So, my friend, writer, and fellow critic of this year’s Duke basketball team, Paul Maliszewski, emailed me this morning with a really intriguing story:
Here’s an odd thing I overheard yesterday. I went to the rare reading (rare for me) by John Banville, and a woman in the audience asked this question, which was more of a comment, about how in the 1960s, Ethiopian writers were greatly influenced by Samuel Beckett. Banville knew nothing about this, and the conversation moved on, but I thought I would ask you: have you heard of this? Or read any Ethiopian literature in translation? A brief turn around Google turns up nothing. Just sounded interesting to me, and sounded like something maybe Open Letter would be interested in, too, given the influence.
Yes—Open Letter would be very interested! Does anyone out there know anything about this? If so, please share.
Founded in 1960 by such creative pioneers as George Perec, Raymond Queneau and Italo Calvino, the Oulipo, shorthand for Ouvroir de littérature potentielle, came about in when a group of writers and mathematicians sought constraints to find new structures and. . .
There’s little to say about a series of prose poems that willfully refuse to identify pronoun antecedents. Or perhaps there are a million things. The poems in Morse, My Deaf Friend— the chapbook by Miloš Djurdjević published by Ugly Duckling. . .
The Crimson Thread of Abandon is the first collection of short fiction available in English by the prolific Japanese writer and all-around avant-garde trickster Terayama Shūji, who died in 1983 at the age of 47. This collection would be important. . .
Last year, NYRB Classics introduced English-language readers to Catalan writer Josep Pla with Peter Bush’s translation of The Gray Notebook. In that book, Pla wrote about life in Spain during an influenza outbreak soon after World War I, when. . .
“Your bile is stagnant, you see sorrow in everything, you are drenched in melancholy,” my friend the doctor said.
bq. “Isn’t melancholy something from previous centuries? Isn’t some vaccine against it yet, hasn’t medicine taken care of it yet?” I. . .
What to make of Vano and Niko, the English translation of Erlom Akhvlediani’s work of the same name, as well as the two other short books that comprise a sort of trilogy? Quick searches will inform the curious reader that. . .
The opening of Jón Gnarr’s novel/memoir The Indian is a playful bit of extravagant ego, telling the traditional story of creation, where the “Let there be light!” moment is also the moment of his birth on January 2nd, 1967. Then. . .