Left: Izidora Angel; right: Rene Karabash

Rene Karabash was a strong contender for the 2026 International Booker Prize for her experimental novel She Who Remains. Originally written in Bulgarian, the novel was translated by Izidora Angel with great finesse. In this conversation on the art of fiction and translation, I interview the author about her journey of becoming a Booker shortlisted novelist, and Izidora Angel joins the conversation, talking about her experiences as a translator. 

Mohd Farhan: What inspired you to write the novel She Who Remains?

Rene Karabash: I grew up in Bulgaria, and we are still a very patriarchal country. I grew up in a village where the patriarchal laws were stronger, and I had that urge to tell my story—how I see the world and how a sensitive girl has grown up in a place where men are above women. So, I was thinking about writing a book. I didn’t even know what I was going to write. Then somewhere I saw photographs of the sworn virgins in Albania and I realized what it cost for a woman to survive in a place where women don’t have enough rights and men have all the rights to go to the pub, to wear a gun, a watch.

So that was my first intention for writing that book. And of course, my traumas from my childhood—how these unwritten laws damaged the little girl in me. 

Farhan: As you said, you have had these experiences in Bulgaria, but interestingly the novel is set in Albania. Why did you decide to set your novel in Albania and not in Bulgaria where you have had all these experiences of women’s suppression and the subjugation of female identity?

Karabash: It’s very similar to the way of living there. The environment—everything is very similar to Bulgaria. Of course, we don’t have those laws that rule the land there, but more about the psychological dynamics in the family; it’s the same. I think that is what touches readers around the world, even the Western reader. On the surface, we can see a local, exotic topic, but if you dive into it, you find those relationships that we all have with our parents, our brothers, our sisters. It’s somehow a story about that universal soul and its wounds.

Farhan: What kind of research did you do so that you could set your novel in Albania while you have not visited AlbaniaI visited Albania through Google Maps. I still haven’t visited yet. I know that Tirana is a really nice, modern city, but those remote places in the mountains are dangerous for a girl to go to.

Well, I read a lot of books. It took me two years to do that research and to study the laws of the Kanun. I read books by Ismail Kadare and also a lot of interviews and documentaries about the sworn virgins who live there. But I found the life very similar to our way of living here in a village in Bulgaria. That’s why I think I made such a true story that you cannot say I haven’t been there.

Farhan: The narrative goes back and forth in a nonlinear form. What made you choose this form of narrative?

Karabash: I think that the form chose me. It’s that voice that appeared and started to tell the story in this fragmented way, without full stops and capital letters. That gave me a lot of freedom, first of all, to jump in different times and sequences and space. But that also helped me to bring the reader closer to the main character, Bekija. That was important for me because she’s an unreliable narrator. It’s easier when the reader is close to the characters—because they are in her mind—for her to lead them and to lie to them.

Also, of course, that kind of free writing reflects on her nature of wanting and longing to be free. She’s in a prison there, but in her mind she is free and jumps to different times and places. That freedom for the reader is really great because there are some places where you cannot say when that scene happened. I give that freedom to the reader to choose if a certain scene happened or if both happened. This is somehow involving the reader in the storytelling.

Farhan: Did you also enjoy that freedom with no full stops, no punctuation?

Karabash: Yes! It was a real joy for me and entertaining to create that style of writing, because I was exploring it while I was writing the book. That’s why, by the way, when I started writing my new novel, I thought that was my style of writing. But when I started writing in that stream-of-consciousness style, I felt really weird. Then I realized that this was the language of that certain book, She Who Remains, and now I need to find the voice and the language of the other book. I think all authors have to do that and not repeat themselves, because every book has its voice.

Farhan: Izidora, as the novel is written with no punctuation and no full stops, how difficult was it for you to translate? 

Izidora Angel: It was difficult, but not because of the experimental form. It was difficult because I wanted to do it justice. When you translate, you have to make thousands of decisions regarding rhythm, tone, and breath. You aren’t just transferring meaning; you’re translating the pressure, the silence, the subtext, and what is or isn’t there. You even have to look at a movement from both sides: if you’re opening a door, what does that movement look like from the other side?

You aren’t just transferring meaning; you’re translating the pressure, the silence, the subtext, and what is or isn’t there.—Izidora Angel

Rene is so visual and cinematic in how she writes that it demanded I see that world. But actually, it wasn’t difficult to translate because I wasn’t struggling to create something that wasn’t there; everything is already on the page and it’s so good. When you work with really good material, it’s the greatest gift you can have as a translator. In that sense, it was difficult to keep to this very delicate line because, in a single passage, you move the chronology, change the time, and change the point of view. All of a sudden someone is speaking, then it’s dialogue, then someone is remembering something. It sounds complex and jarring, but on the page, it isn’t because it was done so well. My job was made easier because the material was so good.

