No Need to "Pardon My French"

The expression "Pardon my French," which I have never liked, should be replaced with "Admire my French!" Someone uses some sort of profanity, and in a show of false embarrassment or pretended regret at having used such language, asks to be forgiven. Why would anyone want to apologize for using one of the world's most eloquent languages, and I might add, a very difficult one to master. Is it because French language speakers are considered more libertine, more risqué in their use of language, and that consequently, if one swears, one was only being a bit French, since the equivalent word or expression, were it to be used among French speakers, would not raise an eyebrow? Perhaps French speakers are more permissive, more tolerant, more naughty? I wonder if we are all just a bit envious.

I was lately reminded of the expression by an excellent article that appeared in the New York Times written by Michael Kimmelman's and entitled "Pardon My French," only here, the expression wittily suits the author's purposes. Kimmelman is razor sharp in his theory of how the French language will carry on in the future, even prosper, thanks to populations of peoples outside the Hexagon, explaining that France's proprietory relationship to the French language cannot continue, and that the French must get a grip on reality, ie, he writes, "French is now spoken mostly by people who aren't French. More than 50 percent of them are African. French speakers are more likely to be Haitians and Canadians, Algerians and Senegalese, immigrants from Africa and Southeast Asia and the Caribbean who have settled in France, bringing their native cultures with them."

Kimmelman goes a step further in raising the question, "So what does French culture signify these days when there are some 200 million French speakers in the world, but only 65 million are actually French?" He relates the story of Andrei Makine, a Russian-born novelist who has not only written novels in French for the past three decades, has been awarded France's highest literary honors for his works. Writing in French has allowed Makine to belong to a culture which is not that of his mother tongue. And Kimmelman reminds us that although France lays claim to non-French born French-language writers such as Beckett (Irish), Ionesco (Roumanian), and Kundera (Czech), it virtually ignores what comes out of the Carribbean or North Africa.

Albert Camus once said, Ma patrie, c'est la langue française. "The French language is my homeland." After more than four decades of an ongoing love affair with the French language, now there's an expression I can live with.

Delphine de Vigan me parle, ou La naissance d'un roman

Vendredi soir, Delphine de Vigan m'a parlé. Pas personnellement: simplement, je me trouvais dans l'assistance à une conférence qu'elle donnait à l'Alliance Francaise de Washington, au sujet de son livre No et moi. Tout comme son écriture m'avait plu lorsque que j'avais lu ce livre il y a un an, cette femme m'a plu. Finesse, délicatesse, force, clarté, simplicité, complexité : ce sont ces mots qui me viennent en tête lorsque je me remémore sa causerie. Elle a parlé du processus d'écriture et bien qu'elle soit un écrivain établi, publié déjà six fois depuis dix ans, écrivant des romans pour adultes, et connaissant un grand succès en France et à l'étranger, eh bien, moi, je me suis sentie de tout cœur avec elle lorsqu'elle a parlé de la démarche d'écriture, car je suis écrivain aussi, débutant certes, écrivant pour les enfants avec une toute première publication prévue pour août 2010, mais malgré ces grands écarts, je me suis reconnue complètement dans sa démarche. Elle m'a tenue en haleine dès le début de sa causerie grâce à ces deux remarques-ci : elle tenait un journal dès son adolescence jusqu'à 29 ans, et elle n'a arrêté cette pratique qu'avec l'arrivée de ses enfants et la vie de mère très prenante. Elle porte un noyau d'idée très longtemps en tête avant d'écrire le premier mot.

