Plans for August Reading: #WIT and #20BooksofSummer

August is obviously Women in Translation Month, and I’ve been taking part since 2014, which I believe is the year it was initiated by that indefatigable supporter of women writers from all parts of the world, Meytal Radzinski. Last year I had a bit of a Brazilian theme going on; this year, it’s going to be more of a free for all. I cheated a little by starting my reading in July, to comply with Stu’s initiative of #SpanishLitMonth. So I have reviews for Lina Meruane, Margarita Garcia Robayo and Liliana Colanzi. I am still planning to read Ariana Harwicz’s Feebleminded, but I also have a very tempting stack of books by women writers from other countries.

I’ve recently finished Olga Tokarczuk’s Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead and also am nearing the end of Marlen Haushofer’s The Wall. There are definite similarities between the two books (middle aged woman living alone, loving animals, philosophising about the world), aside from the fact that I really enjoyed both of them. But I still have to write the reviews. They will also constitute Books 18 and 19 of my #20BooksofSummer challenge.

I have one more book remaining then for the 20 books challenge, and I think it will be Teffi’s Subtly Worded, which has been sitting on my shelf for far too long. After that, I am free to roam wildly, so I may add Mieko Kawakami’s Breasts and Eggs to the mix, although she wasn’t on my original list of possible summer reads. Then again, I recently bought a couple of Yuko Tsushima books, so I may choose those instead (or additionally). I’ll also dip into Tove Jansson’s letters, but I suspect that, like Virginia Woolf’s diaries, it will be the kind of book that I want to read every day over a long period of time, in small gulps, and ponder over the creative life and what might apply to me.

I’ve also borrowed quite a few books from the library, so will prioritise those, even if they don’t fall into the WIT category.

Polly Sansom’s A Theatre for Dreamers will transport me to the Greek islands, which are very precious to me, although a bit less accessible to me during and after my divorce. The Murdstone Trilogy by Mal Peet and Come Again by Robert Webb look like light-hearted, fun holiday reads. And of course I will continue with my exploration of Sarah Waters: The Little Stranger and The Paying Guests are beckoning, each in their own creepy way. I have also bought the most recent Susie Steiner, which I’ve been awaiting with impatience, so I doubt I’ll be able to resist that one for too long!

If you are looking for inspiration for Women in Translation Month, here are some of my favourites from the past few years, all of them good fun, not too dark:

(This last one is coming out in translation in September via V&Q Books.)

Reading Summary for July 2020

Posting this a little early, because I haven’t got the mental capacity to write reviews today (and I owe at least three).

I’ve read 10 books this month, despite being very busy at work once again. I’m alternating my #SpanishLitMonth (and anticipating #WomeninTranslation Month as well) with comfort (i.e. holiday) reading. My reading took me all over the world, and most of the books (80%) were written by women, half of the women writers were in translation. I’ve also read quite a few books from my #20BooksofSummer list – 18, but only reviewed 15 of them.

I discovered a new to me author that people on Twitter seem to be raving about: Sarah Waters (I slung down Fingersmith within 24 hours and have already reserved some other books by her from the library). I also discovered the Abir Mukherjee crime series set in 1920s India, which I want to read more of.  I was very happy to be reunited with Eva Dolan, whose crime fiction I adore. I finally got to read Olga Tokarczuk again and she did not disappoint, she is rapidly becoming a firm favourite. I was moved and surprised by The Home-Maker, which still feels remarkably contemporary. I reread Barbellion with less of a giggle and more sympathy for his predicament than I did in my brash teens. I was fascinated by the passionate, experimental fiction of the South American women writers, but disappointed by the ‘society pages/lifestyle magazine’ style of Fleishman Is in Trouble, although it contained some clever observations about marriage and divorce.

