Showing posts with label Emil Hakl. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emil Hakl. Show all posts

Thursday, June 14, 2018

Petra Hůlová on “women’s” and “men’s” writing

Panel on Vaculík, Mácha and Hakl
by Petra Hůlová

Originally published June 1, 2018, at iLiteratura.cz: http://www.iliteratura.cz/Clanek/39993/  


“I’ll agree to take part in discussions about ‘women’s writing’ just as soon we start talking about ‘men’s writing,’” Slovak novelist Svetlana Žuchová told me.

“They said 300 euros was the fixed fee for author appearances, and they were sorry but they couldn’t raise it. After the event, though, I found out in talking with two of the male participants that, unlike me, they got 400 euros,” German writer Tanja Dückers shared with me.

“None of the most famous translators of Czech to English—[Michael Henry] Heim, [Peter] Kussi, or Paul Wilson—has translated a single book by a Czech woman,” said US translator of Czech literature Alex Zucker, adding, “We see the same huge disparity in women writers translated by women as we do by men.”

Three days, three quotes, three conversations with people close to me about women and literature week before last. All three demonstrate that the situation is more complicated than it’s usually presented: either as a matter of chauvinism or as a problem that doesn’t really exist. With regard to these three quotes, that means:

1. This isn’t necessarily about objecting to the term “women’s writing,” but the fact that it has no conceptual parallel. Yet all kinds of questions spring to my mind on the subject of “men’s writing.” For instance: female characters in male writing who generate ideas rather than relationships or libido. I’m burning with curiosity.

2. Why it is that women get on average 25% less than men for the same work has always been a mystery to me. It really never occurred to me that lower pay might sometimes be “just” a result of the fact that women have less self-confidence and tend to accept whatever they’re offered. This became clear after Tanja Dückers publicly shared her experience of being paid a lower fee for her appearance in Berlin, and then other women authors spoke out about similar experiences. We’re familiar with the shibboleth of fixed fees in the Czech literary world, too. Here, though, it’s often a gender-equal fee of nothing, spiced up with the quip that it’s “good for your PR.”

3. It isn’t men who are to blame, but a way of thinking on the part of everyone involved — ergo Zucker’s observation that women translators, too, often translate primarily men, entirely of their own choice. Zucker, on the other hand, is aiming to focus on translating women. The interest in translating women authors in the U.S. was unleashed by author and translator Alison Anderson’s text “Where Are the Women in Translation?”, published in Words Without Borders in May 2013, leading to the Women in Translation Month initiative and a series of “books by women we’d love to see in English.” It’s great to have women authors being prioritized, especially when it comes to English translations of Czech literature, where the percentage of women comes nowhere near the percentage of works being published by women in Czech every year. Still, at its core, I don’t think this disparity is a result of the widely held view that women write worse. The problem is that women are still often seen as a group with a particular outlook, based on their shared “femininity,” whereas men are considered individuals, representing only themselves, their fictional worlds reflecting gender-neutral, universal human themes. Male authors are just people writing about the world, which logically is going to appeal to people the most.
It’s similar to when you ask someone to draw you a person. They’re probably not going to draw a woman. That would be too specific. So, what if instead of focusing on discrimination against women’s literature, we were to think about what’s typical for the category of “men’s writing”? Just as an exercise. On a panel where women would be assertive enough to push for a higher “fixed” fee, we could analyze the specifics of the masculine vision for some random trio of authors—say, [Ludvík] Vaculík, [Karel Hynek] Mácha and [Emil] Hakl. From a purely literary point of view, no emotions involved.

Translated from the Czech by Alex Zucker

Friday, June 07, 2013

Department of Literary Yields

Czech Crop for English Readers in 2013

So far it looks like The Devil's Workshop (my translation of Jáchym Topol's most recent novel, published yesterday in the UK by Portobello Books) and Lord Mord (by Miloš Urban, translated by Gerald Turner for Peter Owen Publishers) may be the only works of Czech fiction appearing in English translation this year.


Otherwise, according to the latest database of translations published by Chad Post on the Three Percent blog yesterday, there are no other books translated into English from Czech scheduled to appear this year. (Before anybody objects, I of course realize there is a Czech author on the list — Monika Zgustová — but she lives in Barcelona and wrote her novel The Silent Woman, due out in November, in Spanish.)

Major kudos to Mr. Post, by the way, for having had the foresight to start his lists. Without their existence, people like me would be less likely to do this kind of analysis, and the number of important debates and discussions they've given rise to is surely too many to count. Thank you, Chad! On the other hand, nobody's perfect, and there are a few Czech books missing from the list for 2013:
  • Grove Atlantic is slated to publish Ivan Klíma's mammoth memoir, My Crazy Century, translated by Craig Cravens, in November. (Although this is a memoir, not fiction.)
  • Twisted Spoon Press, in Prague, is supposed to bring out interwar giant Vladislav Vančura's classic novel Markéta Lazarová, in Carleton Bulkin's translation, although the originally scheduled pub date of spring (or March) 2013 has since been reported as May, then June, and it now seems to be due out in September. So we'll see.
  • Finally, Jantar Publishing, in London, is planning to bring out two works this fall: Kytice, by Karel Jaromír Erben (bilingual edition, trans. Susan Reynolds), and The History Teacher, by Tereza Brdečková, trans. Elsa Morrison and Jan Čulík.

For comparison's sake, here are the numbers of works of Czech literature translated into English in the past five years (again, data from Three Percent):
2012: 4  
2011: 2 
2010: 5 
2009: 6
2008: 5
I did some research and came up with a few more past publications:
2012: –1 + 5 + 2 
  • Harlequin's Millions, by Bohumil Hrabal, trans. Stacey Knecht, Archipelago Books, was slated for publication in April 2012 but is now listed as due out in April 2014 
  • Václav Havel: Leaving and The Memo, trans. Paul Wilson; The Increased Difficulty of Concentration, trans. Štěpán Šimek; The Vaněk Plays, trans. Jan Novák; The Pig, or Václav Havel's Hunt for a Pig, trans. Edward Einhorn; all Theater 61 Press 
  • A Bouquet of Czech Folktales, by Karel Jaromír Erben, trans. Marcela Malek Sulak, Twisted Spoon Press 
  •  On Flying Objects, by Emil Hakl, trans. Petr Kopet and Karen Reppin, Comma Press
2011:  +2 
  • Prague, I see a city . . ., by Daniela Hodrová, and The Angel-maker, by Michal Mareš, both trans. David Short, Jantar Publishing
2010: +1 
So the revised numbers would be:
2012: 10  
2011: 4 
2010: 6 
2009: 6
2008: 5
I did the best sleuthing I could, but if I've missed any books, I'll look forward to hearing about them! (P.S. I realize my labels are incomplete, but Blogger allows only a limited number of them.)