2Her last book, Vremja sekond hènd (2013), translated into English as Secondhand Time: The Last of the Soviets and published by Penguin Random House in 2016, carries the reader through testimonies of former Soviet citizens. According to the French edition (2016 [2013]) back cover copy, in this book Alexievich “réinvente une forme littéraire polyphonique singulière, qui fait résonner les voix de centaines de témoins brisés”. And Masha Gessen perfectly summarizes the content of Vremja sekond hènd in the following lines: “the loss of the Soviet idea, the post-Soviet ethnic war, the legacy of the Gulag and other aspects of the Soviet experience” (2015: n.p.).

3The author herself explains the meaning of the original title, Vremja sekond hènd (Secondhand Time), in the prologue:

There’s a new demand for everything Soviet. For the cult of Stalin. […] Everything Soviet is back in style. “Soviet-style cafés” with Soviet names and Soviet dishes. “Soviet” candy and “Soviet” salami, their taste and smell all too familiar from childhood. […] Old-fashioned ideas are back in style: the Great Empire, the “iron hand,” the “special Russian path.” […] [T]here’s a ruling party, and it runs the country by the Communist Party playbook. […] [T]he future is, once again, not where it ought to be. Our time comes to us secondhand. (Alexievich, 2016: 11)

The first chapter of the book features stories collected between 1991 and 2001, in a time of remarkable territorial, political and social change as a result of the collapse of the former USSR. The witnesses hand down a vivid picture of their lives in the years of the October Revolution, Stalin’s Great Purge in the 1930s, World War II, and perestroika. The second part focuses on the years between 2002 and 2012, marked by the presidency of Vladimir Putin and the growing nostalgia for the Soviet era. Additionally, the volume has a prologue, where Alexievich provides her views on those “secondhand” times and testimonies.

4As Alexievich’s interlocutors recall past events on a regular basis, Vremja sekond hènd contains many varied historical references such as social phenomena, governmental institutions, locations of historical significance, state policy, historical figures, etc. For the latter, Szewczenko states that the book contains more than 113 names of personalities related to either culture or politics (2018: 263).

5These references tend to be sufficiently transparent to any Russian language reader, although it is necessary to clarify that this is not always the case. The level of understanding depends on the reference and, obviously, on each reader’s degree of knowledge, as well as on his or her age. In some cases, they know exactly what the reference is; in others, they are likely to have remote associations linked to a concept. However, Alexievich does not draw attention to this aspect, as Vremja sekond hènd contains only one footnote in which the author explains the meaning of a Polish term.

6Although the author may realize that her audience does not need clarification regarding the references to the USSR’s past, the situation changes when it comes to readers from other cultures. Thus, in the case of interlingual transfers, translators create their versions of this literary work for a target readership that is far-removed from Soviet culture. In this sense, we consider Vremja sekond hènd to be a good example to analyze how they deal with such intercultural challenges during the translation process.

7The main aim of this study is to examine the role played by footnotes in the interlingual translations of Soviet-era historical references in Alexievich’s Vremja sekond hènd. We believe that the use of this paratextual element, which serves to “assist readers in their understanding of the translation” (Haroon, 2019: 130), as well as “to help guide, to inform, or to define positions” (Jiang in Batchelor, 2018: 179), is an important tool for the translators to have at their disposal in order to establish to what degree they should intervene in the source text, and, therefore, the extent to which they should attempt to bring the content closer to the reader. Our central hypothesis is that the number of footnotes and the information they provide in the translated versions is likely to disclose how the publishers and the translators understand the genre of Alexievich’s literary works.

