Creating a Vivid World: A Q&A with Lisa C. Hayden, the translator of Egana Djabbarova’s My Dreadful Body

The publication of Egana Djabbarova’s My Dreadful Body by New Vessel Press earlier this year is an important contribution to feminist russophone literature available to readers in English translation. Following the excerpt from this novel we published recently from the opening of the seventh chapter, “Tongue,” we’re taking the opportunity to dive a little deeper into the context, structure, and language of this remarkable book in our interview with its translator, Lisa C. Hayden. We are deeply grateful to Hayden, who also brought to anglophone readers books by Guzel Yakhina, Margarita Khemlin, Narine Abgaryan, Marina Stepnova, and Katerina Gordeeva, among others, for insights into her translation work.

Book cover of My Dreadful Body

Olga Zilberbourg: What considerations went into your decision to translate My Dreadful Body?

Lisa Hayden: The simplest answer is that I enjoyed the book and had a very clear sense of the narrative voice during my first reading. Clarity and enjoyment are always my initial cues to take a translation project. There were other factors, too, including the fact that Azerbaijan, a country I visited several times during the 1990s, features in this novel. And then there’s Egana herself, with her angles on feminism and family strife. The health themes interested me, too, since I used to write, as a freelancer, articles about drug discovery and medical devices. Among other things, I’d long wanted to translate a book for New Vessel Press. All the emotions flowing through Egana’s text felt stronger to me with each draft, telling me I’d made the right decision. I was nearly in tears by the time I finally read the version I turned in to New Vessel. And again when I read an advance copy of the book. I’d never received a printed advance copy of a translation before My Dreadful Body and it was a very moving experience to hold a book I’d translated before the book was finalized.

Olga Zilberbourg: Djabbarova first came to literature as a feminist poet. She has published three collections of poetry in Russian (as well as novels), and in English her work has appeared in F Letter: New Russian Feminist Poetry, edited by Galina Rymbu, Eugene Ostashevsky, and Ainsley Morse. Did her poetry affect your approach to this translation?  

Lisa Hayden: There is a bit of poetry in My Dreadful Body, so Egana’s poetry definitely affected my translation work! It was especially interesting (and challenging, since I rarely translate poetry) to work with lines from an Azeri lullaby and Russian-language responses to it. Egana’s prose often feels poetic, too, with lovely imagery and a rich compactness. That compactness and lovely imagery combine with beautiful cadences and use all five senses, creating a very vivid world. I recommend watching Egana recite some of her poetry during an online event held in May 2025 at Amherst College, hosted by Polina Barskova and Catherine Ciepiela. Egana’s event felt like a litmus test to me because it happened right around the time my translation was due. Had I gotten her tones right in my translation? I’m very voice-oriented, so hearing Egana speak – and recognizing many of the themes and even wording in her poems – was (how to say it?) an amazing experience. I love her strong feminist voice, both on the page and in speech. I tend to work very intuitively, so it feels almost as if I absorb Russian voices and then attempt to transform them into English. I don’t know quite how else to explain things.

Olga Zilberbourg: The narrator’s medical condition alters the course of her life quite dramatically. She describes it with precision and vivid details. Vivid descriptions of suffering can be emotionally challenging to read, let alone translate. How did this affect your work?

Lisa Hayden: I see the narrator’s medical condition and treatments as one of the most important layers of the novel, for all sorts of physiological, emotional, and metaphorical reasons. This layer of the book is medical, scary, and perhaps even physically painful, too, since I suspect that most of us have fears about our health. I certainly find it significantly harder to translate texts with physical and/or emotional pain than to read them; all the text’s words and emotions flow through me many, many times during the course of the work, even when I’m away from my desk. I can’t claim that my translation process is even close to, say, method acting, but, as a colleague and I were discussing just a few hours before I sat down to answer your question, translations about human pain and suffering leave traces on us. Just as they leave traces on their readers. There’s a ripple effect.

Olga Zilberbourg: Though this novel has a chronologically unfolding plot that has to do with the course of the narrator’s neurological condition, it’s also delightfully nonlinear. The book is divided into eleven sections, each titled for a particular body part: “Eyebrows,” “Eyes,” “Hair,” etc. In each section, the narrator often circles back to the attitude of her mother and grandparents to a particular subject. I wonder if this unique structure presented any challenges for you as a translator?

Lisa Hayden: I love the way Egana structured the novel, focusing on one body part per chapter. This is the sort of framework that keeps me interested, both as a reader and as a translator. I love that there’s always a new perspective, another way to enter the text and the issues it presents. Her chapters combine numerous motifs and threads from her characters’ lives: childhood and adulthood, family and Egana’s own personal life, healthiness and illness… One passage, in the “Hair” chapter, uses very poignant repetition when discussing Egana’s grandmothers. Egana’s writing is so wonderfully clean and clear that I didn’t find the translation unusually difficult. Though of course it was difficult! Every translation is difficult in its own way. The biggest challenges in translating Egana’s text lay in writing the translation as cleanly, clearly, and concisely as possible. Fortunately, Egana patiently answered many (many!) questions so I could feel comfortable with the wording and details in the translation.

