#womenintranslation — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #womenintranslation, aggregated by home.social.
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📘 "On Earth As It Is Beneath" by Ana Paula Maia, translated from Portuguese to English by Padma Viswanathan
So good. I've been brewing on this the past week, I can't let it go. It's somewhere in me forever, just like the author's other work, 'Of Cattle and Men'.
Briefly, this is a story about men, stuck in a penal colony that has lost contact with the outside world. The prisoners wear an anklet that will explode when they leave the premises. The warden might be hunting them. The guards might not be as safe as they believe themselves to be either.
Not so briefly... this is a story about humans and humans, about humans and non-human animals, about hierarchy and power, about cycles of generations of people forming systems, about society at large throughout the ages.
The way human's most horrific behavior is put away as 'brutish', 'beast-like', 'inhumane' -as if distancing ourselves from it. It's beneath humans. Humans are civilized and special and good in their truest form. Nevermind that humans have committed horrors for ages, individually and systematically, against each other and against anything other, and keep doing it. Civilization, progress, being superior, are we kidding ourselves?
This book reads really tense, it's hard to not read it in one sitting. One of the characters of 'Of Cattle and Men' shows up too, making this novel sort of a prequel. Grueling revelations keep coming, yet I found moments to laugh. Life's absurdity. The way things go sometimes.
I'm convinced Sayaka Murata's fans will love reading Ana Paula Maia, if they can get into the mindset of reading about macho men. In the end, the critique reaches the same wide sea, albeit through a different river. What are we even doing? What does it mean to be a human? Could we maybe be better off not being so intensely human?
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📘 "Hello baby" by Kim Eui-kyung, translated from Korean into Dutch by Mattho Mandersloot & Francisca van Vark
Don't be misled by the English title, for now this Korean book is only available in Dutch and German, but I read that an English translation is coming too. It's cool to see more Korean titles being translated. I remember ten years ago I could barely find a Dutch translation that wasn't translated from an English translation. But now I'm regularly finding Korean titles in Dutch that appear earlier than the English one!
This novel follows a group of (straight) women in South-Korea, most of them trying to become pregnant through IVF treatment. Every chapter follows a different woman's perspective. Some have caring, supportive husbands, most don't. Some are still early on in the process, some have been trying unsuccessfully for many years. They all share a messaging app group where they talk about their journeys, but some difficult feelings emerge when one of them suddenly claims to have just born a child after fifteen years of failed attempts -without medical intervention.
These chapters read kind of like slice of life short stories. They mostly show the expectation that's put on women to become a mother. As a reader you start to wonder if any of these women want to get pregnant for the right reasons (whatever those may be) or if they feel pressured by their husbands, families or society in general. It's kind of a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation for all of them.
I think this a very honest look into the difficult process: the mental struggles, the many, many procedures, the injections, the moments of tense waiting, all of the mourning. And most of all the unfair physical burden that falls on women. My heart sank when one woman, after so many treatments and pain, demands her husband to care by asking him if he even knows the difference between IVF and artificial insemination. He didn't.
An interesting read, even if you don't have children and can only imagine what a desire to have them would feel like. Reading this mostly made me happy to be voluntarily childfree... Maybe it could be a bit of a triggering read if you're going through IVF, but who knows, maybe it could be very comforting to see all these women go through the same thing at the same time.
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📘 "Repetition" by Vigdis Hjorth, translated from Norwegian into English by Charlotte Barslund
This title isn't out yet, but will be released in March 2026. I received a digital ARC for it (thanks!).
Two months ago I read 'Norwegian House' by Vigdis Hjorth and liked it so much that I've been looking around for more books by the same author. My library is purchasing some (yesss) and on Netgalley I was able to read an upcoming translation, Repetition. I read this in one long sitting, because I couldn't put it down. It was so good that it has convinced me to read every Vigdis Hjorth book I can get my hands on.
In this novel we follow a 60-something protagonist, remembering a period in her life as a 16-year-old girl, living at home. Her father is quite absent, her mother scrutinizing and overbearing. She has no privacy, no confidants, no safe place. The book is claustrophobic, filled with the dread of still having to be in your parents' home, having to return there every day, still being young and dependent and unable to act without having to justify yourself.
No other book for me has described quite as well the feeling of confusion and self-doubt that can come with being raised by people who refuse to treat you well or see you as your own, valuable person. That creeping sense of alienation when you see your peers do activities as if it's easy and self-evident, while you struggle, overanalyze and plan around abuse. That uncertainty that develops when your own parents think the worst of you. The way the paragraphs and chapters go back and forth between certain thoughts and feelings enhanced the emotions even more.
If you've read other Hjorth (autofictional) books, you probably saw the end coming. I didn't! What a shock! Yet it added another layer of understanding to the book, one that would make a reread different. On your first read you get to experience the time in her life mostly as the unknowing, overwhelmed teenager, and on a reread as the adult, with hindsight. Beautifully constructed.
I can't wait to dive into 'Will and Testament' as my next Hjorth read.
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📘 "De Parijse trilogie" by Colombe Schneck, translated from French into Dutch by Marijke Arijs
Available in English as "The Paris Trilogy" or "Swimming in Paris", translated by Lauren Elkin and Natasha Lehrer.
I was browsing Marijke Arijs's translations and the Dutch cover immediately grabbed my attention. It's stunning. It's a part of a painting called 'Bliss', painted by T.S. Harris.
Back to the text though: this is a bind-up of three novellas, all autofiction. I fell in love with two of them, and thought the third one was okay.
The first novella is about the author's abortion when she was a teenager, not that many years after abortion (under certain circumstances) became legal in France. Schneck comes from a well-off and progressive family and she can access this type of healthcare relatively easily, yet the experience becomes something unmentionable in her life. This novella, breaking the silence, reads like an ode to Annie Ernaux, the procès de Bobigny, and all of the women who came before her. It's open, sincere, plain but clear. I loved reading it.
The second book is about two friends, both from a high class background, but only one of them comes from 'old money'. It's extremely self-aware, making the privilege bearable. It's about how two girls can be thick as thieves, but also rivals, and how jealousy and social differences can threaten the bond, making it unequal and difficult at times. It looks at how, despite their wealth, they still endure girlhood and turn into women limited by a patriarchal society. But all of this is accompanied by the knowledge that one of them will pass away early due to cancer and leave the other behind, alone. It's written beautifully, but it's a very sad read. The difference between two people, so easily it becomes a barrier to love and friendship.
