Posts by Alton Melvar M Dapanas

Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature

The latest literary news from France, China, and the Philippines!

This week, our editors report on the cancellation of a controversial comics festival in France; the Arabic-language launch of an important literary account of Spanish colonization; and the awardees from one of China’s most prestigious prizes in children’s literature. Read on to find out more!

Kathryn Raver, Assistant Managing Editor, reporting from France

The fifty-third annual Angoulême International Comics Festival—a renowned celebration of comics and graphic novels slated to take place January 29 – February 1, and which I have written about for Asymptote twice in the past—has been cancelled for 2026. Save for one cancellation due to the COVID-19 pandemic, this is the first time in the festival’s history that it will not be taking place.

The festival’s organizers, a group called 9e Art+, announced the news in early December, asserting that this cancellation is due to lack of funding. However, authors and contributors—including Anouk Ricard, the winner of the festival’s grand prix last year—have been raising calls to boycott the festival for the past few months following multiple ignored sexual assault cases, un-transparent business practices, and commercial excess. Over four hundred authors called for a boycott in April of 2025, and multiple others have joined the call in the time since. READ MORE…

The Four Colours of Blood: An Interview with Norah Alkharashi and Yasmine Haj on the Arabic Poetry of Love and War

The more we bridge our languages, the more effective our collective resistance can be.

In Arabic, the word for ‘love’ (حب) is nearly identical to the word for ‘war’ (حرب), differing by just one letter. The nearness and linguistic kinship between these two words is a felicitous metaphor for the tropes examined in the poetry anthology Arabic, between Love and War, published by Tkaronto, Canada-based trace press.

Arabic, Between Love and War assembles important voices from across the Arabophone world, such as Nour Balousha of Palestine, Najlaa Osman Eltom of Sudan, Rana Issa of Lebanon, Qasim Saudi of Iraq, as well as diasporic Arab poets in Canada, the United Kingdom, Sweden, and the United States. Edited by Palestinian poet Yasmine Haj and Saudi translator-scholar Norah Alkharashi, the anthology features poems translated from Arabic into English and vice versa, a number of which have garnered accolades such as the Lambda Literary Award, Atheer Poetry Prize, Arab American Book Award, and appeared in poetry collections published in Damascus, Beirut, Juba, California, Basrah, Algiers, and beyond.

In this interview, I spoke with both Haj (in Paris, France) and Alkharashi (in Ottawa, Canada) about the anthology and the ways in which the poetry of love and poetry of war converge.

Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): Congratulations to both of you on this riveting anthology, Arabic, between Love and War! How did this book come to be, and how is it particularly relevant and urgent today?

Yasmine Haj (YH): Thank you, Sam. This book is the epilogue to a workshop organised by trace press, ‘translating [x]’, in which Norah and I co-facilitated six online sessions on literary translation from Arabic. As we structured the workshop, we were drawn to the aesthetic of the words love and war in Arabic, and how the removal of one letter throws one word into its apparent opposite. We discussed the idea with the participants, some of which mentioned how tired they were of our world being discussed through the prism of war. This was in late 2022, early 2023, before Zionism heightened its genocide of Gaza and any reminder of indigeneity. We had no idea we would be editing this volume, with all its submissions, as we watched Palestine oscillate between those very two words, and other genocided lands fluctuate right along with it. Love of land, of people, and war waged upon that very existence, have been ongoing for more than a century, adding to the six hundred years of imperial annihilation and substitution. READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

Literary updates from the Philippines, Bulgaria, and India!

This week, our Editors-at-Large report on the latest in literary news from the Philippines, Bulgaria, and India. From an open submission call for Filipino literature in translation, to a controversial AI-focused poetry competition in Bulgaria and a series of award-winning Indian titles, read on to learn more.

Alton Melvar M Dapanas, Editor-at-Large, reporting from the Philippines

Kritika Kultura, a scholarly journal of literary, language, and cultural studies published semi-annually by Ateneo de Manila University is now welcoming submissions for a Special Literary Section on Filipino Literature in Translation. Placing particular emphasis on literary translations from nearly two hundred Philippine languages into English, this special literary section will cast a critical light on the often-unseen compromises and negotiations involved in bringing these works to the Anglosphere.

Guest-edited by translator, poet, and scholar Dr Christian Jil Benitez, the folio seeks to offer more than translation. ‘The special literary section aims to show the variety of ways translators from Philippine languages mediate Filipino literature with the Anglophone world linguistically, culturally, and even institutionally,’ he said.

