Tony Crawford was born in Milwaukee and studied Comparative Literature with French in Los Angeles and lives in Berlin. His translation work has been recognized by New Books in German’s Emerging Translators Programme, No Man’s Land magazine, Berlin, and the DAAD/IMLR Encounters competition.
Selection of translated titles:
- Navid Kermani, God is Beautiful (Gott ist schön). Polity Press, 2015.
- Navid Kermani, Between Quran and Kafka (Zwischen Koran und Kafka). Polity Press, 2016.
- Navid Kermani, Upheaval (Einbruch der Wirklichkeit). Polity Press, 2017.
Three questions to Tony Crawford:
Why did you choose to become a translator? Is it the profession you always wanted?
As a young man I had no clear vocation. But I had a certain talent for language, which I eventually discovered is a talent for multiple languages. Now my work involves reading books, connecting ideas and playing with words, so you might say I do for a living what I have always enjoyed most.
Which German book do you like the best and why?
One book? I’m especially partial to autobiographical narrative. Not because it’s true – everybody lies – but because it has a peculiar urgency; the teller’s interest in the tale is existential. And that gives the narrative, regardless of style, a sense of immediacy, makes it human, compassionate, direct. Also, life is perhaps the best inventor of plot: reality gets away with improbable twists that create their own necessity while defying plausibility. Like the existence of human life in the first place. I like Fritz Mühlenweg’s wanderings and meetings in the Gobi desert; I like Christa Wolf’s reflective season on the Pacific coast in Los Angeles; I like Oskar Maria Graf’s profligate dilettantism in the Bavarian entre-guerre.
Is there a particular book you would like to translate?
I am sure there is. It is narrative, but its diction and its style are poetic; it is European in scope; it is personal, urgent and political; it may be contemporary or historic, but in either case it looks towards the past and the future, inward and outward, with a unifying spirit. Until I find it, I am pecking away at a translation of Franz Jung’s memoir, Der Weg nach unten. Jung was a duellist, a deserter, a pianist, a pirate, a Dadaist, a journalist, a revolutionary, a management consultant, a theatre producer, a secret agent, a swindler … A desperate man, batted back and forth between revolutionary hope and an innate self-fulfilling pessimism; not someone I’d like to know personally. Like his novels – like his life – his autobiography is an attempt to make sense of a world that was stark raving mad.