About the compulsion to edit, self-belief and a bold book

^{Aletta and I during our interview at Radio Spannenburg}

A little while ago Aletta and I appeared in a webinar for peers and I was asked about my experience working with her. One of the questions was related to difficult moments in the translation and publication process. I can tell you that, luckily, there weren’t that many. The hardest moment didn’t actually occur until after I had finished translating the book, which is an excellent point to continue my story at. I pick things up where I left off over a year ago, as if I have just written Three pairs of eyes.

The translating was done, the proofreaders had given the necessary recommendations and Aletta had looked over my shoulder with each translation. On top of this, Tryntsje, the publisher, had gone through each individual part. The manuscript was ready for the next phase. I assumed that this final reading round would transpire more or less the same as all the previous rounds, so I was not expecting anything in particular. Oh dear, I could not have been more wrong.

My manuscript was first scrutinized by a corrector. This corrector was extremely serious about her job and did a lot more than what was expected of her. You should know that a corrector looks for spelling mistakes and linguistic errors, corrects clunky sentences, and checks whether the list of contents is complete, the chapters have the right headings and whether all images are in their right location. However, my corrector was overzealous. I could picture her holding a red pen, hair in a tight bun, reading glasses on the tip of her nose, constantly shaking her head and tutting disapprovingly. She was draconic, unforgiving and merciless. She amended quotes, changed tenses and introduced literal interpretations of the text.

I had had my work scrutinized before and therefore was used to this. I have learned not to take criticism of my work personally. In the end it is about rendering a product that is well received. Differences in interpretations and personal preference are part of the game and even the best translator is not immune from making a mistake. However, the sheer number of amendments and the determination she showed in this task, threw me for a loop. I not only felt vulnerable and despondent, but my self-confidence had taken a knock. When I think back to that feeling of discomfort that took hold of me, I feel slightly anxious again. After Aletta and I had made our discontent known to Tryntsje, the corrector was replaced by the publishing house’s inhouse-editor.

This man clearly was more experienced and had, as it would appear, more professional know-how and a better feel for the text. Even so, it still was not clear to me how much weight I should give his amendments. Could I defend my translation? Should I defend my translation? And who’s responsibility was it in the end? Mine or Aletta’s? Aletta and I had never discussed how to deal with an energetic whirlwind who was brimming with confidence and had a strong belief in their own recommendations. Consequently, I did not know how to react and did not know what was expected of me. After initially being overwhelmed by it all, Aletta told me to stand up for myself. And she was right. Every translated word originated inside my head and had been well thought-out before writing them down. I must not forget this. Moreover, I had noticed a few inaccuracies and mistakes in the amendments of this highly-experienced in-house editor, which made me realize that no one is infallible. This last phase of the translation process taught me the importance of defending your translation choices and believing in yourself. After all, self-confidence and self-belief go hand in hand.

After this experience the rest of the process continued without any further incidents. It was predominantly about dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s: correct rendering of Frisian place names, index, bibliography, end notes. Everything had to be in order. The cover and title had to appeal to the Dutch market and needed to be altered. I was asked to give my input, which was taken into consideration by the publisher. In the meantime, we had reached March 2019. We were a little bit behind schedule, but the book would be published before dodenherdenking, the Dutch Remembrance Day, on the 4^th of May. Coincidentally, in March, I attended a seminar at the London Book Fair, where prominent translators advocated for more recognition of their work. Translators live mostly in the shadow of the authors and are hardly known by the general public, with a few exceptions. ‘This must change’, the speakers at that seminar stated. This change should begin with the translator asking if their name could be printed on the front cover of the book, instead of it appearing on the third or fourth page as it usually does. This question needs to be asked to everyone who can influence the answer: publishers, agents, authors. The entire book world needs to wake up and be alerted to the fact that translations do not create themselves. To produce a translation you require expertise, writing skills, endurance, creativity, cultural awareness, linguistic knowledge, empathy, stress resistance, accuracy, autonomy, analytical insight and discipline. Aletta did not mind my request. In fact, being a translator herself she sympathized, so I asked Tryntsje. Her answer was negative, this is not common practice. I was however pleased with the compromise: my name and short bio would appear on the back cover. In any case, it was important that I had asked the question.

^{At least I had asked the question}

At the beginning of May I was at the book launch in the Dutch province of Friesland and was given the opportunity to speak to the public. Tryntsje referred to Het tweede schot as een kloek boek. Which translates to something along the lines of ‘a courageous book’. It had a nice ring to it and her words made me smile. The days surrounding the book launch were special. Aletta and I were interviewed for a local radio station and we walked in a silent procession to Joop’s grave. Uncle Joop was central to my visit and I felt honoured that I was instrumental in bringing him a little bit closer to the residents of Friesland.

If you are interested in reading my first book translation, please click here. For the original edition, please click here.

Three pairs of eyes

Image: Jenny Thomas

Exactly nine months after Aletta had accepted my offer to translate her book, publisher Tryntsje finally contacted me.

The contract between the two publishing houses had been signed and I wondered how I fitted in. Would I get a copy? Did I have to sign anywhere, or would I get my own contract? If so, who would be the other party? Aletta, Noordboek, Ashgrove? I simply didn’t know. According to Aletta I had to wait until I had finished translating part one before Noordboek would confirm my involvement.

The Guidelines for Authors, with considerations for the house style of the publisher’s, and Instructions for the Translator, both of which Tryntsje had sent me, presented no unexpected issues. Her annual leave would start in a few days, while mine would start just as hers ended. We therefore agreed that I would make sure that part one would be in her inbox by the time she returned to work. This gave Aletta ample time to look at my translation and provide me with all the Dutch paperwork I had to incorporate in the manuscript.

The task of finding a proofreader came up again. Susan had done such a great job I decided to approach her once more. I took into account that she could reject my request. The translator normally pays the proofreader from their own pocket, but I lacked sufficient funding and wasn’t in a position to pay her the usual fee. My hunch was right. Moreover, for the next few months she had too much on her plate to accept any new assignments. I had to put Plan B into motion and delve a bit deeper into my professional network. Luck was on my side and I didn’t have to look for long before finding another proofreader. They prefer to stay anonymous and I promised not to mention any names. I can only reveal they are an experienced literary translator on whose expert eye I have leaned for months. I was happy that someone was reading over my shoulder.

