Publishing a limited letterpress edition of “The Little Prince” allows the Print and Paper Museum in Tartu to better preserve historic skills. The Print and Paper Museum, based in the second largest town in Estonia, Tartu, is unique in the entire Baltic region. It collects printing equipment from the last …
All about Estonian books in English
Estonian World recently applied for a small state support for its non-profit cultural sections, but the modest request of €4,500 was turned down – despite the fact that three Estonian founders have out of pure sense of mission invested time and money worth of hundreds of thousands of euros over …
The Gothamites, a book by the most celebrated Estonian children’s author, Eno Raud, is now translated and available in English; the release date is 11 July 2019. The beloved children’s book, The Gothamites, tells the story about people who decide to become stupid. Ironically, the Gothamites start out really smart …
The Hay Festival has announced the selection of authors for the Europa28 anthology; among the 28 women is also the Estonian poet and translator, Maarja Kangro. Kangro has written librettos for Estonian composers, published 13 books and translates from Italian, English, German and other languages. She won the Estonian Children’s …
The annual international literature festival, HeadRead, in the Estonian capital, Tallinn, brings readers and authors together in a cosy atmosphere.
The Tallinn HeadRead literary festival is run by Estonian writers, publishers and translators. This small boutique festival aims to bring readers and authors together in a more cosy atmosphere. When the festival started in 2009, its purpose was to give the readers an idea what the author thinks of their works, life, art, the world.
The same central motif of the writer as a human in a focus is still followed to this day. “We don’t have guests of honour. All authors are expected and cherished. International authors are also most welcome and in 2019 we have authors from Finland, Sweden and Russian,” the organisers behind the festival said.
Events at the 2019 HeadRead festival range from literary breakfasts, guided walks and performances to events for children and the whole family. The Saturday evening event, for example, combines literature and music.
The festival is divided between multiple venues over the Tallinn Old Town. The Writers House (the Estonian Writers’ Union) on Harju street serves as the “central hub”.
This year’s long lineup of international authors shows how far the festival has come. From international visiting authors, this year, the best-known ones are probably Leïla Slimani, Julian Barnes, David Lagercrantz and the Swedish best-selling crime writer, Emelie Schepp. Also, Philip Gross (he has an Estonian ancestry, by the way), who won the T.S. Eliot poetry prize in 2009; Ian Thomson, the author of the Primo Levi bibliography; thriller writer Mick Herron as well as Toon Tellegen and David Patrikarakos.
All events are free, except for the poetry mass at the St Nicholas’ Church and film screenings. See more about the schedule for a coming weekend at HeadRead festival programme.
Lea Kreinin interviews the Scottish publisher, Allan Cameron, who has started to publish Estonian literature in English.
Allan Cameron is a Scottish writer, translator and publisher who lives in Glasgow. He has already published translations of several books from Estonian literature, by Anton Hansen Tammsaare, Andrei Ivanov, Mari Saat and Rein Raud. Tammsaare’s “Truth and Justice vol I” will be available soon. Cameron was discussing life and literature with Lea Kreinin. The full interview with Cameron will be featured in the Estonian Literary Magazine, published in autumn 2019.
Nowadays, so many books are issued every year and some people may think, why bother to publish even more. What has led you to open your own publishing house?
There can never be too many books! Just as there can’t be too many conversations, because language is what people do. The merchant class of the Middle Ages and modern capitalism have always had a utilitarian approach to language, which is often philistine, but also occasionally capable of its own aesthetic. Machiavelli’s prose style is more akin to the modern English than to literary Italian of any age. It is pared down; it is minimalist.
The more people get involved in literature, the better. We’re not in competition with each other, but rather feeding off each other in an endless debate among ourselves and with the dead. I would like to see the return of the long sentence to English literature, but I’m probably alone in that.
Like many things in my life, I got into publishing by chance. I had already translated well over twenty books from Italian, and I had had two novels of my own published in Edinburgh. I then wrote a non-fiction work on language, and it had attracted the attention of some leading literary figures, so I was slightly upset when my publisher wanted to make changes to it (he may have been right).
