“I go six of one and half a dozen of the other, but no-one remembers me saying that when I did, back in 2003.” (Richard Ayoade)

August is Women in Translation month, hosted by Meytal at Biblibio. I’ve been faithfully reading translated fiction throughout the month but I have failed miserably at blogging about any of it. Usually when bloggers disappear for a bit they’ve gone on holiday/fallen in love/started a new job. I have no such exciting excuses – I’m at the same job, feeling bitter about a lack of holiday & the nearest I’ve got to romance is shamelessly objectifying Tom Burke in the new Cormoran Strike adaptations on the BBC:

In a bid to catch up, here is a quick summary of the 6 novels I’ve read in translation, all quite short but all punching well above their weight in terms of powerful, affecting stories. They also include 2 more stops (France & Greece) on my much neglected Around the World in 80 Books Reading Challenge hosted by Hard Book Habit.

Colette – The Other One (1929, trans. from French by Elizabeth Tait & Roger Senhouse 1960)

Given I’m such a Francophile, it came as a great surprise to me that I hadn’t yet visited France as part of #AW80Books so I’ve rectified the situation with Colette’s tale of infidelity and complex family dynamics over the course of a summer in a villa in France.

Fanny is married to Farou, and awaits his return in a villa where she lives with her stepson Jean and companion Jane, with whom Jean is in love. Fanny subsequently comes to realise that Jane is one of Farou’s many extra-marital dalliances.

It’s a slim novel (157 pages in my edition) and in a sense very little happens. What The Other One offers is a beautifully written, subtle exploration of the psychological complexities that exist between people who are inextricably bound up in one another’s lives, with all the love and pain that can entail.

“Fanny turned on Jane her Paris smile, well made-up and full-lipped, and Jane, whose fair hair lit up a corner of the room, was instantly extinguished.”

Marguerite Duras – La Douleur (1985, trans. from French by Barbara Bray 1986)

I’m overcompensating now by staying France, with Duras’ typical mix of autobiography and fiction, regarding her war experiences. At the start of La Douleur she writes that the work is based on diaries she discovered which she doesn’t remember writing. The six stories/diaries move back and forth across the period of the war and create the sense of a fragmented narrative which explores the desolation and destruction of war and the impossibility of telling a tale of such insurmountable human loss in only one way. I found it incredibly powerful.

“Suddenly freedom is bitter. I’ve just come to know the total loss of hope and the emptiness that follows; you don’t remember, it creates no memory. I think I feel a slight regret at having failed to die while still living. But go on walking, I move from the street to the sidewalk, then back into the street. I walk, my feet walk.”

Sun-Mi Hwang – The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly (2000, trans. from Korean Chi-Young Kim 2013)

This is the story of a hen named Sprout. She decides she wants more from life than laying eggs to be taken away: she wants to live in the wild and raise a chick.

This fable is incredibly clever, in that you can read it to a child but there is plenty for adults here too. It’s a story written with great lightness of touch, and as such the lessons it teaches are various, depending on what you find in it. It could be about (for starters): going your own way in life, questioning authority, facing fears, attitudes to immigrants, the value of empathy, adoptive families, familial love, finding freedom…

“Sprout was the best name in the world. A sprout grew into a leaf and embraced the wind and the sun before falling and rotting and turning into mulch for bringing fragrant flowers into bloom. Sprout wanted to do something with her life, just like the sprouts on the acacia tree. That was why she’d named herself after them. Nobody called her Sprout, and she knew her life wasn’t like a sprout’s, but still the name made her feel good. It was her secret.”

The edition by Oneworld books also features lovely illustrations by Nomoco, worth seeking out.

Penelope S Delta – A Tale Without a Name (1911, trans. from Greek by Mika Provata-Carlone 2013)

Another fable, and another lovely edition from Pushkin Press whose description explains that this is ‘one of Greece’s best loved stories.’ It tells of an indulgent arrogant king who takes his nation into ruin and the son and daughter who bring it back to prosperity under a policy of meaningful employment for the greater good.

“Time always passes. But if you consume yourself in idle things you waste it; whereas if you do work that has a purpose, you make good use of time.”

It’s also a militaristic tale – much emphasis on vanquishing enemies and building armies – but ultimately it is about social responsibility. I don’t think it’s a stretch to see it as deeply political: Delta’s father was a mayor who narrowly avoided execution, her diplomat lover was assassinated and she killed herself the day the Nazis reached Athens. A Tale Without a Name presents complex political ideas in a deceptively simple style.

