In partnership with the publisher Tusquets, Prensa Ibérica presents a portion of a conversation once shared with a journalist and told through the pages of newspapers. It marks a milestone in the 20th century Spanish publishing scene, a moment that shaped how books and editorials traveled through the era.
Beatriz de Moura recounts the moment she first admitted her wish to become the editor for a Czech writer who would become a touchstone in world literature. During that initial exchange, a question arose that revealed a deeper bond: just what did readers really learn about her work? The answer forged a connection that Tusquets would cultivate with skill, widening the map of literature in translation. Milan Kundera has passed away, yet this testimony breathes life into his memory.
Excerpt from ‘For an Enjoyable Read’
In 1984, Toni and the interviewer traveled to Paris after receiving a letter proposing to publish Kundera’s work if the accompanying catalog aligned with his standards. The letter hinted at a recent departure from a Spanish publishing house, yet excitement persisted over the high-stakes venture. As a reader, the narrator had heard many stories about Kundera, including his meticulous attitude toward translations. The Joke captivated them when read in French in 1969, and later in Spanish, its brilliance remained evident. At that moment, Kundera had already engaged with Life Is Elsewhere in Spanish.
Kundera pushed the conversation into a third layer of inquiry. The editor imagined a theoretical debate about translating from Czech to Spanish versus Czech to French, highlighting the intense scholarly nature of the exchange. Reproducing it decades later would misrepresent the truth, and during that moment, Kundera interrupted with a candid prompt: what does the editor really think about the work?
The editor answered with a touch of embarrassment, admitting only two of Kundera’s books had been read, yet Spanish translations of The Joke had continued to circulate, still moving closer to the original Czech. The risk was clear: the editor had never seen the original Czech edition of The Joke or other Kundera works.
Kundera stepped into another room where Vera spoke with Toni in French, a conversation described as lively. Questions and responses followed about Toni’s language abilities and a French teacher who had mentored eleven siblings. The editor and Toni waited in a workspace that served as Kundera’s office, awaiting the outcome of the Czech dialogue between the author and his translator.
The narrator recalled being gently chided for audacity, certain that Kundera would not grant rights to the Spanish edition. Yet the couple entered smiling, and the outcome soon became widely known.
What followed was a discussion about the magnitude of the project. The translator Vera suggested a brief comparative study of translations in Italian, Spanish, and French, a scholarly exercise that felt like returning to school. The editor asked that the manuscript not be shared until a decision was reached, and a tiny “ticket” was offered as a sign of respect for the deal. Though the sign was never found, it remained a memory buried among stacks of correspondence and papers in a warehouse.
A concise study was produced, and the editor wondered where it ended up. A note with the name Fernando de Valenzuela, the regular Czech-to-Spanish translator, indicated that Kundera’s works had always been rendered into Spanish by this translator, starting with The Joke.
The dialogue revealed a dynamic relationship between Kundera and his editors. The bond, though imperfect at times, remained cordial and collaborative over the years. Kundera’s discussions with luminaries such as Carlos Fuentes, Julio Cortázar, and Gabriel García Márquez in Prague are well remembered. During the Prague Spring of 1968, Kundera formed friendships with Cortázar and Fuentes, enjoying a hopeful moment before the arrival of Soviet tanks.
Legend says that Fuentes, then the Mexican ambassador in Paris, played a role in delivering Kundera’s novel to Claude Gallimard, the publisher who would later become central to the book’s life in France. The editor recalled how Kundera’s interest in the publisher’s catalog sparked a new conversation, hinting at future collaborations with Ionesco, Beckett, and Emil Cioran, among others.
The discussion then turned to the relationship with Marguerite Duras. The latest Tusquets catalog once noted Duras’s distinctive presence, her character, and her departure from Lindon. The editor described the editor-editor dynamic, noting that while Lindon remained loyal to Duras and Gallimard in equal measure, tensions arose when commercial concerns and strategic choices divided the houses. Duras’s treatment of North China Lover was a sore point for Lindon, who viewed any sequel as opportunistic. The editor observed that a mature, enduring relationship with Lindon endured, anchored in mutual respect and shared literary passion.
Looking back, the editor recalled discovering Duras anew in the early 1980s through a slim Lindon publication in a Paris bookstore. It was a breakthrough work from a time when the author’s style, with its abrupt rhythm and stark language, felt groundbreaking yet intimate. The encounter reminded the editor of the joy of discovering literature and the enduring thrill of a well-placed book in the shelves of a venerable collection.