Available in the U.S. and in the U.K. from Biblioasis<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nLike a Proust-obsessed Cormac McCarthy,\u00a0Samuel Archibald\u2019s portrait of his hometown\u00a0is filled with innocent children and wild\u00a0beasts, attempted murder and ritual mutilation,\u00a0haunted houses and road trips to nowhere, bad\u00a0men and mysterious women. Gothic, fantastical,\u00a0and incandescent, filled with stories of\u00a0everyday wonder and terror, longing and love,\u00a0Arvida<\/em> explores the line which separates memory\u00a0from story, and heralds the arrival of an\u00a0important new voice.<\/p>\n\nDetermining the exact dramaturgy of Arvida<\/em>\u2019s narrative universe can be challenging, and certain character types and situations recur like musical leitmotifs (including sexually victimized women, whose experiences are rendered vividly without crossing the line into exploitation). What\u2019s fascinating is the sense of people haunted by a place instead of the other way around. By beginning and ending the book with references to Proust, Archibald risks over-determining his artistic motives, but he writes so eloquently about the double-edged nature of memory\u00a0— of remembering as a gift and a curse\u00a0— that he earns his allusions. ~Adam Nayman in Quill and Quire<\/em><\/li>\nTo say that Arvida<\/em> skewers our expectations of a \u201clinked\u201d short story collection would, of course, be a gross understatement. So pungent are the stylistic shifts and contrasts in this book, that the less-generous reader may feel a bit baffled by them. But the reason this book has been such a success \u2013 25,000 copies and counting sold in its original French; its nod from the Giller for the English translation \u2013 is because it breaks new ground in that very genre. ~Mark Sampson in Numero Cinq Magazine<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\nThe Story of the Lost Child<\/span><\/em><\/strong>by\u00a0Elena Ferrante<\/span>translated from the\u00a0Italian by\u00a0Ann Goldstein<\/span>ItalyAvailable in the U.S. and in the\u00a0U.K. from Europa Editions.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nHere is the dazzling saga of two women, the brilliant, bookish Elena and the fiery uncontainable Lila. In this book, both are adults; life\u2019s great discoveries have been made, its vagaries and losses have been suffered. Through it all, the women\u2019s friendship, examined in its every detail over the course of four books, remains the gravitational center of their lives. Both women once fought to escape the neighborhood in which they grew up — a prison of conformity, violence, and inviolable taboos. Elena married, moved to Florence, started a family, and published several well-received books. But now, she has returned to Naples to be with the man she has always loved. Lila, on the other hand, never succeeded in freeing herself from Naples. She has become a successful entrepreneur, but her success draws her into closer proximity with the nepotism, chauvinism, and criminal violence that infect her neighborhood. Yet somehow this proximity to a world she has always rejected only brings her role as unacknowledged leader of that world into relief. For Lila is unstoppable, unmanageable, unforgettable!<\/p>\n
Against the backdrop of a Naples that is as seductive as it is perilous and a world undergoing epochal change, this story of a lifelong friendship is told with unmatched honesty. Lila and Elena clash, drift apart, reconcile, and clash again, in the process revealing new facets of their friendship.<\/p>\n
\nThe notion of tracing the stories of two women over the long arc of their lives is hardly new \u2014 Arnold Bennett and Richard Yates both drew powerful portraits of two very different sisters in their novels \u201cThe Old Wives\u2019 Tale\u201d (1908) and \u201cThe Easter Parade\u201d (1976) \u2014 but Ms. Ferrante\u2019s Neapolitan quartet is utterly distinctive, immersing us not just in a time and place, but deep within the psychological consciousness of its narrator, Elena (who, not coincidentally, shares the first part of her creator\u2019s pen name). ~Michiko Kakutani in The New York Times<\/em><\/li>\nFerrante\u2019s writing seems to say something that hasn\u2019t been said before \u2013 it isn\u2019t easy to specify what this is \u2013 in a way so compelling its readers forget where they are, abandon friends and disdain sleep. It would be enough to have books in which we recognise the truth of women\u2019s lives in all its darkness, but the Neapolitan quartet also has