Farhan: Many of the chapters are in the form of poems. Was it because you find poetry more sharply intense for the reader? What was the idea behind using poems in the novel?

Karabash: I always look for poetry no matter what I’m doing—writing literature, making theater, or cinema. This is my way of thinking and writing. It was not an explicit aim to write a poem, but the book starts with a poem that is divided into parts reflecting different parts of the plot. The book can even be read like a long poem. I like magical realism, and poetry helps me represent how I see and feel things in the best possible way.

You can see that even my chapters are like poems. They finish with a twist or something unexpected. You can see the structure of a poem in them.

Farhan: You seem to have researched enormously for the novel. How did you come to know about the medical condition “fetus in fetu” and to contextualize it in the novel?

Karabash: I used that medical form as a metaphor for Bekija, who is carrying her brother—the boy in herself—the whole time. She gives birth to that boy in the end, which is how she releases him and comes back to her female nature.

Recently, I realized that this phenomenon actually happened to my girlfriend’s mother. Also, regarding the movie—which I hope will come out by the end of the year—we engaged an artist to make embryos in an aquarium. When the director met the woman who had to make those fetuses and told her she had to create “fetus in fetu,” she started crying. She said it happened to her, but nobody knew. It was a very strange coincidence, but I believe there are no coincidences. As Carl Jung says, it is perfect synchronicity.

Farhan: As in the novel, Kanun seems to be a kind of state apparatus that is socially vindicated (by patriarchy) suppressing female identity. How much do you believe in the far-reaching effects of fiction breaking the complicity of state and patriarchal notions?

Karabash: Well, I don’t think my book could break those laws, but I think in a milder version of the patriarchal laws, literature can perform magic. Here in Bulgaria, a lot of women have started to question if they are in that position metaphorically. Some men who have read the book have started to analyze how they treat women.

I think one book can make a change for sure, though maybe not in a stricter society—only where patriarchal laws are not so vivid or strong, though they exist anyway. I believe any book has the power to change people and nations. I often give the example of the Brazilian author Itamar Vieira Junior, who wrote two beautiful novels about slavery in Brazil. His book covers were even used as slogans during riots for those rights. There is also a video of the president of Brazil calling him to tell him there is a change and to thank him. I really believe in the power of literature to change the world.

I really believe in the power of literature to change the world.—Rene Karabash

Farhan: Which books have impacted you, or which authors have influenced you? Could you name two or three?

Karabash: I really love Latin American authors—Argentine, Brazilian. I like magical realism a lot; maybe that’s why, because they write in that style. I like Julio Cortázar’s books and poetry. Also, Clarice Lispector from Brazil; I think she was a genius. And Jorge Luis Borges. I like literature that makes you question if reality is a dream or if the dream is reality.

Farhan: You possess an interesting combination of arts—acting and writing. Do these two art forms somewhere complement each other for you?

Karabash: They are very close to each other. When I’m acting, I leave only 10 or 15 percent of my brain to think about the specific character or the text. It’s the same with writing. The rest of the percentage is for entering into yourself and trying to show the truest picture of yourself.

It’s like meditation. I cannot do guided meditations where someone tells me, “Do this, close your eyes, think about this.” It distracts me. I cannot enter into myself if someone is talking because my brain starts listening. If you are in your brain listening to instructions, you cannot enter yourself and do the work. Writing is the same; if you are too much in your brain, you won’t make something good.

I think translation is similar. Of course, you have to think about the proper word or phrase, but you also have to be in a different state of mind to feel that energy. You don’t only think; you feel while you are translating. Izidora can add something to that.

Farhan: This question is for both of you, as you are both on the International Booker shortlist: How do you see yourselves as writers and translators in the future, and how does it feel to be on that shortlist?

I like literature that makes you question if reality is a dream or if the dream is reality.—Rene Karabash

Karabash: I just want to write books. Of course, it’s a pleasure to meet readers all around the world, and I feel a responsibility toward people. Everything I write from now on might be looked at through a bigger lens.

But for me, the most important part is to keep the natural writer in myself and not be influenced by success or the “noise” around me. I’m looking forward to this period ending so I can start my new novel. I am a writer, not a circus monkey. I don’t want to be a circus monkey all the time. It’s fun, but writing is what matters most to me.

Angel: I feel similarly. Obviously, it’s a tremendous success and honor. My daughters and husband were with me when we got the phone call that we were longlisted; we were all crying and hugging. It was an unforgettable moment. Ever since then, it’s been nonstop. My adrenaline is going, but I think I need to unplug for a minute.

