Evgenia Grammatikopoulou

Good afternoon, Mrs. Grammatikopoulou.

Good afternoon.

We are glad to be interviewing you.

Thank you for having me.

We would like to start with a few general questions. For example, how did translation come about in your life?

I’d say that translation came in my life because I was surrounded by books. I was very close to books thanks to the environment I grew up in and also I grew very fond of them. Nobody forced books on me. I just grew up in an environment where books were highly regarded. Plus, there were many books around the house. It was a natural object, so to speak. Reading wasn’t presented to me as a “ticket for future success”. I just happened to like words and letters. There were others in the family who didn’t follow a similar path. Then, having finished my studies in French Literature, I made an attempt, which failed miserably, to follow an Erasmus program in Strasbourg, for technical translation, as I had begun to think that translation suited me as a potential profession. So, some of my professors as well as several people around me suggested that this was a very good opportunity, the School of Technical Translation and Interpreting in Strasbourg, but I suffered a lot. I only had to translate technical texts, but I felt they did not concern me at all. I was simply bored. They were filled with words that I didn’t even know in Greek. all this legal, economic, financial jargon or those contracts and agreements… There was no way! It was a nightmare for me. So, in that semester, I started thinking of translating literature again. Then I did an MA in literature, and at the same time I made some early tentative attempts. I took the initiative to translate some short stories and novels, and I slowly started knocking on some doors. I did so timidly and with quite a bit of fear, because I knew that it’s quite an oversaturated sector. At this point, I would like to mention Magda Kotzia, the creator, owner and editor of Exandas Publications, who trusted me from very early on, saw my work, liked it, and gave me my first book straight away. It was a book by René Girard, in other words, theory. That was a very big help. It was a push, because someone showed me confidence. So I took it on board, so to speak, and the next calls I made to publishers were easier. They’d seen a sample of my work, so things were easier.

Excellent. Could you tell us what “translating” means, in your opinion?

I’m not using this as a quote, but I looked it up in my notes the day before yesterday, when we were preparing these two events for the invisible translator. Tsvetaeva says that in order to be able to judge a piece, you have to inhabit it first. You need to breathe and love it. I think that the same goes for translating something. First of all, translating is something that suits my personality very much. I enjoy working alone. I like working in a quiet corner on my own, even though I ended up teaching. Of course I don’t know if one can make a living as a translator in Greece. I’m saying this knowing what the statement implies. It’s usually a side occupation. I believe that I would have combined those two aspects. I’d be very pleased if I could make a living just by working as a translator. Unfortunately it’s an unattainable goal. I’ve tried it for a few years, but it was impossible. How many books can a person translate in one year? Four? Five? It’d be impossible. We’d completely lose it. I have a very good time working with words and written text. That is, when I like what I’m translating. Unfortunately it’s not always the case. It’s rather painful and difficult, and by all means a challenge, having to get so close and personal with a text one considers to be problematic. Of course there’s nothing we can do. We can’t intervene. Anyways, I’d say that it’s a job that suits me, mainly because in a way, it’s a beautiful tribute to books. Or rather, to the original text, to be more specific. I don’t know what else to say. I’d like to share a specific detail with you. If someone finds me at home, while I’m working on a book, they always ask how come I don’t listen to music. It’s impossible. I can hear the words. My head is filled with words, so I couldn’t possibly listen to music at the same time. After all, that’s the best part for me. Reading the text, working with the words inside my head… Sometimes, if there’s a difficult passage, I might ask someone to read it, so I can listen to the way the words sound. I think the whole point is being able to click with a text or a language. To understand what it sounds like. And to feel good while doing so. It shouldn’t be a chore. 

Do you get to choose what you’ll translate or is it not always up to you?

No, I usually don’t. That only happened this past year, when I had the pleasure of translating two books that I really believed in and loved. I had a longstanding rapport with those two particular authors. This was the first time a publisher trusted me. They – at long last – trusted the translator’s opinion regarding a text they believe to be worthy of an audience. Or that at least it’s worth the effort to put it out on the market. But otherwise, up until now, looking back at the 20 titles I’ve translated, they’ve always been commissions by publishing houses. Sure, in the case of some of the books that I’ve translated for Exandas, it’s been a more or less common decision between Magda and myself. She used to tell me, because after some time, we became good friends, and she was a very warm and approachable person, who liked to discuss things with her collaborators, and even more so with us translators. She would tell me, “That’s what I’ll be publishing. Which one do you want?”. She would tell me the books she’d publish so to an extent I could state a preference. But I’ve pitched one of the books that she published recently, but still, she didn’t assign it to me.

Let us now discuss translation as a process. What sort of problems do you usually encounter? Or how do you deal with them? Could you give a specific example?

