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
There’s little to say about a series of prose poems that willfully refuse to identify pronoun antecedents. Or perhaps there are a million things. The poems in _Morse, My Deaf Friend_— the chapbook by Miloš Djurdjević published by Ugly Duckling. . .
The Crimson Thread of Abandon is the first collection of short fiction available in English by the prolific Japanese writer and all-around avant-garde trickster Terayama Shūji, who died in 1983 at the age of 47. This collection would be important. . .
Last year, NYRB Classics introduced English-language readers to Catalan writer Josep Pla with Peter Bush’s translation of The Gray Notebook. In that book, Pla wrote about life in Spain during an influenza outbreak soon after World War I, when. . .
“Your bile is stagnant, you see sorrow in everything, you are drenched in melancholy,” my friend the doctor said.
bq. “Isn’t melancholy something from previous centuries? Isn’t some vaccine against it yet, hasn’t medicine taken care of it yet?” I. . .
What to make of Vano and Niko, the English translation of Erlom Akhvlediani’s work of the same name, as well as the two other short books that comprise a sort of trilogy? Quick searches will inform the curious reader that. . .
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. . .