WOMEN IN TRANSLATION MONTH 2018 – Thank You, Meytal! #WITMonth

Women In Translation Month is upon us!¬† Meytal Radzinski (Biblibio to those who knew her back in the day ūüôā ) embodies the idea of being a “literary citizen” to her core. She is a force of nature and someone I hugely admire. In 2014 she began a conversation on her blog which¬† evolved into an international celebration of women writers in translation.¬† The fact that it has spread as far as it has in the four years since then is entirely due to her hard work and lovely personality. I do not mean to minimize the work of the publishers, translators, booksellers, bloggers and all the other people who make #WITMonth a success year after year – but I think it’s important to acknowledge who this community is built around and why she built it.¬† So, in her own words:

Approximately 30% of new translations into English are of books by women writers. Given how few books are translated into English to begin with, this means that women are a minority within a minority. The problem then filters down to how books by women writers in translation are reviewed/covered in the media, recognized by award committees, promoted in bookstores, sent out to reviews, and ultimately reach readers themselves.

While imperfect, WITMonth gives many publishers the chance to promote their existing titles written by women in translation, while also giving readers an organized means of finding the books that already exist. WITMonth ultimately serves to help readers find excellent books to read… those books just happen to be by women writing in languages other than English!

For my part Рyou will find most of my Women In Translation Month recommendations on Instagram and Twitter. Every day of the month of August I will be featuring a book written by a woman and translated into English. You can follow me on IG @taracheesman and on Twitter @booksexyreview

And don’t forget to check out all the #WITMonth hashtags on both Twitter & Instagram.

 

 

 

Welcome to Women In Translation Month 2016 – #WITMonth

WomenInTranslation Logo 2016Women In Translation Month¬†is here again. ¬†This event, in its third year, was started by the blogger Meytal Radzinski. ¬†The idea came out of a number of posts she wrote in which she¬†used The Three Percent website’s yearly translation database¬†to determine the percentage of books in translation written by women¬†which¬†are published each year. ¬†The 2014 and 2015 results were depressing¬†and this year seems to be a continuation of previous years’ trends.

In case you’ve forgotten: the goals for Women In Translation Month are simple ‚Äď

  1. Increase the dialogue and discussion about women writers in translation
  2. Read more books by women in translation
  3. And if you’re a blogger or reviewer (or both) – BE AWARE! ¬†Make sure you’re reviewing women in translation. ¬†If publishers aren’t sending you the books, then start requesting them. It’s our job to let the readers know what they’re missing.

Want to be a part of the discussion? ¬†–

I’ll be reading and posting about Women In Translation all of August. And while I probably won’t get to them all, here’s a peek¬†at my TBR list –

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Hollow Heart by Viola Di Grado, tr. Antony Shugaar

Title:  Hollow Heart

Author:  Viola Di Grado

Translator:  Antony Shugaar  / Italian

Publisher:  Europa Editions, New York (2015)

ISBN:  978 1 60945 271 1

HollowHeart

‚ÄúI’m not afraid of death because I don’t believe in it.
It’s just getting out of one car, and into another.‚ÄĚ
‚Äē John Lennon

‚ÄúThe boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?‚ÄĚ
‚Äē Edgar Allan Poe

‚ÄúWhen you look into the abyss, it‚Äôs not supposed to wave back.‚ÄĚ
‚Äē Terry Pratchett

Dorotea Giglio (1986-2011) is the unlikely heroine of the Italian¬†novel, Hollow Heart, released in English this past August by the increasingly chic publisher Europa Editions. ¬†Unlikely because she’s already dead when the book (which functions as a sort of memoir of the afterlife) starts, having employed¬†the perennial method of opening her¬†wrists in a warm bath. ¬†To female suicide what the double axel is to female figure skaters, the way she kills herself grounds by its very ubiquity what proves to be a mesmerizing and wholly original literary work about a young woman navigating¬†death. And doing so with more dexterity than she ever showed in life. Probably not¬†a coincidence. ¬†The very things which she loses – the emotional and physical connections which define our humanity – are the things which caused her so much pain while alive. ¬†Death, if nothing else, grants objectivity.

