SAND on Tour

In June 2019, at the invitation of the Latvian Literature Program, our Editor in Chief traveled to Riga, Latvia, to learn more about Latvian literature and meet some of the country’s writers and publishers (as well as some fellow publishers from Germany who were also on the trip). We also got to tour our own printing house, Jelgavas Tipogrāfija, in the nearby city of Jelgava.  As a result of this visit, we later published a poem by Alexander Semyon of the Orbita collective in SAND 20. Here are some highlights:

 

SAND Visits Latvia Read More »

Our Editor in Chief Jake Schneider was invited to speak on a panel about literary magazines at the 2019 Society of Authors Translators Association Symposium, an annual event held in London the day before the book fair, alongside Clare Pollard, editor of Modern Poetry in Translation (MPT). SAND has published translations from at least sixteen languages since our founding in 2009; MPT, a venerable institution of translated literature in the English-speaking world, has been at it for more than fifty years. Still, we were positive that our two publications’ unique sets of experiences could not possibly encompass the breadth of translation’s role in literary magazines.

To get a broader view, Jake reached out to the other magazine editors in the Community of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP), of which SAND is a proud member, for their own experiences. Within hours, he received an outpouring of insights on how translations fit in to the world of literary journals, and why publishing them in that format is a great way to expose emerging translators and to build the reputations of talented authors whose work is still obscure or unknown in English.

Besides sharing some of their insights on the panel, we’ve decided to post a selection of them below, including comments from:

  • Jennifer Acker, editor-in-chief of The Common, which is devoted to “deepening our individual and collective sense of place”
  • Curtis Bauer, translation editor of The Common who also translates from Spanish himself
  • Dede Cummings, editor of the magazine The Hopper and publisher of Green Writers Press, both with a strong environmental focus
  • Ann Kjellberg, editor of the journal Little Star, but also the literary executor of Joseph Brodsky and a former contributing editor of the New York Review of Books
  • Mindy Kronenberg, editor of Oberon Poetry Magazine
  • Minna Zallman Proctor, editor of the quarterly The Literary Review (TLR), established in 1957

All of these publications eagerly accept translated submissions. The emails were sent to Jake privately and are posted here with the editors’ permission.

 

Why should a literary translator submit their work to literary journals?

Ann: Of course! Who could think otherwise? How else do you expect the awareness of an author and the eagerness to invest in and read their work, to spread beyond specialists in the language? If an author is already well-known in English, there is the necessity of making the case that you have something to offer beyond easily available existing translations.

Minna: Translators, especially emerging translators, don’t often think of submitting works in progress to journals because they are focused on book-length projects for book publishers. Changing that paradigm should really just take a nudge from journal editors – who should do a better job of opening their pages to translation, and reaching out to translators to solicit new work. And translators will certainly have an easier time proposing a book-length translation if parts of it have already appeared in literary magazines. The extra exposure provided by a magazine publication is great for an emerging translator given that the business of literary translation has such a strong word-of-mouth component to it.

Poets/poetry translators should definitely be looking at magazine publication from the start of their collaboration. Most of the poetry books that come out in the US are comprised of poems that have all already appeared in lit mags. That’s the model that’s already in place for poetry and so poetry in translation works similarly. Poetry translators should familiarize themselves with the poetry-literary magazine model so that they can use it effectively.

Curtis: It definitely helps people learn about the new voice in a new language. Take a look at Shearsman Books: their webpage more or less says that if you, as a translator, haven’t published a substantial portion of the book of poems in journals in the UK and US, they won’t even look at it. From a publisher’s perspective, individual publications indicate that there’s an interest in the work in literary circles, and that interest tends to lead to better sales.

 

Have you published excerpts of a translation project that was later published as a book?  Did the magazine publication help?

Dede: A few years ago, I received an email from a translator [Ellen Skowronski Polito] who wanted to know if I would write a letter on her behalf so she could enter for an [ASLE translation grant]. I wrote to say that we were very interested in her work translating the work of a Spanish poet, José Manuel Marrero Henríquez, and that if all went well, we would very much like to publish it. Jenna Gersie, the managing editor of our literary magazine, The Hopper, attended the ASLE convention in Detroit and the award was announced with the translator winning! We then made a firm offer to publish the actual book [Landscapes with Donkey]. The editorial process proved to be quite lengthy, but rewarding. One of our editors at Green Writers Press [Anna Mullen] has a knowledge of the Spanish language, so I signed her to work with the translator to make sure that every word rang true to the tone and meaning of the original.

Curtis: Yes, several. The reasons are obvious, as stated above, but there’s also the publicity aspect. One of the things I love about The Common (there are many) is that the journal publicizes the work that comes later: if I publish a poem there, and then a book comes out, I can tell the editors and they’re going to make that announcement in the journal and on their social media sites. The Common isn’t the only place that does this, but it’s one of the few that does it really well.

Ann: I have. […] It is hard to say how precisely this helps. A good source of evidence about this would be editors at publishing houses who publish a lot of translation. Book editors have told me on the whole that they wished they had time to read literary magazines more. We do struggle on our end with readership and distribution – on the other hand, of course, it helps the translator, when going to an editor, to be able to say that parts of this have been published in X, Y, and Z. As an editor myself, I am aware of magazines I appreciate, and I notice when they have given a writer or translator the thumbs up. I think one has to make a somewhat amorphous case that increasing the presence of an author in English is a drop-by-drop process and anything you can do to support this will help a book publisher to commit to your project and will help readers to respond to it. An unknown name in a foreign language is a hard sell, likewise a redundant translation. Literary magazines are your natural ally: they are looking for great work, and you are looking to be seen. Unlike many of their submitters, your writer is a known quantity in their original country and likely to deliver as a writer.

