Writer S. Hareesh and translator Jayasree Kalathil first collaborated on Meesha, translated into English as Moustache, which won the JCB Prize for Literature in 2020. They have now reunited for August 17, a novel set in the erstwhile princely state of Travancore that imagines an alternate history: what if the princely state had remained independent after 1947?
Blending fictional characters with historical figures such as Vaikom Muhammad Basheer, the novel moves beyond historical fiction into an exploration of storytelling itself, and how stories shape nations, politics, and collective memory.
“It is the ability to tell stories that differentiates humans from other animals. It is also storytellers who created religions and nation states,” says Hareesh.
Originally published in Malayalam in 2022, the novel has now been translated into English by Kalathil and published by HarperCollins India. “I’m waiting to see how readers in English will engage with a novel that deals with the history of a small princely state that even many Malayali readers may not be deeply familiar with,” says the writer.
In an interview with The WEEK, Hareesh and Kalathil speak about August 17, translating history and fiction across languages, and the evolving space for literary translations in India.
Edited excerpts:
Your first book Meesha (Moustache, in English) brought you much acclaim. With August 17, did you find your approach to writing chang in any way? Did the success of Meesha bring any pressure while working on August 17?
Hareesh: With each new work, our approach to writing changes. It is not dependent on the success or failure of the previous work, but on when we are writing it, what we’ve been reading, how the world has changed in the meantime.
Meesha was discussed quite widely, so was its translation, Moustache. That didn’t put any pressure on me. Writing brings up other kinds of concerns: ‘Is it doing justice to my own idea of a good novel? Is the language I use outdated?’ These are the pressures.
August 17 is very different from Meesha, and my effort was to employ as much freedom as possible in its writing. In August 17, I did try to leave behind its somewhat loose structure.
After the controversies surrounding Meesha, did you become more conscious of how your writing might be interpreted? Did that affect August 17 in any way?
Hareesh: Controversies remain in people’s memory only for a short period of time. Interpretations of literary works, on the other hand, continue for a very long time. So these controversies needn’t limit our writing.
August 17 has many things that are contrary to the general political awareness in Kerala. But the readers here appreciate the freedom that fiction necessarily takes. Their approach to the book has been one of maturity and discernment.
In August 17, it is often difficult to separate fact from fiction. What was the research process like? Was it especially challenging as you were dealing with real historical figures while also constructing an alternate history?
Hareesh: From a very young age, I have been interested in history and have engaged with it substantially. So the research that was done at the time of writing was not that overwhelming. In another sense, it could be said that I had started the research needed for this novel way before I even thought of becoming a writer.
Among all my works, August 17 is the one that has benefited most from the reading of my younger days. There is one book I’d like to highlight – KM Chummar’s Thiruvithamkoor State Congress, which was most useful in writing this novel. Also useful were the biographies and autobiographies of Akkamma Cherian, Kumbalath Shanku Pillai, Janardhana Kuruppu, C. Keshavan, and Mannath Padmanabhan.
One of the larger ideas the book explores is the power of stories. How do you view the power of stories. Were there any real-life experiences or observations that drew you to this subject?
Hareesh: It is the ability to tell stories that differentiates humans from other animals. It is also storytellers who created religions and nation states. Made-up stories are needed for wars, genocides, and development alike. Often, it is not real people or real events that puts the world in motion, but the stories that are made up surrounding them.
The inspiration for this novel came from observing the world, political events, my fellow human beings, the organisations and associations we’ve made, and the way they all change so quickly.
First published in Malayalam in 2022, August 17 is now available in English. Have you noticed any differences in the way readers engage with the book in the two languages?
Hareesh: It’s a bit early to comment about this difference because the English translation has only just come out.
But in another language, a book is read without preconceptions or obligations. I think this is where a translation becomes relevant. It underlines that what is being translated is not only language but culture.
I’m waiting to see how readers in English will engage with a novel that deals with the history of a small princely state that even the ordinary Malayali is not all that familiar with. Certainly, Moustache received a deeper engagement from the readers than Meesha.
How was the experience of translating August 17, given its many layers of history and the way it often blurs the line between fact and fiction?
Jayasree: It was quite an immersive experience. I think I’ve taken more time with this book than the others I’ve translated.
In the beginning, I was overwhelmed by the weight of a part of history that was not all that familiar to me as well as by the thought that it would be even less familiar to readers outside Kerala. I got stuck thinking about how much to explain the ‘real’ history so that readers understand the ‘fictional’. In the end, over many conversations with Hareesh and musings about the alternative/historical novels that I have read and loved, I realised that I should focus on the fact that this was fiction, not history. That was liberating.
How was the experience different from translating Moustache?
Jayasree: Moustache and August 17 are entirely different in its conception, craft, structure and storytelling, and so the challenges were different too. Moustache is polyphonic, loose in structure and exuberant in its storytelling, which allows the translator much more space to elaborate or explain where necessary, gloss without being obtrusive. August 17 is much more tightly structured, with a single predominant narrative voice, documentary and reportage in places. Here the translator must be stealthy, almost cunning in introducing explanations or glosses. The other difference is that August 17 is, regardless of its speculative nature, based on actual historical facts. A major character is Vaikom Muhammad Basheer, perhaps the most important Malayalam writer of all times. Many of his works are referenced in the text, and some of his characters make an appearance in it.
How do you view the space for literary translations today, with so many books being published, recognition, and awards?
Jayasree: I hear that the number of translations published in India has increased substantially. And I do feel there is better appreciation for literary translations. But I’m not sure if that necessarily translates into an appreciation for literary translators. Reviewers and readers rarely acknowledge the fact that the book is a translation. If reviews do mention it, they have little more to say about it than an adjective – ‘brilliant’, ‘clunky’, ‘meticulous’, ‘heavy-handed’. Having won a few of the translation awards, I can say that some of them still award the translator at half the value of the writer – this is reflected in the prize money. In some others, the prize, even though it is for a translated work, is only given to the author. I have protested publicly about such an award and got the decision overturned. And of course, when we talk about the increased space for literary translations, we are talking about translations into English from other Indian languages, not between them, which I would like to see more of.
You both won the JCB Prize for Literature for Meesha, a prize that has now been discontinued. At one level, Indian literary culture today appears more visible than ever, with festivals, awards, and growing attention to translated works. But from the perspective of writers and translators, has that visibility turned into something more tangible – greater stability, better earnings and more opportunities?
Hareesh: I am not sure about this. The new generation has a vibrancy and variety in their writing and reading. Translations and literary awards like the JCB Prize helped bring the best of our regional language writing to national attention. But it is yet to gain international attention and there is more publishers can do here.
Jayasree: I was only starting out when Moustache received the prize. It was my second translation. My first book received the Crossword Book award for translation. The awards definitely helped with editors taking me seriously, willing at least to read my proposals. But it has not helped with gaining international attention. Systemic and structural barriers still exist in the publishing industry that make translations form Indian languages, South Asian languages more broadly, getting published internationally. Platforms like the English PEN and projects like South Asian Literature in Translation (SALT) are trying to dismantle these barriers, and hopefully things will begin to change.