Posts by Samuel Miller

Building a home for world literature in Lisbon

Lovers of brick-and-mortar bookshops, you’ll want to visit this new home for world literature next time you're in Lisbon!

Regular Asymptote readers will no doubt be familiar with the difficulties involved in sourcing the translated literature we all love. Thanks to small print runs, limited editions, and the vagaries of the publishing industry, it can be all but impossible to find certain books if you don’t live in their country of publication. Since moving to Portugal 6 years ago, I’ve really struggled to get my hands on books in English, and it’s a feeling shared by many who live here. 

Lisbon and Porto have some wonderful bookshops, including Bertrand, the oldest in Europe, and Lello, often called the most beautiful bookstore in the world. But the selection of literature available in English is very small, typically the same few mass-market paperbacks and classics; and after Brexit, it became very difficult to even order English books through the mail.

Over the past few years, Portugal has also become home to a cosmopolitan mix of tourists, expats, immigrants, and refugees, with English becoming a lingua franca. And so, as the need arose, we assembled a like-minded team and got to work.

We designed Good Company to be a true home for curious readers, and our dream bookshop. Every book is chosen by our team to create a selection that represents our interests, tastes, and reading experience. And we are always available to give personal recommendations, or special order anything you can’t find in our regular catalog.

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With Good Company, we also wanted to bring the bookstore-as-a-third-space concept to Lisbon, creating a place for everyone to gather and meet, whether they are buying a book or not. Located in the elegant Avenidas Novas neighborhood, we’re building a community space full of beautiful books, comfy seating, great coffee, and event space that’s open for all to use. Every part of the bookstore was considered, and we have worked entirely with local artists and materials in its construction.

Even the design of the website was important. Having a beautiful and well-stocked online bookstore was always a priority for us, as we know how difficult it is to access independent literature and other English books in Europe, and how unpleasant most corporate sites can be.

We’ve tried to bring some of that bookstore magic to your screen. We hope you enjoy the little details, like how each book’s page is color-matched to better display the cover art, or our curated booklists, which range from our team’s personal favorites to recent prize winners, to highlighting the best Lusophone authors in translation. We’ve launched with over 3200 books in our catalog, and are adding more each week. 

Our online bookstore is live and currently shipping across Europe, and our physical store will be opening later this summer. Visit our website, browse our catalog, and if there’s any specific you’d like to order or you need a recommendation, just get in touch; we’d love to hear from you!

This is a sponsored post.

What’s New in Translation: November 2020

Our favorite selections for the month, featuring David Diop, Yi Lei, and Pergentino José!

There’s plenty to get excited about in the latest offerings from around the world, bound to satisfy the desires of any readerfrom the emotionally visceral, to the patiently curious, to the surreal and the hallucinatory. In scoping for the finest translations, we bring you reviews of anti-colonialist fiction by a Prix Goncourt des Lycéens winner, a new collection from a leading figure of contemporary Chinese poetics, and the first ever literary translation from the Sierra Zapotec into English by a thrilling new voice. 

at night

At Night All Blood Is Black by David Diop, translated from the French by Anna Moschovakis, Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2020

Review by Lindsay Semel, Assistant Managing Editor

David Diop’s brutal sophomore novel, At Night All Blood Is Black, translated elegantly by Anna Moschovakis, is a relentless indictment of the colonial power structure. Through the utter dissolution of the protagonist, Alfa Ndiaye, the novel demonstrates its ripples and rhizomes throughout society—from the individual to the geopolitical to the environmental—rotting away what does not serve it. Though heavy and dark from beginning to end, this is a highly specific, deftly illustrated, poetically rendered critique that justifies the emotional slog.