I decided to strike out on my own and publish it myself. Strangely, it was quite successful and received further plaudits. I then incorrectly assumed that publishing is an easy business. I went into translated novels and initially lost a lot of money, which I have since been trying to pay off. It is difficult to assess whether this was the right thing to do. The upside of publishing is that it’s a collaborative exercise, unlike writing and translating which are solitary occupations.
In the recent years, you have also issued many Estonian books. How did you “find” Estonian literature, what led you to it?
The fate of small nations has always been important to me, partly because of my experience of Bangladesh, which was called East Pakistan when I lived there. Terrible things happened that went unreported because the United States, China and Pakistan formed one regional alliance and India and the Soviet Union the other. The actual reality on the ground was of no interest to anyone in power. Of course, there were more Bengalis than Pakistanis, but they couldn’t join the army and the status of their language was not secure.
Self-determination is a fundamental right and doesn’t only affect small nations, but attitudes to it are often selective, today just as they were then. I have also been fascinated by lesser-spoken languages. This is, in part, because my mother was a Gaelic-speaker, and I spent some summer holidays on a croft in the Scottish Highlands where Gaelic was spoken. My wife is a Gaelic-speaker and my son goes to a Gaelic school. My mother’s attitude to her native tongue was strangely conflicted. She was both proud and ashamed of it. She identified it with the peasantry and felt that she had risen above it.
So, I can easily understand the conflicted attitudes of Oskar in Tammsaare’s “I Loved a German”, because people who have been excluded over many centuries, rebel mentally against their status – but also accept it in their actions and habits, because they have to. Once the dominant power is removed, either through conflict or through a collapse of that power (or powers in the case of Estonia, caught as it was between the Teutonic Knights, Sweden and Russia), the psychological damage and uncertainty endures for some time.
On my first visit to the London Book Fair, I gravitated to the Estonian stand and had a long conversation with a woman who had been called in at the last minute, because the volcano that exploded in Iceland had prevented most people from attending. I took a copy of the pamphlet with several suggestions for translation, which included Mari Saat’s “The Saviour of Lasnamäe” – our first Estonian book.
You have visited Estonia. What is your impression and opinion of our country?
I first visited Estonia in 2014 and had a wonderful time. It was very interesting to meet Estonian writers and hear about their work. Like most small countries, Estonians are great linguists, and this is something I greatly admire.
Citizens of large countries often think of small countries as provincial, but the opposite is true. Provincialism is essentially the tendency to believe that all knowledge and good practice is contained within the entity the provincial person identifies with, but no small nation can believe this. Small nations are outward-looking, and large nations are inward-looking. The English-speaking world or the Anglosphere is an extreme example of this “provincialism of the powerful”. This is why I am so committed to translated literature. English badly needs translation.
Eastern Europe generally retains some of the virtues destroyed by neoliberal economics elsewhere – a greater sense of community and a proper understanding of fundamental human values. To put it another way, they resemble the societies of my childhood in some ways (it is of course more complicated than that).
It is also true that Eastern Europe is understandably quite right-wing in its attitudes, given recent history, but the problem is that when one series of problems is removed, another completely different one takes its place, and these could be just as toxic. Machiavelli argued that the truths that are useful to us in one period are not in another, so we have to adapt constantly to a changing world. This must be truer now than in his day. Having said that, I think Estonia is dealing better with the new reality than some other countries that have emerged into the post-Soviet world.
Do you think Estonia and Scotland have something in common? What would it be?
Undoubtedly. We were more similar in the nineteenth century. The land belonged to large estates often run by people who spoke a different language. The status of smallholders and landless peasants was very similar (this is clear from the first volume of “Truth and Justice”), as were the economic autarky of peasantry and influence of the pastor or minister in those small societies.
