The first round of the inaugural World Cup of Literature is complete! Over the past two weeks, we’ve seen sixteen books eliminated from the competition for a variety of reasons. (Click here to read all of the pieces from the first round.)
The second round starts—and finishes—next week, so for those of you following along at home, here’s an updated bracket:
And you can download a PDF version here.
Looking ahead to next week, here are the match-ups (and judges) for Round Two:
Brazil vs. Chile 6/30 – Jeff Waxman
Japan vs. Italy 6/30 – Rhea Lyons
Honduras vs. Bosnia & Herzegovina 7/1 – Stephen Sparks
Germany vs. Algeria 7/1 – Florian Duijsens
Mexico vs. Australia 7/2 – Chad W. Post
Ivory Coast vs. Uruguay 7/2 – Elianna Kan
France vs. Argentina 7/3 – Tom Roberge
USA vs. Belgium 7/3 – Lori Feathers
And once again, here’s the updated bracket:
Which matches are you most excited about? Bunch of intriguing match-ups this round: Houellebecq vs. Aira is definitely one, but so is Buarque against Bolaño. Ferrante—who has become a Twitter favorite to win it all—is taking on 1Q84. Will upstart Australian entry Barley Patch continue its winning streak? Or will Mexican Valeria Luiselli put a stop to that? No one knows. (Actually, I do, since I’m judging that match.)
Come back on Monday for four days of second round action!
There’s little to say about a series of prose poems that willfully refuse to identify pronoun antecedents. Or perhaps there are a million things. The poems in _Morse, My Deaf Friend_— the chapbook by Miloš Djurdjević published by Ugly Duckling. . .
The Crimson Thread of Abandon is the first collection of short fiction available in English by the prolific Japanese writer and all-around avant-garde trickster Terayama Shūji, who died in 1983 at the age of 47. This collection would be important. . .
Last year, NYRB Classics introduced English-language readers to Catalan writer Josep Pla with Peter Bush’s translation of The Gray Notebook. In that book, Pla wrote about life in Spain during an influenza outbreak soon after World War I, when. . .
“Your bile is stagnant, you see sorrow in everything, you are drenched in melancholy,” my friend the doctor said.
bq. “Isn’t melancholy something from previous centuries? Isn’t some vaccine against it yet, hasn’t medicine taken care of it yet?” I. . .
What to make of Vano and Niko, the English translation of Erlom Akhvlediani’s work of the same name, as well as the two other short books that comprise a sort of trilogy? Quick searches will inform the curious reader that. . .
The opening of Jón Gnarr’s novel/memoir The Indian is a playful bit of extravagant ego, telling the traditional story of creation, where the “Let there be light!” moment is also the moment of his birth on January 2nd, 1967. Then. . .
Mahasweta Devi is not only one of the most prolific Bengali authors, but she’s also an important activist. In fact, for Devi, the two seem to go together. As you can probably tell from the titles, she writes about women. . .
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. . .