The bad news about¬†the afterlife is that it’s rather bleak. ¬†Viola Di Grado paints a black landscape where the dead exist¬†as shadows, isolated from those they¬†love, lonely, unable to experience the pleasures they¬†took for granted while alive. ¬†Of course, Dorotea’s existence (as we come to understand it) was rather bleak prior to her suicide. At least now she has some friends and perspective. She keeps a journal recording the decomposition of her body, which she visits frequently and lovingly. She continues to live with¬†her mother and aunt – observing their grief, comforting and tormenting them as the whim strikes her. ¬†She goes to an Amy Winehouse concert (after the singer’s death, of course) with another suicide named Euridice.¬†She seeks out other ghosts, leaving touchingly wistful messages for recently deceased acquaintances.

Hi, I’m Dorotea Giglio (1986-2011). We did theater together in middle school. I was the one who was three years older than you, I had dark hair and freckles, you remember? I’m the one who that time we went to Milan to see the show about Pirandello, on the bus, told you about when my cousin’s duckling almost drowned after it got tangled up in a piece of twine and the other duckling saved it by peeping really loud. You said it was a crazy story. Do you remember that? I know we didn’t talk much for the rest of the trip. And I know that we haven’t been in touch in the fourteen years since. But I heard that you died of leukemia, and since I was in your neighborhood, having died myself just last year, I though that maybe we could get together…

I got your number from a girl who died of an overdose and used to do aerobics with you. I stopped by the hospital room where you stopped living, but you weren’t there. I thought you might be in the morgue, hanging ribbons and necklaces on you frozen body, but you weren’t there either. Nor at the cemetery; that’s where I spend a lot of my time these days. Would you call me at this number? I really hope to hear from you. Ciao, kisses.

Much of Hollow Heart is about Dorotea coming to terms with the life she gave up. The prose is beautiful – moving from the lyrical to the biological – sentences defiantly bright in the face of such a dark subject. “Down there my body feels no regrets: the regrets have stayed with me, and I have to fight them off on my own. My regrets shrill, they whine, they throw tantrums, they keep me from sleeping. They disobey me. They grow. My body has enxymes instead of regrets. They emerged from the lacerated lysosomes and set about destroying their own tissues. And so every one of my cells crumbled itself from within, alone, in silence.” ¬†Life¬†and viscera¬†saturate page after page as Dorotea¬†describes the insects who eat her flesh and then, moments later, is caught up in a memory of a plane ride she took while alive:¬†“The clouds outside the airplane window looked like a motionless sea. A slab of dark waves, caught by surprise in the middle of a storm. Breakers suspended in that enchanted instant right before they crash down on the shore. You could see the entire arch of their bodies, the hook-shaped curve, soon thrust into the earth. A huge hand lifted to grab, as if full of yearning.” Di Grado’s writing is so lovely at times it makes you ache.

I’ve included more than the usual number of excerpts because the writing, as well as the originality of thought behind the character,¬†are what make Hollow Heart¬†worth reading – and, in fact, readable. ¬†Violet Di Grado appears to have done her research, acknowledging the hereditary component of suicide. ¬†She does not hesitate to make her readers uncomfortable or sad. ¬†But in Dorotea she’s given us a character whose charm is only revealed after she sheds her depression with her corporeal form. ¬†Once that happens an inquisitive, sweet, admittedly quirky¬†young woman emerges. ¬†You can’t help cheering her on, if only because she is so hopeful in a place where we’ve been told all hope should¬†be abandoned. ¬†Somehow managing to embrace¬†the afterlife as¬†she was never able to embrace the life that came before.

 

Random Updates: What I’m Reading, WIT Month Cometh, Summer Holiday Reading & Two Translation Awards Get Together

I’m currently enjoying¬†The Brotherhood of Book Hunters by Rapha√ęl Jerusalmy – a swashbuckling Alexander Dumas kind of tale translated from the French by Howard Curtis. ¬†It’s completely charming!¬† The two main characters remind me quite a bit of Fritz Leiber’s Fafhrd & the Gray Mouser. ¬†Jerusalmy has taken what’s best about sword & sorcery fiction and moved it into a historical setting – 15th century France, Jerusalum & (perhaps, I haven’t gotten that far yet) Italy. ¬†I’m not sure if he did it on purpose – this is where an introduction or translator’s note would be helpful – but the parallels are there all the same.


