Posts by Andriana Hamas

Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature

Bringing news from Argentina, Hong Kong, Bulgaria, and Sweden!

Book fairs, festivals, competitions, new publicationsthe literary world this week is filled with a flurry of events and announcements. From the ongoing debate between culture and commerce in Bueno Aires, to new releases from Hong Kong icons Dung Kai-Cheung and Xi Xi, to a celebration of poetry debuts in Haskovo, to a renewal of a beloved book festival in Karlskrona, the world of letters has no shortage of things to offer.

Josefina Massot, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Buenos Aires

In his opening speech at the 46th Buenos Aires International Book Fair, author Guillermo Saccomanno issued a complaint: “When we talk about a fair,” he declared, “we’re talking about commerce. This is a trade fair rather than a cultural one, even if it claims to be the latter. At any rate, it represents an understanding of culture as commerce.” What’s more, he added, the country’s dire economic situation does not bode well for the Spanish-speaking world’s largest industry event.

Saccomanno was both right and wrong: right that the Fair’s pursuits are largely commercial, wrong that they’d be somewhat of a bust this time around. Perhaps to make up for two years of pandemic torpor, over 1.3 million visitors crowded La Rural’s sprawling halls in just under three weeks, from April 28 to May 16—a 30% increase relative to pre-pandemic figures. Sales, too, went up by about 10-20%.

In addition to bestselling genre sensations (American John Katsenbach among them), the Fair featured critically acclaimed writers from over forty countries. Stand-outs included Peruvian Nobel Prize winner Mario Vargas Llosa, Chileans Diamela Eltit and Paulina Flores, Spaniard Jorge Carrión, and locals Mariana Enriquez, Selva Almada, and Guillermo Martínez. There were over 1,500 book stands on display, helmed by everything from multimedia conglomerates to artisanal press co-ops, as well as over 1,000 programmed events that spanned readings, conferences, panels, book signings, and courses for every taste and age group.

It would be impossible, given this near embarrassment of riches, to mention just one or two based on quality alone. I’ll appeal to our journal’s métier, then, and focus on a few events related to the art (and, yes, the commerce) of translation. READ MORE…

Spring 2022: Highlights from the Team

Still don’t know where to start with our latest edition? Here are some more entry points, courtesy of our generous multicontinental team!

I felt that the Spring Asymptote was an incredibly timely and unsettling issue and I hope that broader readers can use it as a lens to think about ongoing dynamics of imperialism, capitalism, and more. I was drawn immediately to Kim Hyesoon’s poems from The Hell of That Star (tr. Cindy Juyoung Ok), with its overwhelming and abundant female presence that kept mutating. In Signe Gjessing’s poems from Tractatus (tr. Denise Newman), I really enjoyed the tension between the abstract and the material—for example, the fact that shampoo is able to exist alongside transcendence. The voice of Nina Yargekov’s “The Obedient Little Girl” (tr. Charles Lee) was immediately disarming! I was delighted by the emphasis on disobedience at the end. Last but not least, I enjoyed reading Agnieszka Taborska’s The World Has Gone Mad: A Surrealist Handbook How to Survive (tr. Soren Gauger). Leonora Carrington is my favorite artist and writer (I actually have a tattoo of one of her paintings); it was exciting to see her mentioned at the conclusion. I also enjoyed the automatic writing components. This is a text I do need to spend more time with and I am so glad that it was included in this issue.

—AM Ringwalt, Educational Arm Assistant

I have a love for Nordic literature in general, there is something about its directness and its simplicity, and yet at the same time its ability to confront existential issues through the details of the everyday. As I live in Sweden and yet am not Swedish, I see literature as a way into understanding the place and society where I am. I was struck by how so many of the pieces in the Swedish special feature confronted the deep hypocrisy that is there in Sweden’s self-presentation as a tolerant, progressive, consensual, and equal society: The uncovering of misogyny and violence against women in the Kristina Lugn (tr. Zach Maher), Lina Hagelbäck (tr. Freke Räihä) and Hanna Nordenhök (tr. Saskia Vogel) (there is a reason that the original Swedish title of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo was Män som hatar kvinnor [Men Who Hate Women]); or history of institutionalized homophobia in the Jonas Gardell (tr. Elizabeth Clark Wessel); and racism in the Majgull Axelsson (tr. Kathy Saranpa). These all show that there is something deeply troubling in the supposedly comfortable Swedish society that people here live in. And yet, for all this social awareness, these texts are not themselves sanctimonious or worthy. There is a distinct existential edge in each of them, they show how these social issues penetrate deep down into the world of the characters affected by them. Oppression is not an accident or mistake that can be simply rectified or remedied, it is a constitutive fact of the world as it exists and is revealed and experienced: violence, oppression, and torment penetrate and persist right through the world, into each blade of grass, bunch of flowers, childhood memory, or everyday action, and all this writing captures something of that pain and its penetration. This is the world. And it needs to be shown and seen again, recognized for what it is, as it is in this writing; and through the seeing again that this writing provides, it can also be recreated as other than it is.