Alfa is a chocolat soldier, a Senegalese man who has voluntarily travelled to fight on the side of France in the first World War. During the ensuing battles, Mademba, his childhood friend and “more-than-brother” is disemboweled before his eyes by an enemy soldier. We meet Alfa shortly after he has watched Mademba die slowly, refusing his pleas for mercy. In these scenes of articulate gore and moral anguish, Moschovakis reveals her poetic side in the restraint and somber vivacity with which she renders Diop’s descriptions. Alfa then finds himself in the throes of both deep regret and liberation from the moral conventions which had prevented him from acting in Mademba’s best interest. “No voice rises in my head to forbid me: my ancestors’ voices and my parents’ voices all extinguished themselves the minute I conceived of doing what, finally, I did.” The horror of both bearing witness to and being complicit in the suffering of a loved one silences the voices of morality in his head and marks his entrance into a world of alternate, competing guiding forces: his own tortured impulses and the abstract interests of the narcissistic state. He begins performing solo operations late at night in no-man’s land, disemboweling enemy soldiers and keeping one hand and a weapon from each kill.

A progression that functions on multiple planes expands the novel upwards and outwards from where it remains firmly rooted—in viscera spilled. As time advances and settings shift, Alfa’s psychological state, the narrative mode, the realms of reality, the overarching value system, and the gender coding of these spaces evolve in conjunction. Generally speaking, the trajectory is from the concrete to the abstract, the sober to the unhinged, the current to the eternal, the “real” to the mythological, the individual to the collective, and the masculine to the feminine. Alfa remains our guide, however unreliable, through this uncertain terrain, until his psychological coherence evaporates entirely, leaving the reader stewed in his reflections and testimonies. READ MORE…

What’s New in Translation: May 2020

New work from Hye-Young Pyun, Keiichiro Hirano, Andrés Neuman, and Jazmina Barrera!

The best that literature has to offer us is not resolution, but that Barthian sentiment of recognition—the nakedly exact internal sentiment rescued from wordlessness and placed in a social reality. In this month’s selections of translated works, the authors confront a myriad of trials and ideas—despair, rage, guilt, purpose, obsolescence—with stories that attest equally to the universality of human feelings and the precise specificities of localities. Read reviews of four spectacular texts from Japan, Korea, Spain, and Mexico now:

law of lines

The Law of Lines by Hye-Young Pyun, translated from the Korean by Sora Kim-Russell, Arcade Publishing, 2020

Review by Marina Dora Martino, Assistant Editor

How does the world change us? Is it life and its unpredictable events that bend us; or is it something more fundamental, something that has always been hatching inside ourselves, ready to ripen at the right occasion? These questions act as the fundamental hinges of The Law of Lines, a novel written by South Korean author Hye-Young Pyun and translated by Sora Kim-Russell. Although ambitious and abstract, these existential questions acquire here a concrete form—they are investigated—not by philosophical or religious means—through the stories of two young women, Se-oh and Ki-jeong. Set in the vast South Korean suburban world, The Law of Lines travels through injustice, poverty, and grief, and exposes the thin threads that run between people who didn’t even know they were connected.

Ki-jeong is a teacher. She doesn’t like teaching—actually, she hates it. To get through her day, Ki-jeong transforms her life into a performance, and herself into a mere act of herself. Only in this way she manages, with varying degrees of success, to hide her frustration, her disengagement, and her lack of empathy for the people around her. Se-oh is a young woman who lives as a semi-recluse at her father’s house. She doesn’t go out because she fears the world, that churning machine that ruins and distorts everything. Ki-jeong and Se-oh don’t have dreams of a better life, or not exactly. They are dormant and static. But their stillness is not only a desire for tranquillity—it’s a method for concealment.

Soon, the world presents them with irreversible and unpredictable events, and their apparently quiet lives break irrevocably. In the middle of a stressful day at school, Ki-jeong receives a mysterious phone call that throws her on a desperate search for the truth. Her half-sister, the one Ki-jeong and her mother had never managed to really love, becomes her only thought and anchor to reality. Se-oh is almost home after one of her rare trips to the stores when she is startled by the view of her house enveloped by fire. She sees the paramedics carrying away a man on a barrel, and from then on, her life turns into a quest—to track down and plan the destruction of the man she blames for everything that went wrong. READ MORE…