 

On magazines soliciting translations, and where they look for them.

Ann: When I find an author I like I try to find out if there is anything new on the way; I even try to put authors together with translators. I have reached out, for instance, to winners of the PEN and Sontag prizes for works in progress to see their manuscripts. 

Minna: Translators who have been hired by a publishing house to translate literary works are often not included in the serial rights process at all, so they have to leave publishing of excerpts to the publishing houses. The publishing houses that publish more translations are small and independent and often running on limited resources and are not good at getting early excerpts out to magazines (which have long lead times – if we wait for review copies to arrive we usually wouldn’t have time to consider and schedule an excerpt). And literary magazines often don’t have the resources to scour catalogues to look for excerpts. Literary book publishers and literary magazine publishers should work together, because translations – whose authors are often unknown abroad – need more exposure in the literary marketplace to get to readers. Translators can help in this process if they have connections to literary magazines and if the publishers are open to suggestions – even when they are not actually part of placing serial rights.

TLR tries to reach out to publishers for forthcoming work. We’ve found we have to do extra legwork on our end to get publishing houses to think of submitting to us. Again, it’s about forming relationships and keeping up with what people are working on. 

Of course the most important way to know about possible excerpts is through relationships with translators. If we hear from a translator about an interesting work in progress, we’ll approach their publisher to see if there’s something from it that might work in terms of length, and timing. We make a very deliberate effort to engage translation. To that end we have editors at TLR who are focused on soliciting and evaluating works in translation. We’ve definitely found that it’s not a genre of literature that just arrives in the slush pile; we have to reach out for it.

 

On rights to publish translations.

Minna: Most literary magazines are even more under-resourced than small presses and so most of us ask translators to only approach us with projects that they have the rights to – or projects in which they have the author’s permission already to send out for publication. If translators don’t have their permissions in order, most magazines won’t be able to publish. This is very different from how publishing translations work with a book publisher, because in all cases it is the responsibility of the book publisher to seek out and acquire translation publishing rights. Lit mags are the only publishing entity that asks translators to do that work. (Explaining this structure to a room full of seasoned translators can cause gasps of dismay and outrage.) But lit mags for the most part do not have the money or legal experience to deal with translation rights, so that’s how it is. It’s a good idea anyway for translators who are doing a translation for love (rather than under contract – where they don’t have the serial rights anyway) to know the situation with the rights so they don’t spend time on a project that’s already been promised elsewhere.

 

Do you edit translations?

Jennifer: We accept unsolicited translations, and we also commission translators to render works into English, especially for our Arabic portfolios. All pieces are thoroughly edited from an English-language point of view, and our editors work closely with the translators, and often the authors as well, to arrive at the best possible English-language version.  The collaboration can be somewhat unwieldy, given the multiple people reviewing and consulting, but we find we are still able to retain the author’s original voice and stylistic choices. 

Ann: I definitely edit. I usually feel that my suggestions are consistent with an extrapolatable underlying text, and I am counting on the translator to correct me if not; it is a back-and-forth process. In the case of a living author they often participate.

I have been grateful when translators and publishers from whom I am publishing translated work are willing to excerpt it in ways that purists might challenge (The author didn’t mean for it to end there!), in some rare cases even restructuring work. In the later case, one says, “adapted from” in an author’s note or a credit line. One would ordinarily only do this with a living author. I think that it helps to make the work available to an audience and shows the author in a beneficial light.  When translators are able to step back from what might call a dogmatic allegiance to the original, it can often create good opportunities for the work, in the right hands and under the right circumstances.

 

How do you handle edits if the original was already published in its current form, potentially in a language you can’t read?

Mindy: We recently included Korean translations and conferred with the scholar/translator when small inconsistencies were discovered within her own submissions (some of which had previously appeared in other publications). Rules for languages can vary (and dialect and time period can determine linguistic tradition). Admittedly, these were not “substantial,” but one has to try to check for accuracy so that the translation is true as possible to the original work.

Curtis: When editing translations, even when I don’t read the language – I’m thinking of an Israeli poet I published a few years ago (I don’t read Hebrew) – I listen to the English. If there’s a problem, I usually hear it when I read it out loud. In the case of the Israeli poet, I asked the translator about a few lines that I found problematic, how they were constructed in Hebrew and the choices she made in her translation. That evolved into a more focussed conversation about grammar and metaphor (the metaphor in the poem seemed odd, and I wondered if it was “odd” in the original, too; it wasn’t), and ultimately the translator resolved the “oddity” that I heard. I guess what I’m getting at here is that I read the poems and stories and consider their complexities and nuances in English first; if something catches my attention, I mark it as a point for a conversation about the text; that conversation usually leads to a conversation about translation choices and requires that we look at the source text and the translation.

 

Have you taken risks on a translated work that would be unlikely to be published as a book?

Ann: Certainly. I have often excerpted pieces that are strong on their own when I had reservations about the whole. In cases like that I think I am giving the translator a leg up! Publishing a book is a much bigger financial gamble than including a piece in a literary magazine, but seeing that some of a translation has been published before may help to give a book editor confidence, and suggest some ideas about how an editorial process might bring out the text’s strengths.

Curtis: Of course. I think that’s the only way that “unlikely to be published” piece will eventually find its way into book form; new authors and translators needs exposure. They have to start somewhere, and I’m willing to consider work that may never find its way into book form.

 

When publishing translations, do you focus on a particular language or region?