—Liam Sprod, Copy Editor

Andrii Krasnyashchikh’s As Bombs Fall (tr. Matthew Hyde) made me cry. This account of daily life in Kharkiv made me think of my grandmother living in Rome under Nazi occupation—the immediacy of daily life while the world crumbles around you. Accounts such as this allow us a window into the individual human impact of war that newspaper reportage does not. Johannes Lilleøre’s My Sick Friend (tr. Sharon E. Rhodes) read like prose poetry. I love the way it plays with time: we move through a life, and then once illness strikes, time slows down. The taut, matter-of-fact sentences, with their seemingly throwaway observations and details, evoke not just the immediacy created by bodily illness and suffering, but also convey the pain and helplessness of the narrator. Kate Tsurkan’s interview with Zenia Tompkins discusses so many vital questions, for example: what responsibility do we children of the diaspora have to our homelands? How much is our image of homeland shaped by the trauma of our parents and grandparents?

—Amaryllis Gacioppo, Newsletter Editor

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A Thousand Lives: Staff Reads from Around the World

A selection of staff reads from Asymptote’s Fortnightly Airmail!

Recently, our staff has been revisiting modernizations of canonical works. Our editors recommend their latest favorite reads from Vietnam and Japan, including a collection of poems meditating on the Vietnam War and a Japanese essay on aesthetics. Sign up for our newsletter to get these recommendations delivered right to your inbox.

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In May of 1966, Thích Nhất Hạnh, 39 years old and not yet famous, arrived in Nyack, New York, at the invitation of the Fellowship of Reconciliation (FOR)—an American peace organization—to lecture on the escalating Vietnam crisis. He then traveled to Washington, D.C., and throughout the continental U.S., to present a Buddhist-led peace proposal that called for a cease-fire with the North Vietnamese government, followed by humanitarian assistance from the U.S. toward a peaceful reconstruction of Vietnam. Thích Nhất Hạnh’s 1966 peace tour included readings of his folk poetry, which he also translated into English, to portray the raw feelings of Vietnamese who “[could not] speak for themselves; [did not] know or care much about words like communism or democracy but [wanted] above all for the war to end….”  The poems were subsequently published in a chapbook entitled Thơ Vit Nam (Vietnamese Poetry), by Unicorn Press, Santa Barbara, California. Three of them, “Condemnation”, “Our Green Garden”, and “Peace”, also appeared in the June 9, 1966 issue of the New York Review of Books. Visceral and intimate, Thích Nhất Hạnh’s poems define the Vietnam War as a civil war. Beyond the Cold War context, all warring nations are seen as misguided brothers. Thích Nhất Hạnh’s peace sojourn was denounced by his brethren on both sides of the Vietnam conflict and turned what he thought was a three-month journey into a 40-year exile. He was eventually allowed to return to Vietnam and passed away on January 22, 2022, a month before Russia invaded Ukraine.

Thuy Dinh, Editor-at-Large for the Vietnamese Diaspora READ MORE…

A Thousand Lives: Staff Reads from Around the World

Because, as Emily Dickinson once said, "There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands away."

Tired of doomscrolling? We think you’d like these staff recommendations—hailing from the UK, India, and Turkey. Sign up for our newsletter to get these recommendations delivered right to your inbox.

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Like so many of us in this pandemic, my reading has turned to sci-fi and magical realism. When our world is wedged between the hybrid machination of zoom and an increasingly taxing everyday life, fantasy provides an escape into a world of pleasure. Perhaps no one has done this as masterfully as British author, Susanna Clarke, in her recent fantasy novel Piranesi. Set in a disenchanted world of The House, Piranesi, a futuristic scribe of sorts records his everyday life in an infinite universe consisting of severed statues, columns and fringe pockets of water. His universe is awfully lonely, yet he finds a way to narrate it with an uncanny curiosity. He has an endearing voice, which he often uses to enchant the only other member he interacts with, a dapper and sordid gentleman by the name of “The Other.” Together they enter a surreal journey searching for “Great and Secret Knowledge,” encountering the most mundane of objects along the way. Though The Other is not able to value this world in the same way Piranesi does, the latter often lends him his eyes to make him understand. The beauty of Clarke’s writing is not its construction of a highly centralized and systemized future universe, rather its focus on collapse and the journey that lurks between empty halls. I hope you give it a chance and let Piranesi guide your night.

