I just received an invitation to the award ceremony for the French-American Foundation & Florence Gould Foundation Annual Translation Prizes, and since I think I missed the announcement of the finalists, I thought I’d take this chance to congratulate all ten translators being honored.
John Cullen for Brodeck by Philippe Claudel (Nan A. Talese/Doubleday)
C. Dickson for Desert by J.M.G. Le Clezio (David R. Godine Publishing)
Richard Howard for Alien Hearts by Guy de Maupassant (New York Review Books)
Charlotte Mandell for The Kindly Ones by Jonathan Littell (HarperCollins)
Richard Sieburth for The Salt Smugglers by Gerard de Nerval (Archipelago Books)
Beverley Bie Brahic for This Incredible Need to Believe by Julia Kristeva (Columbia University Press)
M.B. DeBevoise for Manichaeism by Michel Tardieu (University of Illinois Press)
Jody Gladding for On the Death and Life of Languages by Claude Hagege (Yale University Press/Odile Jacob)
George Holoch for Orphans of the Republic by Olivier Wieviorka (Harvard University Press)
Loic Wacquant for Prisons of Poverty by Loic Wacquant (University of Minnesota Press)
Great list of translators/books/publishers . . .
The prizes will be given out on Thursday, September 16th at a special event at the Gallery at the Century Association. For more information about the awards (and how to attend the ceremony/reception—which is always quite stunning) contact Sierra Schaller at sschaller [at] frenchamerican [dot] org.
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. . .
In a culture that privileges prose, reviewing poetry is fairly pointless. And I’ve long since stopped caring about what the world reads and dropped the crusade to get Americans to read more poems. Part of the fault, as I’ve suggested. . .
I would like to pose the argument that it is rare for one to ever come across a truly passive protagonist in a novel. The protagonist (perhaps) of Three Light-Years, Claudio Viberti, is just that—a shy internist who lives in. . .
The last five days of the eleventh-century Icelandic politician, writer of sagas, and famous murder victim Snorri Sturleleson (the Norwegian spelling, Snorre, is preserved in the book) make up Thorvald Steen’s most recently translated historical fiction, The Little Horse. Murdered. . .
We all know Paris, or at least we think we know it. The Eiffel Tower. The Latin Quarter. The Champs-Élysées. The touristy stuff. In Dominique Fabre’s novel, Guys Like Me, we’re shown a different side of Paris: a gray, decaying. . .
One hundred pages into Birth of a Bridge, the prize-winning novel from French writer Maylis de Kerangal, the narrator describes how starting in November, birds come to nest in the wetlands of the fictional city of Coca, California, for three. . .
At 30, the Mexican writer Valeria Luiselli is already gathering her rosebuds. Faces in the Crowd, her poised debut novel, was published by Coffee House Press, along with her Brodsky-infused essay collection, Sidewalks. The essays stand as a theoretical map. . .
Fantomas Versus the Multinational Vampires: An Attainable Utopia (narrated by Julio Cortázar) is, not disappointingly, as wild a book as its title suggests. It is a half-novella half-graphic novel story about . . . what, exactly? A European tribunal, Latin. . .
Marie NDiaye has created a tiny, psychological masterpiece with her Self-Portrait in Green. In it she explores how our private fears and insecurities can distort what we believe to be real and can cause us to sabotage our intimate relationships.. . .