10 Questions for Lisa Schantl
- By Franchesca Viaud
Courtesy of Lena Baloch
“hello”
i say to my reflection.
at the level of spittelau i see it. my reflection.
recognize it, but not myself in it.
these are days on which i believe i’ve forgotten how to walk.
on the way back from heiligenstadt i put one foot in front of the
other, but it feels so ridiculous that i stop every few meters to watch
other people taking their steps.
—translated from Maë Schwinghammer's "Hello," Volume 65, Issue 1 (Spring 2024)
Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.
I remember that it was a gray and heavy winter day, packed with dust and gloom and the occasional flickering streetlamp, and I had the shared student apartment to myself. A few days ago, I had picked up the latest issue of the Austrian literary magazine Lichtungen, no. 160. Leafing through the issue, my attention was captured by one short prose piece, contributed by the at that time emerging Austrian writer Mercedes Spannagel. The language of that piece had a certain flavor, evanescent, spirited, careless, and at the same time precise with innovative currents. Then a graduate student of English and American Studies, I wondered how such a specific voice would sound in the English language, and the next thing I remember is sitting at my desk and working through the piece sentence after sentence, word after word. I annotated every line and paragraph with utmost care, afraid to lose the essence, torn between transformation and preserving. The text contained more puns than I had grasped in my first read, and also more experiments with German syntax and structure. But the piece’s rhythm was vibrating within me already, and in one sitting I drafted the first rough translation of it in English. It was then that a wave of excitement at the power of translation hit me. This was the first text I translated out of pure curiosity, outside of the university setting, not working towards a grade but for the sole pleasure of creating a same but different idea with nothing but words. I let it rest for a couple of days, adjusted the draft here and there, and without overthinking it further sent it to the editors at Asymptote, a magazine I deeply cherish for its transcultural global mindset and aesthetic online presence. I could not believe my inbox when an acceptance letter popped up a few weeks (or probably months) later. My first translation had made it—into an international magazine, and into my heart, manifesting there as a love for the practice of language puzzle solving that has not faded for one degree since then. You can find my translation of this text as well as the original here.
What writer(s) or works have influenced the way you write now?
Working between languages, moving back and forth between English and German, it’s hard for me to break it down to a few writers. I draw to Margaret Atwood for her wit and critical mind, to Amanda Moore for her natural imagery and mastery of personal metaphor, to Richard Powers for his macro-structural genius, to Victoria Chang for her subtle heaviness and stinging clarity, to Monika Helfer for saying how it is, and to Akwaeke Emezi for the braveness it takes to narrate what motivates us with the voices that resonate within us. I would not go as far as to claim their influence, I merely dare to state them as my inspirations and as signposts for the many words by the many writers—emerging and acclaimed—who I have had the chance to read or engage with to this day.
What other professions have you worked in?
Literary translation and translation for the arts is only one of my three—or possibly more—occupations. I worked as an assistant at a publishing house, later at an art institute, and am currently earning my livelihood at an academic language center. Since little more than a year, I have the opportunity to research one of my most passionate topics there as well: translingual writing. This topic has accompanied me for many years now, first and foremost in my role as the founder and editor-in-chief of the literary magazine Tint Journal which focuses on writers who create their creative work in English as their second language. So, there’s already four pillars on which my life rests, and without the intersections of which I would certainly miss something important.
What did you want to be when you were young?
A musical actress, not kidding. Starting at the age of four, I participated in singing classes, dance workshops, after-school music lessons, played the flute, then the clarinet, then the piano, and most of all loved to sing. My path was literally screaming ‘musical career ahead’. I acted in kids’ musicals, various operettas and joined a group staging musicals in the local area. Then, at the age of 17, my wish shattered into tiny pieces when I realized that to really make it as a professional in the musical world, I would have had to be prepared to wrestle in competitions with pop stars and dancing queens. Switching my attunement to my other great passion, writing, it didn’t take me long to realize that no matter which creative practice you choose, competition would be ingrained in its fabrics. Yet, I’ve always had an easier time training my brain than my body, so I stuck with the pen rather than the microphone.
What drew you to write a translation of this piece in particular?
