I don’t have a lot to say, analysis-wise, about this most recent update. At the moment, there are 419 titles included for 2013, compared to 452 for 2012. By year’s end, I suspect these will be almost identical, especially considering that there are books I’m aware of—such as forthcoming titles from Frisch & Co.—that I can’t add yet because the ISBN info isn’t available. (Database talk! The ISBN is the primary key, so without anything to enter into that field, I can’t create a record.) Also, the count for December publications (19 in 2013 compared to 34 in 2012) points to the fact that there are releases coming up that haven’t made their way to my desk/inbox or PW.
One thing worth noting is that Dalkey has regained the lead as the number one publisher of translations in the U.S., overtaking AmazonCrossing. How did they do this? Money from the Korean Government! Seriously. Way back when, South Korea signed a deal with Dalkey to publish approximately a shit load of Korean books. The first ten are coming out in November, and with those added in here, Dalkey moves back up into first place with 31 translations of fiction and poetry coming out in 2013.
The thing I’m always interested in are the most translated languages. At the moment, the top 10 are:
That’s an unusually large gap between French and German. For example, last year there were 67 French books and 57 German. Not sure what’s going on there . . .
Enjoy downloading and looking through these, and hopefully you’ll find some interesting books and publishers to check out!
1 As always, these spreadsheets detail all original translations to come out in English, in the U.S. (either by a U.S. press, or a foreign press with legit U.S. distribution) during the specified time period. And by original I mean books that have never ever ever appeared in any English translation ever ever ever. No retranslations of Proust, no “new editions” comprised of pieces from previously published books, etc. Sometimes I miss things thought—include things that shouldn’t be, or don’t include books that should—so email me at chad.post [at] rochester.edu if you see any errors.
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. . .