The third novella taps into this theme too. The author wanders in her memories, of crushes on girls and boys, her first loves, the lovers she took after her divorce. It hones in on one specific partner she had for a short while, a man very different from her, who eventually left her, but also kind of strung her along. She's stuck on him for years, which was sad to read about. It explores the fear of being (left) alone, especially after having experienced the death of family members and friends already. I got kind of frustrated reading this, but also understood where the author was coming from. The ending was fitting and somewhat of a relief.
Overall, this was a great collection. I'd recommend them all, separately or collected, but I think they work very well together as a trilogy like this.
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📘 "De Parijse trilogie" by Colombe Schneck, translated from French into Dutch by Marijke Arijs
Available in English as "The Paris Trilogy" or "Swimming in Paris", translated by Lauren Elkin and Natasha Lehrer.
I was browsing Marijke Arijs's translations and the Dutch cover immediately grabbed my attention. It's stunning. It's a part of a painting called 'Bliss', painted by T.S. Harris.
Back to the text though: this is a bind-up of three novellas, all autofiction. I fell in love with two of them, and thought the third one was okay.
The first novella is about the author's abortion when she was a teenager, not that many years after abortion (under certain circumstances) became legal in France. Schneck comes from a well-off and progressive family and she can access this type of healthcare relatively easily, yet the experience becomes something unmentionable in her life. This novella, breaking the silence, reads like an ode to Annie Ernaux, the procès de Bobigny, and all of the women who came before her. It's open, sincere, plain but clear. I loved reading it.
The second book is about two friends, both from a high class background, but only one of them comes from 'old money'. It's extremely self-aware, making the privilege bearable. It's about how two girls can be thick as thieves, but also rivals, and how jealousy and social differences can threaten the bond, making it unequal and difficult at times. It looks at how, despite their wealth, they still endure girlhood and turn into women limited by a patriarchal society. But all of this is accompanied by the knowledge that one of them will pass away early due to cancer and leave the other behind, alone. It's written beautifully, but it's a very sad read. The difference between two people, so easily it becomes a barrier to love and friendship.
The third novella taps into this theme too. The author wanders in her memories, of crushes on girls and boys, her first loves, the lovers she took after her divorce. It hones in on one specific partner she had for a short while, a man very different from her, who eventually left her, but also kind of strung her along. She's stuck on him for years, which was sad to read about. It explores the fear of being (left) alone, especially after having experienced the death of family members and friends already. I got kind of frustrated reading this, but also understood where the author was coming from. The ending was fitting and somewhat of a relief.
Overall, this was a great collection. I'd recommend them all, separately or collected, but I think they work very well together as a trilogy like this.
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📘 "De Parijse trilogie" by Colombe Schneck, translated from French into Dutch by Marijke Arijs
Available in English as "The Paris Trilogy" or "Swimming in Paris", translated by Lauren Elkin and Natasha Lehrer.
I was browsing Marijke Arijs's translations and the Dutch cover immediately grabbed my attention. It's stunning. It's a part of a painting called 'Bliss', painted by T.S. Harris.
Back to the text though: this is a bind-up of three novellas, all autofiction. I fell in love with two of them, and thought the third one was okay.
The first novella is about the author's abortion when she was a teenager, not that many years after abortion (under certain circumstances) became legal in France. Schneck comes from a well-off and progressive family and she can access this type of healthcare relatively easily, yet the experience becomes something unmentionable in her life. This novella, breaking the silence, reads like an ode to Annie Ernaux, the procès de Bobigny, and all of the women who came before her. It's open, sincere, plain but clear. I loved reading it.
The second book is about two friends, both from a high class background, but only one of them comes from 'old money'. It's extremely self-aware, making the privilege bearable. It's about how two girls can be thick as thieves, but also rivals, and how jealousy and social differences can threaten the bond, making it unequal and difficult at times. It looks at how, despite their wealth, they still endure girlhood and turn into women limited by a patriarchal society. But all of this is accompanied by the knowledge that one of them will pass away early due to cancer and leave the other behind, alone. It's written beautifully, but it's a very sad read. The difference between two people, so easily it becomes a barrier to love and friendship.
The third novella taps into this theme too. The author wanders in her memories, of crushes on girls and boys, her first loves, the lovers she took after her divorce. It hones in on one specific partner she had for a short while, a man very different from her, who eventually left her, but also kind of strung her along. She's stuck on him for years, which was sad to read about. It explores the fear of being (left) alone, especially after having experienced the death of family members and friends already. I got kind of frustrated reading this, but also understood where the author was coming from. The ending was fitting and somewhat of a relief.
Overall, this was a great collection. I'd recommend them all, separately or collected, but I think they work very well together as a trilogy like this.
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📘 "De Parijse trilogie" by Colombe Schneck, translated from French into Dutch by Marijke Arijs
Available in English as "The Paris Trilogy" or "Swimming in Paris", translated by Lauren Elkin and Natasha Lehrer.
I was browsing Marijke Arijs's translations and the Dutch cover immediately grabbed my attention. It's stunning. It's a part of a painting called 'Bliss', painted by T.S. Harris.
Back to the text though: this is a bind-up of three novellas, all autofiction. I fell in love with two of them, and thought the third one was okay.
The first novella is about the author's abortion when she was a teenager, not that many years after abortion (under certain circumstances) became legal in France. Schneck comes from a well-off and progressive family and she can access this type of healthcare relatively easily, yet the experience becomes something unmentionable in her life. This novella, breaking the silence, reads like an ode to Annie Ernaux, the procès de Bobigny, and all of the women who came before her. It's open, sincere, plain but clear. I loved reading it.
The second book is about two friends, both from a high class background, but only one of them comes from 'old money'. It's extremely self-aware, making the privilege bearable. It's about how two girls can be thick as thieves, but also rivals, and how jealousy and social differences can threaten the bond, making it unequal and difficult at times. It looks at how, despite their wealth, they still endure girlhood and turn into women limited by a patriarchal society. But all of this is accompanied by the knowledge that one of them will pass away early due to cancer and leave the other behind, alone. It's written beautifully, but it's a very sad read. The difference between two people, so easily it becomes a barrier to love and friendship.
The third novella taps into this theme too. The author wanders in her memories, of crushes on girls and boys, her first loves, the lovers she took after her divorce. It hones in on one specific partner she had for a short while, a man very different from her, who eventually left her, but also kind of strung her along. She's stuck on him for years, which was sad to read about. It explores the fear of being (left) alone, especially after having experienced the death of family members and friends already. I got kind of frustrated reading this, but also understood where the author was coming from. The ending was fitting and somewhat of a relief.
Overall, this was a great collection. I'd recommend them all, separately or collected, but I think they work very well together as a trilogy like this.
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📘 "De Parijse trilogie" by Colombe Schneck, translated from French into Dutch by Marijke Arijs
Available in English as "The Paris Trilogy" or "Swimming in Paris", translated by Lauren Elkin and Natasha Lehrer.