I discovered this piece by Maë Schwinghammer in quite a similar fashion as the text I described in the first question: At a get-together of literary magazine editors, I learned about the Swiss magazine Das Narr, and was browsing through their narrow pages, which have not just an unusual format but also a very unique tactile quality, when, similar to Spannagel’s text, Maë Schwinghammer’s “hallo” stood out to me. It convinced me immediately because of its uncommon type of narration, its plays with language, sound, identity and character. The piece intrigued me, puzzled me, and I did not grasp its meaning in its entirety when I first read it and even after hours and hours of dissecting the text, I am not quite sure whether there isn’t one more layer hiding between the letters. Again, it was the challenge of finding that fine line between transformation and preserving that spoke to me, and I could not resist but see word for word which idioms to preserve, which words to transform and which sounds to keep. I have also had the opportunity to translate the first chapter of Maë Schwinghammer’s first poetry collection, which can be found here and for which I am entirely grateful to the author.
Is there a city or place, real or imagined, that influences your writing?
I would not say that this place influences my writing, but it certainly anchors me in the process of writing. It’s a beautiful, restorative, tranquil and inspirational spot along the Pacific West Coast Trail on Vancouver Island, Canada, hidden in the shadows of ancient trees, nestled in lush green moss and ferns, overlooking a spot of the Pacific Ocean where the waves crash against the rocks, the air vibrating with sea breeze and bird cry. I came across this most magical place during my six-week solo journey through Western USA and Canada six years ago, and the image has stayed on my mind with all its scents, sounds, and textures. There was a bench at this spot, facing the sea, the vision prevented from falling off the cliff by a wooden rail, and whenever I feel that my writing is falling off, lacking core or imagery, I think myself back to this piece of land and listen to the waves rushing ashore.
Is there any specific music that aids you through the writing or editing process?
Often, music would be too distracting for me, it would drown out the sounds of the words, wash over the rhythm of the text. I have the habit of reading my writing as well as translations out loud, often alongside the original, to check whether I am doing justice to the sound patterns and structures of the original text. If I listen to music, it’s during proofreading, when I focus on the microscopic aspects such as punctuation and typos, and then it’s usually soft, instrumental electronic beats.
Do you have any rituals or traditions that you do in order to write?
I am not very good with traditions, and I tend to be most active in terms of writing when my life is swept up by change. I try to keep a daily practice journal, though, with pre-made prompts that I respond to before going to work. The focus is on trying, however—it’s been the same journal for five years and I haven’t managed to complete all prompts.
If you could work in another art form what would it be?
If the question would be which other art form I’d like to practice, it would be music, without a doubt. I still love to play the clarinet or the piano, but the musical career has lost its glitter for me. I have always had an interest in photography, mainly documentary or wildlife photography, and as a passionate hiker and nature dweller, I could see myself following rare species into the forests, eager for the one shot that would bring their uniqueness to the attention of the public. But I doubt I would have the patience to wait for this one shot when life continues to revolve around me.
What are you reading right now?
Earlier today, I finished The Yield by Tara June Winch, a phenomenal journey into the Aboriginal realities of Australia and on top of it an innovative novel as it reconstructs a dictionary of the Wiradjuri language from a fictional and historical perspective. Still on my nightstand is the poetry collection im ländchen sommer / im winter zur see by Judith Zander who, amongst other great things, translated work by Sylvia Plath into German for which I admire her deeply. On my desk, there’s a couple of un/half-read New Yorker magazines, and the next longer prose work I am most likely going to pay attention to is Your Driver Is Waiting by Priya Guns, a take-away from last year’s Frankfurt Bookfair.
LISA SCHANTL is the founder and editor-in-chief of Tint Journal and a project assistant at the Institute for Art in Public Space Styria, Austria. She holds a Master’s degree in English and American Studies as well as a Bachelor’s degree in Philosophy from the University of Graz and Montclair State University, New Jersey. She is very interested in cultural work beyond borders and uses each opportunity to engage in intercultural exchanges. Her journalistic and critical work has appeared in Anzeiger, PARADOX, The Montclarion, Tint Journal, Versopolis, and more, and her creative work and translations in Artists & Climate Change, Asymptote, Otherwise Engaged, UniVerse, Poetry Salzburg Review, and The Normal Review, among others.
