Wûf is one of the most interesting books to come out in translation this year. It tells the story of a conflict through the perspective of a dog. You can read our full review of it here. We got an opportunity to ask some questions to the writer Kemal Varol to ask him some questions about his book. We also got the chance to put some questions to the translator Dayla Rogers.

Luke: Could you start by telling me a little bit about your background and how you got into writing?

Kemal: I was born in 1977 in a small town that I have often chosen as a literary setting for my stories and novels. I am the youngest of eight children. My mother didn’t know any Turkish, but my father knew a bit. He worked repairing railroad lines, a job in which he wouldn’t need Turkish. My mother and father were both very literate in oral culture. My childhood was spent in a fairytale world with the help of the dozens of Kurdish stories they told and the dengbêj, a traditional musical storyteller that is unique to Kurdish culture. My dad was a good storyteller, and my older brothers were interested in literature. In this respect, you could say I was a lucky kid. Later I became acquainted with modern literature through my brothers’ guidance. Later I also discovered the town library. My whole childhood and adolescence were spent madly desiring to read everything I could find in that library. Though I always preferred novels, I wanted to start my writing career as a poet. All the way until my early thirties, I was known as a poet. After publishing three books of poetry, I felt that poems were not enough to write about what I wanted and I needed other literary forms. I’m a writer with things I want to say—both personally and socially. I never attributed any divine significance to one literary form over another. So, for me, it’s just about getting out what you need to say through writing. I was also always troubled by being an exophonic writer, that is, someone who writes in a language other than their native one. So, I made a life for myself out of writing. 

Luke: Wûf is an unusual book because it is told completely from the perspective of Dogs. It is a bit of an unfair question to ask a writer where their ideas come from, but I’d like to know where you think the idea of telling a story from the perspective of the dogs came from? 

Kemal: Wûf came about out of two necessities: The first I’ll discuss now. From the beginning, I was concerned with writing about the social problems that I witnessed from the sidelines and, in a sense, fell victim to. But my true interest was tackling this issue with a strong literary approach. I’m not a politician and I’ve never cared for politics. Some issues I try to grasp from a broader perspective. But at the same time, I was deeply interested in narrating the social problems in the land where I was born. When I began writing this book in 2013, the conflict in Turkey had de-escalated and all sections of society were looking to the future with hope. I wanted to write about the painful days of the 1990s, in particular, to commemorate the things that had happened so they wouldn’t happen again, perhaps to invite people to face history, and to come out strongly in support of peace. At the same time, I knew that apart from some specifics, the events described in the book are experienced all around the world. That is, I dreamt of a text that would go beyond an issue particular to this geography and address similar suffering that happens everywhere. But that was where the real challenge began. When I first started writing the conflict, I realized that the different sides kept projecting their own realities onto the text. The two sides kept talking about how righteous and powerful they were. So, I wasn’t satisfied with the work I produced and searched for a different way. I ended up having to write it over and over again. In the end, I felt it would be more meaningful to narrate those painful days not through human eyes, but through those of a dog who’d seen his share of the conflict. Though this may seem brilliant, it’s not a unique idea. Before me, many authors including John Berger and Bulgakov had canine heroes. One morning I encountered a dog with a team of soldiers searching for mines on the roadside. It struck me that my own story could be told vis-à-vis a dog who joined in the conflict, albeit indirectly. Dogs don’t take sides and they have much more concrete realities than humans. Just like those young men, he was getting his share of the fighting and the trauma. I also was probably curious about how it would be to look at war through the eyes of a dog who was in love. That’s how Wûf became more than just an idea. 

Luke: Talk to me about your writing process. How do you go from a concept to a completed text? 
Kemal: First, I get an idea. I get enchanted and obsessed with that idea for days, months. I can say that this is the most difficult part for me. In my head, I try to put together the novel, set it in a place, prepare it for life, chose my words, decide on the mood and voice, and come up with the ending. Once I realize that this idea has become whole, I start telling everyone around me about it just like my storyteller father. For me, it’s just as important that a story be just as tellable as it is writable. The faces of my listeners help me see which bits of my stories are strong and which ones are kind of flabby. That’s how I know what needs to be rewritten. Only much later will the text be fully completed in my mind. So, I don’t struggle at all when it comes to writing. In fact, that’s the easiest part for me. I work with impeccable discipline, writing for about 12 hours a day. I sit down to write with a finished text in my head in which everything has already been worked out. 

Luke: I grew up in the English countryside, there were always dogs. One of the things that I loved about your dogs is that they really felt very real to me. They talk, experience the world and feel in a way that seemed true. How did you go about making the dogs feel like dogs and not simply Humans in a dog’s body? 

