Norvik Press is pleased to announce the publication of our second instalment to Selma Lagerlöf’s Ring Trilogy, the classic novel, Charlotte Löwensköld. Translated by Linda Schenck with a preface by our Selma Lagerlöf in English Series editor, Helena Forsås-Scott and a translator’s afterword. 290 pages (paperback).
A curse rests on the Löwensköld family, as narrated in the first instalment of Lagerlöf’s Ring Trilogy, The Löwensköld Ring.
Charlotte Löwensköld is the tale of the following generations, a story of psychological insight and social commentary, and of the complexities of a mother-son relationship. Charlotte is in love with Karl-Arthur – both have some Löwensköld blood. Their young love is ill fated; each goes on to marry another.
How we make our life ‘choices’ and what evil forces can be at play around us is beautifully and ironically depicted by Selma Lagerlöf, who was in her sixties when she wrote this tour de force with the lightest imaginable touch.
Selma Lagerlöf was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1909.
Literary agent, Lena Stjernström, recommends Charlotte Löwensköld as the best book to buy as a Christmas gift in 2014. (Svensk bokhandel 2014)
The Ring Trilogy by Selma Lagerlöf The Löwensköld Ring(Norvik Press, Translated by Linda Schenck, 2011) Charlotte Löwensköld(Norvik Press, Translated by Linda Schenck, 2014) Anna Svärd (Norvik Press, Translated by Linda Schenck, Upcoming 2015/16)
It’s 70 years since Elin Wägner, feminist, pacifist and pioneering environmentalist, renowned author of prose fiction and journalism, was elected to the Swedish Academy. She was only the second woman ever to be elected; the first was Selma Lagerlöf, also published by Norvik Press.
Penwoman, Wägner’s classic novel from 1910 about the Swedish campaign for women’s suffrage, translated by Sarah Death and published by Norvik Press in 2009, revolves around a young female journalist, as quick-witted as she is intrepid:
‘Well Penwoman, you’ll soon have driven them all away,’ said the Scanian, smugly admiring his pretty reflection in the landlady’s largest pier-glass from his vantage point in the most comfortable chair.
Penwoman, catching her breath after the heat of the battle, looked up: ‘Oh no, do you think so? I don’t mean to. But it’s impossible for me to stay calm when anybody attacks women’s suffrage.’
‘No, it can’t be easy for someone with such a pugnacious spirit to be a woman,’ he teased. ‘Tell me, Miss Penwoman,’ he said, squinting up at her, as she stood by the door, ‘wouldn’t you love to be a man?’ Penwoman screwed up her left eye and pondered for a moment.
‘No, but wouldn’t you?’ she asked in turn.
In Sweden the novel remains one of Wägner’s best-known works. Witty and poignant Penwoman, ‘beautifully translated’ (Belletrista), offers incomparable insights into the Swedish suffrage campaign. Read more about Penwoman here.
Also available from Norvik Press is Helena Forsås-Scott’s Re-Writing the Script: Gender and Community in Elin Wägner (2nd ed., 2014). The first full-length study in English of Wägner’s output, it covers texts representing a wide range of genres and shows some of her work to be considerably more radical than has been observed previously. The book has been described as ‘a standard work’ on Wägner (Avain – Finnish Review of Literary Studies). Read more about Re-Writing the Script here.
Elin Wägner’s Penwoman, translated by Sarah Death, available at all good bookstores and online.
Helena Forsås-Scott’s Re-Writing the Script: Gender and Community in Elin Wägner,(2nd ed., 2014), available at all good bookstores and online.
The work of the translator involves a constant hunt for the “right” text. But sometimes the roles are reversed and the text starts haunting the translator until it is translated.
Mit navn er Karlsen. Lejemorder.
With these simple words, The Contract Killer had made its mark. Having had the privilege to be associated with a group of talented actors, mostly through their work with [Foreign Affairs], the voice of Adam Mannering had already begun dancing around in my head. His intensity, mannerisms and cockney accent provided an outlet for Karlsen, the bungling and would be contract killer, as I flipped through the dusty pages of Benny Andersen’s early take on Scandinavian crime fiction.
