{"id":93811,"date":"2016-01-26T12:19:29","date_gmt":"2016-01-26T17:19:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=93811"},"modified":"2016-01-27T17:04:36","modified_gmt":"2016-01-27T22:04:36","slug":"translating-transtromer-an-interview-with-patty-crane","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/01\/26\/translating-transtromer-an-interview-with-patty-crane\/","title":{"rendered":"Translating Transtr\u00f6mer: An Interview with Patty Crane"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><a href=\"http:\/\/www.sarabandebooks.org\/all-titles\/bright-scythe-selected-poems-by-tomas-transtrmer-translated-by-patricia-crane\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"aligncenter wp-image-93813\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/brightscythe.jpeg\" alt=\"\" width=\"600\" height=\"797\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/brightscythe.jpeg 1000w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/brightscythe-226x300.jpeg 226w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/brightscythe-768x1021.jpeg 768w, https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/01\/brightscythe-771x1024.jpeg 771w\" sizes=\"auto, (min-width: 62.5em) 67vw, 100vw\" \/><\/a><\/p>\n<p><em>In the afterword to <\/em><a href=\"http:\/\/www.sarabandebooks.org\/all-titles\/bright-scythe-selected-poems-by-tomas-transtrmer-translated-by-patricia-crane\" target=\"_blank\">Bright Scythe<\/a><em>, her new translation of Tomas Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s selected poems, Patty Crane tells a fascinating, fatalist story about how she came to translate the late Swedish poet and Nobel Prize recipient. Crane moved with her family to Tumba, Sweden in 2007, after her husband took a job overseas at a paper mill. A year into her relocation, she took a summer residency at Vermont College and began flying back to the United States in order to focus on her writing. One evening she sat next to poet Jean Valentine in a cafeteria, and because Valentine had heard that Crane was living near Stockholm, she asked if Crane might deliver a book to her friend Tomas. A year later, Crane was sitting in Tomas Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s home, speaking to him in Swedish, and beginning to translate his poem \u201cThe Station\u201d into English. A few more years later\u2014and this isn\u2019t part of that fatalist afterword, but it\u2019s part of our story today\u2014a galley of <\/em>Bright Scythe<em> arrived at my studio in the Catskills and the doors that seemed to bar me from Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s work for so many years were blown off their hinges.<\/em><\/p>\n<p><strong>Is it weird for you to think that if even one of these events never took place you and I probably wouldn\u2019t be having this conversation?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>It <em>is<\/em> weird. If it weren\u2019t for a flat bicycle tire, we definitely wouldn\u2019t be having this conversation! That\u2019s how I met my future husband, whose future job brought us to Sweden. I imagine there are events in your own life, maybe even a chance encounter, that led to this exchange we\u2019re having. Turn of events such as the ones I experienced\u2014the move to Sweden, learning the language, re-discovering Transtr\u00f6mer, my chance encounter with Jean, and everything that flowed from that\u2014seem to me to be less about what happens to you in a given set of circumstances and more about what you make happen. I guess I\u2019m talking about opportunity. A door opens and you enter. And look, a new room with more doors. Here I am in Stockholm, taking Swedish-for-Immigrants classes. Here I am reading Transtr\u00f6mer in the original Swedish. Here\u2019s an early draft of my translation of \u201cFrom July \u201990\u201d with Tomas\u2019s faint pencil lines under the word <em>pit<\/em>. And here we are, Danniel, having this conversation. How do I reconcile that? I hope with sufficient gratitude, humility and hard work.\u00a0<!--more--><\/p>\n<p><strong>Now that you\u2019ve published a book of Transtr\u00f6mer translations, has your sense of him as a person changed, and would you say it\u2019s changed you?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I don\u2019t think it\u2019s possible to immerse yourself in <em>anything<\/em> without being changed in some way. While reading Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s work, just before I started translating him, I often felt that he was speaking to me. Not in the direct sense, of course, but through the things and places on which he focused his attention. They\u2019re the kinds of places I like to look, and his way of looking compelled me. But, on another level, the poems felt like a sort of guide map. I didn\u2019t understand this at the time. I say it in hindsight. This past summer I returned to Sweden for the first time since leaving the country in July 2010. At some point while walking around our old neighborhood and visiting my favorite haunts in Stockholm, I became aware that random lines of Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s poetry were scrolling through my head. Whatever triggered them, the collage of words kept coming\u2014sometimes in Swedish, but mostly in English. It was <em>almost<\/em> unconscious. It dawned on me, then, that while I was living there and immersing myself in his poetry, I was simultaneously struggling to find my place in his country, and somewhere along the way those two processes of discovery merged. The poetry became the place, and the place the poetry. My Sweden <em>was<\/em> Transtr\u00f6mer, and vice versa. His work is now part of my psyche.