Kemal: There’s a long city scene in the novel. The dog escapes from the outposts and runs away to the big city. After walking around the whole town, he gives up and heads back to the outpost in the evening. I remember walking for days on the route the dog takes in the scene. I spent a long time wondering what I would do if I were a hungry, thirsty, frightened street dog in the city. I walked those roads pondering which streets I would turn down, who I’d run from, who I’d run to for protection, what I’d be afraid of, etc. In the end, I’d return home to the desk, realizing I was as tired as a dog who’d spent all day wandering the city. On those days, I’d perceive people, space, and distant sounds like the dogs do. Sometimes I did this not just to write, but to see the world through the eyes of another creature. Other times I went to the dog shelter in my town and spent hours watching the dogs who’d flunked out of mine-sniffing training and been sent there. I did a lot of observing their hierarchies, their hunger and their suffering. They were also probably confused by me. They’d stick their noses through the fence between us and wonder why I was just watching them. By looking into one another’s eyes, listening to one another, but mostly through silence, we tried to understand one another, and I guess I found a common tongue in the end.  

Luke: Mikasa is the protagonist for the story. He has quite a unique way of expressing himself. How did you come up with a voice for Mikasa? 

Kemal: I’ve never had a dog, nor have I ever spent a long time with a dog. But I must have felt a strong connection between the loneliness of a dog and my own loneliness while I was writing. Honestly, Mikasa isn’t much like other dogs. For one thing, he’s a faithful lover. Even in the midst of a horrible war, his singular desire is to be with Melsa, the dog he loves. He doesn’t care about the war or what’s happened to the other dogs in his pack. He’s kind of innocent. If you remember, he only realizes much later why he’s been enlisted in the army. He’s got the naïve outlook of a true romantic. Once I got into his internal world, it wasn’t hard to create his voice. 

Luke: What challenges did maintaining a dogs perspective throughout the story present you as a writer?

Kemal: The real challenge was that whether I like it or not, a number of human sensibilities got into the mix here and there. I realized as I was writing that I projected human behaviors onto the dog. But the book was being written by a human, so no matter what that perspective was going to slip though. So, I tried to create a point of view that was somewhere between human and dog. 

Luke: The story is about the conflict between a known state, a rebel organization, and the people that get caught between the two. How did telling the story from the perspective of the dogs change your perspective on the conflict?

Kemal: I never forgot that I’m a writer and, therefore, I have to approach my subjects through a literary lens first and foremost. It never occurred to me to write a piece of propaganda. Many authors who came before me have chosen this path, anyhow. As you’ve said, I wanted more to tell the story of those caught in the middle of a conflict. Honestly, I’m not concerned with who’s right and who’s wrong. I wanted to relate the suffering of the environment, animals and kids who joined the war either willingly or by force. I have to confess that while writing the novel, I began to understand those who, politically speaking, are my polar opposites and wanted to give voice to their pain. While writing Wûf, I understood the importance of looking at things, not just from our own point of view but also from the other side. The book was both loved and hated. Those who loved it did so because of its refusal to take sides and those who hated it probably did so for the same reason. I think they felt this way because they can’t bear seeing someone else’s suffering. Their pain is the only one they want people talking about. But my concern was not to take sides when telling a story of suffering. What I really wanted to do was show how everyone bears the brunt of war, the environment and animals included. 

Luke: In To Kill a Mockingbird, by using the more innocent perspective of a child, Harper Lee was able to get to the core of her topic. Are you trying to do a similar thing in Wûf? To what extent do you think you succeeded?

Kemal: Innocence wasn’t the only factor in choosing a dog as the hero of the novel. As you know, you can’t just talk about things directly in countries with weak freedom of expression and rule of law. You could end up in court or in jail. You end up having to say things indirectly just like Bulgakov or Sadegh Hedayat. As I mentioned above, I had to write Wûf this way in order to be both unbiased and indirect. As I began to write, all of these things were big challenges for me. But when the book was finished, I realized that what I’d thought were big disadvantages turned out to be my real successes. If it hadn’t been for the obstacles listed above, Wûf might not have been so uniquely crafted.

Luke: One of the characters that I loved in Wûf was Turquoise. He is one of the most frightening villains I have read in fiction for quite a while. He is made even more frightening because we don’t get a whole lot of information about his backstory. Could you tell me a bit about how you came up with this character and how did you grow his relationship with Mikasa? 

Kemal: In every country, there are people that governments get to do their dirty work. Afterwards, they protect these people and elevate them to hero status either secretly or publicly. This was true in the Bosnian war, in Afghanistan and in Latin America. I based Turquoise on a figure who is very well known to us. It was inevitable that he and Mikasa’s paths would cross because these “heroes” are the enemies of not only humanity but also nature, love and animals.

