日付変更線 International Date Line

新刊!伊藤比呂美『河原荒草』の英訳

This month, Action Books is publishing my second book of translations of ITŌ Hiromi 伊藤比呂美, one of Japan’s most theoretically provocative and endlessly innovative poets. One of the first attempts in contemporary Japan to write a book-length narrative poem, Wild Grass on the Riverbank is a long, wild, interlingual exploration of migrancy, alienation, borders, language, abuse, determination, and what it means to live in between two far-apart countries. It is wild, overflowing, full of excess, and unlike anything I had ever read before. Once I read it, I simply could not get it out of my head.  

The book is not yet on Amazon or the SPD website, but we hope that it should be come October.  I hope that this book excites some of you, my friends, as much as it did me!

Click here to read critic TOCHIGI Nobuaki’s comments on Wild Grass on the Riverbank.
Click here for Killing KanokoItō’s first book of translations into English.

Translation and Non-PC Sexuality

Just the other day, The New Yorker had a fascinating little article called “Translating a Novel of Sadism,” which is rich with implications about translating literature with explicitly sexual content, and in particular, sexually explicit content that would not be considered PC to discuss. In the article, the translator, who chose to write under the pseudonym D.E. Brooke, talks about the decision to translate Robbe-Grillet’s A Sentimental Novel, a lushly overwrought description of one person’s sadistic feelings and activities.  In an e-mail interview, Brooke rightly criticizes society’s inability to talk about non-PC feelings, such as sadism and masochism.  

While there is primal revulsion at the rape of innocence and the various other crimes detailed in this story, conflating act and fantasy in assessing a work of this kind seems to me to reflect a generally upheld social lie that requires the weirder and more disquieting manifestations of the human psyche to be swept under the public rug. The book’s lack of hypocrisy is in direct proportion to the rarity of similar avowals, especially in established spheres of social privilege and influence. The resulting schism of minds burdened with shameful, unspoken secrets appears to me to do more damage than what can be laid at the doorstep of this novel, which by its very existence forces us to ponder our relationship to criminal thoughts and fantasies: whether we must not think bad thoughts, not share them, not be exposed to them; whether we must condemn them in ourselves and others; and whether they can even be curtailed or eliminated by these actions. Rather than disown his darkest psyche, Robbe-Grillet erects a shrine to it.

Translation has, as often as not, historically been a site of repression—one place where sexually explicit material was bowdlerized, excised, shortened, smoothed over, or reframed in more socially “acceptable” language—even though as the translator in this article argues, such thoughts are frequently part of the very fabric of the human psyche.  I certainly feel that the position that this translator has taken is important, allowing an open and honest encounter with a non-PC form of sexuality. The result is that Brooke has revealed an important side of the work of Robbe-Grillet for anglophone audiences, and, I hope, in the encouraged more dialogue about forms of desire that society tends to shun. If anything, the inclination to combine sexuality and power play (submitting to power as well as wielding to power) are far, far more common than society would have us believe. 

What should one make about the translator’s decision to keep his/her name off the book?  On one level, I can sympathize with the decision to remain anonymous for fear of being shut out of certain communities where it is difficult to have open discussions about sexuality, much forms of sexuality that would be considered problematic or taboo.  

In fact, I can relate to this story in my own way.  When I was in graduate school, the former publisher of Gay Sunshine Press asked me to translate some comics by the Japanese author Tagame Gengoroh 田亀源五郎, who draws manga of hirsute, muscle-bound men who engage in all sorts of homoerotic sadomasochistic pleasures—often of the most extreme sorts.  In almost every single one of his comics, one character rapes, ravages, and sometimes even mutilates another, but despite the protests of the victim, readers can tell from the erections on every page that the one receiving the abuse at some level likes what is happening.  