In the meantime we swapped Switzerland for a temporary stay in the Netherlands and I intended to translate approximately 500 words a day. That way my regular work wouldn’t suffer and I would still have some time to spare. I was especially looking forward to spending some quality time with my mum and sister. My mum, incidentally, would also read along with my translations. She is an avid reader and I could count on her to immediately notify me when something wasn’t clear. She would instantly spot unnecessarily longwinded sentences. I’ve always had a soft spot for expressing my thoughts in main clauses and subordinate clauses, even though I am aware they are not everyone’s cup of tea, because you can so easily lose the plot once you’ve reached the end of the sentence and cannot remember how it started. But before sending my mum my translations, I wanted Dick, my husband, to have a look at them. Dick is very business-like and to the point. I didn’t always agree with his remarks or his commentary, but they always made me think. Very often it turned out that it would have been better if I had altered the sentences or passage in question, as someone else in a succeeding round would make the same remarks. I now had three people, including the aforementioned professional proofreader, looking over my translations from different perspectives before Aletta saw them. Isn’t that a bit much? you might ask. Well who knows, really. I had no idea. I didn’t feel it was necessary to research what was standard for the industry. I for one, was pleased to have three extra pairs of eyes scrutinizing my writing.

It wasn’t easy trying to find the right balance between a free translation and a literal one. One minute Aletta would encourage me to write more freely, but then the next I would get a slap on the wrist for being too free. This is another sign that translating is very subjective, but it also shows that Aletta had a clear idea of what she expected from the Dutch version of her book. It had to seem like she not only had written the book, but also its counterpart. Rightly, at times I had to swap a word for its synonym or a related word, because this is how the word in question was referred to at her parental home. ‘Mummy’ became ‘mum’ and ‘the mahogany cupboard’ was called ‘the mahogany cupboard’, and not for instance ‘the mahogany cabinet’, ‘the mahogany china cabinet’ or even something else. The most mentally draining stage occurred towards the end when all translating was finished. You can read about this final stage before the manuscript is printed, next time.

If you are interested in reading my first book translation, please click here. For the original edition, please click here.

In the Wings

Aletta and I during an informal working meeting

My previous post ended with Aletta finding a potential publisher who would be willing to release a Dutch edition of her book.

Communication between Aletta and Publishing House Bornmeer | Noordboek quickly took off, and she was given the provisional assurance that her book would be released under the Noordboek imprint, since it addressed a similar readership as the rest of the books under that imprint. The publisher who would be responsible for the task, was revealed to be Tryntsje van der Steege. As it later turned out, she had only joined the publishing house recently. As far as it concerned the publishing of a book, she was a newbie, just like me.

Aletta promised she would send her a copy of Looking for Uncle Joop. In addition, Tryntsje said that eventually she would want a sample of the translation to get an impression of the Dutch text. At that point I had only translated six pages – roughly 2000 words; luckily this turned out to be sufficient. If she felt she needed more excerpts in Dutch, she would let us know.

After scrutinizing my translation for the fifth time, I emailed it to Susan. The agreement was that she would read it as an isolated text. I only sent her the source text (the English original) as a reference. Within a week Susan came back to me:

You managed to capture style and tone of the story. (…) you are heading in the right direction [but] the people who make it print proof so to speak, will always edit your work, no matter how long you have been translating for.

I was pleased with Susan’s response. Especially because I knew that Aletta was impressed by her vast knowledge and experience.

That same week we also received an enthusiastic response from Tryntsje. She liked Aletta’s book and was now keen to read a partial translation. Things became interesting. Everything had to be perfect, because, even though it sounds cheesy, we only had one chance to make a first impression. After a final check and a few minor amendments, I sent Tryntsje a sleek translation, accompanied by my biog. The text was full of smooth, fluent sentences and read beautifully. Would it meet her expectations? It was mid-March 2018. Just a few days later we received the news we had been hoping for:

Thank you for the translated excerpt, which is looking great. We are looking forward to exploring the possibilities to publish a Dutch edition of your family history.

In just over a month Aletta would travel to Friesland, a province situated in the northern part of the Netherlands, to discuss details. As she would also do the negotiating on my behalf, she asked me how long it would take me to translate her book. I hadn’t the slightest idea and found it difficult to give a precise answer. I thus gave her a guestimate of end of the year.

After a period where hardly anything happened, it all kicked off in April. For the very first time Aletta met with our publisher Tryntsje. At that meeting, board members Steven Sterk and Robert Seton were also present. I found it rather strange that Aletta would enter the negotiations by herself, i.e. without Brad, her English publisher. After all, his publishing house owned the rights to her book. According to Aletta however, I needn’t worry. Brad was a man of few words and him saying ‘All good news re the foreign edition’ gave her the green light. The negotiations were in full swing. But until the contracts were signed, Noordboek could still withdraw.

Back in England, Aletta informed me that after sending Tryntjse the first part in translation (the book consists of three parts), Tryntsje would send me instructions to follow, when translating parts two and three of the book. She wanted to make sure that as little as possible corrections would be needed and that the readers would not get the impression they were reading a translation. This seemed obvious to me.

Meanwhile, we were in the middle of May and I became restless. Nothing was set in stone and there were no guarantees; something had to happen to put my mind at ease. Luckily, the long-awaited news came shortly after. The two publishers had reached an agreement and only needed to sign the necessary documents. I was relieved and happy, although my happiness was somewhat subdued. It felt as if I was witnessing the dress rehearsal on stage while waiting in the wings, but simultaneously was expected to play the lead role later. I was hoping things would become meaningful once I had met the publisher and also had a contract. During the intervening time, I continued translating unperturbedly. I had finished Part one. On July 25^th Tryntsje contacted me for the first time – she sent me the guidelines for authors and further instructions. This was exactly nine months after Aletta had accepted my offer to translate her book. The ‘real’ work could begin.

Follow my blog to find out what happens next.

If you are interested in reading my first book translation, please click here. For the original edition, please click here.

