ADVENTURES IN SQUARELAND, an excerpt from a novel

Chapter Three: The Frogs

By dusk, Foxie was over the mountain separating the Tranquil Forest from the rest of the world, and was now walking over hills overgrown with bushes and trees. The spot seemed like a nice place to spend the night. The croaking of frogs suggested there was a river somewhere nearby. As soon as he approached the river, the croaking sank down to a whisper – it seemed they had started conspiring amongst each other. The cub walked proudly through the frogs’ ranks and quenched his thirst in the river.

‘What’s all the noise about?’ he asked, raising his head again.

‘Frog business,’ replied the frogs as one.

‘Fine, but you’re deafening everybody!’

‘We can deafen any’un we like. We’re frogs.’

‘I can see that.’

‘What d’you want?’

‘For you to keep it down. The sun is setting and I need some peace and quiet.’

‘What d’you need it for?’ 

‘There’s a conversation I need to have.’

‘Who you gon’ talk to?’ the frogs gathered curiously around.

‘You’re dying to know, aren’t you?’

‘We are!’ the frogs croaked again.

‘Just wait and you’ll see.’

As soon as the sun touched the horizon, Foxie turned eastwards and concentrated. It was completely silent but for the soft splashes of the water. Some fish jumped up, but Foxie paid them no attention – he wasn’t paying attention to anything anymore, the whole world was gone; there was only a small dot somewhere in the sea he cared about – the little dolphin’s mind.

‘Hello, Foxie,’ exclaimed the dolphin.

‘Monny!’ replied Foxie, startled. ‘You know, I can actually hear your real voice!’

‘Me too. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around it since last night. Dad says it’s—I forgot what he called it. Some scientific matter.’

‘That’s what Detective Tortoise said.’

‘Where are you calling from?’

‘How can I say it… I got itchy feet again.’

‘So you took off, eh?’

‘Something told me to leave, so I left.’

‘When are you coming around?’

‘We’ll see. We’ll still talk every day, right?’

‘I’m waiting for you.’

‘Talk to you soon, then.’

‘I can hear you really well.’

‘Me too. Just as if you were here beside me.’

‘Have a nice journey!’

‘Say hi to everyone for me!’

The cub went silent. He shook his head and saw the world again. About him stood thousands of frogs, wide-eyed and silent.

‘Well, croak, then!’ Foxie teased them. ‘Why are you quiet all of a sudden?’

‘You’re mad!’ yelled a frog.

‘Nutter!’ croaked all the frogs as one.

The frog horde stepped back in fear, screaming about the nutter by the river. Their cries went up into the sky, reaching other frog gangs along the entire length of the river. All over, it was made to be known that some nutcase had come during the night, talking to himself like a madman.

This cheered the cub up, and he smiled. Widely at first, then not as widely, until finally he stopped smiling altogether.

‘Fools!’ cried Foxie angrily. ‘You’re all fools!’

He wanted to tell them he was not a nutter and he didn’t like being accused of such outrageous things, but the frogs stood by their opinion. More crowds appeared from the moors. The uproar flew up to the sky. The usually quiet animals living around heard the noise and, without thinking, joined in: ‘He’s mad!’

Many rabbits and partridges appeared, wishing to see him with their own eyes and tell him ‘You’re a nutter!’

Foxie tried to convince them, at least, that this was not the case, and if they would just shut up – that was really all he wanted – they would hear his voice and see for themselves that he was not mad. But his hopes were in vain. Larger animals started crowding around him. Everyone wanted to see what this nutcase looked like and what he wanted with them.

This enraged the cub. No longer caring whether they listened to him or not, he started screaming, but it was to no avail — the millions of animal voices drowned his out. The voices of the millions were more convincing. At one point, even Foxie started doubting himself: ‘Wait! Who are you, really? Are you sure you’re you? What if—? No, think about it, honestly. No, because…—you’re not being honest with yourself, though.’

How he wanted to, and how much easier it would be, if he were to just join in with the rest of them: ‘He’s mad!’ 

How easy it is to yell, to become part of the crowd!

Startled by this thought, the cub took off, splashed across the river, came out at the other side, and, chased by the thousands of screaming voices – that now repeated over and over that the nutter was running away – ran, like all madmen do.

Chapter Four: The Rotter 

He didn’t notice when he had gone over the hill. He ran from the commotion. He didn’t stop for a moment, not even to listen around. Perceiving the silence, Foxie found himself at the foot of a second mountain. The stars sparkled in the sky. It was dead silent. His heart beat with indignation and exhaustion, but as soon as it settled, the cub burst into laughter. He laughed to his heart’s content, then found a nice spot to spend the night. He lay down and curled up. Before he could fall asleep, a vivid rotten little thought popped out of his head and stood beside him. It was tiny, but a rotter nonetheless.

‘So that’s what you’re doing?’ whispered the Rotter.

‘What do you mean?’ the cub wondered.

‘You’re falling asleep just like that, as if nothing’s happened.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’

‘Think about it: has it happened or not?’

‘Alright, you tell me.’

‘They told you!’

‘It depends on who’s saying it!’ replied Foxie.