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To Become an Afterlife: An Interview with Christian Jil Benitez on Filipino Literature in Translation

After all, with all the languages and cultures of the country, one can only speak of the ‘Philippine’ in partials. . .

Named Poet of the Year in 2018 by the Komisyon sa Wikang Filipino (Commission on the Filipino Language), Christian Jil Benitez is a queer Filipino poet, scholar, and translator. His debut book, Isang Dalumat ng Panahon (A Theory of Time, 2022), was awarded the Best Book of Literary Criticism and Cultural Studies at the National Book Awards in the Philippines, substantiating his important work in codifying the cultural formation of ‘Filipino time’ via the material, the poetic, and the tropical, in addition to finding an equilibrium between Western critical theory and indigenous epistemologies.

Beyond his scholarship, from positioning the bugtong (or the Tagalog riddle) as ecopoetry to recasting vernacular oral traditions as matrices of queer world-making, Benitez’s translations maintain that their critical role is not merely linguistic, but also results in a creative rebirth, of ‘translation that acknowledges, and relishes even, the transfiguration of the material as it is carried over from one containing language to another’.

In this conversation, I spoke with Dr. Benitez, traversing Bangkok and Manila, about the pressures and prospects of translation in neocolonial, multilingual Philippines, as well as the ethics of barkadahan, especially when familiarity and friendship become central to the labour and logics of literary translation.

Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): Your debut, Isang Dalumat ng Panahon (A Theory of Time), excavates the construct of time through Philippine-language dictionaries, poetry, historico-colonial texts, metaphors, and indigenous orality, revealing it as ecological, discursive, and material. How does ‘Filipino time’, as you’ve theorised it, diverge from Western, capitalist temporality?

Christian Jil Benitez (CJB): We commonly use ‘Filipino time’ to refer to the tendency of Filipinos to be late: to start an event in ‘Filipino time’ means to actually start one hour after the initially agreed time. The term was supposedly coined by the Americans during their occupation in the country to shame Filipinos for this behavior, but this habit has also been observed in many Southeast Asian (as well as other non-Eurowestern) contexts, and can be understood as the persistence of polychronic sensibility in these cultures despite the imposition of Eurowestern, capitalist, and patriarchal monochronicity. READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

The latest from Spain, Romania, India, and the Philippines!

This week, our editors bring news of publications with big reputations, celebrations of nature writing in the Himalayas, and a new city joining the prestigious line-up of UNESCO Cities of Literature. Read on to find out more!

MARGENTO, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Spain

From November 5 through 11, the Romanian Language and Culture Center at the University of Granada, Spain hosted a series of events featuring the major voices and rising stars of contemporary Spanish poetry, some of whom included writers with Spanish-Romanian identities, connections, or collaborations. Amongst them, the prolific and multiply awarded Romanian-Spanish poet and painter Mariana Feride Moisoiu was given top-billing, and people crowded in for her reading-performance.

Feride Moisoiu is the founder of the international festival Mujer, Manantial de Vida (Woman, Source of Life), in addition to coordinating the festival Grito de Mujer (Woman’s Scream) in Villa del Prado, Madrid, which focuses on women’s voices, empowerment, and gender equality. She serves as the executive director of the literary magazine Krytón (also published in Villa del Prado), while also being the honorary president of the Casa Nacional de Rumanía (Romanian House/Institute) in Getafe. The event in Granada presented an opportunity for Feride Moiosiu to launch the latest issue of Krytón, coedited with poet Cristian Mihail Deac, which pays tribute to the journal’s founder, Cornel Drinovan. During her reading, the poet moved the audience through a serene and relentless, indomitable cadence, one that placed lyric femininity at the heart of a multifaceted—political, sentimental, and cosmic—vision. READ MORE…

Baptism by Fire: An Interview with Mayada Ibrahim on Arabophone Africa in Translation

I’m interested in Black subjectivity, in works that challenge and problematise the hegemony of Arabic. . .

The translations of Mayada Ibrahim are essential acts of cultural mediation. Moving between Arabic and English, she brings a nuanced, discerning sensitivity to champion voices from Arabophone Africa, from co-translating award-winning novels like Abdelaziz Baraka Sakin’s Samahani (Foundry Editions, 2024) to inaugurating the Anglophone debut of Najlaa Eltom. Rooted in her Sudanese heritage and diasporic experience, Ibrahim’s work has consistently centred Black subjectivity. In doing so, she has contributed to expanding the range of Arabic writings available in the Anglosphere, illustrating a resolute commitment to bringing the philosophical and political heft of voices like Eltom, Sakin, and Stella Gaitano to the forefront.

