Prawin Adhikari is a writer and a translator, and an assistant editor at La.Lit, a literary magazine. Adhikari, originally from Abu Khairani in Tanahun, graduated in English from Whitman College, in the US. His debut short-story collection The Vanishing Act is being published by Rupa Publications, India, in February. He has also translated A Land of Our Own by Suvash Darnal, and Chapters, a collection of short stories by Amod Bhattrai.  The post’s Anup Ojha spoke with Adhikari about Nepali writers writing in English, and about his reading habits. Excerpts:

What are you presently reading?

The last book I remember reading was The City of Thieves, a novel by David Benioff. It is about a Jewish boy who survives the siege of Leningrad during the Second World War. Before that, as I was rewriting my own short stories, I read short stories and novels by Mo Yan, and John Cheever’s short stories to distract myself from the work I was actually supposed to be doing. Cheever’s ability to write complex, intriguing characters, and Mo Yan’s hyper-inventive imagination helped me forget the drudgery involved in the act of writing.

How did you first come to love books? Where did your reading habit originate?

I had access to books in Nepali and Hindi when I was growing up in Abu Khaireni. I used to be a book-runner, so to speak—bringing a book from one person to another. But I’d hijack it for long enough to finish reading it. These were the days of Surendra Mohan Pathak and Ved Prakash Sharma. I also used to read magazines like Madhuparka, Garima and Rup Rekha—of which my father had a daraaj-full. At Budhanilkantha School, there were a lot more books to read. 

Who are your favourite writers, and why?

Italo Calvino is my absolute favourite. Every person has the ability to tell stories, but not everyone can be inventive—with the narrative, with the language, with the very essence of what narrative and language are supposed to do together. Even fewer can write about this aspect of writing. Calvino could do all of this, and a lot more.  His works are more instructive for a writer than for casual readers. 

Among writers of Nepali fiction, I don’t think any other writer comes even close to the level of craft and intellectual engagement that BP Koirala achieved at the sentence-level. The first sentence of his novel Narendra Dai is perhaps more accomplished than the entire oeuvres of some other writers. I think Buddhi Sagar is the most inventive among the young writers: his writing is full of the sort of pathos that makes reading fiction worthwhile. 

What would you say makes a good writer? 

Reading widely and constantly re-inventing yourself. Also, to be a good writer, you have to be a bad writer first, but you have to strive to constantly improve your art and craft. If you can give readers insights into life or some other essential mystery—perhaps that makes you a good writer. 

Your debut book The Vanishing Act is being published very soon. What is the focus of the book? Who is your targeted audience? 

The Vanishing Act is a collection of nine stories, three based in Khaireni, three in Kathmandu, two in California, and one set in a fictional Nepali village. No two stories are alike. I worry that people seeking to burden fiction with a function will not find much in my stories. But if a reader is interested in reading fiction, I believe this is quite a strong collection. Some readers may find my stories absolutely pointless, and I hope they understand that that’s quite all right. 

Being a Nepali writer writing in English...What are the specific challenges?

We are dependent upon Indian publishers—for whom Nepal is only a small fraction of the market. Nepali publishers don’t want to risk publishing Nepali writers in English (NWE). I think that will change, now that it is possible to sell books printed in Nepal to the market in India. NWEs have to prove themselves to Nepali speakers, and to the international readership. The burden of idiomatic dexterity is doubled: We have to write good English with just the correct hint of the Nepali voice in it. I think the situation is ridiculous. 

If Nepali literature isn’t made available worldwide in translations, the wider literary world will have difficulty imagining what sort of literature exists in Nepal. If Nepali writers are not known outside the borders of the Nepali-speaking populations, Nepali writers working in other languages won’t be recognised either. 

What is your next project?

I hope to write a couple of screenplays and translate a few books in 2014. We have a mission at La.Lit: taking Nepali literature to the world and bringing world literature to Nepal. The translations will be a part of that larger mission. And cinema is what makes me happy, so I will work on screenplays.