The Search for a Dutch Publisher

With author Aletta Stevens at the launch of Het tweede schot

My previous post ended in Aletta’s acceptance of my offer to translate her book. By then it was January 2018 and we had to take the next step. Aletta would inform her publisher Brad, from Ashgrove Publishing that she had found a translator and discuss with him the possibilities for a Dutch edition. After all, the intellectual property rights, which include the translation rights, are owned by the publishing house of the original work and therefore they have to grant permission. Luckily, Brad responded very positively. It would at the very least be possible to distribute an e-book. At this early stage it was still uncertain whether there would ever be a Dutch paperback or even a hardback version of Looking for Uncle Joop.

Aletta and I agreed that we would both try our best to look for a suitable Dutch publisher who would be willing to buy the translation rights. Furthermore, the two of us would visit the London Book Fair and try our luck there. All parties who are in some way or the other involved in the book market are present at this fair. Even though we didn’t have a Dutch publisher yet, we did not let ourselves be deterred. The moment we found one, we had to be ready to act swiftly. The online course on literary translation I mentioned in my previous post was very time-consuming. The several webinars I attended on the same topic were very informative. I had to make sure I was well versed in the subject matter and had a solid understanding of its practices. In the meantime, new details surfaced which Aletta wanted to include in the Dutch edition. She had to think carefully how to add the new information and any additional photographs. We had to assess what we should send the new publisher. My original sample translation might not be considered enough and it needed to be looked over by a fresh pair of eyes. When you spend a lot of time on a text, you no longer detect your own idiosyncrasies and stylistic errors.  

Aletta recommended I send her my English biography (biog), which she subsequently summarised in a few succinct sentences. She would be able to send this biog, which lists relevant qualifications, to Brad. At a later stage the Dutch version would be suitable for the Dutch publisher.

Mid-February I decided to contact Susan Ridder. Susan is a member of the same professional institute Aletta and I belong to. Years ago, I had met her during a weekend workshop. I knew she was a literary translator and was hoping she would closely proofread my translation. I also took the opportunity to ask her about the requirements of a sample translation for a publisher. Susan was quick to respond. She said she was happy to look at my translation, but it probably was not necessary, as publishers usually want to get a feel for the text in Dutch and are not per definition interested whether you have rendered an accurate translation. Susan additionally shared that nowadays Dutch publishing houses are less interested in foreign literature because of dwindling sales. This is especially the case for fiction. She advised us to visit their websites and look at the different categories and genres the publishing houses oversee. That way we could determine if our book would fit their portfolio. Foreign literature should in any case stand out for it to be considered at all. Susan then quoted editor Patricia de Groot from Dutch publishing house Querido, who, during a talk, had spoken about foreign literature and its appeal for publishers. It became clear that we shouldn’t expect to find a suitable publisher without putting in some effort.

As we approached potential publishing houses, we drew their attention to the reviews on the websites of Amazon.co.uk and its Dutch equivalent bol.com, written by the readers of Looking for Uncle Joop. We also included further details about the creation of the book, such as the press release that appeared in the local Frisian newspaper at the time and an article that Aletta had written for a linguistic journal.

After the first rejections, our efforts were rewarded surprisingly sooner than expected. Through a fellow author Aletta learned of Bornmeer | Noordboek, a publishing house located in Friesland, the northern province of the Netherlands, and they had given a positive response. We were one step closer to realizing our dream.

Look out for my next blog post to find out how the story continues.

If you are interested in reading my first book translation, please click here. For the original edition, please click here.

My First Book Translation: Preparations

Uitgeverij Noordboek is verantwoordelijk voor het omslag

It has been a while since my last post. What does this tell me? Do I lack dedication, inspiration, motivation? I don’t think it’s any of the above. I always have plenty of ideas whizzing around in my head to write about. Time is a minor factor, but I believe that the true reason for my lack of action is hesitation, which stems from fear. I am reluctant to write down my thoughts, because I fear that writing them down will reveal them to be rather boring. Hmm. I need to work on overcoming this fear. Not now though. Now I would like to tell you about my latest project: my first book translation *modest cry of joy*, which is something I have dreamt of for a good few years.

Do you prefer reading about my experiences in Dutch? Please click here.

Translating the book was a long process that started in October 2017. I was still living in Switzerland at the time and was a member of a book club of an international nature. We jokingly called ourselves LOGIC, which stands for Ladies of Grace, Intellect and Culture. (Hey, how often do you get to come up with a name if it doesn’t concern your baby?) The ladies in our book club came from all over the world, as did the authors of the books we discussed. In May 2017 I had organised readings with a Dutch author for the international community in Zug and Zurich. The programme, which listed the order of events, featured the cover of Aletta Stevens’s book Looking for Uncle Joop. The primarily non-fictional book was therefore an obvious choice as our next read. The book club meeting was particularly special because we had asked the author to join us via Skype. In the Q and A session that followed it appeared that Aletta would love to see her book published in Dutch as well. Unbeknownst to her, she had planted a seed in my mind and not long after I asked Aletta if I could translate her book. At her request I sent her an annotated sample translation, which was far more elaborate than if I were to produce a commercial translation. I also sent Aletta the final translation of that excerpt, as well as a long list with questions. I wanted her to get a flavour of my translation methods and give her an insight into how I tackled difficulties in the source text. I simply wanted her to know that I was thorough and demonstrate my translation skills. I would like to point out to you that Aletta is originally Dutch, as am I. For the past thirty odd years she has been living in England and is not only a writer, but also an established translator who is far more experienced than I am.

We agreed that Aletta would co-read (can I use this prefix with a verb?) my translations. This was the first time I had translated a literary work of this magnitude and although on the one hand I welcomed the idea, on the other hand I found it slightly daunting. After all, I had to translate her personal experiences and thoughts, her views and perceptions, her words. Aletta also wanted to have the final say over the translation. This didn’t bother me, but in hindsight, now that I have finished the translation and have gone through the entire process of editing and publishing, I can pinpoint exactly how these words inadvertently impacted me. I never felt the translation belonged to me. Sure, it was mine, but I didn’t feel I owned it. And is this odd, I wonder? Perhaps this was the reason that, in a much later phase, I was able to distance myself from any critique on my translation – proofreaders, editors, publisher: I have lost count of the total number of eyes that have seen my text. Ultimately, I didn’t feel emotionally responsible for it. Unintentionally and unwittingly I had become somewhat indifferent. It just happened to me. You should know that for someone who prefers to be in the driver’s seat, this was an unfamiliar and, to say the least, unsettling sensation. But, I have learned from this, and next time I will express these concerns to the author, as this will help to overcome any uneasy feelings.

