#womenintranslation — Public Fediverse posts

📗 "De lijnen die mijn lichaam tekenen" by Mansoureh Kamari, translated from French into Dutch by Elisabeth Van Haegenborgh

Also available in Portuguese and Croatian, but not in English. Very literally, the Dutch title means 'the lines that draw up my body'.

This is a graphic novel-style memoir about the author's childhood as a girl in Iran. It's about how terrifying and bleak life can be as a woman, and about how that already enters one's life at a very young age. There's a lot of anger and despair that comes with dehumanization, being lawfully nothing more than the possession of your father or husband. The sense of powerlessness that comes with risking so much everywhere you go, from 'everyday' sexual assault by strangers to execution by the state.

I'm used to reading a lot of dark books, but this one made me tear up quite a few times. I think it's the way the illustrations and their framing of them capture some feelings of dread, fear and sadness so well. Some panels immediately made me hold my breath. The drawing style overall is beautiful, everyone's faces contain emotions very well. The color palettes also change for scenes set in the past versus the ones that take place in current day France, where the author lives now.

Certainly a recommend if you're able to read any of the available languages.

#WomenInTranslation

📘 "Vita Nostra" by Marina Dyachenko & Sergey Dyachenko, translated from Russian into English by Julia Meitov Hersey

Vita Nostra is one of my favorite books, so this a reread for me. It's part of a trilogy, but can be read as a standalone. I actually still need to read the third book, so I'm rereading the first and second to prepare.

No matter how often I return to this book, it still holds up for me. I don't think it's a book for everyone, but if it hits, it will hit you in a very peculiar way that no other novel does.

For me, this is a book about having to abandon a life you expected to have. It's about being forced to adapt, to transform into someone your past self would have never recognized. It's about the struggle of being isolated from your (former) loved ones, because they'd never understand and they're moving on without you. But it's also about endurance, curiosity, solidarity, and finding a way to embrace or reject your new circumstances (I think it's up to the reader to decide).

More concretely, this book follows Sasha, an everyday young woman with everyday dreams for the future. That is, until one day an intimidating man shows up, one wearing a dark coat and mirrored glasses that reflect your own expression of fear once you encounter him. "Do this task, or else." Or else what? Finding out is traumatizing, but not just for you. You better listen and do the tasks, after all, like he promises, he never asks for the impossible...

All this spirals into a 'magic school story' that refuses to follow any tropes and plays with the laws of language and physics whenever it wants to. What I love so much about this novel are its characters. No matter where I started with them, love or hate, my view of them always changes as I learn to understand them better. The protagonist's battle between her extreme resistance to what's happening and her desire for knowledge is such a fascinating ride.

Overall, it's a cold, stressful and scary story. Often it will tackle things that might come with a lot of unease. One of them is the threat of disfigurement/disability. I think, on a first read, this can come across as very crass in the first half of the book. Personally, I think the second half of the story completely changes this view and it becomes clearer how this showed more about certain people's perspective of human bodies than anything else. It fits the story, like maybe body gore does for some other stories.

I return to this book whenever I feel alienated. When reading this, I feel like life being incredibly strange, unexpected and dystopian might not be worse than what I thought it would be in the past. It's simply different. New values will emerge. New bonds will present themselves. Past me might think of current me as an abomination, but current me can only look back in sympathy: honey, you got a big storm coming.

Maybe, current me and distant future me are looking at each other just like that right now as well. Who knows?

I'm looking forward to returning to the next book soon, "Assassin of Reality".

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "Baren en moorden" by Sayaka Murata, translated from Japanese into Dutch by Luk Van Haute

Not available in English yet, but I'm sure it's coming some day soon! The Dutch title, literally translated, would be 'to birth and to murder'. I wonder what the English title will be. The Birth Murder? Birth and Murder? Murderous Birth?

Imagine a world where you could commit murder legally. Simply birth ten living children and you'll gain the right to murder anyone you'd like, fully state-sponsored and without any consequences. Or commit a murder without having done the required the work beforehand, and get sentenced to birthing children until your very last breath. Cute system, no?

Of course this transformation has happened along with great changes in the world, in societies, and in personal attitudes, but I'll leave that to the reader to discover for themselves. Peering into the text, I think this could count as climate fiction too.

The book is very interesting on its own. We get to follow one person's view into how the system is leaving its mark on daily life in a very personal way. But part of the fun of this novel is imagining more and more beyond what the story lets us see. What would you do? What would those around you do? How could this system be abused by those who wish to? How would you live with the dread of potentially being targeted for legal murder? What would political schemes look like? Would there be activists sacrificing themselves to have a chance at assassination when the time is ready?

In my personal Murata disturbingness scale I'd put this entry as follows: this book is way more disturbing than Convenience Store Woman. It's a tiny bit less disturbing than Life Ceremony. It's quite a bit less disturbing than Earthlings. I haven't read Vanishing World yet, so no comparison for that for now. Honestly, this book is doable, it's mostly the last ten pages that will make your stomach turn.

I can imagine myself rereading this once the English edition releases. When I read Earthlings, I said I'd never reread it again. But for months now I've been feeling a desire to revisit it. Sayaka Murata's books don't just punch and leave, they bury themselves deeply and linger on. I can't help but think about them frequently. No matter how disturbing they get, there's also a sense of comfort in them. Some recognition, maybe even confirmation, that what's considered normal might not be normal.

Anyway, like with all of her books, I'd definitely recommend it, but only if you feel up to it.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "Bonobo" by You-Jeong Jeong, translated from Korean into English by Seon Jae An

This book isn't out yet, but will be in a few days. I received a digital ARC from the publisher (thank you!).

This was one of my most anticipated reads, so I was excited to be able to read it early.

This is a speculative fiction told from two different points of view. Half of the chapters follow a man who's been kicked out of his parents' home for being 'useless'. The other half is dedicated to a woman who has been working as a primate keeper and researcher, but gives up on the field after a certain event shakes her sense of self. And then there is a young bonobo, a stunning being who will mysteriously connect all of the characters.

I was expecting a serious novel, and at its core it is. But I was surprised by the characters' delightful and unique tones. Humor and seriousness alternate, silly happenings offer a breather when tensions get high, and some very tender moments offer renewed depth after a moment of laughing. All in all, I'd call this one a tragicomedy.