Footnotes and translation

11When it comes to the term footnote within the field of Translation Studies, we can note that it is frequently used in research papers. And moreover, footnotes are increasingly arousing the interest of scholars that carry out special research focused on this paratextual element (Paloposki, 2010; Toledano Buendía, 2013; Sánchez Ortiz, 2015; Haroon, 2019). For instance, Paloposki analyzes the use of footnotes in translations into Finnish, Sánchez Ortiz examines in detail the footnotes in several Spanish translations of The Picture of Dorian Gray and Haroon reviews their presence in a translated text published in Malaysia, the Malay translation of Hosseini’s novel A Thousand Splendid Suns. Meanwhile, Toledano Buendía uses Spanish translations of English novels in order to

provide a description of some of the contextual, pragmatic and functional features of translator’s notes as evidence of the richness of the practices and procedures that are hidden within this type of paratext in order to reveal the often under exploited potential of such data for Descriptive Translation Studies. (Toledano Buendía, 2013: 149)

At the same time, the term footnote appears in Franco Aixelá’s (1996) approach to translation analysis of culture-specific items (CSI), considered to be “[o]ne of the most clearly expounded taxonomies” (Davies, 2003: 70) in this area of study. According to this Spanish scholar, footnotes are one of the types of extratextual glosses that translators use “to offer some explanation of the meaning or implications of the CSI” (Franco Aixelá 1996: 62). Other examples of extratextual glosses are endnotes, glossaries, commentaries in brackets, etc. Franco Aixelá also stresses that some translators prefer intratextual glosses, when they “feel they can or should include their gloss as an indistinct part of the text” (ibid.). As Davies points out, “[w]hen simple preservation of the original CSI may lead to obscurity, […] the translator may decide to keep the original item but supplement the text with whatever information is judged necessary” (2003: 77). In this paper, we will use the terms extratextual glosses (this one will be used interchangeably with the term footnotes) and intratextual glosses to mean two different types of additional explanatory information in the translated texts.

12Mayoral Asensio and Muñoz Martín (1997) have studied the problem of additional explanations in the translation of cultural references. These authors point out that the decision to introduce notes or explanatory remarks within the text depends on the text type, translation strategies adopted, translator’s expertise, and target audience. In the case of literary works, Mayoral Asensio and Muñoz Martín recommend intratextual amplifications, as this type of glosses does not interrupt the flow of reading and does not make the distance between the source text and the translated one so obvious. However, in the authors’ opinion, footnotes distract readers and are more suitable for informational texts.

Identifying Alexievich’s literary genre

13In order to examine the use of footnotes in the case of translations of Alexievich’s Vremja sekond hènd, it is important to understand to which genre her literary work is normally attributed. First of all, we will look for considerations in this regard from the writer herself. The author’s position is stated through several sources, among which we can highlight the official website available in English and Russian, her speech on receiving the Nobel Prize for Literature, and her interviews.

15Alexievich creates a certain mystery around her work. She does not usually go into detail when it comes to explaining what exactly the “novels of voices” are. Neither does she explain what her working method is, or how she chooses the material, organizes the interviews, and decides which fragments to include in the books and in what order. Even though in several sources she speaks of the documentary nature of her narrative, more often than not she refers to it as literature.

16According to the Belarusian writer (Alexievich, 2015b), many accuse her prose of being a document and not literature. However, she is convinced that today there are no borders between reality and fiction, one flows into the other, and the content is formed by ruptures. We believe it is the key to understanding the author’s own vision: she admits that her books contain elements of fiction.

18Upon consulting the studies produced by researchers from outside the post-Soviet states, we come across the following proposed definitions of Alexievich’s texts (apart from “documentary novels”): “literary journalism” (Hartsock, 2015: 37), “oral history” (Szewczenko, 2018: 58), “testimonial literature” (Lugarić Vukas, 2014: 19), “fictional testimony” (González González, 2018: 91), “prayer genre” (Sajni, 2013: 17), etc. Some of the analyzed papers explicitly state the position of their author in favor of or against the theory of the fictional nature of the work created by the Belarusian writer. For instance, according to González González, the fictional component enriches the text adding value to it. The fictional nature of Alexievich’s books is also highlighted in Hniadzko’s (2018) thesis.