an almost deranging narrative pleasure, delivered in a style that\u2019s more of an admission that the author cares too much about the truth to bother with style. ~Joanna Biggs in The London Review of Books<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\nThe Physics of Sorrow<\/span><\/em><\/strong>by\u00a0Georgi Gospodinov<\/span>translated from the\u00a0Bulgarian by\u00a0Angela Rodel<\/span>BulgariaAvailable in the U.S. and in the U.K. from Open Letter<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nUsing the myth of the Minotaur as its organizing image, the narrator of Gospodinov’s long-awaited novel constructs a labyrinth of stories about his family, jumping from era to era and viewpoint to viewpoint, exploring the mindset and trappings of Eastern Europeans. Incredibly moving\u2014such as with the story of his grandfather accidentally being left behind at a mill\u2014and extraordinarily funny\u2014see the section on the awfulness of the question “how are you?”\u2014Physics<\/i> is a book that you can inhabit, tracing connections, following the narrator down various “side passages,” getting pleasantly lost in the various stories and empathizing with the sorrowful, misunderstood Minotaur at the center of it all.<\/p>\n\nDespite this playfulness and deliberate \u201cobvious discrepancies,\u201d the book is surprisingly coherent, both in narrative and theme, though that\u2019s not to suggest it isn\u2019t rich. After all, along with the consistent playfulness in structure, theme, and tone, loneliness exists. The book is highly personal, so how could it not?\u00a0Children are placed in basements or abandoned. There\u2019s the confusion of life. ~Trevor Berrett in The Mookse and the Gripes<\/em><\/li>\nReaders who tire of the endless parade of triteness of contemporary life and contemporary creative work will no doubt find solace in Gospodinov\u2019s work, and that is a commendable feat on the author\u2019s part. Gospodinov tells us the truth, and that is a rare and wonderful thing indeed. ~Jordan Anderson in The Quarterly Conversation<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\nSigns Preceding the End of the World<\/span><\/em><\/strong>by\u00a0Yuri Herrera<\/span>translated from the\u00a0Spanish by\u00a0Lisa Dillman<\/span>MexicoAvailable in the U.S. and in\u00a0the U.K. from And Other Stories<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nSigns Preceding the End of the World<\/em> is one of the most arresting novels to be published in Spanish in the last ten years. Yuri Herrera does not simply write about the border between Mexico and the United States and those who cross it. He explores the crossings and translations people make in their minds and language as they move from one country to another, especially when there\u2019s no going back.<\/p>\nTraversing this lonely territory is Makina, a young woman who knows only too well how to survive in a violent, macho world. Leaving behind her life in Mexico to search for her brother, she is smuggled into the USA carrying a pair of secret messages \u2013 one from her mother and one from the Mexican underworld.<\/p>\n
\nSigns <\/em>is a novel of language, meant to be translated because it is so aware of the journeys language takes, from one to another, and within their boundaries. ~P.T. Smith in Bookslut<\/em><\/li>\nPacked into a tidy hundred and seven pages, some will view Signs Preceding the End of the World<\/em> as a forthright comment on the imagination of national boundaries, the shared fate of all to be experienced at the end of the world, or the eternal separation between \u201cus\u201d and \u201cthem.\u201d But all will be sure to regard this novel as an enduring document of world literature. ~Ethan Perets in Asymptote<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\nMoods<\/span><\/em><\/strong>by\u00a0Yoel Hoffmann<\/span>translated from the\u00a0Hebrew by\u00a0Peter Cole<\/span>Israel\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\nAvailable in the U.S. and in the U.K. from New Directions<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nPart novel and part memoir, Yoel Hoffmann\u2019s Moods is flooded with feelings, evoked by his family, losses, loves, the soul\u2019s hidden powers, old phone books, and life in the Galilee — with its every scent, breeze, notable dog, and odd neighbor.\u00a0Carrying these shards is a general tenderness, accentuated by a new dimension brought along by \u201cthat great big pill of Prozac.