<\/p>\n<p><strong>And what about translation and language?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Prior to Sweden, I\u2019d spent a fair amount of time pondering the challenges and ambiguities of translating poetry. I had no desire at that time to translate, but my experience reading multiple and vastly different English versions of the same handful of Pablo Neruda poems led me to the uneasy conclusion that, since I didn\u2019t know Spanish, I couldn\u2019t with certainty say that I loved Neruda. I could only say that I loved James Wright\u2019s versions of Neruda. The implications of this fascinated and bothered me. How or even whether it impacted my own translation process is hard to say. I don\u2019t think I would have had the confidence to pursue the translations had I not felt comfortable with the language. And the more I think about it, I probably wouldn\u2019t have gone so deeply into them had I not felt a connection to the place itself, meaning the landscape of Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s Sweden.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Not much has been said about the way Transtr\u00f6mer breaks down the walls between past and present. \u201cSometimes my life opened its eyes in the dark,\u201d he writes in \u201cKyrie.\u201d Whenever I read this line, I\u2019m jolted by the verb tense, which softly and forcefully feels like it should be present. What do you make of Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s blurring of past and present?<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I\u2019m immediately reminded of what he said in an interview, conducted about a year before his stroke, when responding to a question about his writing process, specifically concerning the relationship between the interior and exterior landscapes. For him, inspiration is \u201cthe feeling of being in two places at the same time. Or, of being aware that you are in a place that seems very closed but that actually everything is open.\u201d Consider the wonderfully fluid opening lines of \u201cDeep in Europe\u201d\u2014\u201cI a dark hull floating between two floodgates \/ rest in bed at the hotel while the surrounding city wakes.\u201d There he is at the nexus. Whether it\u2019s between sleep and wakefulness or past and present, maybe the blurring comes from the speed with which he moves between these states. And at times it can be jarring, like the surprising verb tense in the first line of \u201cKyrie.\u201d But does <em>the verb<\/em> want to be in the present tense, as you suggest, or do <em>we<\/em> want it to be? The speaker of the poem easily inhabits both time frames. If, instead, the line were to read, \u201cSometimes my life opens its eyes in the dark,\u201d those periods of awareness would seem more in the speaker\u2019s control, as if the eye-opening was a choice. Written in the past, control seems nebulous and the moments of sudden clarity, paired with the sensation of disconnect described in the poem\u2019s next few lines\u2014\u201cA feeling as if crowds moved through the streets \/ in blindness and angst on the way to a miracle, \/ while I, invisible, remain standing still\u201d\u2014suggest a profound loneliness that parallels the child\u2019s deep fear of the dark later in the poem and the relief of daylight after a long, terrifying night. Not a way out of the darkness and angst, so much as a way through. If the poem were to begin in the present tense, the child and the speaker would feel separate. As written, they feel like the same person. And that\u2019s a very different poem.<\/p>\n<p><strong>Your sense of Transtr\u00f6mer as <em>guide<\/em> is among the most vivid experiences of reading <em>Bright Scythe<\/em>, and the archetype of \u201cthe captain\u201d haunts so many of these poems. In \u201cThe Forgotten Captain,\u201d for instance, he says, \u201cY climbed out of his grave after forty years \/ and kept me company.\u201d I love your sense of Transtr\u00f6mer as a poet who holds vigil and sees us through that terror. Do you feel any sense in the poems as to where that way through leads? <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>The way through leads to something like acceptance, including the acceptance of profound uncertainty. Think of the fate of the captain in \u201cThe Forgotten Captain,\u201d who \u201cfinally got to lie down \/ and turn into the horizon,\u201d whose suffering has come to an end and is transformed to the comforting notion of horizon as both a point of vanishing and point of arrival. The effect, for me, is like being on an airplane that\u2019s experiencing disturbingly heavy turbulence, while sitting, white-knuckled, beside a man who is clearly relaxed and reading a book. How reassuring it is to see him calmly reading. How reassuring to watch the captain turn into the horizon, or feel, through one\u2019s entire body, the whispers of a faceless angel telling us that we\u2019re not supposed to be complete, as we do in his poem \u201cRomanesque Arches.