In January I received Aletta’s reply to my sample translation. I am self-critical, but with Aletta I had met my match. Was I receptive to her criticism? If our cooperation were to be successful, we had to at least get along. I cannot deny that the beginning was difficult. We had to get used to each other. I felt as if I was being treated as a novice. Even though I was certain this wasn’t the case, it still troubled me. I have never said this out loud before. At the same time, it could not have been easy for Aletta to hand over the translation of her brainchild, as she is an excellent translator herself. I also learned that she is a great motivator and extraordinarily generous with her support and knowledge.

It soon however transpired that she was too deeply involved with the source text to act as my mentor. Additionally, it was very time-consuming for her. For both our peace of minds, I decided to look for other possibilities to have my literary translation skills monitored. I submitted a request for a scholarship with the Dutch Expertise Centre for Literary Translation (ELV). Unfortunately, the language pair EN-DU was (and still is) too common and my request was rejected. I consulted colleagues and looked at the possibilities for further personal development. From the onset I dismissed any post graduate courses, as I didn’t see the benefit of a third master’s degree. I was looking for something that would offer more practical experience and followed several webinars on literary translation. Eventually, I chose an online-course from an accredited institute in the Netherlands. The course was especially interesting and I liked the assignments. However, I cannot tell if it made me a significantly better translator. But sometimes the added value is not noticeable in the writing.

I had finished the sample translation and, as I had hoped, Aletta and I had a connection. She appreciated my skills and accepted me to translate her book. This signalled the start of the subsequent phase in my first book translation, which I will discuss next time.

If you are interested in reading my first book translation, please click here. For the original edition, please click here.

Een internationale affaire: dag twee

Image: Katja Starrenburg

Ik ben de volgende ochtend al voor negenen op school om de koelboxen met drankjes op te halen, die ik in mijn ijskast niet kwijt kon. Wat een gesjouw, en het is nu al warm. De bagageruimte is vol met boeken, posters, wegwijsborden en wat dies meer zij. De koelboxen moeten dus op de achterbank. Als ik even later bij het hotel aankom om Gerbrand op te halen, zit hij in de tuin al op me te wachten. De warme ochtendzon wordt gefilterd door de bladeren, waardoor het lijkt alsof de schaduw die over het gras valt, van een patroon is voorzien. Ik wil eigenlijk meteen weer door, maar neem uit beleefdheid plaats op het gietijzeren stoeltje tegenover hem. Ik vraag hem of hij goed geslapen heeft en of hij de kikkers nog heeft horen kwaken. Ik doel hiermee op de avond ervoor toen we op het terras van het hotel nog wat hebben na gepraat en de kikkers hun aanwezigheid luidkeels bekend maakten. Terwijl hij zijn spullen pakt, antwoordt Gerbrand dat hij goed geslapen heeft. Ik waardeer dat hij niet treuzelt. Misschien voelt hij wel aan dat ik op hete kolen zit. Ik ga niet vaak met de auto naar Zürich en wil eventuele ‘verdwaaltijd’ incalculeren. Ja, navigatiesysteem of niet, die dingen zijn niet feilloos. Tot mijn grote verbazing en opluchting rij ik echter in één keer goed. Ha, denk ik, het geluk is vandaag aan mijn zijde.

Eenmaal op de universiteit, stel ik Bakker voor aan het hoofd van de Abteilung Niederlandistik Chris, met wie ik deze tweede lezing modereer. Ik moet Bakker ook nu weer aan zijn lot overlaten. Van mijn groepje vaste vrijwilligers is alleen Jackie er om te helpen. Maar ik ben blij dat een vriendin ook haar hulp heeft aangeboden, evenals een paar studenten. Er is altijd meer te doen dan je denkt. En nog voordat ik kans gezien heb een nette blouse aan te trekken, zie ik de ambassadeur Anne Luwema en haar senior beleidsmedewerker Saskia met Chris praten. Snel glip ik de w.c. in om in de krappe ruimte van schoenen en blouse te verwisselen. Ik kan het niet helpen om, zodra ik de deur op slot heb gedraaid, visioenen te zien. Ik laat van alles in de pot vallen; eerst m’n schoen die uit mijn handen glipt en vervolgens m’n blouse waarvan de mouw net over het randje bungelt, omdat ik het in mijn haast onhandig vastheb. Door die visioenen krijg ik het alleen maar nóg warmer in dat kleine, benauwde hok. Ik stoot mijn elleboog tegen de muur en mijn knie tegen de deur, maar kan gelukkig, met al mijn bezittingen nog droog, de w.c. omgekleed weer verlaten.

De ambassadeur is prettig in de omgang en lijkt me erg sympathiek. Vrijwel meteen zegt ze dat we haar Anne mogen noemen. Na een paar inleidende woorden van Chris, die de aanwezigen welkom heet, geeft hij haar het woord. Ik heb ergens gelezen dat Anne meerdere talen vloeiend spreekt, waaronder het Chinees. Vandaag spreekt ze het publiek in het Engels toe, want er komen ook toehoorders die het Duits nauwelijks spreken of verstaan. Op dat moment wist ik nog niet dat mijn Engelssprekende kennissen verstek zouden laten gaan en dat zich in de zaal voornamelijk Zwitsers zouden bevinden. In haar keurige voorwoord geeft de ambassadeur aan dat het versterken van het imago van Nederland in Zwitserland tot een van de taken van de Nederlandse ambassade behoort. Boeken zijn bij uitstek het middel om de Nederlandse cultuur te verspreiden en Nederlandse auteurs zijn dan ook ideale vertegenwoordigers. Ze vertelt hoe moeilijk het is om het Nederlands binnen de universiteit levend te houden, maar mocht het ondenkbare gebeuren, dan zijn er gelukkig de vertaalde werken nog. Sinds de Frankfurter Buchmesse in 2016, waar Nederlandse en Vlaamse literatuur centraal stonden, is het aantal vertaalde werken vanuit het Nederlands naar het Duits van gemiddeld 85 per jaar naar een verbazingwekkend 454 gestegen! Bakkers boeken dragen bij aan deze stijgende trend.