Right. So, there’s a general principle. Here it goes. Even the most “difficult” texts, in terms of translation, those that are extremely dense, or theoretical texts with many references to philosophical terms or to subject matters with which the translator is not familiar, they’re not that hard if they’re well-written. Badly written texts are the most difficult ones. Unfortunately, they do exist and their number is increasing. It’s indicative of how mediocre literature is becoming increasingly popular. I would rather not name names, as I don’t want to sound too snide. But if you check out which books recently won prizes, for instance, when it comes to contemporary authors, and then remind yourself that Céline won that same award a few years back… It’s a chaotic distance. I think that the most tiring and problematic texts to translate are those that are the latest thing in terms of literary trends, books that “exploit” people who can seem alluring to the public, those that can sell a large number of copies, topics that sort of catchy or trendy, and at the end of the day, with the help of a “good” publisher, the occasional not-that-spontaneous raging book review, and a favorable placement in the bookshops’ windows… I mean you know how those things work. It’s not as innocent and pure out there. Thanks to tricks like that, they manage to sell copies and become best-sellers. Those are the most tedious texts in my opinion. Especially for those who really love literature and have somehow developed a kind of intuitive criterion about what’s good literature, how a character is built, which text or which writer has their own personal style, and therefore has no need to “cast their shadow” on the text. Also some writers wrote some good books, but after becoming famous and popular, due to contract obligations and pressing deadlines, they’re bound to produce more books fast, which is sometimes impossible. That’s why we see some really mediocre books by writers who had once written good things. But even those mediocre ones manage to get published. This is the first general principle. Another technical problem… There are some writers, for example, that one would expect to find amongst the established authors of all time, but instead they are now forgotten. There are some authors for which we have little information. This is a major technical issue. One may even have to travel to the author’s country of origin. How can I put this? We may need to fund a trip specifically so we can find out more information about an author from archives or libraries. This can sometimes be an insurmountable technical problem. Otherwise we have to plead with friends and colleagues who live there. “Please spend a day in the BNF library [Bibliothèque nationale de France] looking up everything I need”. We don’t have decent libraries in Greece. This is a very serious issue. And I don’t think that’s about to change any time soon. Not if we carry on with the same policies at our universities, giving out textbooks that are taking up department budgets. I don’t think there are serious intentions to establish modern and up-to-date libraries. I don’t think that will ever change. Not all the answers can be found on the Internet or in Google.

Let us move on to a different topic. Let’s talk about editing. Do you think that editing is necessary? What is the relation between translators and editors?

It certainly is necessary. That’s a given. No matter how many times one combs through a text, some things will have slipped through. It is something that’s inherent in doing this job. Because our attention is so strained, that something, at some point, will slip through. Or sometimes, it makes sense for a more trained eye to check specific notes and remarks. Or, for example, they can point out that it would be good to add a footnote for an element that I thought made sense to a Greek reader, but didn’t, for instance. That is, they can point out some things. A good friend or a colleague can do so too, but it’s always best when done by a professional. I have done some editing myself in the past. As for the relation between translators and editors, I can’t say that there is a shared opinion we’d all agree on. It can go either way. I’ve had bad experiences with editors on some occasions. Once, I got my translation back and the whole text was altered. On that occasion, the publisher had to intervene, and I was then asked to change almost everything back to how it was. Of course that was a lot of unnecessary trouble. But there have been other editors with whom we went along. They made comments rather than delete or drastically change passages, which I think is the best way to go about this kind of work. The ideal way to do this, though I understand that often there’s no time, is for the translator and the editor to work side by side. That is, to get the text corrected with the editor’s notes, work on it, and then the points that are most difficult, tricky or those that require discussion, to have the pleasure of discussing them. To talk about it with someone else. Because translators are solitary creatures that spend so long working on their own, that they don’t often have the pleasure of discussing with fellow professionals. It’s a welcome change to our silent work routine. I mean peace and quiet is all very nice while we work, but at some point, it’s also nice to be able to discuss own thoughts and work. The ideal for me would be to have an opportunity to do a read through of the final text together. If it could be out loud, even better. It’d be nice to read the final text out loud, so we can check what it sounds like. It’d be like a stage rehearsal. I had the pleasure of working like this on the last two books I translated, and I can say that it’s a much more pleasant way to work, and it’s also much more efficient. At the same time, I know it requires a lot more time to do things this way, and within more “industrialized” deadlines, or when time is pressing, it’s a tough ask. I’m just saying what the ideal is for me, having had the experience.

Have you had any criticism for any of your translations? How important, if at all, is criticism for a translator?