On one hand, I was happy to have the money to do the translations.  Plus, as a budding scholar of queer studies, I found myself fascinated by Tagame’s comics, which dared explore a part of the psyche that (to borrow Brooke’s phrase) is often swept under the rug. On the other hand, I was worried about associating my name with the translation, especially since I hoped one day to get a job in academia, and there was no guarantee that an association with such non-PC work would not be a liability.  I could imagine potential employers doing a Google search, finding the comics, then dismissing me altogether, feeling that I was not a serious scholar or that I was too involved with marginal, even “unseemly” things.  

In the end, I decided to do the translations but used a pseudonym.  I was spared any complication, however, by the fact that Gay Sunshine Press went out of business and my translation was never published.   Interestingly, more than fifteen years later, a collection of translations of Tagame’s stories was published under the title The Passion of Gengoroh Tagame. Currently, the Bruno Gmunder Group is publishing a number of other, new translations of Tagame’s work.  So far all of the translations have very positive reviews on Amazon, and this give me hope that society is growing increasingly able to talk about non-heteronormative forms of desire and fantasy with less opprobrium.   

Now that I have what appears to be a secure position in a university teaching Japanese literature and translation, I probably would not be so concerned about using my real name, but even though my translations never went anywhere, I have reflected many times about my own decision in the late 1990s to use a pseudonym.  I can see more clearly about how the translator is caught between conflicting ideological and economic currents. I see that the use of a pseudonym, even when one is doing good work on interjecting sexuality into the realm of discussion, is complicit with the historical problem of the invisibility and erasure of the translator.  More importantly, the translator’s decision to leave one’s name off a book could be seen as complicit with, or perhaps even contributing to exactly the same problem that Brooke criticizes so forcefully in this article—the inability to speak openly about sexuality in all of its forms.  

On the other hand, it is not difficult to understand the reasons one might use a pseudonym, especially considering that translators are often financially and socially vulnerable—underpaid, under-appreciated, and working at a task that is as likely to invite criticism as praise. One can easily imagine how associations with controversial material could potentially harm one’s career.    

So what is a translator to do?  The answer is not at all clear, but I hope that with more open discussions about the difference between reality and fantasy, about literature and society, about translation, writing, and erasure, we can open up a space within society where it is easier to talk about sexuality, desire, language, and power, in their many, multivalent, intertwining forms.

The American Literary Translators Assocation has just announced its list of candidates for the 2014 National Translation Award.  Among the wonderful things on here is John Nathan’s new translation of a work that represents a milestone in the history of the modern Japanese novel: Natsume Sōseki’s Light and Dark 夏目漱石『明暗』. Here’s the full list.  I cannot wait to find out who wins the big prize!

Poems of Consummation by Vicente Aleixandre
Translated from the Spanish by Stephen Kessler
(Black Widow Press)

Cavafy: Complete Plus by C.P. Cavafy
Translated from the Greek by George Economou
(Shearsman Books)

The Dark by Sergio Chejfec
Translated from the Spanish by Heather Cleary
(Open Letter Books)

Theme of Farewell and After-Poems by Milo de Angelis
Translated from the Italian
by Susan Stewart & Patrizio Ceccagnoli
(The University of Chicago Press)

Life’s Good, Brother by Nazim Hikmet
Translated from the Turkish by Mutlu Konuk Blasing
(Persea Books, Inc.)

Distant Lands: An Anthology of Poets who Don’t Exist by Agnieszka Kuciak
Translated from the Polish by Karen Kovacik
(White Pine Press)

A Treatise on Shelling Beans by Wiesław Myśliwski
Translated from the Polish by Bill Johnston
(Archipelago Books)

Between Friends by Amos Oz
Translated from the Hebrew by Sondra Silverston
(Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)

The Girl with the Golden Parasol by Uday Prakash
Translated from the Hindi by Jason Gruenbaum
(Yale Univeristy Press)

The African Shore by Rodrigo Rey Rosa
Translated from the Spanish by Jeffrey Gray
(Yale University Press)

Four Elemental Bodies by Claude Royet-Journoud
Translated from the French by Keith Waldrop
(Burning Deck)

Light and Dark: A Novel by Natsume Soseki
Translated from the Japanese by John Nathan
(Columbia University Press)

Crossings by Habib Tengour
Translated from the French by Marilyn Hacker
(The Post-Apollo Press)

An Invitation For Me to Think by Alexander Vvedensky
Translated from the Russian by Eugene Ostashevsky & Matvei Yankelevich
(New York Review Books)

A Schoolboy’s Diary by Robert Walser
Translated from the German by Damion Searls
(New York Review Books)

The New Museum in NYC is hosting a beautifully creative exhibition about translation, art, and the elusive destinies of meaning.  The following description of the exhibition comes from the New Museum’s webpage.   