Het is ongewoon stil in de collegebanken en als later Bakker aan het woord is, blijft de stilte aanhouden. Met hetzelfde gemak waarmee hij de avond tevoren Engels sprak, spreekt hij nu Duits. Een enkele keer zit hij om het juiste woord verlegen, maar zijn Duits klinkt en is beter dan mijn Rudi Carrellduits. Ik heb nooit helemaal begrepen waarom dit altijd zo negatief beoordeeld werd. Mijn leraar Duits op de middelbare school zei, met een haast spottend lachje, na afloop van mijn mondeling examen dat ik het ‘met flair’ sprak. Zou zo het Duits spreken van Carrell ook omschreven kunnen worden? Mmh…

Tijdens deze lezing leest Bakker voor uit Jasper und sein Knecht. Ik vind het moeilijker om gefocust te blijven. Bakker heeft hier gelukkig geen last van. Hij is weer één met de zaal. Hij luistert belangstellend naar de vragen en geeft de mensen waar ze voor gekomen zijn. Net als de ambassadeur staat ook híj even stil bij de vertalingen van zijn boeken en wijst op een paar buitenlandse titels op het geprojecteerde scherm achter hem. Blij dat ‘mijn vrijwilligers’ zo een mooie collage gemaakt hebben.

De ambassadeur heeft ons na afloop van de lezing uitgenodigd. Chris heeft op loopafstand een gezellig restaurantje aanbevolen. De lunch wordt tot twee uur geserveerd en we moeten ons haasten om voor die tijd aan te komen. Dat lukt maar voor de helft van ons gezelschap. Terwijl Gerbrand boeken aan het signeren is, zijn Jackie en ik alvast aan het opruimen. Met zijn drieën arriveren we zeker een kwartier later. Het personeel is niet bepaald blij met onze late aankomst en is ietwat stug en terughoudend in de bediening. De Zwitsers met hun gekke regeltjes: lunch tot twee uur! Het verbaast me dat ze vandaag geen Ruhetag hebben.

Ik neem nu pas de tijd om Anne eens goed in me op te nemen. Ze heeft haar jasje uitgedaan. Ik verwonder me in alle stilte over haar kledingkeuze: haar truitje, broek en schoenen hebben alle dezelfde kakikleur, niet spannend, een beetje saai zelfs. Zelfs haar haarkleur matcht. Dit alles in schril contrast met haar levendige persoonlijkheid. De lunch is overigens aangenaam. Er wordt over koetjes en kalfjes gesproken. Er wordt gelachen.

Ik kan niet voor de anderen spreken, maar ik ben blij dat het allemaal achter de rug is. De weken voorafgaand aan het bezoek zijn intensief geweest, vermoeiend, maar bevredigend. Op bescheiden wijze heb ik de naam van Gerbrand Bakker een beetje verder verspreid onder de Zwitsers en de expatgemeenschap in de kantons Zürich, Zug en Luzern. Ik ben de sponsors dankbaar voor hun steun en vertrouwen in mij. De bezoekers ben ik niet minder dank verschuldigd en Gerbrand natuurlijk. De twee dagen dat ik gastvrouw heb gespeeld, heb ik hem van nabij mee mogen maken. Tijdens het lezen van Jasper vond ik zijn oprechtheid en openheid een beetje overweldigend. Zo intiem en persoonlijk. Maar, zo is hij. Hij heeft er geen moeite mee zijn ziel bloot te leggen en zijn diepste gedachtes voor iedereen toegankelijk te maken. Het kan natuurlijk ook zijn dat hij exact beheerst waar hij ons als lezer deelgenoot van maakt en dat is zijn goed recht. Hoe dan ook, ik heb van zijn bezoek aan Zwitserland genoten en kan na afloop alleen maar zuchten: wat een heerlijke man is dat toch.

 

Nu op vakantie!

Een internationale affaire

Na de workshop hebben we slechts anderhalf uur voordat de avondlezing begint. Rekening houdend met de beperkte tijd en met het feit dat door een dubbele boeking de zaal pas laat ingericht kan worden, vertel ik Bakker dat we met de vrijwilligers die komen helpen, afhaalpizza eten. Snel, gemakkelijk en vooral stressvrij. En plots zijn ze daar: de mensen met hun goed bedoelde adviezen en suggesties. Ik zucht onhoorbaar en hoor alle adviezen instemmend aan. Ineens is het niet meer zo vanzelfsprekend dat we straks pizza uit de doos zullen eten en meegebrachte Hugo zullen drinken. Als er te elfder ure van alles wordt veranderd, wordt het nog een rommelig zooitje. Ik laat me dan ook niet op andere gedachten brengen. Al tijdens het eten wordt er haastig geïmproviseerd bij het indelen van de zaal. Zelfs de principal van de high school steekt letterlijk de armen uit de mouwen. Erg dankbaar ben ik hem. Ik ben tevreden met het eindresultaat. Op het podium staan een tweepersoonsbankje en hoge tafel met daarop twee glazen en een anderhalveliterfles water.

Het bevalt de vrijwilligers prima om met elkaar en de eerste binnendruppelende bezoekers te keuvelen. Is natuurlijk wel gezellig! Het zou nu verdraaid goed uitkomen als ik me op kon splitsen. Ik ren van hot naar her om ervoor te zorgen dat alles vlot verloopt: bezoekers welkom heten, zorgen dat hun iets te drinken en een klein hapje te eten wordt aangeboden, de kaart- en boekenverkoop regelen. Om Bakker hoef ik me gelukkig niet te bekommeren. Ik zie uit mijn ooghoeken dat hij buiten een sigaretje zit te roken en aan gezelschap ontbreekt het hem niet. Hij zit dan weer met de een en dan weer met de ander te praten. Ook met mijn oudste dochter Georgetien. Ik ben benieuwd waar ze het over hebben.