I was browsing Marijke Arijs's translations and the Dutch cover immediately grabbed my attention. It's stunning. It's a part of a painting called 'Bliss', painted by T.S. Harris.
Back to the text though: this is a bind-up of three novellas, all autofiction. I fell in love with two of them, and thought the third one was okay.
The first novella is about the author's abortion when she was a teenager, not that many years after abortion (under certain circumstances) became legal in France. Schneck comes from a well-off and progressive family and she can access this type of healthcare relatively easily, yet the experience becomes something unmentionable in her life. This novella, breaking the silence, reads like an ode to Annie Ernaux, the procès de Bobigny, and all of the women who came before her. It's open, sincere, plain but clear. I loved reading it.
The second book is about two friends, both from a high class background, but only one of them comes from 'old money'. It's extremely self-aware, making the privilege bearable. It's about how two girls can be thick as thieves, but also rivals, and how jealousy and social differences can threaten the bond, making it unequal and difficult at times. It looks at how, despite their wealth, they still endure girlhood and turn into women limited by a patriarchal society. But all of this is accompanied by the knowledge that one of them will pass away early due to cancer and leave the other behind, alone. It's written beautifully, but it's a very sad read. The difference between two people, so easily it becomes a barrier to love and friendship.
The third novella taps into this theme too. The author wanders in her memories, of crushes on girls and boys, her first loves, the lovers she took after her divorce. It hones in on one specific partner she had for a short while, a man very different from her, who eventually left her, but also kind of strung her along. She's stuck on him for years, which was sad to read about. It explores the fear of being (left) alone, especially after having experienced the death of family members and friends already. I got kind of frustrated reading this, but also understood where the author was coming from. The ending was fitting and somewhat of a relief.
Overall, this was a great collection. I'd recommend them all, separately or collected, but I think they work very well together as a trilogy like this.
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📘 "Hotel Iris" by Yoko Ogawa, translated from Japanese into Dutch by Luk Van Haute
Available in English with the same title.
The only thing more disturbing than this novel is that I've seen people call this a 'BDSM love story'.
This is a book about an isolated teenage girl. Her father is dead, her mother is abusive. She isn't allowed to finish school, but has to work in her family's hotel all day, every day. Every minute of her life is controlled and her future looks bleak. She has no friends, nobody to talk to and certainly no-one she can trust.
It's a sad Cinderella tale, except the prince coming to get her is a violent man in his 60s. He's known for his outbursts and it's rumored that he has killed his wife. He starts a manipulative friendship with the underage protagonist, sending her sweet but guilting letters and inviting her to his home on an island. She goes along with it.
What follows is scene after scene of sexual violence. You really need to go into this book mentally prepared and not pick it up randomly like I did. It gets even more disturbing, because we're inside the girl's head. She seems to invite getting hurt, like it suits her. It looks like she's welcoming almost dying, relieved that life could be over. Her self-loathing and lack of agency over her life somehow scream in silence and it's sad to see her give into that instead of doing anything, honestly whatever, just anything at all to escape. It's like watching weeks of self-harm. It all gets extra tragic when she keeps recounting happy childhood memories about her dad whenever the older man is kind to her. My god.
I feel beat up after reading this. It's obviously good, but I'm so glad it's over. I feel like it has a high lolita-potential: it's super messed up, but it could be romanticized, twisted or misread. Or maybe I'm the one completely misreading it? Either way, I want to leave the book behind for good. Please tell me "The Memory Police" will be easier to read.
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📘 "De bruidegom was een hond" by Yoko Tawada, translated from Japanese into Dutch by Luk Van Haute
Available in English as "The Bridegroom Was a Dog". I think the English version has additional stories, but the Dutch version has just the one.
This novella was off-putting and super funny. It's a little shocking, somewhat gross, certainly laughter-inducing and totally strange. I'm not sure what to rate it, because it left me baffled. The sentences were very long, but factual and readable. The ending was good, the puzzle pieces just fit. I don't like what's happening in the book, but I do really like reading it, and am looking at myself questioningly for it like 'you okay?'.
Beyond being a little oddball, this book also touches upon being othered, gossiping, societal norms and some people having to learn that they should be minding their own business. I guess it's kind of a fable? A fairy-tale? Something else entirely? Ultimately it's about a dog licking butts, so who knows.
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📘 "Hunchback" by Saou Ichikawa, translated by Polly Barton
Again? Yeah, again...
I saw that my online library had added the audiobook to their collection and I was curious. I don't do well with audiobooks for new books, but I thought it might be okay for a reread. Some scenes were definitely funnier read out loud, while others were more threatening.
Overall the book was sadder on a second read. I can't get over how we're spending all this time watching the protagonist try to validate her own existence, only to turn into a footnote in another person's life. Will I interpret it differently in the future? I wonder.
I'm still amazed by how much the author was able to include in such a short novel. I hope she keeps writing.
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📘 "Hunchback" by Saou Ichikawa, translated by Polly Barton
Again? Yeah, again...
I saw that my online library had added the audiobook to their collection and I was curious. I don't do well with audiobooks for new books, but I thought it might be okay for a reread. Some scenes were definitely funnier read out loud, while others were more threatening.
Overall the book was sadder on a second read. I can't get over how we're spending all this time watching the protagonist try to validate her own existence, only to turn into a footnote in another person's life. Will I interpret it differently in the future? I wonder.
I'm still amazed by how much the author was able to include in such a short novel. I hope she keeps writing.
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📘 "Hunchback" by Saou Ichikawa, translated by Polly Barton
Again? Yeah, again...
I saw that my online library had added the audiobook to their collection and I was curious. I don't do well with audiobooks for new books, but I thought it might be okay for a reread. Some scenes were definitely funnier read out loud, while others were more threatening.
Overall the book was sadder on a second read. I can't get over how we're spending all this time watching the protagonist try to validate her own existence, only to turn into a footnote in another person's life. Will I interpret it differently in the future? I wonder.
I'm still amazed by how much the author was able to include in such a short novel. I hope she keeps writing.
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📘 "Hunchback" by Saou Ichikawa, translated by Polly Barton
Again? Yeah, again...
I saw that my online library had added the audiobook to their collection and I was curious. I don't do well with audiobooks for new books, but I thought it might be okay for a reread. Some scenes were definitely funnier read out loud, while others were more threatening.
Overall the book was sadder on a second read. I can't get over how we're spending all this time watching the protagonist try to validate her own existence, only to turn into a footnote in another person's life. Will I interpret it differently in the future? I wonder.
I'm still amazed by how much the author was able to include in such a short novel. I hope she keeps writing.
