I usually answer these questions with counter questions, like "How does it feel to be a male publisher in a Christian country?"
Those of us coming from countries like Turkey, call it "Southern", "Middle Eastern", "Third World" as you like, I believe give more thought to these issues than our European and American counterparts. We are both more open to the Western cultures and we have more idea about the diversity of the culture and personal experiences in these countries. This is proven by the difference of the rate of translations to and from these cultures.
According to a tentative study published in Metis Translation Quarterly in 1992, covering 200 members of the Turkish publishers' association, 39.5 % of all the books (fiction and non-fiction; excluding text books and children's' literature) published in Turkey during the last 10 years were translations.
When only fiction is considered, the percentage of translated books rises to 48.5 percent the translations were made from 36 languages, with a total of 82 % from English, French, Russian and German (%46, %15, %12 and %9 respectively). Then follow Spanish with 3.5% and Greek with %3.
Translations the other way around, however, are incomparable. There are no certain numbers for this period, but it can easily be claimed that works of Turkish authors are much rarely translated into other languages, and least so into English, French, Russian and German which rank highest in translations into Turkish.
I tried to check the Swedish National Bibliography, but unfortunately could not trace translations according to the languages they were made from. Then I checked certain names. Aziz Nesin, Orhan Pamuk, Yasar Kemal, Mehmet Uzun and other expected names were translated of course. But if I am not mistaken, names from the Turkish literature which are at least as important were not there. To cite a few: Ahmet Hamdi Tanpinar, Bilge Karasu, Adalet Agaoglu, Murathan Mungan, Sevgi Soysal...
A comprehensive interpretation of such a high translation rate in Turkey would be the subject of another talk. I should say however that the exemption by the Berne Convention of Turkish publishers from paying copyrights for books published more than 10 years ago was not the least important reason. (This exemption, which was lifted recently with the change in the Turkish Law of Works of Ideas and Arts, was meant to promote book publishing in Turkey and it did meet this end).
Another reason may be the existence of a not at all small elite, who are very familiar with Western literature and whose mastery of Western languages create a large translator and editor potential. Other reasons could also be cited, but it can confidently be said that absence of good Turkish literature is not among these reasons.
On the contrary, a rich and interesting literature exists in Turkey. Though publishers constantly complain about the hardships of business and declining readership (which seems to be the rule all over the world), new independent publishing houses keep being founded and according to the UNESCO statistics of the same period,
Turkey ranks right in the middle among 33 countries, both in terms of the number of published titles and in terms of the ratio of published titles over population. In the recent years, we have had some big capital entering the market, which both a good sign for publishing and a threat for us independent publishers (banks, big news conglomerates and text book publishers come into the market with big money and in quick need of prestige, and not needing to comply to the necessities of the market, they are ready to spend big amounts for prestigious author transfers, etc.
Let's take a brief look at the status of women writers within this framework. I will claim that women writers in Turkey do not have a difficulty in being published. If there is discrimination, it is a positive one. We owe this first of all to the official (Kemalist) feminism that started with the start of the Turkish Republic in 1923 which put "women" on the pedestal as the modern face of Turkey and than to the second wave of feminism which claimed much more than what their mothers have gained. The discussion as to whether women writers should be called women writers or not is still not settled in Turkey.
But there is one more point, I believe. In the recent decades the culture in Turkey, as in everywhere else in the world, got more and more "daily", and more "visual". In the cultural pages of the newspapers we now see much more photographs and private life details in place of cultural discussions and literary criticism, than, say ten years ago. This, I have to confess, has made especially younger women writers much more popular.
To give a few numbers to support my claim, I will cite a study published in 8 March 2002 in Independent Communication Network (BIA). In this study, it was seen that in the course of four moths, 51 books by women writers were published (40 Turkish and 11 translation), from as diverse subjects as crime to mountain climbing, and 19 women writers were in the best selling 100 list. Among the 19 best selling titles were Ursula LeGuin, Zadie Smith, Nancy Lindisfarne, Zeruya Şalev, Elfriede Jelinek and 14 Turkish authors none of whom are translated into a foreign language.
When you look at the translations in Turkey, you see that the Turkish readers are interested in mostly the same titles the readers in, say, Spain or Sweden are interested in. Then how come the Turkish authors are so scarcely translated?
"Our inability to present ourselves", the lack of competent translators from the Turkish and editors who can read Turkish may all have their effects. But reminding myself that we in Turkey all but close our eyes to the East of ourselves and get interested in, say, Persian or Moroccan literature only when we see it translated to a Western language, combined with my own experience in trying to sell the translation rights of the authors I publish, I will claim that there is more to this.
