{"id":425062,"date":"2019-08-30T09:00:27","date_gmt":"2019-08-30T13:00:27","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/?p=425062"},"modified":"2019-08-31T07:43:20","modified_gmt":"2019-08-31T11:43:20","slug":"four-by-four-by-sara-mesa-an-edited-excerpt","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/2019\/08\/30\/four-by-four-by-sara-mesa-an-edited-excerpt\/","title":{"rendered":"“Four by Four” by Sara Mesa [An Edited Excerpt]"},"content":{"rendered":"

Information about Katie Whittemore’s translation of<\/em> Four by Four <\/a>by Sara Mesa<\/a> has been floating around this website (and my twitter) since the beginning of the year. January was “Spain Month” and featured an interview with Katie<\/a> and an early excerpt of\u00a0<\/a><\/em>Four by Four<\/a>.<\/p>\n

Well, by the middle of September, advanced reader copies of the novel will be shipping to booksellers and reviewers across the country, the cover will have been officially unveiled (I want to include it below, but\u00a0<\/em>Spine\u00a0is orchestrating a special cover reveal, because this cover is the bomb), and we’ll be plotting out Sara’s spring tour. And although the book doesn’t come out until May, you can preorder it today<\/a> and get 40% off by using WITMONTH at checkout. (Also: Go bug your local independent and tell them to order a STACK of these.)\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

You’ll find the catalog copy and excerpt below, but I don’t want to bury the lede: The excerpt below is the result of a rather intensive editing process. We ended up reading almost the entire book aloud, figuring out voices for the various levels of the narration, making sure the subtle humor came through, focusing on various patterns we found in the text, and removing all unnecessary stiffness in the prose. I say “we,” but really, I mean Katie. I encouraged her and brought up specific questions, but this is all her work.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Although people seem to prefer scandalous stories of bully editors and tone deaf publishers, I wanted to share this here because I think that the editorial process for translations can be extremely rewarding for everyone involved. Editing tends to be invisible\u2014which makes sense and is perfectly just\u2014but since you can read Katie’s first<\/a> and final drafts, anyone who’s interested in the process can compare and contrast these and get a sense of what we were trying to accomplish.\u00a0<\/em><\/p>\n

Enjoy!<\/em><\/p>\n

“Sara Mesa. Don\u2019t forget that name. The finalist for the 30th Premio Herralde de Novela. Read it. Share it. Talk about it. Open the book and begin. You won\u2019t be able to put it down.”\u2014Uxue, Un libro al d\u00eda<\/em><\/p>\n

Set entirely at Wybrany College\u2014a school where the wealthy keep their kids safe from the chaos erupting in the cities\u2014Four by Four<\/em> is a novel of insinuation and gossip, in which the truth about Wybrany\u2019s \u201cprogram\u201d is always palpable, but never explicit. The mysteries populating the novel open with the disappearance of one of the \u201cspecial,\u201d scholarship students. As the first part unfolds, it becomes clear that all is not well in Wybrany, and that something more sordid lurks beneath the surface.<\/p>\n

In the second part\u2014a self-indulgent, wry diary written by an imposter who has infiltrated the school as a substitute teacher\u2014the eerie sense of what\u2019s happening in this space removed from society, becomes more acute and potentially sinister.<\/p>\n

An exploration of the relationship between the powerful and powerless\u2014and the repetition of these patterns\u2014Mesa\u2019s “sophisticated nightmare” calls to mind great works of gothic literature (think Shirley Jackson) and social thrillers to create a unique, unsettling view of freedom and how a fear of the outside world can create monsters.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Four by Four<\/em><\/a> by Sara Mesa, translated from the Spanish by Katie Whittemore<\/strong><\/p>\n

Part One<\/strong><\/p>\n

Never More Than Two Hundred<\/strong><\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

CELIA<\/strong><\/p>\n

The contour of the landscape curves, fades, and descends before dissolving in the distance. We are there, at the end, paused and panting under the motionless sky. It\u2019s February and still cold. The air cuts off our breath, attacks Teeny\u2019s lungs. She\u2019s been sick for weeks.<\/p>\n

We\u2019ve never made it this far. Our sneakers are soaked from walking in the muddy grass, avoiding the roads.<\/p>\n

We wait for Teeny to catch up and then reconvene.<\/p>\n

\u201cShould we have breakfast now?\u201d Valen asks.<\/p>\n

Her chubby cheeks tremble. Valen is always hungry. The rest of us protest. It\u2019s not time to eat. We only stopped to decide where to go from here, from now. There is no time to waste; we\u2019ll eat later, while we walk. Or we won\u2019t eat at all.<\/p>\n

We have two options: climb the hill until we reach the highway or follow the slope down and try to find the river. Though river is probably an exaggeration. Memory summons to mind a brown thread\u2014a creek, at best\u2014but not its exact location. None of them have been through here in years.<\/p>\n