MK Harb, Editor-at-Large for Lebanon

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Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature

Literary awards, bookstore revivals, and political upheavals from Sweden, Bulgaria, and Gaza!

This week, our editors bring news of a major literature prize in Sweden, disturbing governmental policies repressing freedom of speech in Bulgaria, and the rebirth of a central bookstore in Gaza. Read on to find out more!

Eva Wissting, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Sweden

The Nordic Council has announced the nominees of its annual Literature Prize, which has awarded a work of fiction in a Nordic language­­­ since 1962. The languages include Swedish, Danish, Norwegian, Finnish, Icelandic, Greenlandic, Faroese, and Sámi. The literary works considered may be novels, plays, essays, short stories, or poetry of artistic and literary quality. The purpose of the award is to create interest in the literatures and languages within the cultural community of the Nordic region. This year, eleven nominated writers represent all the countries and languages of the region, and four of the works are novels written in Swedish.

Kerstin Ekman is one of Sweden’s most acclaimed writers, with a long list of publications since her debut in 1959. In 1994, she was awarded the Nordic Council Literature Prize for the novel Blackwater, available in English translation by Joan Tate. This year, she is nominated for The Wolf Run, a novel about a man in his seventies and his relationship to nature as he comes to terms with his life. The other Swedish nominee is Jesper Larsson, for Den dagen den sorgen (literally translated as That Day That Sorrow, or also as “we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it”), about a single father and his relationship to his teenage daughter. Finnish writer Kaj Korkea-aho, nominated for Röda rummet, also writes in Swedish, and so does Ålandic writer Karin Erlandsson, who is nominated for the novel Hem. The winner will be announced on November 1, during the Nordic Council’s Session in Helsinki. Previous winners include the internationally renowned Sofi Oksanen (Dog Park, Purge, When the Doves Disappeared), Jon Fosse (The Other Name, Trilogy, Morning and Evening), and Nobel Prize laureate Tomas Tranströmer.

More financial support to Swedish writers is on the way in the form of a crisis package. Because of the consequences of the pandemic faced by many writers during the past two years, the Swedish Authors’s Fund has received thirty million SEK from the government. The organization has now decided that around 1,500 writers and literary creators who were previously granted scholarships will each receive an additional amount of approximately twenty thousand SEK.

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Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature

Ecopoetry and code-breaking are capturing readers around the world in this week's dispatches.

In this week’s dispatches, Bulgarian readers brave the winter for an event highlighting environmental literature, Sweden commemorates the beloved children’s book author, Astrid Lindgren, and Italy celebrates what would have been Umberto Eco’s 90th birthday with a new publication. Read on to find out more!

Andriana Hamas, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Bulgaria

Believe it or not—it is already February, and despite the cold weather in Bulgaria, various cultural events are popping up here and there. With an ever-increasing focus on climate change and the dire consequences we are already facing, different local artists are attempting to highlight the need for conscious, collective action.

One of the strategies employed to combat phenomena such as global warming constitutes the recycling of different materials. Interestingly enough, the whole concept also happens to be at the heart of literary critic and professor of literary theory Amelia Licheva’s latest poetry collection, The Need for Recycling, which considers the act through the prism of creative impulses and intuitive journeys through one’s feelings and experiences. The book, officially published by Lexicon Publishing House on Christmas Eve, 2021, also contains illustrations by the painter Veselin Pramatarov. In an interview for the Bulgarian National Radio, Licheva revealed that the title could be interpreted as “the search for lost meaning.” She is fully aware that the formula is far from light, but insists that the initial shock—bound to rock the reader’s inner world—is in fact a sought-after provocation of sorts.

The launch of the book, which took place not long ago at Sofia City Library, was attended by over fifty people eager to hear the poetess’s newest verses. The lively discussion was hosted by the prominent writer Georgi Gospodinov (whose works have previously appeared in Asymptote) and translator Daria Karapetkova, with the actress Snezhina Petrova was in charge of recitation. After the long-anticipated premiere, the author used her social media profile to extend her gratitude to “all of my colleagues, friends, and students who attended the debut of my poetry collection. Thank you for the solidarity and for the unique privilege to be able to feel like a part of a meaningful community.”