En dan is het zover. De lezing gaat beginnen. Vreemd genoeg vallen de zenuwen mee. Ik ben zelfs een beetje in een jubelstemming. Ik ben blij. Ik bevind me op bekend terrein en zie veel vertrouwde gezichten in de zaal. Dit heeft een kalmerend effect. Er zijn veel Nederlanders, maar ook veel Engelsen, een paar Amerikanen en een handjevol geïnteresseerden uit landen als Azië, Brazilië en Australië. (Haha, dat loopt lekker: Azië, Brazilië, Australië.) Ik begin met een korte introductie van Bakker voor diegenen die hem niet kennen en som hem in één zin op:

Gerbrand is a qualified professional gardener, has worked as a subtitler, has been a successful speed skater and trainer, started his writing career with an etymological dictionary for children, is columnist for a Dutch newspaper, loves nature, loves dogs and, by his own admission, wears Calvin Klein underwear.

De oplettende lezer en Bakkerkenner ziet ongetwijfeld meteen wat er niet klopt aan mijn opsomming. Gerbrand draagt helemaal geen Calvin Klein ondergoed! Met opgetrokken wenkbrauwen en een licht verontwaardigde blik in zijn ogen kijkt hij mij aan als ik vraag of ik hem correct opgesomd heb. Op dat moment was ik echt overtuigd van mijn gelijk. Ik had het immers in Jasper en zijn knecht gelezen en vraag de zaal om bijval. Nodeloos te zeggen dat deze bijval niet komt. Gerbrand draagt Aussiebum. Ik heb ongetwijfeld zijn zucht om jarenlang hetzelfde geurtje van Calvin Klein te dragen verward met zijn zucht om jarenlang hetzelfde ondergoed van Aussibum te dragen. Mijn geheugen heeft me in de steek gelaten. Sinds ik de vijftig gepasseerd ben, schuif ik alles op de naderende ouderdom die me met open armen toelacht.

Bakker leest voor uit The Twin. Er komen kritische en toch ook wel indringende vragen uit het publiek. Over zijn depressiviteit, over het wel of niet schrijven van nog een boek, over zijn schrijfproces. Hij antwoordt echter openhartig en zonder gêne, soms ook laconiek. Ik kan me evenwel niet aan de indruk onttrekken dat hij in zijn onverschilligheid een of twee keer, alhoewel aarzelend, een antwoord eruit flapt. Maar terwijl hij dat doet, blijft hij over de vraag doordenken. Zijn onverschilligheid krijgt zo dus toch diepgang. Gerbrand is een nuchter mens, een mooi mens, zonder kapsones of poeha. Na afloop van de lezing luistert hij nauwgezet naar de namen die hij bij het signeren van de boeken voorin moet schrijven. Het is een lange dag voor Gerbrand en toch gaat hij onvermoeid door.

 

In mijn volgende blog beschrijf ik de laatste dag van Bakkers bezoek.

De schrijver zonder hoed

Als de deuren op Zürich Flughafen opengaan, kijk ik gespannen toe. Zit m’n haar wel goed, is de jurk die ik aan heb netjes genoeg? Als je iemand voor het eerst ontmoet, wil je er toch op zijn best uitzien. Het maakt dan niet uit of het om een volslagen vreemde of om Gerbrand Bakker gaat, die, alhoewel ik hem al wel eerder ontmoet heb, toch een vreemde voor mij is.

Daags tevoren had ik het noodzakelijke uitgezocht en de vereiste voorbereidingen getroffen. Ik had getankt, wist welke parkeergarage ik het beste kon nemen, welke vlucht Bakker had en hoe laat en op welke terminal hij aan zou komen. Wat kon er nu nog mis gaan? Bakkers vlucht was vertraagd. Ik heb echter meer dan eens meegemaakt dat het vliegtuig ondanks de aangekondigde vertraging toch nog op tijd landde. Ik nam dus het zekere voor het onzekere en vertrok ruim van tevoren. De verwachte file op weg naar het vliegveld stond er niet en bij aankomst was het vliegtuig nog steeds vertraagd. Ik was te vroeg, veel te vroeg, maar vond dat niet erg. Ik heb wat rondgelopen en wat gelezen en hield ondertussen het aankomstbord nauwlettend in de gaten. Drie rondjes lopen en twee hoofdstukken verder, liet het bord zien dat het vliegtuig uit Amsterdam geland was. Ook al had ik vanwaar ik zat, een goed zicht op alle passagiers die door de schuifdeuren naar buiten kwamen, het leek mij beter om wat dichterbij te gaan staan, zodat ik Bakker zeker niet kon missen. Ik ging ervan uit dat hij alleen handbagage bij zich zou hebben. Het moest nu dan ongeveer nog een kwartier duren. Ik hoop dat ik hem (nog) herken. Het is alweer zeven maanden geleden sinds ik hem gezien heb. En foto’s kunnen bedriegen. Wat heeft Bakker toch veel lookalikes. Mijn hart heeft al twee keer een sprongetje gemaakt, omdat ik dacht dat ik hem zag. Oe, een man met een hoed. Is Bakker een hoedendrager? Hm, een schrijver met een hoed. Het zou kunnen. Mijn gedachten dwalen af, maar dan gaat m’n telefoon. Jeetjemina, het is Bakker aan de andere kant. ‘Ben je er al?’ vraag ik. ‘Nou ál?’ bromt hij. Hij klinkt nors. ‘Het vliegtuig had vertraging en…’ Wat hij nog meer zei, dat heb ik niet verstaan. Ik keek om me heen om te zien of hij dan toch ongezien langs me heen geglipt was. Misschien toen ik over die schrijver met die hoed aan het dagdromen was. Maar nee, Bakker stond in Aankomsthal 1 en ik in 2. Nee toch Meritha, hoe is dat nu weer mogelijk! ‘Blijf waar je bent, ik kom eraan.’ Het kan niet meer dan vijf minuten geduurd hebben toen ik Bakker in het oog kreeg. Hij zat rustig op zijn telefoon te kijken, nota bene zonder hoed. Dat hij daar zo geduldig zat, stelde mij op de een of andere manier gerust. Ik hoopte alleen dat dit onverwachte begin geen voorbode zou zijn voor de rest van zijn verblijf.

