Word of Translators

Nikolai Markov's Review of Translating "Bastian's Wanderings" by Holger Schmidt
In the spring of 2017, ND handed me a stack of papers, a typewritten text in German, and I immediately said, “A manuscript found in a drawer.” “Exactly,” he replied and asked, “Will you give it a try?” The question struck me as odd — here’s the text, here’s the computer, what’s there to try? But as soon as I began working, I came to appreciate ND’s perceptiveness and cunning in luring me into this adventure.
A translator must be a reflection of the author. But here’s the question: does a translator need to pass through the author and immerse themselves in the protagonist or protagonists of the work? Obviously, if the author is a great master of literary art, then no. But what if the author is merely a chronicler? In the case of Bastian's Wanderings, things were far more complicated…
Holger Schmidt is an excellent journalist and chronicler, but as a writer — rather modest. He genuinely loves and values his protagonist, but on the pages of the book, Bastian is a walking cliché. A tough rocker with a badass bike, capable of taking down a horde of enemies single-handedly, a ladies’ man, and… something else.
When I realized this, I nearly tossed the folder of papers into the nearest abyss. But then it hit me: Holger Schmidt had made Bastian this way on purpose — so he could pass through time, effortlessly glide from one world to another. Where someone complex, multi-faceted, and profound would get stuck, Bastian, on his badass bike, wouldn’t even pause. And when I understood this, I also grasped the overarching task: to pass through. Through the author, through the protagonist, into the world of shadows that rise to confront Bastian — from different countries and eras, both fictional and real — and translate them: their thoughts, their feelings, their letters.
Holger Schmidt achieved something crucial — he observed Bastian attentively and described everything happening to him in meticulous detail. His text is like a lab journal kept by a seemingly impartial scientist, and only the slant of the handwriting reveals how much each experiment’s results matter to him. Bastian achieved something crucial—he passed through the stories of European people like a knife through butter and returned. And as for what ND and I managed to achieve — that’s for you to judge.

Sergey Sokolov,
Translator of “Pourquoi 17"
“When ND called me and said, 'Listen, there's this book, and it's not that simple,' I immediately thought, this is just for me. And it truly was — "Pourquoi 17" is such an enigmatic puzzle, where every seemingly simple move hides incredible depth. Right away, I was intrigued, both as an actor and a screenwriter. But as a translator — oh, it was no easy task. You know how it is — translating philosophy mixed with Kabbalah into literary language without turning it into some tedious textbook."
He smirked and took a small sip from his glass.
"Schwartz Viper, that guy from the book, completely won me over. He returns to Cologne after the band falls apart, trying to prove something to the world, wanting to create music again, but this time with a new generation of students. And then it all starts — lectures, mystical coincidences, Lena's disappearance. And somehow, it all leads back to the number 17, to these mysterious chess games: mysticism, philosophy, synchronicity.
But translating moments like these, where you need to convey both the spirit of the book and its layers of meaning, is a challenge of its own.
What I loved most were the chess games transforming into musical scores. That's Schmidt at his finest. And of course, the number 17 — you can't imagine how many variations I had to go over to preserve the original symbolism of that number. ND and I would often joke that we could write our own treatise on 'Why 17 after all.'
And the allusions to the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice — it's like a stage set for the theater! Imagine all these myths reinterpreted through music and philosophy, through the lens of loss and discovery. At times, I felt like a character in a movie trying to unravel a mystery."
He added with a smile, "And of course, translating with ND was always fun. We'd spend an hour discussing one sentence, then half an hour arguing over the semantics of a single word, and then suddenly a brilliant idea would come to us about how to tie it all together. That's the creative process in all its glory!»