An Interview With Dominique Goy-Blanquet Translator of Les Lanceurs de Feu

I spent a wonderful few days in Paris last week launching Les Lanceurs de Feu, (the French translation of The Fire Starters). My French publishers Sabine Wespesier Editions were the most fantastic hosts and it was wonderful to launch the novel with old friends and new at the Centre Culturel Irlandais. It was an unexpected, but very welcome, encouragement to hear Les Lanceurs de Feu has already been longlisted for two prestigious French literary awards the Prix Femina and Prix Médicis.

I suspect the absolutely fantastic translation has played a large part in winning attention, accolades and new readers in France. I’m so grateful to my translator Dominique Goy-Blanquet for the hard work, attention to detail and enthusiasm she’s poured into my wee book. Dominique is an extremely established translator and Shakespeare scholar. It was a real honour to work with her on this book and to spend a little time getting to know her in Paris last week. I firmly believe that a translation is a unique and lively entity -a collaboration between the author and translator which exists in its own right as a piece of art- and I’m already hoping Dominique and I get to collaborate again. I think we have more stories to tell together. I’m delighted that she’s taken the time to answer a few questions about her work on Les Lanceurs de Feu. As always, huge respect to all the translators who handle our words with respect and care.

1. How did you come to work on The Fire Starters?

I had already translated several novels and collections of short stories for Sabine Wespieser, including Nuala O’Faolain’s A More Complex Truth, and when she asked me whether I would like to translate The Fire Starters, it took me just one look at the first page on “Sirens’ to think that, yes, I would like to. And I did.

2. What was your favourite part of working on this novel?

What the sirens suggested, the blending of urban everyday life with the fantastic, and  the weight of history in the background. The irony of ‘Belfast is for lovers’. The economy of the writing. The sure balance between emotion and unsentimental distance. The endearing Unfortunate Children. Indeed, the whole book.

3. What was the most challenging part of this translation?

My British brother-in-law often reminds me that in English, any noun can be verbed, any verb can be nouned. Not so in French, where grammar and grammatical tools impose precision. In dialogues, the moment a French-speaking character opens his mouth, he will expose his level of education. Where the original simply says ‘I don’t know’, the translator has to choose between the correct ‘je ne sais pas’ and the popular ‘je sais pas’ or possibly the oral ‘chsais pas’ .

Thankfully,  Jan Carson provides her protagonists with clear linguistic markers, which made that part of the work easier. It is reassuring when you feel your author knows exactly what she is doing with language and you can trust her signals. I have never been to Northern Ireland, only have a basic knowledge of its history, so that too required special care.  But the main difficulty  was to render Jan’s very subtle departures from common usage, her landscapes and ordinary objects which take on a will of their own. Uncanny moments usually come without warning, and can be quite a challenge, for instance these sentences, ‘The door is knocked’, ‘The door does not open’, ‘The door is knocked again’ at the start of the chapter ‘Confession’, emblematic of the difficult dialogue that is to follow, when Jonathan and Sammy, who have already taken so many knocks, unfold to each other.