The Gregory Rabassa Archive of Literary Translation Correspondence: Julio Cortázar

np. Very Good. A RARE AND REVEALING ARCHIVE FROM JULIO CORTÁZAR TO HIS TRANSLATOR GREGORY RABASSA, DOCUMENTING A LANDMARK LITERARY PARTNERSHIP. A significant and intimate archive of correspondence from Argentine-French writer Julio Cortázar (1914–1984) to Gregory Rabassa (1922–2016), the renowned literary translator whose English-language versions of Latin American fiction transformed global readerships. Rabassa translated three of the four novels Cortázar published during his lifetime, and the correspondence captures the evolution of their professional collaboration and personal friendship over nearly two decades.

The letters are deeply literary and often technical, with Cortázar discussing precise translation choices—words, phrases, sentences, and scenes—as well as his reading habits (including Bellow and Lowry), and literary interpretations of contemporary events (e.g., Lyndon Johnson’s mistaken attribution of Dover Beach to Robert Lowell). Most letters conclude affectionately, with some version of “with a big hug from your friend” (in translation).

In his memoir If This Be Treason: Translation and Its Dyscontents, Rabassa recalled:

“What drew me to the novel [Hopscotch] and to Julio were the variegated interests he and I had in common: jazz, humor, liberal politics, and inventive art and writing.” (p. 51)

The project sparked a transformative moment in Rabassa’s career—leading to awards, lasting collaborations, and the shared National Book Award in Translation. As Rabassa described it:

“So Hopscotch was for me what the hydrographic cliché calls a watershed moment as my life took the direction it was to follow from then on. I hadn’t read the book but I skimmed some pages and did two sample chapters, the first and one farther along, I can’t remember which. Editor Sara Blackburn and Julio both liked my version and I was off and away.”

Cortázar, a generous and enthusiastic collaborator, expressed joy and astonishment at Rabassa’s talents. In a letter to Sara Blackburn (presented here in photocopy), he wrote:

“The last three batches Greg sent were a joy to read and correct. He has found ‘le lieu et la formule’, the exact tone, the almost infallible way of rendering my meaning and all the hellish innuendos that make this book a big plague. I’m so glad that you agree too, because of course I cannot judge the translation from an English-language point of view. All I can say is that Greg has a genius for coining every mental structure in the English mould [sic] (wow, this is too metaphorical! But true at the same time).”(TLS, “Julio,” to Sara, July 3, 1965)

The archive comprises nearly five dozen letters and associated items by Cortázar spanning 1964–1982, including 15 autograph letters/notes, 41 typed letters, one typed letter to Sara Blackburn, and a manuscript poem in a conference program. Their correspondence aligns with major works Rabassa translated, including:

Contents by Work
A. Hopscotch (1966) – 19 letters
B. Paradiso & 62: A Model Kit (1972) – 11 letters
C. A Manual for Manuel (1978) – 6 letters
D. A Change of Light and Other Stories (1980) – 5 letters
E. A Certain Lucas (1984) – 2 letters from Cortázar, 1 from Rabassa

Highlights and Excerpts
“You are such a veteran translator you undoubtedly find the solutions immediately[...]“There will come a day, I hope, when I can return to the almost mythological times when I could read, listen to jazz and write to friends... Meanwhile, big love to yours, and a very big hug from your friend...”(Paris, Feb 22, 1970)

On August 16, 1970, Cortázar inquired whether Rabassa or Edith Grossman would be translating 62: A Model Kit, expressing strong hope it would be Rabassa. In a handwritten letter dated October 15, 1970, he rejoices:

“So happy about the possibility of you translating 62. No matter if it has to wait, the reward is too beautiful, we’ll (62 and I) wait years if necessary.”