I’m also beyond grateful that New Vessel Press is publishing the book. Publisher Michael Wise, who’s also a fantastic editor, takes tremendous care of his books, their writers, and their translators. It was a joy to work with him. My Dreadful Body was expertly and very thoroughly edited and proofread in several stages. Michael’s advice and ideas enabled us to replicate as many of Egana’s text’s rhythms as possible while retaining lots of Azeri words, too. I’m thankful that loads of patient and creative suggestions from Michael and his team improved the translation so much by admirably and tactfully balancing the wonderfully unique and nuanced aspects of Egana’s writing with understandability and clarity for anglophone readers.

Olga Zilberbourg: Do you see Djabbarova’s feminism influencing the structure, themes, or language of this book?

Lisa Hayden: One of the reasons I love My Dreadful Body so much is that I identify very closely with how Egana writes about the limitations that society, traditions, and family members inflict on women. The strictures she mentions range from things like grooming to choices of bathing suits to behavior at diaspora weddings. The fact that each chapter is titled for a body part goes a long way in demonstrating linkages between a woman’s physical body and how her upbringing affects her thought processes. Egana’s account of her relationships and interactions with family members is also telling. I’m hesitant to write too much about any of these aspects of My Dreadful Body because I hope readers will discover details and meanings that are especially significant to them so they can form their own relationships with Egana and her story. I love the power of her writing and hope our readers will, too!

Punctured Lines: Buy Egana Djabbarova’s My Dreadful Body in Lisa Hayden’s translation from New Vessel Press or at your favorite bookstore. Rate and review!

Lisa Hayden is a literary translator who lives in New England.

Waiting to Exhale: A Q&A with Natalie Oceanheart, author of Life Beyond Fear: A Ukrainian Woman’s Memoir, by Katya Cengel

Natalie Oceanheart begins Life Beyond Fear: A Ukrainian Woman’s Memoir (Potomac Books) with the escalation of fighting in Ukraine in 2022. At the time, Oceanheart is just starting out her adult life and yet the choices she makes as a daughter, wife, and mother — as well as a recent college graduate — are made amidst the chaos, despair, and danger of war. Born in eastern Ukraine, Oceanheart experienced the war from Russia’s first hybrid attack in 2014, and she backtracks to explain this, as well as the difficult choices she and her nuclear family make as they become internal refugees and then later leave Ukraine. At its core this is a coming-of-age story, which despite the bleakness of the situation offers hope through Oceanheart’s desire to act as a healer. I hold onto that hope as I once held onto the hope I saw while reporting on the protests that led to the Orange Revolution.

— Katya Cengel

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Poetry of Place and Displacement: A Q&A with Natalya Sukhonos by Valerie Bandura

Natalya Sukhonos’ third collection of poems, Sunlight Trapped in Stone (Green Writers Press, 2026), is an act of witness. At the center of the book are questions about history and place in the face of loss and displacement. Sukhonos was born in Odesa, Ukraine, and immigrated to the U.S. at the age of nine. The immigrant experience, its practical struggles, and the sense of belonging to multiple communities, languages, and histories is explored in each poem, most poignantly expressed in “Tunnel Vision”: “We’re all intact, but barely.”

Sukhonos introduces us to an intimate album of characters and visceral images: a grandfather reliving the past through Soviet-era movies, the hands of a mother raising her dead child from the crib, old women shelling sunflower seeds in a chestnut-lined courtyard, and the sweetness of apricot ice cream. These poems describe the past as vividly present, passing forward intergenerational trauma as much as creating a historical record.

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Narrating a Violent Childhood: A Q&A with Fiona Bell and Margarita Vaysman about Avdotya Panaeva’s The Talnikov Family

Avdotya Panaeva was born in 1820 and first began publishing her work in one of Russia’s premier literary magazines, Sovremennik, in 1846. The author of numerous short stories, novels, memoirs, as well as collaborative projects, she has only recently begun to achieve the recognition that she deserves in the English-speaking world.

On October 8, 2024, Columbia University Press published Fiona Bell’s translation of Panaeva’s first novel, The Talnikov Family. This became the second full-length translation of Panaeva’s work to English. In my review of the book in On the Seawall, I mention several social and historical factors that have kept this delightful novel from English-language readers for so long. In writing about this book, I have relied, in part, on Bell’s introduction to the novel and on the research by Margarita Vaysman, whose book Self-Conscious Realism: Metafiction and the Nineteenth-Century Russian Novel devotes a section to Panaeva’s work, including an excerpt that ran in Punctured Lines.

Today, it is my pleasure to discuss this novel and Panaeva’s work more broadly with her translator Fiona Bell and scholar Margarita Vaysman.

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Responding to Marat Grinberg’s The Soviet Jewish Bookshelf

Marat Grinberg’s academic volume The Soviet Jewish Bookshelf (The Tauber Institute Series for the Study of European Jewry, Brandeis UP, 2022) is an important book for the authors of this blog for personal and professional reasons as it reflects on a large body of work that we grew up with and have returned to in professional contexts. In its contributions toward re-defining Soviet Jewish identity in positive terms–as thick and multidirectional–it allows us to reshape our personal narratives and forge a path toward future research and creative projects.