Ik was wat nerveus, maar had geen tijd om hier lang bij stil te staan. Ik moest de komende twee dagen gastvrouw spelen en een succes van zijn bezoek maken. Bakker was bedaard, kalm. Hij zei niet veel. Ik geloof dat ik in tegenstelling tot zijn zwijgen, aan een stuk door heb gesproken. Ja, misschien praat ik wel veel.

Het was inmiddels lunchtijd geworden en we besloten meteen door te rijden naar een lokaal restaurantje waar ik een tafel had gereserveerd. De keuken is aardig: ze serveren een mix van Franse en Zwitserse gerechten, maar laten zich af en toe ook door de Aziatische keuken inspireren. Ik vind echter vooral de sfeer die er hangt bijzonder prettig, en nu met het mooie weer is het terras geopend en kun je tussen de jonge kastanjebomen en onder de nieuwe, vrolijk gestreepte parasols heerlijk zitten.

Annelies vergezelde ons tijdens de lunch, zodat meteen doorgesproken kon worden hoe de workshop later zou verlopen. Annelies is de docent op de Nederlandse school die verbonden is aan ISZL, de Internationale School van Zug en Luzern. Bakker had me maanden geleden toevertrouwd dat hij een beetje schrok van de woorden ‘school’ en ‘kinderen’, omdat hij dat eigenlijk ‘nooit doet’. Ik wist niet hoe ik hem gerust kon stellen, anders dan te zeggen dat het eigenlijk om jonge volwassenen ging. Zijn ‘bekentenis’ spookte echter de hele tijd door mijn hoofd, maar later zal blijken dat ik me zorgen maakte om niets.

Bakker houdt van een sigaretje en een wit wijntje. En het deed me deugd hem ontspannen met Annelies te zien praten. Na de lunch heb ik hem bij zijn hotel afgezet, zodat hij nog zo een anderhalf uur voor zichzelf had voordat ik hem weer zou ophalen. Het hotel ligt prachtig aan het Meer van Zug. Maar de dromerige omschrijving die op de website te vinden is, is wat mij betreft al voldoende reden om hier te overnachten:

Es sind oft die winzigen Dinge, die den grossen Unterschied ausmachen. Die Liebe zum Detail, ein unkompliziertes aber stilvolles Ambiente, ein Hauch mehr Freundlichkeit und Zuvorkommenheit […]

Nicht was wir machen ist wichtig, sondern für wen wir es machen dürfen, ist das A und O. Sind Sie als unsere Gäste begeistert, sind auch wir zufrieden und glücklich. Somit wird die Arbeit zur Motivation und macht überaus viel Freude, die wir Ihnen liebe Gäste auf eine unbeschwerte Art wieder zurückgeben können.

[Lassen Sie sich verwöhnen] beim Pavillon mit einem herrlichen Panorama auf See und Berge, dem romantischen Plätschern des Wassers am Seerosenteich und der Schatten spendenden Pergola.
Oder geniessen Sie das Outdoor Couch-Feeling in den gemütlichen Sitzgruppen der Lounge, umgeben von Natur pur.

Prachtig toch!

Vier uur, en ik sta beneden in de lobby van het hotel. Ik hoef niet lang te wachten. Bakker komt met een frisgestreken overhemd de trap afgelopen. Oe, denk ik, netjes. En tegelijkertijd flitst het even door mijn hoofd dat ik me misschien ook om had moeten kleden. Ik heb daar totaal niet bij stilgestaan. Maar, net zo snel als de gedachte door mijn hoofd flitst, flitst hij er gelukkig ook weer uit. We boffen met het weer. Het is warm en helder. Ik ben in controle en ben blij dat het weer geen spelbreker is. In een mum van tijd komen we op ISZL aan, waar de workshop en later ook de eerste lezing gehouden zal worden. Annelies en de leerlingen zitten al in het lokaal als wij om half vijf naar binnen stappen. Hѐhѐ, ik kan even gas terugnemen. Voor het komende anderhalf uur staat zij

Image by: Robert Schneider

aan het roer. Annelies doet het leuk. Het boek dat tijdens de workshop centraal staat, is Perenbomen bloeien wit. Om de sfeer van het boek in de klas te brengen, heeft Annelies op een scherm een grote bloeiende perenboom geprojecteerd. Bovendien hebben de leerlingen zelfgebakken perentaart en West-Friese krentenmik meegebracht.

Bakker neemt voor de klas achter een schooltafel plaats. Hij zit ontspannen, benen gekruist, handen in elkaar gevouwen, ellebogen gespreid. Na een voorstellingsrondje laat elke leerling een voorwerp zien dat een persoonlijke betekenis voor ze heeft en op de een of andere manier gerelateerd is aan het boek. Bakker speelt hier heel aardig op in. Hij stelt de leerlingen vragen en geeft aan hoe híj het verband tussen het meegebrachte voorwerp en het boek ziet. Zo spreekt hij bijvoorbeeld over een metaforische vergelijking bij de dode roos van de ene leerling en het flesje water van de andere. De leerlingen zijn duidelijk onder de indruk van hem en het is dan ook niet verwonderlijk dat ze de hele workshop aan zijn lippen hangen.

De pauze wordt gebruikt om de zelfgebakken perentaart en krentenmik te verorberen. Hierna wordt de workshop weer hervat met een door een leerling gemaakte Kahootquiz. Hilariteit alom.

Achteraf vertelt Annelies dat Bakkers bezoek voor haar en haar leerlingen het hoogtepunt van het schooljaar is geweest.

 

In de volgende posts schrijf ik over de twee lezingen en de lunch met de Nederlandse ambassadeur in Zürich.

No More Planning

Image: Fons Heijnsbroek via Flickr

My husband and I were very lucky when I fell pregnant at a time that fitted our lives. We had planned this. We had been together for thirteen years, married for eight, had both worked at our careers and were enjoying the fruits of our labour. We were ready for the next phase.