Jennifer: The Common publishes work in all genres with a strong sense of place. It has led us to include a wide variety of international works from more than 16 languages over the last 10 years. Recently, we have begun to highlight translated works in place-specific portfolios. For example, in fall 2018, we published a 100-page portfolio of works from Puerto Rico, the majority written in Spanish and translated into English, to mark one year after Hurricane Maria.  We have also developed a particular focus on translating and publishing contemporary Arabic fiction. For six years now, I have worked with prominent Jordanian writer Hisham Bustani to select, translate, edit and publish works from the Arab world. In 2016, we published TAJDEED (Renewal), entirely devoted to contemporary fiction from the Arab world, representing 26 writers from 15 countries. This momentum has continued so that we are publishing a special portfolio of works translated from Arabic every spring – in 2018, we published a portfolio from Jordan; and in 2019 we are just about to release our Syria portfolio in Issue 17.

We are currently putting together a call for submissions for Lusophone portfolio, works from and about the Lusosphere – Portuguese-speaking countries and their diaspora. We’ve found these portfolios not only allow us to publish a diverse array of writers, but help us find new readers. These issues are also very popular among teachers who use our The Common in the Classroom program.

 

Do you hold translations to a different standard than originals?

Curtis: I don’t think so. I hold both to a very high standard. 

Ann: No. I expect translations to hold up as a literary experience: they don’t get a pass because they are translations.

 

Do you have any other advice for translators submitting to magazines?

Ann: Only, please do it! It seems so valuable to me. Try to identify sections that are free-standing and give the editor a choice. Offer to provide more if they want. 

Curtis: Yes! Be open to a conversation with editors about multiple aspects of the work. I often encounter translators who are unwilling to engage in a conversation about polysemy. That’s one of the things I love most about translations, so I often ask translators to reconsider word choice and syntax.

Minna: Keep an eye out for literary magazines that publish work in translation and submit to the ones you like best. Tell the translators that TLR loves work in translation. 

Mindy: Think of it as a process of literary outreach, and discovery for readers.

 

A big thank you to Ruth Martin, who is co-chair of the Translators Association and translates from the German herself, for inviting us and for facilitating this discussion at the symposium. And thank you to all the editors for sharing their experiences and agreeing, after the fact, to us posting their illuminating comments on our website.

Why Translators Should Publish in Literary Journals (archive) Read More »

Since our founding in 2009, SAND has published work in translation from at least 18 languages. Although journals like ours eagerly await the arrival of translations in our submissions piles, many translators don’t think to submit to literary journals. This is despite journals being a great way to expose emerging translators and to build the reputations of talented authors whose work is still obscure or unknown in English.

Wanting to get other publishers’ take on the issue, translator and former SAND Editor in Chief Jake Schneider reached out to other magazine editors from the Society of Authors Translators Association Symposium and in the Community of Literary Magazines and Presses (CLMP), of which SAND is a proud member. Within hours, he received an outpouring of insights, including comments from the following editors, all of whose publications eagerly accept translated submissions.

  • Jennifer Acker, editor-in-chief of The Common, which is devoted to “deepening our individual and collective sense of place”
  • Curtis Bauer, translation editor of The Common who also translates from Spanish himself
  • Dede Cummings, editor of the magazine The Hopper and publisher of Green Writers Press, both with a strong environmental focus
  • Ann Kjellberg, editor of the journal Little Star, but also the literary executor of Joseph Brodsky and a former contributing editor of the New York Review of Books
  • Mindy Kronenberg, editor of Oberon Poetry Magazine
  • Minna Zallman Proctor, editor of the quarterly The Literary Review (TLR), established in 1957

Should a literary translator submit their work to literary journals?

Ann: Of course! Who could think otherwise? How else do you expect the awareness of an author and the eagerness to invest in and read their work, to spread beyond specialists in the language? If an author is already well-known in English, there is the necessity of making the case that you have something to offer beyond easily available existing translations.

Minna: Translators, especially emerging translators, don’t often think of submitting works in progress to journals because they are focused on book-length projects for book publishers. Changing that paradigm should really just take a nudge from journal editors – who should do a better job of opening their pages to translation, and reaching out to translators to solicit new work. And translators will certainly have an easier time proposing a book-length translation if parts of it have already appeared in literary magazines. The extra exposure provided by a magazine publication is great for an emerging translator given that the business of literary translation has such a strong word-of-mouth component to it.

Poets/poetry translators should definitely be looking at magazine publication from the start of their collaboration. Most of the poetry books that come out in the US are comprised of poems that have all already appeared in lit mags. That’s the model that’s already in place for poetry and so poetry in translation works similarly. Poetry translators should familiarize themselves with the poetry-literary magazine model so that they can use it effectively.

Curtis: It definitely helps people learn about the new voice in a new language. Take a look at Shearsman Books: their webpage more or less says that if you, as a translator, haven’t published a substantial portion of the book of poems in journals in the UK and US, they won’t even look at it. From a publisher’s perspective, individual publications indicate that there’s an interest in the work in literary circles, and that interest tends to lead to better sales.

 

Have you published excerpts of a translation project that was later published as a book?  Did the magazine publication help?

Dede: A few years ago, I received an email from a translator [Ellen Skowronski Polito] who wanted to know if I would write a letter on her behalf so she could enter for an [ASLE translation grant]. I wrote to say that we were very interested in her work translating the work of a Spanish poet, José Manuel Marrero Henríquez, and that if all went well, we would very much like to publish it. Jenna Gersie, the managing editor of our literary magazine, The Hopper, attended the ASLE convention in Detroit and the award was announced with the translator winning! We then made a firm offer to publish the actual book [Landscapes with Donkey]. The editorial process proved to be quite lengthy, but rewarding. One of our editors at Green Writers Press [Anna Mullen] has a knowledge of the Spanish language, so I signed her to work with the translator to make sure that every word rang true to the tone and meaning of the original.