Have I mentioned lately how I wish more books included Introductions, Forwards, Afterwards & Translator’s Notes? Obviously not all at once – there wouldn’t be much room for an actual story – but any combination/variation of the above would be acceptable & is always appreciated.


August is Biblibio’s 2nd Annual Women In Translation Month ¬†– I’m hoping to take a more active part this year and with that in mind I’ve been putting together a tentative list of books to read & review. ¬†There was a link on Twitter this morning to the New ¬†Yorker article “The True Glamour of Clarice Lispector” (am I the only one who is constantly thrown off by the similarity between “Lispector” and¬†“Inspector”?) ¬†It was written by Benjamin Moser – well, taken from an introduction Moser wrote to a New Directions collection of her work, to be exact. ¬†Benjamin Moser also wrote a biography of Inspector Lispector (see!?).

I’m very interested in reading¬†that biography, titled¬†Why This World: A Biography of Clarice Lispector, despite the fact that I still need¬†to read anything by¬†her. A deficiency¬†I hope to correct soon. Thanks in a large part to New Directions the English translations of her work seem to be enjoying a well-deserved moment in the California sun. And from what I’ve heard about her books she seems to belong to The Club of Fierce Women Writers – members include Marie NDiaye, Naja Marie Aidt, Yoko Ogawa, Anne Garr√©ta, & Therese Bohman (to name a few). ¬†Women writers who aren’t afraid to leave it all on the page.

If you’re not already planning to take part in #WITM2015¬†follow this link to a great post listing FAQ’s & suggestions on ways to participate.¬† The only real requirement is to read¬†women writers who’ve been translated into English. ¬†And if you’d like some recommendations (or would like to leave some recommendations) feel free to use¬†the comments section below.


More August News: ¬†This year we’ve scheduled our Summer Holiday for the end of August and I’m already putting together a list of books to read poolside. ¬†A solid seven days of uninterrupted reading time – bliss! ¬†5 books seems to be a safe, and somewhat realistic, number. ¬†Current contenders are:

  • War, So Much War by Merc√® Rodoreda, tr. Maruxa Rela√Īo & Martha Tennent
  • The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair by Joel Dicker, tr. Sam Taylor
  • Decoded by Mai Jia, tr. Olivia Milburn & Christopher Payne
  • A Clarice Lispector book & biography double-header
  • Hollow Heart by Viola Di Grado, tr. Antony Shugaar

Of course this list will change at least 12 times between now and then. ¬†Not least because I don’t think the Viola De Grado book is going to last (i.e.- remain unread) until then.


By now everyone has heard that the Man Booker International Prize and the International Foreign Fiction Prize¬†have joined forces… just when the Man Booker International Prize finally had a list that was actually interesting!¬† In my unsolicited opinion¬†the whole thing seems like a step backwards for International & Translated Literature. The two prizes evaluated two entirely different things – the former celebrating an international author, the latter an individual book published within the same year. ¬†Of course, now the translator will be recognized (obviously a good thing) . ¬†And the Man Booker International Prize list is usually a huge disappointment. ¬†But wasn’t it lovely seeing the likes of Mabanckou, Aira, Van Niekerk,¬†Krasznahorkai, Cond√© & Ghosh all up for the same award in 2015?

Your thoughts?

Women Writing About Horrible Things – Two French Novellas (a #WITMonth post)

Le Necrophile (The Necrophiliac in English) by Gabrielle Wittkop, translated by Don Bapst and Beside the Sea by Véronique Olmi, translated by Adriana Hunter, are unflinching character studies Рdepicting mankind in its darkest moments and (as is the case of Le Necrophile) at its most depraved.

