Grace Larkin
English PEN
London, England
Some of the most fascinating work I’ve done at PEN has been with the translation program. I’ve been working on the PEN Translates grant with Theodora Danek, who runs the Writers in Translation program at English PEN. As part of this program, PEN gives grants to help publishers meet the costs of translating new works into English.
At the beginning of my internship, I had a wonderful conversation with her about how she sees translation as an art form in itself. Since then, I’ve been interested in the function of translated literature in human rights work. I’ve also attended a few translation events that English PEN has hosted. One had several translators reading from works from East and Southeast Asia, and one was a panel discussion between a Turkish poet and two translators about writing in the language of one’s home.
I started to think a lot about translation after studying education in our fellowship class with Professor Ruben Carranza. When we studied the right to education, we discussed it as a social good—a way to give a person dignity by allowing them to learn about the world around them. I had heard similar ideas in conversations about literary diversity and translation.
Literature, the internet, translated works—they all allow people to engage with important ideas. Writing can convey diverse experiences and educate people about lives that are (geographically and culturally) far from their own. Censorship often prevents this kind of education. In this way, I think translation can be thought of as social good worth protecting through a human rights framework. Maybe this comes from my inherent belief that literature possesses the ability to foster hope, imagination, growth and empathy.
I’ve also come to believe that translation can be used as a tool of activism and dissent. There are several examples of how PEN uses translation as an act of resistance. One is the recently published book, The Accusation: Forbidden Stories from Inside North Korea, by a North Korean dissident writer under the pseudonym, Bandi. In 1989, he began secretly writing a series of stories about life under Kim Il-sung’s totalitarian regime. A relative helped smuggle the then 750-page manuscript out of North Korea, and with help from the PEN Translates grant, the book was published in English in 2017. The collection and translation of these stories is meaningful work.
PEN Translates grants have been awarded to some of the largest publishers in the industry as well as very small independent presses that focus on literature from specific regions. Theodora pointed out that there is a real lack of funding for translation work, even with big publishers like Penguin Random House. Only about 3% of all books published in the United States are works in translation. That figure includes all books, so in terms of literary fiction and poetry, it’s closer to 0.7%. Most publishers don’t put much money into translation unless it is for international bestsellers like Murakami, Knausgaard, or Ferrante.
This is not only a barrier for writers around the world who wish to reach a larger audience, but it’s also a massive setback for English speakers who are missing out on some of the most interesting and important voices in contemporary literature.
How are we to connect the distance between ourselves and “the other” without translated literature? How are we to understand the reality of life inside North Korea without stories smuggled out and translated for the rest of the world? How are we to encourage empathy for marginalized groups of people, like immigrants, without reading accounts of life in their own words?
At PEN, translation is celebrated as a collaborative act that can connect and educate writers and readers around the world. From working with so many impressive writers and translators, I’ve been increasingly interested in translation as a tool for human rights work.
Read translated literature!