The book offers a peek into the world of wildlife trafficking and animal suffering, but also gives enough time to the stress of daily human life. What is our role in the world, both as individual, and as humanity? The epilogue was very satisfying for me. All might not be well, but all is as it should be.

My only frustration with this book was with the story's structure and how it created a pace that felt a little clunky. Mostly in the second half of the book certain characters meet up, get separated, meet up, get separated over and over. A few locations are visited, left behind, revisited, left behind, and once again returned too. Instead of that pattern spinning up a cool spiral towards the final destination, for me it came across more as a little clumsy -especially after a slower first half of the book. It made the book feel longer than it had to be.

Overall, I still liked this book. It didn't meet my (maybe unfairly) high hopes because of its pacing issues, but I had a good time and I'm glad I read it. May this start a trend within climate fiction, I'd really love to see more books about the bonds between wildlife and humans, and about what we as humans owe to the animals whose environments have been destroyed and whose freedom and autonomy have been taken away.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "Over de berekening van ruimte VI" by Solvej Balle, translated from Danish into Dutch by Edith Koenders & Adriaan van der Hoeven

The English translation (On the Calculation of Volume VI) probably won't be available until somewhere in 2027.

There isn't much I can say without spoiling. Just like with several of the previous books, I was hesitant in the first half and fully on board for the second half. Once certain knowledge and plans came to light, my curiosity was piqued.

For most of this series I've wondered why it was overwhelmingly X (remaining so vague so I won't spoil anything). Wouldn't there be some more Y present? It's something that kept bugging me, but this volume showed me that actually, there was Y all along. I'm so satisfied with how that turned out and how it was woven into the story!

The next book will be the last. There's one particular ending I'm expecting, one ending that I'm hoping for, and two other endings that I can imagine that I would like less. But who knows how this story will conclude? I'm sure it will be fitting.

Before VII comes out (hopefully next year), I hope I'll have the patience to go back and read book I-VI in one go. I think it will add a lot to the story. There are patterns and details that turn out to be so important, being able to keep reading will keep my attention ready for such moments, and I'll be fully immersed before picking up VII and saying goodbye to this long journey. I'm looking forward to it.

#WomenInTranslation

📘 "De vrouw die de honden eten gaf" by Kristien Hemmerechts

Available in English as "The Woman who Fed the Dogs", translated from Dutch into English by Paul Vincent.

This book is being (re)published as part of the 'Read the World A to Z' series by World Editions. This is the entry for B, Belgium.

Initially I was disappointed with this choice and I didn't want to read the book, because it's a controversial one, based on a true crime case. Then I did read it and I changed my mind.

I wrote a post about it, talking about the book's background and how it relates to Belgium's recent history, but I got so carried away that it went over the character limit of my Masto server by a lot (oops, haha).

So instead I turned it into a blog post. If you're interested, you can find it here:

https://readingrecluse.bearblog.dev/the-woman-who-fed-the-dogs-by-kristien-hemmerechts/

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "All That Dies in April" by Mariana Travacio, translated from Spanish into English by Will Morningstar & Samantha Schnee

This book isn't out yet, but will be in October 2026. I received a digital ARC from the publisher (thank you!).

Told in short chapters, initially this is the story of a woman leaving her drought-stricken home, walking down dangerous mountains towards the sea. Some of her family have made the journey before her, and some will again after her, in search for better circumstances.

I don't think this novel needs more introduction than that. Part of the beauty of the book is to experience the travels along with the characters, to be as tense, surprised, overwhelmed and amazed by what can be encountered as they are.

It was hard for me to put the book down. It's written beautifully, it almost reads like poetry because the flow works so well. It fits the label of climate fiction and it felt haunting to read in between multiple natural disasters, both close to home and around the world. It's about family, displacement, moving where circumstances force you to go.

I wouldn't have heard of this work if it wasn't for World Editions' new publishing project: Read the World A to Z. This was a very strong entry, and I'm looking forward to the rest.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "Terminal Boredom" by Izumi Suzuki

Translated from Japanese into English by Polly Barton, Sam Bett, David Boyd, Daniel Joseph, Aiko Masubuchi, and Helen O'Horan.

This is a collection of sci-fi short stories from the 1970s and wow, I loved reading them. I was surprised by how incredibly contemporary they felt, timeless even.

With its realistically written characters, the stories worked well on this small, everyday scale, but the stories also never lost sight of the bigger scale societal critique. There's a tale being told in the foreground, but in the background there are always little clues about the state of the world. Every ending is strong. The author never lets the reader hanging, she kindly cuts the thread so you can plummet into a black hole. I think the way all those elements come together was done very well.

It's hard to talk about all of the stories in general, so I'll give a few thoughts per story.

Women and Women: Maybe this is my least favorite of the collection. It's about a matriarchal society that has locked up men like cattle, yet gender norms have remained in a new way. An interesting look into gender roles and how limited people can be in their ideas for how to exist as a society. I wasn't convinced by this story halfway through, but then the last few pages came along and oof. It sets the tone for the collection: get ready to be uncomfortable.

You May Dream: So much put into one short tale. A look at toxic friendship, depression, a lack of a future, privacy, freedom. What is there to live for when you can be summoned for a specific duty at any time? When drafted, would you want to live on in a different form in another's mind?

Night Picnic: The silly goose of the collection. It felt like somewhat of a lighthearted break, while still reflecting on human behavior. Loved the ending.

That Old Seaside Club: All of the melancholy, with such a sad ending. This could have been easily turned into a Black Mirror episode. Great story.

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes: I think I felt the least connected to this story, but I still appreciated it. What counts as withering away? When does self-destruction become an active, conscious act? Is it every really a choice? Made me think about the concept of bedrotting.

Forgotten: I think this was the best story. So claustrophobic, so stressful, so sad, darkly humorous. It had such good pacing, everything built up well. I couldn't stop until the end and then those last few sentences crushed me. I feel crushed thinking about them again. This is what I wanted from Ray Bradbury's "The Martian Chronicles" but never got. It's about people being miserable and destructive. It's about memory: if we find cruelty so horrible, and we always vow to never forget, why do we as a species keep repeating ourselves? Thinking of this story again as the AfD's victory is announced. Human memory truly is short. Just like Sayaka Murata's books, this story makes me sad to be a human.

