First the good news: in 2021 more books were sold in the Netherlands than in the past ten years. But when you look at the list, you notice something: the top 100 contains only two translated literary novels. And both (by Douglas Stuart and Jonathan Franzen) were translated from English.
Where were the novels of French-speaking writers? From Sweden, Italy, Spain, Poland? Collections of poetry from Ukraine. Or to cast it just outside Europe: who are the literary heroes in Japan, Nigeria, Syria, Guatemala? If Netflix buys 25 Korean series because The Squid Games is such a hit, where is the literary equivalent?
Before 2014 there were more than ten literary translations in the top 100. But the translated novel, say the sales figures and thus the publishers, is not read. Publishers say they have put out a third less in translations.
There are a number of reasons for this: Anglophone literature is certainly read in its original language by a younger generation. Mostly books are translated that have already done well on the American market. And especially from authors who are already established; innovative debuts or unknown voices are missing. Add to this the fact that book sales are increasingly taking place online, where the emphasis is more on bestsellers and literary titles are under pressure.
Also read: Less and less literature is being translated. How bad is that?
Atlas Contact publisher Jessica Nash recently predicted in NRC impoverishment: “In ten years’ time there will still be piles of translations by the likes of Knausgård, Murakami, Édouard Louis, Colson Whitehead, Paolo Cognetti, and Hanya Yanagihara in bookstores.”
More worrying is the Dutch ‘obsession with the Anglo-Saxon world’, says Liberian-Dutch writer Vamba Sherif in the NRC podcast Between the lines†
He is right. Love and sorrow, life and death are universal themes. War, migration, the feeling of not belonging, recognizable subjects. Abdulrazak Gurnah describes in Afterlife the run-up to the First World War, but from the perspective of present-day Tanzania. That the Western world was surprised when he was awarded the Nobel Prize in literature last year says more about the West than about its literary quality.
And if those subjects are not recognizable: after all, the wonderful thing about reading a good novel is that it opens up new worlds.
This is only possible if there are enough translators who are qualified and well paid. And that’s where it comes in. Anyone who is annoyed by the crooked subtitles of a good film knows the importance of – as Chekhov translator Hans Boland puts it – “magic with words”.
Les années by Annie Ernaux, translated by Rokus Hofstede as The Years, which last year received the Martinus Nijhoff Prize for his translations, is full of autobiographical references. Sometimes he leaves quotes untranslated, sometimes he provides context. Without Hofstede, the Dutchman who hardly read French would be deprived of this work. And that also applies to novels from smaller language areas and other parts of the world.
Read also The Years’ review
The call from a number of translators to mention them on the cover from now on is a small but important acknowledgment of their work. Now there are still publishers who dare to publish translated literature more often. And especially readers who dare to dream away from a book outside their bubble.
A version of this article also appeared in the newspaper of April 28, 2022