I started publishing in 1982 and decided in the late 80s to start promoting the works of the authors we published myself, believing that the agents were not working with enough dedication and that lack of sufficient promotion was the only reason why Turkish literature was not acknowledged. From my experiences as a publisher of fiction and being an ardent reader of literature (available to me through languages I can read in or through translations), I believed in my ability to compare works of Turkish literature with those which were being translated widely and some Turkish fiction seemed to me to be much better.
I started with my best authors, who are also considered to be (by literary circles and readers alike) among the best in Turkish literature: like Bilge Karasu or Murathan Mungan. I soon realized however that "good literature" was not the only thing you needed to "sell" in the international market. There is a "norm" in the literature market, which means being a part of the West, and if you are not coming from the "norm language" you have to be interesting in some way: you can not be writing good literature on a par with your Western counterparts.
When I brought my authors to their attention, some "European" publishers seemed interested enough in publishing "something" from Turkey. Did I have Turkish women writers with good stories to tell? This, I understood soon, meant good literary documentaries of family violence, wife-beating, harassment from the violent Orient.
Or something with local color? Well, maybe Murathan Mungan, poet, playright and short story writer; his Mesopotamian Trilogy covers the Middle East history of dilemmas; between different races and cultures, between reality and dreams, between men and magic... Such a poetic and stimulating trilogy of plays, shattering down the concept of linear time and... No, no, they do not want plays; plays do not sell, and do not even mention poetry. I can not even dare offer Bilge Karasu, who is called the sage of Turkish literature and has a very sophisticated style.
He does talk about oppression in his work; for example his novella, The Evening of a Long Lasting Day is about a Byzantine monk during the period of iconoclasm who is torn between his faith and his loyalties, the tragedy of the individual facing coercion, and the tragedy of individual decision, you know. Or The Garden of Deceased Cats, a set of parallel stories, one describing a game from the middle ages, the other a contemporary replica of this power play, this time between two men. No? Maybe Night, then.
A novel set in an unnamed totalitarian city (interest glows), he "disrupts the normal process of novelistic narrative so that the reader becomes disoriented in ways analogous to those induced by the terror he is describing"* and... (Interest fades) In that case, for "something from Turkey", you will have to wait for Antonio Gala's La pasi-n turca. That will probably fulfil the role expected from the Turks in literature. Maybe the Turks will not be able to recognize themselves there; well, it was not written for them, anyway.
If you get through this prejudice barrier, you meet the "quota". It is no coincidence that after receiving very good reviews from publishers' readers and hopeful notes from their editors, I received from one big publishing house in Germany and another in France the same words of rejection for Latife Tekin: "We have already published one/two Turkish authors this year," naming me authors whose works have no resemblance whatsoever to those of Tekin. I was tempted to say, "Oh, yes, you are right. Who wants two oriental dishes in one dinner party!"
But of course, and luckily, there are always exceptions to the rule and it is always possible to find a literature-loving editor who is willing to take chances. I believe it is no coincidence that it was Marion Boyars who ventured to publish Latife Tekin in English. Marion Boyars, to my knowledge, had published five authors who won the Nobel Prize before they won the prize. No need to say they all left this small and independent publishing house after the prize!
Bilge Karasu had to wait to win the International Pegasus Prize for his novel Night to be published by Louisiana University Press. Again, it was not a surprise when City Lights Press, founded by Lawrence Ferlinghetti decided finally to publish his Death in Troy.
But now I want to give you an example. I will show you the cover of Latife Tekin's SEVGILI ARSIZ OLUM published in Spain by Ediciones Mart'nez Roca. The book is the story of an eight-year-old girl who migrated to the big city with her family and tells about the family's struggle to live together under the pressures of a rapidly-changing society, and takes place in the Turkey of the 1960's.
If you look at the cover, you will see "The picture of a young north-African" by Jean Portael. As you know Jean Portael (1818-1895) was an important representative of the traveling orientalist painters who traveled around North Africa. His painting is said to evoke"an image of the Orient, as dreamed up by the souls of the romantics"
Can this be an appropriate cover for this book? The name is also problematic. The Spanish editors have put the name "El pa-uelo turco" for their edition, which can be translated as "The Turkish Handkerchief? Scarf?" Which to my knowledge has no resemblance whatsoever to the original Turkish title, which can be translated as DEAR SHAMELESS DEATH.
I do retain my hopes, though. All this discussion going on about the "other" can not remain on the domain of theory. In literature lies one possibility to realize the similarities of the "other", the "foreign", the "alien" and to gain an understanding of its differences. Publishers and editors, who claim to be conveyors of culture, have to understand they may also be barriers, not only against mutual understanding, but also against interaction of cultures, and that decisions may sometimes turn into impositions. (MGS/NM)
* From Booklist (Mr 15, '94), John Shreffler's article, after Night was finally published in USA.
* Muge Gursoy Sokmen's address during the roundtable in Stockholm at October 4, 2002 organized by Swedish PEN.