Terminal Boredom: Thank you for traumatizing me. What a gut punch to end the collection with. This felt like the most now-story in here. It's about using apathy and hedonism for coping, checking out of empathy, and seeing the people around you as NPCs. With the present and future looking so bleak, how in touch are we with reality? Have some moved beyond caring? How does that affect our humanity?

I think the author had her finger on the pulse of modern life. I fear her stories will be relevant for many more years.

How this book isn't known as one of the spec fic classics (yet?) is beyond me. I know it wasn't translated and bundled together until recently, but still. A hidden gem.

I'm putting her other works onto my ereader as we speak. I hope I'll like them as much as I've enjoyed this collection.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "To the East of the East" by Ping Lu, translated from Chinese into English by Jeremy Tiang

This book isn't out yet, but will be in November 2026. I received a digital ARC from the publisher (thank you!).

This is an interesting novel that combines three storylines. One is about the protagonist travelling to Beijing. Her husband told her he was repositioned there for work, but she hasn't heard from him in a long time. Fearing that he's missing, she goes there to investigate. Along with that are a collection of letters, most of them written by the main character's husband. In between those there's a manuscript for a historical novel, parts of which the protagonist reads to another person.

It's a book of opposites and overlaps, of things facing each other. Two partners in a relationship, China and Taiwan, past and present, what could have been and what is. There are many lenses to use to look at this novel with, many layers intertwining with each other. There's a balance of warmth and cynicism that I liked. Both the cover art and the book's title get explained at a certain point too, I find it very satisfying when that happens.

My favorite part of the novel were the letters. I think they were really well done. People can write what they're scared to say out loud to one another, as these sections show. Secrets get revealed, emotions get processed, the characters' fears come to light. It's very sad, how life can go. How years of trauma and insecurity can build up, preventing communication...

At first I didn't expect to enjoy the manuscript parts that much. Its setting is centuries ago and the narrative makes some jumps. But I came to really like it. It feels like it's truly written by the protagonist, not the book's author. There are word choices and descriptions that fit the main character and her experiences well. Slowly it reveals how everything is linked. Her and her creative work, but also China and Taiwan's political situation, and how bonds between individuals and bonds between countries might share some tensions.

The one disappointment I had in the book was one particular scene. It's hard to describe without spoiling anything, but I thought it was an overused cliché. Especially in TV shows I see this happen a lot, where a sex scene is combined with a different scene that displays something like a tragic event happening or a memory that's being relived. The focus shifts from one to the other continuously, contrasting the two settings. This book has one of those scenes. Yes, it technically fit and yes, it had its function. I guess it's an issue of my personal taste, but I'm not too fond of it. To me, the flashback, memory, reflection part of that scene was one of the most beautifully written parts of the book. I'm not sure how the author could have shown us this side of the character without combining it in this way, but still it made it feel a bit corny, which was a pity.

Overall it was a good read, one that needed some time to sink in. During the reading process I wasn't too sure how it would all come together, but the more I think about the book afterwards, the more I've come to like it. A recommend for anyone who enjoys to ponder things while looking out over the sea.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

When the Museum is Closed is a quirky story of loneliness, love, freedom and belonging, translated from Japanese to English.

#Reading #WomeninTranslation #books #bookstodon

📘 "Virtue and Rosalind" by Anne Serre, translated from French into English by Mark Hutchinson

This book isn't out yet, but will be in November 2026. I received a digital ARC from the publisher (thank you!).

I was excited to read this title after having read "A Leopard-Skin Hat" by Anne Serre last year. This book has the same beautiful language, but its structure is quite different.

This book is a series of short anecdotes, as remembered and told by the protagonist. It feels like you're sitting somewhere, outside, sharing a drink while you get to hear about parts of their life. The tone is generally airy and I had a few good laughs, but still it manages to casually touch upon very serious topics. There's a bit of whimsy going on, maybe even a bit of deception too. Quite a few chapters focus on relationships between women. What to make of these experiences? Where do the lines blur between memory, reality and fiction?

I thought the language was elegant and flowed well. The text simply felt very human, pleasant to read, and I looked forward to reading a few chapters every day.

The book doesn't have an overall plot or a standard start and finish. I think some might be disappointed that there isn't a clear narrative to follow. Approaching this book as a collection of interconnected short stories might be the best way to enjoy it.

I thought the structure was playful, it fit the storytelling well. Yet, I still found many pieces a little forgettable. They were nice to read while reading, but they didn't hook themselves into my mind, they didn't linger on for days or weeks. Maybe it's too much of an ask, but it's what I appreciate most in literature.

Overall I'm glad I read this, and I'll be looking into more of Serre's other works.

#WomenInTranslation #WITmonth

📘 "De kleuren van het getto" by Aline Sax & Caryl Strzelecki

Available in English as "The War Within These Walls", translated from the Dutch by Laura Watkinson. A notably different title, the original title means 'the ghetto's colors'. Did they opt for that change because the word ghetto might have different associations in modern day US English than in mainland Europe? I wonder.

This is a graphic novel about the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising meant for younger readers. There's no text balloon dialogue or anything like that. There are pages of illustrations and pages with text (parts novel-like and parts poetry-like) and the two add to each other. The art is gloomy and fits the setting well.

I like that it's a story about resistance and about its cost. It shows that there's meaning in organizing and fighting back, even if there's only a very small chance (or even no chance) of success.

The language is simple and short. I wasn't too fond of it, but it's not meant for me. I think it's easily accessible for a younger audience. It's clear and straightforward. Still, the topics covered are harrowing and intense. Maybe make sure you don't give this to someone who's still too young for it.

Overall I'm happy that books like these exists to introduce teens to difficult historical topics. I think I would've become interested in history way earlier in life if I'd had encountered a book like this one when young.

#WomenInTranslation

📘 "Scattered All Over the Earth" by Yoko Tawada, translated from Japanese into English by Margaret Mitsutani

I fell in love with Yoko Tawada's writing last year and I've been reading through all of her available works since then. This was another success for me. It's the first in a trilogy, so I have more to look forward to.

