Translation is a big part of my blog, with most of my reviews covering fiction in translation, of course, as well as the occasional look at various books examining the concept.  In fact, you could even throw in my own, amateurish attempts to bring certain texts into English.  Today’s choice, however, takes a slightly different tack, as we look at a fictional slant on the noble art.  This one’s a novel examining what happens when the translator is let off their tight leash, and as we’re to see, the results can be disturbing, and disastrous…

*****
Jennifer Croft’s The Extinction of Irena Rey (review copy courtesy of Scribe Publications) follows eight translators as they convene for a ‘summit’ at the house of world-famous Polish writer Irena Rey.  It’s not the first time they’ve gathered in this way, coming together in a house built in the middle of the immense Białowieża Forest, to work, together with the author, this time on her most recent novel, Grey Eminence.  The usual routine is to sit around the table and collaborate, helping each other out with research and tricky references, and the group is looking forward to spending a few weeks, or months, immersed in the writer’s world.

However, this time around, things are a little different.  For one thing, there’s a newcomer in their midst, Swedish (replacing Czech, whose sad demise is whispered of in the first pages).  In addition, Irena herself seems a little different, and there’s no sign of her husband, Bogdan, the man who usually organises day-to-day life at the house.  It’s when Irena herself goes missing, though, that the eight visitors really become concerned.  Just what is going on in the house in the woods?  And what is it about Grey Eminence that makes them feel this might be the last time they all work together on Irena’s fiction?

Most readers will be aware that Croft herself is an accomplished translator, best known for her work on Polish writer Olga Tokarczuk’s novels Flights and The Books of Jacob.  Her insights underpin a fun story in which translators used to hanging on the author’s every word are left to work out what to do when she’s not there.  The novel charts the group’s disintegration and manic behaviour, stuck in the eerie forest with storms, power cuts and a number of shady characters roaming the neighbourhood.

Part of the charm of The Extinction of Irena Rey is due to its clever format.  We’re supposedly reading the English-language translation of a novel first written in Polish, a fictionalised account of the translation summit penned by Emilia, Rey’s Spanish-language translator.  To make things even more complicated, Alexis Archer, the American doing the translating, is also a character in the novel, and you get the feeling that this is no labour of love.  You see, given that she’s not portrayed kindly in the book (and that’s an understatement), there’s distinct tension between the translator, the translator/writer and Rey herself.

It’s this tension that really drives the story along, with Emilia never missing an opportunity to take a jab at Alexis:

Alexis opened a sturdy American umbrella without so much as a half step away from our tight cluster under the roof.  I ducked and saw the other three had also scattered to escape her.  She didn’t notice.  How American, I thought, and how Alexis.
p.97 (Scribe Publications, 2024)

Seen through Emilia’s eyes, Alexis is the stereotypical American abroad, a glamazon who’s ever-so-slightly full of herself, standing out from the group in ways both good and bad.

Of course, given that Alexis (Croft’s alter-ego!) is providing us with this text, she has the opportunity to even the score somewhat, which she does gleefully in the form of copious footnotes:

58 Literally no one alleged this other than her (and she is insane) (Trans.). (p.232)

In a sense, she provides us with another side to the story below the line, commenting on Emilia’s views and occasionally correcting them.  Where the ‘writer’ introduces herself as a romantic heroine, doing her best to keep her head while all around are losing theirs, her American counterpart nudges us towards seeing Emi herself as half-deranged…

Naturally, there’s also a lot here about the the enigmatic Rey, a woman who makes a brief appearance only to go AWOL for most of the novel.  Larger than life and subject to an almost religious devotion (usually referred to as Our Author, capital letters included), the supposed 2026 Nobel Laureate is a colourful caricature of Tokarczuk (who is also mentioned several times by name herself).  After a stellar career based on books on a wide variety of subjects, she inspires both adoration and fervent hatred, with few people indifferent to her work and personality.

Above all, however, The Extinction of Irena Rey is a mystery novel, reminding me in many ways of the recent Knives Out films.  There’s the gathering of a disparate group at a remote location, the disappearance of the writer and distinct suspicions of foul play.  All the while, as the translators attempt to work out what’s going on, the various rivalries and attractions are played out, with surprise visitors turning up to add to the tension.  It’s all rather OTT at times, with the translators coming apart at the seams the longer they’re left to their own devices.

And yet, they’re not just disintegrating, but also emerging as individuals, in a way they couldn’t when Their Author was present.  Each time they meet in Białowieża, they unthinkingly submit to the rules of the summit, never considering they might have a right to question them:

But we couldn’t say that.  We couldn’t say any of it.  As translators, we were accustomed to muting our own voices. (p.32)

Initially, they continue to refer to each other by language (French, Serbian, Swedish), but then hesitantly start to use each other’s actual names, before going on to break other taboos, such as drinking alcohol and entering hitherto private parts of the house.  It isn’t long before anything goes, and the house becomes a mess – and as for their love lives…

The Extinction of Irena Rey is also a densely plotted story, with plenty of Tokarczuk Easter eggs for the devoted.  For example, there’s a notable focus on fungi, and the idea of mycelia, the great underground systems of interconnected plant-life.  This also plays a prominent role in Tokarczuk’s early novel Primeval and Other Times (translated by Antonia Lloyd-Jones), and on several occasions here, fungi are lauded as heroes of the forest, bringing forth life from death.  Of course, there’s also the fact that mushrooms can be rather dangerous – just saying.

If I’m honest, though, I was slightly less sold on the mystery element than on the interaction between the translators.  The second half of the novel featured lots of coming and going, including a few surprises I wasn’t particularly surprised by.  The choice of genre demands an ending, and the last thirty pages or so rushes towards this – at which point, I found myself skimming rather than paying close attention, even if Croft does manage to build towards an enjoyable and suitable conclusion to the tale.

On the whole, The Extinction of Irena Rey is an enjoyable look behind the scenes of translating a literary superstar (hopefully not too accurate a portrayal…).  Croft shows us, in an exaggerated manner, what translators have to give up in order to make their authors shine, portraying the lives of those who mute themselves to bring out another’s voice.  Most of you will be aware that she’s a high-profile supporter of the #NameTheTranslator campaign (which ironically means that she may not get to translate Tokarczuk again…), but one thing’s for sure here.  Croft’s name is *definitely* on this cover, and fully deserves to be, too.