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fiction and nonfiction, children’s books, and poems published between January 1, 2011, and November 1, 2013, along with unpublished fiction and non fiction.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.
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. . .
In Joris-Karl Hyusmans’s most popular novel, À rebours (Against Nature or Against the Grain, depending on the which translated edition you’re reading), there is a famous scene where the protagonist, the decadent Jean des Esseintes, starts setting gemstones on the. . .
There are books that can only wisely be recommended to specific types of readers, where it is easy to know who the respective book won’t appeal to, and Kristiina Ehin’s Walker on Water is one these. What makes this neither. . .
Imagine the most baroque excesses of Goethe, Shakespeare, and Poe, blended together and poured into a single book: That is The Nightwatches of Bonaventura. Ophelia and Hamlet fall in love in a madhouse, suicidal young men deliver mournful and heartfelt. . .