In this book the world is much the same and also very different. We follow a few characters while in the background a dystopia is slowly revealed. The set-up for the characters almost feels like an RPG: party members get gathered one by one for a journey through culture and language.

I think the characters might be controversial to some. I think they're all interesting, but they're also flawed people who do questionable things, have some unpopular views and use some outdated terms. Because the story is told from multiple points of view, we see the characters as how they experience themselves and as how they're perceived by others. It's fun to see where these personas match up and in what ways they differ a lot. It shows cultural differences between people and bares the assumptions many might easily make. In this way, I don't believe the text is clueless or trying to be offensive, I think it's deliberately offering a perspective that provokes reflection on how people develop different views and on how misunderstanding arise.

The way language, culture and history shape communication, and thus the flow of information and our collective or individual knowledge, is a question that weaves itself through every sentence. How did this get appointed to that, why did they believe that so and so is like this? Sometimes the characters, naively and with confusion as they question the world around them, come to a conclusion that's the core of a modern-day issue. With an innocent tone they hit the nail on the head of a topic that might be obvious, but is also often danced around, taboo or very politically tense. It's fun.

I assumed the novel was set in the near future, but a specific event that happens in Norway in the book showed that the book might be alternative history. Or rather, a near future that has arisen from a slightly altered history compared to our timeline. The author threw in a name closely related to the event mentioned. I remain vague to avoid spoilers, but it did upset me and I felt a lot of resistance to it at first. Why would the author do that? Is she being insensitive? But as I read on, over the pages I started to like the choice for this path. I came to see that this strong reaction I had as a reader is because of a memory I share with others. It's our collective painful memory, an undesired part of our culture, and even something as simple as a name became part of our collective language.

I think the region you are in will strongly influence how you read this book, just like my reaction explained above. It made me think of the term '9/11'. Nine eleven, in English, it's immediately clear what's meant with that. But in Dutch, saying those numbers out loud is meaningless. You either have to pronounce it in English, or you have to use a very different word. Once I was at a health check-up on the 9th of November, and the nurse was making some small talk. "You're probably too young to remember this," she said, "but today is the day the Twin Tower attack happened. That's why they call it 9/11 over there." I wasn't too young to remember, but what an odd situation, haha. I didn't correct her, I just let it go. I can only imagine the mix-up happened because with dates in Dutch you mention the day before the month, instead of the other way around. She was misremembering a major event because of the influence of her language. It could have come straight out of a Tawada book.

Reading this book was so fun for me, I have no other way to describe it. There's something so magical about someone in Germany writing in Japanese about a non-existent universal Scandinavian language and making a wordplay that resembles Danish enough that I as a Dutch speaker can understand it while reading the English translation. Only Tawada's books offer me such moments.

There's a lot of layers in this book, too much to discuss them all here. It makes me a little sad that this book, like many of Tawada's works, gets such a low rating on Goodreads. Her books are unique, quite odd, and love to delicately trample on set ideas of how things are and should be. Somehow they're uncomfortable and comfortable at once. I'm really looking forward to the rest of this trilogy.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation #WITmonth

📗 "War Diary" by Ingeborg Bachmann, edited by Hans Höller, translated from German into English by Mike Mitchell

This is a non-fiction book with maybe a bit of a misleading title. It consists of three parts. The first is a war diary, the second is a collection of letters and the third is an afterword.

The diary is written by Ingeborg Bachmann, who lived on to become a famous Austrian author. I'd never heard of her before, which I'll have to remedy by reading some of her fiction soon. This part of the book is super interesting, written when the author was around 18 years old. It chronicles some of the last few days of WW2 in Austria and some of the period after the British army has arrived. Bachmann's parents were Nazis, but she herself was mostly trying to avoid their influence and other drastic responsibilities forced upon her. I think the way she reflects on the adults around her, despite being raised in these circumstances, is fascinating. I'm quite sad this diary part was only about 30 pages!

The second part consists of letters written by Jack Hamesh, a Jewish man who had fled from Austria to England in the 1930s, and who was now a British officer there. He fell head over heels for Bachmann. After leaving the area he kept in touch with her until 1947.

These letters are mind-boggling. They're sweet, but also odd. What's up with this man? It's somewhat questionable to fall in love with a teenager in a country that you're occupying, but okay. Let's overlook it. He's Jewish and is often very upset and bitter about the Holocaust (understandably), but then he also frequently inquires about Bachmann's (Nazi!) father and reminisces about how warm and pleasant he found her home and her family. He could get an award for tolerating cognitive dissonance within himself.

Not only that, Hamesh moves to Palestine (aka now Israel) and eventually retires from the army. His letters are simultaneously very affectionate and very hateful. In 1946 he writes:

"And how much happier I would be to be with you today, to hear your dear voice again, to share your worries and at the same time to defy these times with a laugh. For we understood each other at a time when none of the rest could free themselves from people's hatred for each other."

I found that sentiment to be very warm. Then, just a little while later, he writes about his new environment:

"There’s oil here, the Suez Canal, the way to India, Jerusalem, Christ was born here, the Jews used to live here, for centuries now the Arabs have been vegetating here, living a wretched life you would hardly believe possible.”

I guess he didn't free himself from all of his 'hatred for each other' after all.

Then in 1947, in his last letter, right before the Nakba:

“The living standard of the Arabs has risen a hundredfold and it is a lie when people say the Jews have made them landless. Not one Arab has had to leave this land.”

These are no longer love letters. It's just Zionist ramblings. And then we get to the afterword, which is almost fully dedicated to analyzing the diary and letters with regards to Bachmann's future novels. Interesting, but I feel a little crowded by the elephant in the room. The afterword ends with the disappearance of Jack Hamesh. Nobody knows why where he went, what he went on to do, it's a big mystery.

But wait, no, there's a second afterword for the new edition! They found out about him! It turns out he lived out his life in Israel, married, got kids, did some random jobs. Wow, amazing to have finally found this information! The end!

