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 . . .
Upon completing Albertine Sarrazin’s Astragal I was left to wonder why it ever fell from print. Aside from the location, Astragal could pass as the great American novel. Its edginess and rawness capture the angst and desires we all had. . .
When my eyes first crossed the back cover of Fabio Genovesi’s novel Live Bait, I was caught by a blurb nestled between accolades, a few words from a reviewer for La Repubblica stating that the novel was, however magically, “[b]eyond. . .
“I preferred the war to the plague,” writes Curzio Malaparte in his 1949 novel, The Skin. He speaks of World War II and the destruction it has wrought on Italy, the city of Naples in particular. But the plague he. . .
With the steady rise of feminist scholarship and criticism in recent decades, it is little wonder that the work of Louise Labé should be attracting, as Richard Sieburth tells us in the Afterword to his translation, a “wide and thriving”. . .
In Conversations, we find ourselves again in the protagonist’s conscious and subconscious, which is mostly likely that of Mr. César Aira and consistent with prototypical Aira style. This style never fails because each time Aira is able to develop a. . .
You are not ashamed of what you do, but of what they see you do. Without realizing it, life can be an accumulation of secrets that permeates every last minute of our routine . . .
The narrative history of. . .
Literature in translation often comes with a certain pedigree. In this little corner of the world, with so few books making it into this comforting nook, it is often those of the highest quality that cross through, and attention is. . .