reading

ISBN 978-0-9926186-1-2

Dedicated to the memory
of our friend
Professor James Riordan

(1936-2012)

Professor James Riordan was an English academic, writer and the best translator of Chingiz Aitmatov's works into English. His book Mother Earth and Other Stories includes his translations of Aitmatov's works like The First Teacher, Jamilia, Camel Eye and Spotted Dog Running Along the Seashore. He received the International Chingiz Aitmatov Award in 2011.

A Few Words about James Riordan

James William Riordan was born on 10 October 1936 in Portsmouth into a working-class family. Portsmouth always felt like home to Jim and he loved living there in a flat with a view of the sea which he could see from his writing table. Jim's mother had to bring him up on her own from the age of about two and they lived in a house full of aunts and uncles in rather cramped conditions. As a major naval base, Portsmouth was heavily bombed during the war and Jim was evacuated to Cornwall, like many children: later on, he was to look back at this time as one of the most miserable in his life - he would have much preferred to stay with his family. After the war, he went to junior school in Portsmouth and one day, on Boxing Day in 1944, his Uncle George, a jolly sailor from Aberdeen, took Jim to Fratton Park, home of Portsmouth football club, to watch them play Crystal Palace. He was just eight at the time, and the atmosphere at the match was so passionate and exciting that it was at that moment he fell in love with football and he remained one of 'Pompey's' most faithful supporters to the end of his life.

At that time in Britain, pupils going on to 'senior school' at the age of eleven, had to take an examination called the 'Eleven Plus', which, even at that early age, determined what kind of education they would receive right up to the age of sixteen and beyond. Children that passed the examination went on to a grammar school but, for those that failed, a less academic education was in store. Many children of aspirational and mostly middle-class parents had their children coached for the exam since it was generally regarded as rather difficult. Jim, of course, had none of this extra help and contrary to all family expectations, he passed and was awarded a place at the local grammar school - Portsmouth Southern Grammar School for Boys. It was there that Jim discovered the second love of his life - literature. There were very few books at home and reading anything other than the local paper was regarded as strange. One of his relatives once said to him, 'All that reading will make you go blind!' Jim did well in his O level exams, then went on to study French, German, Latin and Economics at A level; again, he passed them well. Modest as ever, Jim put his success in languages down to hard work, since no one else in the family had ever studied foreign languages before.

One of the chief differences between a grammar school, and the alternative - the 'secondary modern school', was that the ethos of the former was to go on to study at university, which very few working-class children even thought about, let alone achieved: to go on to higher education was generally seen as deserting one's class and betraying one's background - studying at university was only for the 'toffs'. So there was great pressure from the family to go out and find a 'proper job'. Hence, Jim worked as a hotel boot boy, dance-band musician (he played the double bass), postman, railway enquiries clerk and crate stacker at the brewery - he must have been the best qualified person ever to have done such jobs!

In post-war Britain compulsory 'National Service' for men was introduced in 1947 to enlarge the armed forces. Jim began his two-year National Service in 1954, although he hated what he regarded as anti-Soviet brain-washing in the services during this period of heightened international tension known as the 'Cold War'. It was the British government's policy to train people to learn Russian on the premise of 'getting to know the enemy'. Anyone with linguistic aptitude was selected to study Russian and this suited Jim just fine as he was a pacifist at heart. Although he did not yet know it, this choice - made for him and not by him -was life-changing; it determined his career and the course of the rest of his life.

After National Service, Jim went to Birmingham University to carry on studying Russian and it was there that, having attended a Marxist discussion group, he joined the Communist Party in 1959. He was subsequently chosen as a Party delegate to study in Moscow at the 'Higher Party School' for a couple of years, and when he had finished his studies there, he was employed as a translator for Progress Publishers in Moscow.

The Higher Party School in Moscow was a flagship institution and it invited Soviet celebrities to speak to the students. It was there that Jim saw Yury Gagarin, the first man in space. He also met famous, even infamous, people, such as the Cambridge spies Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean and at official receptions found himself sitting next to people of world renown, such as Khrushchev. Another cosmonaut he met was the world's first spacewoman - Valentina Tereshkova who, as Jim recalled, said to him, 'Call me Valya and get me another vodka!' He found it hard to believe that a working-class 'Portsmouth lad' like him - or 'oik', as he used to describe himself with his characteristic modesty - was rubbing shoulders with such internationally-famous people.