\u201cI say we head for the highway. Then we can hitchhike wherever someone will take us.\u201d Marina sounds braver than she acts. We\u2019re not convinced.<\/p>\n

I speak up. \u201cHitchhike? Are you crazy? They would bring us right back.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe river is safer,\u201d Cristi says.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut we don\u2019t know where it is!\u201d says Marina.<\/p>\n

Cristi shrugs. Valen tries again, reaching for her backpack. \u201cWe could eat while we decide.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you think, Teeny?\u201d I ask.<\/p>\n

She looks up. Squints. The lenses of her glasses are fogged over. She coughs again. She coughs and blinks endlessly. Her nose runs. She\u2019s full of fluid, Teeny is. I don\u2019t even wait for her to respond. I speak for her: \u201cTeeny doesn\u2019t care what we do as long as we do it quick. Sitting around in this cold is going to kill her.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think she should eat something,\u201d Valen says.<\/p>\n

\u201cShut up, you greasy fat ass,\u201d Cristi says.<\/p>\n

They fight. First, with insults. Then they throw themselves on the wet ground and roll around, theatrically, half-heartedly. Marina goads them. It\u2019s not clear whose side she\u2019s on. Teeny and I wait. She thinks about nothing and I try to think about everything.<\/p>\n

It doesn\u2019t matter. I see them coming in the 4×4, up the narrow, dusty path. They\u2019re coming toward us and there we are, stopped, as stopped as time. I get a rush: anticipating a lecture from the Booty or punishment from the Headmaster makes me feel better.<\/p>\n

A quail chirps in the distance. Valen and Cristi get up, brush off their clothes, and look me in the eye. Neither one speaks, but I know they both blame me.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

IGNACIO<\/strong><\/p>\n

Wybrany College, seven o\u2019clock in the evening. Ten, twelve boys in gym clothes hang around to see what\u2019s happening. Silence has filled the courtyard at the entrance to the school. Night is falling and H\u00e9ctor enters escorted by his parents, the Head, and the Advisor. He walks past the boys, glancing up and looking at Ignacio. At him, only him. The look is unmistakable, direct.<\/p>\n

Ignacio trembles. The crunch of steps on the gravel lingers. He observes the back of H\u00e9ctor, his head of full, blonde hair, the smooth nape of his neck.<\/p>\n

Only when he\u2019s shaken roughly does he realize that they\u2019ve been grumbling in his ear the whole time, and he hasn\u2019t heard a thing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m talking to you, man, can\u2019t you hear me?<\/p>\n

Ignacio nods, craning slightly toward the door through which the New Kid has disappeared.<\/p>\n

The mother\u2014the woman he assumes is the mother\u2014is outside, closing her umbrella. She has slender calves and iridescent stockings beaded with drizzle. Lux watches her, too, his head cocked and back arched, ready to flee at the slightest movement.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s November 1st<\/sup>. Ignacio\u2019s birthday: twelve years old and finally the prospect of a friend to protect him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI said, what do you think of him?\u201d the other boy insists.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do I know? I just saw him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut he looks queer, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah. Queer.\u201d<\/p>\n

Ignacio senses the light is different, more yellow, or hazy. He can\u2019t watch H\u00e9ctor and listen at the same time, but they keep at him and their insistence becomes a command.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy queer?\u201d the other boy presses.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean, why? You said it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, but why? Why did you say it, too? What do you know about that?\u201d<\/p>\n

A rueful smile breaks on Ignacio\u2019s face. Caught again, he thinks, but who cares, he\u2019ll finally have a friend to protect him. The New Kid is tall, he\u2019s strong, and out of all the faces there in the courtyard, he chose to look at Ignacio\u2019s.<\/p>\n

The girls\u2019 laughter reaches him from the other side of the wall, a restless laughter, musical. He yearns for girls, but only as classmates.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause he laughs like a girl.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, so you\u2019ve heard him laugh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, before. When he got here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cReally? Where?\u201d<\/p>\n

He frees himself from the arm that grabs him.<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know, before. Let go of me, I have to get to class.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cClass? Classes are over.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust let me go,\u201d he begs.<\/p>\n

\u201cCripple, sissy, fucking fag,\u201d the other boy says, releasing him.<\/p>\n

Ignacio hobbles away in his raised shoe with the lift. Laughter screeches at his back.<\/p>\n

Real or imagined, Ignacio hears it all the time.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

HECTOR\u2019S ORIGINS<\/strong><\/p>\n

But the New Kid\u2019s origins go back to some time before, to weeks before, days before; not that time matters much in this place, where the days are so like one another. They accumulate, piling up, \u00a0creating a sense of continuity, movement, or the evolution of something.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s important to note, perhaps, that H\u00e9ctor isn\u2019t present on this occasion. Just his mother, or the woman who looks like the mother, and the father\u2014him, for sure\u2014in the Headmaster\u2019s office. They are joined by the assistant headmistress of school, alias the Booty.<\/p>\n

