Julé Cunningham<p>"This vet is still young; he doesn’t know the second thing about life and doesn’t think of animals as his equals. And if he doesn’t, what good is it to expect him to talk sense?" -- from the story 'Gulpa' in the collection 'To Go On Living' by Narine Abgaryan, trans. Margarit Ordukhanyan, Zara Torlone</p><p><a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/WednesdayBookQuote" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WednesdayBookQuote</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/books" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>books</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/CurrentlyReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>CurrentlyReading</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/bookstodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>bookstodon</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/Armenia" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>Armenia</span></a></p>
mstdn.social is one of the many independent Mastodon servers you can use to participate in the fediverse.
A general-purpose Mastodon server with a 500 character limit. All languages are welcome.
Administered by:
Server stats:
12Kactive users
mstdn.social: About · Status · Profiles directory · Privacy policy · Terms of service
Mastodon: About · Get the app · Keyboard shortcuts · View source code · v4.4.1
#WomenInTranslation
0 posts · 0 participants · 0 posts today
Clare<p>A collection of short stories translated Kannada that shine a light of the everyday injustices women face. </p><p>A constant theme of women doing everything that is expected of them, by their husbands, by society and by God and finding themselves let down. The only solution offered is to try and be more perfect.</p><p>But every character in these stories is described with understanding, empathy, and even a little affection.</p><p>They are heartbreaking and human. And one of the best things I’ve ever read.</p><p><a href="https://hachyderm.io/tags/Reading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>Reading</span></a> <a href="https://hachyderm.io/tags/bookstodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>bookstodon</span></a> <a href="https://hachyderm.io/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a></p>
Julé Cunningham<p>"A flock of village swallows, having abandoned their perches in the cypress trees, are swooping overhead, making notches on the canvas of the quickly brightening sky with their sharp-tipped wings. The first dew—dense, life-giving—falls, dispatching the night. A cricket, confused about the hour of the day, breaks into its drawling song: chirr-up, chirr-up, chirr-up." -- from the story 'Merelots' in Narine Abgaryan's 'To Go On Living', trans. Margarit Ordukhanyan, Zara Torlone</p><p><a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/SundayBookQuote" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>SundayBookQuote</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/books" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>books</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/reading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>reading</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/bookstodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>bookstodon</span></a></p>
penpencilbrush🇨🇦<p>Almost forgot it's Women In Translation Month! One of my favourite theme months.</p><p>Books written by women, not in English, translated into English.<br />I always discover very good things in <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/WIT" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>WIT</span></a> </p><p><a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Books" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Books</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/Reading" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>Reading</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://mstdn.social/tags/WIT" class="mention hashtag" rel="tag">#<span>WIT</span></a> </p><p>Some inspiration<br /><a href="https://youtu.be/t5WsFmp1ERk?feature=shared" target="_blank" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">youtu.be/t5WsFmp1ERk?feature=s</span><span class="invisible">hared</span></a></p>
Clare<p>I finished Dilemmas of Working Women just in time for Women in Translation Month.</p><p>It is a collection of short works translated from the Japanese about women who struggle to resolve the different parts of their identities. Especially in a world that raised them to think that you just need to work hard to get ahead. </p><p>Never mind what other difficulties you might face in life. Never mind the economy crashing (fun how this is still relevant two decades after being written) </p><p>They are sharply observed, wry and complex. Usually when I read a collection of stories I end up with a firm favourite. Here, I can’t decide. They each had something unique to say.</p><p><a href="https://hachyderm.io/tags/reading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>reading</span></a> <a href="https://hachyderm.io/tags/bookstodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>bookstodon</span></a> <a href="https://hachyderm.io/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "Underground Barbie" by Maša Kolanovi, translated from Croatian into English by Ena Selimovic</p><p>This was a fantastic read. Admittedly, I picked this up because of its title and cover, but it paid off. It's a book from a child's perspective, one of those meant for adults, where the child is not fully understanding what's happening around them but you as the reader can pick up the severity of the situation.</p><p>This is set during the Yugoslav Wars, specifically the Croatian War of Independence. During daily running between her apartment and the bomb shelter, the protagonist knows what belongings to bring in her little suitcase: her dearest Barbie collection, of course. Together with other kids she plays with Barbies, Skipper and a very peculiar fake Ken doll.