If you’re in New York—for BEA, or simply because you live there—you should definitely come out to tonight’s party in honor of Alejandro Zambra, author of Bonsai (Melville House, finalist for 2009 Best Translated Book Award) and The Private Lives of Trees (Open Letter).
The event is at Melville House’s office in DUMBO (145 Plymouth St, at Pearl St) and starts at 7pm.
I’m off to New York to make the rounds the next two days, and to log in a couple hours of tough “work” at Friday night’s 2666 launch party that’s taking place at Plan B (10th and B) from 8 to 10. I hear there will be some finished copies on sale, and a lot of people involved with the book (like editor Lorin Stein) will be in attendance. And a lot of die-hard Bolano fans . . .
If you’re in the area and/or desperate to see a finished copy, feel free to swing by.
As presaged by its title, contradiction is the theme of Peter Stamm’s novel, All Days Are Night. Gillian, a well-known television personality, remains unknowable to herself. And Hubert, a frustrated artist and Gillian’s lover, creates art through the process of. . .
It’s a rare and wonderful book that begins and ends with violence and humor. At the start of Etgar Keret’s The Seven Good Years, Keret is in a hospital waiting for the birth of his first child while nurses, in. . .
Last year, Han Kang’s The Vegetarian was an unexpected critical hit. Now, it’s just been published in the U.S. and has already received a great deal of positive critical attention. The Vegetarian was a bold book to attempt as an. . .
It’s been almost a year since the publication of Nowhere to Be Found by Bae Suah, but despite being included on the 2015 PEN Translation award longlist, and some pretty vocal support from key indie presses, the book has. . .
Jorge Eduardo Benavides’ novel La paz de los vencidos (The Peace of the Defeated) takes the form of a diary written by a nameless Peruvian thirty-something intellectual slumming it in Santa Cruz de Tenerife in Spain’s Canary Islands. Recently relocated. . .
Anyone with any interest at all in contemporary Moroccan writing must start with Souffles. A cultural and political journal, Souffles (the French word for “breaths”) was founded in 1966 by Abdellatif Laâbi and Mostafa Nissabouri. Run by a group of. . .
Randall Jarrell once argued a point that I will now paraphrase and, in doing so, over-simplify: As a culture, we need book criticism, not book reviews. I sort of agree, but let’s not get into all of that. Having finished. . .