2003) about the use of forced labour during the construction of Austriaâs largest power plant at Kaprun; the plays Bambiland (2003) and Babel (2005) about media representations of the war in Irak; Ulrike Maria Stuart (2006) about the legacy of the 1970s Red Army Fraction terrorists in Germany; à ber Tiere (About Animals , 2007), about female and male desire, prostitution and sex trafficking, partly based on wiretapped phone conversations of a Vienna escort agency; Rechnitz (Der Würgeengel) (Rechnitz (The Exterminating Angel) , 2008) about the shooting of 200 Jewish forced labourers during a party at Rechnitz Castle at the end of the Second World War; Kontrakte des Kaufmanns. Eine Wirtschaftskomödie (The Merchantâs Contracts. An Economic Comedy , 2009) about the recent financial crisis; Kein Licht (No Light , 2011) about the nuclear catastrophe in Fukushima; and the new âsecondary dramasâ Abraumhalde (Slag heap , 2011) and FaustIn and out (2011), which both comment on the Fritzl case in Amstetten (among others) and are designed to be performed alongside the classical dramas of Lessingâs Nathan the Wise and Goetheâs Faust respectively.
The above list may give a glimpse of the subject matter of Jelinekâs plays and the way in which they both respond to current affairs and deal with repressed shameful histories. However, this list hardly captures the innovative and challenging nature of Jelinekâs form of playwriting. Her plays tend to lack a dramatic plot, psychological characters and sometimes even designated speakers. They have consequently been associated with the paradigm of postdramatic theatre (Lehmann 2006: 18 and 24). Her texts, which on the page often look like prose, consist of blocks of monologues made up of montages of playfully and deconstructively manipulated quotes from popular culture, the media, philosophy, poetry, classical drama and scientific literature, intermixed with what sounds like the authorâs own voice. Politically they intervene at the level of language and the way in which it affects our thinking. Jelinek here comesfrom an Austrian tradition of language philosophy and criticism, spanning from early Wittgenstein to Karl Kraus to the postwar âWiener Gruppeâ (Vienna Group) of avant-garde experimentation with language. Originally trained as a musician and a composer, Jelinek works with language in a musical fashion. Her rhythmic and polyvocal, relentlessly punning and alliterating form of writing makes language dance â and in doing so destabilises ideology and causes reflection.
As such, Jelinekâs texts present enormous challenges to directors and performers and, not least of all, to translators of her work. Gitta Honegger remarked that âJelinekâs linguistic deconstructions and the specificity of her critique of Austrian politics, traditions, and perversities have made translations nearly impossibleâ (Honegger 2006: 5). âNearlyâ is the operative word here, however, and Honeggerâs own fine translations are sufficient proof that translations of Jelinekâs texts are possible. In working with the translator Penny Black on the translation of Sports Play , I found that the unpredictable nature of Jelinekâs way of writing constantly keeps you on your toes and can easily trip you up. Faced with her poetic twists and turns and frequent shifts in registers, translators have to think on their feet and become creative âco-writersâ, finding analogous puns where these are impossible to translate literally, or even coming up with new puns and alliterations in the spirit of the text when the opportunity presents itself. They have to detect quotes and intertextual references to popular culture and literature and track down existing English translations of philosophical terms (Heidegger being a favourite candidate in Jelinekâs plays). And, last but not least, translators of her theatre texts have