A Work in Progress

Short Story Sunday: Soroche

One of the things I like about Andrea Barrett's short stories is seeing where the link between the characters and the focus on science and nature comes in.  She also tends to feature women fairly prominently in her stories or themes dealing with relationships, though not exclusively, which I also appreciate.  This weekend's story, "Soroche" in Ship Fever, is a parallel of sorts between a contemporary woman and a native man of Tierra del Fuego who was taken from his native land and brought to England for a number of years but returned to his country via Darwin's ship the Beagle.

It's sort of hard to imagine how the two stories could be connected, how one might possibly be introduced or learn about the other.  Barrett moves effortlessly between places and people, however, as well as between past and present--even the present's most recent past.  This is also the beauty of her storytelling the layer upon layer upon layer to fill in all the tiny details and weave it all together so tightly.

Zaga, who the reader will come to know fairly well, tells this story--of the marriage to and then subsequent death of her husband Joel.  It is a second marriage for Joel, who has two children from a prior marriage.  They were meant to live with their mother until she scuttled them back to their father.  But this is part of their shared past and Zaga tells the story after everything has already happened.  It is at his death when she is clearing out their house, clearing out his life and all aspects of their shared life, that she reflects back on an event in their earlier life.  It is a past moment that will inform her life at this moment now.

When Zaga and Joel first married, he built her a house, a beautiful large house, which is now tinged with such sad memories she wants nothing more than to empty it out and leave.  As she works clearing closets and sending off possessions no longer needed, she remembers a vacation they took together to the Andes--at just the moment the children's mother dumped them off with their father.  What should have been a happy time, particularly with the new knowledge they would soon become parents together, was burdened by two nearly grown children none-too-pleased by their stepmother--and only to happy to show it.  And whatever moments they might have had together in peaceful bliss are not possible while Zaga suffers from "Soroche" or altitude sickness.  

The doctor who treats Zaga spends time with her while she is recuperating and Joel and the children are off skiing and tells her about Darwin's famous trip on the Beagle and the precious cargo, in the form of Fuegians who had been "stolen" and now returned.  And of one in particular, Jemmy Button.  It is Zaga's own behavior as a widow divesting herself of all her possessions that parallels Jemmy's story.

This is the skeleton of things with the details being fleshed out so perfectly by Barrett in the story.  Curiously, sometimes it is not the possessions-however beautiful and expensive-that matter not a whit when they are lost, but the happiness they stand for.  The happiness and sadness--the stories that stand for the physical materials that are what matter.  It is only in getting rid of them that the truth behind them begins to matter.

Next week: "Birds With No Feet".  No New Yorker story this weekend as it was a double issue.  I feel almost like looking for another story somewhere to take it's place . . . 

Nora Webster by Colm Tóibín

One of the blurbs on the back cover of Colm Tóibín's Nora Webster reads "If you loved Brooklyn then you'll love this . . . "  I did love Brooklyn when I read it back in 2009.  Surely so many years have not passed since I have read any more of his work?  His writing is always worth the wait I've decided, but I won't let so much time pass before I pick up another of his books.  I loved Nora Webster in a very different way than I loved Brooklyn, and I seem to recall that the two books are meant to be taken as something of a pair (will there be another one, then?).  While there was something very youthful and fresh about Brooklyn, Nora Webster feels more melancholy and mature.  It was shortlisted for the Costa Award and has garnered much well earned praise.

Nora Webster is a portrait of a woman who has, at forty-six, been widowed and now must look after her two elder daughters and two younger sons alone.  She lives in a small town in Ireland where everyone is essentially in each other's pockets and everyone seems immediately apprised of the goings-on of their neighbors.  As little as a new hairstyle or a change of hair color is enough to be noted and remarked upon--and not always in a complimentary manner.  The period is the late 1960s, a revolutionary and culturally progressive era for so many, but still in Ireland society is decidedly conservative and straight-laced.  To buck against the establishment is to invite criticism.

