Baptism of Fire: An Interview with David Limon

We’re not just translating for an English-speaking audience, but potentially influencing how the work is understood worldwide.

In our most recent selection for Book Club, we were delighted to feature Evald Filsar’s winding, intertextual My Kingdom is Dying, which takes the long, venerable, and shifting work of storytelling as both its structure and its occupation. As its protagonist recalls a lifetime spent under the fascinations and complexities of fiction, one is taken through a crowded literary landscape where stories and realities collaborate to create the multiplying halls of memory, and philosophical preoccupations of the writer’s craft are constantly interrogating the capacities and functions of invention. In this interview, Michael Tate speaks to David Limon, the translator of this fascinating text, touching on the realities of Slovene-English translation, the particularities of Filsar, and his own illustrious literary journey.

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.   

Michael Tate (MT): I thought we’d start off today by asking for an overview of your life as a translator, starting from the beginning.

David Limon (DL): Well, at school, I did French, like almost every person in the (English) school system. Then at university, I studied English literature and philosophy, but then later, I did a master’s in linguistics, and got into teaching for a while. The first job I had was in Nigeria, which obviously has nothing to do with Slovene, but the second job I had was in Yugoslavia—which still existed—and obviously, Slovenia was one of the Yugoslav republics.

One of the main languages in Yugoslavia was then known as Serbo-Croatian, but there were also other languages, such as Macedonian and Slovene and Albanian. I ended up in the Republic of Slovenia, I met a young lady, and I loved and married her; this is really why I learned Slovene, because of my wife, and partly because her parents didn’t speak English. Her father did speak German, and he used to speak to me in German, thinking: well, English and German are fairly close, he’ll understand. I didn’t, so I thought that I’ll have to learn Slovene.

I learned it gradually. After we married, we moved to Britain, and we lived there for quite a long time, but we used to come to Slovenia once or twice a year, and over the years I gradually learned it. I used to read a lot, and obviously you listen and talk. I didn’t have really any formal teaching in the language, so it was very different from learning French at school. I basically taught myself, and when I knew it well enough, I read a bit of grammar and so on—but I kind of absorbed the language over a number of years.

MT: How did you become a translator?

DL: In 1998, I left my job in Britain, and we were wondering what to do. We wanted our daughter to be bilingual, and we thought we’d go and live in Slovenia for a year. I happened to bump into someone I knew who said: ‘Did you hear? They were opening a new university department, the department of translation.’ I wrote and asked if there’d be any work, and they said yes. So, in 1998, I started working at this brand-new department of translation and stayed. I didn’t consciously decide to be a translator, but after a few years, people started getting in touch with me and asking if I’d be willing to translate something. In the early days, it wasn’t literature, it was tech. I think the first thing I translated was something for the ethnographic museum, and I used to do quite a lot of translating for museums and galleries and cultural institutions.

The first actual novel I translated came out in 2007, and it was written by a young colleague who worked with me. It was probably the most difficult novel I’ve translated because it was full of colloquial language. There were lots of passages written in Croatian or Bosnian or Serbian, a lot of slang expressions. It was a baptism of fire, basically.

MT: And of course, you had a shelf full of very detailed dictionaries that were able to help. In your experience, how have the resources available for Slovene-English translation, like dictionaries and machine translation tools, evolved over time, and what impact has this had on the field?

DL: When I started translating, detailed Slovene-English dictionaries were scarce, and we relied on library visits. Online dictionaries and databases have since made research easier and cheaper, with young people creating helpful online resources, but the infrastructure for Slovene-English translation isn’t as robust as for languages like French or German. This also affects machine translation; tools like Google Translate rely on large bilingual text databases, which are smaller for Slovene, leading to less reliable results and sometimes untranslated Slovene words. This means that machine translation isn’t yet a threat to professional Slovene translators.

MT: So, you had the baptism of fire, and apart from it being really hard and not having huge amounts of infrastructure to support that, did you actually enjoy translating?

DL: Yes, I did. I’ve never done it as my primary job; it’s always been something I’ve done in my spare time alongside full-time employment. While I did get paid, that wasn’t my main motivation. I don’t envy those who translate for a living because it’s demanding work, especially with the tight deadlines common today. I had the luxury of being able to pace myself.

MT: In the context of publishing translated works, particularly literary fiction from a language like Slovene into English, is it common for translators to have other roles besides full-time translation?

DL: Absolutely. It’s quite restrictive with a language like Slovene, which has a relatively small number of speakers. When I started, there were only a handful of native English speakers translating from Slovene—often people who had ended up in Slovenia through marriage or other chance circumstances, rather than through formal university studies. Literary translation is rarely a full-time job in this field; most translators also teach or do related work. Also, the English text often becomes the basis for translations into other languages.