\u201d<\/p>\n<p><strong>Robert Bly <\/strong><a href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/interviews\/729\/the-art-of-poetry-no-79-robert-bly\" target=\"_blank\"><strong>said<\/strong><\/a><strong> in his <em>Paris Review<\/em> interview<\/strong><strong> that Transtr\u00f6mer \u201cis closer to some silent energy in the middle of the universe than the rest of us.\u201d He sets Transtr\u00f6mer opposite Michelangelo, whose work seems to say, \u201cI made all this. I am God.\u201d I always feel like Transtr\u00f6mer considers it his job to be attendant to the natural world. What\u2019s your sense of Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s relationship to the world and its energy? Or to put it another way, who does he work for? <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>I love that Bly quote. It\u2019s as accurate a description as any I can think of to explain Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s affinity for the liminal places and the ease with which he moves around in them. Whether it\u2019s between the natural and interior world, his dream life and waking life, or the past and present, his vigilant imagination and deep sensitivity allow him to inhabit multiple planes of being and awareness at once, while his clinical patience allows events to unfold as they will, in a way that renders the borders between them porous.<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019d say Transtr\u00f6mer embodies a deep and abiding connection to the natural world, and that its presence in his poetry is inevitable. \u201cWhat we\u2019re given is a larger, if mysterious and elusive, whole. Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s sense, in moments of inspiration, of being in two places at once, where \u201ceverything is open,\u201d clearly relates to this and speaks directly to his relationship to the world. The writing stems from this relationship, not the other way around. The writing distills and hones it.<\/p>\n<p>Who does he work for? Maybe eternity. Or oblivion, or both.<\/p>\n<p><strong>To hear you talk about who he is in the poems, Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s really a conduit through which energy moves. I\u2019m curious about our impulse to try and pinpoint Transtr\u00f6mer in relationship to the world and its mysteries, which isn\u2019t the case with many poets. Is this what\u2019s ultimately so intriguing about his work, that it helps us reconcile our own place in a world that\u2019s often terrifying, blurry, and fatal? <\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Conduit seems like an excellent word choice. It\u2019s hard not to think of him in this way, and it parallels Bly\u2019s wonderful remark about Transtr\u00f6mer being closer to some silent source of energy at the universe\u2019s core. There are so many examples in the writing that suggest this, such as these lines from \u201cWinter\u2019s Formulas\u201d\u2014\u201cI stand under the starry sky \/ and feel the world crawl \/ in and out of my coat \/ like in an anthill.\u201d And these from \u201cFurther In,\u201d when he\u2019s stuck in traffic and the sun hits his windshield\u2014\u201cI am seen-through \/ and some writing shows up \/ inside of me \/ words in invisible ink \/ that appear \/ when the paper is held over fire.\u201d And these from the final section of <em>Baltics<\/em>, where he writes of his grandmother\u2014\u201cI remember her. I\u2019d nestle up to her \/ and at the moment of death (the moment of crossing-over?) she sent out a thought \/ so that I\u2014a five-year-old\u2014understood what had happened \/ half an hour before they phoned.\u201d Transtr\u00f6mer is a malleable character in his own poems\u2014openness, night sky and anthill, paper held over fire. Again and again he enacts the mysteries of the world while making them tangible enough to grasp, or nearly grasp, thus offering us a way to imagine saying the unsayable, and to hold for a while the un-holdable. \u201cBeauty can only be seen quickly, from the side.\u201d We\u2019re given that glimpse. Does this help us reconcile our own place in the world and is it part of the reason the work will endure? On both counts, I imagine so.<\/p>\n<p><em>Danniel Schoonebeek\u2019s most recent book is\u00a0<\/em>American Barricade.\u00a0<em>His collection\u00a0<\/em>C\u2019est la guerre\u00a0<em>is due out this year.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>In the afterword to Bright Scythe, her new translation of Tomas Transtr\u00f6mer\u2019s selected poems, Patty Crane tells a fascinating, fatalist story about how she came to translate the late Swedish poet and Nobel Prize recipient. Crane moved with her family to Tumba, Sweden in 2007, after her husband took a job overseas at a paper [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":924,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[907],"tags":[20901,20907,1132,19500,4279,20899,20900,7221,165,1492,2982,4276,530],"class_list":["post-93811","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-at-work","tag-bright-scythe","tag-danniel-schoonebeek","tag-interviews","tag-liminal-spaces","tag-nobel-prize","tag-patricia-crane","tag-patty-crane","tag-poems","tag-poetry","tag-stockholm","tag-sweden","tag-tomas-transtromer","tag-translation"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Translating Transtr\u00f6mer: An Interview with Patty 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