It may be summer, but your brain needn’t go on vacation. My summer list of fiction in translation that demands and repays close attention.
He’s far too poetic to pass for Martin Scorsese’s Travis Bickle, but the ruminative nighttime cab-driver who narrates “Night Roads,” the fourth novel by Russian writer Gaito Gazdanov (1903-1971) wheels guiltily and memorably through the same type of hollowed–out urban apocalypse.
In this World Books podcast, Hungarian writer Ferenc Barnás talks about his autobiographical novel “The Ninth,” which melds the sophistication of stream-of-consciousness with a child’s eye view of survival amid repression in an authoritarian state.
Cao Naiqian’s terse style may owe something to the writer’s ‘legit’ job – since 1972 he has been a police detective in the Public Security Bureau of Datong City. Set in rural China during the Cultural Revolution, his stories are not routine police tales but offer indelible images of people on the edge, raw yet poetic depictions of violence and despair rooted in the denial of elemental needs for food, sex, and respect.
Rich in intellectual detail, character and cuisine, this novel is a history lesson cast in the form of a mystery, part of an effort by many Chinese writers to exhume and examine their country’s Maoist past.
“Every day I buckle on my guns and go out to patrol the dingy city. I’ve been doing it so long that I’m shaped to it, like a hand that’s been carrying buckets in the cold.” So begins author Marcel Theroux’s “Far North,” a novel of post-apocalypse set in Siberia. It’s an interesting geographic choice for this kind of story, as Siberia is one of the few places in the world that already looks as desolate and ravaged as a post-apocalyptic landscape. Theroux, who has both spent time on the Great Steppe, and also filmed a documentary on settlers who have chosen to move back to Chernobyl, does a remarkable job evoking the breath-freezing cold of that world, giving even the novel’s most implausible ideas the ring of truth.
Jose Manuel Prieto’s “Rex” is an adventure through time: not historical time, or physical time, so much as literary time, the dreamy, static continuum of impressions and formulations recorded across centuries and civilizations.
All great anti-utopian novels focus on a disturbing aspect of the present, pushing it to its most horrific conclusions. In “1984,” it’s the panoptic police state. In “Brave New World,” the sexualization and Americanization of England. In “The Handmaid’s Tale,” the subjugation of women through the sanctification of childbirth. In Ninni Holmqvist’s “The Unit,” the issue in question is the way the childless, especially the childless elderly, are looked down upon as irrelevant.
