Once we got the poetry out of the way, Edgar started sending me the good stuff: two spy novels. They were really more like spy novellas, as each would be about 70-80 pages in length in a standard book format. But, believe me, they read like tomes. Besides, it’s much sexier to say I’ve worked for a spy novelist. What do you call a person who writes novellas? How do you even say novella in Spanish? The first thing to come to mind is novela mocha. Wikipedia says novela corta.
I’m not a consumer of the genre, but translating spy novels turned out to be rather interesting. Even breathtaking at points. Since most translators translate things of a very tedious nature (demand for literary translations is low), I probably won some translation lottery by getting this bonanza of riveting material, if not particularly remunerative or prestigious. There were high-speed car chases that invariably ended in the middle of a river, shootouts down the dark hallways of an underground bunker, secret trapdoors, police interrogations, lots of drugs, sex scenes, and so on and so forth. Anything but boring, these are two novels you don’t want to reach for when you have insomnia in the middle of the night.
Here’s the official synopsis of the first book (which I wrote, of course), and you can click here if you want to read more.
A powerful Colombian drug lord, deranged, ruthless, and considered to be the richest drug kingpin in the world, hires Al Qaeda terrorists to launch a missile strike on the headquarters of the Drug Enforcement Administration in Arlington, Virginia, and brutally kill active agents worldwide. Only the CIA has the potential to stand up to his madness, employ elite commando units to penetrate his indestructible bunker in the middle of the Amazon jungle—where he’s building dangerous biological weapons—and take him out.
And here’s the official synopsis of the second book. Click here if you want to read more.
A retired Greek soldier living in the Czech Republic, dedicated to producing hardcore pornography, utterly ruthless in the pursuit of his ambitions. An enormous shipment of weapons for a powerful guerilla group in Colombia. A furious chase of enigmatic figures through Bogota, Paris, and Prague. Assassinations of politicians, influential businessmen, and a beautiful French CIA informant . . . A modern thriller with a group of unprecedented and sadistic terrorists thrown into an extremely action-packed investigation.
There are a few reviews and ratings of the books on Amazon and Goodreads. Curiously, there’s never any mention in the English reviews that the books are translations. As I never received any credit for my work, there’s a good chance that the readers didn’t even know they were reading a translation. I also can’t help but notice that on Amazon the first book has an overall rating of four stars for the English version, whereas the original Spanish version has an overall rating of only one star. I am way beyond caring about any of this, though. At least I don’t have any regrets about the quality of the work I did. Not that it matters in the grand scheme of things!
Both books had a sex scene, and I loathed translating those parts. But not for the reasons you’d probably guess. The books were also filled with violence– terrorist attacks, police torture, shootings, bombings, and the like. There was even a woman who had a gun placed in her vagina and was then shot. Incredibly dark and sad. There I was in Medellín with this beautiful weather outside just beckoning, pleading with me to come out and enjoy it, and I was confined inside translating this drivel. And then I wondered why I was unhappy? ¡Qué locura! Never, ever, ever again. Ni de vainas, ni por el forro, ni por el berraco.
So, now you know about my illustrious but short-lived career as a literary translator. I’ve shared this experience with you because I can’t bear to think that all of that hard work and mental anguish were for naught. I poured my blood, sweat and tears into these translations during five long, arduous months, and naturally I would like to believe that my unmistakable talent is clearly written all over them. Ahem. After losing most of what I had in Medellín, these stories–for better or for worse–are what have lasted: a permanent and public–albeit absurd–memento of an unforgettable time of my life. Until I write or translate something better, these are my literary masterpieces (yikes). The good news is that I am going to write something better. Something much, much better (in English and Spanish). Yep, I’m going to write a book! I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and everything has lined up recently to enable it. I’m going to announce it more formally when my blog turns two, which will be in October. I’m also going to go back to Colombia for a short while to work on it. Finally, all of my blog readers will, of course, get a free copy– I figure it’s the least I can do for all of the incredible support you’ve shown me over the last two years. More info to come! Un abrazo murciélago.
-v.
