I recently read an article entitled, “Can you inherit an e-book?” I didn’t think much about it until two days ago. The article’s author began with the anecdote about the settlement of his recently deceased aunt’s estate. Her books were divvied up between the nieces and nephews. He goes on to write,
[W]hat we inherited, I suppose, was a particular way of seeing things, an intimate philosophy. That’s what a personal library is, I guess: an assortment of books that have survived successive purgings of the shelves over the years, leaving only the ideas and insights a reader truly treasures.
The article pondered the idea of now that we are in the digital age of the book, what will happen to specific moments like inheriting someone’s personal library. How can it possibly be meaningful to be presented with an e-reader after the reading of the will?
Like I stated, I read the article, thought it an interesting question and then completely let it escape from my mind. It wasn’t until I was in the library did I think back to it. I was surrounded my beautiful books (I was sitting in section dedicated to Sanskrit books). They were exclusively hardbacks and as they lined the shelves, they were in their own way, works of art. The spines were written in varying colors (gold, red, green) and much attention was given to their design. I have no idea what the content was but that is besides the point. I was just taken by this massive collection that I was surrounded by.
I like the easiness that an e-reader gives to travelling and it helps save me money and time by utilizing the public library’s online collection. Because I live in NYC, it’s not always ideal to schlep that 900+ page book of Russian literature around and instead, download it onto a Kindle.
The quandary that the article’s writer takes on is an interesting one. But I proffer that we don’t really need to worry about this. The books that are most meaningful to a person will always be procured in physical form, whether it is to scribble away in the margins, pass on to a dear friend, or to keep on the bookshelf so everyday they can glance at the spine and think fondly of it. We still hold our books close to our heart and they will still be around long after our own lives. Nieces and nephews will still gather to see who gets to keep the coffee table art books and who gets the slew of 18th Century French literature.
Yesterday was all rain and chill in New York City. So what better way to spend a damp evening than to go to The Bridge Series event hosted by Goethe Insitut. The Bridge Series “is the first independent reading and discussion series in New York City devoted to literary translation.”
I was pleasantly surprise. I can be a tough critique when it comes to readings (meaning, normally they are incredibly boring). But these translators chose mighty fine selections and their discussion after the reading was quite interesting. The translators included Ross Benjamin, Isabel Fargo Cole, Tess Lewis, and Tim Mohr.All four are working from German to English.
The standout of this whole event was how exciting all of the selections were. If they are not already released, the novels will be available very soon this year in the US (the UK already has some available in translation). Also, for any Kafka aficionados out there, Ross Benjamin is currently working on a translation of Kafka’s complete Diaries.
There were two questions that most peaked my interest. The first being, what happens if the author includes a blatant error in the original. An example given was an author writing about New York City had listed Gansevoort Street as being down near the World Trade Center (when in reality, it is over west in the Meatpacking District). The original author did this because he liked the sound of the name. It was convenient that he is a contemporary author because the translator was able to discuss this point with him and it was subsequently corrected in the translation. But whether or not such a mistake should be corrected was discussed further with one of the most notorious errors: Frank Kafka putting a sword in the hand of the Statue of Liberty in his work, Amerika.
The second question was about how contemporary German literature (and foreign lit as a whole) has changed recently and how does that apply to translating. The translators hit upon the fact that many references are no longer solely Germany/Austria/Switzerland based. They also incorporate many North American trends and concepts. The translators didn’t weigh on whether they thought this was a good or bad thing but they did note that they didn’t have to look up as many culture reference anymore.
All in all, I was delighted to go to last night’s Bridge Series. I recommend it. Not only do they cover German literature but other languages as well. You can visit their website for more information.
It sounds so more tragic than it actually is. Although, it is something that has driven me bonkers for almost a year. But before I continue let me take a step back. Last June, I packed up all of my few worldly possessions and chucked them into a storage unit. Got rid of my crummy apartment and left the country. I was gone for a handful of months, bouncing around, before I returned to New York City.
The majority of my storage unit is packed primarily with books (followed by in distant second, no doubt, by my various coats). I have still to find a permanent living situation. I’ve been subletting and I will continue to sublet in furnished apartments for the next couple of months. It has been doable this past year not having all of my clothes (except for those coats–how I miss my olive green parka!), but my books…that’s a whole other story.
