Jente Posthuma’s striking, moving novel, What I’d Rather Not Think About, delves into the aftermath of an unthinkable loss: the death of a twin. In tracing the patchworked life of a narrator who has long thought of herself as one-half, Posthuma explores the complexities of our most intimate relationships with evocative reflection and unexpected humor. This distinct work and our July Book Club selection has been translated beautifully by Sarah Timmer Harvey, resulting in razor-sharp prose that navigates the most intricate aspects of our selfhoods—how we are with one another. In this following interview, Harvey speaks about her discovery of this novel and her translation process, as well as the intricate journey of following this book’s many thought-paths and references.
The Asymptote Book Club aspires to bring the best in translated fiction every month to readers around the world. You can sign up to receive next month’s selection on our website for as little as USD20 per book; once you’re a member, join our Facebook group for exclusive book club discussions and receive invitations to our members-only Zoom interviews with the author or the translator of each title.
Daljinder Johal (DJ): I’m curious about your background and your journey into translation. I read that you’re Australian-born but ended up living in the Netherlands, where you began reading and occasionally translating Dutch fiction and poetry. Was there a particular work that played a significant role in sparking this interest?
Sarah Timmer Harvey (STH): Of course. Back then, while learning Dutch, I relocated to the Netherlands at nineteen with the intention of staying for a year. That single year evolved into a fourteen-year stay. During this time, I was working at a university, which eventually led me to translation as a second career. It happened somewhat unexpectedly. I strove to read while learning Dutch, focusing on more accessible books such as Hermann Koch’s The Dinner and even Harry Mulisch’s The Discovery of Heaven—which, while not mainstream, deeply resonated with me.
Although my ultimate aspiration was to become a fiction writer, my job at the university kept me busy. I harbored dreams of pursuing an MFA in fiction writing, but that had to be postponed because the Netherlands didn’t offer MFA programs in fiction. In 2013, I moved to the United States, specifically to pursue such an MFA, and I landed at Columbia University in New York. Interestingly, Columbia had a robust translation track guided by the esteemed German-to-English translator, Susan Bernofsky. I initially intended to participate casually, just to stay connected with the Dutch language. However, learning from luminaries like Edith Grossman and Mat Yankovic, I ended up completely falling in love with translation. With this passion ignited, my focus shifted entirely.
This was the turning point that spurred me to intentionally seek out Dutch literature, and I delved into the works of emerging and younger writers. I started by translating Marieke Lucas Rijneveld’s poetry, and one of the initial books that captivated me was Jente’s debut, People with No Charisma, although it’s yet to be published.
During this period, I encountered Jente Posthuma’s writing and was immediately drawn to her unique perspective and style. I was still in grad school and relatively inexperienced, but I was bold. When I had the chance, I met with her previous publisher in Amsterdam; I marched in and said, “I think this is fabulous; please let me translate it.” But this effort didn’t lead anywhere. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Jente was in the process of transitioning to a different publishing house, so the project was temporarily shelved.
Fast forward several years to the pandemic, when one of my friends, Wesley, sent me a care package that contained What I’d Rather Not Think About. I picked it up, read it in one setting, and was reminded of how much I loved Jente’s writing. Spontaneously, I slid into her DMs. Within five minutes of that, I had received an email from her publisher, telling me that they had seen me post about Jente’s work on social media, and that they wanted me to write some samples for them to help get the book translated into English.
DJ: It’s truly remarkable how serendipity played a role, and your boldness certainly paid off. Could you delve into what it was like translating Posthuma’s second novel? I’ve seen an interview where she lists a myriad of themes, a complex balance of historical and contemporary references.
STH: Jente’s second novel is indeed packed with a multitude of themes. One aspect I found captivating is how the narrative mirrors the modern, distracted mind. The book’s threads often lead the narrator to Google random things, much like our habit of delving into rabbit holes online. Throughout the translation process, I could relate, finding myself navigating countless tabs while researching. Following the narrator down these rabbit holes was quite an experience, as Jente masterfully weaves these threads together. Some are evident to readers, while others require a bit more exploration.