Eva Wissting, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Sweden

A week ago today, on January 28, Sweden commemorated twenty years since the country’s most internationally known writer, Astrid Lindgren, passed away at the age of ninety-four. The creator of strong, ingenious, and unforgettable children’s book characters like Pippi Longstocking, Karlsson on the Roof, Ronja the Robber’s Daughter, and Lotta on Troublemaker Street, Lindgren has enthralled and inspired readers around the world for generations. Her books have been translated into 107 languages, including numerous translations into English by Joan Tate—who also has translated other significant Swedish writers like Ingmar Bergman, Kerstin Ekman, and P.C. Jersild. Lindgren has been awarded both national and international literary awards, as well as received honorary degrees from Linköping University in Sweden, the University of Leicester in the UK, and the University of Warsaw in Poland. On the year of her passing, the Swedish government instituted the Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award (ALMA), which awards a writer, illustrator, or promoter of reading in March every year. During her lifetime, Lindgren not only wrote for and about children, but she was also an activist for children’s rights––which is why the Astrid Lindgren estate today, together with Save the Children, continues to work on the Pippi of Today campaign for refugee girls. READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature

The latest from Mexico, Bulgaria, Belgium, and Romania!

Though Asymptote is winding down with the year, literary events and going-ons continue to thrive around the globe. In Mexico, the Guadalajara International Book Fair presents its impressive line-up, and Polish female poets are celebrated in a new collection. In Bulgaria, the Christmas Book Fair returns to delight the locals. and in Romania, the Gaudeamus Book Fair features over one hundred exciting events. Read on to find out more!

Alan Mendoza Sosa, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Mexico

On December 10, Mexican editor, poet, and translator Isabel Zapata presented Dentro del bosque, an English-Spanish translation of the autobiographical essay Into the Woods by American author Emily Gould. The essay reflects on contemporary capitalist precarity through Gould’s personal experience as a young woman trying to make a living as a writer in New York City. Originally published in 2014, its translation into Spanish is part of the Editor’s Collection from Gris Tormenta, an independent publisher based in Querétaro, a rapidly growing state three hours north of Mexico City. Gris Tormenta has published several Asymptote contributors in the past, including Yuri Herrera, Tedi López Mills, and Thomas Bernhard.

On December 4, Mexican poet Rocío Cerón and Polish poet Marta Eloy Cichocka presented Luz que fue sombra, a Polish-Spanish bilingual collection of seventeen Polish female poets born between 1963 and 1981, translated by Abel Murcia and Gerardo Beltrán. The book was published in the Spanish independent press Vaso Roto, which has published Spanish translations of important authors such as Anne Carson, John Ashbery, and Ocean Vuong. It includes poems by Justyna Bargielska, Barbara Klicka, Krystyna Dąbrowska, and Urszula Zajączkowska. Julia Fiedorczuk, whose book Oxygen was reviewed for Asymptote by Elisa González, is one of the most renowned authors in the collection. The event took place in Talleres de Arte Contemporáneo (TACO), a cultural centre south of Mexico City dedicated to promoting and teaching contemporary art.

The 35th edition of the Guadalajara International Book Fair took place in Guadalajara, one of Mexico’s largest cities, between November 27 and December 5. It is considered one of the most important book festivals in Latin America. This year, the guest of honor was Peru, from where several important authors and artists travelled to Mexico to present their work, lead workshops, and host panels. Among them was Asymptote contributor Victoria Guerrero. Importantly, the events featuring Peru offered significant representation of literature written in indigenous languages, including books by Dina Ananco Ahuananchi, Gabriel Pacheco, Cha’ska Ninawaman, and Washington Córdova. The fair also featured both emerging and established authors from all over the world. Many of them have previously appeared in Asymptote, such as Ana Luísa Amaral, Georgi Gospodinov, Abdellah Taïa, Marieke Lucas Rijneveld, and Alejandro Zambra.

Andriana Hamas, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Bulgaria

Bulgaria has, for a long time now, been in the grips of mass paranoia, an all-encompassing misinformation campaign, and political turmoil. The health situation also not looking up; according to official statistics, the COVID-19 deaths are, sadly, approaching the chilling number of 30 000 since the beginning of the pandemic—a figure that definitely cannot be trivialised given the overall population. READ MORE…

Afternoons—A Case Study: On Teodora Lalova’s Afternoons like these

Lalova’s poetry confirms that regardless of the Other’s differences, we could always try and reach them by explaining . . . the unfamiliar details.

Afternoons like these by Teodora Lalova, translated from the Bulgarian by Jason H. Spinks, Kalin Petkov, and Gabriela Manova, Ars and Scribens Publishing, 2021

The Bulgarian author Georgi Gospodinov writes in one of his books that “August is the afternoon of the year.” With this subtle line, he takes his rightful place next to other insatiable thinkers who have dwelled on the special character of this particular time of day, either attempting a convincing explanation for its beguiling qualities or giving up once and for all their efforts to figure it out. So, even if we choose to ignore the all too famous quote by Henry James about the aesthetic pleasure he derives from the phrase “summer afternoon,” we should at least pay attention to what Jorge Luis Borges had to say on the matter. In one of his short stories, “The End,” he notes that “There is an hour of the afternoon when the plain is on the verge of saying something. It never says it, or perhaps it says it infinitely, or perhaps we do not understand it, or we understand it and it is as untranslatable as music.”