Now, shall we return to the plight of the doppelgänger library? I have so many books (don’t we all?) and like previously mentioned, they are boxed away, alone, in my messy storage unit with nothing to keep them company but my coats and slow cooker. I own very little furniture, only a few wine glasses remain, but boxes and boxes labelled “books.” I wish I could retrieve them. There are so many I would like to read or at least look through. I’ve been avoiding bookshops like the plague so as not to buy duplicates (I already have multiple copies of Gravity’s Rainbow, a book I have never read and the reason for which I have multiples, we might get into at a later date).
Because I’ve been moving around a lot, it is not ideal either to be schlepping extra bits and pieces along with me (I live out of one large duffel bag). I’ve tried to take books from the library but, of course, one cannot write in these or keep them for that matter. I have successfully tried not to purchase ersatz replacements, but these doppelgängers have called to me and I have called back to them. I have perused the varying copies of The Master and Margarita that exists. Different translators, different cover designs! All the possibilities, but, yet I have refrained from giving in.
Right now, I just have a small stack that follows me (no hardcovers please). When I’m through with them, these books will also find their home in my storage unit. As I continue to live a transient life (both, at times, wanted and tiresome) and resist the itch of the doppelgänger library, I think to my copy of Bulgakov’s classic that is waiting for me once I become un-unemployed and permanent. I bought it used with a striking cover of glowing eyes and its pleasant surprise of a previous owner’s personal inscription on the first page,
Not only is Juliane Stadelmann a talented emerging playwright, she is [I hope!] the first in a line of interviews on Acid Free Pulp. I wanted to showcase her talent and get her perspective on writing and publishing outside of the US.
Juliane is originally from Salzwedel, Germany. She has studied as an actor, worked as a surf instructor in Hawaii and France, and co-edited Tippgemeinschaft 2013. This past year she worked in collaboration with an American playwright to translate and stage dramatic readings of both of their plays in New York City. She currently studies writing at Deutsches Literturinstitut Leipzig and was awarded a place this year in the Stuck für Stuck program at Schauspielhaus in Vienna.
How did you make the leap from actor to playwright?
It was not really a leap I think. I’ve been playwriting even before I started acting and going to drama school in Berlin. It was more a thing of changing priorities. After drama school, I felt like I loved being on stage but at the same time I realized working as an actress cuts my personal freedom in a really weird way. From psycho group processes in a company over weird castings to how the fuck am I gonna earn money with that?? So I decided to focus on writing and applied at the Deutsches Literaturinstitut Leipzig. I got in and finally had the space and flexibility I needed to be creative and happy but still theatrical.
You recently were involved in a translation project with an American playwright. I know this was the first time you had your work translated. How was the process? Were there aspects you expected or didn’t?
The technical process was getting in touch with each other by a workshop in Leipzig lead by the translator, Uljana Wolf, and then work on our translations over the winter and present the work in New York in April where we had another great workshop with the distinguished Walser-translator Susan Bernofsky. The process on a personal level was quite unusual I think: I met my translation partner here in Germany personally which has been a quite luxurious situation because usually you are not interacting with your translator on that personal level I guess. Still it was hard for me to give my text away to him. (Maybe, especially because I got to know him.) It was harder than giving it to a theatre (because that’s what naturally happens with dramatic texts). Maybe because I was afraid he’d change too much by putting it into English. While our annotations went back and forth via email I was thinking all the time: Hopefully he understands what it all MEANS! Like literally. I know I shouldn’t have but that’s the truth. Putting text on stage is an act of translation, too, but it allows room for interpretation whereas putting a text into a different language might change it completely. You really have to trust your translator. I had to learn that.
But also I appreciated the things I learned about my own language. And it’s true what [another collaborator] said in one of our presentations: You don’t have to be fluent in the language you are translating but you have to be perfect in your own language. And there is something really true about it. You sometimes touch the border of almost untranslatable phrases…that’s where it becomes really interesting not only as a translator but as a writer.
You’ve been involved with prestigious awards and workshops in Vienna and Graz recently. What have these experiences been like?