\u201d Beautifully translated by Peter Cole, Moods<\/em> is fiction for lovers of poetry and poetry for lovers of fiction — a small marvel of a book, and with its pockets of joy, a curiously cheerful book by an author who once compared himself to \u201ca praying mantis inclined to melancholy.\u201d<\/p>\n\nDespite what seem like so many tangents, and the short chapters with their often stray bits and pieces, Moods<\/i> is far from a halting narrative and it easily pulls readers in. The structure appears loose, almost preciously delicate, in contrast to the concrete blocks of so much essay-argument, but the ultimate impression is one of considerable resonant substance. ~M.A. Orthofer in The Complete Review<\/em><\/li>\nReading Moods<\/em> is not unlike the experience of reading the fictions of Jorge Luis Borges, as it compels an immediate reassessment upon conclusion, and rewards an immediate rereading. The work that particularly comes to mind is \u201cBorges and I,\u201d which contains a sentence that could have been written by Hoffmann, \u201cSo my life is a point-counterpoint, a kind of fugue, and a falling away\u00a0— and everything winds up being lost to me, and everything falls into oblivion, or into the hands of the other man,\u201d and it shares the contemplative, almost despairing mood over creation that seems to recur most frequently in Moods<\/em>, hits the same minor key of a book that Hoffmann describes as \u201cmostly blues.\u201d And if the reader passes through the book\u2019s short passages a second time, noting the finer patterning that contributed to the book\u2019s ultimate success, and is left recalling this passage, \u201cWe realize that these words don\u2019t amount to what\u2019s usually called belles letters. If there were a bank where one could exchange literary currency for the currency of life we\u2019d go there and ask for the latter, even if it cost us greatly,\u201d which is unambiguous about the relative importance of writing novels, even good novels, in the face of death, they need only need to read the first line and remember that the beginning is everything: Hoffmann has undoubtedly begun again.~Sho Spaeth in Full Stop<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\nThe Complete Stories<\/span><\/em><\/strong>by\u00a0Clarice\u00a0Lispector<\/span>translated from the\u00a0Portuguese by\u00a0Katrina Dodson<\/span>Brazil\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t
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\n\t\t\t\tAvailable in the U.S. from New Directions\n\t\t\t\t<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t
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\n\t\t\t\tAvailalbe in the U.K. from Penguin Modern Classics\n\t\t\t\t<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\nThe recent publication by New Directions of five Lispector novels revealed to legions of new readers her darkness and dazzle. Now, for the first time in English, are all the stories that made her a Brazilian legend: from teenagers coming into awareness of their sexual and artistic powers to humdrum housewives whose lives are shattered by unexpected epiphanies to old people who don\u2019t know what to do with themselves. Clarice\u2019s stories take us through their lives — and ours.<\/p>\n
From one of the greatest modern writers, these stories, gathered from the nine collections published during her lifetime, follow an unbroken time line of success as a writer, from her adolescence to her death bed.<\/p>\n
\nOn the very first page of the Brazilian writer Clarice Lispector\u2019s \u201cThe Complete Stories,\u201d she signals that hers was never an ordinary sensibility, but one capable of perceiving anxiety and menace in even the most routine phenomena. ~Larry Rohter in The New York Times<\/em><\/li>\nWhile some stories appear whimsical and read like exercises, and others muse at length and almost absent-mindedly, almost abstractly, on habit and motive, or something that happened, others have an exquisite sharpness, the fruit of a most original and daring mind. In the best stories, something deeply strange is fully visualized by Lispector, as though it had come in a waking dream and it needed to be given urgent substance.\u00a0~Colm T\u00f3ib\u00edn in The New York Review of Books<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\nThe Story of My Teeth<\/span><\/em><\/strong>by\u00a0Valeria Luiselli<\/span>translated from the\u00a0Spanish by\u00a0Christina MacSweeney<\/span>Mexico\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t
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\n\t\t\t\tAvailable in the U.S. from Coffee House Press\n\t\t\t\t<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\t
