Can a Nation Be Translated? The Many Philippines Hidden Inside Philippine Literature

An Interview with Author and Translator Ana Margarita Nuñez on Language, Identity, and the Challenge of Translating a Nation

Words by Mye Mulingtapang

Philippine literature often reaches international readers through translation, but the journey begins long before a book crosses national borders. In this conversation, author, translator, and academic Ana Margarita Nuñez reflects on multilingualism, regional identity, cultural translation, and why the greatest challenge may not be translating Filipino literature into other languages, but translating the many Philippines that exist within the nation itself.

Discussions about Philippine literature in translation often focus on the moment a foreign publisher discovers a book. Yet the process frequently begins much earlier. In a country with more than a hundred languages, many literary works must first cross linguistic boundaries within the Philippines itself, moving into Filipino or English before they can reach international audiences. 

Each stage of translation involves more than the transfer of words. It requires negotiating cultural contexts, regional identities, and differing worldviews, raising questions about how meaning shifts as a text moves from one language to another. The challenge is not simply what may be lost in translation, but how a work is continually reshaped as it travels across multiple linguistic and cultural landscapes.

Born and raised in Mindanao but professionally shaped by academic and literary circles in Manila, Nuñez often finds herself moving between different linguistic and cultural worlds. As a writer from Mindanao, she is frequently labeled a "regional" writer, yet much of her teaching, publishing, and scholarly work takes place within institutions centered in the nation's capital.

“First of all, within the Philippines, I am a writer from Mindanao, a “regional” writer. But my academic career and publications have largely happened in Manila. I have to do a lot of cultural and linguistic translation in my writing and teaching. To do that, you have to evoke certain modes of thinking, certain mindsets, in readers and students”, says Nunez.

That position requires a constant act of translation—not merely between languages, but between ways of seeing the world. Whether writing, teaching, or engaging with readers, Nuñez must often bridge differences in cultural assumptions, historical references, and regional experiences. 

Communicating across these divides means helping others understand not only unfamiliar words but also the perspectives and mindsets that give those words meaning. Long before Philippine literature is translated for international audiences, she suggests, many Filipino writers are already translating their realities for fellow Filipinos.

Nuñez describes Mindanao, like Manila, as a cosmopolitan area where indigenous languages exist alongside languages from Luzon and the Visayas. Living there means having access to many kinds of narratives—national and institutional ones, as well as local stories that reflect the realities of particular communities.

At the same time, she points to a disconnect between what is taught and what resonates. Canonical Philippine literature, including the works of Rizal, often makes more sense within Manila, where it emerged and speaks to the historical and cultural context of the political centre. 

In Mindanao, these texts are taught in schools but are not always enjoyed in the same way because they do not resonate as strongly with local experiences. Meanwhile, narratives that might speak more directly to people in the region are often ignored or rarely taught because they fall outside the national curriculum.

For Nuñez, this reveals a larger truth about both literature and identity. The Philippines contains multiple histories, languages, and ways of understanding the nation, many of which exist outside the dominant narrative.

As she observes, "While it may be possible to see the Philippines or Filipino identity as a singular entity from outside, or the vantage point of the political centre, it isn't."

That insight sits at the heart of the translation question. Before Philippine literature can be translated for international readers, there is already a process of translation taking place within the country itself—between regions, languages, and competing narratives about what the Philippines is and who gets to define it.

Literary translation is one of the most powerful tools for sharing cultures, preserving linguistic diversity, and expanding readers' understanding of the world. Every translated work serves as a window into another society, allowing stories to travel across generations, languages, and borders. When international publishers translate a Filipino novel into English, Dutch, German, or French, the process is often described as a bridge between cultures. 

Nuñez emphasizes that literary translators play a creative role in the publishing process. Their task is not limited to reproducing meaning but also involves conveying style, tone, cultural references, and emotional nuances. In this sense, translators become co-authors who help determine how a work will be received in another language and culture. Translators are not simply linguistic intermediaries; they act as co-creators who help shape a text for a new audience while preserving its original spirit.

A good translator not only has a perfect command of the languages involved but also a broad understanding of the cultures and customs of the countries they translate from. This is especially important when translating fiction or nonfiction books, which often contain specific references to the culture or history of the source country. Translating books can also present technical challenges, such as the need to adjust the length of the text or find suitable equivalents for expressions or concepts that don't have an exact translation in the target language.

Quality is crucial, as an inaccurate translation can lead to a distorted understanding of the content, altering the meaning of the work. Furthermore, an incorrect translation can cause cultural misinterpretation, making it difficult to understand expressions, idioms, or specific cultural references.

Translation is rarely a straightforward transfer of meaning. Every literary work contains words, rituals, and cultural references that resist easy translation, forcing translators to make difficult decisions about what to preserve, what to explain, and how a culture will ultimately be understood by readers encountering it for the first time.

Every translation requires interpretation. For Nuñez, some of the greatest challenges arise when a word carries cultural meanings that cannot be easily transferred into another language. Rather than seeing these moments as obstacles, she treats them as opportunities for creative problem-solving.

One example appears in Genevieve L. Asenjo's Lumbay ng Dila, where she had to translate the word mano, a familiar Filipino gesture of respect in which a younger person touches an elder's hand to their forehead. While often simplified as "asking for a blessing," Nuñez felt that the translation failed to capture the physical act and its cultural significance. Instead, she retained the original term, writing that the character "made mano," preserving a tradition that reflects both respect for elders and an important aspect of Filipino identity.

The novel also presented challenges in translating poetry, where words can carry multiple layers of meaning. Nuñez worked carefully to preserve not only the literal sense of the text but also its emotional and symbolic nuances, demonstrating how translation is often as much an act of interpretation as of language.

For decades, the global literary canon has been shaped by a relatively small number of countries and languages, leaving many literary traditions largely invisible to international readers. Philippine literature is among those traditions that remain underrepresented in translation, despite the country's vast wealth of stories drawn from its many languages, histories, and cultural experiences.

As more publishers invest in translating Filipino works, they open a window into narratives that extend far beyond familiar representations of the Philippines. These stories encompass spiritual and supernatural traditions, colonial and precolonial histories, contemporary conflicts, migration, diaspora, and the complexities of everyday life. They also challenge the idea that Philippine literature can be reduced to a single voice or national narrative.

Nuñez emphasises that the value of translation lies not only in expanding readership but also in expanding understanding. The more Filipino works become available across languages, the more opportunities readers have to engage with the diverse and sometimes contradictory stories that make up the Philippines. Rather than reinforcing a single idea of the nation, translation invites broader conversations about identity, history, language, and whether concepts such as national literature can ever fully capture the complexity of a country as diverse as the Philippines.

The Philippines, according to her, is a country with plenty of stories—spiritual and supernatural lore, colonial and precolonial history, modern conflicts, diaspora, and so on and our writers are exquisitely sensitive to human drama. The world deserves to be enriched by these narratives. 

“When you say “Filipino literature,” you’re talking about plenty of stories in many different languages that may even contradict each other. You can’t put them under a single “brand” without doing them a disservice. You need to be able to translate so many of them for readership both inside and outside the country to begin to understand what the Philippines is like. Maybe that’s what we should be talking about—is there really such a thing as a “national” literature? And how stable—or tenuous—are the ideas and institutions that hold what we call a nation together, anyway”, shares Nuñez.