Next month, the German Book Office in New Delhi is putting on two interesting events:
The first is a Translators Meeting on Tuesday the 6th at the German Book Office featuring a discussion on literary translations:
Literary translation is an art that takes time, talent and determination to develop, but it is also a profession which places translators in the multifaceted publishing and media industry and is governed by international copyright laws. The discussion will focus on the status and working conditions of literary translators in Europe and will give examples of best practice in the relationship between translators and publishers, and of the infrastructures providing support for professional translators.
If you are a translator & want to attend, please write to info [at] gbo-newdelhi [dot] org
The second is a “Lost in Translation” session at the Kovalam Literary Festival (Taj Green Cove, Kovalam, Trivandrum) on Thursday, October 8th from 4-6pm.
Literary translation is an art that takes time, talent and determination to develop, but it is also a profession which places translators in the multifaceted publishing and media industry and is governed by international copyright laws.
The seminar focuses on the various practical aspects of translation with inputs from the German Book Office, Literature Across Frontiers and Kannan Sundaram, a publisher engaging primarily in translations.
With information status and working conditions of literary translators in Europe and examples of best practice in the relationship between translators and publishers, and of the infrastructures providing support for professional translators, the seminar will also elaborate on the condition of the same in India. Involving primarily translators, the seminar would also be beneficial for
editors/publishers/authors all of whom are an integral part of the translation process.
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. . .
I must admit upfront that I went into reading Saadat Hasan Manto’s Bombay Stories almost entirely blind. I have not read Salman Rushdie. I have read, perhaps, two short stories by Jhumpa Lahiri. I might shamefully add that I really. . .
Throughout his work The Gray Notebook, Josep Pla mentions many different authors, some of whom have inspired him to pick up a pen. One of them is Marcel Proust. Even though Pla normally prefers nonfiction, he lauds the French novelist. . .