I converse with the leafthat talliesthe pulse of my heart.SilentThe leaf has no timefor answers. It countsthe beats of my heartWhen the reckoning ceases,the leaf will reply, fallingtoo lateI shall turn into a bird,Unnumbered, beyond countingoblivious to calculating. By Victoria Demici From Area of
Thank you to all of you for your riveting reviews, blogs, books, translations, festivals, events, and ofcourse, for your generous support and good humour. This past year I’ve visited ten European cities from Trieste to Tallinn, Paris to Athens, networking, scouting, curating and chairing events (r
On 2 December the Austrian Embassy in London bestowed one of its highest civilian honours – the Decoration of Honour in Gold for Services to the Republic of Austria – on a remarkable figure in the world of literary publishing: Tanja Howarth. The award, presented by Austrian Ambassador Bernhard W
The below is what Ursula Phillips, the translator of Jacek Dukaj’s Ice, wrote for the publisher of the book, Head of Zeus/Bloomsbury. In her piece, Ursula explains the process of translating this monumental (1200 pages long) and very complex novel. We are reposting it here with her kind permis
Little Lea lives in a quiet rural town in Spain with her mother and her disabled sister, Nora. When a stranger loses his dog, Little Lea cautions him against entering the nearby forest, claiming that anyone who goes in never comes out. She sees him as the only person who might understand her predica
The term ‘roman dur’, which was used by Georges Simenon himself to refer to all those novels that he regarded as his specifically literary works, is difficult to render precisely in English. This is because its meaning in French is also not precise. Simply calling them Simenon’s ‘serious’
