“Who needs it? Eyes rolled back, hand planted thickin lemon cake. Sure. Let’s call it lemoncake. She hives and dissolves, an unearthing…” —from Shira Erlichman’s “Nude IV” (Volume 67, issue 1) What’s been inspiring you recently? The On the Calculation of Volume series by Solvej Balle. Reading the first novel was a . . .
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Note: This is an edited transcription of a longer interview, which is available in full here (music by Nicolaas Stulting): Tell us about your relationship to translation, especially between Russian + English. I’ve always been a massive reader and lover of language and words. And once I had even the smallest foothold . . .
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Editor’s note: Upon being invited to participate in our interview series, Morteza Dehghani, translator of Souri Ahmadlou’s poems “2.” and “3.” from Volume 67.1, offered to write the following experimental piece “about the art of translation,” centralized around the questions of what attracts him to a piece, why he translates, and what . . .
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“When we got hungry, it seemed very rude to discuss what kind of food we wanted. It seemed like the height of impoliteness. Wherever we went, there would be food. And the important thing there was the people.” —from Siamak Vossoughi’s “Three Tryers” (Volume 67, issue 1) Tell us about your relationship . . .
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(after Yusef Komunyakaa)A broken machine gunhangs as a wind chime,rat-a-tat-tat, hugginga willow climbed by a toddlerwho keeps singingabout craterswith American eyesthat overflow. —from “Toys in a Field” (Volume 66, issue 1) Tell us about one of the first pieces you wrote.The first I remember, I was likely about six years old. They . . .
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This county town’s famine is faraway, and mooring here is so miserable. Themountains advance from the south, the Yangtze’s gurgle carries up northward. —from 峡江县 (XIAJIANG COUNTY) and 黄金洲 (GOLDEN ISLAND), poems by Zhang Xun, translated by Bijaan Noormohamed (Volume 65, issue 3) Tell us about one of the first pieces you . . .
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Jodi M. Savage (right) and her godmother Sister Christine (left). Tell us about your relationship to writing.I started out writing poetry and short stories. In college, I felt I needed to do something “practical,” so I became an attorney. But I still longed to be a writer. In my late twenties, I . . .
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I was done up in pale powder and period costume, neatly combed and asked to shave. I look totally different, which was exactly the point. He looks weird, like a ghost. Which is funny. It’s been so long and, especially with this goofy getup, I almost don’t recognize him. —from Eric Boyd’s . . .
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Editor’s note: Carl “Taqwaa” Moore, author of “Thank You, Whoever You Are” from our Winter Special issue, is a writer who is currently incarcerated. The carceral communication systems make conducting a more formal interview nearly impossible. After several weeks of correspondence, we were able to achieve both written and phone interviews. Below . . .
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Two middle-aged men before an ancient mapLook for where they are The bronze birds are now rottenCloser to Giacometti—from “In the Exhibition Hall” by Ye Hui, Translated from Chinese by Dong Li (Volume 66, Issue 2) Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.The first full-length book that I have . . .
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