</p><p>Most of this book is the make-belief Barbie play between the children and the stories they make up, accompanied by dozens of (super cool) drawings of what the dolls get up to. It starts of innocently enough, but throughout the book more of the war and violence bleeds through and the reader's stress increases: what are these Barbies doing and what is the inspiration for the children for these tales?</p><p>I loved every page of this book. It's such a good read and so unique too. Very sad but also incredibly funny somehow. One of many, many amazing paragraphs (about a doll called Kajfeš) :</p><p>"Only Oliver Kajfeš, by some miracle, managed to make it out alive. He was plagued by a series of useless questions: Why couldn’t this bloodshed be stopped? [...] Torn by all these questions, in defense of bare life and in search of a better, he stowed his personal belongings in Suburban Shopper Barbie's pink shopping cart, and, alone in the refugee column, he turned his back on this Barbie apocalypse, setting out in the direction of the dark oblivion at the far end of the basement."</p><p>Wishing this book way more readers and popularity. </p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/books" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>books</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/bookstodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>bookstodon</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "De Parijse trilogie" by Colombe Schneck, translated from French into Dutch by Marijke Arijs</p><p>Available in English as "The Paris Trilogy" or "Swimming in Paris", translated by Lauren Elkin and Natasha Lehrer. </p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/DisabilityLit" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>DisabilityLit</span></a></p>
Julé Cunningham<p>Those marvelous librarians at the Seattle Public Library have put together another wonderful book list, twenty-seven books by women writers in translation that have been published this year and are available now. Just in time for August's Women in Translation month.<br><a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/books" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>books</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/reading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>reading</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/libraries" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>libraries</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/PNW" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>PNW</span></a> <a href="https://sunny.garden/tags/Seattle" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>Seattle</span></a> <span class="h-card" translate="no"><a href="https://a.gup.pe/u/bookstodon" class="u-url mention" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">@<span>bookstodon</span></a></span></p><p><a href="https://seattle.bibliocommons.com/v2/list/display/72450558/2814755497" rel="nofollow noopener" translate="no" target="_blank"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">seattle.bibliocommons.com/v2/l</span><span class="invisible">ist/display/72450558/2814755497</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "Hotel Iris" by Yoko Ogawa, translated from Japanese into Dutch by Luk Van Haute</p><p>Available in English with the same title.</p><p>The only thing more disturbing than this novel is that I've seen people call this a 'BDSM love story'. </p><p>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. </p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/JapaneseLit" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>JapaneseLit</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "De bruidegom was een hond" by Yoko Tawada, translated from Japanese into Dutch by Luk Van Haute</p><p>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.</p><p>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?'.</p><p>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.</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/JapaneseLit" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>JapaneseLit</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📗 "Exophony: Voyages Outside the Mother Tongue" by Yoko Tawada, translated from Japanese into English by Lisa Hofmann-Kuroda</p><p>My second book by Tawada and I think I've officially become a fan. I'm now on the hunt for anything written by her.</p><p>This is a collection of essays on language, translation and writing -in the broadest way possible. It's about writing in a different language than your mother tongue, about the way languages influence each other's development, about how languages shape experiences and thoughts, and so much more. You can sense the author's enthusiasm and passion for it in every sentence. It's all the fun of language, without any snobbism or gatekeeping. No native speaker worshipping or ridiculous language hierarchies to be found in here.</p><p>I think most of these essays are from (or just about?) the early 00s, but I could be wrong. There's so many anecdotes about her travels, her work, panels she's been on, events she's joined, artists she admires -I love getting glimpses of that and googling along. Her life is very interesting.</p><p>Most of the book's focus is on German, Japanese and French. Being able to understand any of these will enhance the reading experience, but it's not necessary. For me, the bane of learning Japanese has been studying loan words in katakana. I can't guess them at all until I've studied them. The author passionately hates them too, so her rants about that were super funny to read.