As the year comes to a close, we thought we’d take a minute to look back at what we’ve done over the past twelve months. It’s also that time of year when we thank you for your continued support, and ask for your help in the year to come by participating in our Annual Campaign.
You probably already know that Three Percent and Open Letter are nonprofits housed at the University of Rochester, and, as such, our annual revenue comes from a few diverse sources, including book sales, foundational support, and governmental support (from here and abroad). Our most important source of funding, however, comes from individuals, like you, interested in furthering the appreciation of international literature.
Thanks to the support of our readers and fans, we’ve accomplished more over the past year than ever before:
• We published 10 critically-acclaimed titles from around the world, including two that made Kirkus’s Best Fiction of 2012 list;
• We were awarded our first NEA Publishing Art Works grant for an amazing $45,000, one of the largest prizes awarded to any literary organization in the U.S.;
• The Reading the World Conversation Series entered its fifth season;
• Awarded the fifth annual Best Translated Book Awards;
• Continued to expand Three Percent, celebrating literature in translation;
• Offered internships and fellowships to students from around the world interested in getting into the publishing field.
So, with our achievements higher and our momentum stronger than ever before, your continued interest has never been more vital, or more appreciated. Our goal is to foster a healthy book culture—something that wouldn’t be possible without you.
To that end, please consider supporting Three Percent and Open Letter. Your tax-deductible contribution to our Annual Campaign — online or via mail with this donation form — will ensure that this important undertaking continues to flourish, expand, and engage with more readers than ever before.
Chad W. Post
Art & Operations
The opening of Jón Gnarr’s novel/memoir The Indian is a playful bit of extravagant ego, telling the traditional story of creation, where the “Let there be light!” moment is also the moment of his birth on January 2nd, 1967. Then. . .
Mahasweta Devi is not only one of the most prolific Bengali authors, but she’s also an important activist. In fact, for Devi, the two seem to go together. As you can probably tell from the titles, she writes about women. . .
The prolific Spanish author Benito Pérez Galdós wrote his short novel, Tristana, during the closing years of the nineteenth century, a time when very few options were available to women of limited financial means who did not want a husband.. . .
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. . .