Ibrahim sees translation not as a duty to educate, but as a creative responsibility to honour the original text and its culture. ‘I try to resist the notion that educating the reader is my responsibility, as it’s harmful to treat readers as passive, disengaged consumers hungry for entertainment dressed up as instruction,’ she confesses. Thus, she navigates through difficult ethical terrains, from interpreting the Sufism in Eltom’s work for a Western gaze, to maintaining the sharp wit in Sakin’s narratives of enslavement. 

In this interview, I spoke with Ibrahim on her corpus as translator, the ethical tightrope of rendering politically charged texts for an Anglophone audience, and what she envisions for an Arabophone African literary canon.

Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): Trace Press is set to publish your book-length translation of prose and poetry by Sudanese translator and poet Najlaa Eltom. Could you tell us a little of how this book came to be? Is this selected from her earlier Arabic-language collections – منزلة الرمق (The Doctrine of Thinness, 2007), الجريمة الخالدة ذات الأقراط (The Immortal Felony with Earrings, 2019), and ألحان السرعة (Melodies of Speed, 2021)—or does it feature entirely new material?

Mayada Ibrahim (MI): In 2023, I took a free workshop offered by Trace Press, to which I brought one of Najlaa’s poems. The workshop later culminated in the anthology Arabic, between Love and War, published earlier this year, and in the process, I was fortunate enough to meet the publisher Nuzhat Abbas, who showed interest in Najlaa’s work. Later we decided to collaborate on Najlaa’s collection, her first into English, which will be the first part of an ‘active archive’ on Sudan. READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

Literary updates from the Philippines, Bulgaria, and Hong Kong!

This week, our Editors-at-Large take us around the world for the latest in literary news. From the efforts of Filipino literati for Palestine, to Bulgaria’s reckoning with the swiftly changing modern world and insightful essays and reviews on Hong Kong literature in translation, read on to learn more!

Alton Melvar M Dapanas, Editor-at-Large, Reporting from the Philippines

On 9 October, 2025, the feminist Filipino indie publisher Gantala Press debuted another monumental anthology at the Fine Arts Gallery of the University of the Philippines Diliman. The book, titled ‘Pagkat Tayo Man ay May Sampaga: New Philippine Writing and Translation for a Free Palestine, unites a vast range of voices in solidarity with Palestinian liberation.

The anthology was released by Gantala Press’s imprint, Publikasyong Iglap, which specialises in publishing timely literary works that address pressing ethnopolitical issues. It was co-edited by the press’ founder, Faye Cura, with Joi Barrios of the University of California Berkeley and UP Diliman professors, essayist Sarah Raymundo and fictionist-critic Rolando B. Tolentino.

‘Pagkat Tayo Man ay May Sampaga includes original writings from Filipino authors, including Luisa Igloria, the former Poet Laureate of Virginia, and Filipino-language translations of works by Palestinian writers such as the late Refaat Alareer and Fady Joudah. Alongside these new writings and translations, the anthology spans in-depth essays examining socially engaged writing, translation, and the anti-imperialist movement, supplemented by a practical teaching guide. READ MORE…

Stone that Treads on Stone: An Interview with Irizelma Robles and Roque Raquel Salas Rivera on Poetry as Alchemy

Myths give us some rituals, some explanations for life, ways of acting in this life.

Awarded the Pedro Lastra International Poetry Prize by the State University of New York at Stony Brook in 2019, Puerto Rican poet and essayist Irizelma Robles percolates ritualist practise, alchemy, and the occult into her scholarship and poetry. Her fourth poetry collection, El libro de los conjuros (Editorial Folium, 2018), embodies this fusion. The text has been translated into English by Puerto Rican poet and translator Roque Raquel Salas Rivera as The Book of Conjurations and was published by Sundial House last June 2024. In this spell book, Dr Robles writes about how “water will make way for the earth / that will listen” and “pieces of language / erased like mist,” summoning skies, substance, soul, and source. In his translator’s note, Dr Salas frames poetry as alchemy: “transmutation through words . . . transform[ing] poet, reader, and language.”

In this interview, I spoke with Dr Robles (in New York) and Dr Salas (in Puerto Rico), on El libro de los conjuros / The Book of Conjurations and the mutability of poetry through the lens of alchemy.

Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): Irizelma, your remarkable poetry collection from 2018, El libro de los conjuros, is now out in Roque Raquel Salas Rivera’s translation as The Book of Conjurations. Taking us back to that period and before, what were the creative impulses and poetic foundations that shaped this work?

Irizelma Robles (IR): Ten years before it was El libro de los conjuros, its title was La tabla periódica (The Periodic Table) and when I began writing it in 2016, it was titled El libro de la Santa Muerte (The Book of the Santa Muerte). I did fieldwork in the Huaxteca region of Veracruz and Hidalgo during my student years under the direction of my anthropology professor, Ana Bella Pérez Castro. It was during that period that I came across El libro de la Santa Muerte, a book of conjurations and spells. Later, in conversation with Eugenio Ballou, my friend and editor, we discovered that its true title was El libro de los conjuros.

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The Perennial Moon: An Interview with Li Zi Shu and YZ Chin on Mahua Fiction

Mahua writers. . . have eschewed the “pure” language passed down through the eons in favor of depicting reality on the ground. . .

Mahua literature, or Malaysian Chinese literature, emerged in the early twentieth century, drawing inspiration from the Wusi (May Fourth) Movement and reflecting on localised identities, questions of belonging, and negotiations of culture within plurilingual, multicultural Malaysia. Often subjected to nationalist policies that prioritise creative works in Malay, Mahua literature occupies a liminal space, overlooked by Malaysia, mainland China, and the larger Chinese-speaking world, yet resonant in its transnational and Sinophone dimensions, according to scholar Cheow Thia Chan in Malaysian Crossings (2023). Many Mahua authors write in conversational Chinese (Bai hua) embedded with atmospheric Malaysian locality. Called a “transperipheral” formation outside borders by Chan, it navigates a global marginality with a style that’s almost an anomaly—and rightfully so.

Among these Mahua voices, Li Zi Shu stands out as a representative figure, along with King Ban Hui, Li Tianbao, Zeng Linglong, Ho Sok Fong, and Ng Kim Chew. Born in Ipoh, Perak in Malaysia, Li Zi Shu worked as a schoolteacher, dishwasher, shoe store salesperson, and then a journalist before dedicating herself fully to writing short novels. Eventually, she began writing longer works, including her celebrated first full-length novel The Age of Goodbyes, published in its Chinese original in Taiwan in 2010 and in mainland China two years later. Chosen as one of the best novels by Asia Weekly in 2010 and China Times in 2011, the novel was translated into English by Louise Meriwether Prize-winning Malaysian fictionist YZ Chin for Feminist Press.

In this interview, I spoke with Li (in West Malaysia) and Chin (in New York) in a conversation that spans Li’s novels, especially The Age of Goodbyes, the diaspora of Mahua writers and Malaysian Chinese communities, and what it means to not belong.

Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): Zi Shu, your novel The Age of Goodbyes was described by Michael Berry in The Columbia Companion to Modern Chinese Literature (2016) as “not only a new take on Malaysian Chinatown life during the 1960s but also a fresh use of the Chinese language, tinged with a neoclassical style, and a complex metafictional narrative.” Could you share how this novel come together over time?

Li Zi Shu (LZS): The Age of Goodbyes was written before I turned forty. At that time, I felt a sense of urgency—I had been writing for over a decade, mostly short stories and flash fiction. I was eager to try my hand at a longer form, or rather, I truly wanted to craft something more “grand,” something that could be regarded as a “great” work. Looking back now, I realize that was a somewhat naive perspective, and perhaps a misunderstanding of what literature is. Over the years, I have developed a much greater appreciation for the subtle and the minute. Nonetheless, before I turned forty, I held high expectations for this long novel. I wanted to pour all my knowledge and ideas accumulated over the years into this one work. The use of a metafictional narrative was a deliberate “device,” partly because it allowed the novel to have more space—much like adding an attic or a cellar to a house, enabling multiple layers of storytelling to coexist. At that time, I was eager to demonstrate everything I could do with a novel within a single piece. The structural choice of metafiction was driven by that desire.

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Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

The latest from the Philippines, Italy, and Mexico!

This week, our editors report on a workshop centred around disaster writing in Mexico City; a literary festival with themes of urbanism, gentrification, personal history, and war narratives in Milan; and the passing of two groundbreaking translators in the Philippines. 

