Jealousy Assessment
An interview with Monica Louzon
It goes without saying that I absolutely adore short stories (and not-so short stories), and over the years, I’ve read more than I can count. Still, even though many stories have qualified as notable, only a select few have stuck with me, visually and viscerally, for a lifetime. The first-ever to achieve this status was Ray Bradbury’s “The Veldt,” which I read in a fifth grade Great Books class and emerged philosophically rearranged, so to speak. Its images of a futuristic home, in which the children’s thoughts become reality (and ultimately result in the death of their parents), is a tale I’ll never be able shake. It goes without saying that when I was asked to be May’s guest editor for Chatterbox!, I didn’t expect to read a story that would affect me as powerfully (and as permanently) as Bradbury’s classic. But that’s what precisely what Roberto Bayeto’s “A Falling Boeing 767, Spinning Slowly” translated by Monica Louzon did to me. I read it, mouth open and electrified, nodding in that dumbfounded way indicating something spiritual is transpiring.
“A Falling Boeing 767, Spinning Slowly” is a story that transports, perhaps even teleports, its readers to a world both very much like and very much unlike our own. There is grief, creative block, societal discord, political unrest, and comfort food. We know these things. But there are also slow-motion, week-long plane crashes; a soul-sucking, fountain-of-youth process that creates renegade teen elites; as well as a meditative lagoon full of flesh-eating aquatic creatures. These things we are only familiar with in our nightmares.
Yes. There is much about this story that is haunting and horrifying. But it’s also funny. And unexpectedly sweet. And the more I read, the more seen I felt. There are messages and metaphors and arresting visuals within, and without giving anything away: hope. This story does what all good stories do, and then it does what only the select few can: it shows you a way in and a way out. Of yourself and your troubles and the world at large. In short, this story is generous. I am so grateful it came through the submission queue during my short stint. It was an honor to read Roberto Bayeto’s brilliant words and edit Monica Louzon’s exquisite translation. Below is my interview with Monica.
—Whitney Collins, Guest Editor
Whitney Collins: As a translator, what sorts of stories do you seek out and why? Is this story (though it is definitely singular!) similar to what you look for when selecting a piece for translation?
Monica Louzon: I specifically try to translate stories that feature speculative elements, immersive worldbuilding, and a plot (or characters) that delightfully subvert my expectations. (“A Falling Boeing 767, Spinning Slowly” by Roberto Bayeto definitely satisfies all three of these categories!) This helps keep the act of translation fun for me, and it means there are moments when I’m working on a draft translation and I find myself laughing (or crying) because I’ve been so swept up by the process!
I think keeping the criteria broad for my translation-screening process means I read more widely. Not limiting myself to a specific genre or place means I’m constantly acquiring and reading stories from all over the Spanish-speaking world. This helps me open doors for Spanish-speaking authors whose works might be overlooked because they don't neatly fit into the English-speaking world’s genre definitions. I try to balance my translation work for authors in Spain with pro bono translation work for authors from across the Spanish-speaking Americas, and I try to keep an eye on gender distributions, too.
When first deciding whether to translate a piece, I also ask myself several questions:
1) Am I really the best translator for this story? (AKA, will I be able to faithfully carry forward the author’s vision or humor to Anglophone readers?)
2) Will I be able to find a home for this story? (AKA, do I already know of a publisher that will be likely to seriously consider this piece? Will this author’s voice stand out from among hundreds or thousands of other stories in their slush pile?)
3) How jealous will I be if I opt not to translate this story and another translator picks it up? (This is what I call performing a “Jealousy Assessment”!)
I asked Roberto if I could translate “A Falling Boeing 767, Spinning Slowly” because I was confident I would be able to find a home for it, I felt I would be able to faithfully bring his story into English, and I was going to be SUPER jealous if someone else ended up translating it!
WC: I think magic realism serves such an important role, especially in times that can feel borderline (if not full-blown) absurdist. How does the magic realism of this story work with the political and social themes within?
ML: One thing I love about speculative fiction is how it allows writers to engage with sociopolitical themes from a “safe” distance (i.e., the author doesn’t necessarily have to directly call out any contemporary issues or figures to engage with the topics).
