the artists who sculpted the half-naked marble beauties in the park?

I'm not arguing that translators do unimportant work. Far from it. Translation is some of the most important artistic work out there, if such things can even be ranked on some sort of scale. But how do you compare a translator's importance and artistic merit with the original author? Or with an editor's influence?

And what if, as was mentioned in one of my classes recently, a book reviewer is working with an extremely limited word count -- 500 words, maybe even 300, a mere blurb. Feel free to take such reviewers to task if the translator's name is not mentioned in the metadata listing of the book, but if the translator gets glossed over in such a bite-sized review, it's not such a crime, really.

Related to that, there was a time when PEN's Translation Committee sent strongly-worded letters condemning a reviewer if they neglected to mention the translator in their review. Far from bringing about the expected change, many reviewers bristled quite a bit at such an attack. Their reasoning was that at least they were reviewing any translations in the first place. Which is a fair point.

There's a time and a place to thank everyone involved in a bringing a book to life, and hopefully, everyone all gets their proper due. But normally, the spotlight is fixed entirely on the author and his or her words, no matter how much revising or rewriting or writing their editor actually did throughout the whole process. Why should translators be treated any differently?

Whew. End thought experiment. For now.

(Disclaimer: as you can probably figure out by the title, I'm playing devil's advocate here. I'm not at all convinced by my own argument, but it's an interesting idea.)

(Also, there are plenty of articles out there playing rebuttal to this. See Words Without Borders and Asymptote's blog to start.)

Review Up on Three Percent

I wrote a review of the really gorgeously written and translated "To the Spring, by Night" recently. It's by Seyhmus Dagtekin, translated by Donald Winkler. The review is up at Three Percent. Go check it out!

Hopefully, it persuades you to read the book. Because it's a really good book.

Holiday Haul

Oh hello there, stranger. Happy merry holidays!

St. Jerome was very good to me this year. (What? St. Nicholas can't have the monopoly on Christmas, especially where translators are concerned.) As usual, I got books, books, and more books. Also, the promise of books--apparently, two more (two!) are still en route. The ones that have already arrived are stacked neatly in descending size order on my desk, with two titles upside down: the French ones.

Curious? Here they are, from largest surface area to smallest:

Stylistique comparée du français et de l'anglais, Vinay et Darbelnet (review in English here)
Beyond Words: Translating the World, ed. by Susan Ouriou, from the Banff Centre
The Sonnets: Translating and Rewriting Shakespeare, ed. by Cohen and Legault

The above awesome book, from my thesis author.
Insiders' French: Beyond the Dictionary, Eleanor Levieux and Michel Levieux (example entries here)
Logodaedaly, or, Sleight of Words, Erzsébet Gilbert

Some of these books have been on my I-want-more-money-so-I-can-buy-all-these-books list for months, or even a couple of years. Here's to winter break and the ability to read as much as I want!

I never knew.

I loved them all so well. Moon Child, the gem, the dragon, the musty bookshop, the fire dashing from the sphinx's eyes, and the letters, the wordplay, the child of three B's, the old man of three C's, each chapter begun with the elaborately-drawn next letter in the alphabet...

"The Neverending Story" was one of my favorite books as a child. I crawled under my desk on the second reading to be like Bastian, curled up in the gym mats in the school attic. I made lists of character names for every letter in the alphabet. I tried to craft my own world for a neverending story. I cried. So many times.

It was probably the first exposure I had (or consciously remembered having) to meta-literature, reading about reading, being stuck in an endless loop of recording and reciting with the Old Man of Wandering Mountain.

But in all the dozens of times that I read and loved this (by now very well-worn) book, I never knew.

Guys...

Friends, Romans, countrymen...

Dear readers...

This book is a translation.

Yes. A translation. From German into English, by a man named Ralph Manheim.

This is why translations are important. Because a little girl who reads voraciously will fall in love with one of the greatest stories ever written, and will love the characters and the magical places, and will notice the language--the way the story is told--for the first time. And it will be the beginning of her wish to avoid movies based on books, because she'll realize that she can't bear to see someone else's imagination take the place of her own. And she'll learn how to notice more things, after it takes her at least five readings to see the two snakes from the cover of The Neverending Story on the cover of her own copy of "The Neverending Story."