Holiday reading:

A Rising Man – set in India

Between Two Evils – set in Peterborough

Fingersmith – London and Marlow (near Maidenhead – surprisingly)

Fleishman Is in Trouble – New York City

Journal of a Disappointed Man – largely London

The Home-Maker – small-town America

Spanish Lit Month:

Liliana Colanzi – Bolivia

Margarita Garcia Robayo – Colombia

Lina Meruane – Chile

Women in Translation Month (anticipating):

Olga Tokarczuk – Poland (and Czech border)

Plans for the month of August – what else but Women in Translation? I am continuing with my Latin Americans – Ariana Harwicz awaits, plus Teffi, Tove Jansson’s Letters, Marlen Haushofer, Svetlana Alexievich and more. I’ve also ordered a few more books from the library for easy reading, so that should keep me out of mischief. Only two more books and I am free of any #20BooksofSummer constraints! Plus, I plan to dedicate a lot more time to writing.

 

 

Inside and Out Book Tag

If Annabel, Kaggsy59 and Calmgrove are all doing a bookish meme, then surely it must be a good one? It certainly looks like fun! All about bookish habits – the more visible ones… and a few hidden ones.

My deckchair is not visible in this picture, but isn’t this just the most magical place? My little piece of paradise.

1. Inside flap/back of the book summaries: Too much info? Or not enough?

I quite like reading the flaps, although a lot of the blurbs seem to sound quite samey nowadays. Or else they can be misleading – trying to sell the book as the next [insert current popular XXX]. I’m not hugely upset by spoilers, so I might even read a few reviews of a book I am thinking of buying. If my trusted book bloggers think it’s an intriguing/interesting/unusual book, then that’s good enough for me (they don’t have to like it).

2. New book: What form do you want it in? Be honest: Audiobook, eBook, Paperback or Hardcover?

I really can’t get into audiobooks for some reason – which is ironic, because I used to love reading books out loud to my mother and then to my children. Not terribly keen on ebooks either unless I really have no other choice. I wish I could afford glorious hardbacks, but they are too expensive and take up too much space on my shelves. So paperbacks it is…

3. Scribble while you read? Do you like to write in your books; take notes, make comments, or do you keep your books clean, clean, clean?

Confession time: in secondary school and university, I used to underline or write some key words in my books (not just textbooks, but philosophy and fiction as well). My father has done that all his life, so I just assumed that was something that grownups did! I now much prefer to have colourful little post-it flags on any particularly striking passages.

4. Does it matter to you whether the author is male or female when you’re deciding on a book? What if you’re unsure of the author’s gender?

Not really. Although if I go through a phase of reading mostly male authors, I really feel the need to compensate with a long phase of female authors. And I’m pretty sure I’ve read books by authors with ambiguous names, certain they were women and then discovering they were men (Evelyn Waugh?) or vice versa (it took me over a decade to discover Ayn Rand was a woman – possibly because I didn’t think a woman could be the the mouthpiece for such radical egoism (and so much lauded by certain men I know). So there you go: you really can’t tell if it’s a male or female writer most of the time.

5. Ever read ahead? Or have you ever read the last page way before you got there?

Something that I used to do in my youth. As I said, I don’t mind spoilers and I really, really wanted to make sure that my favourite character doesn’t come to a bad end. But I soon discovered that authors are too clever to say ‘and then Gatsby was shot by the pool’ in the very last paragraph, so I stopped.

6. Organized bookshelves or outrageous bookshelves?

Super-organised in principle, but now that I’m seriously running out of space (this month alone, I discovered to my dismay, I ordered 50 books, so lockdown has been ruinous for my purse), there is a lot of double-stacking going on. Also, piles on every available flat surface in the house.

