2023 PEN Award for Poetry in Translation, finalist. First book in English showcasing the life and writings of Bolivia's most celebrated writer and educator, Adela Zamudio (1854-1928). Her birthday is a national holiday in Bolivia. Self-taught, Zamudio was the mother of feminism and women's education in Bolivia, and was active for Indigenous People's rights. The President of Bolivia crowned her with gold laurel leaves in honor of her cultural contributions. Adela Zamudio: Selected Poetry & Prose, translated from the Spanish by Lynette Yetter, presents a bilingual overview of Zamudio's work, much of which was previously untranslated. Several chapters, including the Prologue by Bolivian Zamudio scholar Virginia Ayllón, outline Zamudio's biography and the cultural context in which she wrote. Adela Zamudio's celebration of lesbian love and her ironic cultural critiques continue to resonate today.
I applaud Yetter's efforts to commemorate Adela Zamudio's groundbreaking feminist work in Bolivia and to grant English-language audiences access to her ideas. I'm glad this book exists, and I'm grateful for the introduction it gave me to Zamudio's life and writing, but I wanted more out of the introduction(s), annotations (there's only one footnote in the book, there to assure readers that Zamudio was probably not racist against people of African descent), and translator's afterword. The afterword briefly summarizes a few of the feminist translation decisions Yetter made, then moves on to provide a cursory close reading of Zamudio's story "Yesterday's Meeting," an animal allegory whose ideas and symbolism are already self-evident; I would have been interested in a more in-depth examination of the aesthetic and formal decisions made during the translation process, especially since I found some of those decisions a bit vexing. Why use the pronoun "it" to describe the poet in "Poet," rather than the gender-neutral (yet still humanizing) "they"? Why then shift from "it" to "she" to describe the same figure within the same poem? Why only the one footnote, and are there not places where additional context from Bolivian history or culture could shed light on the content of Zamudio's writings? Also, given that Zamudio herself states in "The Poetic Olympics"-- a text that could use some explication that it doesn't receive-- that "verse is the only clothing worthy of Poetry" and that she seems to be dedicated to rhyme (her Spanish poetry generally adheres to a clear rhyme scheme), I wondered why Yetter did not make more of an effort to integrate at least sporadic rhyme into her translations.
I also found myself curious to learn more about which poems and writings made the cut for this edition, which did not, and why, and I sometimes had trouble following the logical, emotional, and syntactical progression of events/lines on the page, especially in "Iron Crazy Woman." And while I was touched by the translator's discussion of the deep personal connection she felt to Zamudio, her lifestyle, and her writing, I also found myself a little put off by her repeated mentions of her Reed College Master's thesis, in which this edition originated.
Zamudio's critique of ideas about "progress" is interesting, though, especially when linked-- as it is in Yetter's introduction-- to the Andean Cosmovision and to the Quechua and Aymara people's emphasis on "community and harmonious reciprocal relationships." I enjoyed the biting wit of some of her poems, especially those like "Born a Man" that comment directly on the arbitrariness and injustice of gender inequities. "Yesterday's Meeting" was an intriguing read, as well; under the clear-eyed guidance of a wise old woman/eagle, its animal protagonists decide to reject the inhumanity of human behavior and hierarchy.
"I, too, come to mix / the complaining notes / of my loose-stringed lyre into the worldly concert."
Landmark book! This book was a finalist for the prestigious 2023 PEN Award for Poetry in Translation. Here is the BookLife for Publisher's Weekly Editor's Pick review and the Kirkus Starred review.
BookLife Editor's Pick review: “There is a mysterious fire in her chest,” the groundbreaking feminist Bolivian poet Adela Zamudio (1854-1928) wrote in a work whose title declares, with blunt force, how she viewed herself: “Poet.” That “mysterious fire,” a few lines later, is called “sacred,” the “shard of a shattered soul,” and the very “blood of the heart.” For Zamuido, that fire was both Art itself and “the Idea,” and the act of pulling it out from one’s self and giving it voice in a society hostile to artists in general, poets in particular, and women above all else—well, that was an act of courage. Now, almost a century after her death, Zamuido’s rousing, visceral, defiant work is at last available to the English-speaking world, thanks to this searing, sensitive translation from Yetter.