This uncritical afterword truly soured it for me. Jack's position as a former soldier, his Zionist ideas and the data on where he was during certain years, aren't painting a pleasant picture of him. It's unfair to speculate, so I won't, but even just from his own words, he wasn't a kind person (to put it lightly). I came out of this book thinking Ingeborg Bachmann dodged a bullet by choosing not to build a future with him.

I feel like by combining the diary with the letters and the mysterious disappearance information, the book tried to push the idea of a romantic tale too much. The way the two connected right after the war, especially intellectually, sounded very touching. But it's certainly no material for a cute fairytale. Acknowledging all of the disturbing context would've made this text more valuable in my opinion.

Anyway, the diary is well worth the read. The letters might be interesting to some for getting a view into one person's mind in very unique circumstances. The book as a whole, eh, I don't know. Give it a chance if it's interesting to you, with its downsides in mind.

#WomenInTranslation

📘 "Orlanda" by Jacqueline Harpman, translated from French into Dutch by Eveline van Hemert

Available in English with the same title, translated by Ros Schwartz.

Girlhood is rough, and being a woman is not much easier. Don't express this, don't do that, don't show this, don't pursue that. For some it's a lifetime of pushing down genuine personality traits and interests in favor of becoming what society deems a respectable woman. A good girl. Someone that isn't shunned.

Now imagine pushing so much down and down, so much over so many years, that it's basically enough to form its own person. And now image that pushed down person saying: 'Hey, I'm sick of always being pushed down.' Not only that, now imagine them jumping ship, leaving you, literally exiting your body, and kidnapping the body of a random man so it can go lead its own life. What happens now?! There's only half of you left!

Harpman's novel is fascinating. It goes into gender, sexuality, womanhood, what it even means to be you. The narrator in the book is its own character as well and adds another layer to the storytelling. There are multiple interesting ethical dilemmas unfolding with every move the main characters make. I don't want to talk about the content too much, though. I think it's best to explore it on your own first.

The author's passion for literature is clear throughout the story, which I love. This book existing fills me with warm feelings too. I'm so happy Harpman's "I Who Have Never Known Men" became a bestseller, so we're getting more translations and reprints of her other works now. May all of her books become easily accessible one day.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "A Plagued Sea" by Kim Bo-Young, translated from Korean into English by Sophie Bowman

This book isn't out yet, but will be in August 2026. I received a digital ARC for it (thanks!).

A lovecraftian horror novella that takes place in a fishing town under quarantine. Circumstances in the past have caused the protagonist to be stuck there, coping with daily life in maybe not the best ways.

I'm always interested in stories that deal with infection in some way. I quite liked how this book wasn't overly scary, but built up a sense of unease with its atmosphere. The plague is not understood, there's not even consensus over its origin or the way it spreads. People seem to be coping in different ways, and the world at large might not be treating the infected ones as decently as one would hope...

The story tries hard not to fall into the trap of representing evil with ugliness, deformity and sickness. It tiptoes a fine line between the (body) horror of unknowable beings and the mistreatment and othering of anyone too different from the norm. Even the characters themselves bring up a comparison to leprosy colonies.

I liked the tense dynamic of the sealed-off village versus the outer world, and how the two might look upon one another. But I also think it could have been made stronger by exploring this theme more heavily, upping the ambivalence, creating more uncertainty and strong emotions, giving the reader more opportunity to reflect on the issue themselves. Although the storytelling was interesting to read, I also think it lacked the depth necessary to truly do such a complex topic justice. Some situations were resolved too easily, and some ideas were quickly glossed over by something like an 'uhm, actually not true' remark from this or that character.

The main character remains a bit of a mystery for the reader too. She doesn't often express her emotions and her intentions are not always clear. The context offers enough to understand her, but still leaves enough room for surprise at how intense the protagonist suddenly seems to be invested in certain things. Depending on the reader, this could either be a pro or a con.

Overall I thought it was a fun read with interesting ideas, limited somewhat by its execution.

#AmReading #PlagueBook #WomenInTranslation

📘 "Ascendance of a Bookworm, part 2: Apprentice Shrine Maiden, volume 1-4" by Miya Kazuki, translated from Japanese into English by Quof, with illustrations by You Shiina

This is a post about four books, the second arc in the Ascendance of a Bookworm light novel series. They're book 4-7 in the series and won't make much sense if you haven't read the first arc.

At this point, the series has fully won me over and I'll probably read all volumes at some point. I mostly read these four during the recent heatwaves (plural, sadly), because they're so easy to read. Even when I'm tired or find it hard to concentrate, I can always make it through these books.

In its core, this is still a book series about a bookworm in desperate circumstances trying to get her hands on books after being transported into a fantasy world where illiteracy is the norm and books are a rare handmade luxury. But the pacing and tone have changed quite a bit in this arc. The stakes have gotten incredibly high, and there are now action scenes, plots twists and cliffhangers. Some subjects that got introduced were more severe than I had expected. The world of this story is already rough: society is based on an extreme class difference, so there's lots of poverty and child labor is basically a necessary everyday occurrence. But in this arc the lifestyle of the rich and privileged come into view, and with it a lot more ugliness. Be warned that there's quite a bit of talk about child sexual exploitation in these volumes.

The setting is changing too. The world was so small before, limited by the means of the main character. But now that she's gaining more resources, the world is opening up. We get to see other parts of the city and even a few completely different regions. I loved that.

This arc also introduced many new side characters. I became particularly fond of the High Priest and Fran. There's also an increase in bonus chapters at the end of every volume, which are written from different characters' perspectives. One of them, at the end of volume two, was heartbreaking. It offered a rare view into the protagonist's previous life and left behind a bittersweet note that rang through the next volumes.

This is also the arc where the main character finally reaches the milestone of making her first book. What a journey it's been (almost three years have passed in the story I think since the first book) and yet it feels like only the beginning. Onto the invention of the printing press, baby!

Disability and sickness are still a main pillar of the story, although it's been woven into the lore of the world more. It seems fitting. I like that it's plot relevant, and I also appreciate that despite (healing) magic existing, there has been no full magical healing of the protagonist up till now. There are no magical quick fixes, just intense uses with consequences. The protagonist is still someone who needs to learn to pace herself to remain upright.