Voici ses livres :
Jours sans faim 2001
Les jolis garçons 2005 (Prix littéraire Saint Valentin)
Un soir de décembre 2007
No et moi 2007 (Prix des libraires) (Prix Rotary International)
Sous le manteau 2008
Les heures souterraines 2009 (Prix Darcos)

Pendant l'écriture de ses premiers romans, elle exerçait un métier de cadre dans un institut de sondage, donc, elle travaillait le jour et écrivait la nuit. Mais le succès de No et moi a tout changé. Aujourd'hui, elle peut vivre de sa plume : plus de 100.000 exemplaires de vendus, No et moi a été traduit en vingt langues, et un projet de cinéma est en cours. Cette histoire raconte la rencontre entre Lou, une adolescente de treize ans, précoce et surdouée, vivant chez des parents qui ont vécu la mort d'un enfant, et No, une jeune femme de 18 ans, sans domicile fixe, que Lou essaie d'aider. A travers le personnage de No, Delphine de Vigan nous oblige à regarder en face nos attitudes envers tout ceux que nous rencontrons au fils des jours qui sont marginalisés par la perte de domicile, mais plus largement et plus profondément par la perte d'identité.

Vendredi soir, elle a cherché à répondre à la question : comment naissent les romans? On brasse des idées, on retient une phrase, on note un titre. La nuit, à tout moment, on est en éveil, c'est un mouvement perpétuel, une façon particulière d'absorber les choses. Pour l'histoire de No et moi, il y a eu un moment déclencheur. Sur son chemin pour aller au travail tous les jours, Delphine voyait des gens sans abri, et au fil du temps, la presence de femmes très jeunes l'a interpellée. Leur image l'a hantée et l'idée est née : c'était le point de départ. Elle fait ensuite une recherche sur la précarité et sur le phénomène du rajeunissement et la féminisation des personnes sans domicile fixe. Entre la naissance de l'idée et la rédaction, il y a l'incubation. Les questions suivantes se posent : quel point de vue, quel narratif. Ensuite, ça se "débroussaille" et les choses s'éclaircissent. Elle a imaginé la rencontre entre Lou, précoce et surdouée, et en conséquence marginalisée, dont la maman est dépressive, et No, la jeune SDF. Et en cherchant la voix, elle trouve la voie. Elle veut que son texte soit simple, musical et singulier, tout à la fois. Ecrire, dit Delphine de Vigan, c'est comme tricoter. On démarre, on monte ses mailles. On travaille mais parfois le tricot prend des formes tout à fait inattendues. Quand on écrit un livre, c'est la même chose : on démarre, on monte ses personnages, son intrigue, mais on ne sait pas toujours où l'écriture nous mènera. La construction d'un roman, c'est comme monter des Legos, une brique après l'autre. Une fois la construction faite, un auteur a envie d'accompagner son livre, aller au devant des lecteurs. C'est vraiment un travail de cœur.

Delphine de Vigan a mentionné que souvent la presse et le monde de l'édition aiment bien cataloguer. Elle serait ainsi une romancière "intime", "sociale", "engagée" mais elle ne veut pas être limitée par ces étiquettes. Ce qui est sûr, c'est que son écriture est lyrique, féminine, élégiaque. Je n'ai pas osé lui demander quelle était l'idée qui mûrissait actuellement dans sa tête, mais je m'attends à ce qu'elle nous étonne encore. C'est une femme à la pensée originale qui n'a que faire de ce qui "se vendrait". Heureusement pour nous, ses lecteurs.

Quelle douce bavarde ! Quelle fine raconteuse ! Quel plaisir de l'écouter bavarder et raconter ! Cette soirée a passé bien trop vite : je l'aurai bien écoutée davantage.

2010 SCBWI Conference in New York

From Washington DC, I took the bus up to New York with my friend and colleague, Marie-Isabelle Callier, French-language children's author and illustrator (published by Alice Editions in Brussels), for my very first SCBWI national conference. (If you weren't there, you can read all about it at the Official SCBWI conference blog.) It's difficult to sum up the wealth of information, encounters, new contacts, and inspiration that I received while there. I found it so encouraging to be with creative and determined people from all over the country. I liked the friendliness. I soaked up the stories of perserverence I found there. Jane Yolen's keynote address on Sunday was high on encouragement never to give up. I loved her line about networking: not only is it key, but she noted that the editorial assistant sitting next to me today just might be tomorrow's publisher! She added that if the publishing world is struggling, the work of storytelling is alive and kicking. The message - whether it be from Libby Bray, Alvina Ling, Allyn Johnston, or Jane Yolen - was that a writer, an illustrator must be true to himself or herself, that we write and create our art for children and young people by, as Jane Yolen put it, pouring our heart out on the page (only one of her twenty rules!). I loved meeting Ashley Wolff, an experienced and wonderfully creative illustrator from San Francisco, who chatted with Marie-Isabelle and me as if we were all old friends, as well as her friend, Louise Borden, a wonderful writer from Cincinnati, whom I would have loved to have had more time with, once I found out about her chronicling the escape of the Margret and H.A. Rey as the Nazis were approaching Paris. I feel sure she would have told me her whole story, had we had the time! I loved the collaborative spirit, the "we're in this together" attitude, the camaraderie and solidarity amongst artists. 