Take, for instance, a reference Jente makes to a documentary series by Dutch journalist Wim Kayzer titled Of Beauty and Consolation. In this series, Kayzer interviews writers, philosophers, and artists on the essence of life’s beauty and comfort. To accurately translate it, I had to watch the documentary, since Jente quoted it extensively in Dutch. This intricate process involved ensuring accurate interpretation without misquoting anyone. One interview in particular caught my attention, where Kayzer subtly directs South African writer Coetzee towards a certain response. This scene reflects the tension between the interviewer’s intent and the interviewee’s intentions, much like how the narrator’s behavior is portrayed in the book.
Another challenge of translating from Dutch, especially the more straightforward Dutch spoken in the Netherlands, is capturing its brevity and understated tone. This style can sometimes sound too blunt or simplistic when translated directly into English. My challenge was to retain Jente’s distinct voice, her concise yet impactful writing, and the underlying beauty and subtext while avoiding lengthy explanations in English. This, I believe, comes with practice.
Fortunately, my collaboration with Jente has evolved over time. We’ve worked on various projects together, including a bilingual chapbook and flash fiction. These experiences have deepened my understanding of Jente’s perspective and style, allowing me to anticipate her intentions and convey them more efficiently in translation. This familiarity has significantly streamlined our communication, cutting down on the back-and-forth typical of translation work.
DJ: Shifting gears a bit, you’ve spoken about the power of reading as a means of connection. It’s often said that no reader is closer to a text than a translator. Given that this novel delves into intense themes of grief and profound loss, how did you experience the role of a translating reader?
STH: Jente’s humor is a significant element that comes into play here. Her dark humor serves as a way to engage the reader, to soften the weight of the subject matter. There’s a mix of laughing with and at the narrator, and she often unintentionally reveals her biases and blind spots, particularly when it comes to her brother. These moments of humor create a dynamic where the intensity of the subject matter can be absorbed with a degree of distance, when needed.
A song mentioned in the book, “Help Me Scrape the Mucus Off My Brain,” encapsulates this idea. The lyrics convey deep emotions, yet the upbeat and catchy melody contrasts with that heaviness. Similarly, Jente’s writing blends the weight of the subject matter with levity, allowing for a more complex emotional experience. Life isn’t one-dimensional; it’s a blend of emotions, absurdity, and different tones. This intricate interplay makes it easier for readers, including myself as a translator, to engage with the weighty topics Jente addresses.
DJ: You mentioned how the narrator, Two, often unwittingly reveals aspects of herself and her relationship with her brother. How did you find translating Two’s experiences with her mother? For instance, the mother initially expects great things for One, her son, but Two seems to perceive him differently.
STH: When dealing with Two’s mother, I had to approach her character separately from Jente’s first book, People with No Charisma, which heavily focuses on the mother. In this novel, Two’s mother comes across as a career-oriented person who’s doing her best, though she’s not the most emotionally present as a mother. She represents Two’s inclination to harbor expectations of those around her—whether it’s her family, friends, or boyfriend—often leading to unmet needs.
When translating, I aimed to approach each character with compassion and understand them through the lens of Two’s perspective. Two, being a reliable yet unintentionally revealing narrator, allows readers to see the limits of her perspective and, by extension, the perspectives of the other characters. It’s a layered dynamic that contributes to the richness of the story.
DJ: In the novel, the characters are named One and Two, emphasizing their twin identity. I’ve noticed this in my family as well, where we refer to the twins as “the twins.” This brings up a historical reference in the novel regarding the separation of twins during the Holocaust. Could you share some details about that particular historical reference?