MY US shelf is looking decidedly crowded nowadays. I will probably need to flow over somewhere else…

7. Have you ever bought a book based on the cover (alone)?

Not unless I’m pretty sure I’d like the content too. Does buying several copies of the same book because of beautiful covers count? I have several copies of To the Lighthouse, but I do try to restrain myself. Which is why I have some really quite awful Pan Classics covers from the 1970s that my parents bought way back when. They are still in good condition and I can’t justify to myself buying a more aesthetically pleasing edition of Villette, Pride and Prejudice or Moll Flanders (and have to donate the old editions to charity shops). Of course, if someone were to give them to me as a present…

8. Take it outside to read, or stay in?

The best place to read is in the conservatory (see picture above). When I raise the blinds, I can see the garden but am not bothered by creepy crawlies. I have a comfortable deckchair, I don’t get sunstroke, I have my cold drink to hand, and the cats often jump on my lap and purr. It’s just a shame that at times it gets either too hot or too cold in there. Reading in bed is always an attractive option – as long as I don’t doze off too soon.

Summary of June Reading And Other Good Things

June has always been my favourite month – lots of hours of daylight, my birthday, my younger son’s birthday, my older son’s nameday, and in my childhood it used to mark the end of school (no longer the case nowadays). So we had a lot of cake, and even a few drinks with online friends and even with real, grown-up friends in actual flesh, in my garden, in strategically placed chairs. What more could you want?

Books

I really do believe I might have finally found my reading mojo which had been missing in action for months. I read 13 books this month (well, 12 to be precise, because one of them was a DNF, as mentioned below). Unusually for me, only four of the 13 books were translations, while ten were by women writers. Two were poetry collections, which require more attentive reading and rereading, but are shorter.  Of course, I still have to catch up with reviews. But here is what I have reviewed thus far, in case you missed it:

I was very pleased with myself that 11 of those were from my #20Books of Summer list! In fact, the only two exceptions were my Virtual Crime Book Club read (Three Hours by Rosamund Lupton) and a sort of in-memoriam read upon hearing of the death of Carlos Ruiz Zafon. The Shadow of the Wind has been enthusiastically recommended by so many people, and the theme of books and mystery and historical connections made me think I would love it. Sadly, this was the book I did not finish. I did give it a good thorough try: 246 pages, after which I realised I was finding it a bit of a slog, was never keen to get back to to it and I was in danger of losing my reading va-va-voom once more. The first few chapters were fun, but it all became a bit too sentimental, too repetitive, too clicheed and I lost interest in the characters and the big mystery.

Films

Since my last round-up of films, I’ve watched a few more, all coincidentally with a ‘fish out of water’ theme.

Toni Erdmann – In addition to the often very funny cringeworthy moments and the painful father/daughter relationship, I thought this was an astute look at capitalism and corporate culture taking over both individual and national cultures. It felt like Maren Ade did an excellent job in understanding the endless patience, hospitality and desire to please the foreigners (no matter how crazy they might seem) of the Romanian people with which the main German characters interact.

The Past – Having previously been mesmerised (and saddened) by Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation, I thought it would be nice to follow it up with another of his films currently available on Mubi. A moving portrayal of relationship breakdown and family dynamics with only a light touch of cross-cultural misunderstandings, I was especially impressed by the child/teen actors.

The Shining – a rewatch with the boys, who don’t like horror films but quite like Stanley Kubrick. I haven’t read the book, but I understand why Kubrick made some changes in the script – and made it more psychological rather than supernatural.

Animal Crackers – struggle with this one, it just wasn’t to my taste. I never quite ‘got’ the humour of the Marx brothers as a child – always preferred Buster Keaton, Charlie Chaplin, Laurel and Hardy or Bourvil. And I clearly still don’t get on with it as a grown-up. There were a handful of witty repartees which I enjoyed, but not quite enough to make the film worthwhile.

Other Events:

Given my new incarnation as a literary translator who is going to be doing more than just the occasional one-off project, it’s not surprising that I’ve been keen to keep up with the very welcoming and utterly fascinating, cosmopolitan translation community. In addition to attending the Borderless Book Club and hearing translators and publishers talk about their choices, I have also attended some events aimed at translator audiences.