</p><p>The text made me reflect on my own language use and made feel less self-conscious about it. My native language is Dutch, but the origin of my accent is unrecognizable for most Dutch-speakers, because it has become an odd mix of Netherlands-Dutch, Flemish-Dutch, English influence, the accent of the region I grew up in and areas I've lived since, the influence of friends from different social classes, and probably a lot more. I've kind of embraced it at this point. As long as people can understand me, it's okay. </p><p>The same goes for English. In my school, students were forced to use UK-English spelling and speaking with an accent that wasn't trying to be British would be frowned upon. I hated it... Learning UK spelling in formal education, but mostly stumbling upon US spelling online, my written English has become a mix of the two over the years and I think it's quite funny, so I refuse to properly join one club. Tawada is very kind about these sorts of things, and also about speaking any language with an accent. So what? It's a signature of being part of a diverse humanity, of going in between the known spaces, of connecting different worlds with each other. I really appreciated that perspective.</p><p>I'm embarrassed to admit it but these essays totally made me consider picking up German, even though I find it a terrible language to learn. But being able to read it would be cool... I told my partner to talk me out of it, but he started to encourage it. No! I barely have the spoons to keep up with my tasks as is, I'm already drained! I need to be stopped!</p><p>Anyway, there's also a little translator's note at the end that ends with this super recap/conclusion: "Tawada’s irreverence for borders is not mere cosmopolitanism; she recognizes the way language always arrives to us from somewhere, and comes embedded in systems of power not of our choosing. Not all exophonic writers arrive at this conclusion, let alone have the ability to hold the weight and violence of language alongside its capacity for experimentation and play. We are so lucky that Yoko Tawada can do it all."</p><p>I agree! </p><p>Highly recommend if you have any interest in languages or Tawada at all.</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/books" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>books</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/NonFiction" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>NonFiction</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/Language" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>Language</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/bookstodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>bookstodon</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "Hunchback" by Saou Ichikawa, translated by Polly Barton</p><p>Again? Yeah, again...</p><p>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.</p><p>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.</p><p>I'm still amazed by how much the author was able to include in such a short novel. I hope she keeps writing.</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/DisabilityLit" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>DisabilityLit</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "The Delivery" by Margarita García Robayo, translated from Spanish into English by Megan McDowell</p><p>A book that follows an unlikable character who's cut contact with her family long ago, except for her sister. Begrudgingly she keeps up with superficial biweekly calls and receiving bothersome care packages. Until one day a massive, suspicious package shows up.</p><p>This book didn't do it for me. The writing was compelling, but everything else left me unmoved. No plot, no real character development, very little conflict... It's a bit Kafka-esque, but not enough to truly intrigue me.</p><p>Sometimes literary fiction sprinkles in some genre classics, and they seem new and impressive within the literary fiction sphere. But, if you indulge in that other particular genre in any way, it may seem predictable or cliché. I think this is one of those cases. If you're familiar with psychological horror, be it books or games or something else, maybe this book is kind of lackluster for you too.</p><p>This novel reminded me often of Pink Slime by Fernanda Trías, but with less worldbuilding and less interesting strained relationships. Maybe you'd enjoy it if you're specifically looking for books about difficult mother-daughter relationships, but I think I'd still rather point someone in the direction of Pink Slime.</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "De brievenwinkel van Seoul" by Seungyeon Baek, translated from Korean into Dutch by Teun Meeuwsen</p><p>Available in English in 2026 as "The Seoul Letter Shop".</p><p>I picked this up in the library because of its pretty cover. Oh, I thought, nevermind, it's cozy fiction, I probably won't like it. <br>"No, I'm not!" the book declared, "I'm healing fiction and that's something different!" <br>I debated putting the book back. You know what, I thought, I can take it home and see whether I like it or not. Maybe it's different this time. Maybe I'll like Korean cozy fiction, when it's not all about cats and libraries and restaurants.<br>"I'll say it once more, I'm healing fiction!" the book was yelling by this point, but since it was already disappearing into my book bag, it all sounded muffled to me. </p><p>I finished this book. It was fine. After a family conflict, the protagonist gives up on her dream of becoming a filmmaker to start working in a stationary shop with a penpal system. There she meets all kinds of nice customers with their own troubles. Reading their letters was enjoyable enough.</p><p>Everyone is kind and supportive. The main character gets a really good salary, way above minimum wage. Her boss is great. Her landlord is lovely. Everyone's dreams come true, conflicts get resolved, difficulties are easily overcome. I look at a live feed of Israel attacking Iran and I think: why am I reading this book? Am I healing? No, I just feel hollow.