Magical realism in particular brings readers face-to-face with the absurd and then uses that strange, not-quite-our-reality as a foil for highlighting issues in our own world. Through the subplot of “A Falling Boeing 767, Spinning Slowly,” Roberto masterfully emphasizes (from a Uruguayan perspective) the extent to which the super-wealthy are willing to go to hold onto their wealth and privilege, and how they view the needs of average everyday person with the same indifference or disdain with which we often view ants. Leaving that socioeconomic dynamic in place, unchanged, at the end of the story also makes the reader consider what they could, or would, do differently in George’s shoes—if anything at all!
WC: The plane represented so many things to me in story. In the end, I felt like it was mostly a metaphor for George’s grief. What did the plane represent for you and, if you know, the author?
ML: When I first read this story I, like anyone who has been through a difficult breakup, could relate to the feeling of grieving while slowly spinning out of control like the titular plane. Like George, I would have been strangely reassured to have something constant keeping me company and helping ground me (ha!) while I was alone and grieving. (And I think this was Roberto’s intent.)
WC: The humor in this story is meted out perfectly. It’s dry and subtle and not overdone at all. And it’s so juxtaposed to the various tragedies within. Can humor be difficult to translate? What sorts of things tend to get lost in translation?
ML: Humor can be quite difficult to translate! My sense of humor is a bit more surreal than that of my English-speaking friends, which (I think) helps me when it comes to translating humor (particularly from the Southern Cone!). That said, I've had to turn down a couple of potential clients because I knew I would not be able to do the humor in their stories justice. I always feel bad when that happens, but I’d feel even worse if I butchered their wonderful stories while trying (and failing miserably!) to carry the humor and/or narrative tone forward.
Wordplay can be quite difficult for me sometimes, particularly when it comes to intentionally humorous rhyming in English (which is why I once had to turn down a would-be translation client from Equatorial Guinea.) Some people have a knack for it, but I’m not one of them. This is why you won’t find much rhyming at all, if any, in my poetry!
WC: That said, I loved the inclusion of authentic Spanish foods and slang. How do you decide what NOT to translate?
ML: In all of my speculative translations, I always try to keep at least one word in Spanish. (My translation of Daniel Badosa Moriyama’s story “Rest In Peace, Master Pruner” is an exception to this rule because it’s set in Italy, which would made keeping any words in Spanish a bit confusing/distracting for readers.)
When deciding what word(s) to keep in Spanish, I look for words that carry an extra layer of meaning or context in Spanish that they lose when translated to English in specific contexts (which is why I kept “tierra” in my translation of Vania T. Curtidor’s story “Imilla”).
I also look for words that have enough context clues already, so Anglophone readers will be able to figure out the meaning in Spanish, or sometimes I will add in a phrase to help readers out. That said, sometimes trying to translate a word into English or to add additional context detracts from the narrative flow.
My translation of “A Falling Boeing 767, Spinning Slowly” has a lot of words still in Spanish (listed alphabetically). I’ll let you judge whether you’d like to have seen them translated:
aerosalvajes = “air savages” (it just sounded better to me in Spanish!)
bizcocho = can be translated as a kind of pastry, cake, or cookie
bocadillo = basically a sweet or savory sandwich
choclo = a type of large-kernel-ed corn
dulce de leche = kind of like caramel, but thicker and with richer flavor
Hola, muchacho = “Hey dude” or “Hey, man”
jopo = quiff (an old-school hairstyle)
mala vida = bad life or rough life
minimercado = a convenience store or supermarket
niño-anciano = “little boy-old man”
ómnibus = technically the same as the English “omnibus”
paseo = technically a word also in English
ricachones = “fat cats” or “rich fucks” (doesn't everyone want to learn insults in another language?)
viejo = “old man” or “old guy”
Zona Comercial = “Commercial Zone”
Zona Marginal = the “Border Zone” or “Marginal Zone”
WC: The relationship between George and Vanessa was so real and tender. George’s handling of his heartbreak is unbelievably relatable. Clearly, these responses are universal, which is a relief. What universal things do you encounter when translating?
ML: Human relationships (and trying to navigate them, both in stories and in the translator/author dynamic) is probably the most universal thing I encounter, followed by critiques of socioeconomic disparities.
Glancing at my list of published and forthcoming translations, some other elements that seem to hold universal appeal are: coping with loss; a fear of the unknown or of unseen monsters; pushing back against oppression; trying to create brighter futures; and imagining the implications of weird “what if?” questions.