STH: Of course. It’s a difficult topic to discuss, but I’ll do my best. In the concentration camps during the Holocaust, Dr. Josef Mengele, a Nazi physician, had a horrific obsession with twins. He conducted inhumane experiments on twins, often trying to understand the connections between them. These experiments involved inflicting pain on one twin to see if the other could feel it, along with other cruel inquiries. The story is deeply unsettling, and the novel references the historical fact that some twins were separated due to these experiments; some survived and were able to find each other again later in life, which is incredibly poignant and wild.
DJ: Given the multitude of themes and topics in the book, was there one that particularly resonated with you or drew you in more than the others?
STH: When I first read the book in 2020 during the lockdown, I was struck by the theme of reassessing relationships; it felt especially relevant as many of us found ourselves reevaluating our connections due to the isolating circumstances of the pandemic. The book delves into how we perceive our relationships, questioning both who we and others truly are, and how we react to unexpected situations. Exploring these aspects of deep-diving into relationships and uncovering new facets of people resonated with me and many other readers during that time.
DJ: There’s been a lot of intrigue online about sweaters and Two’s obsession with them. What were your initial thoughts about this aspect of the book?
STH: From the beginning, it was quite clear to me that Two’s obsession with sweaters was a form of comfort for her. Two’s dual obsessions, with her brother and her sweaters, are interconnected by the search for comfort. Her attachment to the sweaters reflects her desire to find solace, to encapsulate her sense of self. Her contemplation of her sweater collection mirrors her contemplation of her relationship with her brother. This connection was apparent to me, and I found it fascinating how one served as a metaphor for the other. One of my favorite quotes from the book is “By my 27th birthday, I had 142 sweaters, and it was high time I saw a therapist.” It embodies the complexity of her attachment to the sweaters and her understanding of it.
DJ: It’s interesting how the novel touches on both the twins’ interests in men, which serves as an early acknowledgment of their shared experiences. As the story unfolds, they each navigate finding relationships and seeking happiness. Their obsessions are quite different, and it’s not always immediately obvious.
STH: Absolutely. I aimed to maintain sympathy for all the characters while ensuring that their portrayal was filtered through Two’s perspective. This lens was crucial for portraying One, who is indeed quite obsessive. His similarities with Two emerge throughout the novel, such as his obsession with cults and his attempts to assume his boyfriend’s identity. He’s searching for the same things that his sister is, but they struggle to communicate effectively. In navigating this dynamic, I drew from personal experiences with siblings and loved ones, where we tend to see people the way we want to see them rather than who they truly are. This theme is exemplified by Two’s observations about Donald Trump and his behavior with his own brother, indicating that we should see people as they reveal themselves to us. Was it Maya Angelou who said: “When someone shows you who they are, believe them”?
DJ: It’s interesting to consider the pressure and expectation that might come with translating a highly anticipated follow-up novel. Do you ever feel that pressure as a translator, even though the work isn’t your own?
STH: Personally, I love translating precisely because I get so excited about the process. When I’m translating a writer for the first time and have the opportunity to introduce their work to English-speaking readers, it’s truly exhilarating. This excitement surpasses any pressure I might feel. Unlike writers, who are the original creators, I don’t seek attention or spotlight as a translator. My focus is on doing justice to the author’s work, especially when the author can read English and potentially review my translation. The most important thing for me is that the writer can see their language and intentions reflected accurately in my translation.
Sarah Timmer Harvey is a translator and writer based in New York. Reconstruction, a collection of stories written by the Dutch-Surinamese writer Karin Amatmoekrim and translated by Sarah, was published by Strangers Press in 2020. Sarah’s translations of Dutch-language poetry and prose have appeared in Modern Poetry in Translation, Asymptote, Gulf Coast Journal, The Los Angeles Review, and elsewhere.
Daljinder Johal is an assistant managing editor at Asymptote. She works as a producer, curator, marketer and writer in film, theatre and audio to create joyful and thoughtful work that shares nuanced perspectives from voices often underrepresented in the arts and film industry. She has a particular passion for highlighting the creativity of regions outside of London.
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