I'll probably take a small break from the series for now, but I'm looking forward to the third arc. I know there's an anime adaptation, but I haven't watched it yet. I'm wondering if I should catch up to where I'm at in the novels, or if I should save it all until I'm fully done reading.

#LightNovel #DisabilityLit #WomenInTranslation

📘 “The Long Version” by Petra Hůlová, translated from Czech into English by Alex Zucker

This book isn't out yet, but will be in September 2026. I received a digital ARC for it (thanks!).

This novel follows a female author right after a recent book release. She’s ageing past 50 and her relationship with her works and as a public figure are changing. One day her two teenage children find her journals and snoop through them, finding out the questionable circumstances of how her career started. Her daughter is not letting it go, to great anger of the protagonist. It’s a painful confrontation that makes it clear that, (deliberately or not), if her daughter ever has to deal with something like that in her own life, she’ll have to deal with it on her own.

This was a fascinating character study. I love reading unlikable main characters, but this really pushed the limits and almost made me reconsider. Probably because she’s so realistic, an everyday variety of frustrating person that completely got under my skin. In her thoughts she compares everyone, belittles others, is very negative about her children and freely admits how much she lies. She genuinely never misses an opportunity to snark on anyone and is so judgemental. This open view into her mind is difficult to bear.

The protagonist’s hypocrisy is also through the roof. She writes about female solidarity, but looks down on every woman and caters to the men in her life. She promotes motherhood, but is never interested in the development of her own children. She moves in the circles of intellectuals but laughs at almost any kind of knowledge and true discussion of ideas. She literally gives speeches about things she has never acted on herself. As a reader younger than the protagonist and with more sympathy for her daughter than for her, this is like looking at an older generation and being completely baffled by their self-assuredness in the face of the terrors they've helped create. How is she this full of herself? How is she so reflective and self-aware for some subjects, but also somehow not at all for most of the things in her life?

I thought the second half of the book was the strongest half. I spent enough time with the protagonist to get more insight into the why and how of the way she acts. How she can’t handle conflict with any serious depth to it, how she can’t even deal for one second with any subject that truly would hit an emotion buried deep inside. How her coping relies on lying and looking away, never questioning the ideas and worldview she's grown up with. The story doesn’t force any kind of redemption arc for the main character onto the reader. It just feels sad, the way things go sometimes, even whole lives.

Would recommend if you enjoy reading books about terribly flawed people, or like reading about topics like metoo, generational differences, women’s sexuality and invisibility as they age, family dynamics. Very well written, but I’m so glad to be out of this woman’s head now.

#WomenInTranslation #AmReading

📗 "Trieste tijger" by Neige Sinno, translated from French into Dutch by Martine Woudt

Available in English as "Sad Tiger", translated by Natasha Lehrer.

One of the best non-fiction books I've read so far this year. One that makes it hard to have clear thoughts to express afterwards, which is a good thing.

This is a memoir about the author's youth, in which she was sexually abused by her stepfather for many years. Once she'd come of age and left her childhood home, she spoke about it to her friends, then to her mother, and eventually the system. There's a trial, the stepfather goes to a cushy prison, comes out, starts a new life with a different young wife and kids. What now?

The author has her own life and her own family. The trauma of what was done to her lives on in everything. Now what?

This is more than a reflection on child abuse and sexual violence. It questions what people we see as monsters and why. It also wonders about the what and how of literature like this: who writes it and why? Who's reading it? What are our motives? What is its place in a society where things like this keep happening anyway?

The perpetrator got off lightly and can live with himself, while the author is shunned in her village of origin. Isn't that how these things go? Maybe I keep reading books like this hoping to see a different ending, or hoping to spot some form of resilience to emulate to deal with things being like this. Maybe somewhere deep down I believe that if I learn enough about how things go wrong, it's preventable, or it can be changed. I'm not sure. The author reflects on this too. What is the value of talking and reporting? What does it mean to 'win'? Especially the parts about the concept of 'being damaged for life' were tough.

With all of these questions, it feels impossible not to think about the Epstein files. Sinno keeps circling back to a historian's answer to why any kind of abuse happens: because it can. If circumstances allow it, there are people who will do it. It's difficult to cope with how much was leaked of the files, yet not much has changed. The reporting on it is either in denial or sensationalist, victims are shut down, important questions are not being asked openly, the perpetrators walk around freely, the rapists rape because they can. Who's allowing them?

This book also relates itself to "Tiger, Tiger" by Margaux Fragoso, a memoir that has stayed with me since reading. Another book I kept thinking about while reading this was "Pet" by Akwaeke Emezi, a novel about adults thinking they've created a utopia where 'monsters' can't hurt children anymore. But what about everyday people?

Anyway, zooming back in again and sticking to this book: I think it's very good, if that wasn't obvious yet. It's a hard read because it's very graphic and the author doesn't feel like letting the reader off the hook too easily. Would recommend, if you have the headspace to handle this topic.

#AmReading #memoir #WomenInTranslation

📗 "Wanneer de wereld slaapt: verhalen, woorden en wonden uit Palestina" by Francesca Albanese, translated from Italian into Dutch by Manon Smits & Pieter van der Drift

Available in English as "When the World Sleeps: Stories, Words, and Wounds of Palestine", translated by Gregory Conti.

Happy 'Let's all boycott Eurovision 2026 together' week. I used to love watching Eurovision, but not anymore. Eurovision is dead set on platforming Israel, a settler state that's currently committing genocide and waging war. I'd rather not spend my time watching spineless clowns claim to be united through music while whole populations are being decimated. Are you looking for something else to do this week as well? A great alternative would be reading this book.

This book focuses mainly on Albanese's work as United Nations Special Rapporteur on the Occupied Palestinian Territories. It discusses the horrific crimes against humanity that are being committed by Israel against the Palestinian people, but more than that it explains how difficult it can be to speak about it. It's so obvious that we're dealing with occupation, genocide and war. But even with millions of people protesting in the streets, mentioning Israel's atrocities can still make you a controversial person. The memoir parts of the book show it clearly. Albanese tells about events of hers that have been cancelled, the countries where she has been shunned, and the endless campaigns that have been set up against her.

