“Four Poems from Frayer,” by Marie-Andrée Gill and translated from French by Kristen Renee Miller, appears in the Mar/Apr 2019 issue of the Kenyon Review.
Why did we choose it? It seems simple to answer, although it never is. In this case to write a response is actually a very big deal, and here’s why. In 2016, the Kenyon Review made the decision to renew in a systematic way its commitment to showcasing international work and to supporting the craft of translation. This has meant naming translation editors (Elizabeth Lowe and myself) and launching a summer workshop dedicated to translation as transcreation, as well as publishing micro-reviews of poetry in translation every March and September. Most importantly, it has meant bringing diverse voices from other languages and cultures to the pages of the KR and to KROnline, work from places like Argentina, Belarus, Costa Rica, China, Cuba, Iran, Japan, Mexico, Poland, Russia, Syria, and Turkey, among many others. The Mar/Apr 2019 issue is a culmination of sorts, with almost half of the poems in translation, plus a short story. It’s twenty-four pages of translation in total, but, to be clear, it isn’t a special “translation issue”—there isn’t a determined “translation section.” Because translation isn’t singled out in this way, diverse literary traditions come into contact and dialogue with one another.
These efforts mark a recognition of the artistic value of literary translation by a journal with an extensive reach and a long history of bringing out the best work from literary traditions in English. Publishing translations serves as a way to challenge the idea that all we need in US American literature is what we already have, that we don’t need to read from other traditions because in our own language there’s enough for us. It also signals an important gesture of solidarity with those who are discriminated against and persecuted for being perceived as “other,” at a moment of severe xenophobia and anti-immigrant sentiment in our country. And, lastly, it acknowledges translators, both emerging and seasoned, as the artists they are.
It is in this spirit that I consider “Four Poems from Frayer.” These brief lyrical bursts by Marie-Andrée Gill, born in the Ilnu community in Mashteuiatsh (Quebec), and translated from the French by Kristin Renee Miller, expand our notions of who does poetry and how. First off, in a very general sense, the poems expose us to a voice hidden behind a persistent othering, one that insists on binaries like civilized/savage, rational/irrational, and intellect/emotion, and consequently, a voice that many readers may not be aware even exists. That exposure, in and of itself, holds great power. Yet, the poems themselves do not offer up straightforward assertions of identity nor an obvious anecdotal or allegorical thread. Rather, we are beckoned to participate in the creation of the poems’ meaning, working from only a few clues. The conventional order of human first and then nature is disrupted, and elements like ice, lake, dandelions, seagulls, badlands, and brushfires suddenly have agency. The lyrical voice is active and unsure all at once, ultimately letting us in on its secret fear of what might happen if it can never find “the other north.”
What strikes me most is the first poem’s first word: ounaniche. And here is where the translator plays a key role. Rather than explain the word to readers, Miller opts to echo the destabilization of order that runs throughout the poem (a note provides clarification if necessary). In this way, the word undermines a clear path to comprehension and meaning; it forces us to grapple with otherness straight on. At the same time, otherness is embraced, the receiving language expanded, the barriers between an indigenous worldview and English blurred.
This leads me back to the question of who does poetry, but in another way. Publishing this work has everything to do with recognizing the translator as poet in her own right. These are poems in English. While such a declaration might seem apparent, discussions on translation are plagued with debates on fidelity, accuracy, equivalence, and loss, but not much time is spent on artistry. If we consider translators on equal par with writers, it follows that what we look for in a translation isn’t any different from what we look for in a poem. For me, these four poems tick all the right boxes: Turning my vision of things on its head, questioning the common and defamiliarizing it, they linger with me long after I turn the page.