In Translation — A Translated Fiction Companion

Every book you loved in translation had two authors. You know one of their names.

Here is the secret printed in small type on the copyright page: not one word of the novel you just finished was written by its author. The author wrote it in Korean, in Spanish, in Norwegian. Every word you actually read — every sentence you underlined, every joke that landed, every line that stopped you — was chosen by a second writer: the translator. You have been reading two authors all along. In Translation is where you finally keep both names.

Every book gets a two-page spread: The Book & Its Two Authors, the translator billed at the same size as the author, the original title and language, and the lag — the years the book waited to reach you. Facing it, The Voice of the Crossing: was this translation smooth as glass or deliberately strange — and whose strangeness was it, the author's world, the author's century, or the crossing itself? A page for the seam you felt, the seam that vanished, and the one question you'd ask the translator.

Then the journal does what no reading journal has done: it lets you follow translators like authors. Tracker pages for the second writers — their other crossings, their signatures, the books you'll let them carry you into next, because some readers end up trusting a translator more than an author, and they are right to. The Phrase Kept gives you ruled space to copy, by hand, the lines that survived the crossing — credited to author and translator, always. Two Translations puts two renderings of the same passage side by side and teaches your ear what to notice: rhythm, register, the image that changed in transit, what each version bought and what it spent. Lost & Found honours the untranslatables, the rebuilt jokes, the courtesies your language flattens — bridges admired, never failures mourned.

And because translated fiction has a calendar all its own, there is a WIT Month planner for August, a Series in Translation tracker for the sequels that exist — just not in your language yet — and a Waiting List for the books that are real, published and loved, somewhere you can't read. Close the year with the Annual Crossing Review: your languages of the year, your Translator of the Year, and the one book you'd press on the sceptic who insists something is always lost. (Something is. Wait until they see what was found.) There are no passages from any real translated book anywhere in this companion — every excerpt space is ruled for your own hand, copied from your own copy, with the double-credit rule printed on the page.

What's inside

• The Companion Method — the four moves on one page: credit the translator on every log, notice the crossing, keep the phrases, follow the translators
• The Crossing Desk — a Translation Dashboard (a portrait, not a score), the Crossings Index (one permanent line per finished book, translator indexed as an equal citizen) and How I Find Them, your discovery doors
• 6× two-page book spreads — The Book & Its Two Authors (both names at the same size, original title and language, the publication lag) + The Voice of the Crossing (smooth or strange, whose strangeness, the seam felt and the seam invisible, the one question for the translator)
• Translator Trackers ×8 portraits — follow the second authors across books: their signatures, the crossings you've read, the ones you'll let them carry you into next — plus Translators to Watch and The Presses & Lists I Trust
• The Phrase Kept — lines that survived the crossing, copied by hand and double-credited to author and translator, always — the rule is printed at the head of the page
• Two Translations — two published renderings of the same passage side by side in your own hand: rhythm, register, the image that changed in transit, what each version bought and what it spent
• Lost & Found — the honours list of the untranslatable: words, jokes and courtesies that couldn't cross as they were, and the bridges the translator built instead
• Reading the World — your languages and countries as an atlas of journeys, with the 'empty chairs' note: unread languages are chairs set for guests, never gaps in a score
• Series in Translation + The Waiting List — sequels that exist in the original but not yet in your language, publication lags, and the books that are real and loved somewhere you can't read
• WIT Month Planner — plan your August for Women in Translation Month while the lists are fresh
• The Year in Crossing — the Annual Crossing Review, the ten Crossing Awards (including the Second Author Award) and Re-crossings, where the variable is the rendering, not just the reader

The Companion Method

1. Credit the translator on every log. Every book spread has two name lines, printed the same size: AUTHOR and TRANSLATOR. Fill in both, every time, before anything else — it takes ten seconds and it changes how you read; you start hearing the second voice. If your edition doesn't name the translator, write 'not credited in this edition' — the blank, recorded, says something too. 2. Notice the crossing. Once per book, ask where you felt the seam — and where you forgot there was one. A strangeness might be the author's world, the author's century, or the crossing itself; learning to tell those apart, even roughly, even wrongly, is the whole pleasure. Your guesses are allowed to be guesses — write them in pencil. 3. Keep the phrases. When a line survives the crossing so completely that you stop and read it twice, copy it by hand into The Phrase Kept — credited to the author and the translator, because both of them made the sentence you're holding. One phrase per book is plenty; ten is a feast. 4. Follow the translators. When a crossing delights you, open a Translator Tracker and follow that person on purpose: their other crossings, their signature moves, the next book you'll let them carry you into.