In fact, Scotland resembled Estonia more closely than it did England in this sense. The reason was in part climatic: large tracts of marshland, long winters without little light and relatively low populations favour a certain kind of landownership (although, distance from large markets could be the decisive reason, as similar landownership existed in southern Italy and southern Spain). In Scotland, much of the abandonment of the land took place in the nineteenth century and the population has since been concentrated in the more fertile “Central Belt”, which became highly industrialised (but is no longer). Our language has almost disappeared, and our culture has been weakened.
The reason why Estonia is doing so much better is that it gained independence in 1918 and was able to develop sufficient self-confidence to survive the Soviet period. Scottish nationalism today is not about “land and blood”, because Scotland is a social-democratic country that would like to distribute wealth and public services more equitably, something that we’ll never achieve as part of the UK.
The Scottish National Party is the only government party in Europe that actively supports immigration, acknowledging that immigration, far from being a problem, is actually a way to revitalise a society. This is perhaps the most important thing we have achieved: a new definition for small-country nationalism in the twenty-first century.
Cover: Allan Cameron (Facebook).
The latest addition to the Estonian children’s literature is great news for families raising an Estonian-English bilingual child – Piret Raud has written and illustrated a book for children in the age range of five to six years.
Raud is one of the most beloved and unique Estonian children’s book authors – her publications are known for their unique and surreal ideas and charmingly vivid, high-quality illustrations, drawn by the author herself.
“The Ear” is a tale where the protagonist is not just any old, unwashed hearing instrument – but the ear of Vincent Van Gogh, the painter (in)famous for severing part of his own ear.
What has an ear got to do when suddenly finding itself headless? It goes through an identity crisis, searching for a purpose and its place in the world. The story follows the themes of searching for identity, purpose and acceptance.
A visual treat
The book’s illustrations use vivid colour language with a creative approach to reality. The illustrations have a surrealistic approach that simplifies the details but communicates the essence of what is drawn. While similar to the way children would draw, Raud’s illustrations have elaborateness and preciseness about them, creating a visual treat for parents as well as an encouraging inspiration for kids to apply their own creativity.
Estonian children books’ translations are a rare, happy occasion, but to have a case of the author writing and publishing directly in English and with a foreign publisher is even less common.
The hardcover book is now available to order from Amazon and BookDepository.
Cover: An illustration from “The Ear” by Piret Raud.
The Tartu City of Literature International Residency Programme for English-speaking writers and translators is open for an application for an April-May 2019 residency period; the application deadline is 25 February.
English-speaking writers and translators can apply for a two-month literature residency programme in the second largest town in Estonia, Tartu. The programme is open to all non-Estonian resident writers and translators (translating from Estonian to other languages) from across the world who meet the following criteria:
- Upper intermediate level of spoken English
- At least one published book (fiction or non-fiction), screenplay, theatre script or translation from Estonian into another language by the applicant
- An interest in Estonian culture and literature
- Readiness to participate in the local literary life, including events, meetings, interviews, festivals
- Literary work during the residency
The literature residency programme aims to increase international exchange and communication, contribute to the mobility of writers and translators, offer a creative and inspiring environment, and provide writers an opportunity to introduce their work to the Estonian readers, according to the organisers.
The two-month residency with a scholarship and traveling costs covered is organised by the Estonian Literary Society that is also the main organiser of the Tartu International Literature Festival Prima Vista that takes place from 8-11 May 2019.
The deadline for applications is 25 February 2019. You can find information on how to apply on the programme website.
The cover image is illustrative. Read also: The Tartu Writer in Residency programme helps foreign and Estonian writers meet.
“My Formative Years” is an autobiography of a famous Estonian military commander, Sir Johan Pitka (1872-1944); first published in the 1930s Estonia, it has now been translated into English, and talks about Pitka’s “golden years” of youth.
Pitka is one of the most famous Estonian historical and military figures. He led the Estonian Navy during the First World War and was one of the main characters in organising the Estonian Defence Forces in November 1918 after the German occupation forces started to move out and the threat of the Red Army become clear.
Less known, perhaps, is that Pitka was also a writer and a translator. He translated spiritual and wellness-related texts from English to Estonian and his memoirs in four volumes that talk about the period between the First World War and the end of the Estonian War of Independence, were published in the 1930s, in the pre-occupation Republic of Estonia.
