Giorgos Alisanoglou

Hello, Mr. Alisanoglou. Thank you for being here and agreeing to this interview.

Me too. Good afternoon.

Let’s take it from the start. Your role is threefold as a translator, editor and poet. But let’s start with translation. How did translation come about in your life?

What you call a triple role, in my view, is really only one, that of the reader. Translation started for me at a very young age, at around nineteen, twenty years old as a reader of texts. Primarily I try to translate the Greek language itself, in the sense of the reader. How this level of writing of significant texts or poetry, theater, literature, how this is transferred from other languages to Greek by other translators, I mean and how the Greek language itself even the original texts of the Greek language, how this wealth we possess was perceived by me as a reader. That is a process of translation for me and my first contact with it. To unearth this wealth as it were to go in and extract it. That was a challenge for me to be able to do something myself, as an exercise in style, to attempt to translate a short text, for example. I started translating lyrics from bands and groups, or favorite rock poets because we played in amateur bands at the time and we’d translate lyrics to sing and render into Greek. That’s how it started. And that is very much about music and rhythm. Translation and of course language pertains to rhythm and music and rhyme, of course. And that was a challenge. If we’re approaching it purely on a level of how something is translated to become a book, that is, literary translation which encompasses poetry, theater, novels, and perhaps philosophical discourse which is probably the farthest literary translation extends to, after that it’s technical translations. There are other things to consider, then. It’s no longer just about the translator and the text, the author who is being translated. Of course it is primarily about that, but in my view there is something equally as important, a process that is much more vital and that is the audience. The recipient of the translation. When you translate something in the 21st century, now or even in the recent past, you have to view and harmonize it perhaps — that’s a big question that merits discussion — with what? Where do you attribute it and where do you address it? To a potential reader, of course. But do you ask yourself as a translator or as an experienced reader: Is this audience, your reader, ready for such a translation of a difficult text? Because I am very much concerned with difficult texts. With poetry a lot is lost in translation because it has all these layers.

Do you also think about this from the publisher’s point of view?

Yes, very much so. And as I said, that’s inextricably linked to the reader, the writer, the translator, and the publisher. All of it is about the writing, the text. I also look at it from the perspective of the publisher in a wider context. From the writing and translation to how it will be printed and published. That’s the context. That is, how, if it should, and why this should be published. And if it is, whom is it addressed to? To what audience? By audience I mean the reading public. I mean every nation, and every person who inhabits a territory and their individual cultures.

That’s the common denominator.

Yes, it is. Starting from the original text moving on to the translation and from there to the publication of a book or a literary journal the common denominator is precisely the recipient, the readership. I’m sure you understand that this perception differs by country because of varying cultural levels. I mean as recipients. And that should… Of course the author and the translator are responsible for the text in principle and the way it will be transferred to another language, in this case Greek. But this poses a challenge for the translator in producing a translation that is faithful to the words, but also the concepts that a novel, or a book of poetry should convey, how these concepts can be accurately carried into the Greek language. I mean that a writer, when writing an original text, may not be concerned with the reader. They feel that if a reader is interested, they should figure it out. They might or might not like it but I’ll find a small audience. Whereas a translator of a major foreign novel is much more concerned with the readership. A book will remain in the library, I mean in the legacy of the Greek language. So they are very much interested in it. Someone who translates, for example Baudelaire’s The Flowers of Evil again or some works by William Shakespeare and other modern 20th, 21st century authors is rightfully concerned with leaving behind a translation that is as good as possible to the reading public.

In this sense, then, what does “to translate” mean to you?

This is the good and the difficult question you translators always ask. I mean journalist-translators. Look, “to translate” is to render a foreign text as best as you can, as faithfully and responsibly as possible into your own language and to be able to bridge it, to find solutions and bridge the gap that exists between languages. Thus carving a path because that’s what translation does, it opens new paths and directions and conversation with other peoples and with other languages. For me, this is what translation is, a bridge which should be as solid as possible with strong foundations so that it can more directly, more beautifully and perhaps more easily and magically, as only literature can do, carve out pathways of conversation with other languages.

And what difficulties does a translator encounter mainly with the text for a start in trying to open up these paths and build these bridges?

I think it’s all difficult from start to finish. It’s just that it’s a personal bet for a translator, a person attempting a literary and not a technical translation, and I make this distinction because technical translations serve the market, directly meeting the needs of a company or a product. In a literary translation though, they are responsible for what and how something is delivered. I think in the last twenty years, maybe a little bit more, we’ve had very good translations in Greece both from publishing houses and journals. The standards are much higher nowadays. Both from major languages and less wide-spread ones. Many books are now translated from the original language, thankfully, whereas in the past they were all translated from English, French, or German. I mean, Chinese poetry used to be translated from English or French, whereas now Chinese or Arabic poetry or literature is translated from the original.

Yesterday we were with Vicky Alyssandraki who published in Saixpirikon, from Finnish.

Now she is also translating a book by an Icelandic author, Eirikur Norðdahl. Translation has come a long way as has the demand for translations that are as faithful as possible to the original. Because that’s always the point. And for me personally, as a translator… I don’t make a living out of translation. I elect to translate books that I like and it serves me as an author or a reader. I like the book and attempt to translate it. It’s also enjoyable. We should emphasize this point, as well. The satisfaction a translator derives when they choose to translate a text from the difficulties they encounter and the solutions they try to find. It’s a delightful game with language and writing that takes us on a journey. I’ve been told by translator friends, colleagues, writer-translators, much more proficient and with many books on their resume in terms of translation, they’d say to me, “It’s very relaxing for me to translate when I have nothing to write about. I turn to reading, and I look for texts and translate them into Greek as practice and if I finish them at some point, I hand them over to a publisher”. This again has to do with reading as I said at the beginning, and writing and authorship. Because writing always involves more than one person. A translator is simultaneously a writer because they deal with translation and the author, but also with the reader. The author writes at the same time as the reader who is often the same person.