The Temporary Center for Translation is a site for pedagogical exchange founded on the importance of translation as a mode for thinking, making, and doing.

Every translation sets into play distinct vocabularies and systems of meaning—linguistic and otherwise—and it is in these encounters that priorities and positions are negotiated. While fidelity to an original work or idea is paramount in some theories of translation, the Center questions what exactly constitutes a likeness. It also complicates the idea that a translator should aim to retain what is foreign about a work, which in turn helps articulate the distinctions between contexts that are national, political, cultural, or otherwise. Inevitable incongruities are important to the Center’s activities: They provide the opportunity for devoted—though, in some cases, not so faithful—rewrites. A work may be radically reoriented from its original readership and stakes through translation, thereby asking the original and the translation to account for each other in new ways. At its base, the Center is dedicated to opening up the process of translation, making visible conversations that are a routine—but often hidden—part of the translation process.

A modest experiment rather than an enduring infrastructure, the Center’s commitment during its short-term existence is to the facilitation and distribution of translations of select texts on visual culture. An essay by Lebanese artist and writer Jalal Toufic will be translated from English into Arabic and French, and an essay by contemporary Moroccan philosopher Abdessalam Benabdelali will be translated twice from Arabic into English. The first iteration will be a “standard” translation and the second, a more radical linguistic transformation drawing on experimental processing techniques by a writer-translator with no Arabic language skills. Acting as a temporary catalyst for collaborative translation, the Center will also facilitate collective translations of contemporary art texts selected by international partner organizations, using the online multilingual platform TLHUB.

Also displayed within the Center are materials from other writers, editors, translators, and artists, including Omar Berrada and Érik Bullot, Joshua Craze, Mariam Ghani, and the editors of and contributors to Dictionary of Untranslatables. These projects stage constant interplays between written, visual, and verbal expression, and exemplify a wide range of local vernaculars and specialized discourses, from official military grammar to the philosophy of language, theories of translation, associated political agendas, and the aestheticization of translation modalities. In addition, the Center houses a small, specialized resource collection intended for public use.

The Temporary Center for Translation is an initiative of the Education Department and Dar al-Ma’mûn, conceived to be in dialogue with “Here and Elsewhere” and other current Museum programs. The Center looks specifically at the translator’s role—with the complexity of her or his individual and institutional networks, impetuses, and desires—as integral to creating social, cultural, or political meaning in history.

The Temporary Center for Translation is organized by Omar Berrada, Codirector of Dar al-Ma’mûn, Marrakesh, Taraneh Fazeli, Education Associate, and Alicia Ritson, Research Fellow, with Chaeeun Lee, Education Intern. The Center’s institutional partner is Dar al-Ma’mûn. Special thanks to TLHUB and Princeton University Press.

与謝蕪村句集の英訳は2014年の日米友好基金の翻訳賞を受賞
I was pleased to find out that W.S. Merwin and Takako Lento’s translation of the Collected Poems of Yosa Buson has just won the 2014 U.S.-Japan Friendship Commission Prize for the Translation of Japanese Literature, which is distributed by the Donald Keene Center at Columbia University. 
Click here for more information about the prize. Click here for a link to the book on Amazon.  A few months ago, I wrote this review about the book on Amazon.

