Language: Quebecois French

Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

The latest from Kenya, Canada, and Oman!

In this week of literary news, our editors on the ground are bringing stories of triumph, mourning, and commemoration. In Kenya and Ghana, readers mourn the loss of pioneering feminist author Ama Ata Aidoo; in Canada, a Quebec initiative supports readers in finding more books by Indigenous writers; and in Oman, a lauded author brings home the prestigious International Prize for Arabic Fiction. Read on to find out more!

Wambua Muindi, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Kenya

The end of May seemed to position itself as a direct communication to geo-literary production history; on May 27, a bilingual anthology of East African short stories, The Heart is A Bastard, launched at the Goethe Institut Library, Nairobi. Edited by Elias Mutani and Zukiswa Wanner, the collection is a result from the Kenyan writing workshop under the auspices of the Univerity of East Anglia International Chair in Creative Writing. The inaugural chair for Africa, Zimbabwean author Tsitsi Dangaremba, expressed her delight over the launch, which includes stories in English and Swahili translations. Some of the emerging writers featured in the anthology include Gladwell Pamba—from whose story the anthology’s title is taken, Fatma Shafii, Nyasili Atwetwe of Writers Space Africa Kenya, Charlie Muhumuza, Noella Moshi, and Sia Chami. The anthology not only holds space for these writers but also represents the creative breadth of the region, while simultaneously embedding a language politics given its bilingual character.

However, this joy was dislodged by the unfortunate news of a writer’s death. On May 31, Ama Ata Aidoo, the Ghanaian author of Our Sister Killjoy (1977), a pioneering feminist novel, died at the age of 81. As such, Africa is mourning; Ghana is mourning and Kenya, too, is mourning the novelist, playwright, short story writer, and committed radical feminist, who wrote to assert the agency of African women within literary history. As reverential eulogies have been paraded across the world, the Kenyan literary community joined in the outpouring of grief in a country where her influence not only transcends her writing, but is also compounded by a teaching stint she had at the then named Kenyatta College, now Kenyatta University, as well as the literary contributions of her Kenyan-born daughter, Kinna Likimani. Where Austin Bukenya, a leading East African scholar of English and literature, for instance, dubbed her “Queen of African literature”, Mukoma wa Ngugi, the author of Nairobi Heat and son to Ngugi Wa Thiong’o, sees her as a “pillar” without which “the African literary tradition wobbles”. While Joyce Nyairo, an academic and a cultural analyst, references the short story “Something To Talk About On The Way To The Funeral” as praise of her storytelling genius, Yvonne Owuor lamented, in proper proverbial fashion: “A great, and giant tree that sheltered many beings has fallen”. Moreover, her writings, which among others, include The Dilemma of a Ghost (1965), No Sweetness Here (1969), Anowa (1970), and Changes (1991) cut across the genres to show the depth of her imaginative oeuvre and demonstrate the commitment—in different but related ways—to the African woman’s cause, through literature and in society. Rest in Power Mama. READ MORE…

Translating Le jour des corneilles: A Conversation with Alice Heathwood

But I always try to play by the rules of the source text. It’s as if I can dance, but always to the music of the author.

Asymptote’s most recent Spring Issue includes an excerpt from Alice Heathwood’s translation of Jean-François Beauchemin’s idiosyncratic and playful Le jour des corneilles (translated as The Day of Crows). The novel plays with language and voice, creating a sense of whimsy that counterbalances the darkness of the story. In this interview, Tyler Candelora talks to Alice Heathwood about translating Beauchemin, the tension between translating the reading experience one had and leaving open the possibility of other readings, and inventing words.

Tyler Candelora (TC): Can you tell me what led you to Jean-François Beauchemin’s work, and why you decided to translate this story in particular?

Alice Heathwood (AH): I came across Le jour des corneilles many years ago. I was going through a period where I was craving fiction, but just couldn’t find the right book for me. It had been ages since I’d fallen in love with a novel, and I missed that immersion in another world that you get from really good stories. I asked a friend who worked in a bookstore for a recommendation and she handed me Le jour des corneilles. It sucked me in completely from the first line. The language is so lyrical, so striking, so odd yet so inviting. Fortunately, my friend had told me nothing of the plot, which is dark, and would be difficult to handle if not wrapped in the book’s particular prose, or I may never have read it. But it is exactly that juxtaposition of light and dark that makes the book so compelling. It was my first taste of Beauchemin’s work and a strange sort of introduction, as his other works, while very poetic, do not play with language in this very idiosyncratic way. Of course, being so struck by the prose, I couldn’t help wondering how it could be translated: occupational hazard. But for years I dismissed the idea as crazy, until eventually, I just could not resist the challenge. It was as if the book wouldn’t leave me alone. 

TC: Do you typically translate from Quebecois French, or was this a new venture for you? 

AH: Being based in Paris, I normally translate from the French of mainland France. I wouldn’t necessarily take on any book from another culture, but the book’s unique style places it, in some ways, outside of its particular literary context. At the same time, I want to be careful not to brush that context entirely aside. I’m aware of the dangers inherent in translating a work from a culture in which I am not immersed. However, I think there are ways to mitigate our blind spots and approach the work with respect and a willingness to learn. In practical terms, this means reading more Quebecois literature, listening to podcasts, watching films from Quebec and talking to fellow translators and the author himself. Recently, I participated in a week-long event with other literary translators at the International College of Literary Translators in Arles, France (the ateliers ViceVersa, run by the French association for the promotion of literary translation, ATLAS and brilliantly facilitated this year by Mona de Pracontal and Ros Schwartz). We each brought along an extract of our work to workshop with the others. It was a wonderful, enriching experience. One colleague in particular, Arielle Aaronson, who lives and works in Montreal, really helped me rethink my approach. I think it’s great to collaborate with other translators. In my experience we are always willing to help each other out.  READ MORE…