Our 2 for $22 deal (pick 2 Open Letter books for $22 flat, and you’re automatically entered to win a year of free books) is coming to a close, so if you haven’t checked it out—or did and were planning to order later—now is the time . . .
I know it feels like like self-promotion day on Three Percent, but this bit of promotion is important . . . really (at least to those of you who’ve written in asking about it).
The other week we launched an awesomely great deal with a catchy name: 2 for $22. The deal is this:
Choose any 2 books for $22 flat (not even shipping, if you’re in the U.S.). In addition, and you’ll be automatically entered to win a free subscription to a full year of Open Letter titles (or, if you’re already a subscriber, you could get your current subscription extended for an additional free year). So, that’s a potential of 12 beautiful books for $22. Not bad.
Over the past week or so, we’ve heard from a bunch of you that the ordering page was causing them problems, so we pulled it down until we could get it all worked out . . . This brings me to today: It’s all worked out!
You can go here to check it out and maybe pick some books and enter the free subscription drawing.
By the way, this offer is only open until Nov. 15 . . .
Don’t forget that we’re still in the midst of our 2 for $22 deal.
Choose any 2 books for $22 flat, and you’re automatically entered to win a free subscription for a full year of Open Letter titles (or, if you’re already a subscriber, you could get your current subscription extended for an additional free year). That’s a potential of 12 books for $22, which has an original retail value of $$$.
In celebration of our thirteen-month anniversary, we’re offering a special on all twelve of the titles we’ve published so far: from now until November can buy any 2 Open Letter books for $22. And when you do (and hopefully you will—this is a killer bargain!), you’ll automatically be entered into a drawing to win a free one-year subscription.
(So, if you’re one of those lucky people, you could end up with 12 books for $22 . . . )
And if I might make a suggestion: I would highly recommend getting a copy of Jan Kjaerstad’s The Discoverer. The book just came out and is going to be reviewed in the October 25th issue of the New York Times Book Review. (Our first Times review!) And as a sneak preview, next week we’ll be serializing a chunk of the novel on the website . . .
A man’s country may be cramped or vast according to the size of
his heart. I’ve never found my country too small, though that isn’t
to say my heart is great. And if I could choose it’s here. . .
The recent reissuing of several of Stig Dagerman’s novels by University of Minnesota Press has rekindled interest in his works, which have until now been little-known outside Sweden. Just twenty-four when he wrote A Burnt Child (here newly translated by. . .
Paul Klee’s Boat, Anzhelina Polonskaya’s newest bilingual collection of poems available in English, is an emotional journey through the bleakest seasons of the human soul, translated with great nuance by Andrew Wachtel. A former professional ice dancer(!), Polonskaya left the. . .
In Seiobo There Below, Lázló Krasznahorkai is able to succeed at a task at which many writers fail: to dedicate an entire novel to a single message, to express an idea over and over again without falling into repetition or. . .
There are curious similarities in three Italian mystery series, written by Maurizio de Giovanni, Andrea Camilleri, and Donna Leon.1
They’re all police procedurals, and all set in Italy: Naples, Sicily, Venice.
The three protagonists are Commissarios: Luigi Ricciardi, Salvo. . .
Poetry always has the feel of mysticism and mystery, or maybe this feeling is a stereotype left over from high school literature class. It is generally the result of confusion, lack of time committed to consuming the poetry, and the. . .
Our Lady of the Flowers, Echoic is not only a translation, but a transformation. It is a translation of Jean Genet’s novel Notre Dame des Fleurs, transmuted from prose to poetry. Originally written in prison as a masturbatory aid (Sartre. . .