Today we’re highlighting our responses to this book and encourage our readers to continue this conversation.

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I Think that Everything I Do Is a Form of Translation: A Conversation with Michele A. Berdy

We at Punctured Lines are thrilled to feature a conversation with Michele A. Berdy, longtime editor and columnist for The Moscow Times, now living in Riga, Latvia. Given both the political and personal upheavals of the last few years, this interview was long in the making. We are so glad to now publish this wide-ranging discussion about, among other things, cataclysmic changes, Soviet life hacks, art and culture, and of course, the war in Ukraine; there are many organizations you can support, including this one. This interview was conducted over email.

Yelena Furman: Let’s start with your intriguing reverse immigration story: you left the U.S. in 1978 to live in what was then the Soviet Union (the same year, as it happens, that my family left Soviet Ukraine for the U.S.). What inspired you to make that move, several years before the country began opening up under Gorbachev?

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A Character with a Secret Is an Easy Sell: A Conversation with Sasha Vasilyuk, by Olga Zilberbourg

A new novel set in World War II enters a crowded and hotly contested field. It is a particularly remarkable feat for a debut novelist that Sasha Vasilyuk’s Your Presence Is Mandatory (Bloomsbury, 2024) earned universal praise from celebrated writers across the former USSR diaspora community and far beyond. Gary Shteyngart wrote, “Wonderfully written, elegiac and necessary, Sasha Vasilyuk uncovers the history behind the recent headlines with great skill and grace.” Susanne Pari, author of In the Time of Our History and The Fortune Catcher, wrote, “An outstanding novel of sacrifice, love, and forgiveness.”

We celebrate this novel’s arrival with particular pleasure. A contributor to Punctured Lines, Vasilyuk participated in a number of events we’ve hosted over the years, and we’ve heard excerpts from this novel as she was working on one draft after another. In May 2024, Olga Zilberbourg interviewed Vasilyuk during a book release event at Telegraph Hill Books in San Francisco. The following Q&A is a follow-up to that in-person conversation. 

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Queer Encounters in the USSR and Russia, A Conversation with Sonja Franeta

Born in New York to Yugoslav parents, Sonja Franeta is a writer, educator, translator, and activist. In 1991, she was a delegate to the first Russian Lesbian and Gay Symposium, organized by International Gay and Lesbian Human Rights Commission (IGLHRC), and she helped facilitate LGBTQ film festivals in Russia.

From 1992 until 1996, Franeta collected video interviews with Russian gay, lesbian, and transgender people. Before Russia repealed its sodomy laws in 1993, some of the people she interviewed had served criminal sentences for homosexuality, while others experienced forced psychiatric treatment. In 2004, Franeta published the edited transcripts of these interviews in Russia, and later translated them to English in a book called Pink Flamingos: 10 Siberian Interviews (Dacha Books, 2017). These in-depth conversations allow us to learn her subjects’ life stories, as well as to understand the way they evaluated their experiences and conceptualized questions of identity and belonging.

In her second book, My Pink Road to Russia: Tales of Amazons, Peasants and Queers (Dacha Books, 2015), Franeta collected her essays on a wide range of topics. They include her childhood in the Bronx with a Croat mother and Serb father, her coming out story, her experiences as a female machinist and labor activist, and studying Russian literature, becoming a writer, and extensive travels across the former Soviet Union and the deep friendships she has formed there. Franeta’s writing is often very personal, exceptionally frank, and deeply insightful. Coming from a working-class background, she studied at NYU and UC Berkeley before rejecting the traditional academic path. In the 1990s, she taught English in Moscow and spent several years in Novosibirsk, working on a project for people with disabilities. 

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The Soviet-Jewish Experience in North America: A Conversation Between Masha Rumer and Lea Zeltserman

Today we welcome Masha Rumer and Lea Zeltserman back to Punctured Lines. They have both done Q&As with us previously (here and here), and each has participated in one of two different readings we organized by FSU immigrant writers (the recordings are here and here). We are extremely grateful to them for generating both the thought-provoking questions and answers in this exchange. This piece was a long time in the making, as all of us dealt, in various combinations, with the pandemic, the war, cross-country moves, and personal upheavals. We are thrilled to feature their wide-ranging and poignant conversation about immigration, writing, food, and more.

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Poems Betwixt Paths: Herb Randall in Conversation with Irina Mashinski

We are grateful to Herb Randall and Irina Mashinski for bringing us this interview about poetry, translation, music, and more. Both of them have appeared on Punctured Lines previously. An excerpt from Irina Mashinski’s hybrid poetry and prose collection The Naked World can be found here (while Herb Randall’s review of it in the Los Angeles Review of Books is here). At Punctured Lines, Herb Randall has contributed a personal essay about visiting Kharkiv and looking for traces of an English woman who moved there during Stalin’s reign and a review of Sana Krasikov’s The Patriots, about an American Jewish woman who also moves to Stalin’s Soviet Union (a clearly misguided endeavor from any country). We are very happy to have them back with the following in-depth discussion.

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