The 1945 novel was one of the first I translated – and it released to me the secrets of authorship in my own language
Eka Kurniawan
Mon 11 May 2020
‘This novel invites us to see the world from a humble, and at times very narrow, perspective.’ Street sign in Monterey, California. Photograph: Ian G Dagnall/Alamy Stock Photo
We can argue over which John Steinbeck novel is the best. Some might pick the The Grapes of Wrath, an epic about the working class, about migration. Others might say Tortilla Flat, about a group of unemployed paisanos living from one small party to another. Or maybe Of Mice and Men, a tragedy about what it means, and how, to be human.
But if I were to pick the most important Steinbeck novel in my life, both as a reader and as a writer, I would say Cannery Row. Published in 1945, the novel is loosely about a group of unemployed people who live in the sardine-canning district of Monterey, California, and try to organise a party for their friend. Perhaps some other books have affected my life to a degree, but this book changed me in a completely different way.
The poor people in this novel, with their simple language, try to speak and to understand the world like intellectuals
I discovered it at a time when I was new to serious literature. I was still an undergraduate at Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta, to which I came from a small coastal town, Pangandaran. Before setting foot on campus, I had only read collections of silat (martial arts fantasy) and horror novels by local writers, with the occasional addition of a hacky romance. When I imagined what “literature” meant in those years, novels like that were what came to my mind.
Yogyakarta may not be a big city – although it was briefly the capital of the Indonesian republic – but it seemed very large indeed for a boy from a small town, especially when it came to its books. I easily found the bookstores, from the very large shops to the small stalls that lined the roadsides, as well as the many libraries. It was during this period that I became acquainted with not only the Indonesian canon but also with the literary maestros of the rest of the world. It was a time when, full of curiosity, I became intoxicated with foreign-language books. I explored these new works like a treasure hunter and eventually discovered a cave full of gold: English.
Actually, I had read one book in English, when I was in middle school. But it was forgettable. This time around, I was engaged in a more serious effort to expand my knowledge, combined with a deep curiosity about something foreign. English opened a window in my mind, especially when I encountered works that were not available in translation at the time.
How could these writers produce such works? And how could I write like them? I often made small summaries of these books after I read them. Sometimes I rewrote them in my own language, just to understand the structure and movement of the stories. But I felt that it was not enough. I really wanted to sit in the chairs of these writers, imagine myself being them, and write the same works word for word. There were only two ways to do it. Rewrite them verbatim – or translate them.
With some modest experience under my belt, I decided upon the second with Cannery Row. The book, which I bought used, was one of the first that I was determined to translate, and it was a truly extraordinary experience. I not only felt like I was sitting in Steinbeck’s chair, with my fingers writing as if they were his fingers, but I was also forced to explore various possibilities within the Indonesian language.
This novel, as I later learned, shared much with his other novels: it invites us to see the world from a humble, and at times very narrow, perspective. From the engine of a dilapidated Ford Model T to the cash register of a grocery store owned by a Chinese immigrant, even to a brothel. The world in this novel was certainly different from the one I lived in, but at the same time, as a small-town boy I was able to feel a connection to it.
‘17,000 islands of imagination’: discovering Indonesian literature
We can argue over which John Steinbeck novel is the best. Some might pick the The Grapes of Wrath, an epic about the working class, about migration. Others might say Tortilla Flat, about a group of unemployed paisanos living from one small party to another. Or maybe Of Mice and Men, a tragedy about what it means, and how, to be human.
But if I were to pick the most important Steinbeck novel in my life, both as a reader and as a writer, I would say Cannery Row. Published in 1945, the novel is loosely about a group of unemployed people who live in the sardine-canning district of Monterey, California, and try to organise a party for their friend. Perhaps some other books have affected my life to a degree, but this book changed me in a completely different way.
The poor people in this novel, with their simple language, try to speak and to understand the world like intellectuals
I discovered it at a time when I was new to serious literature. I was still an undergraduate at Gadjah Mada University in Yogyakarta, to which I came from a small coastal town, Pangandaran. Before setting foot on campus, I had only read collections of silat (martial arts fantasy) and horror novels by local writers, with the occasional addition of a hacky romance. When I imagined what “literature” meant in those years, novels like that were what came to my mind.
Yogyakarta may not be a big city – although it was briefly the capital of the Indonesian republic – but it seemed very large indeed for a boy from a small town, especially when it came to its books. I easily found the bookstores, from the very large shops to the small stalls that lined the roadsides, as well as the many libraries. It was during this period that I became acquainted with not only the Indonesian canon but also with the literary maestros of the rest of the world. It was a time when, full of curiosity, I became intoxicated with foreign-language books. I explored these new works like a treasure hunter and eventually discovered a cave full of gold: English.
Actually, I had read one book in English, when I was in middle school. But it was forgettable. This time around, I was engaged in a more serious effort to expand my knowledge, combined with a deep curiosity about something foreign. English opened a window in my mind, especially when I encountered works that were not available in translation at the time.
How could these writers produce such works? And how could I write like them? I often made small summaries of these books after I read them. Sometimes I rewrote them in my own language, just to understand the structure and movement of the stories. But I felt that it was not enough. I really wanted to sit in the chairs of these writers, imagine myself being them, and write the same works word for word. There were only two ways to do it. Rewrite them verbatim – or translate them.
With some modest experience under my belt, I decided upon the second with Cannery Row. The book, which I bought used, was one of the first that I was determined to translate, and it was a truly extraordinary experience. I not only felt like I was sitting in Steinbeck’s chair, with my fingers writing as if they were his fingers, but I was also forced to explore various possibilities within the Indonesian language.
This novel, as I later learned, shared much with his other novels: it invites us to see the world from a humble, and at times very narrow, perspective. From the engine of a dilapidated Ford Model T to the cash register of a grocery store owned by a Chinese immigrant, even to a brothel. The world in this novel was certainly different from the one I lived in, but at the same time, as a small-town boy I was able to feel a connection to it.
‘17,000 islands of imagination’: discovering Indonesian literature
The most challenging thing, of course, was the language. We know that Steinbeck often uses conversational language and dialect, but there was something more important than that. In Cannery Row, he employs a satirical, ironic tone. The poor people in this novel, with their simple language, try to speak and to understand the world like intellectuals. Grocers who deal daily with people who are unable to pay their modest bills talk about their problems as if they are talking about the state of the world economy. This creates a very powerful comedy.
I would not say the results of my translation were good. Far from it. Years later, when a publisher obtained the translation rights for the novel, they contacted me to use my attempt. I gave it to them, although I had to re-edit it into what was almost a whole new translation. But I can feel the sentiment embedded in that original translation until today. The adventures of Mac and his friends, Doc with his laboratory, their adventures in a beat-up car, a drinking party that ends in chaos: it all feels like it came from my own fingertips. The book opened a window into the world for a young reader and also, in a mysterious way, released the secrets of authorship.
• Eka Kurniawan’s novels include Beauty Is a Wound and Man Tiger
Translated from Indonesian by Krithika Varagur
I would not say the results of my translation were good. Far from it. Years later, when a publisher obtained the translation rights for the novel, they contacted me to use my attempt. I gave it to them, although I had to re-edit it into what was almost a whole new translation. But I can feel the sentiment embedded in that original translation until today. The adventures of Mac and his friends, Doc with his laboratory, their adventures in a beat-up car, a drinking party that ends in chaos: it all feels like it came from my own fingertips. The book opened a window into the world for a young reader and also, in a mysterious way, released the secrets of authorship.
• Eka Kurniawan’s novels include Beauty Is a Wound and Man Tiger
Translated from Indonesian by Krithika Varagur
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