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📘 "Life Ceremony" by Sayaka Murata, translated from Japanese into English by Ginny Tapley Takemori
If Sayaka Murata's books have a million fans, then I'm one of them.
If Sayaka Murata's books have one fan, then I'm that one.
If Sayaka Murata's books have no fans, I'm sorry, that means I'm no longer on this earth (maybe I'm visiting Popinpobopia).Memes aside, I loved this short story collection. Sometimes they're subtly connected and they even link back to other books. They touch on alienation, what it means to be normal or abnormal, trauma, and the absurdity of human society.
In a "wow, that's messed up"-scale from 1 (Convenience Store Woman) to 10 (Earthlings) I'd rate this a 7, so go in prepared.
I'm hesitant to conclude this after 'only' reading three of her works, but I think Sayaka Murata is slowly entering the list of my favorite authors. I only have Vanishing World left, which releases today. I kind of don't want to read it, because then there'll be nothing new left until the next of her works get translated.
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📘 "The Place of Shells" by Mai Ishizawa, translated from Japanese into English by Polly Barton
I'm a little surprised: a new translation by Polly Barton, but I haven't heard any buzz about it. Maybe because it's a really weird book?
Like many mostly plotless books, I think this one has been marketed a little strangely. It's being portrayed as a novel about a dead friend suddenly reappearing. Technically that does happen, but... it's not really handled like you'd expect.
I'm not sure how to describe this book. It's about grieving the 2011 earthquake/tsunami and living with the loss and trauma, but it's also about feeling removed from it. Everything in this dream-like work feels two-sided like that: we're in memories, but also in reality. There's the past, but also the present. Things are lost, but also found. Individuals are dead, but also alive. Statues are here, but also there. Saints are disfigured, but they're also whole. There's still covid, but it's also 'back to normal'. It tackles difficult subjects, but at the same time wants to avoid them. It's like it's low tide but also high tide and as the reader I'm unsure of whether we're in water at all, but I'll try swimming anyway.
Everything takes place in Göttingen, Germany, with some mentions of the NL and Belgium. It's an unusual experience for me: feeling familiar with the general setting of a book, but still it's mostly about Japanese history and its impact on people, and I'm absorbing it all through the English language. What an odd mix.
By the end the novel felt like a bad dream that I wanted to wake up from: uncanny and uncomfortable. Unsettling in a very calm way? Maybe try this is you like magical realism and wandering around without any expectations, or if you like to read about life after a traumatic event while feeling disjointed, like you're still floating around somewhere.
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📗 "Mourning a Breast" by Xi Xi, translated from Chinese into English by Jennifer Feeley
Originally published in 1992, apparently this was one of the first Chinese-language books that openly talked about breast cancer. The author discusses her diagnosis and treatment (mastectomy & radiation), but also just about everything else in her life. The information about cancer might be kind of general knowledge by now, but gives some insight on how taboo and unfamiliar it still was some 30 years ago.
This is one of those memoirs that might suit fiction readers more than people who mostly read non-fiction. The author really follows her interests and thoughts into anything. When you're in the mood, it reads like sitting on a park bench next to an interesting lady who's telling you the most fascinating life stories and you can't wait to hear more. When you're not in the mood, you feel like a cashier and this kind old lady just won't stop talking and the line of customers is getting longer and longer and longer and please, please get on with your day, ma'am!
Funnily enough Xi Xi very much knows her reader, and she doesn't mind you getting impatient or bored. Sometimes when things go on for too long, she gives you hints on where to skip to in the book to get on with her original recounting of her cancer. You go on ahead, I'm not done yet watching the grass move in the wind! She doesn't give a shit, haha.
There's an afterword by the translator that gives a little more context. I was sad to read that Xi Xi passed away in 2022 (not due to cancer) during the translation process, so she never saw this English edition completed. In the book she often talks about English-Chinese translations and comparing international translations for fun, so I assume it must've made her excited to see at least the work getting started.
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📗 "Mourning a Breast" by Xi Xi, translated from Chinese into English by Jennifer Feeley
Originally published in 1992, apparently this was one of the first Chinese-language books that openly talked about breast cancer. The author discusses her diagnosis and treatment (mastectomy & radiation), but also just about everything else in her life. The information about cancer might be kind of general knowledge by now, but gives some insight on how taboo and unfamiliar it still was some 30 years ago.
This is one of those memoirs that might suit fiction readers more than people who mostly read non-fiction. The author really follows her interests and thoughts into anything. When you're in the mood, it reads like sitting on a park bench next to an interesting lady who's telling you the most fascinating life stories and you can't wait to hear more. When you're not in the mood, you feel like a cashier and this kind old lady just won't stop talking and the line of customers is getting longer and longer and longer and please, please get on with your day, ma'am!
Funnily enough Xi Xi very much knows her reader, and she doesn't mind you getting impatient or bored. Sometimes when things go on for too long, she gives you hints on where to skip to in the book to get on with her original recounting of her cancer. You go on ahead, I'm not done yet watching the grass move in the wind! She doesn't give a shit, haha.
There's an afterword by the translator that gives a little more context. I was sad to read that Xi Xi passed away in 2022 (not due to cancer) during the translation process, so she never saw this English edition completed. In the book she often talks about English-Chinese translations and comparing international translations for fun, so I assume it must've made her excited to see at least the work getting started.
-
📗 "Mourning a Breast" by Xi Xi, translated from Chinese into English by Jennifer Feeley
Originally published in 1992, apparently this was one of the first Chinese-language books that openly talked about breast cancer. The author discusses her diagnosis and treatment (mastectomy & radiation), but also just about everything else in her life. The information about cancer might be kind of general knowledge by now, but gives some insight on how taboo and unfamiliar it still was some 30 years ago.
This is one of those memoirs that might suit fiction readers more than people who mostly read non-fiction. The author really follows her interests and thoughts into anything. When you're in the mood, it reads like sitting on a park bench next to an interesting lady who's telling you the most fascinating life stories and you can't wait to hear more. When you're not in the mood, you feel like a cashier and this kind old lady just won't stop talking and the line of customers is getting longer and longer and longer and please, please get on with your day, ma'am!
Funnily enough Xi Xi very much knows her reader, and she doesn't mind you getting impatient or bored. Sometimes when things go on for too long, she gives you hints on where to skip to in the book to get on with her original recounting of her cancer. You go on ahead, I'm not done yet watching the grass move in the wind! She doesn't give a shit, haha.
There's an afterword by the translator that gives a little more context. I was sad to read that Xi Xi passed away in 2022 (not due to cancer) during the translation process, so she never saw this English edition completed. In the book she often talks about English-Chinese translations and comparing international translations for fun, so I assume it must've made her excited to see at least the work getting started.