I had waited too late in registering for the Writers' Intensive, but since I was in New York by Thursday, I had the idea of showing up anyway, thinking someone out in the Midwest would surely be snowed in, and that I could fill in for him or her! Well, five other people - Joan Juttner from Wisconsin, Trela Caler from San Francisco, Joanna Sullivan from Pennsylvania, and Debbie Guthery from Nashville, and Karen Robbins from Seattle (who astounded us with her creativite spirit) - all had had the same idea. When, at 9am, we were told by the organizers that the intensive session really was full, well, qu'à cela ne tienne, we created our own group, and spent three hours in a critique session in the morning, and three more hours in a critique session that afternoon. These women were amazing and their stories even better! Never give up? That's the spirit.


One slight disappointment I felt was in ascertaining from talks with other attendees that children's literature in translation (something that I am totally passionate about - see blogpost from October) is not yet hot... in fact, it conjures up yawns more than anything else. But legendary agent Sheldon Fogelman said, after I approached him with a question about translation, "You write in French? You're going through the editorial process with an editor in Paris? You have a book coming out in France? My dear, you have your work cut out for you! What are worrying about?" During his lecture that morning, he had noted that as writers, we mustn't stop at book one. Or book two for that matter. Keep writing, he said. The profession is difficult, but if you choose it, writing is your job. He's right. And since I do have a book with an editor in France with an expected publication date of end 2010... well, I just have to keep on writing - in French, in English, however the story comes to me - and to send my work out as much as possible in the hope that it is good enough, written from the heart enough, to be picked up by an editor who wants that story told. The realities of the publishing world can be discouraging, but being informed helps. How lucky we are to have SCBWI to help us chart our course.

Le mot de la fin? I have my work cut out for me. Marie-Isabelle - whose heartfelt stories I've been translating into English with more pleasure than I can say and which I feel sure will one day find their way to an editor who will at first glance fall in love with them - felt the same way as we talked endlessly on our way home Sunday afternoon. Back in DC, we are excited, discouraged, renewed, unsure of ourselves pehaps, but exhilarated... and yes, ready to continue the adventure.

The Sanga Equation

John Xavier Paul, Mahesh Somashekhar, Lena Seikaly, Ethan Foote


With this blogpost, I'm taking a bit of a detour away from my usual subjects to write about music. The story of the Sanga Equation's most recent performance must be told!

First, a bit of history.The Sanga Equation was formed in early summer 2005 when John Xavier Paul, on the lam after a stint with an AU-based indie rock group, asked several local DC musicians, including now-rising jazz vocalist Lena Seikaly, to form a small, experimental combo with the following line-up: pianist, vocalist, bassist, drummer. The idea was to create an original sound that was steeped in the tradition of jazz innovation, and with that as a foundation, do some experimenting. Enthusiam ensued: Lena signed on, Ted Hamilton would do drums, and a bassist was found. The group practiced, played a few gigs in the DC area, but after initially getting things off to a brilliant start, John was scheduled to leave for France for his Masters degree while Lena remained in the DC area to finish her BFA and continue her ascent to jazz greatness... so the group was "on hold." John Xavier, however, was so excited about what the group had accomplished in such a short time that, during his flight to Paris in October 2005, he began to plan a tour for Sanga in France the following summer. Lena was easily persuaded, Ted signed on immediately for the adventure, and bass prodigy Ethan Foote was recruited to complete the equation. And they were off. The tour was a great success. In keeping with French tradition, France adored the Sanga Equation. Since then, the group has been seasonal, but everytime they get together, everytime they perform, there is a groove and an excitement that just won't go away.