While I was reading Teodora Lalova’s debut collection of poems, united under the title Afternoons like these, I similarly found myself on the brink of grasping a curious feeling, too elusive for me to fully comprehend. From my perspective, the text appeared to be very close to capturing that crucial essence of the hours preceding twilight that so often escapes our miserable efforts to express it in words. Each poem, as is to be expected, achieves this in its own way. Some prefer the ironic twist of fate, while others choose to shed light on the more delicate nuances of existence. There is also a third kind that tackles complex philosophical questions in an “unbearably light” manner. Nevertheless, once the piece has located the throbbing heart of the unique afternoon, it offers a single or several lines that are certain to remain with the reader:

On afternoons like these I want to write poems about the smell of chimney smoke,
about the unread books and about first loves.
Of course, on afternoons like these
I don’t have my notebook with me.

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Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature

The latest news from Bulgaria and Hong Kong!

This week we bring you news from Bulgaria and Hong Kong! In Bulgaria, Andriana Hamas recalls the brilliant life of poet and journalist Marin Bodakov, a significant contributor to Bulgarian letters, after his sudden death; Jacqueline Leung highlights the long-awaited return of the Hong Kong International Literary Festival and new book releases centered on personal and social struggles in Hong Kong. Read on to find out more!

Andriana Hamas, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Bulgaria

These past few weeks in Bulgaria have been marked by the sudden demise of the poet, literary critic, and journalist Marin Bodakov at age fifty. Born on April 28, 1971, in the picturesque city of Veliko Tarnovo, Bodakov studied Bulgarian Philology at Sofia University “St. Kliment Ohridski,” where he eventually earned his Ph.D. with a dissertation entitled “Policies of presentation of Bulgarian literature in the print media of the 1990s. Problems of Critical Autoreflection.” Moreover, he was an assistant professor at the Press Journalism Department, as well as a passionate advocate of the path towards a meaningful academic career. His talents were versatile, spanning such different spheres that it comes as no surprise that he also managed to maintain the weekly column, Ходене по буквите (Walking through the letters), published by the renowned Kultura newspaper. His original texts highlighting the best of both local and world literature would come out, without fail, even after the editorial team of Kultura dissolved and reunited shortly afterward as K Weekly. In recent years, Bodakov found a suitable writing platform in the independent outlet, Toest.

His first poetry collection, Девство (Virginhood), was followed by seven others, the latest published in 2018. Another prominent work he authored was Преведе от . . . (Translated from the original . . .), an enchanting volume that comprises of conversations with several Bulgarian translators. The interviews provide an invaluable glimpse into the profession and its “invisibility.” They equip the reader with a better understanding of the social and cultural trends that often play a decisive role by steering the literary scene in unforeseen directions. A year after the book was published, Bodakov received the Knight of the Book Award, granted to journalists and other prominent personalities who have contributed to the publication and promotion of books in Bulgaria.

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A Thousand Lives: Staff Reads from Around the World

A selection of staff reads from Asymptote’s Fortnightly Airmail!

When it comes to browsing the shelves and diving head-first into the wonderfully vast world of translated literature, sometimes you just need a little help from your friends. In this caselet us be your friends. Our editors are sharing their favourite reads to make sure that yours is time well spent.

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Readers already familiar with Nina Berberova’s fiction in collections such as Billancourt TalesThe Tattered Cloak and The Ladies from St. Petersburg will find her first novel—translated by Marian Schwartz—a surprising divergence in style from the lightness of touch and sparse but pungent details in her stories about small casts of characters grappling with challenges in their everyday lives. Written in 1928-29, The Last and the First (Pushkin Press, 2021) is a drama on a broader canvas about Russian émigrés in France struggling to decide whether to return to the Soviet Union or to throw all their energies into establishing a meaningful life in France, specifically whether to join Ilya, the messianic central character, toiling on the land in Provence. It is driven by a complex plot in which the true identities and motives of some characters are initially hidden, and stylistically has more in common with novels of the nineteenth century, Dostoevsky being the writer who springs most to mind for the intense and knotted emotional relationships between the main characters, their striving for some kind of salvation, as well as in the vivid and grimy descriptions of the backstreets of Paris.