The office doesn\u2019t seem like an office. It\u2019s more like a magnificent living room, with its crystal chandeliers and perfectly-worn Persian rugs\u2014so vulgar, if too new\u2014and gleaming floor-to-ceiling windows, the glass spotless and free of flies.<\/p>\n

Seated in leather armchairs around a low table, they speak for a long time with the particular stiffness to which they are accustomed.<\/p>\n

The Booty\u2014who was very beautiful in another time\u2014discreetly keeps her distance. Only when necessary does she add an opportune fact, blinking before she speaks. In general, such facts relate to fees, services, and requirements, details of which the Headmaster is ignorant, given that he delegates this minutia to her.<\/p>\n

The tone of the conversation is sickly-sweet, good manners, slightly soured.<\/p>\n

The office smells like cologne. Which cologne? Impossible to say. A mix of various scents: those worn by the people now present, and by those who are absent. The people who sat where they are now, finalizing the details of their progeny\u2019s matriculation.<\/p>\n

The scent of the elite, one could say if it weren\u2019t an oversimplification, since that isn\u2019t exactly \u00a0the case. But one couldn\u2019t claim the opposite is true, either.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou do realize we\u2019re making an exception . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe know, we know,\u201d H\u00e9ctor\u2019s father says.<\/p>\n

He moves his hands to accentuate his words, like he did when he was a government minister. Unnecessary rhetorical emphasis.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt will be more expensive\u2014due to the exception, you understand\u2014still, you insist this is what you want?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, we insist. It\u2019s absolutely critical.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThough it won\u2019t be easy for us, getting rid of the boy,\u201d the woman adds.<\/p>\n

\u201cGetting rid of <\/em>isn\u2019t quite the right expression,\u201d the father says. His eyes flash. He looks at his wife and she goes quiet.<\/p>\n

The Booty smiles at them both. They shouldn\u2019t feel uncomfortable, so she says: language betrays us all. Parents undeniably feel a sense of relief when they enroll their children at the college; it happens to everyone. Bringing up a child is complicated, an act of responsibility demanding extreme dedication. There\u2019s nothing wrong with leaving a piece of it in the hands of experts.<\/p>\n

\u201cH\u00e9ctor is a brilliant boy,\u201d the woman continues, speaking cautiously now. \u201cVery intelligent, headstrong, a bit mischievous, maybe. He always finds a way to make his uniform unique somehow: a patch, a hole, a button pinned somewhere. As you know, he needs to do things his way.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAh, but that\u2019s good,\u201d the Headmaster says. \u201cThat\u2019s very good. It speaks of character, strength of character, manliness. We don\u2019t go overboard on rules here. Strict on the fundamentals, flexible on incidentals. Our educational methods are liberal, they\u2019re based in absolute freedom. Will you have some . . .\u201d He turns to look at Lux, who has just slipped through the bars on the window, \u201c. . . coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n

They drink from little porcelain cups, served with biscuits they barely nibble. Then they settle the rest: the registration, monthly payments, additional installments. The visitors express their surprise that rooms are shared, but nod sensibly at the explanation.<\/p>\n

\u201cAt this age, boys on their own are hard to control,\u201d says the Booty. \u201cThis way they keep an eye on each other. It\u2019s not to their benefit to be alone in their free time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cObviously some boarding schools make private rooms a mainstay of their appeal,\u201d the Headmaster continues, \u201cprecisely because they have nothing else to offer. Special menus, the latest technology, professional sports facilities, blah, blah, blah . . . They\u2019re only focused on the superfluous aspects. We guarantee a sufficient level of material comfort. Not excellent, perhaps, but sufficient. But we also guarantee an extraordinarily high-quality education, which goes far beyond academics. We do not impose discipline: the children impose it on themselves. Rigorous, not rigid. Firm, not harsh. Personalities are sculpted, polished until they shine. The country\u2019s best have passed through here. We know how to shape the best.\u201d<\/p>\n

He carefully cleans his beard with a napkin and waits for a reaction. The couple smiles. They are notably, visibly relaxed.<\/p>\n

An agreement has been reached.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Information about Katie Whittemore’s translation of Four by Four by Sara Mesa has been floating around this website (and my twitter) since the beginning of the year. January was “Spain Month” and featured an interview with Katie and an early excerpt of\u00a0Four by Four. Well, by the middle of September, advanced reader copies of the […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":292,"featured_media":424832,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[67486],"tags":[69552,69262,69562],"class_list":["post-425062","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-articles","tag-four-by-four","tag-katie-whittemore","tag-sara-mesa"],"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/425062","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/292"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=425062"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/425062\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":425092,"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/425062\/revisions\/425092"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/424832"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=425062"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=425062"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rochester.edu\/College\/translation\/threepercent\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=425062"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}