I started translating Galician literature in 1993, three years after graduating from Oxford in Classics. I have since translated 69 Galician books by a total of 33 writers, as well as three anthologies. But I had three masters. The first was Rosalía de Castro, the first author I translated professionally (meaning I was paid). I was asked by the Secretariat for Language Policy in 1993 to translate the opening section of her book New Leaves, “Vaguedás”. I was then hired by the Ramón Piñeiro Centre to translate both her major works of Galician poetry, Galician Songs and New Leaves, between 1994 and 1996, which I did, continuing (unpaid) until 1997. When friends in Lugo used to ask where I was, the answer would often be, “Ah, he’s with Rosalía.” This translation is where I cut my teeth. It was never published, but it did enable me to be the editor of Canadian writer Erín Moure’s translation of the same two books for my publishing house, Small Stations Press, in 2013 and 2016. I am still influenced by Rosalía’s metres in my writing today.

My second master was Rafael Dieste. I felt a strong affinity to this writer, his elegant style and cavernous asides. His book of short stories From the Imp’s Archives is the only book I have translated more than once. In fact I have translated it four times. I played the role of the author in a production put on by my friend and teacher Camilo F. Valdehorras with the theatre group AUGATEBA in Barcelona in 1995. I entered the auditorium in Barcelona University dressed as an English gentleman, with a newspaper under my arm, reciting (in Galician) the story “The Light in Silence”. I still remember the silence that hung in the air when I finished. We even recorded “The Knight’s Drama” for radio – I played the role of the White Knight, a dreamer.

My third master was Manuel Rivas. The translation of his novel The Carpenter’s Pencil was my first contract with a publishing house in London, The Harvill Press (I received a letter in the post asking me to translate it from the unfailingly polite editor, Euan Cameron). I would go on to translate nine titles by Manuel Rivas, six for The Harvill Press (which became Harvill Secker and then Penguin Random House). These included six novels, two collections of short stories and one book of poetry. The one that required the greatest stamina was Books Burn Badly. I had to maintain the tension, to live with the book, for ten months. This is why I always say it’s harder translating fiction than poetry, because you have to keep the tension going for that much longer (a poem is normally over in a matter of pages; the English-language edition of Books Burn Badly is 560 pages). I have a soft spot for The Potato Eaters, but the one I would take to a desert island is the last I translated, The Low Voices, an autobiographical novel that is incredibly moving.

These are my three masters, the ones I learnt most from. Well, now my (fourth) translation of eight of the twenty stories in From the Imp’s Archives has seen the light for the first time as part of the project “Seara”, housed and funded by the Consello da Cultura Galega, described as “an open project for an international community of readers” and aimed, like my publishing house, at making Galician literature more widely available. This project is the brainchild of that great lover of all things Galician Kathleen March.

It is amazing how often I catch myself hearing echoes of Dieste’s stories in everyday speech or in my thoughts. A turn of phrase, a strange situation, a jolt that brings you back to reality or transports you far away… These are eight of my favourite stories by one of my top five writers. The stories are magical, funny, and they do not fade with time.

They can be read here in both Galician and English.