-
📗 "Mourning a Breast" by Xi Xi, translated from Chinese into English by Jennifer Feeley
Originally published in 1992, apparently this was one of the first Chinese-language books that openly talked about breast cancer. The author discusses her diagnosis and treatment (mastectomy & radiation), but also just about everything else in her life. The information about cancer might be kind of general knowledge by now, but gives some insight on how taboo and unfamiliar it still was some 30 years ago.
This is one of those memoirs that might suit fiction readers more than people who mostly read non-fiction. The author really follows her interests and thoughts into anything. When you're in the mood, it reads like sitting on a park bench next to an interesting lady who's telling you the most fascinating life stories and you can't wait to hear more. When you're not in the mood, you feel like a cashier and this kind old lady just won't stop talking and the line of customers is getting longer and longer and longer and please, please get on with your day, ma'am!
Funnily enough Xi Xi very much knows her reader, and she doesn't mind you getting impatient or bored. Sometimes when things go on for too long, she gives you hints on where to skip to in the book to get on with her original recounting of her cancer. You go on ahead, I'm not done yet watching the grass move in the wind! She doesn't give a shit, haha.
There's an afterword by the translator that gives a little more context. I was sad to read that Xi Xi passed away in 2022 (not due to cancer) during the translation process, so she never saw this English edition completed. In the book she often talks about English-Chinese translations and comparing international translations for fun, so I assume it must've made her excited to see at least the work getting started.
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📘 "There's a Monster Behind the Door" by Gaëlle Bélem, translated from French into English by Karen Fleetwood & Laëtitia Saint-Loubert
Thank you, book, for making me constantly laugh so I wouldn't keep crying!
If you're like me and always look out for arthouse movies that get labeled as 'tragicomedy' and 'dysfunctional family', you're in for a treat with this novel. And if you're a secret lurker on the subreddits for estranged children, then I suspect you might want to eagerly read or completely avoid this -your pick.
This is a drama that constantly zooms out and zooms in while moving along the family tree, with such a unique, fantastic narrative voice... a tiny jewel of wit, bitterness and dark humor.
I'm glad this book exists, and I'm pretty excited that the author's second book is being translated and released this year too. The translators added a note at the start of book and a little footnote list at the end for words they decided to leave be, which I liked.
I wanted to post some quotes that made fall over, but couldn't narrow it down and went over the character limit with dozens of paragraphs. So I'm just going to give you the shortest one, and I hope it'll speak to you and that you'll pick up the book:
"The Shrew (yours truly) had not yet been born."
#WomenInTranslation #AmReading #InternationalBooker #IBPReadingChallenge #books
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📘 "Under the Eye of the Big Bird" by Hiromi Kawakami, translated from Japanese into English by Asa Yoneda
When I saw this was placed on the IBP longlist, I wasn't looking forward to reading it. I've read two novels from the author before: "Strange Weather in Tokyo", which I didn't like, and "Record of a Night Too Brief", which I thought was just okay. But this book pleasantly surprised me, I enjoyed it a lot!
Is there a word for something in between a chapter and a short story? This is a collection of short stories, but ones that can only exist together. They intertwine in a very pleasant way, and the reveals made along the way will probably make a second read even more satisfying than a first read. The journey from not understanding a thing to being completely in the loop is very neat.
Sometimes, no matter how important I think the human arts are, there are days on which reading literature feels empty. Wars are raging on, genocides are being kept up like it's a necessary 9-to-5, societal collapse seems well on its way. Here I am, absorbing all this text like it matters a great deal. Because this book is about human extinction, I felt like that even more. But at the same time, also way less. We can even turn dying off into an art. Isn't that ironic?
I think you'll enjoy this book if you feel hopeless about humanity and you don't want others' toxic optimism about the future shoved into your face. But oddly enough, I also think you'll like this if you're a hopeless romantic and want to see people beat the odds.
I'm glad I gave the author another chance, this book was well worth it. Are there any other titles of hers you'd recommend that I might appreciate?
PS, this is a bit of a side journey, but : Has anyone ever written a paper about (quirky, odd, necessary, funny, scary) alternatives to 'regular' human reproduction in Japanese literature? There must be enough novels out there to fill a book on its own about that, and I'm not complaining.
#AmReading #SpecFic #WomenInTranslation #InternationalBooker #IBPReadingChallenge #books #bookstodon
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📘 "Hunchback" by Saou Ichikawa, translated by Polly Barton
Whenever there's disability lit, I come running. Just kidding, I can't run, but you'll hear the quick tap tap tap of a cane coming closer rather quickly.
I haven't mentioned it here before, but I have a MSc in sexology. My main interest was the overlap between disability and sexology. I did my thesis research on how sex changes within relationships after specific cancer treatments. I don't work in the field, because it was extremely inaccessible and ableist. The pandemic worsened that sentiment x10. All that to say: although my quality of life is way better after saying fyoubye to the world of sexology, I'm still quite passionate about the intersection of sex and disability. I get excited when a novel comes out with these themes. This post is not really going to be a review, more of a mind wander. But connecting all sorts of new and old thoughts is a sign of a good book, right?
I had heard a lot about the book before reading and developed fears because of it:
- I'd heard that the disabled protagonist would pay for sex or a relationship of some kind, and I was scared that it would once again be a story that would enforce the idea that disabled people are unlovable and that love or sex are only possible for them through financial transaction, because nobody would engage in that out of free will without compensation.
- I'd read that the protagonist would desire an abortion, so I got nervous that it would be insensitive to the many years disabled people had to fight for reproduction rights, and that it would play into eugenics.
- I'd seen from a quote that the protagonist was wealthy, and immediately expected to be disappointed, that stories of disability would only be possible on a cushion of money, else the story could only be about perishing.
- I'd heard that there would be a sexual relationship with a caregiver, so I got stressed that this book would trample over the difficult topic of frequent sexual abuse that happens in care homes.
- Considering the title, I was scared that this book would indulge in freakshow aesthetics for the abled viewer, like all those 'disfigured' people as monsters in every piece of media out there, either disabled as punishment or evil because of their disabledness.
There were more fears, but you get the point. There's a lot to think about in criplit and most get it wrong. But I was silly for worrying. This book did not fall in any of those holes. It had massive fun pointing them out, jumping over them, pretending to fall but never really doing so, waving at me and laughing in my face for grabbing my pearls every time. It's so well-layered and aware. It proved to me that texts can be controversial and difficult, with problematic characters and red flag interactions, without it automatically being at the expensive of anyone disabled. I love it. I hope the author keeps publishing. And I hope early reviewers will learn to promote books in better ways so I'm not fearing them as much beforehand.
