I haven’t even taken off my heels when my mother’s call comes in. I wonder if I should answer. The door hasn’t closed yet, and Gary is still reporting the house conditions: no milk in the fridge, some apples about to rot, window set to manual, heat turned off. I just want to take a bath, get into bed, and forget how hard it is to open a new greenhouse in the city. I lean against the wall, which is cold against my back. I let out a breath while the notification blinks in the upper corner of my sitefield. I could ignore the call and ask Gary to heat the water.
But I should really answer. Mom has called three times already, and she hasn’t left a single message. It isn’t like her.
Ni siquiera me he quitado los tacones cuando entra la llamada de mamá. ¿Y si no contesto? Acabo de llegar; Gary todavía me está dando el estado general: falta leche en el refrigerador, las manzanas van a echarse a perder, una ventana se quedó abierta en modo manual y se apagó la calefacción. Quiero bañarme, meterme a la cama, olvidar todos los problemas de abrir un nuevo invernadero en la ciudad. Me apoyo contra la pared, dejo salir el aire mientras la alarma parpadea en la esquina superior de mi campo de visión. Podría ignorarla y pedirle a Gary que comience a calentar el agua para un baño.
Debería contestar. Mamá ha llamado tres veces durante el día y no ha dejado ningún mensaje. Eso no es normal.
The girl’s name is Lina and she works in an ice cream parlour at an airport. One morning, seeing that they’ve almost run out of pistachio flavour, she decides to open a new container and in that container she finds a human limb sticking out of the synthetic tropical green slab.
Esta muchacha se llama Lina y trabaja en la heladería de un aeropuerto. Una mañana al notar que está agotándose el sabor pistacho, decide abrir una cubeta nueva y en la cubeta encuentra, en el sintético verde tropical, incrustada, una extremidad humana.
It is hard—and I speak as a freelance translator as well—to convince editors that certain authors are worthwhile. Perhaps the best way to do this is to try to work by little instalments, either publishing the kind of book that Nevsky Books wants to produce in English over the next few years or via projects such as Samovar. There is a lot of hope, though: diverse cultures and diverse writers are coming through the pipeline slowly but surely, and we need to build on that.
The joy is crafting something that you feel best represents the text—and there is some satisfaction in maneuvering through rough waters (or around solar flares?) .
My writing is based on symbolism and surrealism, and I add my own fantasy flavour. But all of my stories are based on my beloved country’s tragedies and traditions.
It must have been Tolkien’s fault. Not very original, I know, but reading his works was like discovering a missing piece of myself. I was thirteen at the time. There was no stopping after that.
Learning about speculative fiction in translation, for me, was like working at an excavation site: once I started digging, I couldn’t stop. The more I discovered, the more I wanted to discover.
Our first issue is out on Monday! Thank you to Strange Horizons for all their support and enthusiasm, and to all the talented writers and translators who have submitted work to us.
We're delighted to finally open our doors to submissions of translated speculative fiction, poetry and related non-fiction. Head on over to our submission guidelines to find out more! (As you can see, our website still needs a bit of polishing before it's as shiny as we want it, but we're getting there!)
Samovar came about because we wanted to discover more about the speculative fiction that was being written, read and discussed in other languages. We were lucky enough to be able to team up with Strange Horizons, who were also wanting to explore more translated fiction, and we're hugely grateful to all those who donated to last year's fund drive, and enabled us to open our doors!…
