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able at least to put my own two cents in
A few words from Yuriko. I've been wanting to do a full translation of the 1929 letters--explanation below--and will occasionally put bits up here. To begin with, a short passage from September 26, chosen for the date but also because I like it.
Milochka, it’s so nice here! First a nice sturdy square table, a good solid chair facing it, a decent bed too, it’s so good here. And quiet. ... This seemed like just a tiresome trip, but when I think it over now, it might turn into something quite interesting if I write about it properly. Living this way, at least, even if it’s nothing special, I’m living a life you don’t live, seeing things you won’t see, knowing people you don’t know, able at least to put my own two cents in. ... I discovered—to people who already know it this is nothing special—that literature isn’t the words themselves but the way you arrange them. ... I want you to do something in a different category from the “good translations” of earlier days, Milaya. ... (I need paper the way I need food. I haven’t any more of this good English paper.)
Confusing without the background, but here goes. Chujo Yuriko, writer and Communist-to-be, in her temporary lodgings in Paris in September 1929, which makes her thirty years old. The letter is to her partner at the time, Russian translator Yuasa Yoshiko, then in Moscow. Yuriko well-known as a writer since her debut at seventeen, Yoshiko then (at thirty-three) just beginning to make a name for herself as a translator. Milochka and Milaya are among Yuriko's pet names for Yoshiko, Russian words for "darling." Typical of Yuriko to focus first of all on the table in her rented room, her space to write.
Milochka, it’s so nice here! First a nice sturdy square table, a good solid chair facing it, a decent bed too, it’s so good here. And quiet. ... This seemed like just a tiresome trip, but when I think it over now, it might turn into something quite interesting if I write about it properly. Living this way, at least, even if it’s nothing special, I’m living a life you don’t live, seeing things you won’t see, knowing people you don’t know, able at least to put my own two cents in. ... I discovered—to people who already know it this is nothing special—that literature isn’t the words themselves but the way you arrange them. ... I want you to do something in a different category from the “good translations” of earlier days, Milaya. ... (I need paper the way I need food. I haven’t any more of this good English paper.)
Confusing without the background, but here goes. Chujo Yuriko, writer and Communist-to-be, in her temporary lodgings in Paris in September 1929, which makes her thirty years old. The letter is to her partner at the time, Russian translator Yuasa Yoshiko, then in Moscow. Yuriko well-known as a writer since her debut at seventeen, Yoshiko then (at thirty-three) just beginning to make a name for herself as a translator. Milochka and Milaya are among Yuriko's pet names for Yoshiko, Russian words for "darling." Typical of Yuriko to focus first of all on the table in her rented room, her space to write.