For me it has been great. I know that other writers feel different about it, but I think I have a very competitive character. I would trying being an athlete if I wasn’t trying to become an author. And if I was 15 pounds lighter, of course. But that’s a different issue. I like this mixture of competition and creative gathering, because usually those drama awards go hand in hand with some workshops before. So it’s not just about winning. You come together with other authors, in groups of maybe 4 to 6 and some mentors (dramaturges, directors, theatre heads, writers – anyone who is already successfully making a living with words or theatre work) and you read and discuss your text. Sometimes, as in Graz, you even get a director and actors to try some first rehearsals and stage concepts. So it’s a great chance to really work with your words! Critiques in those workshops are often sharper and maybe more honest than in the seminar-situation of my writing class in Leipzig, beause we don`t know each other that well and we all want to have “the best play in the universe” to MAYBE win the award at the end. I really enjoy it though it can be frustrating sometimes of course. You are compared to each other all the time and influenced by the critical words of the jury maybe more than by your own ideas. But that’s something you have to learn to deal with in general.
Although, Austria and Germany share, to an extent, the same language and certain historical and cultural points, are you finding any differences in the theatre world between the two countries?
That’s a hard question. I guess a real theatre-reviewer could write a whole essay about that issue. I can only say that theatre in the German speaking world is diverse in general. Even from Hamburg to Leipzig you’ll find different theatres with different concepts and a different approach to scenic work. That’s the nice thing about theater and playwriting: take one sentence out of a play and every group of a director and some actors will create something different out of it. Besides this, the ensemble-system exists in both of the countries which still is something really “old-school” that other European countries don’t have anymore in that strong of a way. I think tradition still plays a big role in German theatres on stage and also behind the scenes–in some more, in some less. But the hierarchies inside the business are strong and it’sworth being reformed in Germany and Austria. But that’s my personal point of view.
What is the German literary world like? How is for young, emerging writers and what is the process?
That’s another question which is hard to answer. A common and popular way to get some attention is to win some “Literaturpreis” (literature prize) given away by some publishing house, TV stations or magazines. You apply and you can be awarded with some cash and maybe some publishing deals but there’s no guarantee to be successful after it. Also many young writers think the way those awards are given away are cheesy and you have to write “commercially” to be successful in this game. I’d love to know how you write commercially though…I’d be ruling the world with my books then! But I guess everyone has to decide which game to play. I like having those workshops around any award or prize because whatever you win or don`t win, you can always get some work done with those people and you have a well crafted text after that process. But not all the prizes go with workshops. Some are just pure gambling: Win or loose. I never took part in one of those.
Another way is residencies given away by German cities or states (Bundesländer). They usually go with a free apartment for some months and a little grant. So you have a chance to focus on your work for a couple of months. But usually those are given away to people who already have had some little success or at least got printed somewhere.
And then you can of course just do your own thing. Publish your stuff by yourself and try to keep it underground and individual. There are good possibilities to get support for those projects, at least here in Saxony where I live right now. It’s a lot of organizing and paperwork but you are free do make your own decisions and you also get to know other people publishing.
In general, I guess in the literary world it’s still more complicated to get one’s foot into the door than into the playwright world, because I feel like the general need for good young plays right now is bigger than the need for another novel. But I don’t have figures to proof that. It’s just a feeling.
Jet ski or 100 bottles wine? Which is a better prize?
Are you kidding me?? Every author should win a JETSKI! We would all be better writers and human beings, I`m sure. And I could finally work on my big-wave-career because from a certain wave size on you need a jetski that pulls you into the wave as your human paddle-arms are not able to speed up the way a jetski does. You have to be as fast as the wave to be able to catch it. That’s what I’m talking about!
NO MORE BOOK REVIEWS! I swear this time. They take up too much of my free brain space. No more (well, at least not in the foreseeable future). A published book review really takes a lot of time. You have an initial draft, edits/back and forth with an editor, and also the time it took to read the book. My desire for my own writing and book choices certainly outranks that of publishing a measly review. Only books I have chosen for myself so be prepared for more write-ups for fiction coming soon.
Playing catch up on my favorite blogs. I’ve been a bit quiet lately. I’m not a big fan of the way that WordPress organizes the blogs I follow; plus I am sometimes negligent in pressing the ‘Follow’ button. I’ve always used Google Reader but now with its demise, I must find something new to organize everything. Suggestions greatly appreciated.