Translation Theory Lab – discussion with Kate Briggs, author of This Little Art. 

Daniel Hahn, Katy Derbyshire, Arunava Sinha talking about their current projects and changes to their routines during the Covid crisis, hosted by the Society of Authors

The W.G. Sebald Lecture given by David Bellos – in which he dispelled what he called the ‘myths of translation’, which are a combination of wishful thinking and confirmation bias, and ultimately not that helpful to translators.

Plans for July:

I am planning to read a lot of Women in Translation for August, and thought I might start a bit early, to combine with Stu Jallen’s Spanish Literature Month (which includes Latin American literature). I’ve got Ariana Harwicz (Argentina), Lina Meruane (Chile), Liliana Colanzi (Bolivia) and Margarita Garcia Robayo (Colombia) on the TBR pile.

 

Five Bad Reading Habits

I saw this post about bad reading habits over on Amy’s blog and it made me eager to discover my own. Of course, ‘bad’ is in the eye of the beholder, but I could certainly relate to several of her reading habits.

  1. Buying (or borrowing) new books even though I have no hope on earth of ever finishing the ones I still have unread on my shelves. Apparently, this is such a common failing among book lovers that the Japanese have a word for it: ‘tsundoku’  積ん読 (piling up of reading) and it’s been recognised as a problem since at least the Meiji Era (1868-1912). I go on occasional book buying bans starting on 1st of January (my only New Year resolutions) and I usually last until April. This year I was planning to last longer, but now I feel it is my moral duty to support authors and publishers in the Covid 19 crisis.
  2. Reading books that are too similar and getting them mixed up. This derives from what some might call my other bad habit of reading several books at once. I don’t personally consider that a bad habit at all, since I am often in a very different mood in the morning and the evening, or else I need a respite from a more challenging text or a gruesome murder or a half-mastered language. Occasionally, I seem to gravitate towards a certain topic or else the blurb was slightly misleading and I end up with two books that are quite similar in terms of plot or setting or characters. There’s a real danger that they start to blur and blend in my mind. When I realise that is about to happen, I usually put one of the books aside until later, or else try to read in different languages, which seems to help in keeping things apart.
  3. Avoiding books because they are praised too much. And I don’t mean just the buzz around launch time (which I know a lot of you don’t like and therefore plan to read the book later, when things have quietened down). I often purposely avoid books on bestseller lists, prize winners, those that get great reviews or get lots of recommendations in the Top 10 or Top 100 lists etc. Call it being a literary snob, but I tend to opt for lesser-known works which give me a feeling of personal discovery, or else books recommended by those whose opinion I really value (and that would typically be you, my dear blogger friends).
  4. Reading in bed at night. That is one of my favourite times and places to read, so it’s not a problem… unless I leave it too late and end up being too tired and my eyes close on the third page, which I end up reading five times before I finally give up and switch off the light. The converse of that is that when I suffer from insomnia (which is often – although strangely enough I seem to be sleeping better lately, probably because I’m so exhausted all the time) and wake up at 3:30 am, I get so wrapped up in the book I’m reading that I’m usually still at it at 6 am. And then suffer the bleary consequences that day.
  5. Not taking notes as I go along. This is for books which I intend to review rather than the ones I just read for relaxation. I do have little stick-it flags which I use to mark certain quotable passages, but I rely over-much on my memory and don’t write down why that particular passage resonated with me… and sometimes I’m wondering what on earth that was all about after I finish the book. Or else I mark far too many of them and can’t possibly choose which one to include. Or else I don’t have my little flags to hand (this happens especially when commuting), so brilliant ideas and quotes get lost. Anyway, that’s why so often my reviews are on the emotional side. I can remember the feelings the book arose in me, but I don’t have the evidence to back it.

I’d love to hear what habits, good, bad or otherwise, you have when it comes to reading. Can you relate to any of mine or do they shock you? I’m pretty willing to bet that you all have at least the first one in common with me.