On a weekend break in Copenhagen to visit friends, nurture romance and enjoy some Danish ‘hygge’, I uncovered Benny Andersen’s ‘Lejemorderen og andre spil’. Browsing through secondhand book bins, trustingly left on the pedestrianised streets of the city centre, is a regular treat on trips to Denmark’s capital city. As a Daneloving Canadian, Benny Andersen was known to me mostly through his music and cultural significance. Had he written plays as well? The unassuming and dark-covered folio in my hand proved that he had done. The reverse cover revealed that these plays had been performed on Danish and Swedish radio in 1969 and closer inspection revealed its subsequent publication in 1970 by Borgen. Yes, just like the Danish TV series. There was no time for flipping through the first pages, it simply had to be mine. And for ten Danish kroner, this was a simple transaction. Except that the shop was shut for lunch. Would a ten kroner piece left on the doorstep suffice? No, that wouldn’t do. Lejemorderen was slipped back into obscurity with the hope that it would remain that way a little longer. Two days later I returned to the scene of the crime and Lejemorderen was exactly where I had left it. The shop doors were open and I placed a single coin eagerly into the shopkeeper’s hand.
Reading Danish unchecked is usually quite straightforward but the urge to immediately translate into English sometimes makes the task more complicated. During my first look at Lejemorderen, I would helplessly read a line, then translate, read another line, then translate, desperate to know if the dialogue was equally as clever and engaging in English. It was. My spontaneous outbreaks of laughter proved too much for my Danish wife to ignore. I read out a few of the lines to her, and it seemed they were even funnier to a native speaker. I quickly crawled back into my shell to keep the enjoyment to myself and protect The Contract Killer from being swooped out of my hands. I knew immediately that I wanted to translate this piece, and a frantic search to determine if anyone else had beaten me to it ensued. The only discovery of note was a website, Lejemorder.dk where apparently contract killers can be hired on the world wide web. Only in Denmark.
Several weeks after believing that my many e-mails to the Danish publisher had been ignored, I received a pleasant e-mail from the wife of Benny Andersen, Elisabeth Ehmer. Benny Andersen maintained the rights to this little known play, and he was very happy for me to proceed with the translation, provided they were informed of any plans for publication or performance. Permission for several readings and the première were later generously granted to us by Miss Ehmer and Mister Andersen, and an eventual introduction at their residence was the culmination of this lovely e-mail exchange. The meeting with Benny Andersen and his wife was a warm and wonderful affair but at the time the experience didn’t seem overly significant to me. When I later found myself drinking Benny Andersen’s favourite drink of Campari and white wine and repeating his colourful stories, I then realised how privileged I was to meet and work with such a wonderful writer.
I can’t say that translating Lejemorderen was difficult, there were awkward passages, frantic searches through various coloured dictionaries and pleading questions to the resident Dane which were often met with spurious replies questioning who the translator and Danish linguaphile was. One such exchange occurred as Karlsen is about to take out his mark: Hvad med at bestille lidt champagne – hva? – sådan på falderebet, mener jeg.
I had a good sense for the meaning, but neither I nor the Dane knew that the phrase was referencing the launching of a ship. The champagne of course is smashed against the ship, but faldereb, are the ropes that line the gangplank up to the ship, helping passengers avoid falling into the waters below. In colloquial terms, it is translated as ‘at the last moment’ but after endless consultations, I eventually decided on ‘last requests’.
Once the translation of Lejemorderen was complete, there was never any doubt that a performance would be the next step; that process began one evening over caipirinhas and cold beers. The aforementioned group of actors were gathered together to perform an initial reading and they effortlessly breathed life into the characters. Encouraging support was expressed by the readers over the quality of the dialogue and translation, to which I could only respond that I was lucky to be working with the words and genius of Benny Andersen. However, certain tones, intonations and other linguistic subtleties were not always expressed in the same way as I had imagined. I found myself thinking of Roland Barthes’ critical ideas from The Death of the Author, that as soon as the words have been written, they no longer belong to you. They could be read, interpreted and expressed in entirely different ways from my own. It took some time to accept that The Contract Killer was being opened up to countless new and wonderful possibilities. This was the most difficult step in the whole process: letting my words be taken over by others. Nonetheless, the enthusiasm and energy expressed by those involved, coupled with my own excitement at seeing the project come to fruition, allowed me to slowly relax my grip over The Contract Killer.
Next up, a private reading of The Contract Killer at London’s latest Danish import, Nyborg’s Kitchen, complete with Tuborgs and Gammel Dansk, smørrebrød and cheese puffs, and the music of Povl Dissing and Benny Andersen playing quietly in the background. The reading was a resounding success with the howls of laughter from the benches on the left, the thoughtful murmurings from the right and supportive voices from the centre intermingling to join the worlds of theatre, academia and friendship in approval. This strong reception paved the way for A Night of Crime and the opportunity to present The Contract Killer to the wider world.