While working for Progress Publishers, he started collecting material for his PhD on sport and, as a former member of the Higher Party School, he was able to gain access to materials that no other foreigner could. His dedication to work and love of his subject was a constant throughout his life; he loved working - writing and reading - and even in retirement he would still get up at 6.30 and work until 1 pm.

In Moscow, Jim played football with members of the ex-pat community connected to the British Embassy, and he also regularly attended training sessions at Spartak football club. One day he got a call from the team manager: one of the players had got so drunk before the match that he couldn't even stand, let alone play football, so Jim was put into the team to prove his worth. Nervous and anxious not to let the side down, he played well - his height being an advantage for him; it was not the last time he was to play for the team.

His daughters Tanya and Nadine were born in Moscow, but life there wasn't easy and he decided to return to Britain. He trained as a teacher, completed his thesis at Birmingham University - the first academic to make a serious study of sport in Soviet Society - and did some lecturing at Portsmouth Polytechnic. Further children came onto the scene, Sean, Nathalie, then Catherine, and Jim secured a full-time post at Bradford University in 1971, teaching Russian. He was a prolific researcher and writer, publishing regularly on topics as diverse as sport under communism, as well as sport in European cultures, youth culture, sexuality, folklore, cinema, history, etc., and he also translated literature from Russian into English. He was promoted to professor - well-deserved recognition for all his hard work. After eighteen years in Bradford, Jim took up a post at the University of Surrey in 1989. While at Surrey, Jim continued publishing and writing, and he also earned a fellowship from the Royal Society for the Encouragement of Arts, Manufactures and Commerce and expanded his workload to include Directorship of the International Sports Studies Centre. He taught at Surrey until his retirement as Emeritus Professor in 2002, but he remained academically active with appointments as Honorary Professor in Sport Studies, University of Stirling, Scotland (2003) and Visiting Professor in Sport Studies, University of Worcester (2006). He made a number of highly acclaimed programmes for BBC Radio on Russian writers who were repressed under Stalin and he wrote a regular column for his local newspaper in Portsmouth.

In retirement, one of the great joys in his life was writing for children and reading his own stories and those of others to them. He often made guest appearances in local libraries: he could hold a room full of fidgety children spell-bound for ages with his wonderful, warm delivery and great sense of humour. Several of his children's books were nominated for and won prizes.

Jim died in February 2012, sorely missed by his family, friends and former colleagues - he was a big man with a huge presence and he has left a similar void in our hearts, but his name lives on through his work, especially his wonderful translations - not least of which are those of Aitmatov's moving stories. Jim was a great fan of Aitmatov, whom he knew personally, and for him, translating his beautiful prose was not work - it was a labour of love, and this comes through in the stories.

Before his untimely death, Jim willingly bequeathed the rights of his translations to the Aitmatov Academy, so that they could be republished, in order to inform and delight new generations of readers - especially the young. Such was his firm conviction of the importance of Aitmatov as a world-class writer and his works, and that they should be better known by the English-speaking world. Thanks to the tireless efforts of the Aitmatov Academy and Dr. Rahima Abduvalieva, the names of both Chingiz Aitmatov and Jim Riordan will live on for generations to come.

Dr David Holohan,

Longstanding family friend and former colleague.

Chingiz Aitmatov

Camel Eye

Translated from the Russian

by James Riordan

UK, 1989

Aitmatov Academy

2013

Camel Eye

Before I had half a bucketful of water from the spring, a furious yell rang out over the steppe, 'Hey you, Professor, I'll bash your face in if you don't hurry up!'

I stood stock-still, listening. My name is actually Kemel, but I got the nickname 'Professor' here. So be it. The tractor on the far side was ominously silent. It was Abakir promising to bash my face in. He would be yelling at me again, cursing, maybe even taking a swipe at me. There were two tractors and only one of me. I was supposed to fetch water and fuel, oil and everything else they needed on my one water cart. Each day the tractors moved farther away from the only spring within miles, farther away from our field camp, the only place that contained our fuel tank. We did try to shift it, but gave up - it was handy for the water. But a fellow like Abakir couldn't care less; as he put it, 'I'll bash your face in if you hold me up. I'm not flogging my guts out for some snotty-nosed student.'