19Nevertheless, most researchers define Alexievich’s prose as non-fiction. For example, Gessen stresses that the writer was inspired by stories she had heard in her childhood (2015: n.p.). And Hartsock insists that her books have a journalistic nature and that Alexievich contrasts the details of real life with the myths created by the state: “unlike in fiction, Alexievich is not creating a fictitious narrator” (2015: 37, 40).

20However, not all scholars share these visions. For instance, Ackerman and Lemarchand criticize the way Alexievich works with the sources (2009: 29, 31, 49). According to them, she tries to show the Western reader the “hidden reality” of the former USSR by distorting the testimonies and rewriting them in order to present a series of emotionally charged images in her prose. In the authors’ opinion, Alexievich’s narrative does not belong to journalism, but exclusively to literature. Pinkham and Hniadzko also find discrepancies in different editions of the writer’s books (Pinkham, 2016: n.p.; Hniadzko 2018: 153). They argue that Alexievich alters the data by changing the age and names of her characters, and by modifying some stories from one publication to another.

21At the same time, many researchers prefer to talk about a “hybrid genre” (Sajni, 2013: 21; Lugarić Vukas, 2014: 23; González González, 2018: 95) and emphasize that the Belarusian writer hovers on the boundary between journalism and fiction (Basova and Sinkova, 2009: 96; Hniazdko, 2018: 2). In this context, González González places Alexievich’s prose somewhere between testimony, journalism and narrative, highlighting its poetic component. This genre hybridity, inherent in Alexievich’s work as well as in many other contemporary texts, has been studied by several scholars and has been labeled in the academic literature as “reality literature” (Jablonka, 2014) or “factographies” (Zenetti, 2014).

22Another way of approaching Alexievich’s work can be suggested in one of Vidal Claramonte’s (2019) papers in which she analyzes Elena Poniatowska’s La noche de Tlatelolco. Just as the Belarusian writer interviewed the Soviets, Poniatowska collected testimonies from witnesses of the student massacre in Mexico in 1968 and published them in a book. Following Bastin (2006), Vidal Claramonte qualifies this work as “oraliture” and explains that these testimonies themselves are oral translations of history and, in turn, the Mexican writer is the one who translates these translations intralinguisitcally in order to make them visible to the public (2019: 69). According to this perspective, we can also consider the stories told by Alexievich as translations of reality.

23Meanwhile, what do publishers think about the genre of Alexievich’s narrative? To answer this question, we have consulted the editions of Vremja sekond hènd, the text we are analyzing in this paper. Thus, Vremja, the Russian publisher of the original, calls the work a “chronicle of documentary fiction”, a “polyphonic novel-confession”, in which “a little man” narrates his life. At the same time, the texts on the back covers of the Spanish, French and Portuguese editions call the work “requiem” and speak of a “very singular polyphonic literary form”. Finally, the US publisher Random House states that Alexievich uses “her distinctive documentary style” and does so by “combining extended individual monologues with a collage of voices”; Secondhand Time is characterized as “oral history”.

24International publishers, as well as translators, have to deal with this hybrid genre and make the decision on how to present Alexievich’s stories “at second hand” to different target readerships. In this respect, the inclusion—as well as the non-inclusion—of footnotes shows the degree of their intervention in the text and indicates the boundary between fiction and non-fiction in translations of the Belarusian writer’s legacy.

Vremja sekond hènd’s translations and translators

25As we have explained in the introduction, the aim of this paper is to study the use of footnotes in the case of Soviet-era references in four translations of Vremja sekond hènd. However, before proceeding to the analysis, we should take a closer look at the examined translations of this text and its translators.

26The French version, La Fin de l’homme rouge, ou le temps du désenchantement, was among the first translations of the book. This version was penned by Sophie Benech, who already worked on Začarovannye smert’ju, another book by Alexievich. Benech has been awarded several translation awards. Throughout her professional career, she has translated works by such figures of Russian literature as Isaak Babel, Liudmila Ulitskaya, Varlam Shalamov, etc.