</p><p>I keep trying to find reads that will comfort me, and then I get upset that they're superficial and fake to me. Then I get sad that a story about problems easily disappearing and people being really nice sounds incredibly unrealistic in this world.</p><p>I don't understand why so many of these cozy/healing works are about stores. Working with customers sucks. They're rude and impatient. Customer service is never wholesome. I used to work in a second-hand shop and I got yelled at every workday for a minimum wage. My family member worked in several bookshops for over a decade and was miserable. Horrible customers, exploitative bosses, low wages, manual labor, employment contracts with unfair conditions, theft, robbery -I feel alone instead of comforted when all of these things about store life magically disappear in a book, instead of them being actually dealt with in a manner that could be comforting, relatable or empowering. Are these tales just fantasies for people higher up the career ladder, dreaming of a simpler (fake) life?</p><p>I'm glad healing and cozy fiction can bring others comfort, but by now I know that these books are not for me, so why do I keep trying? I'm telling myself to stop. Again. Even if the cover is pretty, don't do it, me!</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "A House in Norway" by Vigdis Hjorth, translated from Norwegian into English by Charlotte Barslund</p><p>I initially picked this book up because I read that the protagonist is a textile/fibre artist. I went in for the craft, but I remained for one of the best character studies of an extremely unlikable 'progressive' landlord ever.</p><p>I'm sure somehow Hjorth has developed a tiny machine that can track thoughts and she planted it on a real person, then polished up the recordings and put it into this book. </p><p>Alma, the Norwegian main character, loves seeing herself as a Good Person™ who works on art about Very Important social topics like democracy. Meanwhile she rents out part of her house to a Polish family of migrant workers and lets her anxiety drag her down into more and more racist thoughts and exploitative behavior. Despite it being from her point of view, as the reader you'll understand very well what her renters are going through. Shockingly we don't even learn one of their names until about 2/3 into the novel.</p><p>As a renter I have my fair share of landlord trauma and this book was certainly stressful. Yet I couldn't stop reading. It was a car wreck I couldn't look away from.</p><p>When I tried to look up whether more of the author's books have been translated, I stumbled upon an article about one of her books being autofiction about her abusive family and her being no contact with them. I'm sure you can guess what my next read of hers will be.</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/books" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>books</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/bookstodon" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>bookstodon</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "Over de berekening van ruimte IV" by Solvej Balle, translated from Danish into Dutch by Adriaan van der Hoeven & Edith Koenders</p><p>This will be available later in 2025 in English as "On the Calculation of Volume IV". </p><p>No! Solvej Balle is the lord of cliffhangers and I'm dangling! </p><p>The first 50 pages or so, I thought this was going to be the first book in the series that I wouldn't like that much. I was wrong. Reading on, eventually it came to a point where I liked this volume the most so far. More answers, but also more new questions.</p><p>The Dutch translation of part 5 will be released in July, so if you see someone on hands and knees begging for it in a library purchase request next month, it's probably me.</p><p>I can't wait for other language regions to catch up, I want to read more people's reactions!</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/SpecFic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>SpecFic</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WasSartreRightOrNot" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WasSartreRightOrNot</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "Station Tokio Ueno" by Yū Miri, translated from Japanese into Dutch by Geert van Bremen</p><p>Available in English as "Tokyo Ueno Station".</p><p>This is quite a difficult but certainly interesting novel about a lot -more than can be easily summarized. Poverty, homelessness, migrant workers, Japanese history and culture, mourning, ageing, cultural differences, regions with a difference in prosperity, recovery from disasters and even more.</p><p>I think you really need to be in the mood to read it and lock in, because (at least for me) it is quite challenging. It's somewhat disjointed and the past and presence sometimes almost seem to blur. You'd best discover it for yourself.</p><p>Some of the translation choices were very noticeable and I kind of fell into a rabbit hole of looking things up about it. I found a podcast episode with <span class="h-card" translate="no"><a href="https://sunny.garden/@mollymay5000" class="u-url mention" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">@<span>mollymay5000</span></a></span> (cool!) about the English translation, which was fascinating to listen to. Then I found a Dutch podcast about the Dutch translation with the translator, which was a good listen too.</p><p>I found it very interesting to see where the English and Dutch translations did the same thing, like no explicit dialect. But even more interesting were all of the differences between them. Auditory messages (tv, radio) were in italics in Dutch, which is not uncommon. The time jumps were not explicitly divided with lines or anything else, but remained the same.