Next year, I hope to start the “Best Translations” list a lot earlier in the fall, giving us more time to research, read, recommend, and decide on which to include. One thing that would help though would be a single source of all the original translations published throughout the year. And once again, since this fits the Three Percent mission, there’s no reason why we can’t start a sort of informal catalog of translations here . . .
So, beginning in January, we’re going to start posting monthly (or bi-weekly) round-ups of forthcoming original literary translations. There’s a slew of great presses that send us catalogs, review copies, etc., and there are a number of people I’ll be able to contact to make sure we’re including as many books as possible.
That said, it’ll be hard to catch everything, so, if you work for a publisher, or know one, please feel free to pass along information about this project, and anyone interested can e-mail me at chad.post at rochester dot edu with title, author, translator, language, pub month, and price for forthcoming titles and we’ll include them in the postings.
We’ll also try and review a couple of these titles each month, and include short descriptions of a few each week as well.
This is one of the primary goals for Three Percent in 2008 (along with increasing the number of reviews of untranslated titles featured here), so I thought I’d pass this along . . .
“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. . .