David Unger kindly interrupted his holiday to answer these
questions. David’s splendid new book In My Eyes You Are Beautiful has just been
published in English. It is available on Amazon.
Q. Given that there is no translator’s name on the book, I
assume you translated this book into English. Did you incur any problems?
Secondly, why did it take so long to appear in English?
A. Actually, In My Eyes, You Are Beautiful—like all my
novels—was written in English. I left Guatemala when I was four, though I spent
eight summers there living with my grandparents in downtown Guatemala City.
Para mi, eres divina has been published three times in Spanish translation, but
my agent wasn’t able to sell it to an English-language publisher. This begs the
question of why. Either the novel wasn’t up to snuff, or U.S. editors felt
uneasy publishing a novel about an indigenous Mayan girl written by a
“Caucasian” man. Howard Aster, from Canada’s Mosaic Press, loved the novel and
didn’t see a P.C. issue here. I am grateful to him for that, so after 12 years
since I completed the novel, it has finally seen print. I hope that now that it
is in English, perhaps it can be translated into other languages because I feel
the story has both personal and universal appeal.
Q. As both a writer and translator, may I ask your opinion
on the use of A.I.?
A. Oh my, Keith, that’s quite a question! Personally, I
don’t think A.I. can capture the subtleties or nuances that transform good
writing into great writing. I can’t see A.I. composing:
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun.
Coral is far more red than her lips red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
As for translation, again, I would say that the poetry and
the humour would be lost. Last year, Penguin Classics published my
re-translation of Miguel Angel Asturias’s Mr President, which is now in its 4th
edition. I can’t imagine A.I. capturing the richness of this fantastic novel
completed nearly 100 years ago!
Q. You have an extraordinary gift of combining Fiction with
historical events. There seems to be a tradition among Latin American writers.
Could you tell me your early influences?
A. That’s kind of you to say, Keith. All my novels have
taken place during a particular historical moment in Guatemala, whether it be
during the 1930s when a Fascist president sold the soul of the country to the
United Fruit Company or during the armed conflict in Guatemala from the 70s to
the 90’s. I can’t imagine writing a novel without a strong political backdrop.
I think of The Mastermind, which has been translated into ten languages, as
primarily a love story, but it is also a kind of cautionary tale which reveals
that love, friendship and community are impossible when the political and
economic system is corrupt and corrupted. My teachers were Rulfo and Vargas
Llosa, but also Steinbeck, Austen and Joyce.
Q. As I said before, the book marries fictional characters
with historical events. How much research do you have to do to make sure your
work is historically accurate?
A. I did a lot of reading on history and economics in
preparing to write The Price of Escape. I wanted the novel to be a personal
story of an indecisive Jewish man arriving in the port city of Puerto Barrios,
but again with the backdrop of the United Fruit Company and its monomaniacal
stranglehold on Guatemala during the 1930s. The novel is a kind of “what if”
story about my father, but with quite a lot of fabrication and transformation.
My other novels grew out of what I already knew about my birth country—it was
more of a question of figuring out how to tell the stories that I wanted to
tell.
Q. Your characters in the book are extremely real and alive.
Are they completely made up, or are they an amalgam of real people?
Q. Olivia Padilla Xuc was inspired by someone who isn’t
Guatemalan or indigenous. Most of my novels have had male protagonists who were
from a privileged class, and in this novel, I wanted to write about the
indigenous population who, for the most part, have been either ignored,
romanticized or mistreated by those in power. During the Ubico dictatorship of
the 30s and 40s, the Maya were forced into labour because tending to their
families and their crops meant they were idle. This was a crime! Olivia
believes in herself, and because of that, she is able to transform her life
from one of servitude to one of independence and achievement. In many ways, she
developed in unpredictable ways. At times, I felt I had been a kind of Geppetto
and she a Pinocchio-like figure.
Q. I saw on Facebook that you took the marvellous step of
taking the book to schools in Guatemala. Could you briefly tell me the response
of the children?
A. I participated in Guatemala’s FILGUA—its international
book fair last month. F y G Editores published the Spanish version of Sleeping
With the Lights On, and the publisher, Raul Figueroa, arranged for me to visit
a public elementary school nearby. The school had no library, and the fifth and
sixth graders had never seen a writer. They were thrilled to meet me, but to be
honest, I received so much more from them: I was so grateful for their
curiosity, enthusiasm and comments about my little chapter book.
Q. What has been the media response to the book? Has the
right-wing press in Guatemala attacked the book?
A. The novel was first published in Mexico by a PRH imprint
in 2011 and then published in Guatemala in 2014 to coincide with my receiving
Guatemala’s Miguel Angel Asturias’s Literature Prize for lifetime achievement.
The novel has been out of print now for about three years, and Denise
Phe-Funchal, who translated Sleeping With the Lights On, is preparing a new
translation. On several occasions, indigenous Guatemalan women came up to me and
thanked me for telling “their story.” Well, it’s really just one story, but
something touched them and that meant the world to me. I don’t expect the same
reaction to the English edition, but I do hope that the book gets some
coverage. Quien sabe? Maybe a good handful of readers will find that the novel
touched them deeply.
Guatemalan-born David Unger is an award-winning translator and author. His short stories have appeared in several anthologies and literary journals in the United States and abroad.
He has translated
thirteen books, among them works by Teresa Cárdenas, Rigoberta Menchú, Ana
Maria Machado, Silvia Molina Elena Garro, Bárbara Jacobs and Nicanor Parra’s.
He teaches Translation at City College of New York’s graduate M.A. Program and
is the U.S. rep of the Guadalajara International Book Fair. He lives in
Brooklyn.
