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.
“Rambling Jack—what’s that?”
“A novel. Novella, I guess.”
“Yeah, it looks short. What is it, a hundred pages?”
“Sorta. It’s a duel language book, so really, only about… 50 pages total.”
“And this—what. . .
Many authors are compared to Roberto Bolaño. However, very few authors have the privilege of having a Roberto Bolaño quote on the cover of their work; and at that, one which states, “Good readers will find something that can be. . .
In Josep Maria de Sagarra’s Private Life, a man harangues his friend about literature while walking through Barcelona at night:
When a novel states a fact that ties into another fact and another and another, as the chain goes on. . .
César Aira dishes up an imaginative parable on how identity shapes our sense of belonging with Dinner, his latest release in English. Aira’s narrator (who, appropriately, remains nameless) is a self-pitying, bitter man—in his late fifties, living again with. . .
Originally published in French in 2007, We’re Not Here to Disappear (On n’est pas là pour disparaître) won the Prix Wepler-Fondation La Poste and the Prix Pierre Simon Ethique et Réflexion. The work has been recently translated by Béatrice Mousli. . .
Even though the latest from Jean Echenoz is only a thin volume containing seven of what he calls “little literary objects,” it is packed with surprises. In these pieces, things happen below the surface, sometimes both literally and figuratively. As. . .
Who is this woman? This is the question that opens Xiao Bai’s French Concession, a novel of colonial-era Shanghai’s spies and revolutionaries, police and smugglers, who scoot between doorways, walk nonchalantly down avenues, smoke cigars in police bureaus, and lounge. . .
For the past 140 years, Anna Karenina has been loved by millions of readers all over the world. It’s easy to see why: the novel’s two main plots revolve around characters who are just trying to find happiness through love.. . .
Linn Ullmann’s The Cold Song, her fifth novel, is built much like the house about which its story orbits: Mailund, a stately white mansion set in the Norwegian countryside a few hours drive from Oslo. The house, nestled into the. . .
Karel Schoeman’s Afrikaans novel, This Life, translated by Else Silke, falls into a genre maybe only noticed by the type of reader who tends toward Wittgenstein-type family resemblances. The essential resemblance is an elderly narrator, usually alone—or with one other. . .