Autumn 2013

exceptions, the cultural elements that
Kivirähk draws upon are not specifically
Estonian. As far as the legendary elements
are concerned, the Salamander reminds one
of Fafnir, the Nordic dragon, well known in
France through one of Wagner’s operas, and
Gaul was full of hiied: sacred groves! On
another level, the villages described in the
book, are very similar to those which existed
in France during the Middle Ages. Conflict
between Paganism and Christianity also
took place in France, and the hatred of
snakes by religious bigots is equally familiar.
The depiction of bears as comic characters,
could have been taken directly from Roman
de Renart, one of the medieval texts best
known to the general public. Even the
conflict between common people and a
nobility, created from warriors and the
religious orders, is familiar to us. Of course,
our nobility spoke the same language as the
people but it also claimed to have come from
Germany, at the time of great invasions; and
there have been three more invasions by
Germany since 1870. Kivirähk’s anticlericalism
is regarded as rather banal in France,
probably more so than in Estonia.
Only in a few, specific places within Kivirähk’s
text were explanatory notes required,
(for example, to explain what a kiik is). Many
more would have been required had the
original text been from a Mexican or Arabic
author. But that is to be expected; Estonia is
part of Europe! Estonians are not a band of
prehistoric people miraculously preserved on
a reservation, nor are they a tribe isolated on
an island; their culture is entirely European and,
over millennia, has evolved by contact with
other European cultures. That their language
is not Indo-European is mere detail, which is
lost in translation, anyway.
In fact, Kivirähk addresses omnipresent
issues with a blend of deftness and gravity
which is characteristic of the age we live in:
how do we adapt to the passage of time, to
the modern world, without becoming bigots
trapped in an idealised past? How do we
accept that what we take for granted is
disappearing? How might we live in the
midst of stupidity? How might we confront
loneliness? That these problems are being
addressed by a society, some distance
away, does not put off a well-read, French
reader who is in the habit of enjoying works
by Japanese, Hindu or other authors. In any
case, Leemet lives in a country of fairy tales
and science fiction which is much more
familiar than is Estonia. The only aspect of
the book that may be a little curious for a
French reader is the way in which Kivirähk
places emphasis on the problem of languages.
(In France there is little mention of
linguistic conflicts; some French people are
even quite happy to see lesser-spoken
languages disappear). But the book is so
magnificent that it is possible to ignore this
issue whilst deriving so much pleasure from
reading the book as a whole.
Kivirähk’s humour relies very little on wordplay;
it is a mix of burlesque, situation comedy
and, in particular, a sense of anachronism, familiar
to those who grew up with Kamelot and
Monty Python. It is, quite simply, an absorbing
read! There is never a dull moment.
For me, the adventure is over. Will there
be a follow-up? Not immediately. Kivirähk’s
next book to appear in France, Rehepapp,
will be translated by Antoine Chalvin (with
publication planned for the Autumn of 2014).
Furthermore, other intellectual challenges
have arisen in addition to translating from
Estonian. For several years I have been
struggling to learn the Basque language, the
only European language, other than the
Finno-Ugric languages, which differs so
much from French, and which also excites
my interest. So, what about a comparative
study of the prospects for the Basque and
Estonian languages, and for the Basque
region and Estonia? They demonstrate
many similarities but also many differences?.
What about a translation from Basque into
Estonian or the promotion in the Basque
Country of one of Kivirähk’s books translated
into Basque?
Let us dream...
Translated from French by Gwyn Davies