Yosa Buson (与謝蕪村) is one of the most important haiku poets to have ever lived. Born about a generation after the death of Matsuo Bashō, Buson helped to push haikai in important, new directions, and shape haiku (the first verse of a haikai sequence) into an individual, independent art form.It is no surprise that many collections of Japanese traditional verse in English, such as Robert Hass’ collection of “essential haiku,” contain some of Buson’s poems. Most of those collections, however, only contain of a tiny number of poems, which are presented with minimal commentary and little to no context. Because the offerings in English are currently so poor, Anglophone readers have not yet really had the opportunity to figure out what is actually Buson-like about Buson, and how this giant’s voice differs from those of other haiku greats, such as Bashō, Issa, and Shiki.Those of us who love Japanese poetry owe a great debt of gratitude to Takako Lento and W.S. Merwin for giving us the first thorough retrospective of Buson’s work in English. This book presents renditions of 868 haiku, plus a small scattering of longer poems—the best look at Buson yet in this English. All of the poems are presented in Romanized Japanese as well.Donald Keene once wrote about Buson’s poetry that it was “so exclusively concerned with his private feelings, tastes, and perceptions that it strikes us as being modern; there is no barrier of time between him and us” (Seeds in the Heart, 1976, p. 343). Indeed, some of the poems do feel strikingly imagistic, such as haiku 211, “nanohana ya / kujira mo yorazu / umi kurenu,” rendered as Lento and Merwin as “A field of mustard flowers / no whales passed today / night falls on the sea.”At moments, Buson even gives us glimpses of surrealism avant la lettre, such as with haiku 360: “dedemushi ya / sono tsuno moji no / nijiri gaki” or “With his horns / a snail slowly scrawls / a hesitant letter.” At the same time, Lento and Merwin give us a look at Buson’s other side as well, the one that loves to draw upon Chinese influences and earlier Heian-period literature. The picture that emerges is one of an erudite, intensely focused poet with a distinctive voice.Personally, I was surprised that this otherwise excellent book provides so little commentary. The translator’s introduction includes a short, one-page summary of Buson’s position in Japanese poetry, but obviously, there is much more that could be said about such an important poet. I suspect that Lento and Merwin felt they did not need to reinvent the wheel; after all, the Japanese literature scholar Makoto Ueda has written about Buson’s life and work in the long out-of-print book The Path of Flowering Thorn. Still, it would have been useful, especially for those of us teaching Japanese literature at universities, to have had some basic information about Buson in the same volume as the translations themselves.All in all, these are the best Buson translations currently available, hands down. Lento and Merwin deserve much praise for bringing them to us. I hope that they will collaborate again in the future and will continue enriching our bookshelves with their collaborations.

与謝蕪村句集の英訳は2014年の日米友好基金の翻訳賞を受賞

I was pleased to find out that W.S. Merwin and Takako Lento’s translation of the Collected Poems of Yosa Buson has just won the 2014 U.S.-Japan Friendship Commission Prize for the Translation of Japanese Literature, which is distributed by the Donald Keene Center at Columbia University. 

Click here for more information about the prize. 
Click here for a link to the book on Amazon.  

A few months ago, I wrote this review about the book on Amazon.

Yosa Buson (与謝蕪村) is one of the most important haiku poets to have ever lived. Born about a generation after the death of Matsuo Bashō, Buson helped to push haikai in important, new directions, and shape haiku (the first verse of a haikai sequence) into an individual, independent art form.

It is no surprise that many collections of Japanese traditional verse in English, such as Robert Hass’ collection of “essential haiku,” contain some of Buson’s poems. Most of those collections, however, only contain of a tiny number of poems, which are presented with minimal commentary and little to no context. Because the offerings in English are currently so poor, Anglophone readers have not yet really had the opportunity to figure out what is actually Buson-like about Buson, and how this giant’s voice differs from those of other haiku greats, such as Bashō, Issa, and Shiki.

Those of us who love Japanese poetry owe a great debt of gratitude to Takako Lento and W.S. Merwin for giving us the first thorough retrospective of Buson’s work in English. This book presents renditions of 868 haiku, plus a small scattering of longer poems—the best look at Buson yet in this English. All of the poems are presented in Romanized Japanese as well.