27Benech confesses that she wanted to translate Vremja sekond hènd in order to make this work available to the widest possible audience:

Alexievich’s oral history gives us a picture of Russia and Russians that is far more insightful than what we typically find in the media. By deepening our understanding and lending nuance to our views of the country and its history, it encourages us to go beyond prejudices, clichés, and set opinions. (Benech, 2015: n.p.)

During the translation process, this translator was in contact with Alexievich via e-mail. According to Benech, the most challenging aspect was to convey the intonation of each interlocutor and to capture their way of thinking (and that of the writer herself). She also stresses that the stories collected by the Nobel Prize winner show enormous suffering, which the translator also experiences while translating them. As for the footnotes, the translator frequently uses this tool to explain a term, a historical figure or a cultural fact. Generally, her extratextual glosses are not extensive, and, in certain cases, she adds amplifications within the text.

28As we mentioned above, in France, the book was published under the title La Fin de l’homme rouge, ou le temps du désenchantement. As can be observed, the publisher preferred to avoid the concept of secondhand, probably not so transparent for French readers, and focused on the loss of hope attributed to the post-Soviet era. The 2016 edition is accompanied by a French translation of the Nobel Prize acceptance speech by Alexievich. Another interesting point is the addition of a chronology preceding the body of the text: this paratextual element helps to bring the text closer to the French audience. This chronology contains 34 references to historical and cultural events that occurred in the USSR—and later in Russia—since Stalin’s death.

29O Fim do Homem Soviético: um tempo de desencanto is the title of the Portuguese edition, published in April 2015. We believe that this version of Vremja sekond hènd was created under the influence of the French translation, mentioned above. First, we would like to highlight the title itself, which has much in common with La Fin de l’homme rouge, ou le temps du désenchantement both in structure and in the idea of the two-fold message. Secondly, the text on the back cover is practically identical to that of the French book. And finally, in this edition, the reader is provided with critics’ opinions, drawn from such media as Le Monde, Le Figaro Littéraire and France Culture. These three paratextual elements all indicate a connection between the French and the Portuguese versions.

30António Pescada, a translator of Vremja sekond hènd into Portuguese, has been awarded several translation awards and has an impressive curriculum. Throughout his professional career, he has translated the key works of Russian literature by Leo Tolstoy, Fiodor Dostoievsky, Boris Pasternak, Mikhail Bulgakov, etc. Unfortunately, Pescada did not make any public statements on his work with Alexievich’s narrative; at least, we have not been able to find any interview relating to it.

31Pescada regularly makes use of footnotes, many of which coincide textually with the French version. However, the book does not rely only on the footnotes provided in La Fin de l’homme rouge: the Portuguese translator omits many comments and adds others. The number of footnotes in this edition is lower than in the French text.

32El fin del “Homo sovieticus”, a Spanish edition, was published in the same year as the Portuguese edition and also shares similarities with the French version. On the one hand, the text on the back cover has much in common with that of La Fin de l’homme rouge. On the other hand, the book contains the same chronology with a slight modification: instead of 34 references, there are 33. The main difference is the amount of information provided and the location of the chronology: in the French edition, it precedes the body of the text, while in the Spanish edition, it is placed at the end of the book.

34Ferrer adopts a different approach to Benech and Pescada. In his text, we find only five footnotes. In contrast, this translator usually opts for the strategy of amplification within the text and enriches the translation with embedded information by means of intratextual glosses. The title of the Spanish edition is closer to the Portuguese and French versions than to the original.

35Secondhand Time. The Last of the Soviets. An Oral History, an English translation, was published in the United States and the United Kingdom in 2016. This version of the text stands out from the other three for several reasons. To start with, we can mention the title which closely resembles the original, Secondhand Time. Furthermore, it states that the book is an oral history, which means this work has a historical character. And, finally, it is important to note the abundance of extratextual glosses included in this edition. Virtually every unclear concept in the text is accompanied by an extensive footnote.

