Translator’s Note

It is customary in translation to talk about fidelity to the original text. I was reminded of this recently as I read the great Spanish translator Gregory Rabassa’s memoir If This Be Treason. Rabassa, whose long list of translations include novels by Nobel laureates Gabriel García Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude, and Mario Vargas Llosa, Conversation in the Cathedral, opens his memoir by introducing readers to the Italian wordplay traduttore, traditore (translator, traitor). Indeed, betraying the text is the translator’s greatest fear, fear of being unfaithful to the text, fear of betraying the author, the reader, even the fear that someone lies in wait to expose the traduttore, traditore as soon as the translation appears in print. Once published the translation is usually a fait accompli. Sometimes, however, the translator is given a second chance. Five of the stories that appear here have been revised since their first publication. “The Canaries,” was originally published in Nimrod International Journal of Prose of Poetry; “The Artichoke’s Heart,” which appears here as “The Heart of the Artichoke,” appeared in Translation Review; “The Farm,” which now carries the title “Farm Girls,” appeared in the journal Puerto del Sol; and the stories “Chocolate” and “The Hardware Store” were published respectively in the journals The Literary Review and Sojourn.

As you can see, something as simple as a title is open to (re)interpretation. Consider the title “Tlapalería,” which I’ve translated as “The Hardware Store.” In fact, the Mexican tlapalería, a Nahuatl word for which there is no exact English equivalent, is more than a hardware store. In this case, “The Hardware Store” was the best choice. In the end, translation is about making choices. Some of the choices are small, some big. If the translator makes the right choices, the reader is none the wiser, and the translator disappears into the text. All of this is to say that the translations listed above have been revised, in some cases extensively. In every case, the goal has been to move toward the most faithful and accessible translations possible. I am fortunate to have found a publisher, Alligator Press, who made this endeavor possible. In addition, I have been privileged to have had the opportunity to consult the author, Elena Poniatowska, during the translation process. Known affectionately as Elenita to her millions of fans, Elena is universally acknowledged as one of Latin America’s most gifted story-tellers. I am honored to have been chosen to translate these eight stories. Moreover, it is a privilege to introduce Elenita to those of you who are reading her for the first time.

Finally, I would like to dedicate these translations to my mentor, Jean Bond Davis, who instilled in me a profound love and admiration for the Spanish language. Without her, this book would not have been possible. ¡Muchísimas gracias, Señora!