There were moments of surprise and laughter:
"Oh my god, I thought immediately, he's a creep. He’s self-identifying as a beta male. He's probably an incel. Fuck!"
And rants about physicals book had me nodding along:
"Here I was, feeling my spine being crushed a little more with every book that I read, while all those ebook-hating able-bodied people who went on and on about how they loved the smell of physical books, or the feel of the turning pages beneath their fingers, persisted in their state of happy oblivion."
I read >95% through (e-ink) screens on lightweight devices. Recently I saw a post that said something like 'ereaders might be handy for thick books, but there's nothing like holding a massive book and feeling the real progress that you're making!' and sorry to admit, I rolled my eyes and thought 'well, good for you, bitch'. We all need a vent sometimes.
Other parts brought out a lot of sadness: "I wanted to catch up", and "I probably didn’t have that many chances left at becoming a person". How often had I thought such things about myself? How long it took to switch my view of myself, and how easy such things come rushing back in the right (wrong!) circumstances...
I liked the humor with bitter undertones, the winks to the reader when the text gives in to toxic societal views. But it was also a little hard and sad. I feel like, even if you exceed expectations and go beyond the limits set up for you, behind them there will be another fence, and another. Can you really own or tell your own stories? I'm not sure.
Anyway, I'm nearing the character limit, oops! I'm happy it's pushed forward as good disability lit, but I'm also sad by everyone focusing in on it so much, as if that's all there is to it. And I'm guilty of that too, albeit out of enthusiasm. I don't want to let it go unsaid that this is a well crafted tale with a fantastic translation! Okbye!
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📘 "The Book of Disappearance" by Ibtisam Azem, translated from Arabic into English by Sinan Antoon
A speculative fiction about the Israeli occupation of Palestine: What would happen if one day all Palestinians were to disappear? The few hours before and after that event are explored through short chapters, mostly from the perspective of an Israeli citizen and his Palestinian "friend's" journal.
If this doesn't become a modern classic, I don't know what will. This book would be so good to dissect and discuss in schools, but I'm afraid in many places it will go straight from the printing press into the banned books bin.
I read it slowly. Two chapters in particular made me put the book down for a while to breathe. This book has elements that sneak up on you and chapters that punch you in the gut full force. So often I switched between anger, grief, nausea, stress and warmth. I think the novel is incredibly well-crafted with the different perspectives and sources of information we get as the reader, but go in preparing for an emotional read that will keep haunting you.
I strongly wish this will make the IBP shortlist. I might cry if it won't!
#AmReading #WomenInTranslation #FreePalestine #InternationalBooker #IBPReadingChallenge #SpecFic
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📘 "Reservoir Bitches" by Dahlia de la Cerda, translated from Spanish into English by Julia Sanches & Heather Cleary
Even though I'm currently not physically able to, I swear I'll find a way to flip a restaurant worth of tables if this doesn't make the IBP 2025 shortlist.
This is a short story collection, the best kind: one in which the stories are interconnected and add to each other. They're about women and for women. Even though they contain domestic violence, rape, femicide, I was able to laugh the whole way through too. I think this is a good balance between dark comedy and an honest look into how men are terrorizing beings, creating the worst version of the world possible.
Every time I read a story, I thought 'I think this is my favorite one so far', but I kept thinking that until the last one. And I still think the last story is the best. After laughing and pointing and gasping along, the last story creates the space for reality to hit and for grief to come.
Every character has its own voice, and that's very clear in the translation. This must be great as an audiobook. I've read one book from both translators before ("Eartheater" and "Pink Slime") and I'll definitely look up more.
Currently, after finishing this book a couple of days ago, I feel like I'm in a little bit of a reading slump. Every other book is just 'yeah.. okay', only because I'm still stuck on this one.
I'm also kind of scared that puritan readers are going to shit on this book because it's about women who aren't perfect victims. I'm also kind of scared elitist readers are going to like this book because they'll coddle the characters, in the same way that 'old people are sweeties' and 'disabled are so inspiring' and 'poor workers are sooo hardworking' and 'third world artisans make the best tapestries, so exotic'. You know? Does this make any sense? Okay, whatever, I'll stop whining and girlboss-gaslight-gatekeeping the correct way to read now. This book is tough as nails, it can stand on its own.
#WomenInTranslation #InternationalBooker #IBPReadingChallenge
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📘 "Over de gekte van een vrouw" by Astrid H. Roemer
Available in English as 'On a Woman's Madness', translated from the Dutch by Lucy Scott. An International Booker Prize longlist title I can read in its original language! I can't imagine how difficult this must have been to translate: the order of many sentences, words without an English equivalent, dialect words, English words sewn throughout... whoah.
In this book we follow a young woman, Noenka, leaving home, then leaving an abusive marriage, trying to make her own choices in a life heavily restricted by sexism and the influence colonization has left behind. Its Dutch subtitle is 'a fragmentary biography' -the timeline is not fully chronological, memories and dreams pop up, some dramatic descriptions conceal what's happening here and there. It's confusing, but if you trust the reading process, slowly things become clear and pieces click into place.
The book's title should've prepared me, but I was still shocked at the end of part 3 and with what came afterwards. I also couldn't help myself and became fond of Gabrielle alongside the main character. Gabrielle makes me say: I support women's rights and wrongs, lol. What a mess.
Anyway, it's a difficult read. There are some icky sexual descriptions. I don't think this title will be very popular among longlist readers. Nevertheless, it's a good read and I'm glad it's getting attention. I grew up in The Netherlands and nothing like this was ever on our Dutch reading list. Nothing diverse really, just Max Havelaar, Oeroeg, and dozens of white guys. And although I had to read lots of highly questionable sexual assault, blasphemous, pedophilic and gay sex scenes in high school (iykyk), I don't think there ever was a lesbian one. Man, the things you can randomly think back on while writing a post about a book...
In all seriousness: the Dutch education system is extremely lacking in its education about its ex-colonies and their cruel past. I think books like this getting translated and becoming more well-known is a good thing. At least it was for me, someone originally from the NL, realizing with burning cheeks that I had never read a book from Suriname before.
#AmReading #InternationalBooker #IBPReadingChallenge #books #WomenInTranslation
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📘 "On the Calculation of Volume I" by Solvej Balle, translated from Danish into English by Barbara J. Haveland
A literary speculative fiction about a time loop. This is the first in a seven part series and I'm ready for the ride, let's go!
The protagonist relives November 18th over and over again. The book is her log, her attempt at creating some sense and structure in these strange circumstances. Her body seems to continue through time, but time itself seems to loop on the same day.