And through all of that, she'll never notice it was a translation. Never stop to consider that it might be bad, or lesser, because it wasn't originally written in English. Because the mastery of the translator and the mastery of the author combine forces to make a brilliant book. And even though she's shocked, frankly rattled to the core fifteen years later when she discovers that this book has been all along what she now practices, that her eyes as a child must have skipped over the translator's name on the cover (ON THE COVER! of a Penguin book!) in favor of Bastian on the dragon in Fantastica, it only makes her more pleased. Here, finally, is the proof that translations can and do sell. Publishers will understand that, right?

Right?

Profitless Printing Through the Ages

The Genesee Country Village and Museum is awesome. 

Just putting that out there. 

I finally got to go see the historic village yesterday for the Smithsonian Magazine Museum Day , and I learned so much in three hours about life in the 18th and 19th centuries in Western NY. The most interesting bit to many people (including Mr. C) was the Civil-War-era replica of the Intrepid, a helium balloon used by the army.

The most interesting bit to me was the printing press.

Courtesy of the Genesee Country Village and Museum

Of course it was fascinating: the history of an industry that led to my own career, the typeset itself, kerning...everything. (On a side note: search Google for "kerning" and enjoy. You won't be disappointed.) 

But something the printer said surprised me...and then again, it didn't. He explained that being a printer was a white-collar job, much like a doctor or lawyer of the day. But unlike those other white-collar jobs, there was no profit in printing. A printer did his work out of a sense of duty to his neighbors and fellow townsfolk, to bring them the local, national, and even international news that they would never otherwise receive.

Huh. Sounds a bit like today's publishing and journalism, doesn't it?

Something really cool happened last night.

I showed up to Open Letter's first fall event in their Reading the World Conversation Series (more info about the next free event on Oct. 1 here, if you're in or near Rochester) . Chad Post, Open Letter's director and soccer aficionado, had warned me that his guest, the French author Jean-Marie Blas de Roblès, spoke English fine, but might need a little help.

I hadn't realized that was code for "Allison, you should grab a mic and sit on stage with us to interpret as necessary." 

It's no secret that I will never be a professional interpreter. I'm too much of a perfectionist, and I don't think quickly enough on my feet. Both well-known facts. At least to me. The world at large must have missed that memo. 

Because there I was, sitting on a little elevated platform with a warm, funny, and world-renowned French author, trying to keep up with Chad's rapid-fire English and catch any sudden switches of Jean-Marie's speech from halting English to fluid French, fielding questions from the audience. And none of it was perfect.

But it was good enough. 

It didn't matter that I gave two or three English choices for the one French word Jean-Marie queried me on. It didn't matter that I didn't have more context than "La preuve est...?" because the odds of "preuve" being "proof" were heavily in my favor.  It didn't even matter that I couldn't perform as a professional interpreter would, because in the end, he didn't really need me. I was there as a crutch, a cushion, a smiling safety net. And if that provided enough comfort for him to tell his wonderful stories of falsified biographies, hypocritical publishers, and thinly-veiled dick jokes, then I did my job right.

Still, I'm not ever going to add "interpreting" to my list of professional skills. I have too much respect and awe-filled admiration for interpreters to do that.

The Threat to Publishing Internships

Two unpaid interns sued Fox. And won.

Yep, it's true. As this Washington Post article describes:

"a federal judge in New York ruled this week that Fox Searchlight Pictures violated minimum wage and overtime laws by not paying interns who worked on production of the 2010 movie 'Black Swan.'"

Now of course, this ruling could get overturned by a higher court. Don't think for an instant that Fox won't appeal the ruling.