A few illustrative excerpts (in loose translation):

Oct 26, 1970: “The other day I had lunch with Gabriel García Márquez and Vargas Llosa. I no longer remember which of the two was very happy to know that you were going to translate a book... I think it was Mario, and the book must be Conversation in the Cathedral.” You are going to have fun there, my little man…”
Nov 26, 1970: “I just came back from Chile, where I went to become a soldier... even though they almost killed me because of collective love... Paris seems to me like a desert island next to those cities where they know me too much... The news about 62 fills me with joy. Now I have faith, man, I was very afraid that in the end it would not be you who translated that novel; I hope you have the courage and the time to do it, because I will be able to sleep peacefully…”
April 9,1974 : “With you I feel on fraternal and immediate ground, I know that you understand me admirably and that I ‘pass’ into English effortlessly, as if it would have been written directly in that language and not in my Rio de la Plata Creole…”
Aug 11, 1975 (Saignon): Contrasts Rabassa’s sensitivity to syntax and rhythm with Clem’s (another translator): “Forgive me for sometimes exaggerating my observations, but I feel that it is my only way to help you. The translation sounds better, and has your special stamp, the Rabassa brand so to speak. I was delighted that Clem translated my story, and I read it very carefully. You see, I make some observations that seem fair to me. There is only one general detail that I would like to know to be honest, and Clem has not always realized that my writing rhythm is based on unusually long sentences, in which the commas are in the manner of periods, which is sometimes incorrect, but it allows me to achieve a kind of ‘swing’ in my writing, a breath that gives it, I think, its meaning. That’s why I do not agree with the tendency to cut sentences in two, which Clem has done many times. In some cases he has a reason, but in others I believe that the period can be replaced by a comma. I have indicated this in all the cases in which it seems necessary. If Clem wants a typical example, I will indicate lines 3 and 4 of page 4; I still understand that there is no need to cut the first sentence into two. Things are becoming too Hemingway-esque from the point of view of style. Everything else is perfect and I like it a lot. Thank you, to Clem, for your work which gives me great joy.”
July 9, 1977: On the translation of the nickname Polaquita: “Agree that any reference to the Poles is best eliminated in the affectionate name applied to Ludmilla. Your possibilities (‘Little Polecat’) do not convince me. ... I decided, Greg, that it would be best to use a familiar expression of affection, and after consulting one or two American friends in Paris, I think ‘little one’ would probably be best. It does not have the particular charm of ‘polaquita’ in Spanish, but on the other hand it does not have the derogatory notion that all reference to the Poles seems to have...”
Sept 27, 1979 (Paris): Discussing issues with the story, “You Lay Down by Your Side,” he notes, “Am leaving Venezuela in October to participate in a congress on exile in Latin America, a topic as important as it is sad, but one that demands debates and fights on the part of everyone of us who continue fighting against the Videlas and the Pinochets.... we can now subtract the son of a bitch Somoza from the list, but there are so many left.”
July 21, 1981 (Aix-en-Provence): Sends humorous remarks about editors:“Editors are capable of doing incredible things if they are not watched closely.”
Nov 7, 1981 (Aix-en-Provence):“For now I have proposed January as the travel date, and also that they get me a visa because with the cowboy on the throne the thing is always difficult. Of course, Mitterrand just gave me French nationality (which I had been denied twice in the last ten years) so that with a French passport I might be able to screw Reagan, although you never know.”

Additional Items-14 letters and other items, such as:

Autograph note on the verso of an 11x17 color poster announcing a theatre presentation of scenes adapted from Cortázar’s story, “Carta A Una Señorita En París,” published in Bestiario (Buenos Aires, Argentina: Editorial Sudamericana, 1951).
Manuscript poem written inside the front cover of a 16-Page, 6x9 stapled program of “The Fifth Oklahoma Conference on Writers of the Hispanic World: Julio Cortázar,” sponsored by the Department of Modern Languages and Books Abroad, An International Literary Quarterly, November 21 & 22, 1975, printed in black ink with a photograph of JC on the front and back cover.
Autograph note written in black ink on the back of a 6 3⁄4 x 9 1/8 full color lithograph reproduction.

After Hopscotch, Cortázar recommended Rabassa to Gabriel García Márquez:

“García Márquez wanted me to do his book but at the moment I was tied up with Miguel Angel Asturias’s ‘banana trilogy.’ Cortázar told Gabo to wait, which he did, to the evident satisfaction of all concerned.” (Memoir, p. 51)

Indeed, García Márquez reportedly waited three years for Rabassa to translate Cien años de soledad, but his patience paid off.

In 2001 Gregory Rabassa received the Gregory Kolovakos Award from the PEN American Center for the expansion of Hispanic Literature to an English-language audience. He received the PEN/Martha Albrand Award for the Art of the Memoir in 2006 for If This Be Treason: Translations and Its Dyscontents, a Los Angeles Times “Favorite Book of the Year” for 2005, and the National Medal of Arts in 2006. (Inventory #: 2966)