</p><p>The whole thing that started this search were the onomatopoeias. If Dutch had a very obvious equivalent, the Dutch onomatopoeia was used. But if it did not, it simply used romaji (I assume) -something I have never seen before. I just had to add a picture of the train noise (for you, Taylor, haha) especially after I heard that in English those lines have been removed! Unfortunately onomatopoeias weren't discussed in the podcast, so I remain in the dark about it. No Dutch-reader would be able to guess these sounds without the context of the surrounding text.</p><p>It was also striking to hear that Dutch publishers weren't interested in this title and that translation pitches had failed multiple times. Once the English translation won an award, suddenly there was an interest and the Dutch translation was supported. True, I don't think there will be many mainstream readers on a hunt for this title, and publishers want profitable projects, but it feels sad to miss out on any potential translation projects just because their sales are expected to be low.</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "Alle geliefden van de nacht" by Mieko Kawakami, translated from Japanese into Dutch by Maria Smolders</p><p>Available in English as "All The Lovers In The Night".</p><p>I used to read everything Haruki Murakami when I was a teenager. I thought his books were so magical. Then I slowly got more and more disillusioned with -I'm sure you guessed it- the way he writes women. Often they're not real people, they're one-dimensional entities to drive the plot forward, to create sex scenes or to add some quirk where necessary. Eventually I stopped reading him altogether. </p><p>Reading this book, I somehow felt like I was reading Murakami again, but in a good way. I'm not sure why, because the styles are different, but it was as if a female character that made an appearance in Murakami's books had checked out, went home to this novel and was finally able to be a full human being.*</p><p>I liked this book, but it's really sad. We follow a 30-something woman in her day to day life, working, getting by. Besides the main character, there are several more women in the story. They have all made different life choices, yet they all seem isolated and sad, limited by their surroundings and judged by others. Maybe you could call the ending bittersweet, it depends on how you look at it.</p><p>I've never seen any content warning about this book anywhere, so I'll go a little into it here. If you don't want any spoilers whatsoever, please skip this paragraph, goodbye! I wish I had known beforehand that there'd be a detailed rape scene halfway through the book. It's incredibly upsetting and goes on for several pages. I was nauseous reading it. I don't think it's gratuitous at all. It adds to the book and you understand the protagonist better afterwards. But it's very hard to read, so please be prepared.</p><p>If you feel like we're all little islands floating about in life unable to connect and create meaning, you'll probably either like this book or hate it for worsening any depressive feelings. I'm still unsure myself. I'll probably pick up other books from the author, though.</p><p>* Wondering if anyone felt the same, I tried looking it up online and fell straight into a Mieko-Kawakami-Haruki-Murakami-rabbit hole. Apparently Murakami claims to never read any new authors, but he does read Kawakami and loves her. I saw that Kawakami wrote an article about Murakami's female characters, with a little bit of critique, but praise too. Then I stumbled upon an interview with Murakami by Kawakami, where she tries to ask critical questions about the women in his books. It was somewhat disappointing. I thought she went too easy on him, and I thought he came across as very naïve (hasn't he heard it all a million times before and thus thought more deeply about it?). But, after all that, I guess you can sense some link or inspiration between the two in some literary works (or I'm just imagining things haha).</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📘 "De laatste kinderen van Tokyo" by Yōko Tawada, translated from Japanese into Dutch by Luk Van Haute</p><p>Available in English as "The Last Children of Tokyo" or "The Emissary".</p><p>Ah, this book... Lots of feelings. Definitely positive ones. For me, it taps into these times so well, I thought about a lot. Bear with me for a second while I get rambly.</p><p>I'm in my early 30s. While I was in primary school, 9/11 happened and most of life was about learning to understand hostile international politics, terrorism and the end of privacy. When I was in high school, the financial crisis of 2008 hit and shit hit the fan. As a young adult, life was dictated by severe austerity measures and loss. Since then, I have been observing natural disasters, wars, genocides, pandemics. I'm very privileged in my position in life, but I can't say that life in general is looking good.</p><p>This all is accompanied by tragic behavior of people of retirement age. And no, I don't want to support generations fighting with each other, and I know hashtag not all boomers, other generations suck too, yada yada, all people can be suffering till their last breath, and we should unite and fight the system together -I still believe that. But many of these people in my life were able to get higher wages, buy houses, pay for children, retire at 60 or earlier, use social safety nets and spend time on expensive treats like holidays abroad. Meanwhile I'm not getting beyond minimum wage and dreaming of a secure roof over my head is really only that: a dream. A decent quality of life in the future seems like a dream too, with all of the pollution and climate change.</p><p>What really ignites the flames of bitterness is the majority of 60+ year-old people voting right-wing and actively participating in destroying society. Openly supporting lower minimum wages. Declining green reforms. Removing governmental support systems like accessible healthcare. Refusing to share their wealth. Never acknowledging the struggles of younger generations. The world is dying and they want to complain to me about the food on the plane they took on their 3rd holiday of the year while I'm stressfully counting coins to pay for another medicine that has once again gotten more expensive. Please. Can you for one second care about the world you're leaving behind? At this point I'm literally begging more than sarcastically asking.