I love the novel's slow pace, the curiosity it awakens in the reader, together with a slow build-up of dread, grief and hope. There's lots of experimenting with the borders of the day, with expected and unexpected results.
The author has created a fascinating start to a series, with rules to the system that are slowly revealing themselves, but that remain in many ways unknown, or maybe even non-existent. Still, this leads to heaps of speculation, at least from my side. Here are some of my hopes and dreams for all that might be explored in the rest of the series, because I'm so eager to find out:
- Pregnancy, just imagine how strange that would be for the people around the main character. Would it be possible? Would it force a newborn to be stuck in the loop too?
- Murder! Do dying or killed people reset too?
- A progressive illness, how can you ever get treatment if it continues to progress but you're stuck in the same day and your medical file never expands?
- Long-distance travelling in a vehicle with many others. What if you're in a train, boat or a plane for over 24 hours? Does it reset the vehicle and the other people? Or have you caused them to be displaced, creating an odd difference in the timeline?
- A complete unraveling of the sense of spacetime, of the self, of everything...
- Hints of another person stuck on the same day elsewhere, or a (misguided?) search for one.
- Ageing. Will the protagonist ever die of old age on the same day?
I'm probably so far off with all of my thoughts, but guessing and thinking along is half of the fun for me. I'm looking forward to continuing with the series. Book 2 is already out, book 3 and 4 appear to have an English language release scheduled for later in 2025.
#AmReading #WomenInTranslation #InternationalBooker #IBPReadingChallenge #books
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📘 "A Leopard-Skin Hat" by Anne Serre, translated from French into English by Mark Hutchinson
I've been infected with the excitement for the International Booker Prize of 2025, because the list is full of interesting indie publishers and diverse titles! I'm not sure yet if I'll read them all, but many have captured my interest, starting with this one.
A Leopard-Skin Hat was such a strange but wonderful read. You know when it's the late afternoon, the daylight is slowly disappearing and turning into warm colors, it enters your window, creating long stripes and shadows in your room, meanwhile lighting up all those tiny dust particles in the air, but it's okay because it feels oddly soothing in its own way? That's how this book felt to me.
It's about the Narrator, who's not really the narrator, and his friendship with Fanny, who has died by suicide. Was it truly a friendship? I'm not sure. It's part character study, part question, but also quite meta and a little funny at times. Its touching prose brings it all together.
There's not really any plot to spoil, but if you don't want to read a quote from the last page, now is the time to leave this post! When I started the last chapter, I thought I wasn't going to like it, but it did slowly win me over, until this part finished off any doubt I could've had:
"But while she is rising into the sky —for she’s still up there, her ascent is far from over— it all comes flooding back. “So I was right!” she cries out. “I wasn’t so crazy, after all.” It’s death, in fact, that confirms to her the beauty and necessity of her former self. The terrible misunderstanding that led to her being regarded as ill when, in reality, she simply lived a rather unconventional life."
Trying really hard not to tear up again!
#AmReading #WomenInTranslation #InternationalBooker #IBPReadingChallenge #books
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📘 "Earthlings" by Sayaka Murata, translated from Japanese into English by Ginny Tapley Takemori
Well, I did it. I finished it. I did not come out unscathed.
This is the second book I've read from the author, the other being 'Convenience Store Woman'. I went in kind of expecting that level of alienating from society. I was wrong. This is a good book, but I feel like I must warn anyone who needs CWs to check them out. Do it. Mentioning them here might be a spoiler, though.
Be prepared that this book goes off the rails. Then it tumbles down the mountain, into a ravine. At the bottom it catches fire. It triggers something, so it explodes. It's catapulted into space, without oxygen, and suffocates. Then it falls down and on entry in the atmosphere it burns. Back on earth, dropping into the ocean, it concludes by drowning. Its body gets ripped apart by wildlife. Is that the journey you want to go on? Truly ask yourself that.
Save to say this book is shocking and upsetting, but it's with great critique of societal norms and modern life. It's just fed up with being subtle. I loved how it mixed up extremely relatable thoughts and frustrations with the most repulsive and upsetting things, making you question your own sanity.
The structure of the book is pretty cool. With six chapters, it switches between Y Y A Y A A regarding young/adult life. Uneven chapters are slow shocks, even chapters are extreme shocks. The geographical elevation goes high low high low high, etc. There's more patterns throughout. I have no idea if it's all on purpose, or if I'm simply seeing things, but I enjoyed it.
I've grown fond of Earthlings, but I don't know if I can stomach reading it again. They're completely different titles, but the stress I felt reading this was a bit like the anxiety I felt while reading 'Blood on the Tracks' by Shūzō Oshimi. Maybe in a million years, once I can reread it in the original Japanese, I'll consider it.
I saw Sayaka Murata will release a new novel in English later this year. I'm excited, but as soon as I saw the cover (all these tiny plastic baby dolls), I got worried. But I'm always yearning for more books about how normal is abnormal, so I know I'll cave in anyway.
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📘 "Idol, Burning" by Rin Usami, translated from Japanese into English by Asa Yoneda
An unexpected little treasure. It gets such a low rating on Goodreads, and I've seen many negative reviews for it, which I think is undeserved.
This is a small novel about a girl having a hard time with herself, societal expectations, and the troubling acts of her idol. I'm not really into fandom culture, and it's not necessary either to be able to appreciate this book. Just be open to what the protagonist is experiencing and sharing with you.
The translation is beautiful. There were sentences that I kept rereading, that convey the heaviness of life and a daily struggle so well. The online/text speak was also really convincing.
The afterword summarizes this text's questions best:
"Sometimes the thing in life you depend on is suddenly subjected to some kind of baffling, cruel calamity. What can you do when that happens? When the only thing you believe in, the one thing that helps you survive, is lost, how do you think about it, and what do you do?"
The translator's note at the end gave me even more appreciation for the book, pointing out some of the imagery that had gone over my head. The notes from the artists about the front cover and the interior art were a treat. A good surprise at the end was the acknowledgement page from the author, which was dedicated to her brother. It's worth reading in full, but I'll share a little part here:
"There's nothing wrong with you, or Akari. It was the things that invalidated you -society, institutions, me that day- that were in the wrong. Your world, which was stifled by our education system, is still, in spite of it, as vibrant as those trees I saw in the hallway of our elementary school."
*rubs eyes*
I'm not crying, you are! -
📘 "The Lonesome Bodybuilder" by Yukiko Motoya,
translated from Japanese into English by Asa YonedaA very fun short story collection. They often explore where things go wrong in romantic relationships using absurd circumstances and magical realism.
I think every story is a little bit better (and more gruesome) than the one that comes before it, so it was very rewarding to keep reading.