MT: Given the often-limited infrastructure and support for Slovene-English translation, and the fact that the English translation frequently serves as the basis for further translations into other languages, how has this shaped both your approach to translating and the broader community of Slovene-English translators?

DL: Translating Slovene literature into English often feels like a labour of love, as it’s rarely a full-time occupation. And because the English translation often becomes the foundation for other translations, it carries an additional responsibility. We’re not just translating for an English-speaking audience, but potentially influencing how the work is understood worldwide. This awareness shapes my approach, pushing me to create a high-quality, accurate, and nuanced English version that respects both the original work and its potential global readership.

MT: What are some of the particular challenges you face when translating Slovene literature into English?

DL: Slovene is a highly inflected language with a complex grammar and syntax that doesn’t always have direct equivalents in English. There are also cultural nuances and idiomatic expressions that require careful adaptation. Additionally, Slovene literature often includes regional dialects, historical references, and sometimes passages in other former Yugoslav languages, which complicates the translation process.

MT: How do you approach these challenges?

DL: I try to balance fidelity to the original text with readability in English. Sometimes this means finding creative ways to convey cultural references or idioms. When other languages or dialects appear in the text, I consult experts or native speakers to ensure the accuracy. It’s a process of constant negotiation between staying true to the source and producing a fluid, engaging English text.

MT: Do you collaborate closely with the authors?

DL: When possible, yes. Communication with the author can clarify ambiguous passages or cultural references. However, this isn’t always feasible, especially with older works or when the author is unavailable. In those cases, I rely on research and consultation with other experts.

MT: How has the field of Slovene-English literary translation evolved over the years?

DL: It’s grown slowly but steadily. More Slovene authors are gaining international recognition, and publishers are increasingly interested in Slovene literature. Online resources and digital communication have also made research and collaboration easier. However, the small number of translators working in this language pair remains a limiting factor.

MT: What advice would you give to someone starting out in Slovene-English translation?

DL: Immerse yourself in the language and culture as much as possible. Read widely in Slovene literature and stay updated on contemporary usage. Build a network with other translators and scholars. And be patient—it’s a niche field that requires dedication and passion.

MT: Who is Evald Flisar, and what makes him an unusual Slovene writer?

DL: He’s unusual because he spent a lot of time living and working in English-speaking countries like Britain and Australia, where he even drove a train. He worked in publishing in Britain and started out as a successful playwright—and is probably more successful internationally as a playwright than as a novelist; his plays have been performed worldwide, including in Egypt, India, Indonesia, and Japan. He sometimes wrote plays originally in English and then translated them into Slovene, showing that he’s capable of translating his own work.

MT: How does Flisar’s background influence his writing style?

DL: Flisar has a rather English sense of humor, fond of irony and sarcasm. He admires Alice in Wonderland and has written his own version inspired by it. His writing contrasts with typical Slovene literature, which tends to be Central European in style—dramatic and philosophically dense. Slovene fiction often lacks strong plot and character development; it focuses more on ideas and philosophy, having been influenced by German and Austrian literary traditions due to historical ties.

MT: How does Slovene literature generally differ from British or American literature?

DL: Slovene literature is often dense, intellectual. In contrast, British and American literature often focus more on storytelling and character. For example, a Slovene student once expressed disinterest in authors like Dickens and Austen because she felt their works lacked philosophy.

MT: What is the process of translating Evald Flisar’s books like?

DL: Typically, I receive the Slovene original from Evald Flisar and translate it without meeting him. I may contact him once or twice for clarifications. After producing a first draft, my wife, Maya, who is a native Slovene speaker, reviews the translation.

David Limon translates literature for children and adults from Slovene into English. His translations include the prize winning novels Fužinski bluz (Fužine Blues) by Andrej Skubic and Iqball hotel (Iqball Hotel) by Boris Kolar, as well as five novels by the internationally recognised author Evald Flisar, three of which have been published by Istros Books. He has also translated short stories or other works by a range of writers including Fran Levstik, Ivan Cankar, Janez Trdina, Vitomil Zupan, Mirana Likar Bajželj, Tadej Golob, Lenart Zajc, Jani Virk, Nina Kokelj, Jana Bauer, Janja Vidmar and Desa Muck.

Michael Tate is the founder of Jantar Publishing, a London-based publisher of European Fiction and Poetry. He is a graduate of the University College London School of Slavonic and East European Studies, and has also studied at Univerzita Karlova in Prague.

*****

Read more on the Asymptote blog: