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Thursday, April 30, 2015

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, the weather is getting extremely and unbearably hot (for those of us in the Northern Hemisphere)... must be time to announce Women in Translation Month, 2015 Edition! 

Like last year, WITMonth 2015 (still #WITMonth for those following on Twitter, mostly because it seems easier) will be taking place in August.  This gives us three full months to prepare. 

This year's goals:

Last year I noted that while it was incredible to see so many reviews, the books were largely very popular recent releases.  I proposed - and now make official - a trickier challenge: reading older titles and less-known gems.  I've been compiling (and will soon publish) a list of potential titles (with publications from the 11th century and on!),  and definitely encourage readers to explore some of these older titles a bit more.  The challenge will be to read books written before 1960.  Obviously these will be harder to track down and likely not to everyone's taste.  If this challenge isn't to your taste, feel free simply to focus on women writers in translation. 

Another one of my personal goals last year was to broaden my general horizons.  While I try to maintain diversity in my reading overall (so that I'm not simply reading books from France or Scandinavia), there are areas in which I could be doing better.  As with last year, I strongly encourage readers to look beyond Europe.  More so, I found it extremely difficult last year to locate titles by queer women writers in translation.  My hope is to find a few titles/authors to showcase this year, though at this stage it's unclear which books precisely this will be.  I'm open to suggestions. 

Like last year, this is a very, very open challenge.  The idea is not to force yourself to read books you're not interested in, rather it's to give voice to so many women writers who perhaps get lost in the male-dominated field.  Explore and experiment, read and delight.  If you find yourself struggling with the challenges... don't do them.  If you find yourself too busy to read any books by women writers in translation... it's fine, just join the discussion.  This is a no-pressure event. 

Finally: The final 2014 Women in Translation Tally will be published in the coming days.  I've spent a lot longer on it this year for a number of reasons which will be mapped out in the post itself, but suffice to say that despite growing interest in reading more women writers, there's still a long way to go in terms of the actual publication statistics.  And this is the reason I find WITMonth to be so important: while of course we ought to be reading women writers in translation throughout the year, the difficulty in finding many of these titles is genuine, as is the general lack of availability.  As long as such a striking imbalance exists, I will continue to encourage readers to take up this mantle every August.  If only for a month to raise awareness and foster a discussion.  And read lots of excellent literature, of course. 

Sunday, April 19, 2015

The Nun - Simonetta Agnello Hornby
This is a weird novel to review.  Simonetta Agnello Hornby's The Nun (tr.  Antony Shugaar) is an odd, somewhat imbalanced, generally entertaining novel that disappointed me somewhat in its ending and in little failures throughout.  The writing was solid and the main character Agata was extraordinarily alive, but there was something... off about the book. 

First of all, I'll note that in terms of basic readability, The Nun passes: the moment Agata is so sympathetic (despite... not actually being a sympathetic) is the moment the reader remains hooked.  Because The Nun is a novel that very much tells of Agata's growth (or lack thereof), her rebellion and struggles and traumas and dreams.  Agata is interesting largely because she's complex: her initial dreams are sweetly young, but there's a bitter aftertaste of her persistent stubbornness, even in areas where she could have perhaps acted differently (especially later in the book, where her motives dissolve into a strange mess of "why is this happening?").The Nun is all about Agata: forced into a convent by her mother in a bizarre game of politics and personal spite.  Both of these factors come into play throughout the book: Agata is constantly seeking approval from her mother (despite recognizing her spite), and constantly stumbling through the political mechanics of the period.  The politics frame the story interestingly, but never quite pan out, and I often found myself baffled by the lightness with which Agnello Hornby treated many of these issues (that is: she did not develop them nearly enough). 

Finally, the book has a series of love stories at its heart.  Truthfully, none of these stories particularly worked for me, and I would have been happier with a technically "colder" book, but with the same sharpness of mind that Agata was given.  Oh well. 

Sky Burial - Xinran
So... Sky Burial (tr.  Julia Lovell) is just a weird book.  There's a level on which I absolutely understand the mass appeal (touching story, foreigner's view of a different culture, sparse language), but I also could not (could not) reconcile the genres.  Was the nonfiction?  Fiction?  Fictionalized reality?  Something else entirely?! 

The story is ostensibly that of a young Chinese woman who goes to find her husband, presumed dead in Tibet.  What follows is her journey through Tibet as she searches for him, getting lost multiple times and finding home with different nomads.  As befits this premise, the ending is uplifting (sort of?),  inspiring (ish) and meant to convey a powerful statement about love (yeah, actually). 

If I sound deeply cynical, it's because I am.  The story reminded me of a lot of survival stories I read as a child (specifically, Julie of the Wolves, and I'll explain further in a moment), with the same sort of saccharine appreciation of the exotic culture our narrator is suddenly cast into.  As a novel of Tibet, I found myself less enlightened than confused, often wishing I had a more direct (and firsthand) narration of the experience.  Xinran is writing for our narrator, who is elderly and I seriously doubt was able to remember so many extremely specific details (hence my skepticism as regards the definition of this as "fiction" versus "non"), and herself relaying a lot of secondhand information.  My head hurt from all the retellings. 

So why the cynicism?  Ultimately, Tibetan culture is expounded upon just as much as wolf behavior was in Julie of the Wolves.  Our narrator is still "The Human" and has a purpose in life that is completely separate from the "Other" nomadic group "The Human" is traveling with.  It felt... wrong.  Less believable, less representative. 

I should point out that the book is still very interesting and informative, even if largely through native Chinese eyes.  It's a fairly quick read, and probably a fair starting point for literature about Tibet (I hesitate to call it "Tibetan literature" for the obvious reasons).  It's not exactly a bad book, but its memory faded somewhat unpleasantly in mind in the weeks after reading it.