Unfortunately the event did not go off without a hitch. Several of the original actors were unavailable for the lucky night (chosen by our resident astrologist), including Adam Mannering, the infamous contract killer, who was due to become a father on that very same evening. Organising and promoting the event was a huge task, which I enthusiastically assisted in alongside [Foreign Affairs]’s cofounders, Trine Garrett and Camila França. Our plans for the evening were not always the same, and once again I was forced to remind myself to allow the professionals to carry out their own vision for the show. A Night of Crime emerged from Trine and Camila’s creative genius: Ben Stanley’s Ouroboros would serve as an appetiser and my own version of Inger Christensen’s Dialog would bind the evening together with the main event. An unused shop-front in Hackney Wick presented itself as the ideal location: Blacked-out windows and a warehouse style atmosphere provided the setting that few traditional theatregoers would be accustomed to. Now we just had to fill the space. Hourly checks on ticket sales were not unusual for me, as I anticipated the encroaching evening with a good deal of nerves. Why had only two people bought tickets?!? No wait, there were three now, phew. Eventually I was able to calm myself with the belief that the actors would make the show a success no matter how many people were witness to it. Standing by the door on the night of the show, however, I was pleasantly amazed as a queue of known and unknown faces sought entry outside this random location. My nerves had been settled by a gentle shot of tequila moments before with a loyal group of friends and colleagues who had come to share in my excitement. Any trepidation I had held over the use of the new actors had been quelled during the final warm-up session only an hour before the show. Darren Stamford, aka, The Contract Killer, was burning up the stage and erased my disappointment over the loss of the previous killer. Adam Mannering had managed to attend the show in any case, and even he had to admit, despite his sadness for missing out, that the new Contract Killer had been outstanding.
During the show, I listened to my own words being performed with some anxiety. I waited for a word or a sentence to be missed or stumbled upon, or worse still, to fall flat on the audience. Instead I found myself laughing uncontrollably to the lines that I had heard, that I had imagined and formed, that I had poured over countless times. They were no longer mine; the actors crafted them, the audience absorbed them, and in the excited conversations which followed, they were enjoyed and repeated over and over again. The transformation was complete: The words had been taken from me, as they had been previously taken from one Benny Andersen and soon, The Contract Killer will once again be passed on to new audiences.
The Contract Killer was first performed
in 2011 by [Foreign Affairs].
The Contract Killer by Benny Andersen, translated by Paul Russell Garrett. Published by Norvik Press in 2013. Available from all good bookstores and online.
Paul Russell Garrett is a freelance translator. He has a BA in Scandinavian Studies from UCL. He is currently working on the translation of a Danish children’s novel supported by the Danish Arts Council. http://paulrussellgarrett.com/
On the 27th of October we had the pleasure of launching the first complete translation in English of August Strindberg’s The Defence of a Madman at the wonderful Grant Museum of Zoology, UCL. A very interesting discussion with the translators Carol Sanders and Janet Garton and Strindberg expert Peter Graves chaired by Tim Mathews was enjoyed by all.
This book is now available at all good bookstores and online
This autobiographical novel is based on Strindberg’s life in the 1870s and 1880s, and focuses on his marriage to Siri von Essen. It purports to be a vehicle for explaining to himself his role in the relationship from its ecstatic beginnings to its catastrophic conclusion. Strindberg was writing at the time of the modern women’s movement and the intense Nordic debate on sexual morality, and the novel echoes on an anguished personal level the theme of the battle of the sexes. It is one of his many and varied attempts to write his own life, to use himself as raw material.
The novel was written in French and published as Le Plaidoyer d’un Fou in 1895. However, the French editor had made radical alterations to Strindberg’s text – how radical was not discovered until 1973, when the original manuscript came to light. Previous translations into English have been made from the published French version or the Swedish translation of it; this is the first translation of Strindberg’s original text.
Norvik Press is thrilled to announce our complete hardback version of Nils Holgersson’s Wonderful Journey through Sweden by Selma Lagerlöf is now in print! This wonderful new edition with 20 illustrations from Bea Bonafini is now hot off the presses.
Nils Holgersson’s Wonderful Journey through Sweden (1906-07) is truly unique. Starting life as a commissioned school reader designed to present the geography of Sweden to nine-year-olds, it quickly won the international fame and popularity it still enjoys over a century later. The story of the naughty boy who climbs on the gander’s back and is then carried the length of the country, learning both geography and good behaviour as he goes, has captivated adults and children alike, as well as inspiring film-makers and illustrators. The elegance of the present translation – the first full translation into English – is beautifully complemented by the illustrations specially created for the volume.
Selma Lagerlöf was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1909.
‘A new version of Selma Lagerlöf’s classic tale reveals a powerful, lyrical work for children and adults.’
‘The personal is the geographical, the geographical becomes the personal, and Peter Graves’ superb, attentively faithful new rendering of Selma Lagerlöf’s masterpiece makes us understand this truth afresh.’