Curtis: Yes, several. The reasons are obvious, as stated above, but there’s also the publicity aspect. One of the things I love about The Common (there are many) is that the journal publicizes the work that comes later: if I publish a poem there, and then a book comes out, I can tell the editors and they’re going to make that announcement in the journal and on their social media sites. The Common isn’t the only place that does this, but it’s one of the few that does it really well.

Ann: I have. […] It is hard to say how precisely this helps. A good source of evidence about this would be editors at publishing houses who publish a lot of translation. Book editors have told me on the whole that they wished they had time to read literary magazines more. We do struggle on our end with readership and distribution – on the other hand, of course, it helps the translator, when going to an editor, to be able to say that parts of this have been published in X, Y, and Z. As an editor myself, I am aware of magazines I appreciate, and I notice when they have given a writer or translator the thumbs up. I think one has to make a somewhat amorphous case that increasing the presence of an author in English is a drop-by-drop process and anything you can do to support this will help a book publisher to commit to your project and will help readers to respond to it. An unknown name in a foreign language is a hard sell, likewise a redundant translation. Literary magazines are your natural ally: they are looking for great work, and you are looking to be seen. Unlike many of their submitters, your writer is a known quantity in their original country and likely to deliver as a writer.

 

On magazines soliciting translations, and where they look for them.

Ann: When I find an author I like I try to find out if there is anything new on the way; I even try to put authors together with translators. I have reached out, for instance, to winners of the PEN and Sontag prizes for works in progress to see their manuscripts. 

Minna: Translators who have been hired by a publishing house to translate literary works are often not included in the serial rights process at all, so they have to leave publishing of excerpts to the publishing houses. The publishing houses that publish more translations are small and independent and often running on limited resources and are not good at getting early excerpts out to magazines (which have long lead times – if we wait for review copies to arrive we usually wouldn’t have time to consider and schedule an excerpt). And literary magazines often don’t have the resources to scour catalogues to look for excerpts. Literary book publishers and literary magazine publishers should work together, because translations – whose authors are often unknown abroad – need more exposure in the literary marketplace to get to readers. Translators can help in this process if they have connections to literary magazines and if the publishers are open to suggestions – even when they are not actually part of placing serial rights.

TLR tries to reach out to publishers for forthcoming work. We’ve found we have to do extra legwork on our end to get publishing houses to think of submitting to us. Again, it’s about forming relationships and keeping up with what people are working on. 

Of course the most important way to know about possible excerpts is through relationships with translators. If we hear from a translator about an interesting work in progress, we’ll approach their publisher to see if there’s something from it that might work in terms of length, and timing. We make a very deliberate effort to engage translation. To that end we have editors at TLR who are focused on soliciting and evaluating works in translation. We’ve definitely found that it’s not a genre of literature that just arrives in the slush pile; we have to reach out for it.

 

On rights to publish translations.

Minna: Most literary magazines are even more under-resourced than small presses and so most of us ask translators to only approach us with projects that they have the rights to – or projects in which they have the author’s permission already to send out for publication. If translators don’t have their permissions in order, most magazines won’t be able to publish. This is very different from how publishing translations work with a book publisher, because in all cases it is the responsibility of the book publisher to seek out and acquire translation publishing rights. Lit mags are the only publishing entity that asks translators to do that work. (Explaining this structure to a room full of seasoned translators can cause gasps of dismay and outrage.) But lit mags for the most part do not have the money or legal experience to deal with translation rights, so that’s how it is. It’s a good idea anyway for translators who are doing a translation for love (rather than under contract – where they don’t have the serial rights anyway) to know the situation with the rights so they don’t spend time on a project that’s already been promised elsewhere.

 

Do you edit translations?

Jennifer: We accept unsolicited translations, and we also commission translators to render works into English, especially for our Arabic portfolios. All pieces are thoroughly edited from an English-language point of view, and our editors work closely with the translators, and often the authors as well, to arrive at the best possible English-language version.  The collaboration can be somewhat unwieldy, given the multiple people reviewing and consulting, but we find we are still able to retain the author’s original voice and stylistic choices. 

Ann: I definitely edit. I usually feel that my suggestions are consistent with an extrapolatable underlying text, and I am counting on the translator to correct me if not; it is a back-and-forth process. In the case of a living author they often participate.

I have been grateful when translators and publishers from whom I am publishing translated work are willing to excerpt it in ways that purists might challenge (The author didn’t mean for it to end there!), in some rare cases even restructuring work. In the later case, one says, “adapted from” in an author’s note or a credit line. One would ordinarily only do this with a living author. I think that it helps to make the work available to an audience and shows the author in a beneficial light.  When translators are able to step back from what might call a dogmatic allegiance to the original, it can often create good opportunities for the work, in the right hands and under the right circumstances.

 

How do you handle edits if the original was already published in its current form, potentially in a language you can’t read?

Mindy: We recently included Korean translations and conferred with the scholar/translator when small inconsistencies were discovered within her own submissions (some of which had previously appeared in other publications). Rules for languages can vary (and dialect and time period can determine linguistic tradition). Admittedly, these were not “substantial,” but one has to try to check for accuracy so that the translation is true as possible to the original work.