Despite talking about the difficulties of her position, I don't think it takes away the spotlight from the Palestinian voices she includes in the book. There are many examples taken from the past years to illustrate why we shouldn't be talking about a 'conflict' and shouldn't support general both-sideism. Albanese speaks eloquently, admits mistakes she's made in the past, explains why she approaches things the way she does now and never compromises on ethics.

The original Italian cover and the Dutch translation feature an artwork by Malak Mattar. I saw online that it's in the English edition as well, on the endpapers. The full art piece can be seen amongst others on this page: https://gallerygirl.co/2023/09/20/podcast-gallery-girls-meets-malak-mattar/

I'd highly recommend this book, especially for people trying to learn more about Palestine but who might feel a little intimidated by books that dive right into politics or history. I think this is an approachable text. It's personal, with depth and with emotions.

I'm not sure if this is the case for all translated editions, but the proceeds from the Dutch translation go to charities of Albanese's choice that offer legal assistance to people who are being oppressed because they stand up for the rights of Palestinians.

#AmReading #FreePalestine #WomenInTranslation

📘 "The Passengers on the Hankyu Line" by Hiro Arikawa, translated from Japanese into English by Allison Markin Powell

Another mixed feelings read for me this week. This is a fairly short work of fiction about a few passengers on a train. It's about how their lives briefly intersect and how that changes them. It reads like something right in between a slice of life novel and interconnected short stories.

What I really liked about the book was its structure and general train ambiance. The way the text travels one way and then back again does exactly make you feel like you're making a round trip yourself. Very creative, very satisfying to read.

I also liked how to character stories got woven into each other. Unfortunately, what I liked less were the characters' stories themselves. Every romantic plotline did not feel sweet to me. An adult man dating a high school girl. Two unexperienced youths explore love together, but we learn that the girl has been grimacing through all their sex activities until she received advice on how to experience less pain from other women in her life. Apparently the boy never saw a reason to question this before. In a different newly formed couple, the young man keeps sulking because his girlfriend can hold her liquor so well, how could he ever make a move on her when she's this clear-headed? All of these scenarios are presented as kind of funny, I just find them sad.

There's a tale about a woman taking revenge on her ex-fiancé for cheating and marrying someone else. Fun, except that her hatred started to be solely focused on the other woman as someone who seduced her clueless man away. Combined with multiple other scenes that are filled with women being catty to each other (and it being thought of as typically feminine), it kind of let me down.

A few chapters focus on public humiliation as a method to teach people social etiquette. These scenes left me feeling awkward. Have you ever seen any of these online videos in which people try to teach their pet that something is bad, by doing the thing themselves and then acting like they're really hurting or dying? The pet is supposed to react like: 'oh damn, better not do that thing, look at what happened to that guy'. This novel was the author doing the dramatic reenactment of what happens when you're rude on public transport, and I as the reader was the uncomfortable pet. I get it, but also, I'm not eight years old.

For me, this book read like a showcase for a community where sexism is common and where you better focus on behaving according to the established norms or else. The trouble is that I don't think this book is meant to be read like that. It's supposed to be cute, it's kind of cozy. To me it's vaguely sad. Sad, but with an original and fun storytelling structure. Not a bad read, but maybe not the escapism I was hoping for either.

#WomenInTranslation

📘 "If We Cannot Go at the Speed of Light" by Kim Choyeop, translated from Korean into English by Anton Hur

This book isn't out yet, but will be next week! I received a digital ARC for it (thanks!).

This is an interesting, reflective collection of sci-fi short stories. I enjoyed my time with it, but also have some mixed feelings. I think this collection could have been great, but it's 'just' good enough.

The stories have intriguing plotlines. The ideas are good and engaging, you can see them shine in the centre of every tale. The stories take common sci-fi tropes and build on them, branching out and daring to ask difficult questions about people's motives. It doesn't shy away from uncomfortable emotions. The variety of characters and views add on to this, creating a collection that will make anyone introspective.

Where I think the work falls short is in its narrative style. On a sentence by sentence basis, it's okay. Not a writing style to rave about, but also not anything to be disappointed by. However, the way every story unfolds was very jarring to me. The flow, the reveals, the twists, the pacing - it was off. Most stories are told in parts that go together, so you as the reader can understand what happened in the past that led up to what's going on now, and what some of the consequences will be. I think these parts are created too artificially and are fit together like puzzle pieces that don't fully click. I find it such a pity, because most stories could've made a more hard hitting impact if only they'd been restructured to have a better flow.

Most of the story endings were a hit for me, there was only one I actively disliked, the others made me very content. My favorite story was definitely the last one, 'My Space Hero'. I also think 'The Materiality of Emotions' has a high discussion/ book club potential.

Although I may sound a little disappointed, I still think it's a collection worth reading. I'll keep an eye on the author and her next release, because I expect her to improve with every story written and I'm curious to see what ideas she'll come up with next.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "Kallocaïne" by Karin Boye, translated from Swedish into Dutch by Bart Kraamer

Available in English as "Kallocain", translated by David McDuff.

Although I wish to spread the love of reading all the time, sometimes it's difficult. Especially now, when books feel simultaneously more important than ever in this fascist landscape, but also frivolous to focus on when war is waging. I've also been distracted by a new health issue that sadly requires some medical attention (I'm fine), filling my head with new questions like "will there still be gas to drive to the hospital?" and "what if the bomb drops when I'm under sedation?". Every day I feel overwhelmed, scared, angry and upset.

Instead of screaming about the US and Israel and their allies and all of the horror that they've been causing, and all the other countries who passively stare at it all (please EU, just follow Spain's lead), let me just scream about this book instead of spiraling even more. This novel that unfortunately fits so well in this terrible year.

I was surprised that I had never encountered this book before, since it's a dystopian classic that could (should!) be as well-known as 1984 and Brave New World, but sadly isn't (yet!). In it we get to read the written report of a chemist, living in a totalitarian state that is supposedly at war with a neighboring state. It's a collectivist society with long work hours and barely any opportunity for free will. The protagonist has just invented a serum that forces people to express their true inner life, effectively making thought crime something that can be acted upon.