Yetter’s choices—from individual word choices to her selections of poems and prose pieces—illuminate the sweep and heat of the fire in the poet’s chest. The pieces here reveal Zamuido’s passions, interests, beliefs, and career, from the powerfully explicated feminism of poems like “Born a Man,” to her handling of subjects like depression and the feeling that one must wear a false face in society. These verses feel urgent and timely, and poems like “Masquerade” could be about Instagram: “In the dance of the world /our joy / is a dazzling garment /of fantasy / we use to cover /the hidden sadness / we repress.”
Even poems with traditional romantic forms and subjects (“To a Seagull,” “To a Tree”) pulse with a sense of fin-de-siècle ennui and, often, outrage about injustice, while one literally titled “End of a Century” builds to the bleak punchline of what “admirable and blessed” science has bequeathed us: the knowledge that, after our sufferings on Earth, we face the void. The long, surprising “Iron Crazy Woman,” meanwhile, and a poem of love for Zamuido’s sister, offer crucial consolations: the mystery and artistry of the former, and the deep feeling of the latter.
Takeaway: Trailblazing poems from a Bolivian feminist in English at long last.
Production grades Cover: A Design and typography: A Illustrations: N/A Editing: A Marketing copy: A
KIRKUS Starred review:
A collection of writings from Bolivian poet, essayist, and feminist activist Zamudio (1854-1928) addresses enduring social issues.
Though the bulk of the author’s body of work, which spans poetry, prose, and nonfiction, dates back a century or more (the pieces here were originally published between 1887 and 1942), it’s only recently that political and social conditions have renewed interest in her writings and facilitated their translations for a global audience. This collection has two sections, one for poetry and one for prose, focused on themes including feminism (“Born a Man”), Indigenous identity and revolution (“End of the Century”), mental health (“To a Suicide”), and the viability of a battered society (“Masquerade”)—subjects that Zamudio grappled with as a woman far ahead of her time, culturally speaking. Yetter’s translations aptly retain the exigencies of the author’s writing, though the poems do lose their rhyme schemes in English. In the prose section, Zamudio employs an almost epistolary, introspective style to document many of Bolivia’s societal and political foibles; one story—“Yesterday’s Meeting”—uses an animal motif (much like George Orwell later used in Animal Farm (1945)) to relay bureaucratic tensions and flaws in democracy. Zamudio employs the struggles of women and Indigenous people as fodder, both for her own work and for broader revolution. Her imagery is both whimsical and grounded, optimistic and learned; as she writes in “Poet,” “it is necessary that she must dive into / Life’s most bitter dregs; / To know horrid misfortune / And rugged paths; / Hurt by life’s cliffs and thistles, / Wounded by the shocks of life. / That is inspiration!” We watch and read the news to understand what’s going on in the world, but we also seek out art to contextualize how all these events make us feel and show us how to get through them; Zamudio’s work serves these purposes brilliantly.
* Bolivia Finalist for the 2023 PEN Award for Poetry in Translation, Adela Zamudio: Selected Poetry & Prose is the first book in English showcasing the life and writings of Bolivia's most celebrated writer and educator, Adela Zamudio (1854-1928). Zamudio's birthday is a national holiday in Bolivia. Self-taught, Zamudio was the mother of feminism and women's education in Bolivia, and was active for Indigenous People's rights. The President of Bolivia crowned her with gold laurel leaves in honor of her cultural contributions. So when a group member in Around the World reading challenge suggested it, it was a perfect choice especially as I wanted to include more poetry. What I enjoyed about this book was how the poems and prose uses allegory through animals, birds, flora & fauna, she gets across her political, equality and feminism beliefs through strongly this way making for a very thought provoking and reflective read.
