This past weekend, the last of May, we had the opportunity attend a conference that brought authors, translators, editors and interpreters together to talk about the international presence in France’s literary circuit. For us it was a chance to be a part of the literary conversation and, of course, a way to explore Lyon! We’ve share the experience between the four of us, starting with Grace, below.
Grace
After we arrived in Lyon on a beautiful sunny morning, we had lunch at the Villa Gillet with Alex Hertich, who was going to be leading a workshop for us later that day. Alex is working on a translation of René Belletto’s novel “Le livre.” He has already translated another of Belletto’s works entitled, “Mourir.” Alex is spending time in Lyon as part of a translation residency at Les Subsistances. You can learn more about Les Subsistances here: http://www.les-subs.com.
Before leaving New York, we had worked on translating excerpts from both of these texts in preparation for our workshop with Alex. Our discussion
Take word play, for example.
Belletto writes, “Un jour, je métamorphosai la rue des Martyrs en « la mue des rares tirs », au terme d’une histoire compliquée destinée à justifier la nouvelle appellation et à faire rire Anita.”
How would you translate « la mue des rares tirs » ? What are some of the ways that a translator might approach translating the sound of words, and not necessarily their meaning?
Alex walked us through how he went about it, and we each shared our own ideas. The workshop was a fantastic start to our time in Lyon!
Maria
[AU COEUR DES EMOTIONS
Mohammed Hasan Alwan, Arabie Saudite (Le Castor, 2011)
Céline Curiol France Un quinze août à Paris (Actes Sud, 2014)
Taye Selasi UK USA 2011 en publiant dans Granta The Sex Lives of African Girls.
Animé par Margot Dijkgraaf]
On Saturday, May 30 we attended “Au coeur des émotions,” a conference were we got the chance to explore the different emotions and passions that are involved in the act of writing, as well as the act of reading. The authors present were, Mohammed Hasan Alwan from Saudi Arabia who wrote Le Castor (2011), Céline Curiol from France who wrote Un quinze août à Paris (2014) and Taye Selasi from the United Kingdom and the United States who wrote The Sex Lives of African Girls (2011) — the discussion was mediated by Margot Dijkgraaf. The panel was confronted with this important question, asked by a young French student: Can one write about an emotion that one has never experienced before? As the authors looked at each other, trying to come up with a quick answer, Taye Selasi was the first to speak. She used a metaphor to describe emotions: a paint palette. She explained how each color represented an emotion. If you wanted to write about panic, for example, but you’ve never had an experience with such emotion, you can intensify the color or mix it with others to create the closest description to the emotion of panic. You could take, she explained, the color of fear and intensify it little by little until it seemed to reach a state of panic. Céline Curiol agreed with the statement, and added that they are writers of fiction, therefore the goal is to make the reader believe that what they are reading is true, even if it is actually a fictional emotion in a fictional plot. Taye Selasi also added how when writing, you have to dive into these deep emotions, be vulnerable, and immerse yourself in dark places to fully explore a character’s emotions. Over all, the conversation was both captivating and enlightening, it was truly an amazing experience learning how authors go about writing emotions in a novel.
Janet
Of particular interest to me was a rencontre titled, “Écirvains et éditeurs francophones : quel avenir ?” because I’m translating a book by a Haïtien author (Lyonel Trouillot). The discussion was lead by Daniel Maggetti, who sat between two authors, Max Lobé and Jean-Luc Raharimanana, and the two editors, Caroline Coutau (Éditions Zoé) and Jutta Hepke (Vents d’ailleurs). I was struck by the positioning of the authors and editors, and noticed that, where larger houses like Gallimard or Flammarion are directed by men, these two houses were being lead by women.