</p><p>In this book, the world is dying too. Humans too. But not the elderly, they seem to have become immortal. Yet, younger generations get weaker and die, and their children become even more sickly and die even earlier, and then their children too, on it goes. Until what? Is it fun, for these elderly, to keep chugging on with their silly stuff, all alone, on barren land, reaping what they sowed?</p><p>In the novel we follow Yoshiro, in his 100s already, taking care of his very weak great-grandchild, Mumei. He's kind, humble and accommodating. He desperately wants better circumstances for the child, but is unable to change the world. Instead he tries to give Mumei daily comforts as much as possible. But through tiny cracks we also see that maybe he wasn't always so caring, that maybe he was more self-absorbed and judgmental when he was still a regular, young elderly in the old days.</p><p>The world is interesting, but we only get to learn about it in snippets. There's extreme isolationism going on. Human industry of the past appears to have done a lot of damage. It looks like climate collapse has happened. You even start to wonder if atomic bombs have fallen.</p><p>The character of Mumei made me think of 'I Who Have Never Known Men' and other books like it. Never having known another world, he just lives, even when people who've known otherwise complain and mourn. He suffers, yes, but it is what it is, and he's still curious and enjoying what's there. On one side I live for such tales and characters, they motivate me to adapt and keep going. On the other side, looking at him through the eyes of someone who knew a better life, it's sad that this is it. All that young children will ever know, is this. Do I embrace the joy of living in a world that's merely different, maybe not worse, despite its limits, or the sadness of not even knowing the extent of those limits? A bit of both?</p><p>Will the people who've lived at least double the amount of decades that I have, become more understanding like Yoshiro? Or won't they without the threat of having to live long enough to see the consequences of how they've shaped the world? Does it even still matter?</p><p>Either way, as you can see, this book has been living rent free in my head. The language is very pleasant, with unexpected descriptions, comparisons and wordplays. The different perspectives flow into each other comfortably. The ending lights up a candle, suddenly illuminating things that you've read earlier in the story and adding meaning to them, which I love. I've been sleeping on Yōko Tawada!</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/SpecFic" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>SpecFic</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a></p>
Reading Recluse<p>📗 "Geloven in het wild" by Nastassja Martin, translated from French into Dutch by Peter Bergsma</p><p>Available in English as "In the Eye of the Wild".</p><p>Well, the Dutch cover really didn't shy away from the topic... This is a memoir from an anthropologist who was travelling the Kamchatka Peninsula when she was attacked by a bear. Her head was mauled and it's miraculous that she survived, especially being far away, isolated in nature.</p><p>In this book she mostly focuses on what the bear attack means to her, and to the people of the region. It's a little bit stream of consciousness -she goes into oral histories, beliefs and legends as she's trying to recover and give meaning to this event that divided her life into a before and after.</p><p>Part of this book is also a medical memoir: first in intensive care in Russia, later in repeat treatments back in France. Anyone familiar with hospitals will be able to at least recognize part of the abuse and bitterness that too often go alongside treatment. However, I was also frustrated by the author's attitude a lot. She ridicules masks, refuses to isolate when necessary, demands to walk when using a wheelchair would be a better option, etc. She's like the tv show cliché: 'I refuse to be ill!' while pulling out the IV tubes and storming out on sheer willpower. It started to come across frustratingly ableist. The way medical personnel treated her (badly) and worsened the trauma didn't help the situation much either.</p><p>Either way, it was an interesting read. And besides the point of the book but worthy of mention: looking up the Kamchatka Peninsula in google maps is a lot of fun. There are many blue dots where you can switch to google street view, but they're mostly pictures from explorers. You can see mountains, volcanoes, glaciers, forests, rivers, a lake full of bears, snow landscapes and more. It has occupied me for quite a few hours, it's so beautiful!</p><p><a href="https://c.im/tags/AmReading" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>AmReading</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/memoir" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>memoir</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/WomenInTranslation" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>WomenInTranslation</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/DisabilityLit" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>DisabilityLit</span></a> <a href="https://c.im/tags/books" class="mention hashtag" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#<span>books</span></a></p>
TrendingLive feeds
Mastodon is the best way to keep up with what's happening.
Follow anyone across the fediverse and see it all in chronological order. No algorithms, ads, or clickbait in sight.
Create accountLoginDrag & drop to upload