Curtis: When editing translations, even when I don’t read the language – I’m thinking of an Israeli poet I published a few years ago (I don’t read Hebrew) – I listen to the English. If there’s a problem, I usually hear it when I read it out loud. In the case of the Israeli poet, I asked the translator about a few lines that I found problematic, how they were constructed in Hebrew and the choices she made in her translation. That evolved into a more focussed conversation about grammar and metaphor (the metaphor in the poem seemed odd, and I wondered if it was “odd” in the original, too; it wasn’t), and ultimately the translator resolved the “oddity” that I heard. I guess what I’m getting at here is that I read the poems and stories and consider their complexities and nuances in English first; if something catches my attention, I mark it as a point for a conversation about the text; that conversation usually leads to a conversation about translation choices and requires that we look at the source text and the translation.

 

Have you taken risks on a translated work that would be unlikely to be published as a book?

Ann: Certainly. I have often excerpted pieces that are strong on their own when I had reservations about the whole. In cases like that I think I am giving the translator a leg up! Publishing a book is a much bigger financial gamble than including a piece in a literary magazine, but seeing that some of a translation has been published before may help to give a book editor confidence, and suggest some ideas about how an editorial process might bring out the text’s strengths.

Curtis: Of course. I think that’s the only way that “unlikely to be published” piece will eventually find its way into book form; new authors and translators needs exposure. They have to start somewhere, and I’m willing to consider work that may never find its way into book form.

 

When publishing translations, do you focus on a particular language or region?

Jennifer: The Common publishes work in all genres with a strong sense of place. It has led us to include a wide variety of international works from more than 16 languages over the last 10 years. Recently, we have begun to highlight translated works in place-specific portfolios. For example, in fall 2018, we published a 100-page portfolio of works from Puerto Rico, the majority written in Spanish and translated into English, to mark one year after Hurricane Maria.  We have also developed a particular focus on translating and publishing contemporary Arabic fiction. For six years now, I have worked with prominent Jordanian writer Hisham Bustani to select, translate, edit and publish works from the Arab world. In 2016, we published TAJDEED (Renewal), entirely devoted to contemporary fiction from the Arab world, representing 26 writers from 15 countries. This momentum has continued so that we are publishing a special portfolio of works translated from Arabic every spring – in 2018, we published a portfolio from Jordan; and in 2019 we are just about to release our Syria portfolio in Issue 17.

We are currently putting together a call for submissions for Lusophone portfolio, works from and about the Lusosphere – Portuguese-speaking countries and their diaspora. We’ve found these portfolios not only allow us to publish a diverse array of writers, but help us find new readers. These issues are also very popular among teachers who use our The Common in the Classroom program.

 

Do you hold translations to a different standard than originals?

Curtis: I don’t think so. I hold both to a very high standard. 

Ann: No. I expect translations to hold up as a literary experience: they don’t get a pass because they are translations.

 

Do you have any other advice for translators submitting to magazines?

Ann: Only, please do it! It seems so valuable to me. Try to identify sections that are free-standing and give the editor a choice. Offer to provide more if they want. 

Curtis: Yes! Be open to a conversation with editors about multiple aspects of the work. I often encounter translators who are unwilling to engage in a conversation about polysemy. That’s one of the things I love most about translations, so I often ask translators to reconsider word choice and syntax.

Minna: Keep an eye out for literary magazines that publish work in translation and submit to the ones you like best. Tell the translators that TLR loves work in translation. 

Mindy: Think of it as a process of literary outreach, and discovery for readers.

 

Some of the comments above were made as part of a panel about literary magazines at the 2019 Society of Authors Translators Association Symposium. A big thank you to Ruth Martin, who is co-chair of the Translators Association and translates from the German herself, for inviting us and for facilitating this discussion at the symposium. And thank you to all the editors for sharing their experiences and agreeing, after the fact, to us posting their illuminating comments on our website. This article originally appeared on our website in 2019 and has been edited and shortened in its current form.

Why Translators Should Publish in Literary Journals Read More »

We will be sharing a stand called Indiecon Island with this fantastic lineup of independent magazines from Germany. So stop by and say hi to us and our fellow magazine makers. Jake and Ashley from SAND will be there in person on Wednesday and Thursday, but copies are available all week and we have special dispensation from the book fair to sell them.

Looking forward to meeting some of you in Frankfurt, and extremely grateful to Die Brᵫder from Hamburg for making IndieCon Island happen.

Here is a bit more about the other magazines at our stand (all of them are published in German apart from gentle rain; tau prints the original language beside German translations):

  • Brasilia tells stories by designers, for designers.
  • Graustufen is an audio magazine of design and society. Each episode of the podcast is devoted to a topic that we discuss and explore with designers and figures from the cultural and creative scene.
  • Das Wetter is a quarterly magazine of writing and music. Originally founded as a music magazine, it has grown into a platform for a wide range of artists who work with the medium of text.
  • Die Epilog is a magazine from Weimar and Berlin that theoretically examines the present moment with a focus, an attitude, and an edge.
  • Since its founding in 1993, Edit has become one of the most important journals of contemporary German-language literature, releasing three issues per year of poetry, prose, drama, new translations, and literary esays.
  • FROH! Magazine believes that good stories can change society, looks for joyful leeway in daily life, and tells stories about people who shape their surroundings.
  • gentle rain is a magazine about Hamburg. It looks at co-existence in urban space, portrays people in the city, and shows how they live and work. We also make excursions into the creative habitats, urban enclaves and nearby retreats in and around the metropolis that is our home.
  • If intellectuals express simple things in complex ways and artists do the reverse, where do publishers fit in? Korbinian Verlag, founded in 2015, seeks to redefine this profession for today by remembering Berlin’s 1920s publishing scene. Currently shortlisted for the Berlin Publishers’ Prize.
  • Missy magazine is a feminist magazine of pop culture, politics, and style for a generation of women who take their lives into their own hands.
  • Prothese magazine brings together essays and articles from various perspectives in monothematic issues: a cross-section of open-minded thought in mint condition.
  • Samlung Walter is a new fashion and interiors label. Each product is developed in three variations of equal value based a common original idea: either homemade, manufactured, or created individually by the designer and craftsperson. 
  • Slanted, founded in 2014, is a prizewinning semiannual print magazine of international design and culture.
  • tau is a new literary journal from Hamburg that selects writing and art on pre-announced themes across genre boundaries and with a strong translation focus.
  • ZurQuelle is a colorful, playful magazine of national and international reportage that sheds light on pop culture and social discourses but isn’t above making the odd dirty joke.