#AmReading #WomenInTranslation #WITmonth #JapaneseLiterature
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📘 "This is Amiko, Do You Copy?" by Natsuko Imamura,
translated from Japanese into English by Hitomi YoshioThis book took me a couple of weeks to read because I kept taking breaks between each chapter.
Amiko is a (neurodivergent?) kid who doesn't fit in and can't understand social cues. This book is from her point of view. As a reader we can see her being rejected constantly -getting bullied by peers, getting neglected by her family. She herself doesn't really understand what's going on and why, which makes it extra painful. The text slowly escalates into sadder and sadder circumstances.
It's certainly written well, but only read this if you're ready to get your heart broken.
#AmReading #books #bookstodon #JapaneseLiterature #JapaneseLit #WomenInTranslation
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📘 "A Magical Girl Retires" by Park Seolyeon,
translated from Korean into English by Anton HurI've been looking forward to the release of this novella for a while! Beautiful cover, interesting title, gripping blurb, great translator. I'm brimming with Cardcaptor Sakura nostalgia, so this might as well be catnip to me.
But first a warning: the book is darker than the cover might make you believe, maybe skip this one if the CW you look out for is suicide.
I love it when the translator's name makes an appearance on the front cover. What's even better is that both the translator and the cover illustrator got their own little afterword. I like getting to know what the intentions and thoughts behind their work were.
The story was entertaining to read, and there was decent critique on our financial system, climate change and violence against women. Some really fun and cute characters accompanied me throughout the pages, but ultimately I was still left disappointed. I'll try to be as vague as possible as to not spoiler anything. But if you're someone who doesn't want to know anything at all, stop reading here.
LM was by far the most interesting character to me. I don't hold her first magic action against her. I also think her attitude towards humanity is understandable. I was upset too by the unreasonably large burden the magical girl society pushes onto her. Her reaction was to be expected.
I really think the book did LM dirty to reduce her to a 2D disney villain at the end, and to give her such an ending. The book fell flat for me because of it, and the happy ending was a completely empty one.
Please give me a 400 page literary spec-fic character study of LM that makes us sympathize and sink slowly but deeply into the morally grey with her! Now that would've easily been best book of the year material for me.
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📗 "I Want to Die But I Want to Eat Tteokbokki" by Baek Se-hee,
Translated from Korean into English by Anton HurIf you want to read 100+ pages of therapy transcript, here's a book that's going to interest you. If you don't, stay away. Fortunately for me, I'm a nosy person who has already read many transcripts of all sorts, and I'm always ready to add a few hundred pages more.
The biggest struggle in this book for me, was the quality of the therapy given. I'm not fond of the psychiatrist. There's not much exploring going on, there are so many lost opportunities to ask follow-up questions or to dig deeper into the author's issues. Very quickly the therapist offers an (easy) explanation and moves on, without giving the author a chance to come to her own conclusions. Some sessions felt very aimless.
This view was softened somewhat by the psychiatrist's note at the end, in which they expressed embarrassment for some of their therapy choices. It must be rough to have the eyes of so many readers on you, even anonymously. The very same goes for the author, who must've steeled her heart significantly to be able to publish this. I can't call it anything else than a ballsy move.
Happy to have been able to read this one, although it was also frustrating.
#bookstodon #KoreanLit #NonFiction #AmReading #WomenInTranslation
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THE DEAR ONES by Berta Dávila, translated from Galician by Jacob Rogers
(⋮)
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Hmmm. Qiu Miaojin's Last Words from Montmartre is probably *not* the perfect book to welcome the Year of the Rabbit with now is it? (iykyk)
#QiuMiaojin #LesbianLiterature #ChineseLiterature #TaiwaneseLiterature #LiteratureInTranslation #readwomen #WomenInTranslation
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A novel about the primal guilt that comes with being a mother.
MOTHERS DON’T by Katixa Agirre, translated from Basque by Kristin Addis.
#MothersDont #KatixaAgirre #motherhood #crime #womenintranslation #ReadMoreWomen #3TimesRebel #indiepublisher
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Thank you for this fantastic first year (⋮)
We can't wait to start sharing what's coming up next year for 3TimesRebel.
Stay tuned! 💜
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#3timesrebel #womenintranslation #indiepublisher #ReadMoreWomen #booklove #bookcommunity -
MOTHERHOOD COMES AT A PRICE: YOUR OWN FREEDOM
This book is halfway between a thriller and a journalistic chronicle. A novel about the primal guilt that comes with being a mother
MOTHERS DON’T by Katixa Agirre, translated from Basque by Kristin Addis
#MothersDont #KatixaAgirre #ReadMoreWomen #3TimesRebel #3TR #indiePublishers #womenintranslation #literature #booklove #bookcommunity #booktography #bookreader #bookpassion #books #BookToot
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‘From time to time, I did feel a need to be free of the baby, but whenever I left him to go for a walk by myself, it was worse; the baby's absence constantly weighed heavily on my conscience.’
💜 MOTHERS DON’T by Katixa Agirre, translated from Basque by Kristin Addis
#womenintranslation #MothersDont #ReadMoreWomen #3TimesRebel #3TR #indiePublishers #literature
#booklove #bookcommunity
#booktography #bookreader -
'It took me so long to understand that it was she who was the fraud. It took me so long to understand that the well in which she'd thrown me was her own unhappiness.’
#TheCarnivorousPlant🌱 by Andrea Mayo, translated from Catalan by Laura McGloughlin
#ReadMoreWomen #3TimesRebel #3TR #indiePublishers #womenintranslation #literature #booklove #bookcommunity #booktography #bookreader #bookworm #bookpassion #booksaremylife #ilovebooks
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‘That’s why I didn’t feel sorry for my son, and I didn’t give much thought to who shot him, even though he kept shouting, It was him! Who’s him? It was him, it was him. That smell of death, and it was him, and three men weren’t enough to kill the witch.‘
(⋮) DEAD LANDS by Núria Bendicho, beautifully translated from Catalan by Maruxa Relaño & Marta Tennent.
#womenintranslation #3timesrebel #DeadLands #NúriaBendicho #patriarchy #indiepublishing
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Only women.
Only minority languages.
This is our choice.…………
#ReadMoreWomen #3TimesRebel #3TR #indiePublishers #womenintranslation #literature #DeadLands #MothersDont #TheCarnivorousPlant #Dundee #Scotland -
🇭🇺 Another Love by Erzsébet Galgóczi tr. by Ines Rieder & Felice Newman
🎞️ Basis for a lesbian cult film in the 1980s
#QueerLiterature #Novella #BookReview #TranslatedLitChallenge #WomenInTranslation #WITMonth