
KOCHI: The secrets of the Itty Cora clan are carefully guarded, hidden beneath layers of history and imagination in the pages of Francis Itty Cora. The novel opens with a bold disclaimer: “This is not history. It’s just a tale spiced with lies and anecdotes.”
TD Ramakrishnan, the author, explains that history “serves merely as a possibility for storytelling.” A decade after its groundbreaking release, Ramakrishnan returns to the Itty Cora universe with a highly anticipated sequel, Korahpappanu Sthuthi Ayirikkatte. As he crafts this second chapter, readers are once again invited to explore the grey areas of morality and history that defined the first book.
In this exclusive interview, the writer delves into the narrative architecture of Francis Itty Cora, his writing process amid globalisation’s shadows, and Priya K Nair, the translator, talks about the process and challenges of translating the book.
Excerpts follow.
Interview with TD Ramakrishnan:
1 You’ve mentioned needing to captivate readers within the first ten pages. How did this goal shape the narrative structure of Francis Itty Cora?
In the 21st century, readers encounter books amid the distractions of visual media and information technology, making it crucial for writers to engage them from the outset. This challenge influenced the precise narrative structure of Francis Itty Cora, evident in the first chapter, titled ‘Cannibals.com’.
From an online sex racket in Kochi to the Iraq War, the Abu Ghraib prison camp, and Kunnamkulam, the narrative transitions swiftly, aiming to grip readers within the opening pages. This approach weaves a compelling web, drawing readers into the story.
2 Did writing on morally complex and dark themes like capitalism, online sex rackets, and cannibalism challenge you?
Following the globalisation of the 1990s, Francis Itty Cora critiques greed, selfishness, sexuality, and the violent excesses of global capitalism. Using metaphors like cannibalism and ‘The School’, alongside vivid depictions of violence and desire, the narrative unfolds amid intense inner conflict.
At the time, I was the chief controller in Southern Railway, a position of immense responsibility that brought significant stress. Immersed in my characters and scenarios, I often reached a near-manic state, blurring the line between reality and imagination.
3 Many consider the novel a shift in Malayalam literature. How do you perceive its impact on contemporary writing and readership?
It is for readers and critics to assess the novel’s impact. However, I believe Francis Itty Cora has influenced contemporary writing and reading through its themes, narrative style, and language. By breaking taboos around sexuality and morality, it may have paved the way for more liberated expressions in literature. Middle-class comfort literature, previously marked by philosophical theatrics and linguistic play without significant impact, seems less relevant today.
4 How do you feel about comparisons between Francis Itty Cora and OV Vijayan’s Dharmapuranam?
While I revere OV Vijayan as a master, comparing Francis Itty Cora to Dharmapuranam is inappropriate. The two works, written in different eras and styles, address distinct themes. Dharmapuranam is a political satire rooted in an Indian context, while Francis Itty Cora constructs a parallel history by engaging creatively with time and knowledge. Both novels challenge literary norms but in unique ways. Dharmapuranam critiques the obscenity of power, while Francis Itty Cora examines the violence of desire.
5 How does the novel reflect the consequences of globalisation post-1990s liberalisation?
Since the 1990s, globalisation has reshaped society, fostering the rise of corporate capitalism. The world has become a marketplace where everything is commodified, and profit reigns supreme. Even love is reduced to lust, as explored in ‘The Gospel of Cora’. Through the narrative, I express anguish over the erosion of fundamental values like compassion, kindness, and empathy.
6 The novel highlights the Kerala School of Mathematics and historical erasures. Was this a deliberate commentary on how power dynamics shape historical narratives?
By centring the Kerala School of Mathematics, Francis Itty Cora critiques the Eurocentric epistemology of globalisation. In today’s world, knowledge is a commodity tied to power. Drawing from figures like Hypatia, Erds, Grothendieck, and Madhavacharya, I sought to spark discussions on Kerala’s mathematical heritage without resorting to baseless myth-making. Inspired by George Gheverghese Joseph’s The Crest of the Peacock, my aim was to celebrate an authentic scientific legacy.
7 How did you conceptualise themes like cannibalism, and what was your reaction to polarised reception?
Upon its release in 2009, Francis Itty Cora faced harsh criticism from traditional literary circles. It was accused of promoting cannibalism, encouraging sexual anarchy, and commercialising Malayalam literature. A respected writer even claimed it endangered Malayalam literature. However, readers embraced the novel, making it a success. Criticism, in my view, is positive. A novel belongs to its readers, and their interpretations transform it. If it sparks movement in socio-political consciousness, it succeeds.
8 What challenges did you face adapting the influences of Umberto Eco and Gabriel García Márquez to the Malayalam context?
In addition to Márquez and Eco, I’ve been influenced by Milan Kundera, Roberto Bolaño, and Haruki Murakami. While their works emerge from specific contexts, they
resonate globally. Rather than adapting their influence to Kerala, I elevate Kerala’s life to a global stage, reflecting contemporary reality. For instance, right now, I am reading Murakami’s The City and Its Uncertain Walls and listening to APT, sung by South Korean artiste Rosé and American singer Bruno Mars. In Francis Itty Cora, Rekha’s ringtone is Papa Roach’s Cut My Life Into Pieces. As global citizens, writers address audiences beyond regional boundaries.
Interview with Priya K Nair:
How did you approach translating culturally specific terms and dialects, such as Benny’s distinct Kunnamkulam speech, while making the text accessible to non-Malayali readers?
Benny was indeed challenging; recreating a dialect in another language is nearly impossible. TD Ramakrishnan described Benny as a typical businessman from Kunnamkulam: terse in his speech and tight-fisted with money. We kept his dialogue brief, with a staccato rhythm. Based on the character descriptions, I translated his conversations accordingly.
TD Ramakrishnan’s prose is layered and rhythmic. Could you share an instance where you had to creatively adapt or compromise to retain the essence of the original, considering your prior work with him?
The description of the Itty Cora clan and their rituals is elaborately portrayed, with a distinct rhythm. The chapter titled ‘The Gospel of Cora’ has a ceremonial cadence, which I tried to maintain in the translation. I read the Malayalam (words) aloud, attempting to replicate the rhythm in English. However, compromises were necessary, as many jokes and puns were omitted, as they would not resonate in English. Humour is particularly difficult to translate.
You’ve coined the term ‘traadaptation’ to describe hybrid translation approaches. How do you see this concept redefining literary translation and its application in modern media?
Each translation is also an adaptation, which is why two translations of the same book can differ greatly. When a book is turned into a film or short story, both translation and adaptation occur simultaneously.
What advice would you give to aspiring translators looking to make their mark in this field?
In translation studies, it’s often advised to translate into your mother tongue, but I translate from my mother tongue to English. This could be why translations from regional languages aren’t widely accepted by native English speakers. If you’re bilingual, translation is an excellent creative process that keeps your mind agile and helps you build an extensive vocabulary. However, I wonder when AI might take over translation, once it gathers enough data.