Luke: In the last edition of the Bosphorus Review of Books, you published a short story called “The Clasp.” It is a more humorous lighter story than Wûf. Could you tell me a little bit about that story? 

Kemal: As the years go by, I’ve realized that people who learn to live with pain have a strange sense of humor. I guess I’m one of those. Irony is a must-have element in many of my works. While telling a story of social importance, I take an ironic turn whenever I get the chance. I also love to tell a painful story through an ironic veil. “The Clasp” is one of the weird, funny stories from my childhood that takes place against the backdrop of the war. It relates the confusion of kids who’ve fled their village because of the fighting. In the town where they’ve taken refuge, they see a brassiere for the first time and don’t know what it is or what it’s for. Actually, not just in that story but in the other stories in the book I tried to convey the children’s sense of being left behind or being somehow unfulfilled. 

Luke: What are three books that have been important in your development as a writer?

Kemal: I have to name four books. One Hundred Years of Solitude is one that’s still at my bedside. I try to reread it at least once a year. Also, Calvino’s If on a Winter’s Night a Traveler is very important to me. Two books that have taught me a lot as a writer are Orhan Pamuk’s Black Book and Ihsan Oktay Anar’s Stories of Afrasiab.

Wûf was translated by Dayla Rogers. We also got the chance to ask her some questions about the book and the nuances of the translation process.

Luke: Could you tell me a bit about yourself and how you got into translation? 

Dayla: I’ve always had a passion for foreign language and have been dabbling in various languages from a young age. I got the opportunity to study abroad for a year in high school with the Rotary Club and leapt on it. Because this program is free, you don’t get to choose which country you go to. Turkey seemed cool and exotic, so it was high on my list. Most likely other people were afraid to go to Turkey, so that’s the country that came up for me. Even if I were sent somewhere else, I probably would have become a translator of that language because it’s something I just love doing. I think it’s a beautiful thing to enable people of different backgrounds to think about and discuss a piece of literature. 

Luke: Why was Wüf an exciting project for you to work on? 

Dayla: There are so many reasons. Firstly, it’s very difficult to find fiction that deals with the conflict of the 1990s. It also manages to stay solidly in the realm of fiction. What I mean by this is that it doesn’t stray into being propaganda for a certain ideological stance, which can happen all-too-easily with extremely polarizing situations like this. I also find the language and characters to be down-to-Earth and relatable. Finally, I feel an affinity with Kemal Varol because we’re both teachers who moonlight by doing literary work.

Luke: As I said to Kemal Bey above, one of the things I love about Wûf is that the dogs feel like dogs to me. Was that a consideration when you were doing your translation? 

Dayla: I think that Kemal Varol’s writing accomplished that and I didn’t have to do many tricks with translation to render it into English. One fun thing was tweaking the dogs’ names to maintain their character in English. For instance, there is a dog whose Turkish name is “Barut”, which means “gunpowder”. I changed that one to Gunsmoke, so it would still sound both more natural in English but also badass. The dog Wolfie’s name was challenging because his Turkish name, “Kurtoğlu” is a reference to a certain nationalist party that has a white wolf as its emblem. Name the dog “Wolfie” maintains that reference, but also gives it a cutesy connotation that isn’t in the original. I’m not happy with it, but couldn’t think of another solution. 

Luke: Mikasa is a street dog. He curses, he uses slang and colourful idioms. How did you try to convert the ‘street language’ into English without losing the flavour of the original? 

Dayla: I think slang, profanity and dialect are areas in which a translator can get creative and add their own style. For instance, the veterinarian’s nickname is “pencil moustache” in Turkish, but I made the choice to shorten it to “pencil-stache.” This wasn’t necessary but my intuition told me it would give the dog’s speech a more natural character. 

I also like to use a certain degree of eye dialect. That is, I like to compress words together, “What do you mean?” from certain dogs would be said “Whaddaya mean?” Sometimes this effect is present in the original Turkish and sometimes I add it because I think the character would sound stiff without it. The way a text sounds when it’s read out loud is very important to me. I always read my drafts aloud to someone and make the characters’ speech sound like I think it should. 

Luke: What other books are out in Turkish that you would like to see translated into English? 

Dayla: I tend to think of literature in terms of authors rather than specific works. There are some short story writers whose work I think would be appreciated by more literary-oriented English readership. Among them are Pınar Öğünç, Mahir Ünsal Eriş, Deniz Tarsus and Mustafa Çiftçi. That doesn’t mean there aren’t other great authors! I just haven’t had a chance to read their work yet. 

I have translated the stories “The Clasp” and “The Color of Envy” from Kemal Varol’s Sahiden Hikaye and I would love to do the whole book someday. I would also love to translate his first novel Jar.