The Second Annual Festival of New French Writing kicks off this Thursday in NYC and will take place through Saturday afternoon. I’m actually moderating the first event and planning on attending most (if not all) of these, so I should be able to write this up in full all next week.
In the meantime, here’s the schedule with links to the bios of all the participants:
Thursday, February 24
Friday, February 25
4:00pm – Graphic Novelists David B. (Epileptic) + Ben Katchor (Julius Knipl, Real Estate Photographer, The Jew of New York and Shoehorn Technique), moderated by New Yorker Art Director Françoise Mouly
7:30pm – French/Afghan writer and filmmaker and Prix Goncourt winner, Atiq Rahimi (The Patience Stone) + Russell Banks (The Sweet Hereafter, _Cloudsplitter), moderated by journalist Lila Azam Zanganeh
Saturday, February 26
4:00pm – Writer and film director, Philipe Claudel (I’ve Loved You So Long, Brodeck, By a Slow River) + A.M. Homes (The Mistress’s Daughter, This Book Will Save Your Life), moderated by Harper’s Magazine Publisher John R. (Rick) MacArthur
Free and open to the public, The Festival of New French Writing will take place at:
Ground Floor, Silver Center
100 Washington Square East (Entrance on Waverly Place)
Simultaneous interpretation from both languages will be available. Booksignings will follow each event and the authors’ books in English and French will be available for sale by Fieldstone Book Company.
Speaking of the first Festival of New French Writing, Tom Bishop, NYU’s Director of French Civilization and Culture, said that the French-American conversations brought out the singular qualities of each author and the national similarities and differences. In looking forward to the second edition in 2011, Bishop emphasized that “the 2011 Festival will showcase some of the best of this generation of French authors who are producing exciting, powerful, often humorous writing. They represent world literature at its best. In conversation with American counterparts with whom they share original takes on life in the 21st century, they will discuss their own works as well as the future of literature itself.”
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. . .
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. . .