SAND at Frankfurt Book Fair Read More »

A Journal from Vietnam

 

In October 2017, our Editor in Chief Jake Schneider and Poetry Editor Greg Nissan flew to Vietnam to attend the second edition of A-Festival, an independent festival of international poetry and translation, in Hanoi and Saigon. Here are some extracts from Jake’s journal of that whirlwind week.

10 October 2017: Berlin to Moscow to Hanoi

At the gate in Schönefeld, the gate agent was stymied by our travel plans: “Hanoi with US passports? Tricky.” (No Russian visa, either.) We struggled to explain our printed-out visa letter with its official stamps from the Socialist Republic of Vietnam, its sprinkling of accents on every vowel, its three-page list of invited foreigners. We were the last to board the plane.

The international airspace between Berlin and Moscow is what most people in Berlin mean when they say East: the former Soviet Empire, that competing cultural and economic center of Western Eurasia holding out an unsteady truce with the “West.” The Aeroflot logo is still a winged hammer and sickle, radiating Russian colors across the fuselage. To pass the time, I started translating excerpts of an Austrian novel that will be read at a festival in China next month. I thought I should get started because my deadline is early to accommodate the Chinese censors.

On this plane the supremacy of English was contested. The opulent sky catalogue restored Russian to its rightful place. As we descended, I looked at the constellations of tower blocks and thought, 75 years’ worth of this country’s buildings date from the communist era. But then, with the expanses of Moscow in the distance, we crossed neighborhood after neighborhood of mansions, tennis courts, small palaces, and even swimming pools on our way down.

11 October: Hanoi

 

Our driver from the airport, probably annoyed at our delay collecting our visas, wove through traffic, honking quickly each time he cut someone off, as if to say, “Excuse me” or “I’m here” or “Move out of my way.”

*

In the elevator of the Impressive, we played rock-paper-scissors for our pick of the rooms. I went for paper, because of literature. Greg thought rock because of the monumental church down the street, but threw scissors instead and cut up my literature.

*

The trick to crossing the street here amongst the uninterrupted flow of cars and mopeds is to walk slowly, steadily, unwavering, suicidally – and traffic moves around you. It’s like the Matrix.

Along with only China and North Korea, Vietnam is both brands of East. The flag bears the Maoist star, but the hammer-and-sickle is nearly as common. Schoolchildren wear uniforms with red scarves knotted at the neck – just like the blue neckerchiefs of the East German Jungpioniere.

*

The pre-opening opening event of A-festival was a screening of an experimental film called A Useless Fiction by a Cantonese-speaking Macao native, Cheong Kin Man.

It started with Kaitlin Rees and Nhã Thuyên singing “Ah” and we all joined in at different pitches.

The subtitles and competing languages on screen made up a kind of motion-picture Talmud, with Chinese and Korean going down the sides, English and Vietnamese on the bottom, Portuguese interludes, the occasional centered quote, and sometimes languages like Thai and Georgian, even Schwäbisch, thrown in. It was overwhelming. 

Some of the film had been shot through a Post-It note on a cell-phone camera. Other parts were clips from documentary talking-head interviews, except the filmmaker didn’t let the talking heads (apart from one Macanese-Brazilian woman) talk. He had chosen that one woman at random from all the interviews, he told us afterwards on Skype.

Cheong, who lives in Berlin, was very confused and disoriented by the long-distance Q&A. In the end, after too many questions that were too frustrating for both sides, he asked us if we had the aircon on here and spoke about the temperature differences between Berlin and Hanoi. We were in different places and time zones, experiencing different ambient environments.

12 October: Hanoi

A long walk through the communist grandeur of the boulevards leading to the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum complex, guarded by motionless guards in white uniforms who aren’t even allowed to scratch themselves. (The more junior ones in olive drab were much less decorous: yawning, leaning, being human.) 

Uncle Ho is in Russia for his annual servicing, so his tomb was closed. Instead, we looped round in the hot sun past the Imperial Citadel, party headquarters (hammer-and-sickle flag), and the Presidential Palace to the café outside the Botanical Gardens, where I insisted we sit a while under the plastic shade cover. We took off our shoes to remember the developments of the day so far: recollecting is a barefoot task.

*

The evening, according to the packing-tape schedule on Kaitlin’s arm, went as follows: 

 

Aaaa
why a aaaa lai
what is a fest
thank you
question planes
Dinner
downstairs intro read

The question planes were questions written on paper airplanes, which we flew all around the bookstore despite the many candles burning in paper bags – which sometimes burned the bags themselves. The projector projected a constant loop of poetry on top of the readers’ faces and bodies. Questions like: Are you translatable? Do you write for your censors?