WC: How long did it take you to translate this story? Did you talk with the author as you went? Do you ever have to make hard choices or encounter things that resist conversion?
ML: It took me about 9.5 hours to translate Roberto’s story: I spent about 6.5 hours on the initial draft (my first crack at bringing it from Spanish to English), and then the remaining hours on an editing pass to clean up rough spots and fix areas where I made typos.
Normally, if I have questions about how to translate something, I’ll annotate it in the initial draft and then discuss with the author once they’ve had a chance to peek at my translation. I don’t usually track how long any subsequent back-and-forth with authors takes (unless they request substantive edits to a translation draft). And if we miss anything, my editors always catch the rough spots where my brain forgot how to write properly in English!
Thankfully, “A Falling Boeing 767, Spinning Slowly” was a rather straightforward translation!
If you read the original Spanish-language version of this story (in Revista Mordedor No. 2, Vol. 2), you'll notice that there are actual lyrics from songs included in it that you don’t see in my translation: this is because copyright issues can arise surrounding the use of lyrics from actual songs in fiction (at least in the United States, anyway), and I know this sometimes creates headaches for editors and publishers. So, rather than include the lyrics themselves, I opted to stick with mentioning the artist and song title.
WC: Now some more personal questions: tell us about what you personally love to write and authors you admire. Do you love sci-fi/speculative movies or TV? If so, name your favorites.
ML: For my fiction, I tend to gravitate toward writing weird or surreal stories, science fantasy, dark science fiction or fantasy, and horror. I often write absurd one-off short stories influenced by all the magical realism I've read, and nightmares I've had, over the decades.
Some of my favorite fictional worlds to play in are:
1) My world where books make pearls like oysters, and these bookpearls are sought out by pearlhunting librarians (mixes fantasy and science fiction).
2) My multi-dimensional universe featuring a failing oligarchy, two different types of teleportation, and a central magpie world that steals people from other worlds to satisfy the oligarchy's needs. (mixes fantasy, a little horror, and some sci-fi).
3) Exploring various characters and experiences on my worldship where orphans are turned over to scientists if they aren't adopted by their 13th birthday (mixes sci-fi, horror, and fantasy).
Glancing quickly at my bookshelves, speculative authors whose talents I admire include the James S.A. Corey duo, C.L. Clark, Mariana Enríquez, Monica Hughes, N.K. Jemisin's Inheritance trilogy, Laura Pérez, Terry Pratchett (GNU!), Philip Pullman, Linnea Sterte, Hannah Templer, Tillie Walden, Martha Wells, Sheri-D Wilson's The Oneironaut series—and that's not even touching my list of favorite speculative short fiction writers...
Some of my favorite speculative films and television series include: Andor, The Eternaut (El Eternauta, Argentina), The Expanse, Going Postal (UK), Gravity, The Hail Mary Project, Interstellar, Pan's Labyrinth (El laberinto del fauno, Spain), Panic Attack! (Ataque de pánico!, Uruguay) Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl, the Star Wars films, Upload, and Wild Tales (Relatos Salvajes, Argentina—I'll argue this film is very speculative and absurd in an extremely Argentine way).
WC: What languages do you speak?
ML: English and Spanish for sure! I can read French and Italian (but not speak them), and I can read some Portuguese, Galician, and Catalan. When I hear random people speaking Italian in the wild, I often initially think it’s someone butchering Spanish!
I have a bucket list of 10+ languages I'd like to be able to speak and/or read before I die. I'm at the advanced beginner/intermediate level in Mandarin Chinese, and I can speak some Persian, Icelandic, und ein bisschen Deutsche. Back in high school, I tried to independently study Russian for a while but didn't have enough resources and have since forgotten almost all of it (although I can still read/sound out the Cyrillic alphabet!). Maltese is next up on my list, when I can scrounge up enough time!
WC: And finally: do you like flying? What’s your preferred airline, seat assignment, airplane beverage, in-flight movie, etc?
ML: The irony of reading Roberto’s story for the first time while I was on a plane was not lost on me! Another layer of irony: my family has a complicated relationship with planes, as my paternal grandfather died in the plane crash that became the subject of the first NTSB investigation.
I don’t really have a preferred airline/seat assignment/beverage/etc., though I am always relieved if I see Interstellar on the in-flight offerings. I hope to some day be able to afford to take classes so I can get my pilot’s license!