36We would like to focus on its translator, Bela Shayevich, a Russian artist living in the United States. Among all the translations analyzed, the English version is the only one to have been carried out by a native Russian speaker who was born in the USSR. Shayevich was awarded the TA First Translation Prize for Secondhand Time. According to the translator, the translation of Vremja sekond hènd transformed her way of seeing things (Shayevich, 2015). Like Benech, Shayevich reflects on all the pain that reading the work evokes in the reader, as well as in the translator: “Reading Alexievich, you face the helplessness of the individual before insurmountable geopolitical forces” (2015: n.p.).

Quantitative analysis of the corpus

38To perform a quantitative analysis on the use of footnotes in the four chosen translations, we have selected twenty historical references appearing in Vremja Sekond Hènd. These references can be divided into three groups: historical places (nine references), Soviet policy (five references) and commemorative days (six references). The table below (Table 1) serves to illustrate how the number of extratextual and intratextual glosses is distributed throughout the texts.

Table 1. Distribution of extratextual and intratextual glosses in Vremja Sekond Hènd (20 references)

Classification	Amplification	FR	PT	ES	EN
Historical places (9)	Extratextual gloss	4	2	-	4
	Intratextual gloss	1	1	5	1
Soviet State Policy (5)	Extratextual gloss	-	-	-	4
	Intratextual gloss	1	-	2	-
Commemorative days (6)	Extratextual gloss	3	-	-	3
	Intratextual gloss	2	1	4	2
Total (20)	Extratextual gloss	7	2	-	11
	Intratextual gloss	4	2	11	3

39The extracted data demonstrate how different the translators’ strategies were in attempting to overcome the exact same challenge. While Shayevich adds comments on practically all the unfamiliar references outside the USSR and Russia, Ferrer guides the reader through the elements of Soviet culture and history by incorporating limited explanatory data into the text as part of its internal narrative frame. A large number of footnotes in the English translation leaves us with the impression that we are dealing with a historiographical work. In contrast, the Spanish edition resembles a historical novel, as it focuses more on the feelings and tragedies of Alexievich’s interlocutors than on exhaustive data about the past. Meanwhile, the French version is in the middle ground: Benech provides footnotes in many cases, but not in all. She clarifies references selectively, without overusing extratextual glosses. The Portuguese translation is closer to the approach of the Spanish one: O Fim do Homem Soviético reminds us of a novel because of the scant number of explanations about the elements of the USSR’s past.

Qualitative analysis of the corpus

40We have chosen one example of each of the above-mentioned categories—historical places, Soviet policy and commemorative days—in order to study the content of the footnotes introduced to clarify the references. Firstly, we will analyze an example belonging to the group “Historical places”, toponyms that, besides referring to geographical objects, have remarkable historical importance, which is present in the collective imagination of the former Soviet citizens.

Table 2. Translation of an excerpt containing references to historical places (Magnitka and Vorkuta)

RU	Кто бы Гитлеру хребет сломал без Магнитки и Воркуты? (2019 [2013]: 276)
FR	Sans Magnitka et Vorkouta, qui aurait cassé les reins à Hitler ? (2016 [2013]: 372) FOOTNOTE: Magnitka est le nom donné au combinat métallurgique de Magnitogorsk, construit par des détenus. Le camp de Vorkouta était lui aussi tristement célèbre.
PT	Quem teria quebrado a espinha ao Hitler sem Magnitka e sem Vorkuta? (2018 [2015]: 257) FOOTNOTE: Nome dado ao complexo metalúrgico de Magnitogorsk, construído por presidiários.
ES	¿Acaso le habríamos roto la espalda a Hitler sin Magnitka y Vorkutá, sin el Gulag? (2015a: 355)
EN	How could we have broken Hitler’s spine without Magnitka and Vorkuta? (2016: 262) FOOTNOTE: Magnitka was the name given to the famous Magnitogorsk steel factory built by camp inmates. Vorkuta was an infamous forced labor camp.