But for the moment, let's discuss another facet of the ruling; namely, the current legal test for employers to determine if their interns can go unpaid (from The Atlantic, emphasis mine:)

1. The internship, even though it includes actual operation of the facilities of the employer, is similar to training which would be given in an educational environment;
2. The internship experience is for the benefit of the intern; 
3. The intern does not displace regular employees, but works under close supervision of existing staff;
4. The employer that provides the training derives no immediate advantage from the activities of the intern; and on occasion its operations may actually be impeded;
5. The intern is not necessarily entitled to a job at the conclusion of the internship;
6. The employer and the intern understand that the intern is not entitled to wages for the time spent in the internship.

On first glance, these criteria seem entirely reasonable. But then we have internships with publishers. If employers are required to gain no advantages from the interns' work, then would interns be allowed to use and hone their writing skills in such a position? Because in a good publishing internship...

• an editorial intern learns to write cover copy, reader's reports, and sales blurbs
• a marketing intern learns to write pitches
• a development intern learns to write grant proposals, for the non-profits

And what about other creative internships? Journalism, graphic design, anything with creating copy or images. It's all fine and well to have interns practice creating such things, but it just makes more sense to let them practice on real projects. Higher stakes, more realistic working environment, and undoubtedly better guidance, as their work reflects directly on their boss. 

Unpaid internships are unquestionably abused by some employers, but the line between useful and exploitative is a bit murky. By these criteria, the only unpaid internship I ever worked would have been illegal. Except it was not only the best job I ever had, but it gave me an invaluable wealth of experience and connections for the publishing industry. You can't get that in many places. 

Granted, the only reason that internship at The New Press was unpaid was because I worked it after the economy crashed, when they almost had to shutter their entire press. But they didn't. They still hired interns, gave them a travel stipend, and fed them lunch once a week for a seminar. And they were committed to starting to pay interns again as soon as possible.

As it happens, they've delivered. If you're looking for a publishing internship in NYC, go apply here. 

The 5 Stages of Reading a Poorly-Written Book

Denial

There's no way this book could be that bad. One of my best friends, a great reader who also happens to be an indie bookseller, recommended it to me. Maybe I'm just really tired and thick-skulled right now. I'm sure it'll get better in the next chapter. 

Anger

Seriously?? Am I really reading this?! These characters are so flat I can't picture them in my head, little details are being introduced for no reason, the exposition is too dramatic for what follows, the sentences are simple enough a fourth-grader could understand everything, even the explicit and highly inelegant sex, and oh my God now there's Internet dating. I can't read this. You can't make me! 

Bargaining

If I can just finish the next five pages, the writing will get better. This cliche has already been used twice, so the next time will be the last. Maybe if I skim ahead to part three, I'll skip all the stuff that's putting me to sleep.

Depression

Why? Why does this book exist? It's 11pm on a Friday night and I'm curled up alone in my bed reading a book I don't like. What have I done with my life?  What has this author done with her life? Oh no...she's from the town next to my hometown. Its reputation is now ruined. And I can't do anything about that. How did this author even get published? *sobs*

Acceptance

Option #1: Yep. Screw this. The book is actually just that bad. Bye-bye. See ya. It is gingerly placed back on a shelf, never to be touched again. At least not before the next yard sale/book swap/donation.

Option #2: Yep. Just a bad book. Oh well. I'm already two-thirds of the way through. May as well finish it. 

In Search of French Literary Magazines

UPDATED FOR 2021

As important as it is for literary translators to read widely in their source languages, French literary magazines are hard to find in the States. Pretty thin on the ground. ("Just generally pretty trim," as Eddie Izzard would say.) I found several magazines and literary reviews the last time I was living in France in 2013, but a lot has changed since then. And on the other hand, the Internet is even more wonderful, and there are many things that are now much easier to find, read, or subscribe to online.