The book looks back at Pitka’s early life and the years as the captain on the wooden barque, Lilly (1896-1900), after earning his master’s license in 1895 and having been appointed captain at the early age of 24. The story starts with him looking and finding a ship to buy, and it is told in details that give a nice overview of the life on the boat and choices he had to face as a young leader.
Developing leadership skills and judgement
With fascinating details from a cockroach-infested ship to the reluctant and occasionally drunk crew, Pitka tells his story and how the choices he made helped him develop as a person and a leader.
Being given a leadership role so early in life forced Pitka to make many important decisions. With the responsibility on deciding the ship provisions and selecting a safe route to cross the ocean on a wooden ship, his tasks had only started. The responsibility came with many hardships – storms, mutiny and sickness. Learning to deal with the political minefield of the crew, harbour masters; lessons that he later realised had been invaluable in his career as they helped him develop leadership skills, judgement and resourcefulness.
Later in his life, Pitka referred to these years as his formative years as well as “the golden years of my youth”. Lilly and Pitka sailed the Caribbean, the Mediterranean and the Baltic Sea. He also crossed the Atlantic Ocean four times and made two voyages to South America.
In the fourth volume of “My Memories”, Pitka talks about his time on Lilly.
“The four short years that flew by when I lived and worked aboard Lilly were the golden years of my youth. My experiences with her were more important than all others I have had, before or since. Such interesting, independent and unconstrained work, requiring initiative and self-reliance to overcome repeated hardships and dangers – and being able to do so – never presented itself to me again. Even after the passage of many years, my memories of sailing aboard Lilly have remained clear and indelible, despite the complicated and very challenging years that followed.”
“My Formative Years” is written in fascinating detail and uses simple language and clear explanations. It would be a good read for people interested in the shipping history and Estonian military figures.
About the translator
The Formative Years was translated by an Canadian-Estonian, Hillar Kalmar, who lives in North Vancouver, BC, and is retired. The source of his fascination with Pitka’s stories is fuelled by his grandfather who was a shipmaster as well.
Cover: Johan Pitka in Estonian Navy uniform.
In 2018, six Estonian novels were translated into English, and now it’s time to look back and count the literary achievements for the past year.
With Estonians celebrating their 100 years of being a free and independent country, a larger emphasis has been given to make Estonian literature available to a wider audience.
According to Estonian Literature Centre, a total of 95 Estonian books were translated from Estonian into another languages, among them 21 into English. While the numbers may seem small, for a nation where each is one in a million it’s impressive achievement. Among the six translated books, three are classics and others are by contemporary authors. As one would expect from jubilee celebrations, all six novels have a recurring historic theme.
“The Misadventures of the New Satan”, by A.H. Tammsaare
God has come to the conclusion that sending people to hell is unfair as it seems that humans are incapable of living a decent life on Earth. If that’s the case, hell will be shut down and the human race written off in an unfortunate mistake. Satan is given the chance to prove human beings are capable of salvation. To ensure the survival of hell, he agrees to live as a human to demonstrate it is possible to live a righteous life.
Following the advice of St Peter, he ends up on earth living as Jürka, a farmer and a tenant on a run-down Estonian farm. His goodwill and best intentions are tested by the machination of his unscrupulous landlord as well as the social and religious hypocrisy.
It’s the last novel by Estonia’s greatest twentieth-century writer, Anton Hansen Tammsaare (1876-1940). The story combines satire on the inequality of rural life and the absurdly strict social attitudes with themes of mythology, folklore and the bible.
“Toomas Nipernaadi”, by August Gailit
August Gailit’s romantic vagabond story. It’s summer and the sky is deep blue (unless it happens to rain), the midnight sun is keeping the nature up until wee hours and the male protagonist, Toomas Nipernaadi, is on a journey. With a long days and brief, fresh nights, the counting of the cuckoo bird echoing back from the vast forests and along the fields, the road reaching for the horizon brings out the longing in one’s heart.
