10 Questions for Hanna Leliv
- By Franchesca Viaud
The woman who was once caught by the air raid siren while she was taking a bath was most afraid of dying like that—without her panties, naked, with wet hair and hairy legs;
afraid that the first responders who would pull her from the rubble would see her white body with cellulite prominent on her thighs and a soft, sagging belly she had learned to pull in with corrective underwear and think, "Who prepares for death like that? She could've at least lost a few pounds and worked out for a few months";
—from Yuliia Iliukha's "My Women" (translated by Hanna Leliv) Volume 65, Issue 3 (Fall 2024)
Tell us about one of the first pieces you translated.
My first work of fiction that I translated from English into Ukrainian was George’s Secret Key to the Universe, a chapter book by Steven and Lucy Hawking. It quickly became a hit in Ukraine, filling a gap in plot-driven children’s fiction that combined storytelling with scientific facts. I went on to translate the entire six-book series. As for my translations into English, the first piece I worked on was Richard the Chickenheart, a poignant short story by Kateryna Babkina about an American photographer who came to Kyiv in 2014, not for the history but for the hype, eager to capture the post-revolution thrill with a few cool shots before leaving without looking deeper. Even six years after it was written, this story—sadly—still resonates today.
What writer(s) or works have influenced the way you write now?
My translations have been shaped more by other translators than by anything else—specifically, by the approaches, strategies, creativity, and ingenious solutions of my peers; all those “wow, how did they even do it?” and “oh, this is such an elegant move” moments. I'm thinking here of Ukrainian translators like Olha Lubarska, Ostap Slyvynsky, Antonina Yashchuk, as well as those working into English like Reilly Costigan-Humes, Dominique Hoffman, Ali Kinsella, and many, many others. Books like This Little Art by Kate Briggs and Fifty Sounds by Polly Barton have also profoundly influenced how I think about the craft (and art!) of translation.
What other professions have you worked in?
A server at Waffle House during the summer Work and Travel program, which was very popular with Ukrainian students back in the day; a teacher of English for software developers; a project manager at an IT company; a coordinator for the Ukrainian TED translation community; an events coordinator.
What did you want to be when you were young?
A teacher of English. My inspiration was an American peace corps volunteer who taught in my school for two years in late 1990s. I did major in English language and literature and then taught English for a while before transitioning into translation full-time.
What drew you to write a translation of this piece in particular?
I first met Yuliia in 2019 when she curated a bilingual collection of poetry by Ukrainian veterans. After Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, Yuliia began writing flash fiction to capture the physically and emotionally draining experiences of women during the war. She shared these concise, emotionally intense pieces on Facebook, and I reached out, suggesting I translate a few into English to share her work with a broader audience. I ended up translating all forty stories, which are being published as a collection titled My Women with 182 Lit on October 1. Yulia is also coming to the US for a book launch and a series of readings. I was drawn to her stories for their brevity and emotional depth but, above all, because I see them as a powerful testament to the experiences of women in war—a reality far more common in today’s world than we would like to admit.
Is there a city or place, real or imagined, that influences your writing?
That's an interesting question! Coming from the west of Ukraine and living in Lviv definitely shapes my writing in Ukrainian. This would often manifest in my choice of words and idioms that reflect my regional roots.
Is there any specific music that aids you through the writing or editing process?
Most of the time, it’s just random background music if I’m working in a café or another public space. At home, I usually work in silence. But your question reminds me of the pandemic days when I’d sometimes pull up this Sound of Colleagues website just to hear some human sounds—the sounds of ‘life as we knew it’—in the background, to hold on to a bit of normalcy.
Do you have any rituals or traditions that you do in order to write?
Not really. Motherhood and years of freelancing made me very flexible about where I can work. I can translate anywhere—from an airport or public library to a busy café, a noisy kitchen, or simply from my bed. When my kids were babies, I often worked in fifteen-minute bursts during those precious little snippets of time called naps. Now that they’re at school, it’s much easier, of course, but I’m still like that: I don’t wait for the perfect mood or a rush of inspiration. I just open my laptop and start working, and the drive comes naturally once I’m in the flow.
If you could work in another art form what would it be?
Probably ceramics☺
My friend Veronika Yadukha has been working on an intersemiotic translation, transposing Richard Brautigan's poems into beautiful, unique ceramic tea bowls. This boundary-pushing idea has captivated me ever since I first saw her transcreations.
What are you working on currently?
For the past two months, I've been working with fellow translator Yevheniia Dubrova on translating a collection of essays about Crimean Tatar activists who are political prisoners in Russian prisons and penal colonies. This project, initiated by PEN Ukraine, aims to raise awareness about the persecution of Crimean Tatars by the Russian authorities in Crimea and the suffering of the activists, human rights advocates, and journalists unjustly imprisoned by Russia, as well as the impact on their families, who continue to fight tirelessly for their release. Yevheniia and I finished another collaborative project just last week. We translated The Factory, a novel by Ukrainian writer Ihor Mysiak, an evocative tale of a motley and rather quirky group of men who revive a dilapidated factory in an old, forgotten village to build and sell electronic machines that promise happiness. The book is slated for publication this fall by Detroit-based indie press, Atthis Arts. Tragically, The Factory was Ihor’s first and last novel: after Russia’s full-scale invasion, he joined the army to defend his homeland and was killed near Bakhmut on April 1, 2023. HANNA LELIV is a literary translator working between Ukranian and English. She was a Fulbright fellow at the University of Iowa's Literary Translation MFA program and mentee at the Emerging Translators Mentorship Program run by the UK National Center for Writing. In 2023-24, Hanna was a translator-in-residence at Princeton University.
HANNA LELIV is a literary translator working between Ukranian and English. She was a Fulbright fellow at the University of Iowa's Literary Translation MFA program and mentee at the Emerging Translators Mentorship Program run by the UK National Center for Writing. In 2023-24, Hanna was a translator-in-residence at Princeton University.