Of course it’s important. I was just talking about this yesterday, with your professor, Mrs. Rasidaki. In Greece, translators certainly don’t work to get rich. The idea is risible. The rates are very low, so our main incentive certainly isn’t the money. Let us also mention the difficulties and the struggle that each text requires. Especially the most demanding ones. So we don’t do what we do just for the pleasure of the process, or in order to measure ourselves against a challenge, or to contribute to the reception of X or Y author in our country. I mean that contribution is an incentive but it’s more than that. We do what we do because we want those specific texts that we may have chosen, or anyway, texts that we ‘ve grown fond of and believe in, we want to share them. It takes many long weeks or months before we can actually do so, weeks that we spend working on the text alone. So when we’re done, we need to have some sort of feedback. I don’t know if translators are creators. Actually, we are not… Maybe we’re to a second degree, or rather we’re skilled executors. It’s like after a concert is over. The musicians want to hear the applause. They need to know that the audience enjoyed themselves as they did. That their efforts were not for nothing. I mean, we don’t expect extraordinary praise or anything. But it’s a great joy when one tells us, “I read X in Greek. The flow was great. I enjoyed reading it”. That’s how it is. And sure, there have been many reviews for the books that I happened to have translated. Unfortunately, in many of them, there were zero comments on the translation. Or there may be just one word. “In Mrs. Grammatikopoulou’s fine or correct translation…”. Reviewers are a bit stingy when it comes to comments on translations. Of course, I don’t want to be unfair. In certain book reviews, there have been more specific comments and lengthier reference to my translation. But sure, I will admit it gives me joy to hear that I did the text justice, especially when I have chosen them myself, or when they’re by authors that I believe aren’t as known to the Greek public. Greek readers may not know them. Some aren’t even known to the French speaking readers. In those cases, I feel that I have somehow contributed. I was able to share the pleasure of reading this text with others.

What about the future of translation? Especially in Greece. Are you optimistic? What are your thoughts?

You know how things are. I’m not adding any new information. Ever since the financial crisis started, even the few steps that were taken towards giving translators the possibility to be paid and respected for what they do, so that they don’t need to do a million odd jobs to make ends meet. We took several steps backwards. I am just stating what we all know. I think that reality forces translators… I mean unless they can afford to translate just for the sake of pleasure, as a beloved hobby… It’s not like they have translation as a side-job because it’s not fulfilling, but rather because they can’t make a living out of it. In that respect, we’ve took several steps backwards. And I can’t really see how this could be fixed any time soon. And that’s a pity, because translation studies have come a long way, though that’s not a factor that will lead to more good translators on the job, because studies are not enough. They only provide us with certain skills. In no way can they substitute one’s personal connection to texts, literature, essays or poetry, whatever one chooses to work on. I must admit that it pains me when I see students at the Masters program I teach, I run workshops in literary translation. I see that some students have “it”. They’re very talented, but I don’t know towards where I should direct them. I’d be more than happy to recommend something to them, but is there room for them? Will they come across decent working circumstances, or will someone take advantage of the fact that they are “new” to the field and offer them a pittance, suggesting they should be thankful for the opportunity. It’s unfortunate.

What would you advise a student that wishes to work as a translator?

To read a lot. I’ve asked my students, “How many books do you read per month or per week?”, “Per week! You’re joking, miss”. My advice is for them to read books in the language from which they translate, read other people’s translations, read in Greek. My advice is to read. To increase their engagement with the texts. To not get into this line of work if they do not truly love it, because translation requires huge amounts of patience. Also, I’d say that the profile of a translation professional contains certain elements that are obsessive compulsive. And I dare say it also contains masochism, to a certain extent. Sometimes, I’ll dream of a word and wake up filled with joy that I found it. Of course, that’s not the kind of joy I can share with my friends. I don’t think they’d understand why I’m so glad I dreamt of a word. I wouldn’t go as far as call it a psychosis, but it’s definitely rather obsessive. You need to be this type of person. The type that immerses themselves into texts more than most people. Certainly more than the average reader. I suggest they only go for it if they’re serious about it. I don’t think that endless studying will give them what it takes to do the job. I think that these are the elements that are up to the aspiring translator. Then there’s the part that’s relevant to the working place they’ll turn to, where there should be good will and trust, just like the example I described earlier, with the trust Magda showed me, back when I was 25 years old. If I were to think in a more cunning way and prioritize one’s earning potential, as you can imagine, the most uncommon languages are the ones with the most demand. Therefore, a translator who speaks them is more likely to come across better opportunities. And, of course, something that’s relevant to students of all foreign literatures, is that you can’t learn a foreign language from one’s own country. One needs to be able to spend a good amount of time in the country where they speak the language they’re learning. They need to immerse themselves in the way the language is spoken. Listen to how people of different ages and social backgrounds speak the language, make friends and speak to as many native speakers as possible. You need to be able to make the switch. You know a language when you think in it. It’s difficult to reach the level of being able to think in another language, if all you have is textbooks and in vitro classes. It can’t be done this way. One needs to get in touch with a language and its people.

Thank you very much for this interview.

You’re welcome.