Han Kang – Human Acts (2014, trans. Deborah Smith 2016)

This novel caused me to deviate from a wholly WITMonth August, as I was so upset by it that I had to read a British Library Crime Classic to recover. I approached it wholly ignorant of the political turmoil that South Korea had experienced in the 1980s. Kang pitches us into the student uprising in Gwangju in 1980. It begins with a boy searching for the body of his friend amongst the piles of corpses that a brutal regime creates.

“Why would you sing the national anthem for people who’d been killed by soldiers? Why cover the coffin in the Taegukgi? As though it wasn’t the nation itself that murdered them.”

Human Acts follows various people all connected to the uprising, and Kang absolutely does not pull her punches. What the piles of bodies mean in human terms is explored fully both in terms of the emotional ramifications and the hard reality of how to deal with so many bodies. It’s a novel that deals with extreme brutality in sensitive, subtle prose.

“Their faces had been covered in white paint, erased. I swiftly shrank back. Necks tipped back, those dazzling white faces were angled towards the thicket. Staring out into the empty air, their features a perfect blank.”

The novel contains scenes of torture that are hard to bear, but never gratuitous. In the final part of the novel, Kang explains her own links to the story, and how this is not quite fiction. It’s astonishing that someone personally affected by the tragedy can write something so carefully constructed, but this is what she has achieved. The story is crafted but absolutely unflinching in looking at atrocities inflicted by governments and their devastating fallout.

“She had no faith in humanity. The look in someone’s eyes, the beliefs they espoused, the eloquence with which they did so, were, she knew, no guarantee of anything. She knew the only life left to her was one hemmed in by niggling doubts and cold questions.”

Elena Ferrante – The Lost Daughter (2006, trans. from Italian Ann Goldstein 2007)

Finally, I’m a bit undecided about the Neapolitan quartet and feel slightly baffled as to why its garnered quite so much praise, but I did enjoy this novella from Ferrante and those who love the quartet will find much that is familiar here: a flawed female narrator, conflicts with loved ones, a sense of violence close to the surface.

Leda takes a holiday alone in southern Italy. She is disturbed by a loud extended Neapolitan family and a certain event draws her into their sphere. During the course of the holiday she reflects on her life and the repercussions of the choices she has taken, on herself, her marriage and her daughters.

“My daughters make a constant effort to be the reverse of me. They are clever, they are competent, their father is starting them out on his path. Determined and terrified, they advance like whirlwinds through the world, they will manage better than us, their parents.”

Leda isn’t likeable but the narrative is compelling and pulls you along to deliver a short sharp shock.

As regular readers will know, I need no encouragement to indulge in an 80s pop video. Here’s one that was a massive hit in the original German and in English translation. It’s about nuclear war; of course we have no worries about such an event now…

20 thoughts on ““I go six of one and half a dozen of the other, but no-one remembers me saying that when I did, back in 2003.” (Richard Ayoade)

  1. Like you, I was lukewarm about the Ferrante series BUT I enjoyed The Lost Daughter – it was punchier, grittier and the narrator was a bit more demanding of the reader (I haven’t read the fourth book in the Ferrante series and I’m unlikely to).

    I’ll take your review of Human Acts as a warning… I can read about lots of things but torture is difficult. I had a similar reading experience with The Narrow Road to the Deep North – the bits in the prisoner camps were almost unbearable and I had to keep putting it down.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Totally agree about The Lost Daughter – I think the shorter form suited Ferrante a lot more.

      Human Acts is such a tough read but its an excellent one, if you feel strong enough for it. I have The Narrow Road to the Deep North buried in the TBR stack, I’ll bear in mind what you say & stack up some comfort reads for straight after it!


  2. That’s a great selection of books for Women in Translation. It’s been interesting to see everyone’s choices this year – the range seem to be increasing, which is encouraging to note. Lovely to see a Colette there, and a Marguerite Duras too. I’ve been on a bit of a French kick lately, certainly as far as WIT Month is concerned, so I’ll have to look out for both of those.

    Liked by 1 person

    • It’s been a really great month hasn’t it? My TBR is even more out of control!

      I hope you enjoy the Colette and the Duras, I’ll look forward to hearing your views! They’re very different but both very powerful.