TITLE:  Le Necrophile
AUTHOR: Gabrielle Wittkop
TRANSLATOR:  Don Bapst
PUBLISHER: ECW Press, Ontario  (2011)
ISBN:  978 15502 2943 1

 

TITLE:  Beside the Sea
AUTHOR: Véronique Olmi
TRANSLATOR:  Adriana Hunter
PUBLISHER: Tin House, New York (2010)
ISBN:  978 1 935639 42 8

One criticism¬†I wanted to address¬†during Women In Translation Month was that women authors write exclusively about ‚Äúwomen‚Äôs issues‚ÄĚ. Or, worse, the categorizing of their work as ‚Äúchick-lit‚ÄĚ or ‚Äúrelationship‚ÄĚ novels. ¬†As somehow homogenously¬†feminine¬†and, as such, more easily lumped together¬†and dismissed from the company of books written by men. ¬†With that in mind I have deliberately chosen two books¬†that are challenging and complicated – novels not easily identified¬†as¬†or¬†typical of literature associated with¬†women. ¬†Le Necrophile (The Necrophiliac in English) by Gabrielle Wittkop, translated by Don Bapst and Beside the Sea by V√©ronique Olmi, translated by Adriana Hunter, are unflinching character studies – depicting mankind¬†in its darkest moments and (as is the case of Le Necrophile) at its most depraved.

The Necrophiliac is not a metaphor (as I initially believed when I bought it). Instead¬†it is the very literal title of a disturbing and disturbingly beautiful book about – ¬†there’s no way to put this delicately¬†– a man has¬†sex with corpses. Lucien, the protagonist and narrator, is an antiques dealer. ¬†He has no friends; no family. He is a loner; ¬†for reasons that very quickly become apparent. He¬†reads the obituaries the way normal people read the personals. Sometimes he attends the funeral. Then at night, while everyone is sleeping, Lucien drives his Chevrolet to the cemetery to dig up his date. The relationship can last for weeks at a time.

He has no set type.  Men, women, the very young and the very old all have their specific attractions. The Necrophiliac is written in the style of a personal journal and the graphic descriptions of the sexual encounters will make your skin crawl.  There is no easing readers in.  From page one Lucien is revolting, breaking multiple taboos. By having him narrate his own story Wittkop manages to humanize him Рbut barely so.  Only the beauty of the prose keeps you reading.

I went this morning for a stroll around the Ivy Cemetery, charming under the snow like an ornate centerpiece made of sugar, strangely lost in a plebeian district. Watching a widow decorate the tomb of the deceased with a little Christmas tree, I noticed suddenly how rare they’ve become, those women in full mourning in their floating veils Рthough often blond Рwho for the most part Рusually, not always Рprofessionals who practised their art behind the family monuments with an absolutely depressing absence of brilliance and sincerity.  Widows’ meat.

The passage above is one of the few in The Necrophiliac¬†that won’t cause you to flinch. And, fortunately, is still indicative of the author‚Äôs style – which is lovely and devoid of the cloying prose style inherent to most Gothic novels. In fact, if you can move past the subject matter The Necrophiliac is surprisingly engrossing. The writing is truly gorgeous. Don Bapst translation manages to capture the contemporary Gothic flavor and the voluptuous imagery which,¬†combined, creates a truly unique reading experience. ¬†The size is perfect; ninety-one pages that can easily be consumed in one sitting.

And Рfortunately Рthe book is not without some humor.  As you can imagine Lucien has a difficult time keeping cleaning ladies.

This appears to be the only book by the author, Gabrielle Wittkop, that is currently¬†available to English readers. Before her suicide in 2002, at age 82, the author had written several novels, short stories and poems. ¬†She saw herself as ‚Äúthe heir to de Sade‚Ä̬†and¬†is widely read in both France and Germany. ¬†Her popularity in those countries allows me to¬†hope that more of her work will eventually find its¬†way into the hands of English translators.

________________________

V√©ronique Olmi’s novella Beside the Sea, translated by Adriana Hunter, is another book that describes the world¬†through the eyes of a¬†troubled protagonist. ¬†The initial premise seems innocent: the narrator takes her two young sons on¬†an impromptu seaside holiday. But from the first sentence – “We took the bus, the last bus of the evening, so no one would see us.” – it is apparent¬†that all¬†is not right. What unfolds is heartbreaking. ¬†Both boys will be dead by¬†the end of the book.

