Relevance of Anna Burns’ Milkman emphasized with its Sinhala translation

Nowadays are dragon riddled;/ The nightmare rides upon sleep;

A drunken soldier can leave the mother/ Murdered at her door

To crawl in her own blood. /And go scot free

by Y B Yeats

The quote was given me by Dr Lakshmi de Silva when I telephoned her to request her permission to mention her review of Swarnakanti Rajapakse’s translation of Anna Burns’ searingly written historical psychological novel on the troubles of Northern Ireland, published in May 2018. Swarnakanati’s translation, titled (in Sinhala of course) ‘Milkman Navakathawa’, highly commended by Dr Lakshmi de Silva, is more recent and it must be said that Swarnakanti is to be praised unstintingly for translating a complex book on a complex period of time with complexities of human psychology conveyed accurately. Most difficult it is, I suppose, to translate humour, particularly subtle and bitter humour as Burns introduces in her book. Is it any wonder that Swarnakanti won a literary award for her earlier translation of the massive ‘Anna Karenina’?

I wrote a comment on the book ‘Milkman’ and on Burns in this column in 2018 soon after she won the Booker Prize for the best work of fiction of the previous year. It also won the National Book Critics Circle Award for fiction as well as the 2020 International Dublin Literary Award. It was this Irish woman’s third novel. As the Irish Independent notes: “It’s an astute, exquisite account of Northern Ireland’s social landscape but Milkman is much more than that too … a potent and urgent book, with more than a hint of barely contained fury.” To quote another review: “Possibly the best novel from or about Northern Ireland in a decade. Certainly the one which peels back the skin of insidious sectarianism with shocking frankness…”

‘Milkman’ not at all an ordinary supplier of milk is a mysterious figure that somewhat stalks an 18-year old Irish girl amid troubled times. It received strongly positive reviews, with critics mostly praising the book’s narration, atmosphere, humor, and its complex portrayal of Northern Irish socio-politics. Dr Lakshmi de Silva commented that the translator to Sinhala – Swarnakanti – captured most of it.

Relevance:

The reader of this column may wonder why I titled my piece “Relevance….” since Sri Lanka is no longer under British colonialism, nor suffering violence at the hand of terrorists – both LTTE and JVP. Rather are we in the throes and thrall of Nature striking back with the raging Covid 9 pandemic and weather somewhat gone awry even in our sunny island.

But terrorism is always present. “This darkly comic novel, set in the seventies, takes place in a ‘hair trigger society’ of bomb scares, hijackings, protracted conflict.” Aren’t we in Sri Lanka so very familiar with these, and worse? During peace that followed the end of the civil war in 2009, we suffered further through political machination of white van abductions, killings, torturing, FEAR.

We had a violent taste of it on Easter Sunday 2019. Any day a mob of protestors – even teachers and principals of schools – could go berserk. Some fear we are on the way to becoming a colony of China with its ruthless government practices. Our own army is truly helpful and merciful now, rendering such polite help to millions being vaccinated. But it could be led and misdirected by a politician or military man going totally power hungry and resisting, nay over-riding the will and vote of the people. Terror occurs in isolated but far too many situations such as raping and setting fire to a poor innocent servant girl; even verbally sexually harassing women parliamentarians. Thus very unfortunately with human nature being so diverse, explosive and prone to violence, we are never safe and could easily experience cold fear like the 18-year old unnamed Irish girl in the novel ‘Milkman’.

Second relevance

A review I read said that ‘Milkman’ appeared to be up against better books. But chairman of the Booker judges, Kwame Anthony Appiah, judged thus: “…’its focus on men abusing power and what happens when rumors spiral out of control gives it wide resonance.”

As my evidence of the novel and its translation being relevant to us are the phrases “men abusing power” and “rumors spiral out of control”. We definitely suffer the male abuse of power in the home, in offices, in villages, in schools and universities, and even in Parliament. I cannot but mention the GMOA acquiring the A-Z vaccine held for a second dose for those inoculated in Feb/March; pradeshiya sabha members raping, even murdering (case at the Tangalla resort when a Britisher was killed); the passing of laws, rules and orders, now even verbally, that may not be in the best interests of the public, helpless to protest or protesting uselessly, like permitting by word of mouth the rape of forests and acquisition of land by those with political power; banning import of essential inorganic fertilizer. We also see how offenders of dire crimes go free due to being politically powerful or have political influence. It may not be the British Army crushing the Irish, nor avowed terrorist here in our country, but the drug mafia and ruffians covered by political clout are fearful, to mention but two menaces.

Needless to say social media and careless talk do create trouble even at present times, or even more so.

Third relevance to me is that Burns deals with a large family of first brother-in-law (suspect from page 1), second sister and third brother-in-law (good) and others which meant her fiction-family was large and of course not well off. We had large families when we were young and never called brothers-in-law by given name but Loku Aiya etc. None have names in Milkman, not even the narrator. Thus it is somewhat Good Earth like and resonates with us who often don’t use names to refer to relatives, first names at least. She does not even name the chap she hangs out with; he is maybe-boyfriend. Thus the translation particularly may resonate with the Sinhala readers who may feel proud of their family traditions.

The style of writing and language used are unique, yet to me friendly familiar. Page 3 has this:” So he spoke his words as we were going along one of the sides of the top-end reservoir…(That is so like an expression we locals use -‘almirah top’, ‘shoe bottom’). She writes: “Why was he presuming I didn’t mind him beside me when I did mind him beside me… I didn’t have those other thoughts until later, and I don’t mean an hour later, I mean twenty years later.” Thus with Swarnakanti catching and transferring these nuances of language and connotation in her translation, it will surely delight readers,

I must admit that in the original book, the style of writing being different to the usual, easy going narration we are familiar with, calls for getting used to. The language gets in the way until we become familiar with it and appreciate it. You savour the style and language as you savour the unraveling of the plot. It is very much a stream-of-consciousness narration.

As the Booker chief judge said. “But ‘Milkman’ also stood out thanks to Burns’ unique voice. There are moments when I had to read it out loud, just for the pleasure of it, the way it sounds.” He is said to have read it in a bad Ulster accent!

Thus the final relevance: the translation to Sinhala of an excellent modern book, though it surely would have proven extra difficult to translate – turn of phrase, humour, nuances and all. We have many translations of the classics like Dickens et al. Here is a different sort of novel made available to the Sinhala reading public. Praise be to Anna Burns of course, and then to Swarnakanti Rajapakse for ‘Milkman Navakathawa’ and to Dr Lakshmi de Silva for making known the translation to the English readership by having published her incisive critique of the translation a couple of weeks ago.