The French-Iranian filmmaker turned author recently won the reader's choice award with her stunning portrayal of one woman's struggle with identity, fertility and family. 

In her debut novel Disoriental, filmmaker turned author N&eacute;gar Djavadi details one woman&rsquo;s struggle to contextualize herself within a world in which she feels unmoored.&nbsp; N&eacute;gar masterfully blends a traditional family history with a study of contemporary identity and, in doing so, takes the reader deep into the mind and soul of her protagonist.

The story follows Kimi&acirc; Sadr, a French-Iranian woman who, having fled Iran on horseback at the age of ten with her mother and sisters, had built a new life as a punk rock aficionado gallivanting around Europe before settling down in Paris with her now partner. As she sits in the waiting room of a Parisian fertility clinic awaiting the results of her IVF treatment, Kimi&acirc; is inundated with memories of her own life as well as stories of her ancestors as she struggles with the tug-of-war between tradition and modernity and her feelings &ldquo;disorientalization.&rdquo;

For her work, N&eacute;gar was just&nbsp;awarded the 2019 Albertine Award, which aims to introduce French-language fiction to English-speaking audiences. The prize, which is co-presented with Van Cleep &amp; Arpels, is voted on by the readers. &quot;It is a reader&rsquo;s choice award. It aims at showcasing major contemporary French-language fiction works&nbsp;to reach&nbsp;a diverse readership and voters. For many authors, this has much more value than a jury&rsquo;s prize, as it is a direct recognition from their readers,&quot; said&nbsp;B&eacute;n&eacute;dicte de Montlaur, the&nbsp;Cultural Counselor of the French Embassy in the United States.&nbsp;

Disoriental was also shortlisted for the National Book Award for Translation 2018 and won the Le Prix du Roman News, Style Prize, Lire Best Debut Novel 2016, and la Porte Dor&eacute;e Prize in France.

We caught up with N&eacute;gar to learn more about the success of her novel, her breakthrough into the American market, and what it means to be disoriental.

Négar Djavadi accepts the 2019 Albertine Award. Photography by Ian Douglas.

RYAN KILLIAN KRAUSE: Why do you think that English speakers, specifically Americans, do not consume a lot of translated works?

N&Eacute;GAR&nbsp;DJAVADI:&nbsp;I can&#39;t say I have a definitive opinion here, as I&#39;m not very familiar with the behavior of the American reader. I do know that foreign literature does not reach a large audience in the United States. To enter into the world of foreign literature, one must on the one hand be curious and willing to walk in the shoes of another culture and must wish to understand this essentially different world, but one needs also to accept that they are being told a story in a manner distinct from that which they are used to. Each culture has its own way of telling and constructing stories. Maybe the American public has yet to learn to develop this curiosity, or to feel at ease with other narrative approaches. For us non-Americans, the situation is simpler. Often, whether through television or film, we are familiarized with American culture early on.

RKK: When writing this book, was it important for you that your story transcend the francophone community?

ND:&nbsp;What is important to an author is above all else to be read, if possible by as a large a readership as possible. The notion of national or cultural borders does not exist in this desire; it is connected neither to a country nor to a tongue. Stories have this extraordinary ability to leave their authors to spread, to travel, to defy space and time. Each time my novel was translated into a new language, I had the impression of being a happy spectator of this voyage. It was a little as if I were watching, filled with wonder, a balloon flying in the air to new heights.

RKK: What is the relationship between yourself and Tina Kover? What makes for a successful writer-translator collaboration?

ND:&nbsp;I had the pleasure of meeting Tina Kover for the first time in the United States, when we were both nominated for the National Book Award. I first came to know her through her incredible translation of Disoriental. We had not previously seen one another in person but had kept in contact and become friendly via email and social media.

Early on, I did not want to interrupt or impede her in her work. Translation is an art in itself, not merely the transposition of words from one language to another. It is a rapport between translator and a book. I believe in granting a translator his or her freedom to interpret a book how they feel it ought to be interpreted; to take hold of the story and make it their own.

