I’m hoping that everyone is enjoying the kick off to summer holiday weekend. I’m married to a vet so I know it’s not just about picnics and parades and grilling. I know. But that doesn’t mean I can’t revel in the beauty of the kick off of summer, my favorite season.
And this blog post isn’t completely incongruous with the spirit of the weekend, as translations usually remind me to acknowledge my white privilege. Memorial Day is about remembering those who have fallen. I will remember why I am lucky to be at this place and time and country.
The translations in this post, though, are deliciously dark. That’s where their fitting in to the theme of this holiday weekend ends. Stops dead in its tracks.
A translated book written and/or translated by a woman:
The Wolf and the Watchman, Nicklas Natt och Dag, translated by Ebba Segerberg
A grisly murder mystery set against the backdrop of 1793 Stockholm. Two detectives thrown together, a brilliant barrister dying of tuberculosis and an ex soldier, given the position of watchman, not only with PTSD and a false arm (that proves a formidable weapon) but laden with guilt over being unable to save a friend. They both need meaning and direction in their dwindling lives and they find it in solving this hideous crime. Of course, there are other layers, other characters, a political climate, extreme cold weather, extreme desperation, destitution and darkness.
I hunted this book a little. It got my attention right away and I finally gave in to checking it out of the library, even though I didn’t realize that it was translated by a woman. I thought it was a line jumper in my list of reads, just something I had to do.
Of course I loved it. I love a murder that looks unsolvable at the start. Nothing to identify the body or understand how it got to be dismembered and floating in the pre-sewage city’s cess pool. And often with books I love, there are times when I almost feel they are too dark to continue on. When I care too much about the people that have the terrible lives common of that place and time and my heart aches with them. The reviews I scanned on Amazon had a similar feel, that if you can handle the heartbreak, some of the gruesome details, and the overall feeling of grim futility, the novel is very good. I realize this could sound sarcastic and hardly sells it; suffice to say, it makes me want to read the Alienist now, which I was already told I would like.
The only thing I wasn’t sure about, other than the darkness which how could it not be in a country with an unstable political environment, extreme cold and few social programs, was the amount of time spent in the middle on building a character and her history who felt like a minor player to me in the action. Somewhat tangential. I mean, I wanted to be sure that she would be okay, more than the two main sleuths, but there was a lot of time spent on her plight.
And one other thing was that sometimes, the clues to solve the mystery required some hunting but other times they fell into place. And one of the characters gets out of a situation that he really shouldn’t have survived. I know that kind of thing make dramatic tension but it almost didn’t seem feasible and it wasn’t really explained how he got himself out of that.
Interesting to note, however, that the plots end up mostly resolving positively. Last week was the Ania Ahlborn posts that always end up miserable. But as I said, it was worth the read and I’m interested in The Alienist now. More interested.
Moonstone: The Boy Who Never Was, Sjon, translated by Victoria Cribb
I really could have titled this post people on the fringes throughout history. This is a novella about a homosexual orphaned school dropout working as a prostitute in 1918 Iceland, with the Spanish flu and the magic of the cinema coming to town and providing a window into the fascinating world outside the borders.
This seemed bizarre at first, but then felt more haunting in all the facets that are packed into 142 pages, just over two hours of listening (probably less for me because I listen at 1.25x, picked up from Audible’s 50-70% off sale). Some reviewers on Goodreads talk about it as a fever dream. The protagonist belongs at some points in the book and is on the fringes in the other, but shares the love of the cinema, using it as a break from his realities. The backdrop is artfully entwined with the boy’s personal history. It was easy for me to imagine that place and time.
The blurb notes that this is the author’s most accessible and realistic piece. It doesn’t make me want to see his other works if they get weirder. The beginning of this was a little strange. It was strange enough, but not too much so.
I have to note that these translations, which was how they were chosen, were well done. I forgot that they weren’t originally in English. It didn’t feel like anything was lost in the translation either time, even though I imagine neither of these was easy to translate without losing their essence.
I’m thinking about what my summer posts will look like, if I will slow them down like I do sometimes. I’ve not regretted my two on a theme that I have been working on with the challenge this year. I was worried that I would, but I have enjoyed getting two examples of the categories that made the list. I might feel differently when I am reading the comics and the manga. No matter how many times BookRiot wants me to do it, it doesn’t seem to grow on me any more, and they are always the ones I push off til the end of the year when I have posted on my holiday reads and I have to finish.