Video of the paper airplanes

At dinner, I learned that all publishing is censored here and there are heavy fines (like $1000) for making a mistake such as printing a map that leaves out disputed islands. This results in serious self-censorship by what independent publishing there is, which does not officially exist. AJAR is not officially anti-anything, but they don’t play by the rules either, so the secret police attends all their events. Once they got a big book order and noticed the delivery address was the police station. [When Thuyên and Kaitlin read this, they mentioned that about sixty of their books were once stolen/confiscated from a shop in Saigon. Kaitlin said that paper recycling collectors buy confiscated books from the police, and T & K considered trying to track them down and rescue them before they were pulped.]

Do you write for your censors?

I thought of the Chinese censor who will be reading my Austrian translation, but also a censer for wafting incense down the aisle of a church.

*

At the lengthy reading afterwards, each reader drew the next one’s bio out of a jar and read out some random keywords from it that gradually identified the person. Most readings were in English, a few in Vietnamese.

It closed with Thuyên’s adorable son Yen San reading from a Vietnamese picture book. (He and another little boy had otherwise been throwing paper planes all night and reading comics.)

Alec gave a deep explanation of Vietnamese relationship pronouns. Whenever you meet someone, you need to know their relative age (if it’s unclear) and you become older sister/younger brother, grandmother/granddaughter, uncle/nephew, etc. Apparently when speaking to an American, they even throw the English word “you” into the mix. 

Alec said he’d say “bro” or “man” in English, and I said those words were markers of heterosexual masculinity. Ways of showing distance and proximity at the same time.

13 October: Hanoi

After a mostly sleepless night, we had a day full of panel discussions at Manzi Art Space, discussions that ran into each other: first translation visibility (an all-male panel) flowing into an all-female panel on gender hosted by Ellen Van Neerven, who talked about the role of genders in her indigenous Australian community, which flowed eventually into nationality: Linh Dinh says the nation is the language, and the Singaporeans (Joshua Ip and Tse Hao Guang) say they then wouldn’t have a nation. (But they clearly do – and we Americans identified most somehow with Singapore’s sense of plurality/rootlessness.)

A whole day of panels in English (with Vietnamese infusions by the occasional non-English-speaking Vietnamese panelist) where the question of the role of English and why we were here speaking it kept returning.

14 October: Hanoi

The big day.

My alarm failed me and I awoke on my own with ten minutes to shower before our morning egg bánh mì, which we consumed at the same stand as every day: they recognized us, immediately got out stools, and asked the gestural equivalent of “The usual?”. Greg is obsessed. He ate a total of four bánh mìs today. (I had three, two of them in rapid succession.)

We arrived at today’s art space, Huong Ngo, on a road that sold silk, not knowing where the space began or ended. The rooms led into each other by way of narrow spiraling staircases and branched off in unexpected directions. The first time I searched for the bathroom, I found what seemed like a locked dungeon. Each of the other times, I had to wander around until I found it again. There was also a roof terrace connected to none of the others, not even by any of the many secret passageways.

Technical difficulties should have been expected. The cables on hand could not communicate with the projector, so the café lent us an ancient computer with a dysfunctional trackpad. I was quickly rattled, also by what felt at first like an empty room, but folks filtered in and I regained my cool. We were so ready and we had put so much thought into each slide of this silly slideshow, as we explained the categories of untranslatable texts we’d identified with recordings from Cathy Park Hong, Kurt Schwitters, etc.

But the real excitement was watching everyone spring into action, grab a poem and immediately get to work. Each group had its own approach, which they decided on almost right away. I walked around recording little interviews with my cell phone. Translations into Vietnamese, Austro-Singlish, Chinese, German (me and Greg), and Spanish.

For lunch, bún chả! Oh boy. The grilled meats here are amazing.

*

During the break, we tried and failed to correct my name from Jake to Jacob for tomorrow’s plane ticket.

*

The reading was a three-hour marathon: first a dance performance by Patrick, and then a long list of all of us. But everyone’s poetry is just so good! 

*

A wagonload of cops were clearing out the street after curfew. The bánh mì stand where we were eating with Anika (instead of Mexican food) turned out their portable light fixture, made an excuse that we were the last customers, then turned the light straight back on when the cops left.

We still hadn’t gotten on a moped taxi, so when some random guy offered us a ride, we took it. So strange cuddling up so closely on one side to a man I’d never met and, on the other side, to Greg, who was hanging onto my shoulders for dear life as I grabbed his knees, his feet sort of resting on the muffler.

Then when we arrived, the guy refused to tell us a price, just said “You first.” We gave him all the non-major bills we had and he kept complaining and would not take our money. Intense bluffing game. Greg is great at this though, and we prevailed.

15–16 October: Saigon

As feared, Jake Schneider’s ticket wasn’t valid for Jacob so we had to buy another ticket at the airport.

Saigon is modern, tall, commercial, with wide streets: whole lanes for the swarms of mopeds. I immediately missed Hanoi’s human scale, the sense that neither communism nor capitalism had quite penetrated its commercial ethic. (Which Kaitlin puts down to the city’s pride.)

*

Another reading at another art space. A painting by a famous Vietnamese artist of a warring party: one infantryman mounted on a giant turtle, others on a two-wheeled Jeep. In the bathrooms, tasteful oil paintings of couples having sex. There were special cocktails for the occasion with ingredients like kumquat and overpowering wasabi.

A day later, most of the reading merges into the general blur. I do recall my embarrassing moment afterwards, in the open mic, trying to perform Ron’s “provinz à la trance” to actual trance music. It completely cleared the room. Greg rescued me by doing his public/private poem and asking us all to perform public or private personas. I took the chance to be private, tucked my head in the back corner, hid behind the dancers.