Things I’m happy with: Writing! Yes, I’ve finally gotten some more words down on the page for a book I’m writing. This plot is a bit twisty, so may I share my new favorite virtual corkboard that helps me stay organized and it’s free? Definitely recommended. www.stixy.com/
Even with all of this mind-stretching-in-different-directions, I still try to put up a few interesting writerly, bookish things on the ole Twitter feed even if I can’t get to the blog. www.twitter.com/AcidFreePulp
So things have been a little quiet around here lately with some travelling, a pseudo-vacation (working vacation?), and a strange arm malady that has made typing painful (how can I be a writer when I must dictate email responses at my cell phone?! oh, why cruel world?!?). But enough of my complaining. Sometimes when you are benched, it’s a perfect time to get some reading done and eat frozen yogurt. But anyhoo.
While on my beach vacation, I started with David Sedaris’ newest book. I’ve been a big fan for a long time and have even listened to all of his audiobooks. With the exception of Squirrel Meets Chipmunk, I’ve loved them all. I was so excited to get my hands on his newest, Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls.
Unlike his past essay collections, this one is uneven. There were moments that I absolutely loved it. I noticed that he excelled–like he always does–when writing about his family. I was less enthralled with his time visiting dentists in France. I couldn’t help but feel let down when I read a passage that had that absolute gut-busting Sedaris humor and observation because unfortunately the collection has some lackluster essays as well.
This collection is marked “Essays, Etc.” That et cetera is sometimes satirical “short stories” or a long poem closing the collection. They, of course, had humor but they served as a way for the writer to vent his frustrations with certain aspects or individuals in the United States. Although, sometimes very funny, I found myself hoping for their end so I could move on to parts about his father or what other strange mischief Sedaris got into as a child.
Although somewhat missing the usual Sedaris pizzazz, there were still essays that were a pleasure to read. When the audiobook comes out, I will still listen to it. David Sedaris, no matter what, is an exquisite story teller.
Below, is a short video about the title of the book.
Even while running around all week trying to tie up loose ends in anticipation of my super sunny vacation, I paused to go through the Flavorwire 25 Vintage Photos of Librarians Being Awesome.
Back in January, I declared, “You must read this book now. Right now. This very second.” Renata Adler’s book, Speedboat, is one of my favorite books of all time. I always nominate this book when people ask for recommendations, but then it would pain me to add but it’s out of print! But not anymore. Grab up a beautiful copy from the New York Review of Books where they are having a special discount of 20% off right now.
But anyhoo, I was one of the lucky souls that was able to grab a seat at the incredibly packed Center for Fiction last night. Adler was there to read a few excerpts from Speedboat and Pitch Dark, followed by an interesting Q&A where she discussed writing the two novels, her time as a staff writer at the New Yorker, amongst other topics. Adler was quick and witty and the entire audience loved her. I even brought a couple of lovely friends who were visiting from Germany who had heard all of my fellow New York writerly friends and me kvell about Renata Adler and Speedboat. Beforehand, we all bought books. I have never read Pitch Dark and I can’t wait to get started. My German friends are so excited to begin Speedboat.
After the talk, Renata Adler signed everyone’s books. I told her about the class I taught a few years ago to undergrads and how much they enjoyed her book. She wanted to know what other books were taught in the class, too. When I told her Philip K. Dick, she replied back saying she really needed to read him.
If you were unable to attend yesterday evening’s event, the Center for Fiction posted a recent interview they conducted with her. A favorite snippet is when she talks about the process of writing her novels (which are not in any traditional structure),
Oh, I always shuffle. And there, the computer is just a disaster because the only thing I’ve ever been compulsively neat about is typing. I type with two fingers, and so I would always make a mistake near the end of the page, and since White Out is no use, I would throw the thing out and start again at the beginning. Then along came the computer and I thought it was going to help because you can move everything around all the time and you can change every sentence 50 different ways in seconds. But that’s exactly what I don’t want, because then what was I doing? If the computer can shift everything in a split-second, then what am I doing here? That’s what I used to do so carefully. One of the things that’s almost comically a problem is AutoCorrect, and what AutoCorrect thinks I’m saying.
I have just discovered this week that a personal favorite, Project Gutenberg, has many editions of Punch, or the London Charivariavailable for FREE! In addition to issues of the magazine, Project Gut also offers some of their books. In Mr. Punch’s Book of Love(subtitle: Being the Humours of Courtship and Matrimony),
Only recently we heard a gentleman telling a group of people in a hotel smoking-room that Mark Twain got a hundred pounds from Punch for writing that famous line, “I used your soap two years ago; since then I have used no other.”
