Doubling up on RTW book posts today . . . This is the sixth title we’re covering. Write-ups of the other titles can be found here. And information about the Reading the World program—a special collaboration between publishers and independent booksellers to promote literature in translation throughout the month of June—is available at the official RTW website.
One of the great things about Reading the World is that it’s a blend of new books by authors most Americans haven’t heard about (see earlier post on The Corpse Walker) with classic titles like Don Quixote that are some of the greatest books ever written.
This can be one of the great downsides to trying to write about all the RTW books though . . . What does one say about Don Quixote that hasn’t already been said? Is there really a need to summarize the so-called plot? I will say that the new translation by Edith Grossman is fantastic, and that if you haven’t read Don Quixote this is a perfect opportunity to lose yourself in the wonderful, weird, endlessly entertaining world of knight-errant Don Quixote and his sidekick Sancho Panza. In a way, this may well be the perfect summer-reading, beach book . . .
Or, well, you could always just watch the movie:
Not sure this was ever released here, which may be for the best. As I said when I first wrote about this, the cleavage shot at :30 is pricelessly ridiculous, and the reference to “producers who saw Shrek“ is tongue-in-cheek not funny. But “I Fought the Law” may be the supreme craptastic moment of this trailer.
This is one case where I have no qualms about saying that the book is way, way better than the movie.
The publisher’s blurb for Oleg Pavlov’s The Matiushin Case promises the prospective reader “a Crime and Punishment for today,” the sort of comparison that is almost always guaranteed to do a disservice to both the legendary dead and the ambitious. . .
One hundred years have passed since the start of World War I and it is difficult to believe that there are still novels, considered classics in their own countries, that have never been published in English. Perhaps it was the. . .
In the London of Hédi Kaddour’s Little Grey Lies, translated by Teresa Lavender Fagan, peace has settled, but the tensions, fears, and anger of the Great War remain, even if tucked away behind stories and lies. Directly ahead, as those. . .
One of the greatest services—or disservices, depending on your viewpoint—Bertrand Russell ever performed for popular philosophy was humanizing its biggest thinkers in his History. No longer were they Platonic ideals, the clean-shaven exemplars of the kind of homely truisms that. . .
The best way to review Alejandra Pizarnik’s slim collection, A Musical Hell, published by New Directions as part of their Poetry Pamphlet series, is to begin by stating that it is poetry with a capital P: serious, dense, and, some. . .
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. . .