I can’t find a listing at the National Poetry Series website, but Lawrence Venuti has been awarded the 2008 Robert Fagles Translation Prize for his translation of Edward Hopper by Ernest Farres.
The prize—which was awarded for the first time last year—is given each year to a translation who has “shown exceptional skill in translating a book of contemporary poetry into English.”
Venuti is an incredible force in the world of translation and translation studies. He translated from Italian, French, and Catalan and is also the author of The Translator’s Invisibility: A History of Translation. He’s been awarded a number of grants and fellowships, including ones from the NEA, NEH, and PEN, and in 2007 he received a Guggenheim Fellowship. He currently teaches at Temple University.
I’ve read some of the poems from Edward Hopper in Two Lines, Calque, and Words Without Borders and it promises to be an interesting collection. (It’s coming out next year from Graywolf Press.) Basically, each poem is named after and based on an Edward Hopper painting. Based on that, it’s sort of surprising that Edward Hopper has been “adapted to the stage in both Catalan and Spanish.” In addition to writing poetry, Farres is also an editor for the cultural supplement of La Vanguardia.
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. . .
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. . .