Punch was a humor and satire magazine founded in 1841. According to Wikipedia, “Reflecting their satiric and humorous intent, the two editors took for their name and masthead the anarchic glove puppet, Mr. Punch, of Punch and Judy; the name also referred to a joke made early on about one of the magazine’s first editors, Lemon, that ‘punch is nothing without lemon.’”
The original illustrations are a nice treat to accompany the texts that Project Gut has collected. I love to scroll through old political cartoons (don’t get me going on a collection of Boss Tweed & Tammany Hall cartoons; the hours will pass by).
Yet again, I have stumbled upon something new which will ultimately distract me from being productive in one way or another!
I suppose this can be considered a sister to yesterday’s post (I Will Not Pay You To Read My Story). Since the end of December, I have been in a back and forth with a quarterly literary journal. They asked for a story which I happily offered and publication was agreed upon. I hadn’t heard much back but my contact at the journal was looking into it and he was nothing but helpful. He finally heard back from the editors above him and two or three (the number escapes me at the moment) sent some comments and suggestions back. I agreed with some and vetoed others and I sent a second draft back. It wasn’t any heavy lifting and they had made a couple of good points. We were still waiting back for the last editor’s comments.
Let me sidetrack for a moment and say: I am skeptical of journal editors who engage in far too much editing. By that I mean, in regards to literary magazines and journals there should only be light editing when necessary. Editors should be supportive and want to work with you and publish your work in its finest form. Everyone should shine.
Now, back to our story. My helpful and attentive contact was trying to hear back from the final editor but he was having trouble contacting her. As a reminder, I was asked in December and now it is March. I had not concerned myself too much because I knew it would get done. The editors seemed placated. The other day, I finally received the hold-out’s edits. I started to look through them. She immediately wanted to re-title it with far worse titles (this is always a red flag!!). Her line edits were terrible and then I realized she clearly had never read the revised addition and was commenting on an old draft. I stopped reading.
With the exception of my contact, this gaggle of editors was a complete horror show! They were completely unprofessional and their comments, quite frankly, were rubbish (which is unfortunate because this is a well-regarded journal). I suppose my point is, it doesn’t matter how far you are along with your writing and/or publishing career, you should not have to compromise what you think is right or you are comfortable with. You should not have to change your story or poem or essay to accommodate a group of unprofessional knuckleheads. Send your writing some place else where they aren’t running a dog and pony show. I have had plenty of wonderful experiences with editors who offer constructive feedback and edits. Remember, it’s never a good sign if they are hard to reach, unprofessional, trying to chop up your story, etc. YOU CAN ALWAYS TAKE A SUBMISSION BACK!
I have grappled with the idea of posting my email to them. I will not name names out of decorum even though I would never again recommend this publication to a single friend of mine. I hope by including this email, it can remind others in similar predicaments that they don’t have to stand for crummy editors but do remember that you should not burn bridges. Don’t roll over but do let them know what is problematic. Take back your story immediately and send it some place else.
Okay, look, I’m annoyed but please keep in mind that my annoyance is not with you at all. I already sent back edits which this person clearly did not read. I am disregarding all of her edits including wanting to change the title. The title shall not be changed. She can refer to the draft I last sent you if she would like to notate that. I don’t mind doing a little bit of house cleaning (some of which I definitely agreed with in that previous round; they made good points which I had already been thinking of). I have never worked with a journal/magazine/publisher that demanded so many edits from a short story (and an extremely short story to boot). So with that said, they can take it as is with what I sent the other time or pass. I haven’t had this much rigmarole with editors before…I don’t have time for unprofessionalism.
p.s. and they should know better than to ask a writer to change a title unless it’s a story about getting my period and I’ve titled it “Crimson Tide.”
**Just as a disclaimer, I personally know my contact, so the post script–meant in all seriousness to this particular gaggle of editors–might only be appropriate because of my aforementioned friendship with the contact.**
It sounds so more tragic than it actually is. Although, it is something that has driven me bonkers for almost a year. But before I continue let me take a step back. Last June, I packed up all of my few worldly possessions and chucked them into a storage unit. Got rid of my crummy apartment and left the country. I was gone for a handful of months, bouncing around, before I returned to New York City.