42How do translators deal with this fragment? As shown in Table 2, all the translators perceive that Magnitka and Vorkuta have no known connotation for the readers, so they choose to transliterate these names and then interrupt the text to add clarification. The solution offered by Ferrer differs from those of the others; he is the only one who decides to include an intratextual gloss. In order to explain the references, he chooses the acronym Gulag, the infamous government agency in charge of forced labor camps: this term from the Soviet reality is well known abroad. By opting for this word, the Spanish translator changes the perspective of the sentence. While the Gulag is associated in Soviet society with Stalin’s repressions and reflects a negative connotation, the character mentions Magnitka and Vorkuta with pride.

43Meanwhile, other translators accompany these two references with brief footnotes. Comparing the three extratextual glosses, we observe similarities in them. The footnotes in French and English texts are almost identical, which leads us to believe that Shayevich consulted the French version that came out three years before Secondhand Time. On the other hand, Pescada limits himself to explaining the meaning of Magnitka and does not provide clarification on Vorkuta.

Table 3. Translation of an excerpt containing a reference to Soviet policy (osvoenie celiny)

RU	Я тоже помню: после школы мы собирались всем классом поехать на целину, презирали тех, кто отказывался […] (2019 [2013]: 8)
FR	Moi aussi, je m’en souviens : après la fin de l’école, toute notre classe avait l’intention d’aller défricher des terres vierges, nous méprisions ceux qui refusaient de le faire […] (2016 [2013]: 9)
PT	Também eu me lembro: depois da escola, toda a classe se reunia para ir para as terras virgens, desprezávamos aqueles que se recusavam [...] (2018 [2015]: 10)
ES	Recuerdo cómo, a punto de terminar el año escolar, toda la clase se preparaba para marchar a cultivar tierras vírgenes y cuánto despreciábamos a los que se escaqueaban. (2015a: 11)
EN	I remember it well: After we finished school. we’d volunteer to go on class trips to the Virgin Lands, and we’d look down on the students who didn’t want to come. (2016: 4) FOOTNOTE: The Virgin Lands Campaign was an agricultural reform strategy initiated by Nikita Khrushchev in 1953, the purpose of which was to increase crop yields rapidly by bringing a vast swath of land under cultivation. The Virgin Lands Campaign is also known for the severe food, housing, and machinery shortages faced by its workers.

45Table 3 shows that it is impossible to extract information from the original context about what the Soviets were going to do in the Virgin Lands, we only know that the students who did not want to go were looked down on. Benech and Ferrer sense a lack of data and solve it by including intratextual glosses: they add the verb cultivar (Spanish) and défricher (French). In this way, the exotic effect is preserved, and, at the same time, the concept is clarified. Pescada does not intervene in the text and limits himself to the linguistic translation of the term. Shayevich acts in the opposite way: she introduces an extensive footnote, in which she not only explains the meaning of the reference, but also provides historical details about this phenomenon.

Table 4. Translation of an excerpt containing a reference to commemorative days (May 9)

RU	На Девятое мая… в наш праздник… (2019 [2013]: 87)
FR	Le 9 Mai… C’était notre fête à nous… (2016 [2013]: 126) FOOTNOTE: Jour de la Victoire. La capitulation allemande a eu lieu le 8 mai 1945 tard dans la nuit, donc le 9 mai heure de Moscou, à cause du décalage horaire. Le choix de cette date était aussi une façon d’insister sur le fait que cette victoire était celle de l’Union soviétique et de Staline.
PT	No Nove de Maio… na nossa festa… (2018 [2015]: 84)
ES	Cada 9 de mayo… Esa era nuestra fiesta preferida… (2015a: 112)
EN	On May 9… our holiday… (2016: 85) FOOTNOTE: Victory Day. The Germans surrendered late at night on May 8, 1945, so it is celebrated on May 9 with the time adjusted to Moscow time. The choice of May 9 as Victory Day was also a way to emphasize the fact that the victory was the USSR’s and Stalin’s and not that of the Western powers.

