Interview with The Translated Chinese Fiction Podcast
Image by Angus Stewart
A few months ago, I made a new Twitter friend who, I discovered, produces a podcast about Chinese literature in translation. I told Angus Stewart (@AngusLikesWords) that I had had a similar idea at one point, and I was pleased to see that someone else had the discipline to make it a reality! Since then, I’ve been listening to his podcast on Spotify (it can also be found on YouTube here; Apple Podcasts users can subscribe here and Android users here). I was looking forward to the day he’d do an episode on Mo Yan, the 2012 laureate for the Nobel Prize in Literature.
My master’s thesis was titled The Economics of Literature in Translation: How Americans View Mo Yan (2015). I went straight into a PhD program after my MA, so I haven’t published my master’s thesis yet, which is why I’m so excited that Angus had me on his show to discuss Mo Yan. Most guests of the show are the translators themselves; however, in the case of Mo Yan, interviewing his English translator, Howard Goldblatt, would be the equivalent of Jay Z making an appearance. I’m glad that, for now, my rather academic perspective could be called upon.
Originally, my MA supervisor wanted me to tell a Chinese audience what Americans thought of Mo Yan. Of course, my first thought was, “Do Americans even know who Mo Yan is?” He had just won the Nobel—surely that meant that he had a fan base, right? As anything to do with translation, the answer was not so simple. In my thesis, I demonstrated the economics of translated Chinese literature, making the argument that translators’ advocacy proves key not only in making the text itself marketable to target readers but also in ensuring that literary prize committees become aware of the intrinsic value of an author’s works. I use Mo Yan’s Sandalwood Death as an analogy for the process and significance of translation. Making such an analogy utilizes an analytical framework founded on economic principles, which shifts the interpretations of Mo Yan’s works away from the methodologies based on China’s national narrative in order to focus on the creative sensibilities of the author himself.
In the podcast, Angus and I discuss Mo Yan’s rise to fame as well as my interest in his works. The term “native-place literature” (xiangtu wenxue) makes an appearance insofar as it has been used by scholars to understand why Mo Yan sets all of his stories in Gaomi township. (I was quite pleased to note the historical connections of Gaomi in Shandong province to Dongbei.) We also talked about talked about Howard Goldblatt’s translation practices, style and/or philosophy. Instead of covering Mo Yan’s epic novels, the interview focuses on Radish 《透明的红萝卜》, the novella that launched his career in 1985 but which was not published in English until 2015. In connection with Mo Yan’s intricate use of language in describing the protagonist’s worldview, Angus suggests that Radish might be taken as an example of Weird literature wherein disjointed childhood senses result in a rich yet confounding experience.
The following are some questions I had in preparation for the interview and during its wake. They might be of use to anyone else studying Mo Yan and/or Radish.
What are the implications of using Magical Realism as an analytical framework for understanding Mo Yan’s works?
What other analytical frameworks or methodologies might be helpful in understanding Mo Yan?
Are different research methodologies needed to analyze Mo Yan’s works in translation compared to their originals?
Is there a way to get past methodological frameworks that privilege (China’s) national history?
What is the significance of making a translation marketable for lay readers, as opposed to pedagogical translations for students of Chinese and Chinese literature?
What does the loss of innocence in Radish mean in a larger sense? Is it a complete loss? Should/Does our understanding of the protagonist change knowing that the events take place in a Chinese context?
What is childhood (to Mo Yan, to Goldblatt, to Angus, to me…)? From an analytical point of view, why is the Weird associated with childlike perspectives?