Landmark book! This book was a finalist for the prestigious 2023 PEN Award for Poetry in Translation. Here is the BookLife for Publisher's Weekly Editor's Pick review and the Kirkus Starred review.
BookLife Editor's Pick review: “There is a mysterious fire in her chest,” the groundbreaking feminist Bolivian poet Adela Zamudio (1854-1928) wrote in a work whose title declares, with blunt force, how she viewed herself: “Poet.” That “mysterious fire,” a few lines later, is called “sacred,” the “shard of a shattered soul,” and the very “blood of the heart.” For Zamuido, that fire was both Art itself and “the Idea,” and the act of pulling it out from one’s self and giving it voice in a society hostile to artists in general, poets in particular, and women above all else—well, that was an act of courage. Now, almost a century after her death, Zamuido’s rousing, visceral, defiant work is at last available to the English-speaking world, thanks to this searing, sensitive translation from Yetter.
Yetter’s choices—from individual word choices to her selections of poems and prose pieces—illuminate the sweep and heat of the fire in the poet’s chest. The pieces here reveal Zamuido’s passions, interests, beliefs, and career, from the powerfully explicated feminism of poems like “Born a Man,” to her handling of subjects like depression and the feeling that one must wear a false face in society. These verses feel urgent and timely, and poems like “Masquerade” could be about Instagram: “In the dance of the world /our joy / is a dazzling garment /of fantasy / we use to cover /the hidden sadness / we repress.”
Even poems with traditional romantic forms and subjects (“To a Seagull,” “To a Tree”) pulse with a sense of fin-de-siècle ennui and, often, outrage about injustice, while one literally titled “End of a Century” builds to the bleak punchline of what “admirable and blessed” science has bequeathed us: the knowledge that, after our sufferings on Earth, we face the void. The long, surprising “Iron Crazy Woman,” meanwhile, and a poem of love for Zamuido’s sister, offer crucial consolations: the mystery and artistry of the former, and the deep feeling of the latter.
Takeaway: Trailblazing poems from a Bolivian feminist in English at long last.
Production grades Cover: A Design and typography: A Illustrations: N/A Editing: A Marketing copy: A
KIRKUS Starred review:
A collection of writings from Bolivian poet, essayist, and feminist activist Zamudio (1854-1928) addresses enduring social issues.
Though the bulk of the author’s body of work, which spans poetry, prose, and nonfiction, dates back a century or more (the pieces here were originally published between 1887 and 1942), it’s only recently that political and social conditions have renewed interest in her writings and facilitated their translations for a global audience. This collection has two sections, one for poetry and one for prose, focused on themes including feminism (“Born a Man”), Indigenous identity and revolution (“End of the Century”), mental health (“To a Suicide”), and the viability of a battered society (“Masquerade”)—subjects that Zamudio grappled with as a woman far ahead of her time, culturally speaking. Yetter’s translations aptly retain the exigencies of the author’s writing, though the poems do lose their rhyme schemes in English. In the prose section, Zamudio employs an almost epistolary, introspective style to document many of Bolivia’s societal and political foibles; one story—“Yesterday’s Meeting”—uses an animal motif (much like George Orwell later used in Animal Farm (1945)) to relay bureaucratic tensions and flaws in democracy. Zamudio employs the struggles of women and Indigenous people as fodder, both for her own work and for broader revolution. Her imagery is both whimsical and grounded, optimistic and learned; as she writes in “Poet,” “it is necessary that she must dive into / Life’s most bitter dregs; / To know horrid misfortune / And rugged paths; / Hurt by life’s cliffs and thistles, / Wounded by the shocks of life. / That is inspiration!” We watch and read the news to understand what’s going on in the world, but we also seek out art to contextualize how all these events make us feel and show us how to get through them; Zamudio’s work serves these purposes brilliantly.