Donald Keene once wrote about Buson’s poetry that it was “so exclusively concerned with his private feelings, tastes, and perceptions that it strikes us as being modern; there is no barrier of time between him and us” (Seeds in the Heart, 1976, p. 343). Indeed, some of the poems do feel strikingly imagistic, such as haiku 211, “nanohana ya / kujira mo yorazu / umi kurenu,” rendered as Lento and Merwin as “A field of mustard flowers / no whales passed today / night falls on the sea.”

At moments, Buson even gives us glimpses of surrealism avant la lettre, such as with haiku 360: “dedemushi ya / sono tsuno moji no / nijiri gaki” or “With his horns / a snail slowly scrawls / a hesitant letter.” At the same time, Lento and Merwin give us a look at Buson’s other side as well, the one that loves to draw upon Chinese influences and earlier Heian-period literature. The picture that emerges is one of an erudite, intensely focused poet with a distinctive voice.

Personally, I was surprised that this otherwise excellent book provides so little commentary. The translator’s introduction includes a short, one-page summary of Buson’s position in Japanese poetry, but obviously, there is much more that could be said about such an important poet. I suspect that Lento and Merwin felt they did not need to reinvent the wheel; after all, the Japanese literature scholar Makoto Ueda has written about Buson’s life and work in the long out-of-print book The Path of Flowering Thorn. Still, it would have been useful, especially for those of us teaching Japanese literature at universities, to have had some basic information about Buson in the same volume as the translations themselves.

All in all, these are the best Buson translations currently available, hands down. Lento and Merwin deserve much praise for bringing them to us. I hope that they will collaborate again in the future and will continue enriching our bookshelves with their collaborations.

Human institutions are built on terms that are more like the word “happiness” than they are like the word “apple.” Acknowledging that the concepts on which we build these institutions, our expectations, and our forms of life are tied to the languages in which they take shape and are expressed does not mean abandoning the task of making these institutions better, more equitable, more precise, and it doesn’t mean granting privilege to one experience or one identity or one tradition over others. It means agreeing that the project of building these defective institutions is an endless and often a violent one, beset by injustices that need to be expressed and imagined in words we will have to translate again and again, for ourselves and for others.
Jacques Lezra, “How to Translate an Untranslatable Book,” The Washington Post, 16 Jul 2014.

中原中也詩英訳パネルディスカッション
伊藤比呂美、ジェフリー・アングルス、アーサー・ビナード、四元康祐
Panel discussion about translating Nakahara Chūya into English
Sponsored by the Nakahara Chūya Memorial Museum, Yamaguchi City

A group of bilingual poets—Hiromi Itō, Jeffrey Angles, Arthur Binard, and Yasuhiro Yotsumoto—is coming together in Yamaguchi City to do a panel discussion on July 13, 2014 about our ongoing project to translate into English the modernist poet, Nakahara Chūya, a figure often considered one of the fathers of Japanese modernist poetry. (Chūya was heavily influenced by symbolism and Dada, and he was one of the most important Japanese translators of Rimbaud.) This event will be hosted by the always wonderful Nakahara Chūya Memorial Museum.

「ゆあーん ゆよーん ゆやゆよん」は英語でどう言うの?日米両国で活動を続けている詩人・伊藤比呂美をコーディネーターとして、日本語と英語双方に深い造詣をもつ詩人・翻訳家のアーサー・ビナード、ジェフリー・アングルス、四元康祐をパネリストに迎え、英訳することで初めて見えてくる中也の詩の特徴、日本語と英語の詩的表現の違いなどを、熱く語り合います。

日時:7月13日(日) 14:00~16:00(開場:13:30~)
会場:ホテル松政 2階 芙蓉の間
(山口市湯田温泉3丁目5-8 TEL.083-922-2000)

参加料:無料・事前申込み不要

お問合せ:中原中也記念館
TEL 083-932-6430 FAX 083-932-6431
http://www.chuyakan.jp/04news/20th09.html

