In the UK, they’re debating (at interminable length) whether they should start using the euro or not. Well, here are some statistics, relevant in a vague way to the issue, taken from an El País article published last Sunday. In 2001, 67,012 books were published in Spain, of which 25.4% were from other languages. In France, 54,415 books, of which 17.6% were translated. In Italy, the figures were 55,546 and 26%. In England, says the article, the figures were 125,000 books, of which a whopping 1.6% were translations. Impressive, I think you’ll agree. Barcelona-based agent Antonia Kerrigan calls the UK a punto negro as regards translations. That’s the UK: there’s an article about the situation in the United States here that I cited a couple of months ago, and that I now cite again. New York journalist K.A. Dilday finishes the article: “When the Soviet Union collapsed, the Berlin Wall came down and the US ascended, Francis Fukuyama speculated that it might mean “the end of history.” The phrase well describes the domesticity that has landlocked the U.S. publishing industry, and the intellectual and moral complacency that has allowed the American public to accept it.” Please, somebody, tell me that these figures - these commentators - are wrong. If you can’t, at least have a look at the newly-designed Babelguides and buy something from one of the seemingly few houses out there in the English-speaking world that are daring enough to take on foreign fiction. And while you’re visiting, please put my name forward to write the Babel Guide to Spanish Literature – it doesn’t seem to exist yet, but surely it should. This has been a totally disinterested public service announcement.
By the way: that antipático mechanic's invoice from a few days ago came to €118. The truth is that I’m so ignorant about the mechanics of automobiles that I don’t know whether I've been ripped off or not.
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