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\n\t\t\t\tAvailable in the U.K. from Granta Books\n\t\t\t\t<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n\t\t<\/div>\n\nHighway is a late-in-life world traveler, yarn spinner, collector, and legendary auctioneer. His most precious possessions are the teeth of the “notorious infamous” like Plato, Petrarch, and Virginia Woolf. Written in collaboration with the workers at a Jumex juice factory, Teeth <\/i>is an elegant, witty, exhilarating romp through the industrial suburbs of Mexico City and Luiselli’s own literary influences.<\/p>\n\nValeria Luiselli is as much a cartographer as a writer, interested in finding areas still unmapped. As in her first novel, \u201cFaces in the Crowd,\u201d she combines fictional narrative with historical and intellectual points of reference, and the result is writing without preconceptions, as airy and open as a soccer field. Prefigured by her excellent book of essays, \u201cSidewalks,\u201d \u201cThe Story of My Teeth\u201d is playful, attentive and very smart without being for a minute pretentious. ~Jim Krusoe in The New York Times Book Review<\/em><\/li>\nTranslated into a colloquial, idiosyncratic, and thoroughly enjoyable English by Christina MacSweeney (who also created a timeline at the end of the novel, which, according to Luiselli, \u201cboth destabilizes the obsolete dictum of the translator\u2019s invisibility and suggests a new way of engaging with translation\u201d), The Story of My Teeth<\/em> ends up containing the truths and delusions of a fabulist, elements of the picaresque, unresolved preoccupations, wonderful asides, and a whole house of mirrors constructed with so much mirth and skill that it seems to avoid the glumly highbrow label of \u201cpostmodernism.\u201d Instead, Luiselli\u2019s work echoes Mann\u2019s appraisal of Don Quixote<\/em>: falling into that category of writers who, with style and ease, engage the reader on an intellectual level yet are compulsively readable, without all that self-seriousness or reckless headiness. ~Tynan Kogane in Words without Borders<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\nWar, So Much War<\/span><\/em><\/strong>by\u00a0Merc\u00e8 Rodoreda<\/span>translated from the\u00a0Catalan by\u00a0Maruxa Rela\u00f1o<\/span>Spain\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\nAvailable in the U.S. and in the U.K. from Open Letter<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nDespite its title, there is little of war and much of the fantastic in this coming-of-age story, which was the last novel Merc\u00e8 Rodoreda published during her lifetime.<\/p>\n
We first meet its young protagonist, Adri\u00e0 Guinart, as he is leaving Barcelona out of boredom and a thirst for freedom, embarking on a long journey through the backwaters of a rural land that one can only suppose is Catalonia, accompanied by the interminable, distant rumblings of an indefinable war. In vignette-like chapters and with a narrative style imbued with the fantastic, Guinart meets with numerous adventures and peculiar characters who offer him a composite, if surrealistic, view of an impoverished, war-ravaged society and shape his perception of his place in the world.<\/p>\n
As in Rodoreda’s Death in Spring<\/i>, nature and death play an fundamental role in a narrative that often takes on a phantasmagoric quality and seems to be a meditation on the consequences of moral degradation and the inescapable presence of evil.<\/p>\n\nWhat we take away mostly, then, from this overwhelmingly honest work of fiction is less the power of this author\u2019s imagination and capacity for human excavation — though that of course is there, and an artistic truth if there ever was one; it\u2019s more the sense that there are some truths too painfully real to be relayed as such, and thus need a scrim of fiction to be bearable at all. Fashioning a dream-self, tree-self, or any non-self provides a necessary counterpart to what would otherwise be a state of constant incarceration: where \u201cmy prison is not these walls, but my own flesh and bones.