IN OCTOBER 2013, the editors of this volume invited writer Ilija Trojanow to participate in a seminar on “Transnationalism” for the Thirty-Seventh Annual Conference of the German Studies Association in Denver, Colorado. Denied permission to enter the United States, however, Trojanow was prevented from boarding his plane in Brazil. He participated in the seminar via Skype, and the planned performance based on his novel EisTau (Melting Ice, 2012) for the GSA luncheon was transformed into a discussion on the subject of surveillance in a digital age. The following interview does not explicitly engage with this event, though it remains as backdrop to the conversation.

EDITORS: You are considered a transnational author and someone who is an expert and practitioner of transnationalism. From your perspective and experience, how would you describe or define “transnationalism,” as a life experience, a mode of living and with regard to literature? That is, what is “transnational literature” for you?

TROJANOW: Well, it's difficult for me to answer because until the day I received your invitation, I’ve never used that word myself, and I’ve never positioned myself within this semantic framework. So this was a bit new to me. The reason I didn't do it is that “nationality” doesn't seem to figure in my kind of biographical conditioning. Right from the beginning, when we fled Bulgaria, there was always a very diverse context, starting with the refugee camps, where you have a multitude of different refugees, growing up in Kenya where you have a multilingual setting (I grew up speaking four languages) and many people from international or multinational backgrounds. So it was more of an education in cosmopolitanism, looking back on it, than in transnationalism. The only time I actually thought of myself in regards to any kind of national identity was when my father insisted that we apply for German citizenship. It was one of the weirdest conversations I’ve ever had because in those days there was no test. You just had to fill out a form and one of the questions was “What is your hobby?” and I wrote down “literature.” The bureaucrat who was screening me looked up from his form and said, “Ah, literature! So, so.