Beside the Sea explores¬†difficult subject matter of¬†an entirely¬†different nature than The Necrophiliac. Matricide takes the place of perversion – and suddenly perversion seems the more palatable of the two. ¬†This is not an easy book by any definition.¬†Beside the Sea is another (mercifully) short novella ¬†– only 119¬†pages. ¬†But every one of those pages feels¬†like a punch in the chest. ¬†From the mother‚Äôs rough, uneducated¬†voice (the grammar is ever so slightly off); to the anxiety of her two small boys ; to the ineptness¬†of¬†the social workers meant to help them. ¬†There is nothing pretty about the story or the prose. ¬†Nor is there anything comforting. ¬†Olmi writes fiercely – refusing to shy away from all the horrible little details that make her story painfully believable. She has created a main protagonist who invokes readers’ frustration as much as she does their pity. The book‚Äôs two small children aren‚Äôt angelic – they behave & misbehave as little boys do. And their perfectly drawn imperfection makes you want to protect them from what is coming all the more.

Omni excels at character development, relying on her readers to pick up on all the little clues her oblivious narrator let’s drop. ¬†Social workers, concerned teachers, poverty and absent fathers are all mentioned in passing. ¬†The eldest boy, 11-year old Stan, has taken on the role of adult that she is incapable of filling. ¬†Kevin is still too young to understand what is going on and still retains some innocence. ¬†“Mom! Kevin cried when he saw I was awake, and that’s a wonderful thing! The way a little’un says hello to you in the morning, as if you were the surprise of the day, the piece of good news he’d given up on.” ¬†Both boys love their mother, but Stan has learned not to trust her. ¬†She, in turn, loves them. ¬†That is never in question. ¬†But she is psychologically¬†unable to care¬†for them properly.

We’ll go to a cafe, I said, but neither of them looked convinced by that and I added We’ll order and we’ll be served! They looked at me suspiciously like I was telling a fib, so I got up an then I couldn’t help smiling – never mind my gappy gums, I was too proud of myself, I rummaged through the blue sports bag, took out my tea tin and tipped it out onto the bed, regretting it didn’t make more noise: I spilled out all my money! All of it! Everything I’d put by to have fun someday, all my little savings scrimped from the change at the baker and sometimes at the supermarket.

The kids didn’t touch the money, they looked at it, cautiously, like they were meeting someone new. Can we have ice cream? Kevin asked to make sure, and I was convinced he was no longer missing school. Stupid! Stan said quietly, in a cafe you drink coffee! And, anyway, there’s practically only twenty-centime coins left! Really? I said. Only twenty-centime coins? And I looked a bit closer. The boys sat down next to me on the bed, peering at my treasure like some strange creature. It’s true there weren’t many ten-franc coins, but hey! It was my scrimpings, not an investment, a bit extra, okay! I didn’t want them to see my disappointment, but at the same time I resented them for showing so little enthusiasm. Stan started counting the coins with such a serious expression you’d have though he was picking up something I’d broken, sorting out some stupid accident, that’s what they teach them at school: to be distrustful…

I don’t believe Omni expects readers to sympathize with the mother, yet she manages to humanize her. ¬†That, in itself, is an achievement. ¬†It’s also the key to the success of Beside the Sea. ¬†The characters and situations are hyper-realistically drawn, as if the¬†author recognized the weight of the subject matter – the horrible, chilling, heartbreaking act that drives the plot¬†– and realized it alone would have ¬†to carry the reader through. ¬†Anything else would be disrespectful – a Lifetime movie no one wants to watch. ¬†So V√©ronique¬†Omni makes the intelligent decision of telling the story without resorting to emotional manipulation or literary devices/embellishments. Without tears. ¬†The only false note is the final sentence, which shuts the door too neatly on¬†a situation that is anything but. Otherwise¬†Beside the Sea¬†is an amazing novella, one that¬†deserves more accolades and attention than it will probably ever receive. ¬†Therein lies¬†the peril¬†of taking on societal¬†taboos in a complicated and meaningful way.*

 

*versus the exploitative