Afterwards, Greg, Josh, Hao, Emily, and I all went out for some bánh mì. Greg ate two in a row again.

*

This morning’s panel on publishing strategies was crowded, with hardly an audience. I was so impressed by the other projects (and their sexy websites): Hao’s Zoo, Eliza’s InterSastra, and Josh’s empire.

The other panel was on the role of international English in writing. Then a workshop with Dinh Linh about street poetry and another Translation Lab with Kaitlin where we did transgressive translation strategies. A dissident poet showed up for an impromptu reading – apparently he hadn’t read in public for 15 years.

*

Greg and I each took GrabBikes from The Factory to the space where AJAR had been staying and was holding an intimate launch of their new issue, Parallel. The bike was the best experience ever and made me determined to learn how to ride despite what everyone says. The city is so loud and bright and happening and polluted, with the wind rushing in your face and eyes as you try out different ways to hold on, feel like part of the mass of these 1–2 person vehicles swarming and weaving uninterrupted by cars, condensing to a stop at intersections.

Dinner was dried shrimp/shredded green mango salad, Tiger beer, a fried sparrow, some ribs, and fried rice served in a lotus leaf.

Then back at the little launch, we all sat on the floor in a circle and passed around two copies of the AJAR issue, reading originals and translations in turns or simultaneously.

*

Soon it was time for our final hurrah, unfortunately on Saigon’s most annoying party street. Indescribably obnoxious pop music, table dancing, teenagers feeling cool. Kaitlin rolled her eyes and wished we were anywhere else. I had a heart-to-heart with her in that unlikely space about her decision to go back to New York, the ups and downs of publishing in our two cities, and other gripes, over snails in lemongrass sauce and razor clams with green beans and garlic.

One last big group hug with everyone. I felt seriously sad to say goodbye after just five days. The comedown will be intense.

 

Travel funded by the Berlin Senate Department for Culture and Europe

A Journal from Vietnam Read More »

22 November 2017

SAND Berlin Community Radio Special

On Wednesday 22 November, ahead of our Issue 16 launch at Anita Berber on the Friday, SAND took over Berlin Community Radio for two hours.

Our Events Manager Anton hosted, and a bunch of the team and past contributors presented. Past contributor Inger Wold Lund kicked off the show with a live studio reading from her series Nothing Happened. We had poems from the new issue by Elena Karina Byrne, an essay by our own Charlotte Wührer, a recap and recordings from SAND’s Translating the Untranslatable workshop at the Ă-Festival in Vietnam, music from DJ C63 AMG ahead of his set at the launch, and a good bit of chat besides.

Don’t worry if you missed it. You can listen right here:

 

Two-Hour Radio Special (SAND 16) Read More »

SAND Goes to Vietnam

by Jake Schneider, Editor in Chief

Most of the writing SAND publishes is unsolicited, and we’re often amazed at the many places in the world from which our contributors find us, joining the Berlin community in our journal’s pages. Now, for the first time, we’re excited to travel in the other direction and meet some of our farthest contributors in person on their home turf.

My trip with SAND Poetry Editor Greg Nissan to Ă-Festival 2017 in Hanoi and Saigon came out of one of these artistic relationships, as I’ll explain. The festival is bringing together more like-minded independent journals and presses with poets, translators, organizers, and publishers from across Asia and the wider world. We’ll be taking part in five days of readings, discussions, book fairs, and workshops in both cities.

Our original connection to the festival was the poem “a parade” by Nhã Thuyên, translated by Kaitlin Rees, which appeared last year in Issue 14. You can read it here.

The poem’s author and translator are part of a tightknit independent literary scene in the Vietnamese capital, and they co-run a publishing house, AJAR Press, which prints a bilingual Vietnamese-English magazine as well as poetry collections in both languages. AJAR Press is also one of the hosts of Ă-Festival, and we were delighted when they invited us to participate in the second edition.

We first thought of flying to Hanoi when we saw a video from last year’s inaugural edition of Ă-Festival and realized that two of our other past contributors, Tammy Ho Lai-Ming from Hong Kong and B.B.P. Hosmillo from the Philippines, were also there. That made a total of four contributors attending the same poetry festival more than eight thousand kilometers away, and it also made the world smaller than we thought.

Besides admiring Nhã Thuyên’s richly textured and cyclical poem, we were struck by Kaitlin Rees’s approach to translating its trickiest elements. The biggest challenge there was the Vietnamese language’s intricate system of personal pronouns, which are poorly matched by the neutrality of English’s I, you, or we. When we asked Kaitlin to compile a glossary of these pronouns to accompany her translation, the glossary (“notes on a parade”) became a poem of its own.

Kaitlin’s encounter with the uncanny specificities of language reminded me of an event I organized in 2015 called “Untranslatable.” Back then, I asked nine Berlin-based literary translators for texts that they considered in some way “untranslatable,” and they sent in everything from Oulipo experiments to Flemish sound poetry to punning riddles by Walter Benjamin. Then the translators swapped texts and had a month to wrestle with them before performing the “impossible” translations at our event, which took place, appropriately enough, on a Friday the 13th.

At Ă-Festival 2017, in addition to participating in a reading and a panel, Greg and I will be holding a follow-up “Translating the Untranslatable” workshop, this time featuring even more languages we don’t personally speak. In small groups, the participating poets and translators will attempt in two hours what the last group accomplished in a month – to take supposedly untranslatable texts apart and put them back together in a new home: Vietnam.

These unexpected chances to build community across continents are part of what excites us about running a truly international journal.

Travel funded by the Berlin Senate Department for Culture and Europe.

Vietnam: Translation Read More »