‘It’s not who, it’s how many,’ whispered the Rotter in his ear. ‘There are at least a hundred thousand of them.’

‘A hundred thousand, but they’re frogs.’

‘They’re frogs, but there are a hundred thousand of them.’

‘Rotter!’ Foxie hissed.

‘Alright, I admit it,’ admitted the Rotter. ‘But you’ve got to admit something too! A hundred thousand are mistaken, it’s only me who’s right, says he. Are you sure? Well, it’s possible; they might really be mistaken, but just think about it!’

‘Think about what?’

‘About whether you’re always, always right. It’s a hundred thousand we’re talking about!’

‘Who knows if they’re a hundred thousand,’ the cub tried to argue.

‘Give or take a thousand, what’s it to you?’ the Rotter spat out. ‘Think about it. We’re all mortals.’

‘I’m immortal!’ Foxie argued. ‘I’ve been eaten by an eagle, I’ve been swallowed by a shark, and I’m still alive!’

‘See?’ The rotter smirked. ‘I told you! This is how it starts. It usually starts with this.’

‘I was joking.’ Foxie attempted to smile. ‘Can’t you recognise a joke?’

‘You should recognise it too, and think about it: a hundred thousand! Not one or two – a hundred thousand.’

‘Frogs!’

‘Who knows?’ the Rotter whispered.

‘What?’ Foxie jumped. ‘What did you say?’

‘How do you know they’re frogs?’ The rotter winked and stretched. ‘I’m tired. I’m going to sleep, and you think about what I’ve told you.’

With that, the Rotter jumped back into the cub, but before vanishing completely, he hissed: ‘A prodigy, indeed! No one else in the world could fall asleep after a conversation like this.’

Chapter five: The Orange Mountain

After a restless night, the wanderer woke up at the break of dawn. You couldn’t see much through the fog, but Foxie thought the second mountain in his way stuck out with its unusual colour. Besides, its trees looked nothing like trees. Later, in the sunlight, they were revealed to be peculiar orange cliffs. The ground he treaded on was a similar shade of orange. He walked a long way before meeting a single living creature.

‘Hello there, mouse!’ he said with sincere joy.

‘I know you are, but what am I?’ replied the mouse.

‘What are you?’

‘I’m something else. I don’t know what; no one’s ever told me I was a mouse.’

‘Fine,’ Foxie agreed. ‘So you live your whole life not knowing you’re a mouse. You must think you’re something else. What are you called? I, for one, am a fox cub.’

‘Are you? I thought you were one of us, but more well-fed.’

‘Who are you?’

‘We’re just us.’

‘Listen here, silly, frogs know they’re frogs, and humans know they’re humans. You should know who you are.’

‘What for? Do you win a prize for knowing? It’s all about the stomach. Fill it up and live large. One day, when you kick the bucket, nobody will ask who or what you were. Isn’t that right?’

‘So what’s your rush?’

‘I’m going to work.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a biter.’

‘What kind of biter are you?’

‘An assistant biter.’

‘What do you bite?’

‘We tear through stuff.’

‘What kind of stuff?’

‘I don’t know. Whatever needs to fall. We bite through its base.’

‘So you make mischief?’

‘Sure.’

‘Then you’re rotten.’

‘Mind your own business, you gossip!’

The mouse disappeared. Foxie looked about. No one had heard them. This was the first time he’d been called a gossip. Yesterday he’d been called a nutter. Well, he had been on a roll lately. Still, the cub thought, better to be called a gossip in private than a nutter by a crowd of a hundred thousand screaming creatures.

As he walked upwards, his spirits fell. The joy of his previous journeys was gone. Besides, the land about him grew more and more bare, and the cliffs took on mysterious shapes. When would he finally be over the cursed Orange Mountain?

Jasmina Koleva is an up-and-coming translator working with English and Bulgarian. After finishing her BA in English and American Studies in 2022, she began her translation career in the field of subtitling for visual media. Her ventures into the realm of literary translation reflect her lifelong passion for meaningful children’s literature. For her participation in the Elizabeth Kostova Foundation’s Academy for Literary translation, Jasmina chose to work on the third novel in Boris Aprilov’s Foxie series, Foxie’s Adventures in Squareland.

In February 2024, the Elizabeth Kostova Foundation launched an open call for English-speaking translators to join the inaugural edition of the Bulgarian to English Literary Translation Academy. The Academy was designed to connect experienced translators with emerging talents in literary translation, fostering the growth of a new generation skilled in bringing contemporary Bulgarian literature to English-speaking audiences. Over a six-month period, mentors Angela Rodel, Ekaterina Petrova, Izidora Angel, and Traci Speed guided three mentees each, working across genres including fiction, children’s literature, and poetry. By the program’s end, participants had developed substantial translated excerpts to present to publishers, authors, and partners, and to use in applying for translation grants, residencies, and other professional development opportunities. The Academy has also enabled contemporary Bulgarian authors to have significant portions of their work translated, which they can present to literary agents, international publishers, and in applications for global programs. You can find more information about the Academy participants here. The Academy is made possible through the support of the National Culture Fund under the Creation 2023 program and in partnership with Vagabond magazine.