アメリカの一番よく読まれている絵本作家、ドクター・スースの和訳を取り上げる拙論は『Japan Forum』の新しい特集「Geographies of Childhood」(幼児期の地理学)に載りました。アメリカでも広く知られていないが、第二次世界大戦中、スースは戦時中の日本を風刺する漫画を描いたり、アメリカ陸軍の映画班に所属して日本文化と軍隊主義の問題を取り上げるドクメンタリー映画を作ったりしました。戦後になって、スースは『ライフ雑誌』のために取材しに訪日して、関西で知り合った友人からインスピレーションを受けて、アメリカ児童文学の古典になる『ぞうのホートンひとだすけ』を書きました。その歴史から始まり、本論はスースの和訳史、そして絵本に隠る教訓の翻訳による変容を論じています。特に、占領下の日本で活躍した翻訳家・大森武男と、1970年頃に「児童文学の翻訳の王様」と言われた渡辺茂男と、2000年頃にスースの和訳を出したフェミニストの詩人・伊藤比呂美の貢献を重視しています。論文は英語で書いたが、興味のある方に喜んで送ります。

The new special issue of Japan Forum (Vol. 26, No. 2)is entitled Geographies of Childhood and contains several fascinating articles about the ways that globalization, translation, and localization have shaped children’s culture in postwar and contemporary Japan.  Among them is my article “Dr. Seuss Goes to Japan: Ideology and the Translation of an American Icon,” which looks at the history of Dr. Seuss translations into Japanese. It begins by looking at Dr. Seuss’s own long, intimate, personal engagement with Japan, beginning with his World War II political cartoons satirizing Japan, his contributions to Frank Capra’s wartime and Occupation-era documentaries about rebuilding Japanese culture, his fact-finding visit for Life magazine in 1953, and the ways that inspired Seuss’s own writing. It then moves on to see how Japanese translators have dealt with the messages embedded in Seuss’s work (especially the messages related to Japan) and the changing ways that they have used Seuss in their own political and social agendas over time. In particular, it focuses on the Japanese-language translations of the Occupation-era translator Ōmori Takeo, the prolific translator of children’s books during the 1970s Watanabe Shigeo, and the contemporary feminist poet Itō Hiromi.   

The article is free to download for the first fifty people who click here.  If you would like to read it but are unable to download it from the link above, please e-mail me, and I will be happy to send a copy.

Amanda Vail at Rain Taxi, one of the journals that I often turn to for literary reviews, wrote a glowing review of my translation of the gay Japanese poet TAKAHASHI Mutsuo’s memoirs, Twelve Views from the Distance.  In it, she writes,

Takahashi’s memoir presents not only the difficulties faced by citizens living through a war, but also the challenges of growing up in poverty, of being raised by a single mother who is forced to make ends meet in creative ways, and of exploring an alternative sexuality, among others. The novel presents twelve reflections on the time and place it depicts; some of the details are very specific, and many are universal. Throughout, Twelve Views from the Distance is unflinching, compassionate, and beautiful.

Click here to see the Amazon page for Twelve Views.
Thank you, Amanda, for the wonderful review.

Julio Cortázar “Los Dioses,” “The Gods,” translated by Stephen Kessler

伊藤比呂美xジェフリー・アングルスの朗読会スタンフォード大学(米国カリフォルニア州)2014年5月2日(金)
During this reading at Stanford University on May 2, 2014, Itō Hiromi will appear with me as her translator. We plan to read from her work about the 2011 disasters in Japan, as well as from the translation of her long, narrative poem Wild Grass on the Riverbank, which will be forthcoming from Action Books in fall 2014.  This award-winning, book-length narrative poem, called by critics “unprecedented” in the history of modern Japanese literature, deals with transpacific migration, linguistic isolation, and the question of what it means to belong to a place.