After the ceremony in London, I’m going to a writing residency to work on my memoir. I will disconnect completely for three weeks. I can’t be a circus monkey either. As much as I enjoy engaging with people, it’s exhausting to be giving of yourself all the time. We’ve been giving interviews nonstop for a month. It’s what you work toward, but there has to be balance. I’m working on restoring that.

Farhan: As I said earlier, this novel is quite experimental and inventive. As a translator, what was specifically challenging for you?

Angel: A translator is the closest reader an author can have. Rene says she “undresses” herself for the reader; well, I’m in that room while she’s doing it. I have to “undress,” too, in a way. You have to enter the text, break it down to its core, and then rebuild it. You have to keep in mind everything Rene intended, what is implied, what is omitted, the pauses, the friction, and the pressure.

But because I’m Bulgarian and Bulgarian was first in my bones, it’s in there in a way that cannot be removed. That affects my priorities as a translator. I’m not someone who’s just visiting Bulgaria and coming back; I come from there. The rhythm for me was really important—to keep this beat that’s very Balkan. So that meant leaving some words and phrases not necessarily in the most obvious way in English, but it worked. It felt like an achievement to have the meaning in English while keeping some of the music of the Balkan aspect.

It felt like an achievement to have the meaning in English while keeping some of the music of the Balkan aspect.—Izidora Angel

Farhan: When I first picked up the book, the title She Who Remains was such a succinct, clear title. When I finished, the title resonated with me because it reflects the perseverance and resistance of female identity. When you were translating it, what was in your mind? It is a very difficult job to translate a title.

Angel: I think the title ended up being really great. Keep in mind the title is not the same in all the languages the book has been translated into. In Bulgarian—I believe you took the Serbian name of a “sworn virgin”—Serbian is linguistically very close to Bulgarian. Rene chose that word because in Albanian it means “burnesha.” Think back to what we were talking about with gendered nouns; it is a single word, but it contains so much. It represents a female who is staying; the whole concept is in that one word.

When you break that apart, “she who stays” isn’t great because it goes against the idea of something that exists against all odds. If you are “staying,” that signals obedience to me. But if you “remain,” there is a sense of resistance. It felt like the right way to summarize what was happening.

Farhan: Bulgarian is a gendered language while English is not. How did you keep a balance between these two languages in your translation?

Angel: Yes, we have gendered nouns, but the speaker also genders themselves when they speak. There’s a lot of masculine and feminine even in inanimate objects. It can color a language in a really interesting way, but it also creates containers and categories that can be limiting. English doesn’t have any of that, so we have a very nice kind of in-betweenness that mimics the main character’s state of being quite well. There was no “pronoun game” really in the book, which I think was able to elevate it above everyday discourse.

Farhan: While translating the novel, were there some moments of translation disagreement between you and Rene?

Angel: We were perfectly in sync. And she’s very generous. A lot of authors treat their book like a holy text, especially if they speak some English, they feel like they can sort of tell you how to do it. But Rene speaks beautiful English and has had this book translated into eighteen or nineteen languages now. So, she’s working with all those people, and she was a dream to work with.

I mean an absolute dream. She was so generous. She was just like, “Yeah, take it.” If she had any question or I had any idea, we discussed it. Luckily, we’re extremely online—we're chatting on Instagram, email, messenger at all times, especially now when there’s so much excitement and movement. But no, it was really a dream.

Farhan: I believe that just as writers have individual styles, translators have their own individual styles of translating. While you were translating this novel, what was your personal experience and style?

Angel: My style as a writer is polished but pretty sharp. When I translate, I look at how every word has a spectrum of meanings you can lean into. You have to decode how the author meant it and decide how far to dial the tone up or down. Sometimes you go for the simplest word choice; other times you lean into the spectrum to make it stronger.

I don’t come from academia. I didn’t study translation or have an MFA. I’ve noticed that people from academic backgrounds can get very precious with words and guide them gently, but that’s not how I approach it. I “freight train” through the text; it’s very instinctual. There was good chemistry with this text; it met me exactly where I was. At the same time, every book I translate teaches me so much about fiction, setting, and development. Even without degrees in literature, every translation feels like a little master’s degree or a certificate of accomplishment.

Farhan: Are you both currently working on any projects, perhaps together?

Karabash: I’ve been working on my new novel for three or four years with some pauses. Now I want to finish it. I even sent Izidora the first two or three chapters.

Angel: It’s so good. I can’t wait to see it. I can only hope that Rene and I will continue to work together because it feels like magic. It’s been one of the most rewarding things in my life; it would be an honor to do that for sure.

Karabash: For me, too. I also wanted to add that I'm making a theatrical adaptation of the book (She Who Remains). A theater director and I want to stage it in Bulgaria, but it will also be staged in Italy and Greece.

Farhan: And Izidora, we would like to hear about your upcoming projects as well.