RKK: How would you define the term &ldquo;disoriental&rdquo;?

ND:&nbsp;I see the term &quot;disoriental&quot; as a neologism combining &quot;oriental&quot; and &ldquo;disoriented.&rdquo; I feel that this invented adjective applies very well to the story&rsquo;s protagonist, Kimi&acirc;, who is at the same time oriental and yet without the Orient; disoriented in her newfound life of exile, and then in her sexual identity. For me, the word opens up to another, not immediately noticeable aspect; one having to do with the climatic loss of the Orient: the loss of the sun, of the warmth and light that come with it. The sunlight affects one&#39;s growing up just as much as language.

RKK: The word oriental has an increasingly bad reputation amongst scholars because of its colonial connotation. How do you feel about the term?

ND:&nbsp;Personally, I don&rsquo;t feel the weight of the colonial connotation, quite simply because I didn&rsquo;t grow up in a colonized country. While Iran was at times a British protectorate, it was not colonized in the way that Algeria was, for one example. For me, the term &ldquo;oriental&rdquo; signifies simply &ldquo;of the Orient&rdquo;. I have no qualms with using it, to be honest. This region is so wrapped up in identitarian, religious and ancestral conflict. That one adjective&mdash;oriental&mdash;might unite all of these peoples under one term, signifying that they have something common among them, satisfies me.

RKK: Kimi&acirc;, the protagonist of your novel, is French-Iranian, like you. What is your notion of identity and how do you interact with it?

ND:&nbsp;For me, the question to be asked before anything else has to do with our identity in the eyes of others. In a way it&rsquo;s those around you who make you conscious of your identity, or who shut you up into it. This is why I try as much as possible to free myself of this question. What is it that signifies being Iranian, when one doesn&rsquo;t live or travel there, when one is not confronted with the daily problems of a repressed people? I have no resolute answer to this question. I do feel that I am Iranian by my memory, but not by my present.

RKK: In what ways do you identify with the protagonist? Did you also have a penchant for punk music growing up? 

ND:&nbsp;I belong to a generation of Iranians, born ten years before the revolution, that experienced the same changes and tragedies together, and came to adopt more or less the same perspective on life. I identify emotionally with Kimi&acirc;, just like I identify with so many of the girls and boys who, like myself, were there when the mullahs ascended to power and who left the country. Yes, like Kimi&acirc; I am interested in punk rock; unlike her, I see film as my &ldquo;third [home]&rdquo;, neither Iranian nor French. I have grown up with films more than I have with music.

RKK: Do you approach writing a novel differently than writing a screenplay? If so, how?

ND:&nbsp;A screenplay is not a definitive work: the true work is the film borne of it. A screenplay can be understood primarily as a tool that people in other departments must be able to use in order to do their jobs well. A screenplay needs to operate within the greater context of a production, to work well even in the face of concerns about the cost of putting it on-screen. In a screenplay, one can&rsquo;t write whatever one wants to, because doing so would be too expensive or because it would be difficult to film. On the other hand, a book is a free space, as much with respect to imagination as to language. One need not be concerned with commercial or industry-related exigencies when writing a book.

RKK: Have you read any of the novels that were nominated alongside yours for the Albertine Prize?

ND:&nbsp;Yes, I have read them all. All of these works have made incredible runs since their releases, and it goes without my saying that they are all strong and amazingly written novels!

RKK: How did you react once you found out that you had won the prize?

ND: It was an incredible surprise to be nominated for the prize, let alone to win it! I&rsquo;m touched particularly because the prizewinner was voted for by readers. There&rsquo;s something magical in knowing that people voted for Disoriental and that it was my work that was chosen from such a magnificent array of choices. I am also very happy for Tina Kover, and for the recognition that this prize has brought to her striking translatory work.

Author Négar Djavadi Awarded 2019 Albertine Award for Her Debut Novel "Disoriental"

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