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From the category archives:
At Home in the World
These days, it’s no secret that translated literature gets short shrift. It has become a well-known fact that just three percent (or less) of all literature published in the United States is translated from another language. These days, too, its hardly less well-known that many publishers and book pages still shy away from translated lit for fear that the taint of a foreign language will chase away coveted consumers.
Still, translation is in a much better place now than even ten years ago. Thanks to the work of some inspired publishers and advocates, the worth of translated lit—and our gross negligence in not publishing more of it—is becoming better known. We’re even getting a certain amount of access to some of the best contemporary writing the world outside the United States has to offer.
So far we’ve come, yet still so far to go. We have the Tolstoys, yes, we even have the Murakamis, but there is so much classic and contemporary literature still out there that has never been published in English—never ever. So, to acknowledge all that’s out there, to inspire readers to thirst for more literature not originally written in English, and to do a service for those publishers in search of the next great translated book, we offer this collection of recommendations.
We’ve talked to some of the top translators into English working today; we’ve talked to publishers big and small; we’ve talked to agents, journalists, and foreign-language authors. We’ve asked them all for the best books that still aren’t in English. And have they responded. They’ve told us TRANSLATE THIS BOOK!, and now we pass that on to you.
Just as I was starting to come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never finish my “lifetime reading list” within the allotted time, along comes The Quarterly Conversation with a reminder that there are whole worlds of literature yet untranslated into the world’s de facto lingua franca [Latin was my only "foreign" language in high school].
Although there is a lot of wonderful writing in English from India, there is a rich literary tradition in Bengali that remains untranslated. As I’m unlikely to pick up a thorough knowledge of that language over the next few decades, I’d like to read more in translation.
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via hinduonnet.com
Photographer Preston Merchant has been traveling the world documenting the global diaspora of people from India. Indo-Carribean “Chutney Soca” music, South African “bunny chow,” Manhattan Bhangra nights, and more.
The resulting book (forthcoming) should be fascinating.
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Some lovely moments… captured in Mumbai I think?
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We were the only people in the dark, musty, maze-like museum in a quiet part of Vienna, a long trolley ride from the city center. We weren’t prepared for what we were about to see. Yellowed skulls, medieval torture devices, bloody gloves, newspaper depictions of murder, death masks, rusty axes…
Welcome to the Kriminalmuseum.
It is one of many fascinating places visited by the crew from Curious Expeditions, a blog “devoted to unearthing and documenting the wondrous, the macabre, and the obscure from around the globe.” They have brough to light some bizarre and beautiful things from natural history collections, forgotten museums, and whole fields of “antique science.” Newly redesigned, the site is definitely worth visiting and revisiting.
Join the curious expedition via RSS; flickr; Twitter.
[This is the first of a weekly selection of "Interesting Blogs" at The Occasional -Andrew]
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A pastoral HD stroll in the mountains of Switzerland and Italy (near Luino). I like how both humans and nature are rendered beautifully.
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Opening in New York this weekend, an absorbing documentary following Bela Fleck on a journey tracing the roots of the banjo in Africa. The film is an understated take on a really impressive musical collaboration between Fleck and some great musicians in Uganda, Tanzania, Gambia and Mali.
Throw Down Your Heart (Trailer) from Josh Kletzkin on Vimeo.
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Al Mutanabi Street, Baghdad, February 2009
Named for a revered poet, Baghdad’s Al Mutanabi Street had been a sanctuary for books and writers through decades of tyranny and war. Two years ago, insurgents attacked this bookish enclave with a devastating car bombing. It was an especially heart-breaking moment in one of the darkest phases of the Iraq War.
But now, as security has improved, after a long, halting struggle, there is once again life on the street. The New York Times‘ indispensable Baghdad bureau covered the official “reopening” of the book market in December of last year. A number of the booksellers and their shops are gone forever, but there is once again a place for browsing, drinking tea, smoking, and arguing in Baghdad. This photo essay from the Sacramento Bee documents the state of things now.
It’s a bit like watching the first shoots of spring flowers emerging. There’s been so much destruction and fear, one can only hope–for all our sakes–that a gentle place like a bookshop can grow and flourish in Iraq. It seems surreal, but maybe some day there will be more tourists like this guy walking the street.
But unspeakable violence is never far away in Iraq, and it sounds like some of the worst elements may be attempting to regroup as American power and attention begins to drift away. Are the forces of peace and renewal strong enough now?
I haven’t found an organization that accepts donations directed to Mutanabi Street [suggestions welcome!], but the new university in Kurdistan is in need of books.
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Nandan Nilekani inspired Thomas Friedman‘s famous “flat world” buzzphrase with the simple observation that technology and globalization had opened doors to developing countries as never before. In a new book of his own, Nilekani, the co-founder of Infosys, outlines the cultural and political shifts underway (and still incomplete) in India. Here’s an interesting point from the book as summarized in a review in the Economist:
It is easy to forget that many Indians once viewed computers as “man-eating machines”, entrepreneurs as predators and the English language as a cause of “brain fag”. The country that feared a “population bomb” now celebrates its “demographic dividend”. These ideas took a circuitous route into favour. English, for example, was retained as a language of government and education, not because of its literary charms or commercial appeal, but because the southern states and the downtrodden castes hated Hindi more. [more here]
It is a fascinating story of unforeseen changes in ideas and institutions, and the next chapters in India’s history will no doubt hold many surprises too. There is nothing inevitable about economic growth, liberalization, and social change. But, with one of the few economies expected to grow in 2009, what happens to India is vitally important to the rest of the world–not to mention her own billion or so people.
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