In the preface of the formidable Narrative Poem, Yang Lian wrote: “Long must be identical with deep, and we have to make it new for a depth never before expressed.” This maxim is Yang’s contemporary grasp of the enormously, incomparably complex world of contemporary Chinese letters, which threads tradition with novelty, comprehension with inquiry, intelligence with intuition, and is profuse with dislocations, disruptions, oppressions, and erasures. Diving into this amassment—either as reader or translator—is often an overwhelming endeavour, so it is both a relief and a source of joy that such a thing like Paper Republic exists, an online hub that serves as a platform for new Chinese writing, a resource for Chinese-English translators, an extensive database, and the base of a vibrant community eager to share dialogue and talents. In our second feature for National Translation Month, we’re proud to shed a spotlight on their impressive accomplishments with a text written cumulatively by their brilliant team.
“Paper Republic began very simply as a group blog, run by translators of Chinese literature into English,” writes founding member Eric Abrahamsen. “It was 2007, four or five of us had found each other in Beijing, and we formed a sort of mutual support group/social club.”
Since then, Paper Republic has grown and changed almost beyond recognition; incorporated as a company, we’ve spent a decade making concerted efforts to interest western publishers in Chinese literature, producing book reports, and even dabbling in literary agency. A few years ago, however, we began to focus on readers and translators. We are now a registered charity/non-profit organization, made up of a team of volunteers based in America, UK, China, and Japan. In addition to providing information about Chinese literature to people in English-speaking countries, we promote new Chinese writing in translation, publish free-to-read short fiction and essays online, host an extensive database on Chinese writers and their English translators, mentor Chinese-to-English translators, and provide resources to schools teaching Chinese.
In order to introduce Chinese writers to the world, we started Read Paper Republic back in 2015—sourcing, translating, editing, and publishing one short story every single week for a year, completely free to read. It was a mammoth undertaking, and the fact that we managed to pull it off at all is testament to the generosity of the authors and translators involved. One of the things that is special about Read Paper Republic is that every story, no matter how experienced the translator, is edited by a member of the team, who also checks the text against the Chinese, assuring literary quality as well as accuracy. From the very first series, we had aspiring translators offering their work; our editing process is both beneficial to them, and also fits perfectly with one of our aims as a non-profit: to mentor new translators.
The original series of Read Paper Republic brought together familiar names like A Yi and Jia Pingwa (and yes, Lu Xun), with some that readers might not know: the Indigenous Taiwanese writer Liglave A-wu; Chen Xue, a key figure in the contemporary canon of Taiwanese queer literature; avant-garde poet Wu Qing; and Yerkex Hurmanbek, award-winning Kazakh writer and translator. We’ve also worked with One-Way Street Magazine and the Los Angeles Review of Books’ China Channel to run two series of literary non-fiction essays which explored topics from the writings of migrant workers from Beijing, to childhood poverty, to the art of corpse preservation, in order to present just a small sample of the vast vista of Chinese letters.
Most recently, we’ve explored some Chinese responses to the COVID-19 pandemic in Read Paper Republic: Epidemic. Short stories and essays are such an incredibly powerful form in Chinese, and they also make an accessible and compelling starting point for exploring China’s culture and writing. That’s what we believe—and it’s why Read Paper Republic is one of the most important things we can do, as a charity, to deliver on our mission of getting more people reading Chinese literature by giving them access to voices that don’t always make it through traditional publishing avenues—and this endeavour has proved to be both vital and rewarding. When we published “A Fortuneteller in a Modern Metropolis” by Liang Hong and translated by Mike Day, one of our readers wrote to say: “[This piece] is one of the most beautiful things I have ever read.”
Give-it-a-Go Translation was another recent project, switching the spotlight towards the essential work of translators. We posted the text, put out the call, and 124 people from around the world responded—a medley composed of readers of Chinese who wanted to try something new, aspiring translators, and experienced ones. We were thrilled by the response, if somewhat daunted by the thought of running the online workshops we had promised participants—intended to discuss and collaboratively compose what would be the final instalment in the Epidemic series. But what resulted were productive, rejuvenating, and heartening conversations between engaged and enthusiastic participants. Our partners, The Leeds Centre for New Chinese Writing, envisaged this project as a way of bringing translators together during the pandemic; it worked. The process lifted some of the afflictions of isolation, connecting individuals globally through the communal nature of language, especially during a time in which China was often villainized. It was a timely reminder of what collaboration offers as an approach to work, creativeness, or reflection, and of what the act of translation can be—a space for play, a medium for discourse, the glue for a community.
Such was the enthusiasm generated by Give-it-a-Go Translation that we followed it with a mini-project, Sunday Sentence, or 一周一句 (“One Sentence a Week”). This was a translation free-for-all tackling that week’s sentence—culled from Zhang Ailing, Jin Yong, Yeng Pway Ngon, Dorothy Tse, Lu Min, Sheng Keyi, Yan Ge, or Yang Dian—without any of the usual expectations; it was a chance for translators to explain their processes, challenges, what they enjoyed about the text, or didn’t. Outside of the classroom, “give-it-a-go” isn’t often uttered where translation is concerned: there are certain rules that must be followed (which ones depending on whom you ask) and only a sliver of the full range of work in a language will ever be deemed translation-worthy, for whatever reason. But games like these are often exuberant, imaginative, and surprisingly interesting—removing the (occasional) tortured nature of this craft, and allowing for the kaleidoscopic perceptions of language to be gathered and navigated within a single space.
Paper Republic’s focus has broadened and shifted over the years, and these are just some of the varied initiatives we take on. It sometimes feels like an uphill struggle to promote Chinese literature in translation—this year, for instance, not a single Chinese novel made even the longlist of any of the major western literary prizes. It’s beyond the scope of a single, brief text to analyze exactly why, but it is certainly true that in Chinese fiction, the themes and cultural content, genres, style, even length, are often unfamiliar to western readers. However, sometimes we have gratifying successes that make all the work feel worthwhile: Paper Republic has been quoted as a model, our stories have been translated onwards into other languages, and our translation games have inspired others as well—one French translator even tried one of the Sunday Sentences using a combination of already-posted efforts and Google Translate, and produced a very creditable result without knowing a word of Chinese! It’s all a long way from how the group blog started, but one thing has not changed: our enthusiasm for promoting Chinese literature in translation. In continuing, we hope that Paper Republic will continue to start conversations, bring translators together in a community, and spark readers’ enthusiasm for the best of Chinese writing.
Eric Abrahamsen is a translator, publishing consultant, and Paper Republic’s founder and Chair of Trustees. Nicky Harman is a translator, educator, and prolific networker. Emily Jones is a translator and consultant in branding and marketing. Dylan Levi King is a translator. Jack Hargreaves is a translator. Yvette Zhu is a translator and author. Yao Lirong is a translator and Paper Republic’s Beijing correspondent.
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