The halllmark of the Sanga Equation is originality, freshness, and that je ne sais quoi that is sparked when creative spirits come together. Although many people enjoy being entertained with songs they know or are familiar with, there are those who are turned on by funkiness and innovation, and a little experimentation. The set list (see below) from Friday night's gig is proof that the Sanga Equation does all of the above. Eight of the 18 tunes performed were originals composed by members of the group: four by Ethan, three by John Xavier, and one by Lena. And in this latest line-up, with newcomer drummer Mahesh Somashekhar intertwining energy and sensitivity, the beat goes on. The jazz tunes they performed were not standards, they were pieces created by innovators in the field: Chick Corea, Miles Davis, Horace Silver, McCoy Tyner, Charles Mingus, Wayne Shorter, Herbie Hancock.... along with a tune by the eclectic French singer-songwriter and poet Serge Gainsbourg. The arrangements were fresh and inventive, and the communication and pleasure among the musicians was palpable. The crowd at this private gathering was unanimous: the Sanga Equation exudes verve, freshness, outrageousness, energy, pizazz, innovation... and in jazz parlance, they were tight. Many of us are hoping that we'll see and hear more of them in the months to come. Some of us pray for a recording. Affaire à suivre...

Set 1
Speak No Evil - Wayne Shorter - instrumental
Reincarnation of a Love Bird - Charles Mingus - instrumental
Les Valseuses - Ethan Foote
Valse Encore - Ethan Foote
Ces Petits Riens - Serge Gainsbourg
Tune Up - Miles Davis
Interplay - Bill Evans - instrumental
Litha - Chick Corea
What the Paper Says - John Xavier Paul

Set 2
Wall to Wall - Herbie Hancock - instrumental
Bring your Handkerchief - John Xavier Paul
Pray to the WInd - John Xavier Paul
Lost in Thought - Ethan Foote
Inception - McCoy Tyner - instrumental
Song of Youth - Ethan Foote -instrumental
Here Again - Lena Seikaly
La Fiesta - Chick Corea
Nica's Dream - Horace Silver

A Blissful Snowstorm

Ten days ago, in Washington, we got snow. It started falling around midnight on Friday night, the first evening of my two-week school break. It was bliss. There's something about magical about a first snow. There's something so quieting about snow (especially if you don't have to go to work the next day). As a friend from Brittany wrote recently when they got an unexpected snowstorm, La neige a suspendu le temps... ce silence blanc me fait penser à toi... I especially like to be tucked away snugly at home, which we were since it was the first day of school vacation. When I go back to teaching on January 4, my students will get a full dose of snow poems. The first graders will learn Snow by Mary Ann Hoberman. For the second graders, we'll learn Dust of Snow by Robert Frost. The third graders will learn The Snowflake by Walter de la Mare. The fourth graders will learn The Frost Pane by David McCord. The fifth graders will learn Stopping by Woods on A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost. I am lucky to be their teacher. I am lucky to be able to immerse myself and them in these wonderful poems.

Here are the poems.



Snow by Mary Ann Hoberman

Snow
Snow
Lots of snow
Everywhere we look and everywhere we go
Snow in the sandbox
Snow on the slide
Snow on the bicycle
Left outside
Snow on the steps
And snow on my feet
Snow on the sidewalk
Snow on the sidewalk
Snow on the sidewalk
Down the street.


Dust of Snow by Robert Frost

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.


The Snowflake by Walter de la Mare

Before I melt,
Come, look at me!
This lovely icey filigree!
Of a great forest
In one night
I make a wilderness
Of white:
By skyey cold
Of crystals made
All softly, on
Your finger laid.
I pause, that you
My beauty see:
Breathe; and I vanish
Instantly.


