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.
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. . .