One of my favorite editors and agents, Irene Vilar, is helping launch the Americas Latino Festival November 15-19 in Denver, Colorado, and which may be of interest to a lot of Three Percent readers.
According to their website:
With the help of a steadily growing international, national, and local network of alliances and cooperation, the Americas Latino Festival is a community building, educational initiative that is bound to become The Latino Summit for Environmental and Social Justice. The festival unites diverse communities through dialogue on the environment, health, education, culture, and small business entrepreneurship.
The Americas Latino Festival’s mission is to foster a platform of dialogue and mobilization for a just society that ensures that everyone has access to a stable market, an able-bodied workforce & a healthy environment.
I’m going to attend and participate in a discussion about “Translation, Publishing, and Social Justice, so hopefully I’ll see some of you there.
As part of the festival, the Americas for Conservation & the Arts is also launching new book awards for full-length books of fiction and nonfiction, children’s books, and poems published between January 1, 2011, and November 1, 2013, along with unpublished fiction and non fiction.
All the information can be found here, but the main criteria are that the author must be alive and that the submission:
Expresses the themes of the America Latino Festival: environmental justice, reconciliation of peoples and places, migrations, adaptation, integration and inter-generational and cross-cultural dialogue. Especially, works that broaden our vision of how people and their activities, regardless of race or ethnicity, impact the environment or highlight our interdependence on the natural world. Additionally, works that deepen our connection to the natural world or bring new call to action ideas.
Winners will each receive a prize of $2,500.
One hundred years have passed since the start of World War I and it is difficult to believe that there are still novels, considered classics in their own countries, that have never been published in English. Perhaps it was the. . .
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. . .