Sonia Vseliubska / Tie2.lt

Tetyana Teren is one of the most important cultural figures in contemporary Ukraine. Tetyana is a journalist, cultural manager, curator of book projects and literary programs, and the executive director of PEN Ukraine, among other roles.

We invited Tetyana for an interview to discuss the demand for modern Ukrainian literature and the state of the book industry, the unique features of Ukrainian PEN during the full-scale invasion, and the accessibility of Ukrainian literature abroad.

I reflect on Ukrainian literature through the lens of Ukrainian cinema. For instance, today Ukrainian documentary cinema on international platforms serves as both a decolonial statement and a weapon in the fight for truth. Can we say that Ukrainian historical literature fulfills a similar function today?

I think this role is played today by all of Ukrainian culture, not just cinema, and this applies both to the situation within Ukraine and our communication with the outside world.

Since 2022, we have witnessed an increased interest among Ukrainians in their own history and culture. There are several reasons for this, but the main one is the desire to learn more about oneself, about one’s roots, at a time when you are being targeted for your identity and who you are. And although it is difficult to conduct any kind of statistical analysis during the war, packed halls at book events, an increase in the number of titles published, the emergence of new publishing houses, the opening of bookstores, the launch of classical literature series, and the creation of book clubs in various cities show that Ukrainians are reading more and seeking to understand their literature better.

During international appearances, I often have to remind people that Russia’s war against Ukraine did not start in 2022, or even in 2014, but several centuries ago. Thus, for other countries that want to understand the reasons behind this genocidal war and the threats posed by Russia, it is crucial to learn about Ukrainian history and culture—not the version rewritten, suppressed, and repressed by the empire, but the one only we can tell. That is why, when asked how to support Ukrainian culture today, I always say, please translate our books.

In interviews with Ukrainian critics and literary scholars at the start of the invasion, I observed a sentiment to prove to the international audience that Ukrainian literature can be integrated into the European and global context. How has this process evolved over the past three years? Does this challenge still exist?

Continuing the thought I expressed earlier, we need support to translate not only our contemporary works but also our classics. This is another way to refute the imperial narrative that “Ukrainian language and culture never existed” by demonstrating and proving that it has always been part of European cultural processes. Naturally, there has not been enough progress in this area—we can even say that such examples are still isolated cases. It is very significant that in recent years Ukraine has introduced a state translation program, Translate Ukraine, and established the Drahomán Prizefor translators of Ukrainian literature into world languages. However, amid war, the state lacks funds to support culture, making it essential to seek international support for these initiatives.

In recent years, I feel the world has only begun to discover Ukrainian culture, realizing that it has long been part of the European cultural sphere. This often comes as a surprise: “How did we not know about this?” I encountered this surprise this autumn at the exhibition In the Eye of the Storm: Modernism in Ukraine at the Royal Academy of Arts in London. I was delighted to hear enthusiastic remarks and astonished questions about why the world was unaware of these works and names before, yet it was also saddening. The empire destroyed many of these artists, and we will never know how their paths might have unfolded. Russia appropriated these names, and now the world is surprised to learn they were born and shaped in Ukraine. We have an extraordinary amount of work ahead—to remind the world of our names and return them to the global context.

Although PEN operates in many countries, it is clear that under the pressure of full-scale war, Ukrainian PEN is unique. What functions does Ukrainian PEN perform that are not found among your international colleagues?

I wouldn’t emphasize uniqueness, as each PEN center operates within the values and structure of International PEN but adapts to the challenges and needs of the cultural, media, and human rights communities in their countries.

Ukrainian PEN had to almost entirely change its work priorities after the start of the full-scale invasion. We retained our awards, festivals, and residencies while taking on new directions.

I’ll highlight a few of these. Support for the literary community during the war (through various scholarship programs we launched independently or with partners). Informing the international audience about Russia’s war against Ukraine (through monthly reports, advocacy work in other countries, and organizing visits of intellectuals to Ukraine). A new direction for us has been documenting Russia’s crimes against Ukrainian culture and media (monitoring losses, creating online memorials for fallen cultural figures and journalists, and conducting monthly volunteer trips to frontline and de-occupied territories).

Another focus is the restoration of cultural life in Ukraine. It was vital for us to open the PEN Ukraine Space in Kyiv in 2022, which has become one of the most active cultural hubs in the capital. All our events are charitable, raising funds for the army. Additionally, our initiative to support damaged and destroyed libraries, Unbreakable Libraries, has grown into a significant international project with numerous partners in Ukraine and abroad.

What is the state of government financial support for contemporary Ukrainian literature? How interested is the West in supporting modern Ukrainian literature?

State support for the cultural sector in Ukraine has essentially ceased due to the war. Culture, cultural diplomacy, and information policy, as we discussed earlier, are critical during a war against our identity and in the face of pervasive Russian propaganda. However, it is clear that supporting the military is the country’s priority in its struggle for the future. Therefore, it is vital for Ukrainian culture, as well as state and public organizations, to seek partner support to protect cultural heritage, sustain cultural institutions, and promote our culture abroad. Institutions willing to help Ukrainian culture during the war exist in many countries. This support has decreased compared to 2022, but we still have friends and partners, and it remains our task to strengthen these partnerships and seek new ones.

What does the Ukrainian reader love today? Can we distinguish whether the appeal lies more with the classics or with contemporary literature?

Again, it’s difficult to speak in terms of official statistics, so my conclusions are based on my observations and impressions. What do I see? New bookstores in different cities. An expanded selection of Ukrainian books (not long ago, some booksellers claimed it was impossible to run a store solely with Ukrainian publications—it turns out not only possible but thriving in multi-story shops). Book clubs discussing both new and classical works are appearing in various cities and countries. Poets fill entire halls. Recently, Serhiy Zhadan gathered a full Sports Palace—where else in the world would you see something like this?

My observations indicate a strong demand for poetry (Anatoliy Dnistrovy notes that poetry has always played an essential role in our history, helping express the inexplicable and elusive), texts by soldiers, books about the war and history, as well as our classics. Without imperial stereotypes and narratives long perpetuated by our education system, Ukrainian classics offer fascinating and essential insights into current events and a deeper understanding of ourselves. Additionally, Ukrainians are eager to learn more about certain periods of our history, particularly the 1920s and 1960s, which offer lessons and warnings for the present.

Millions of Ukrainians have left their homes and found temporary refuge in Europe, and for many, literature is a way to stay connected to their native culture. How accessible is Ukrainian literature, for example, in Lithuania?

It is difficult for me to assess the situation in Lithuania specifically, as I haven’t been there since the full-scale invasion, though I have traveled to many other countries for advocacy purposes. It’s essential to understand that preserving and spreading Ukrainian culture abroad is primarily the result of private efforts by Ukrainians themselves (often unsupported by our diplomatic missions). I believe in the importance and significance of these efforts, recalling how Ukrainian culture was preserved by previous generations of Ukrainians forced to leave their homeland.

Notable examples include the Ukrainian House in Denmark, the Obijmy educational and cultural center in Cyprus, the Ukrainian Institute in London, and cultural initiatives by Razom For Ukraine in the USA. I’ve also encountered active Ukrainian communities in Norway, Sweden, Catalonia, and Finland. These are incredibly impactful efforts that deserve our support. I wish we could find a way to ensure these communities or individual activists don’t feel disconnected from the state and to create a platform where they can share experiences and support each other.