Maggetti started off the conversation by asking all present to define “francophone,” et là, déjà, le problem. It’s difficult to pin down, because in the worst sense of the term it means, “all writing by an author who wasn’t born in France.” I couldn’t help but immediately think of Nancy Huston, who despite being a resident of Paris most of her life, is still considered “francophonie” because she’s from North America. Max Lobe embraced the term, and said that “francophonie” was something that designated french writing that had been enriched by another culture and another language, that rather than being something that expressed a political dynamic (for her couldn’t speak on what the same term applied to politics indicates, though we got the sense that it was likely much more problematic), it expressed a situation where the French had been used in ways that would otherwise be impossible without the other culture’s influence upon the writer. Raharimanana however, bristled at the term, saying that it immediately put him in a box that doesn’t accurately depict his writing. He explained that his first literary influences, à la base, were classical French authors – such as what would be read in school – and would only discover Aimé Césaire and Fanon later. His writing is marked with this tension, and he sees in many ways this prose approximating contemporary “French” authors more than “Francophone authors,” though the experiences he describes are particular to someone from Madagascar.
Not only does the term classify him in a particular way that may not account for his literary influences, but it also creates a situation where he has problems getting his books into schools in his home country. The classrooms, which receive an education in classical and contemporary “French” authors, rarely have the opportunity to teach “francophone authors,” which to him indicates that, despite the beautiful linguist ideal that Lobe described, francophonie writing is regarded as inferior, or not as “necessary” in early education.
Jutta Hepke described the origins of the term, as something that has grown out of age-old distinctions between Paris and ailleurs, everywhere else, and that the role of the editors often means that in order to sustain their maisons d’édition, they have to balance the list with things that are more au courant with the tastes and modes of this Parisian center.
(Being interested in foreign rights and permissions as well as translation, what she’d say next was very insightful, and important, not just for those who was to edit and write, but for those who read.)
Hepke insisted that the term was something that had to contend with a larger economic model that is unifying, centrifugal, the opposite of what had been hoped at the dawn of the internet, and that because of this, it’s economically difficult to publish authors who can’t be packaged in a way that represents a previous best seller. She admonished everyone present to consider where they purchase books and the publishing houses they support, because purchasing everything on amazon doesn’t just put little booksellers at risk, it also puts little publishing houses at risk, who can’t pay the premiums to showcase their books on the front page. For her, to take on the term “francophonie” as an editor, means to resist the tides of homogenization and the cultural pull that Paris has over the literary scene.
Caroline Coutau, Lobe’s editor, explained the mission of Zoé Éditions, and that here, francophone writing is joined alongside translations, and old books that have fallen out of print. (Looking at Zoé Éditions’ site later, I thought that this is exactly the type of press I hope to work for.) The authors she seeks are those with a nuanced view of the world, a peripheral view, which often more accurately describes our modern way of living, as well as offering alternatives to that way of living. She too shares the economic woes that Hepke described, but said that it was well worth it; that if the term must be used, she’ll use it to indicate writers who have a larger vision of what’s happening around us, and are that much closer to a linguistic and philosophical truth.
Carrina
Even though the Villa Gillet workshop and the Assises were very interesting and informative, we also were able to go out and explore Lyon whenever we had free time between topics. The first night, we all walked along the Saône river before dinner. We took some pictures and just enjoyed the beautiful view and weather. The next morning, a couple of us walked up through the Jardin des Chartreux and saw a panoramic view of Lyon from the top of the gardens. Later that day, after we went to the first Assises for that day, all for of us walked through Vieux Lyon and then to the top of the Fourvière where we saw the Ancient Roman Theaters and La Basilique Notre Dame de Fourvière. The views of Lyon that could be seen all the way up the hill to the Basilica were breathtaking, and the Basilica was well worth the hike. The bright, pastel purples, blues, and pinks decorating the inside of the church were unlike any colors I’ve ever seen used in a church. Exhausted from the hike up, we all walked down through the gardens and were able to see some of the roses (which were presumably apart of the Festivals des Roses that was going on that weekend). I woke up early the next morning to go explore more of Lyon before the final Assises later that day. I went to the Place de Jacobins, Place de la République, and the Hôtel de Ville to see more of the roses for the Festivals. I’d never seen so many roses at once, and next to the white, crisp buildings around them, it looked like something out of a fairytale. It was a great thing to get to see before leaving Lyon and heading back to Paris!
French and the city 