Nipernaadi’s carefree wonderings take him from a village to a village and from a story to a story. Lyrical, not letting himself be disturbed by reality, traditions or truth, his only aim seems to be charming people and telling (and let’s be honest, inventing) stories. While occasionally light-hearted and funny (nothing politically-correct about him, these were different times), the protagonist’s melancholy longing for a beauty, romance and happy endings makes a whole story deeper than just a farce.
Published in 1928, it was also made into a vastly popular movie in 1983 and firmly set in the hearts of readers. A story of short Estonian summer with a dream-like white nights.
“I Loved a German”, by A.H. Tammsaare
It has been a good year for classic literature translations, including two translations from A.H. Tammsaare, one of the best-know Estonian authors. “I Loved a German” is one of his latest works. Estonian own star-crossed lovers, Oskar is an Estonian university student while Erika is a descendant of a once-noble Baltic-German family.
In the newly independent Estonia, people talk about moving forward and leaving the dark past behind. However, it’s not easy to look past the habits formed due to centuries of oppression and prejudice. Going beyond the external obstacles, Tammsaare looked into the human mind. Oskar, a descendant of the people who used to work on the estates of Baltic-Germans, starts doubting the source of his own love. Is Erica a prize to be had in this new world, desired for the past, or does he love her for who she is as a person?
Published in 1935, it has been adapted for theatre as well as movies. The story was written in a diary format and is praised for its psychological realism and considered to give a unique perspective into Baltic-German society at the time.
“Burning Cities”, by Kai Aareleid
Two decades of family history, told from the retrospect of a now-grownup Tiina. After the Second World War, her home town of Tartu, that was destroyed by Nazi invasion, is rebuilt and re-mapped by Soviets. The grownup word is one of distrust, suspicion, worries and heavy drinking. Tiina, in the middle of it all, hears whispers and things grownups say and don’t say and knows many secrets, even if she doesn’t know what she knows.
The times are complicated. In addition to a political instability, there are shortage of food and living space and a surplus of mistrust and hostility. While historic background has its role to play, the story is a child’s perspective and the retrospect storytelling makes it into a melancholy coming-of-age-story.
Translated for the first time into English, “Burning Cities” is an intimate portrayal of life under the Soviet occupation and an absorbing family drama.
“Hanuman’s Travels”, by Andrei Ivanov
A story about the daily lives of two asylum-seekers at a Danish refugee camp and on the road in the late 1990s. The two companions in misfortune, a Russian-Estonian and an Indian, wait to go the promised land, the Danish island of Lolland. Meanwhile, they have to survive among scams, humiliations, lies and big and small disgraces.
“Hanuman’s Travels” was shortlisted for the Russian Booker Prize in 2010, translated into German and French and put on the German stage. It is a picaresque tale of hopes and fears in a setting where thousands of people’s dreams and plans intertwine. Ivanov was inspired to write this novel by his own vicissitudes as a stateless person living in Denmark. Their struggle at times engenders dismissiveness and even intolerance, but also humanity, courage and the wisdom born of experience and resignation.
“Pobeda 1946. The Car Called Victory”, by Ilmar Taska
In Tallinn, in 1946, a young boy is transfixed by the beauty of a luxurious cream-coloured car gliding down the street. It is the Soviet Pobeda, a car called Victory. The sympathetic driver invites the boy for a ride and enquires about his family. Soon after the incident, the boy’s father disappears.
Ilmar Taska’s debut novel captures the distrust and fear among Estonians living under the Soviet occupation after the Second World War during Joseph Stalin’s reign.
A world seen through the eyes of a young boy shows a society where it is difficult to know who is right and who is wrong. People disappearing, informants and the tortured living under the same fears themselves.
“Pobeda 1946: The Car Called Victory” is Ilmar Taska first novel, and it’s based on a prize-winning short story from 2014.
Cover: A screenshot from “Nipernaadi” (1983), the movie based on the novel of the same name by August Gailit.