Following up on yesterday’s post about the Helen and Kurt Wolff Symposium I thought I’d pass along the list of works (and publishers) that Denis Scheck recommended in his presentation on contemporary German literature.
Denis Scheck is one of Germany’s most respected critics, and has both a radio and a TV show about books. He’s also a translator and a literary editor. (He used to have a line of books that in some way related to the sea—which included books such as David Foster Wallace’s A Supposedly Fun Thing I’ll Never Do Again for the title essay about a cruise ship (which is one of the funniest pieces I’ve ever read)—and is now starting a line of food-related books.)
Here’s the recommendations he gave us:
I want to personally second this. Daniela was at the symposium, so I got to know her a bit, and she’s an incredible person. Her poetry was beautiful (although I don’t understand a word of German, I was still blown away by the poems she read in the original) and her publishing house is incredibly interesting. She gave a speech about Kookbooks and how it came out of an artistic movement that included a record label, various visual art projects, etc., all under the label of “Kook.” The books themselves are gorgeous—very high quality, all designed with a similar sort of abstract and eye-catching artwork—and relatively inexpensive. (Because she has almost no overhead—and no employees—she’s able to keep the prices under 20 euro, which is pretty amazing for hardcovers of this quality.) The titles are fairly experimental, and the list features a lot of younger authors who she’s trying to grow with the press. Definitely worth checking out.
Isabel Kreitz: Der 35. Mai. Als Comic. (Dressler Verlag)
Anke Feuchtenberger/Kathrin de Vries: Die Hure H wirft den Handschuh (Reprodukt Verlag)
Volker Reiche: Strizz (FAZ)
There was a bit of discussion about graphic novels (especially since this is so hot in the States these days), which is why Denis recommended the three above titles.
Hoppe was actually in the States for the PEN World Voices festival a few years back. She’s someone who comes up time and again in glowing terms, yet none of her titles have been translated into English . . . This title is a children’s book.
The book of Kuhn’s that sounds most interesting to me is one he wrote years ago that relates 29 imaginary biographies of Napoleon.
This is the author that the three women who won the Susan Sontag Translation Prize are working on. The book they’re translated (yes, it is a collaborative translation) is Koppstoff: Kanaka Sprak vom Rande der Gesellschaft, which consists of 26 fictionalized voices of Turkish women in Germany. They read a section of this at the symposium that enthralled everyone. (It helps that this came at the end of the day and was a very energetic, flowing rant filled with vular language and slang. It had an amazing rhythm, and I think all of the publishers in the room were very enthused . . . )
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. . .
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. . .
Alessandro Baricco’s Mr. Gwyn is a set of two loosely interlinked novellas that play with narrative and the construction of character. Ably translated by Ann Goldstein, Mr. Gwyn plays some subtle metafictional games as Baricco delves into what it means. . .