—Janet Phillips, Assistant Managing Editor (Issue Production)

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A tale of two lives, that of a poetess living in the USA and of a Yazidi who saves the women of Sinjar, unfolds through a series of phone calls and a single face-to-face visit. In her pensive The Beekeeper of Sinjar (New Directions, 2018), masterfully translated from the Arabic by Max Weiss, the Iraqi-born Dunya Mikhail recalls her conversations with Abdullah, an ordinary man turned local hero, who has chosen to devote his days and nights to rescuing the innocent girls kidnapped by the militant group Daesh. Simultaneously a meditation on absurdity and a truthful account of real-life experiences, the book offers its readers a path to understanding the shifting values of a region long tormented by its past. The unimaginable loss and heartbreak that pour from every page are curiously accompanied by an almost inhuman ability to forgive, while the deceptively simple descriptions of misery bring home the scale of the disaster. Despite the traumatic events, however, the locals have managed to retain their purity and, what is more, to find time for the poetry of existence. As we all should.

Andriana Hamas, Editor-at-Large for Bulgaria READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature

The latest in literary news from Vietnam, Bulgaria, and Taiwan!

As Venice makes its cinema showcase and the MET spreads its red carpets for the lavishly dressed, literature also serves up September as a memorable month with plenty of international displays and showcases of both known favorites and new releases. This week, a vital Vietnamese poet is commemorated in film, a varied arts festival takes place on Bulgarian shores, and an eminent Taiwanese author makes his English-language debut. Read on to find out more!

Thuy Dinh, Editor-at-Large, reporting from the Vietnamese Diaspora

Each year, on September 16, the village of Tiên Điền, in the province of Hà Tĩnh, commemorates the death anniversary of Nguyễn Du (1765-1820), its venerated native son and author of The Tale of Kiu—a 3,254-line epic poem unequivocally embraced as the Vietnamese soul. This year, to mark the 201st year of his passing, the three-hour biopic Đi Thi Hào Nguyn Du (The Great Poet Nguyn Du) will make its premiere at the XXII National Film Festival in Hue, Central Vietnam. The film’s original September release—meant to coincide with Nguyễn Du’s death anniversary—has now been rescheduled to November 2021, due to safety concerns related to Vietnam’s recent surge of COVID cases.

The Tale of Kiu, created during a time of warring loyalties and written in the Nôm (Southern) script with Chinese characters modified to reflect Vietnamese spoken vernacular, has been endlessly adapted into ci lương (“reformed” Southern Vietnamese folk opera), chèo (Northern Vietnamese musical theatre), Western-styled opera, and films. Since the idea of trinh 貞 (chastity/integrity/ faithfulness) in Nguyễn Du’s oeuvre represents both a conceptual and linguistic challenge, its complexity has inspired at least six English translations in recent decades. Huỳnh Sanh Thông’s Nguyn Du, The Tale of Kieu–A Bilingual Edition (Yale University Press, 1983), while still considered the gold standard, employs unrhymed iambic pentameter that often lapses into wooden syntax. Vladislav Zhukov’s The Kim Vân Kiu of Nguyn Du (Cornell University Press, 2013), in grafting iambic pentameter to lc bát (six-eight syllable Vietnamese rhyme scheme), results in obtuse renderings reminiscent of Nabokov’s eccentric translation of Eugene Onegin. Most recently, Timothy Allen’s The Song of Kieu: A New Lament (Penguin, 2019), while ebullient with vivid syntax, contains numerous errors and self-indulgent interpretations.

Nguyễn Du’s mistrust of chastity goes hand in hand with his concept of exile; his heroine wanders far-flung places and learns to survive by endless transformations—also a recurring theme in Kiu Chinh: Ngh Sĩ Lưu Vong (Kiu Chinh: Artist in Exile) (Văn Học Press, 2021). Penned by veteran Vietnamese American actress Kiều Chinh, the memoir echoes Nguyễn Du’s art of story-telling “to beguile an hour or two of your long night.”[i] The Joy Luck Club actress—whose dramatic flight to freedom is recounted in Viet Thanh Nguyen’s The Sympathizer—will embark on a September-November book tour to Vietnamese diasporic communities in the U.S., sharing chapters from her own life that reflect the larger history of Vietnam.

[i]Huỳnh Sanh Thông’s English translation, The Tale of Kiều, line 3254, p. 167.

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Personal History and Italian History Intertwine in The Year of Our Love

[Bonvicini] gradually expands the world surrounding the most intimate human emotions, then reminds the reader of inevitably missed opportunities.