Amazing. And, as a publisher you have a dual or triple role which is essentially only one. What’s the translator’s relationship with a publisher overall, and specifically in your case?

In Saixpirikon?

Yes. Which is a particular case involving many factors at once.

Saixpirikon, as you know, is a small publishing house. That offers a certain ease in maneuvering and finding partners more easily. It’s a more tight-knit group of people but of course always open to new ones. But communication is easier and more direct. There are no gradations like in a publishing house with offices, paraprofessionals, managers, subordinates, and so on. It’s a human-centered publishing house as am I, and all small publishers and I have external collaborators who are graphic designers, editors, translators, and of course, writers with whom we discuss, make recommendations and plan what will be published in the next couple of years or so. And there’s some magic in this thing because it’s a group that grows as people leave and new ones join and we are always open to that. That affects the nature of proposals in that you might get a sample translation from Icelandic, Finnish, or German by a translator friend and you say, “I like it, go ahead, let’s see how we can move it forward.” But not because we necessarily want… Great, we have a publishing house and we want to print books. That’s not the point. The point is what I said before. It’s to print some books translated from languages that… Texts that we as readers find extraordinary and we want to bring them to light and offer them to the Greek readership because we want to open up these pathways, these new directions towards other languages and from other languages to us. And we get to meet friends abroad. We go out, they come here like now at the International Book Fair or we meet in other festivals abroad. You meet people who — how can I put it? — have this perversion, in a good sense, who are enamored with translating, with writing, and language, with rendering texts and giving them to you though we don’t know each other well, but I’ll get to know you through your writing, in another language. That’s what we want to do. I mean, we also promote Greeks and they get translated into other languages. And this is a fruitful interaction that opens up pathways and new horizons.

And how do you find the books you translate?

That’s exactly what I do. I find them myself by reading and following publications worldwide, be it in Europe or beyond, or the Balkans, keeping up to date as much as I can. Maybe even from languages I don’t personally speak, from literary journals or from festivals I go to. And if I think something is interesting I pass it on to a translator partner and they translate it for me from a language I don’t know, as I said, and we then get in touch with the poet or the writer. Or the collaborators make the suggestion themselves. It could even be a classic. Because I think a publishing house should… It’s easy to publish a classic book today but it’s hard to translate it. There are no rights for Shakespeare or Ibsen, or Rimbaud but who would dare translate these behemoths? It’s always a challenge. Of course, every ten or twenty years these texts should be retranslated in a more contemporary language. But though it’s good to keep printing these classic texts, that’s the easy part, because it’s a classic and therefore always accessible. The difficulty is in the translation. The difficulty is in searching, identifying and finding people and writers who operate in the present day, who are living and experiencing the current socio-political and cultural situation. The young and latest writers. I am very interested in how they are affected by the situation worldwide and how they interpret our times. That is the big stake for a writer today and for a translator who converts it to another language, and for the reader. And that’s how people communicate. Through discourse.

In closing, what is your view on the future of the book? In all its forms and manifestations, writing, translation and publishing, text and context.

Look. Right. Evidently, translation will never cease to exist. Because translation is a basic means of communication. There is this mobility, this free flow around the world, in the last many years we can move and travel wherever we want. I mean, it’s much easier than before. And that’s all the more reason why it’s important to keep translating texts from other languages as well as having Greek translated into other languages. And so more and more paths are opened. It’s more imperative these days. Translation will always exist. Now, how books will be bought and whether they will be in the future, is a different story because book writing and translation will always exist. It is a human need itself, part of our existence, our being. It will never stop. Every day, even as we speak, people around us are writing. Some well, some badly, some mediocre, but they do write. They put pen to paper. Some translate, others are translated. But as for the future of the book itself, I’m optimistic about it, because there are online and print forms. At least in Greece, here in the south they will exist way into the future and they will progress contiguously. I see that as a publisher. Granted, there is the digital, the online book, but it’s hard to read a novel off a tablet. Some people do. But, let’s not repeat banalities such as liking the way a book smells or wanting to take notes on it. That’s it. The book will always be there. Our main concern is to print the best books we can. Because the book isn’t just a product or a commodity, it is a spiritual asset. Of course publishing houses or bookstores are merchants, they make transactions. But it’s a meaningful transaction when you love it and define books as the spiritual goods that they are. And that’s our culture. That’s our whole language. And finally, if I may, I’ll tell you something Despina [Editor’s Note: Despina Lamprou] likes. It’s by a very good friend of mine, the poet Kostas Kanavouris, and it’s relevant to translation. It’s an excerpt from one of his poems, a favorite of mine. He says: “Poetry is translated silence and silence is translated poetry but we know poetry gets lost in translation and so does silence.” That’s the thing about translation, poetry really does get lost in it, but so does silence which probably can’t be translated at all. But we have to find ways and solutions to move forward within this and be able to do it as well as possible.

Thank you very much for the interesting discussion.

Thank you very much