The Frost Pane by David McCord

What's the good of breathing
On the window pane
In summer?
You can't make a frost
On the window pane
In summer.
You can't write a
Nalphabet
You can't draw a
Nelephant:
You can't make a smudge
With your nose
In summer.

Lots of good, breathing
On the window pane
In winter.
You can make a frost
On the window pane
In winter.
A white frost, a light frost
A quick frost, a thick frost
A write-me-out-a-picture frost
Across the pane
In winter.


Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening by Robert Frost

Whose woods these are, I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

It all began with poetry

In the picture above: Walter Dean Myers, Ralph Fletcher, Rebecca Kai Dotlich, Lee Bennett Hopkins, Jane Yolen, J. Patrick Lewis, Georgia Heard, Sylvia Vartell, Janet Wong.


I'm blogging from the NCTE Annual Conference in Philadelphia where for me, things have begun with a bang, a poetry bang. I have become connected to that genre late in life, thanks mainly to my teaching (see April 2009 blogpost), consequently, I feel I have much to catch up on. But back to the poetry bang. I was undecided as to what session to attend with when a "Poetry Party" listed as an early Friday morning session caught my eye. If anyone reading this went to that party and is wondering who I am: well, I was the lady in the burnt orange coat rolling in the aisle. What is it about poets? They are witty. They are pithy. They are droll. They make words come alive. They are irreverent. They are, dare I say, eccentric... and this poetry shindig was proof. The Poetry Party was celebrating poet Lee Bennett Hopkins about whom, I am ashamed to admit, I knew far too little (incredible but true). He was to receive the 2009 NCTE Award for Excellence in Poetry for Children. Bobbi Katz I know, Georgia Heard, ditto. Jane Yolen, Dean Walter Myers, Douglas Florian, Mary Ann Hoberman, Paul Janeczko, all these folks and their poetry have become familiar to me. How, o how, could Lee Bennett Hopkins have been such a stranger? Fortunately, that gap has now been filled: he is forevermore before me. (Jane Yolen read an hilarious riff on "The Raven" that she had composed for the occasion.) I heard delightful stories about Lee: "Have you heard?" is how he starts his telephone calls and conversations with his dearest associates, for here is a man who loves to gossip. To all those lucky friends of his, he begins his letters and emails with "Dear One." Several of the poets and collaborators speaking there to celebrate his accomplishments admitted that they thought "Dear One" was reserved just for them. But this man has many dear ones. Yes, he was lovingly ribbed and playfully teased by his colleagues and friends who obviously adore him. I learned that he's infamous for his red pen and editing slashing, that he banishes the ands, buts, and any superfluous words from poems he edits. At this, his 40th NCTE convention, some wondered why he was receiving this award so late. Sylvia Vartell (whose blog Poetry for Children is a must for all poetry lovers) compiled a book with poems by friends (all poets) of Lee called "Dear One" and all the party attendees received a copy. We also heard the poets read their own poems celebrating, teasing, loving Lee. Was I glad I choose to attend! I walked out of the session happy, feeling light-hearted, young, encouraged, delighted. Happiness comes in wonderful little packages. This package contained a gift: that of revival, envigoration, balm, hope, encouragement, humor.

Children's Literature in Translation

Try to imagine for one minute how impoverished the children of the world (and we as adults) would be if certain works of literature had never been translated. We would be deprived of some of our richest and most interesting imaginative literary friends: Collodi's Pinocchio, Jean de Brunoff's Babar the Elephant, Hergé's Tintin, Astrid Lindgren's Pippi Longstocking, Saint-Exupery's The Little Prince, Aesop's animal creatures,

and all of Charles Perrault's fantastical Mother Goose Tales, including Sleeping Beauty, Little Red Riding Hood, Puss 'n Bootos, and Cinderella. We would be unaware of the Arabian Nights: Schererzade's telling of Aladdin's Lamp, Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, The Seven Voyages of Sinbad the Sailor, and the many colorful and intriguing characters from the Thousand and One Nights. We would not know the Grimm Brothers' Rumpelstiltskin, Rapunzel, Snow White, and Hansel and Gretel. Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Mermaid, Red Shoes, Ugly Duckling, and the Princess and the Pea would be strangers to us! The adventure of Jules Verne's 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, the delight of Joanna Spyri's Heidi, and the sleuthing of Erich Kästner's Emil and the Detectives would have passed us by. Yet, these stories and characters have inhabited our minds since we were young, and it is thanks to translators and translations that they have.

