Over at The Guardian the most recent entry to their “Top 10 Book Lists” (which is exactly what it sounds like—top 10 lists selected by famous authors, critics, musicians, etc.) is Catherine Sampson’s list of top 10 books on Beijing. As she mentions, many of these books are “rich in satire, and in metaphors for political oppression. Most of them are written by Chinese writers who have chosen to live abroad in order to write freely about their country.”
There are a number of recent titles on the list that have gotten a lot of play recently, including Beijing Coma, Serve the People! and I Love Dollars, but the whole list looks pretty interesting, and the brief description she provides for each book is really useful.
Here’s the complete list:
1. Beijing Coma by Ma Jian
2. Please Don’t Call Me Human by Wang Shuo
3. A Thousand Years of Good Prayers by Yiyun Li
4. The Uninvited by Yan Geling
5. The Crazed by Ha Jin
6. The Last Empress by Anchee Min
7. Serve the People! by Yan Lianke
8. I Love Dollars by Zhu Wen
9. The Dragon’s Tail by Adam Williams
10. Beijing Doll by Chun Sue
“Rambling Jack—what’s that?”
“A novel. Novella, I guess.”
“Yeah, it looks short. What is it, a hundred pages?”
“Sorta. It’s a duel language book, so really, only about… 50 pages total.”
“And this—what. . .
Many authors are compared to Roberto Bolaño. However, very few authors have the privilege of having a Roberto Bolaño quote on the cover of their work; and at that, one which states, “Good readers will find something that can be. . .
In Josep Maria de Sagarra’s Private Life, a man harangues his friend about literature while walking through Barcelona at night:
When a novel states a fact that ties into another fact and another and another, as the chain goes on. . .
César Aira dishes up an imaginative parable on how identity shapes our sense of belonging with Dinner, his latest release in English. Aira’s narrator (who, appropriately, remains nameless) is a self-pitying, bitter man—in his late fifties, living again with. . .
Originally published in French in 2007, We’re Not Here to Disappear (On n’est pas là pour disparaître) won the Prix Wepler-Fondation La Poste and the Prix Pierre Simon Ethique et Réflexion. The work has been recently translated by Béatrice Mousli. . .
Even though the latest from Jean Echenoz is only a thin volume containing seven of what he calls “little literary objects,” it is packed with surprises. In these pieces, things happen below the surface, sometimes both literally and figuratively. As. . .
Who is this woman? This is the question that opens Xiao Bai’s French Concession, a novel of colonial-era Shanghai’s spies and revolutionaries, police and smugglers, who scoot between doorways, walk nonchalantly down avenues, smoke cigars in police bureaus, and lounge. . .