The Year of Our Love by Caterina Bonvicini, translated from the Italian by Antony Shugaar, Other Press, 2021

“Life is a combination of magic and pasta,” the celebrated Italian filmmaker Federico Fellini once observed, and who can know this better than the boot-shaped Repubblica famous for an inimitable cuisine that has influenced the course of humanity? It doesn’t come as a surprise that The Year of Our Love was at least partly inspired, as explained in the author’s note, by a local osteria (a simple or inexpensive restaurant) and tales told over aromatic wine and a hot bowl of spaghetti.

Born in the picturesque city of Florence in 1974, the writer Caterina Bonvicini holds a degree in modern literature from the University of Bologna and has written more than ten novels, some of which have won prestigious prizes, among them Premio Frignano in Italy and the Grand Prix de l’Héroïne Madame Figaro in France. Critics often highlight the way her texts expose the bourgeois lifestyle, while placing women, with their conflicting worldviews, internal dilemmas, and well-hidden feelings, at the center of the story.

The facts of her life reveal similarities between Bonvicini and the novel’s protagonists. The journey starts in 1979, only five years after she was born, at the height of the so-called Years of Lead, when Italy is locked in the firm grip of warring right- and left-wing factions. The first pages are filled with markers of the recent past: terrorist attacks, including the infamous Italicus Express bombing; numerous brigades and gangs; brutal kidnappings. Immersed in a world of turbulent clashes and savage confrontations, we meet Valerio Carnevale and Olivia Morganti—raised together even though their families are separated by a social divide that could hardly be bridged under ordinary circumstances. The passing seasons of childhood in the Emilia-Romagna region, home to the picturesque Bologna and the place where Valerio eventually studies to become a magistrate, overflow with stories about guns, hiding places, and bodyguards, exquisitely recounted by the girl’s grandmother, Manon, whose notions about beauty and truth exert a great influence on the children. But after Valerio’s mother begins an affair with a handsome swindler, the family is forced to move to one of Rome’s least prestigious neighborhoods, and the interaction between the two changes profoundly. Finally, it comes to a halt. READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches from the Front Lines of World Literature

Find out what’s been happing in the literary scenes of Bulgaria, Sweden, and Hong Kong!

Lazy to shake the white fan, nude in green woods . . .” The languorous summer words of Li Bai are perhaps demonstrative of these mild months, but even a writer too lethargic to fan himself is still scrawling poems. The pen never rests, as proved by a bounty of literary news from Bulgaria, Sweden, and Hong Kong this week, as our editors report on book fairs, awards, and festivals. Read on to find out more!

Andriana Hamas, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Bulgaria

It is a truth universally acknowledged that books—with their magical power to still the world and inspire us in previously unimaginable ways—can transform the course of human lives for good, and this seems especially obvious when it comes down to interpersonal relationships, especially the queen of them all—love. The recently organized Bulgarian literary festival Пловдив чете (Plovdiv reads) demonstrated that by uniting fiction and the deep appreciation of others, resulting in a happy collaboration.

On the last day of the tightly packed program, which included an afternoon poetry reading under the blooming linden trees by the up-and-coming authors Aleksandar Gabrovski, Dimitar Ganev, Gabriela Manova, and Liliya Yovnova, a rather nervous young man from the public stood up and, under everyone’s curious gaze, asked his speechless girlfriend for her hand in marriage. Once it was established that a “happily ever after” was soon to follow, the audience was assured that the world would continue to spin—possibly in patterns that, more often than not, rhyme.

Hosts of this particular occasion were one of the country’s best-renowned writers Georgi Gospodinov (whose verse is available in Asymptote’s pages!) and the talented poet, essayist, and screenwriter Ivan Landzhev. Both shared their fascinating insights into the qualities required of a helpful editor, the art of mentoring gifted adolescents without erasing their unique personalities, as well as the importance of authors reading each other. Another point that was touched upon was the ability to trace foreign influences in one’s works.

Alas, for even more thrilling discussions of this sort, we’ll have to wait until the 2022 edition. Until then, however, let us enjoy the rest of what global literature has to offer!

Eva Wissting, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Sweden

This month, Swedish writers Elin Anna Labba and Alma Thörn have been awarded the Norrlands litteraturpris—a literary prize of northern Sweden. The prize has been given annually since 1973 by a literary association of the region, Norrländska litteratursällskapet, along with the region’s writers’ organization, Författarcentrum Norr. Since 2014, there have been two categories: adult literature and children’s literature. For this year’s edition of the adult category, Swedish Sámi journalist and writer Elin Anna Labba was awarded for her nonfiction book Herrarna satte oss hit: Om tvångsförflyttningarna i Sverige (Sirdolaččat: The Deportation of the Northern Sámi). The jury’s statement pointed to how Labba has woven a literary fabric—oral testimonies, archived documents, yoiks, maps, and photographs that highlight the state abuse and colonial exercise of authority previously made invisible in Nordic history, and calls her book a hybrid that reveals the possibilities of literature. In the children’s book category, Alma Thörn is awarded for the graphic novel Alltid hejdå (Always Goodbye). Thörn’s book is about divorce from a child’s perspective, which the jury deemed “a visually and emotionally strong story.”