Looking back now at all the plans I have made over the years and all the planning I have done, nothing else turned out as I hoped for.

We’ve all been asked at some point or another in our lives: ‘Where do you see yourself five, ten or fifteen years from now?’ Not once did I say that I saw myself living in England or Switzerland teaching and translating, married to a husband who spends most of his working days in different countries, with two girls whose education cost us an arm and a leg.

About two years ago I set up my blog with the purpose of reinventing the ‘professional me’. Enthusiastic and full of energy I outlined how I was going to rejuvenate my career. But then summer happened, extra assignments, online students and a teaching job at the University of Basel. All the plans I had carefully set out fell through. Or as the Dutch put it so succinctly: Mijn plannen vielen in duigen.

As a result I have stopped planning and, as I was engulfed by work, had little to report. When I say planning, I actually mean long term planning. I still believe in short term planning – up to a year – and I still have hopes and dreams. But that’s about it. From now on I mostly let things happen and take the days as they come.

An example of an unplanned occurrence is the visit to Switzerland of one of Holland’s most well-known and prize winning authors Gerbrand Bakker, which I organized. I had met Bakker for the second time in October last year at the Literary Festival in Zofingen, where he was reading from his latest book Jasper en zijn knecht, which translates into ‘Jasper and his Servant’. After the reading I went up to him and spontaneously asked him if he would consider coming to Zug. I must have sounded quite forceful, as when I said I’d be in touch, he replied: “That sounds like a threat”. Actually, my only thought at the time was: “Ooh, this would be nice for my book club!” However, I soon realised I had to make another trip to Switzerland worthwhile for him. This is how a modest invitation to a book club of five members turned into a bigger project.

Dutch readers can read about Bakker’s visit in my next two blog posts.

Part 1: My Twitter Tribulations

Image: Bon Barry via Flickr

I am a couple of months into my reinvention and I still find the whole process rather daunting. There is no one to tell me if what I’m doing is right, or even wrong. No one to pat me on the back, tell me off for being late with my next blog post, or even to check up on me to see if I’m sticking to the targets I’ve set myself. Yes, I get it… welcome to the real world; you’re not in high school anymore. I know, but don’t we all, every now and then, wish for a simple life, where we can leave all the thinking and decision-making to the grown-ups, where we have no bills to pay and the biggest worry for the day is what to wear. Sometimes I get disheartened and wonder if it’s all going to be worth it. Luckily I also have this tiny voice within me that’s saying ‘Don’t give up!’ I refocus and concentrate on what I enjoy most: writing. Somehow, when I trust my thoughts to the paper, it doesn’t seem so bad.

So far I’ve described how I started blogging. The next marketing tool I would like to talk about is Twitter. There is plenty of information on this available and there are not enough hours in the day to go through the enormous mountain of useful advice, suggestions and tips and tricks that are on offer.

In her blog post ‘The Art of Twitter’, Kari Koonin gives a lot of do’s and don’ts about Twitter. Phew… I still have masses to learn, much to do and a long way to go.

When I compare myself to other colleagues, their professional profiles seem so complete. And then, look at me and take for instance Twitter: having a Twitter account and knowing how to tweet simply isn’t enough. It frightens me how little I seem to know about Twitter and how much every other twitterer does know. What puzzles me the most at this moment is how to read all the tweets of the different people I follow (and at present I only follow a handful). Do I log into my own Twitter account every day? But if I do so, I see a jumble of tweets, the majority of which I do not even find interesting. Or perhaps I need to look at the different people I follow separately? Should I follow topics with hashtags? These are questions I need to find the answer to.

One of the first changes I made to spruce up my professional profile was creating a business Twitter account. The personal account I set up before didn’t necessarily cry out ‘Look at me, I’m a professional’. Its origin stems from the time I was taking the Translation course at UCL. We were all urged to create a Twitter account during, I believe, our Computer Science lessons. So eventually I did, however, still none the wiser of its benefits. I do like my picture though. In it I’m proudly showing off my Zürich marathon medal with my running group the Hölgrotten Harriers. I love running. Nevertheless, if I wanted to achieve a consistently professional look and approach, I had to create another Twitter account and choose a picture that depicts a more mindful side of me. This was the easy part. I meant business and felt that I at least had to do a little bit of research to understand this new world I was entering. The Free Dictionary gives basic information about Twitter and has a link to learn more about ‘Twitterese’, which is Twitter vocabulary. You will find a more detailed list of Twitter lingo in the Twitter Glossary.

I would like to highlight the symbol #, the hash symbol, as this symbol recently has seen a shift in meaning and use, which do not seem to have been picked up by any of the reference books or glossaries. The majority of us are mostly familiar with its use on social networking sites such as Twitter. The combination of the # symbol and any word or phrase that immediately follows it, is called a hashtag. A hashtag will identify other Tweets containing the same keyword or topic. However, more and more we see that this symbol is used to express emotion, drama or tone. Hashtag has recently been crowned word of the year by under-13s in the UK. Youngsters increasingly use hashtags not only when writing, but also when speaking. The following example is taken from an Instagram screen shot, which pictures my daughter and some of her peers in grade 9 (14 and 15 year olds) when they are clearly suffering on their international award expedition:

The hate in our faces is real [cow emoji] #cowsarethreatening #soareelectricwires #canwenotgetlostagain #hiking #wilderness #nature #vscocam #tagsforlikes

Are the hash symbols really necessary to understand the message the sender wants to put across? I can only assume the first three hashtags emphasise their frustration and dislike on one hand, and call for humour on the other hand. The other ones are used to identify a topic or get more likes on their photo. I can see this.

Some of the tweets I come across on Twitter are a lot more cryptic though.

• Financial tips for freelance translators. #xl8 #t9n Read it at [name website]
• “The only bad technology is badly used #technology” says bigcitymartin #cioltech #xl8 #t8n #1nt
• #l10n #9tn statistics at #sdlroadshow #clui

I’ve barely scratched the surface of all I want to share about Twitter, but I’ve reached the number of words I want to write. In my next blog post I will delve deeper into Twitter and get more practical.