  3. The more Ferrante reviews I read the more unsure I am. I used to think there was time to read everything and would stick it out to the end of books I didn’t like. Now I’m older and rather like my friend who has never seen any Game of Thrones as it’s a big time investment to be made this far into the seasons, I think I’ll hold off until I’m really at a loose end.

    And ditto on the Burke, although, I have read these books and the first did feel like a poor time investment, but the second and third were much better and had much more scope for objectifying for me personally, as I do like my hot protagonists stretched to their emotional limits/in danger. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

    • I totally agree – when I was younger I’d see books/film/TV series through to the bitter end, now I think life’s too short and I have no hesitation about a DNF. I’m like your friend with The West Wing – I heard great things but I just couldn’t face the masses of episodes. Then a few weeks ago I read an article about how it had gone off the boil in the last few seasons and breathed a sigh of relief that I’ll just never bother with it.

      I’m going to persevere with the Ferrante to the second book but at the moment I’m really not sure. Having enjoyed The Lost Child has rekindled some of my enthusiasm however.

      I’ll probably not read the Strike novels as I’m not the greatest fan of Rowling’s style. I’m enjoying the TV series though, and not just because it’s a feast for the eyes 😉

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Welcome back Madame Bibi ….Ahhhhh 99 Red Balloons plus pyrotechnics – what a way to start the week although maybe not if you’re in Japan! I have to say I loved the Ferrante quartet but I think it appealed to the mad screaming drama queen in me. There’s something about the narrative voice that I absolutely love but I’ve not read this one. Human Acts I’ve been steering clear of ever since a friend tried to read it and said she couldn’t go on also because I read The Vegetarian and was haunted by it for a very long time. Sometimes there’s only so much haunting I can cope with at a time. As for objectifying Tom Burke – excellent choice!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Victoria! I’m going to persevere with the quartet – maybe I’ll come round to the majority view!

      I found Human Acts even tougher than The Vegetarian. It’s such a powerful read if you ever feel up to it, but definitely one to brace yourself for.

      Mr Burke is lovely isn’t he? I’m enjoying the character of Strike too *sigh* 😀

      Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks Karen – I’d like to say I considered the choice carefully but really they were what I grabbed off my TBR!

      I’m not sure about the Ferrante books – I’m going to give the second one a go and if I’m still not convinced I’m giving up. The Lost Daughter was much stronger though.

      Liked by 1 person

  5. I had a laugh over the usual excuses for bloggers to be gone from the internet. Sometimes, though, it’s nice just to take a break for no reason at all. 🙂

    The only one of these books I’ve read is The Lost Daughter, which I loved. The whole ‘object from the beach’ thing was kind of creepy, wasn’t it? (Trying to be cryptic for your readers.) And I found it’s angle on motherhood interesting, as well.
    I own The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly (it was given to me by TJ from My Book Strings), but haven’t read it yet. Not very polite of me. But I will! I will!
    The other one I’d like to read is Human Acts. When I’m ready for it.

    I hope you enjoyed your break! You certainly got lots of good reading done. I’ll have a few posts coming up soon that will also have multiple books – catching up is tough!

    Liked by 1 person

    • I didn’t plan to be gone, it just sort of happened – August got away from me 🙂

      The ‘object on the beach’ thing was so creepy, it was a really unsettling read, very well done considering how short a space Ferrante gave herself.

      The Hen … is lovely, I hope you enjoy it! There’s more to it than initially meets the eye. Human Acts is just stunning, but brutal. Definitely one to read when you feel able to cope with it.

      I’ll look forward to reading your upcoming catch-up posts 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Well done on hitting two spots on your round the world trip, I’m being terribly lazy with the armchair travelling too, but then there’s no rush! I must admit to feeling a chicken over the Han Kang. I read and loved The Vegetarian, and bought Human Acts soon after, but I know it’ll be disturbing, so I’m kind of, well, avoiding it. However, maybe if I stop binge-watching Tom Burke (yep, me too) until I’ve read it, maybe a couple of saved up episodes of Strike will soothe my tormented brow!

    Liked by 1 person

  7. La douleur was part of my Literature and War readalong this year. It really made an impression. I’ve still not read the Ferrante novels. I read older ones which I like but for some reason, I think I might not like the series.

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Pingback: “I am always late on principle.” (Oscar Wilde) | madame bibi lophile recommends

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