Esther Allen wrote recently: "The English book market is the world's largest and most transnational, but the elite group of writers across the globe who can feel sure that their books will be translated into English could all fit around a medium-sized conference table (and a very interesting meeting it would be)." One of those seats would now, with the forthcoming translation of In Red for Archipelago, be reserved for Magdalena Tulli. Bill Johnston, translator of her other books Dreams and Stones, Moving Parts, and Flaw kindly answered a few questions on this intriguing writer, and his future projects.

Was the idea to do the 'complete works' of Tulli there from the beginning?

Not at all. I had already decided to try and work on Dreams and Stones before any of her other books appeared—I read it back in 1996, soon after it came out, and fell in love with it. When In Red, the second book, was published in 1998 I did some extracts for Chicago Review and elsewhere. Then, when Archipelago picked up Dreams and Stones (which, if I remember correctly, was in 2002) and published it in 2004, the other books seemed to follow naturally.

How is Tulli perceived in Poland? Her influences (Calvino, etc.) would seem to suggest she does not naturally fit into current literary trends there.

It’s definitely true that Tulli is not part of the literary mainstream in Poland. In addition, she’s a very private character and has no interest in promoting herself through PR machines—she expresses herself first and foremost through her writing. Yet she is highly respected too—many critics, including Marek Zaleski and others, have done an excellent job of bringing her to the attention of the Polish readership.

What have been the main developments in her writing style between Dreams and Stones and Flaw?

In Dreams and Stones there are practically no people, or more precisely, no characters. It’s a novel about objects and about ways of seeing and explaining. The only actual character is the narrator, whose rather pedantic voice is our only clue to his existence. (Tulli and I disagree over what kind of book Dreams and Stones actually is—Tulli claims it’s a novel, whereas for me it’s a prose poem.) In her subsequent books Tulli gradually introduces narrative, though she does so in a very tentative and self-aware way (this is why she’s sometimes accused, wrongly, of writing “meta-fiction”). In In Red she retells the story three times; the plot of Moving Parts (Tryby) also unexpectedly changes course at several moments. It’s only in Flaw that she settles into a single narrative arc that carries through the entire book.

Although the Holocaust is an obvious reference in Flaw, is there also an allusion to current political realties in Poland? Are there other references that would be lost on the non-Polish reader?

I think Flaw is intended to be read as a universal parable. While the treatment of the Jews in the Second World War is a clear point of reference, Tulli has been adamant in noting that Jews are not explicitly mentioned in the book. The refugees are simply Others, and the story resonates with numerous cases in recent history in which politicians have drawn stark lines between previously co-existing communities—whether it’s Shiite and Sunni in Iraq, Serb, Croat, and Muslim in former Yugoslavia, “Arab” vs. “African” (highly inaccurate labels, by the way) in Sudan, or whatever. For me, the power of Tulli’s prose is that she is able to distil from these highly differing contexts a simple and powerful storyline that pulls them together. To answer the first part of your question, Tulli has been very concerned at the drawing of such lines in Poland in recent years, most egregiously under the Kaczyński government but going far beyond that. The homophobia, anti-Semitism, racism, and anti-communist rhetoric one hears is a harbinger of the kind of thing Tulli describes in Flaw. So yes, present-day Poland is very definitely part of the story.

Archipelago appears to have established a viable alternative to the university presses where Polish translations tend to be found. What lessons do you draw from this experience for the future of Polish literature in English?

Obviously I’m a huge fan of Archipelago, but I’m not sure one can draw lessons here—we should simply be grateful that they’re publishing so much great literature from all kinds of languages. As a translator I’ve always striven not to ghettoize Polish literature but to get it out among its peers—to have Polish writers sit alongside writers working in other languages, and amongst books that regular readers will be interested in. Right now I think Polish literature is in excellent shape—contemporary writers like Tulli, Tokarczuk, Chwin, Stasiuk, Masłowska, and Pilch are all beginning to be published by good presses, Gombrowicz and Różewicz have had revivals, and poets like Tomasz Różycki, Anna Kamieńska, and others are appearing in good English translations. And lastly, alongside Archipelago there are several other presses doing excellent work in promoting world literature, including things Polish—I’m thinking in particular of houses like New Directions, Green Integer, Dalkey Archive, and the new Open Letter.

Archipelago also tend not to include many notes or translator's introductions. Is this a conscious intention for the work to stand on its own?

I can only speak about my own translations with Archipelago. I’ve always tried to minimize paratext in any form, and my hope is always that a work ought to be able to stand either completely or mostly alone—this is certainly the case with Tulli, who simply needs to be read carefully. You don’t need to know a lot of Polish history or culture to “get” her, I think. For me, footnotes and so on are a major part of the ghettoization of small literatures I referred to above, and I avoid them whenever I can—they make texts look like academic treatises rather than novels to be read and enjoyed.

A significant number of authors who came to prominence in the 1990s have now made it into English. Are there any newer writers you are keen to translate?

A current project of mine is the translation of Tomasz Różycki’s brilliant 2004 epic poem Dwanaście stacji or Twelve Stations. He’s by far the outstanding poet of his generation (he was born in 1970); his lyric poetry has been (and is being) translated wonderfully by Mira Rosenthal, and I’m going to have a go at this longer piece.

You recently won the 'Found in Translation' prize for your translations of Rozewicz, and are unsusual among translators in that you work in both prose and poetry. Do you have plans to do more poetry?

Definitely. Aside from the Różycki project, I have a book of poems by Eugeniusz Tkaczyszyn-Dycki coming out this year with Zephyr Press—he’s a superb poet from the generation that emerged in the 1990’s. He has a unique voice, and I’m delighted that he’ll be made available in English.