伊藤比呂美xジェフリー・アングルスの朗読会
スタンフォード大学(米国カリフォルニア州)
2014年5月2日(金)

During this reading at Stanford University on May 2, 2014, Itō Hiromi will appear with me as her translator. We plan to read from her work about the 2011 disasters in Japan, as well as from the translation of her long, narrative poem Wild Grass on the Riverbank, which will be forthcoming from Action Books in fall 2014.  This award-winning, book-length narrative poem, called by critics “unprecedented” in the history of modern Japanese literature, deals with transpacific migration, linguistic isolation, and the question of what it means to belong to a place.

Kyoko Selden Memorial Translation Prize

Kyoko Selden Memorial Translation Prize in Japanese Literature, Thought, and Society

The Department of Asian Studies at Cornell University is pleased to announce a prize honoring the life and work of Kyoko Selden. The prize will pay homage to the finest achievements in Japanese literature, thought, and society through the medium of translation. Kyoko Selden’s translations and writings ranged widely across such realms as Japanese women writers, the atomic bomb experience, Ainu life and culture, historical and contemporary literature, poetry and prose, Japanese art, and early education (the Suzuki method). In the same spirit, the prize will recognize the breadth of Japanese writings, classical and contemporary. Collaborative translations are welcomed. In order to encourage classroom use and wide dissemination of the winning entries, prize-winning translations, together with the original Japanese text, will be made freely available on the web. The winning translations will be published online at The Asia-Pacific Journal: Japan Focus <http://www.japanfocus.org/>. 

Submit three copies of a translation and the original text of an unpublished work or a new translation of a previously published work to the Kyoko Selden Memorial Translation Prize, Department of Asian Studies, 350 Rockefeller Hall, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY 14853. E-mail submissions should be sent to seldenprize@cornell.edu.  Please provide both paper and electronic versions of the translation and the original text. The maximum length of a submission is 20,000 words. The translation should be accompanied by an introduction of up to 1,000 words. In case of translation of longer works, a 20,000-word excerpt should be submitted.

The closing date for the first prize competition is May 30, 2014. Awards will be announced on August 31, 2014. A prize of $2,500 will be given to the author(s) of the award-winning translation. For further information, please visit <http://lrc.cornell.edu/asian/seldenmemorial>.

Call for Submissions: Seeking re-translations of poetry and prose
Inventory No. 5 
The Re-Translation Issue

In celebration of its fifth anniversary, the Editors of Inventory are assembling a special issue devoted exclusively to original re-translations. That is, they are seeking fresh and thoughtful translations of literary texts that have already been translated into English. Compelling reasons for re-translation might include a problematic first translation or an exceptionally rich text affording a multiplicity of possible translations. Re-translations from less-taught and non-European languages are especially encouraged, as are re-translations of works little known in the Anglophone world. 

Based in Princeton University’s Department of Comparative Literature, Inventory is a journal of literary translation supported by the Interdoctoral Program for the Humanities, the Lewis Center for the Arts, and the Program for Translation and Intercultural Communication at Princeton.  Submit to invent@princeton.edu by June 1, 2014 to be considered.

Difficulties of translating children&#8217;s literature
In this funny and well-written special feature in the Guardian, translator Sarah Ardizzone talks about translating Marjolaine Leray&#8217;s April the Red Goldfish into French: Avril le poisson rouge.  Handling a transgender, suicidal fish in another language is not always easy!  

Difficulties of translating children’s literature

In this funny and well-written special feature in the Guardiantranslator Sarah Ardizzone talks about translating Marjolaine Leray’s April the Red Goldfish into French: Avril le poisson rouge.  Handling a transgender, suicidal fish in another language is not always easy!  

In this film recorded during the poet Takahashi Mutsuo’s 高橋睦郎 recent trip to Michigan, he reads from his memoirs Twelve Views from the Distance 『十二の遠景』about his memories of his mother in the days immediately before she abandoned him to go to China.  

In 
intimate, poetic language, this book describes Takahashi’s youth in a poor, rural family in southwestern Japan and the tragic ways his family’s destiny intersected with the rise and fall of the Japanese empire.  Click here to go to the Amazon page for this book.