The 2011 Jaipur Literature Festival is over. Walking past the jampacked final panel–the standing easily outnumbering the seated 3-to-1–with Vikram Seth, under the colored banners, and through the gate of Diggi Palace a final time, I was a little melancholic. What next?
On Day 4 I opened with the “Mumbai Narratives” session with Sonia Falerio and Gyan Prakash because–what the hell–I had just been to Mumbai and I’ll be back and I wanted to hear some stories. Now I have another book to find and read when I return home: Mumbai Fables by Gyan Prakash. Like a fair number of authors at the event I had never heard of Gyan Prakash, but I was taken in as much by his motivations for his work as what he read. In Mumbai Fables Prakash says he was not looking for the stories themselves, but inquiring into the nature of how they were created–peering behind the curtain of the mythology, trying not only to understand what something is but how and why it got that way. That’s important: as in engineering, always check your assumptions.
Anthony Sattin’s session on the unlikely coincidence of Gustave Flaubert and Florence Nightingale, from his book A Winter on the Nile, was one of the top panels of the week. Imagine this: two young people go on a trip (independently–they never meet) because they are frustrated with their progress at home, then return to do major work which history has not forgotten. Yes. Familiar. Sattin’s enthusiasm for the two main characters, the arcs of their lives, and the places in Egypt (and France and England) was exciting.
On Day 5, Priya Sarukkai Chhabria and Arunava Sinha spoke about “Translating the Classics.” I have an enormous amount of respect for translators (and, more broadly, polyglots). To be able to decode works in a language different from one’s native tongue–that seems like having keys to a level of the castle that few will ever see. The chief concern of the panels was with which version of the final language to use. When translating a classic, should one use an archaic English to create a sense of temporal distance? Should one use a contemporary voice? And what does one do with words and ideas that exist in the base language but not the final language? Of course the answers were: it depends.
I’ll admit here: I harbor this pointless desire to be able to translate something myself–to be able to open the locked door with my own hand. That’s why I attended one more session with Katherine Russell Rich, the “Dreaming in Sanskrit” panel with Lee Siegel. I envy and admire the focus she exhibited to spend a year learning Hindi in Udaipur, then writing about it in Dreaming in Hindi. Hooray for the doers of the world, in whatever form they appear.
To end the day and the festival, Irvine Welsh read from his upcoming book, Reheated Cabbage. I’ve never read any Irvine Welsh, and his session was up against Indian literature titan Vikram Seth. I’ve not read anything by Vikram Seth yet either, but I’m aware of him and his books are on my list, so I decided to give Irvine Welsh a try, a final attempt at broadening my experience. Maybe it was the Scottish accent, or the unhesitating use of street language, or the straightforward stride through some putrid subject matter–anyway, the point is that Irvine Welsh ended the festival, for me, on a sustained high note.
I enjoyed the 2011 Jaipur Literature Festival–I’m happy that it was suggested to me and that I modified my trip to Jaipur to attend. There is the immediate question, “What next?” that applies to my remaining 57 days in India. But the value of the festival to me was listening to accomplished people on stage and conversing with members of the audience and how it all gave me the confidence to consider the greater “What next?” that will exist when I go home.