This is obviously a sad book, but it has so many strong points. Despite its deeply developed, bleak world, there's no info dumping. As the reader you slowly learn about how the state is run throughout the novel, and every time you realize something new about its inner workings, no matter how much it's in line with everything, it's still shocking. The protagonist is just as interesting as the worldbuilding: utterly convinced of the righteousness of the state, proud to be a cog in the machine, yet ever so self-centered and hypocritical. What an interesting, complex combination of a personality.

There was one scene that I can't get over, it was so artfully done. Being vague to avoid spoilers, it's essentially a scene in which the protagonist thinks he'll gain total power over another person. But it plays out differently, in such a way that the power dynamics completely switch around, and the protagonist is the one figuratively stripped naked and vulnerable. I was just as surprised as the main character was at that point. Loved it. People could be writing 20-page essays about just that one scene.

In an odd way, I think the book is not only depressing, but also hopeful. Not in a pushy way, but... a truth serum could be a double-edged sword. What if everyone's truth in a bad regime is that they're afraid, tired and miserable? What does this knowledge do to another person, especially if you're used to a world that's so dangerous that you've never been able to know anyone's true thoughts besides your own? Food for thought (secretly, in the privacy in your own head -for now).

Kallocain was written and published in 1940, clearly inspired by the war, by Hitler and Stalin, maybe even by their divvying up of parts of Europe. Dark times, not unlike now. The author committed suicide in 1941. Reading that made me sadder than reading the book. Do you feel like this too, like we're always losing the good ones, the ones who understand and can pierce through the nonsense of this world, the ones who are needed the most?

I feel like after all that heaviness, I should conclude with something optimistic, but I can't think of anything right now. Maybe people will come to their senses. Maybe something good will come of resisting. Maybe certain people will have a deadly heart attack soon. Maybe we'll encounter the man in the high castle, and he will ask us to transport a tape, and on that tape we'll see...

A girl can dream.

#WomenInTranslation

📘 "Small Comfort" by Ia Genberg, translated from Swedish into English by Kira Josefsson

This title was released earlier this month. I received a digital ARC for it from the publisher (thanks!).

Some days I can shift my focus from the burden of seeing how my access to money has directed every single choice in my life to reading a good book about how fictional people's access to money is directing every single choice in their lives. I fear there's a metaphor in there somewhere.

This is a short story collection about wealth, class and the individual awareness of financial inequality (and of course the yearning to be free of it -or look away from it- once you notice it). I call them stories, but rather they're an interview, a letter, a speech, research notes turned diary, and prose sprinkled with a character's ideas jotted down in a note app. I really liked this unique structure with lots of variety.

To my delight these were interconnected short stories. Characters and items from one story will make an appearance in another, the happenings of one are news in the next, and if I stretch it a little more, I think there are also consequences, words and ideas that travel from story to story.

I flew through this book and laughed often. Yes, it's about money, its value, and our (societal) attitude towards it, but it's also very much about people and their relationships and the hoops they jump through in life, willingly or not. The third and fifth story were my favorites, but I liked all of them.

I think the stories are silly and self-aware enough to be funny, without ridiculing the seriousness of the topic of inequality. Maybe they're a little too on the nose, a little straightforward, but sometimes that was what made it amusing. A tragicomedy that never let itself wander too far away from being light-hearted.

#AmReading #InternationalBooker2026 #WomenInTranslation

📘 "Women Without Men" by Shahrnush Parsipur, translated from Persian into English by Faridoun Farrokh

This is a book set in Iran in which we follow a variety of women, all with different backgrounds and circumstances, but who are all suffering due to the misogyny that has deeply shaped their lives. With alternating perspectives and a wonderful tinge of magical realism, these characters start moving towards each other. It becomes a tale of women changing their lives for the better with the cards they've been dealt, within the strict confines of their society.

I think it's so skillful to be able to create a story that is serious enough to tackle topics like femicide, sexual violence, suicide and patriarchal oppression well, but that's also funny enough to almost make me snort my drink out of my nose. I loved the dialogues. And I really came to appreciate the character Munis. Her thirst for knowledge, her silent outrage at having been fooled, her frustration slowly warping into despair at some way of knowing and existing being forever out of reach... I loved being part of her transformation.

I think this is a book for people who believe that the best revenge is a life lived well. Even then, it might be hard. Not everyone is or becomes a good person. Some women don't change much. Some women pick lives not many would envy. But I still found it comforting to have seen them come together, to experience their influence on each other and to see them depart again on their own paths. Truly a great read.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation #InternationalBooker2026

📘 "She Who Remains" by Rene Karabash, translated from Bulgarian into English by Izidora Angel

IBP season continues! But unfortunately I didn't like this longlist entry.

This is about a young woman in Albania living in a patriarchal culture according to the laws of the Kanun. She becomes the patriarch of her family by committing to being a sworn virgin: women who are regarded as men after they've renounced their womanhood and pledged to remain 'pure'. With this action they gain the rights and freedom men have as well. However, for this main character, things didn't go as planned.

Sadly I thought the story remained shallow compared to what it could have been. If there was a lot of research put into it, it doesn't come across that way. The gender dynamics are the highlight of the novel, but they were mostly explored in obvious, expected ways. A lot of potential hiding in a story that was too simplistic in my eyes.

The most interesting part of the book was the experimental writing style combining prose, poetry and letters. I liked it for what it was, but still, I thought that it could have been utilized more effectively to really strengthen the story and put some different perspectives on things, but it didn't go that far.

I wasn't too happy with the book so far, but it was still a so-so experience for me. Then I entered part two, where the book really tumbled down the mountain and fell on its face. The personality change in the protagonist was jarring, the love story was superficial, the letter we got to read was full of cliches, I hated the reason given for the protagonist's stomach cramps, and the ending was so desperately Hollywood that I felt punished for finishing the book.

I looked forward to reading this title the most from all of the titles on the IBP longlist, so it was extra disappointing. I'm still very much interested in the topic itself though, and when I was looking around for other related reads I stumbled upon 'Sworn Virgin' written by Elvira Dones, which is now on my to-read list. I also came across an online article about a photographer who made pictures of some of the last sworn virgins. Very cool project, the link is here:

https://lenscratch.com/2013/09/jill-peters/

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation #InternationalBooker2026