Despite these familiar authors, much loved characters, and compelling stories, fewer than 2 percent of titles currently on our bookstore or library shelves here in the USA are translations. In France, translated works count for 23 percent. If it's true that English-language works for children are among the most beautiful, vibrant, and creative, it is also true that without world literature, we cut ourselves off from a source of

enchantment, wisdom, and knowledge. The dominance of the English language worldwide is often a sore sticking point in the current debate on translation. Why should one language dominate the global cultural landscape, detractors argue. Others say, why bother to translate when we have such a wealth of our own literature?

Philip Pullman, author of the award-winning fantasy triology, His Dark Materials, expressed it well in his introduction to Outside In: Children's Books in Translation by Deborah Hallford and Edgardo Zaghini: "You never know what will set a child's imagination on fire... but if we don't offer children the experience of literature from other languages, we're starving them. It's as simple as that." I agree wholeheartedly with his assessment. This book aims to celebrate and actively promote an interest in international children's literature has generated some badly needed enthusiasm as well as an organization, Outside In World, dedicated to promoting and exploring world literature and children's books in translation. I like to think that John Newbery, often viewed as the first publisher of children's literature and whose leitmotiv was to "combine instruction with delight," would have been a big supporter.

The International Board on Books for Young People (IBBY) was founded after WWII with the objective of promoting international understanding through children's literature. In 1956, it established the Hans Christian Andersen Award for a living author and illustrator whose works have made a lasting contribution to children's literature. In 1978, it added an Honour List to include a category for acknowledging excellence in translation. It also publishes a journal, Bookbird, a journal of international children's literature, which reviews and recommends books for translation.

Stateside, the American Library Association (ALA) established the Mildred Batchelder Award in 1966, to be given to the American publisher of the most outstanding translation into English of books originally published in a language other than English in a country other than the United States. The award promotes the translation of children's literature, seeking "to eliminate barriers to understanding between people of different cultures, races, nations, and languages." The 2009 Award winner was for Arthur A. Levine Books' Moribito: Guardian of the Spirit, written by Nahoko Uehashi, translated from the Japanese by Cathy Hirano. And the two 2009 Honor Books were translated from the Norwegian by Don Bartlett, and from the German by Anthea Bell.

A propos, ever heard of Asterix? Of course you have. Ever heard of Anthea Bell? Probably not. In the world of translation of children's literature, she's the equivalent of a rock star! In 1996, 2003, and 2007, she received United Kingdom's Marsh Award for Children's Literature in Translation, an honor that goes to the translator rather than to the author. In her vibrant translation of the Asterix bandes dessinées, she did an phenomenal job of keeping the original playful puns intact, receiving high praise for her creatively innovative translation. When interviewed, she once said that a translator becomes another author while at the same time having to get under the skin of the original author. She has translated the wildly popular Inkworld triology by Cornelia Funke. Her translations have won for her publishers the Batchelder Award four different times, and the Batchelder Honor three different times to date, most recently in 2009 for Amulet Books' Tiger Moon, written by Antonia Michaelis, translated by Ms. Bell from the German.

As an advocate for the translation of children's literature, I believe the purpose of books in translation - besides the sheer pleasure of discovery and reading - should be to acquaint children with other cultures. As Anthea Bell put it in a 2006 interview with Writer Unboxed, "The more widely children read, the more open-minded they will surely get to be." An arduous yet exhilirating task, translating children's literature is what I love. Seeking the words and phrases that will convey original meaning is better than solving the most challenging puzzle. If the work of translators breaks down barriers of language and race and geography leads to a greater understanding of other peoples and their culture, might translators be working for world peace?