A book spread takes about five minutes — two when you open the book, three when you close it. The Method is page 3 of the journal itself, and it is printed in full in the free sample.

Formats & files

Printable PDF in US Letter and A4, plus a tablet edition for GoodNotes/Notability-style apps — all three in the one purchase. Print at home or at a copy shop; the book spreads, Phrase Kept, Two Translations, Lost & Found, tracker and series pages are designed to be reprinted or duplicated without limit under the Personal Use license, so your thirtieth translated novel gets the same full spread as your first. Instant download after purchase.

Not the Classics Companion Journal — and proud of it

Our Classics Companion Journal is the reader's apparatus for the long canonical books, any classic in any form — a dossier per classic: context pages, cast lists, a progress ledger — and it keeps one translation-comparison block inside a dossier, for the classic whose rendering you must choose once. This companion is for translated fiction as a whole reading life: the translator billed on every spread, translators followed across many books, phrases kept from many crossings, series lags and waiting lists, the world shelf. Different books, different use, zero shared pages — the distinction is printed in the journal itself (p.44), and a reader of the world's fiction may well keep both. And for readers whose series exist in two languages at two speeds, the natural shelf-mate is the Series Catch-Up & Recap Journal: it rebuilds the story so far from your side of the Spoiler Line, while this companion's Series in Translation pages track the crossing itself — what exists, in which language, with what lag — and never a word of plot.

Who this is for

Readers of world fiction who have ever finished a translated novel and immediately looked up what else the translator has done. WIT Month readers planning their August. Anyone whose favourite authors write in languages they can't read, and who wants the carrying to be part of the record. And if translated books are a rare detour in your reading — honestly, the flagship bundle's logs will serve you, and we would rather tell you that here than sell you 44 pages you will not use.

Free sample

Three real pages form a genuinely usable starting kit: The Companion Method (journal p.3 — the four moves on one page), and one complete book spread — The Book & Its Two Authors (p.9) and The Voice of the Crossing (p.10). Method + one full spread is enough to log one real translated book, fully, tonight — for free, not a watermarked teaser. Blank apparatus only: no passage from any real book is printed in it.

Get the free sample

In Translation — A Translated Fiction Companion

$7 launch price

44 pages. License: Personal Use — print/copy for your own reading life, as many times as you need. Sharing the files or reselling is not permitted; see Licensing.

FAQ

Can I buy it today?

Yes — checkout is open now. Pagelyra sells through Gumroad: tap Buy on this page, pay securely on Gumroad, and your files are ready to download straight after payment. The free sample on this page stays free either way, and every purchase is covered by our Refund Policy.

How is this different from the Classics Companion Journal?

That journal is your apparatus for the long canonical books: a dossier per classic — context, cast, progress — with one translation-comparison block inside it, for the classic whose rendering you must choose once. This companion is for translated fiction as a whole reading life: the translator billed on every book spread, translator careers tracked across many books, phrases kept from many crossings, publication lags, a waiting list for books that aren't in your language yet, and a planner for Women in Translation Month. Different books, different pages, zero overlap — readers of world fiction often keep both.

I only read in translation occasionally. Is this still for me?

Honestly, it depends on the kind of occasional. If translated books are a rare detour, the flagship bundle's logs will serve you and we'd rather tell you that here. But if the occasional translated novel is the book you think about for a month — if you've ever finished one and immediately looked up what else the translator has done — this journal was built for exactly that reader, and one book spread a season is a perfectly respectable pace for it. No page in it has a date that can make you late.

Do I need to know the original languages?

No — the journal assumes you read in translation because you don't (or don't yet). Every language page works from your side of the crossing: what you can hear, compare and keep. The few places that invite the original's words ('any of the original's words for it, treasured and possibly misspelled') are written for the reader who knows three words and is proud of all three.

Why are the excerpt spaces so short?

Deliberately. The ruled spaces are sized for a line or two, copied by hand from your own copy and credited to author and translator — the way readers have kept commonplace books for centuries. This journal will never print passages from other people's books for you, and it isn't a place to transcribe chapters; it's a place to keep the phrases that stopped you, which are almost never long.