46Now we will take a closer look at the translations of an example from the corpus relating to a Soviet holiday mentioned in Table 4. In the USSR—and later in its former republics—when referring to the day of the end of the Great Patriotic War, the term Den’ Pobedy ‘Victory Day’ (or simply Pobeda ‘Victory’) is used, as well as Devjatoe maja ‘May 9’. The Soviets celebrate it a day later than some of the other European countries because of the time difference.

47The date May 9 may be opaque to the unprepared reader, especially if it does not appear in the context of World War II. In France and in the U.S., it is celebrated on May 8, so by the closeness of the dates readers of these countries could deduce that it refers to Germany’s surrender. However, Spain and Portugal did not officially participate in World War II, hence the Spanish and Portuguese public does not have such a close link with this calendar day.

48In Vremja sekond hènd, this reference appears once (Table 4). One of Alexievich’s interlocutors, Marina Isaichik, states that May 9 is her favorite holiday, the official day of remembrance for the war. All translators apply the procedure of linguistic translation and keep the date in the text. While Ferrer and Pescada do not intervene further in the text and do not explain the meaning this day holds for the Soviets, Benech and Shayevich opt to include footnotes to clarify what exactly this day commemorates. When consulting these footnotes, we realize that textually they are similar. For instance, both translators specify why the USSR celebrated Victory Day later on. However, Shayevich’s extratextual gloss presents a slight change compared to that of Benech. While the French translator explains that the selection of the date was a way of showing that the victory had been possible thanks to the Soviet Union, Shayevich specifies that the intention of Stalin’s government was also to play down the importance of the participation of the Western powers in the war.

Conclusions

49The observed trends seem to confirm that the use of footnotes in Vremja sekond hènd is a vital tool for translators who wish to intervene in a text in order to provide additional information for readers in the target language. As a result, this can help us measure the extent to which they attempt to bring the content closer to the readership. For instance, Ferrer uses partial clarifications and always does so through intratextual glosses. Benech also keeps some concepts unexplained, and, on certain occasions, she opts for footnotes preferring them to enlargements within the body of the text. Shayevich adds extratextual glosses even if the meaning of a concept can be extracted from the context. This translator is by far the one who introduces the most comments and brings the translation closer to her audience. The Portuguese version has considerably fewer glosses compared to the others; Pescada barely deviates from the original.

50On the other hand, the decision (not) to resort to footnotes in the translated versions appears to be subject to translators’ and publishers’ attribution of Alexievich’s works to fiction, non-fiction or hybrid literary genre. As discussed above, the definition of the genre of Alexievich’s books is a controversial issue; while some consider them to be fictional literature, others attribute them to journalism and non-fiction. We believe that the translators’ decisions to use or not to use footnotes are closely related to their (and the publishers’) approach to the genre. In this context, we can recall Mayoral Asensio and Muñoz Martín’s (1997) idea about the connection between the type of amplification and the nature of the text.

51While some of the translators avoid definitions of certain historical references so as not to interfere with the thread of the narrative (Spanish and Portuguese versions), others choose to bring the text closer to the audience as much as possible by adding footnotes (English version). The result achieved by the first ones resembles a fictional work, while in the other case, we are dealing with non-fiction. It is worth noting that even the title of the US translation contains the clue, “oral history”, which automatically labels the book as non-fiction. Likewise, we have detected that in the French version these two approaches are combined: Benech manages to create a text that can be attributed to the hybrid genre. Although from other paratexts—as well as from the translators’ statements—it is difficult to decipher what the publishers’ and translators’ position is regarding Alexievich’s genre (perhaps the only edition that openly attributes it to non-fiction is Secondhand Time), we believe that the footnotes give clear hints as to the publishers’ policy towards Alexievich’s literary legacy.