\u201d ~Jennifer Kurdyla in Music & Literature<\/em><\/li>\nThe war described in this book is mostly internal, and the large conflicts are more conceptual\u2014young and old, life and death, present and past. Rodoreda\u2019s dreamy, poetic prose is served well by Rela\u00f1o and Tennent\u2019s remarkable translation. A significant entry among the works in the Catalan language. ~Publishers Weekly<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\nMurder Most Serene<\/span><\/em><\/strong>by\u00a0Gabrielle Wittkop<\/span>translated from the\u00a0French by Louise Rogers Lalaurie<\/span>FranceAvailable in the U.S. and in the U.K. from Wakefield Press<\/figcaption><\/figure>\nIn the last days of the Venetian Republic, the successive wives of Count Alvise Lanzi suffer mysterious, agonizing deaths. Murder Most Serene<\/i> offers a cruel portrait of a beautiful but corrupt city-state and its equally extravagant and corrupt inhabitants. Redolent of darkness, death, poison and transgression, it is also an over-the-top, tongue-in-cheek Venetian romp. Rich in historical detail and bursting with bejeweled putrescence, Gabrielle Wittkop’s chilling memento mori eschews the murder mystery in which it is garbed for a scintillating depiction of physical, moral, societal and institutional corruption, in which the author plays the role of puppeteer–“present, masked as convention dictates, while in a Venice on the brink of downfall, women gorged with venom burst like wineskins.”<\/p>\n\nThis is dark, rich, deeply disturbing writing, conscious of its artifice and expertly manipulating that. ~M.A. Orthofer in The Complete Review<\/em><\/li>\n<\/ul>\nThe 2016 judging panel:<\/p>\n
\nAmanda Bullock<\/li>\n Heather Cleary<\/li>\n Kevin Elliott<\/li>\n Kate Garber<\/li>\n Jason Grunebaum<\/li>\n Mark Haber<\/li>\n Stacey Knecht<\/li>\n Amanda Nelson<\/li>\n P.T. Smith<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"The Best Translated Book Award shortlist has been announced! Read the full post<\/u><\/a>.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":17805,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"libsyn-item-id":0,"libsyn-show-id":0,"libsyn-post-error":"","libsyn-post-error_post-type":"","libsyn-post-error_post-permissions":"","libsyn-post-error_api":"","playlist-podcast-url":"","libsyn-episode-thumbnail":"","libsyn-episode-widescreen_image":"","libsyn-episode-blog_image":"","libsyn-episode-background_image":"","libsyn-post-episode-category-selection":"","libsyn-post-episode-player_use_thumbnail":"","libsyn-post-episode-player_use_theme":"","libsyn-post-episode-player_height":"","libsyn-post-episode-player_width":"","libsyn-post-episode-player_placement":"","libsyn-post-episode-player_use_download_link":"","libsyn-post-episode-player_use_download_link_text":"","libsyn-post-episode-player_custom_color":"","libsyn-post-episode-itunes-explicit":"","libsyn-post-episode":"","libsyn-post-episode-update-id3":"","libsyn-post-episode-release-date":"","libsyn-post-episode-simple-download":"","libsyn-release-date":"","libsyn-post-update-release-date":"","libsyn-is_draft":"","libsyn-new-media-media":"","libsyn-post-episode-subtitle":"","libsyn-new-media-image":"","libsyn-post-episode-keywords":"","libsyn-post-itunes":"","libsyn-post-episode-itunes-episode-number":"","libsyn-post-episode-itunes-season-number":"","libsyn-post-episode-itunes-episode-type":"","libsyn-post-episode-itunes-episode-title":"","libsyn-post-episode-itunes-episode-author":"","libsyn-destination-releases":"","libsyn-post-episode-advanced-destination-form-data":"","libsyn-post-episode-advanced-destination-form-data-enabled":"","libsyn-post-episode-advanced-destination-form-data-input-enabled":false,"libsyn-post-episode-premium_state":"","libsyn-episode-shortcode":"","libsyn-episode-embedurl":"","_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[798],"tags":[],"coauthors":[505],"class_list":["post-17918","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-news"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/03\/BTBA-2016-Stamp.png?fit=451%2C451&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pqqvZ-4F0","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":false,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17918","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17918"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17918\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17919,"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17918\/revisions\/17919"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/17805"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17918"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17918"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17918"},{"taxonomy":"author","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mookseandgripes.com\/reviews\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/coauthors?post=17918"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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