I’m still going to need a few days to process this year’s ALTA conference before I write something more substantial, but I just wanted to say that the conference went even better than expected. The panels were brilliant, David Bellos was incredible, the parties were drunken, and the conversations were stimulating. And nothing went terribly wrong!
(Well, our tattoo plans had to be delayed till this week due to unfortunate timing, but that’s not too tragic . . . We’re still getting the hyphellipses tattoos and will post pics when it happens.)
Anyway, over the next month or so, we’ll be posting videos from the conference. We taped a TON of events and panels for those who couldn’t make it, or are just curious about what goes on at ALTA. It’s going to take a little while to make this happen though, but we will get them up eventually.
In the meantime, if you attended, would you please fill out this survey about the conference? I’m very curious as to what people thought, and I’m sure the Dallas office and next year’s organizers would appreciate some feedback as well.
Over at Literary License, Gwen Dawson has started an interesting survey to look at the influence of lit blogs on book purchasing. She’s going to post the results on February 13th, so you have plenty of time to a) take the survey and b) spread the word.
I’m really interested in seeing how this turns out . . .
The prolific Spanish author Benito Pérez Galdós wrote his short novel, Tristana, during the closing years of the nineteenth century, a time when very few options were available to women of limited financial means who did not want a husband.. . .
Pedro Zarraluki’s The History of Silence (trans. Nick Caistor and Lorenza García) begins with the narrator and his wife, Irene, setting out to write a book about silence, itself called The History of Silence: “This is the story of how. . .
There are plenty of reasons you can fail to find the rhythm of a book. Sometimes it’s a matter of discarding initial assumptions or impressions, sometimes of resetting oneself. Zigmunds Skujiņš’s Flesh-Coloured Dominoes was a defining experience in the necessity. . .
In a culture that privileges prose, reviewing poetry is fairly pointless. And I’ve long since stopped caring about what the world reads and dropped the crusade to get Americans to read more poems. Part of the fault, as I’ve suggested. . .
I would like to pose the argument that it is rare for one to ever come across a truly passive protagonist in a novel. The protagonist (perhaps) of Three Light-Years, Claudio Viberti, is just that—a shy internist who lives in. . .
The last five days of the eleventh-century Icelandic politician, writer of sagas, and famous murder victim Snorri Sturleleson (the Norwegian spelling, Snorre, is preserved in the book) make up Thorvald Steen’s most recently translated historical fiction, The Little Horse. Murdered. . .
We all know Paris, or at least we think we know it. The Eiffel Tower. The Latin Quarter. The Champs-Élysées. The touristy stuff. In Dominique Fabre’s novel, Guys Like Me, we’re shown a different side of Paris: a gray, decaying. . .