Another recent book that calls attention to serious issues is Dansa med corona (Dance with Corona) by the staff of the care home Östergård 2 in Kristianstad. Last year, media frequently wrote about the place, which was one of the first care homes in southern Sweden to be struck by COVID-19. Now, the staff are sharing their own experiences through the recent publication: “Your children beg you to stay home from work because they believe you will die if you go there. Media depict you as the executioner and your friends flee when they see you. At the same time, the elderly need you at work to survive.” The book gives precious insight into the life of the caretakers during extreme times, with guilt and fear as only a couple of the challenges they have had to manage.

Charlie Ng, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Hong Kong

Having been suspended due to the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, the Hong Kong Book Fair returns this year with the theme “Inspirational and Motivational Reading,” running from June 14 to 20 at the Hong Kong Convention and Exhibition Centre in Wan Chai. Besides collaborating with numerous publishers to showcase new books in Chinese and English, the organizer also invited famous local and international writers to participate in talks and workshops, including Neil Gaiman and Julia Lovell. However, with the introduction of the national security law, Hong Kong’s publishing sector is overcast by the anxiety over tightened freedom of speech and expression. As reported by the Hong Kong Free Press, the Hong Kong Trade Development Council announced that police would be notified should they receive complaints on exhibits that breach the national security law. This warning is among a series of censoring actions taken against oppositional voices, including the forced closure of the Apple Daily newspaper and the removal of some political books from public libraries.

Despite the tense political situation in Hong Kong, Hong Kong literature is varied enough to represent Hong Kong in different ways. In a recent interview published by Words without Borders, Louise Law, the director of Spicy Fish Cultural Production Limited and publisher of the local literary magazine Fleurs des Lettres, speaks to translator Jennifer Feeley on Hong Kong’s literary scene and the translation of Hong Kong literature. Feeley is a major translator of the works of Xi Xi, and her translation, Not Written Words: Selected Poetry of Xi Xi, was a prizewinning collection. Zolima CityMag’s recent Hong Kong’s Great Writers series also highlights Xi Xi as their second feature. The article introduces Xi Xi’s literary life and explores the playfulness in her characters as well as her literary style.

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Read more on the Asymptote blog:

All Literature Is Worth Investigating: An Interview with Translator Stefan Rusinov

All cultures are exciting, both for their achievements and failures, for their beauty and nastiness.

In 1999, almost 170 years after his birth, Bulgaria honored publisher Hristo G. Danov’s legacy by establishing national literary awards in his name. In 2021, Stefan Rusinov, a translator who isn’t afraid to ask the important questions about the essence of his trade, won Best Fiction Translator for multiple books he had worked on over the course of twenty-four months. In addition to these admirable recent endeavors in Chinese prose, he juggles his work at Sofia University and his tasks as a freelance interpreter. Our conversation highlights his current projects, the importance of honest answers, and the value of simply “hanging out” with writers.

Andriana Hamas (AH): I would like to begin by asking you about your Бележка под линия (Footnote) podcast, thanks to which you meet fellow translators and discuss “behind-the-scenes torments,” the decisions they eventually have to make, and their inevitable missteps or failures. What have you learned so far?

Stefan Rusinov (SR): I’ve learned a lot, which was really the selfish reason to start this project to begin with. Private conversations with other translators and several years of translating gradually made me realize how case-specific this activity is and that mastery comes rather from accumulating solved problems than from learning universal principles (not to underestimate translation theory). That’s why I wanted to create a space where we won’t so much muse over the nature of translation and other such abstract questions, but we would dig into the specifics, where translators would be put in the position of explaining their considerations and decisions to someone who doesn’t know their working language. Nine episodes on, I’m even more certain that discussing actual problems encountered by translators from all kinds of languages is an important way to understand this activity (and also a major way to pump up my own translation skills).

I’ve learned, or rather, I’ve confirmed, that uncertainty is part of the game, and it should be. I find it very hard to trust a confident translator. There are tons of problems we need to solve and tons of decisions we need to make and, to borrow Wolfgang Iser’s idea of interpretation, the mere existence of these cases means that we are bound to create a gap between the original and the translation. So, in a way, we are bad translators by default.

I also learned that in French unfuckable means “incomprehensible.” READ MORE…