René Esaú Sánchez, Editor-at-Large, reporting for Mexico

I used to live with my mother in a small apartment in the eastern part of Mexico City. One day, my bed suddenly shook. I attributed it to a passing truck—but the movement started to feel suspiciously long and, when I realized what was happening, I grabbed Cookie, my dog, and ran out of the building. That day was September 19, 2017, when a 7.1 magnitude earthquake shook central Mexico, taking the lives of more than three hundred and sixty people, affecting over thirty thousand; it caused the collapse of thirty-eight buildings in the city, and damaged more than twelve thousand. Strangely enough, the earthquake struck on the same date as another historical quake in Mexico City thirty-two years prior, and, worse still, just a few hours after the ceremony commemorating the thousands who had died back then.

Writing from disaster is strange: it is an exercise in personal memory, in archiving, a hybrid between literature and journalism. What matters are the hours, the clothes you were wearing, what people told you, what you held in your hands. And precisely because this year marks forty years since the 1985 earthquake and eight since that of 2017, the Institute of Geophysics and Literatura UNAM—both institutions of the National Autonomous University of Mexico—have organized the workshop Zona de riesgo (“Risk Zone”), which seeks to recover, through creative writing and sound production, the collective memory of two of the most significant events in the country’s recent history. READ MORE…

A Marred and Martyred Language: An Interview with Ahmad Almallah on Writing from the Borderlands

For you to understand poetry, you must see the human action it reflects and the one that gave it form on the page.

Palestinian poet Ahmad Almallah’s second collection, Border Wisdomis a searing love song of longing, memory, and language. It is a heart-wrenching evocation of the poet’s mother, Nawal, and of the poet’s own identity, familial lineage, and their occupied homeland. Woven with epigraphs from Ahmad Shawqi and Emily Dickinson, the collection propels itself smoothly between English and Arabic with erasure poetry, Arabic khatt, shape-poems, and English prose that chart the poet’s topographies of Philadelphia, Beirut, Vermont, and Bethlehem, along with the reimagined terrain of his mother’s Amman and al-Khalil. 

Border Wisdom pulsates with the poet’s estrangements: from his home, from his father, from the contours of his own memory. And echoing through as though an aftershock is a disclosure from the book’s last few pages: “Dear reader, I’ve been pretending all along to have a second language. Actually/in reality/basically/essentially/ I don’t know anything in Arabic.” 

In this conversation, I spoke with Dr. Almallah about Border Wisdom, mistranslations, and his labyrinthine poetics of negotiation between Arabic and English.

Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): Your second poetry collection, Border Wisdom, was published by Winter Editions in 2023. How did the poems in this collection come together over time? And what has the experience of sharing this work with the world been like for you?

Ahmad Almallah (AA): The poems began to come together before and after my mother’s disappearance from this world. The world of borders did not allow me to be by her side in her final hours. It was in 2021; I was trying to be there for her but the Israeli Occupying Forces (IOF) launched a large operation to quell protests over kicking people out of their homes in Sheikh Jarrah, and Gaza ended up being hit the hardest as Israel was flexing its military power on innocent Palestinians as has been for seventy-seven years now.

At that point, I chose to leave the West Bank to be with my family in the US. A week after that I got news that my mother was no longer of the living. I was advised not to go back. I found myself flipping through the poems of Emily Dickinson and I happened on the line “there is a finished feeling at the grave.” It was then that I decided to go back to Palestine. The first thing that came to my mind when I walked into the room where my mother spent the final days of her life was that she was not dead. She had just disappeared. And the same thought stayed with me when I visited her grave. I wasn’t there to witness her body put in the ground. This is when I began to hold onto the idea of disappearance as an alternative to death. READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

The latest in literary updates from the Philippines, the United States, and Kenya!

This week, our Editors-at-Large bring us around the world for updates on the world’s literary scenes. From a celebration of Philippine literature in South Korea, to a night of poetry reading in the United States and the first Kenyan author to sit on the panel of judges for the International Booker Prize, read on to learn more!

Alton Melvar M Dapanas, Editor-at-Large, Reporting from the Philippines

For years, the depth of Philippine literature remained an unchartered territory for Korean readership. Now, a devoted cultural undertaking is bridging that gap, bringing the works of two celebrated Filipino writers­—National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin and award-winning novelist Mica De Leon—to bookshelves across South Korea.

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The Dust of Her Bones: An Interview with Inés Bellina, Alejandra C. Quintana Arocho, and Anne Freeland on Gabriela Mistral’s Queerness

[Mistral's] overlooked queerness speaks to the question: Who has access to the archive and who has the power to shape it?