After reading many things, over many years, please allow me to present to you my highly skewed, biased, and unscientific reviews:

Still running

Welcome to the weird times that are the plague years. Here’s a fun result: these first two magazines have merged! “LiRE magazine littéraire” now lives online here. And it’s pretty good. (Original reviews here:)

LiRE (March issue): This magazine has it all. Released by the same company as L'Express (a weekly news magazine), it's bursting with news, features, thematic segments, reviews, five excerpts from upcoming novels, a couple interviews, and editorial content. It covers French books, foreign books, historical non-fiction, scientific books, essays, graphic novels, YA and children's lit, paperbacks, the works. And everything in this issue is well-written, engaging, varied, intelligent, and well-thought-out, no matter how short. It should be extremely useful both in following industry trends and reading new fiction.
Le Magazine Littéraire (March issue): Maybe I shouldn't have read this directly after LiRE. All I could do was compare the two, as they both purport to serve the same purpose...and this one fell at the other end of the spectrum. The content wasn't as varied. There was only one excerpt, and it was middling. The news seemed stale, or not expansive enough, or devoid of emotion. The thematic content (this month: vampires....wheee.....) overshadowed everything else, and didn't leave enough room for what I really cared about. Even the layout was grating. I was disappointed when I tossed it into the trash can (no recycling here), but not too sad.

Longcours (Spring issue): A very pretty, thick journal. But, as I realized when I started reading it, dedicated almost exclusively to long-form journalism. Very well-done long-form journalism, from what I've read. But only one short story. And although it was fascinating, that one thing is not enough to warrant a subscription. Still, I'll be flipping through it whenever I walk into a French bookstore.

XXI (Winter issue): Ditto the above, with a heavy sigh. Really well-done long-form journalism (has apparently won scads of awards), including graphic novel journalism, but not what I'm looking for right now. Kudos to them on their Manifesto for a new media, though (if you understand French, it's a good read).

A new tip from commenter Jason: Transfuge, which as he says, has “lots of interviews with artists whose work I then seek out.” It is really well done! I think I’m in love with their covers.

New arrivals

As my focus has become more Francophone than just French, so too have my reading practices. The good folks at Boutique Laterit have been invaluable in actually being able to get some of these gems to my door in the States. (And not just magazines, either! Books, DVDs, graphic novels, music… They’re really wonderful. Go buy things from them.)

Indigo Magazine (4 issues so far): A magazine of Madagascar, Réunion, and the rest of the Indian Ocean. Books, art, theater, poetry, culture in general…it’s packed with interviews, criticism, and creative works. It’s beautiful and has some powerhouse editors behind it. Well worth the cost.

Lettres de Lémurie (also 4 issues so far): Begun in 2018 by Malagasy-Réunnionais-French publishing house Dodo vole, it is perfect. (Perfect for me, at least. Maybe just perfect in general?) All literature, all Indian Ocean, French and Malagasy and Créole and translations, publishing new and already-successful authors alongside each other, with the most gorgeous covers… It’s the best. If you want to support the publication of the latest issue, check out their crowdfunding page.

The party’s over

Le Tigre ended in early 2015. But all their archives are STILL free online!
Le Tigre (March issue): This is an interesting magazine. I almost didn't grab a copy because their editorial mission includes the warning that they don't publish fiction. But no matter; this is a fantastic selection of artistic prowess. Wordplay, photojournalism, illustrations, and twisted essays thrive alongside each other. One spread takes a roadmap, marks out a few towns that have "real word" names, and makes sentences out of them, haunting and sad. I've also just discovered that all their archives are free online. Looks like I won't be reachable for the next week while I read ALL OF THEM.

Oof, friends, this was a hard one. Muze ended in 2009, tried a new format the following year, and ended for good in 2017. And now its publisher is…ultra-religious? I miss Muze.
Muze (Spring issue, April-June): Oh, how lovely this thick tome. Technically a female-oriented cultural revue, this journal really has its finger on the pulse of life. It seems. Everything includes a healthy dose of analysis, which I started skimming when it turned too philosophical, but it doesn't detract from the wonderful behind-the-scenes look we get at every single topic the journal undertakes. Every theme includes current happenings, cultural tie-ins, movies, psychology, art, poems, and fiction. And the physical thing is a beauty to behold. The cover is even embossed. A tactile and visual dream. Definitely going on the list of not-expensive-enough-to-prevent-me-from-ordering-an-international-subscription.

What else, friends? I’ve been stuck at home for two years now, so there has to be more that I don’t know. What have you found?

If you found this post helpful, you can buy me a tea (although it might say “coffee”).