In 1945, Gabriela Mistral shattered the Euro-American stronghold of the Nobel Prize in Literature, becoming the first Latin American laureate and the second from the Global Majority world since Rabindranath Tagore’s landmark win in 1913. Her award marked a cultural shift, amplifying voices beyond the confines of the North Atlantic canon—yet today, Mistral’s legacy remains an unresolved enigma: Was she a modernist, as her French translator Mathilde Pomès suggested, standing shoulder to shoulder with Nicaraguan poet Rubén Darío? Or was she a postmodernist like Delmira Agustini and Juana de Ibarbourou of Uruguay? Politically, too: was she an anarchist, Christian socialist democrat, or antifascist?

One aspect of Mistral’s life that remains clear, however, is her queerness. She spent her later years in New York with her partner, Doris Dana, an American children’s book author who translated some of her works and, after Mistral’s death, supervised her literary estate. Her sexuality is also affirmed by her contemporaries such as Alejandra Pizarnik and Pablo Neruda, and she even sometimes self-identified as a man in her own poetry. These complexities are further illuminated by a new centennial bilingual edition of Mistral’s Desolación (Sundial House, 2024), featuring translations by Inés Bellina, Alejandra C. Quintana Arocho, and Dr. Anne Freeland, along with thirty-seven poems translated by Langston Hughes, originally published in the 1957 collection, Selected Poems of Gabriela Mistral. 

In this interview, I spoke with Bellina, Quintana, and Dr. Freeland about Desolación, and the enduring queer legacy of Latin America’s first Nobel laureate.

Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): Congratulations to the three of you on the publication on Desolación! Could you share how this book came to be? Also, while working intimately with Mistral’s first poetry collection, how did the experience of translating her transform your appreciation of her as a poet, an educator, a thinker, and a woman of her time?

Alejandra C. Quintana Arocho (AQA): Thank you so much. It’s honestly still quite a surreal thing to process for me—the publication of this edition. Not just because of how incredible of an opportunity it is to have co-translated and become so acquainted with the work of the great poet that is Mistral, but also because of how much reading, editing, and sharing her words with others feels more like an ongoing process than the end result of our collaboration. This volume marks the first full English-language of her debut poetry collection Desolación in its 1922 edition, originally published at Columbia University’s Hispanic Institute and edited by its then-director Federico de Onís—but the rest of her full-length works (despite appearing excerpted in translations of select poems, such as in Ursula K. Le Guin’s and Randall Couch’s editions) remain unpublished in English. Translator and literary critic Anna Deeney Morales is at work on a translation of Tala (1938) and Anne Freeland is working on Mistral’s last book, Poema de Chile (published posthumously in 1967), but there is much work to be done in creating and sustaining new readerships for Mistral among Anglophone, Spanish-speaking, and bilingual audiences alike. In considering the potential for Mistral to be rigorously and lovingly (re)read a hundred years after Desolación’s publication, our editor Eunice Rodríguez Ferguson was the one who came up with the idea of collaborating with a group of translators on an English rendering of the book. READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

The latest from North Macedonia, the Philippines, and Greece.

In this week’s round-up of literary news, our editors bring news of resistance, commemoration, and solidarity. In North Macedonia, a powerful literary prize pushes back against repression by celebrating marginalised voices. In the Philippines, a local organisation is using independent publishing to express solidarity with Palestine and push back against the industrial market complex. In Greece, a new publication celebrates the brief life of a communist activist. Read on to find out more!

Sofija Popovska, Editor-at-Large, reporting from North Macedonia

Štefica Cvek, a regional literary contest open to Macedonian, Croatian, Serbian, Bosnian, and Montenegrin authors, recently announced the twenty-two titles of its 2025 longlist. Held for the fourth year in a row, the contest highlights the best books written from queer, feminist, decolonial, class-conscious, and ecology-minded perspectives. Akin to this year’s Budapest Pride march, which drew historic crowds despite governmental repression, the celebration of queerness at the core of the Štefica Cvek contest remains a controversial issue within the greater Macedonian cultural context.

Noting that Macedonian LGBTQ+ activists operate within “one of the most regressive anti-gay regimes in Europe,” the British human rights activist Peter Tatchell has praised them as “heroes and heroines.” Not only are same-sex marriages still unrecognized under Macedonian law, but queerness itself is actively demonized in both political and cultural spheres. As recently as February 2025, both the Macedonian government and its opposition have weaponized accusations of queerness to discredit their political rivals, and only a month prior, the Orthodox Church—with the endorsement of many prominent Macedonian politicians and writers—reviled gay marriage as “a violation of the holy will of God . . . and a prerequisite for the dissolution of the family.” READ MORE…