And now Nora Webster is finding her independence.  Or trying to at least.  And sometimes enjoying it, to the chagrin of others.  But nothing comes easily for her.  Her elder daughters are nearly grown and ready to make their own ways in the world and there is often friction between Nora and the two.  And the two boys are still wheeling from the death of their father whom they were very close to.  But so is Nora.  Maurice was the love of her life and now he is gone.  During his illness she was at his bedside almost continuously and the boys were in the care of an aunt.  Both show the strain and one has begun to stutter with the implication being that Nora left them on their own too long. 

How does a woman begin to remake her life, go on, care for her children both emotionally and financially when she had for so long been only a wife and mother.  Now she must find a way to make ends meet and go out to work when it has been many years since was employed outside the home.  And perhaps find some sort of happiness and contentment which is a challenge in the best of circumstances and even more so when you are a woman of "a certain age" who must start over again almost from scratch.

Nora is a prickly sort of woman though not without sympathy and certainly not without love and concern for her children.  In some ways she almost seems cold and maybe a little selfish, but I could never condemn her.  Rather I found much to admire in her character and could relate to a lot of what she thought and felt.  Looking at her life through the prism of what Ireland was like at the time, she was prickly.  But she is also forging a new independence and doing so unapologetically, though not without costs.  Everything she does is scrutinized.  The way she manages her children, how she manages her job, the social life she tries to undertake, and even something as small as the purchase of a new gramophone must be considered and reconsidered.  How will it effect her children, how will she be judged for it and only lastly is it something she truly wants and that will give her some pleasure in life.

Colm Tóibín is pitch perfect in his characterization both of Nora and her children but also of the place and time capturing the feel and attitudes of rural Ireland.  Nora is a woman who must learn to live her life in a new way and break free from the strictures of small town society.  She doesn't always do it successfully, at least without attracting criticism, but she goes about it honestly.   It was sometimes a little painful to watch her struggles, but it was encouraging to see her find her way.  When she finally begins to live at least as much for herself as for her children, she decides to reinvent her life and I applaud every woman who does so. 

"The idea of what she might do with the rooms downstairs kept her awake.  She had to remind herself that she was free now, that there was no Maurice who would be cautious about costs, and grumpy about anything that would cause disruption to his routine.  She was free.  She could make any decision she liked about the house.  She felt almost guilty as it occurred to her now that she could do whatever pleased her.  It could all be done, anything she wanted, as long as she could afford it.  If Jim and Margaret disapproved, or her sisters or daughters came with advice she would ignore all of them."

The Water's Lovely by Ruth Rendell

Ruth Rendell was (happily) a very prolific writer.  And she was writing all the way up to her death this past spring.  As a matter of fact there is still one more novel forthcoming this fall.  I went through a phase where I read loads of her books--nearly all those written under her pen name Barbara Vine (I think those books are amongst my favorites by her), and quite a few of those written as Ruth Rendell, but I have as yet to pick up any of her Inspector Wexford novels.  Maybe this is not a bad thing since now there will be no more books.  There are more than two dozen Wexford novels, many of which I have on hand and will be filling out the remaining titles in my collection.  So while there will be no more, I still have many books left to read and she is an author I would most happily read again.  I think I will be busy with her work for quite some time.

Ruth Rendell was never one to shy away from difficult topics, though her stories have never made me queasy or felt as though they were filled with unnecessary violence.  For that I have a lot of respect.  She manages to capture the reader's attention, perhaps put them on edge even, and all without ever feeling as though the story was over the top.  She often manages to use contemporary events in her stories and will delicately explore all the psychological nuances underneath--the motivations, the hypocrisies, the passions and abuses that might cause someone to be pushed over the edge into the realm of violence.  And she is a master of bringing disparate characters seemingly completely unrelated to each other together in ways you won't imagine.  She can pull the rug out from under you and give you a shocker just when you least expect it. And don't be surprised if you think you have a character all figured out and then she turns the table on you.

That's what she does in The Water's Lovely.  To be honest she sort of threw me for a loop with this one and I had to set it aside for a bit and mull it over.  I don't think I will be giving anything away (and I promise not to share too many details) by saying that, at least in this story, people you may find culpable and maybe even downright odious might just come away smelling of roses.  And those that seem a little on the odd side and perhaps guilty, aren't really in all actuality.  And that twists of fate are not always fair in delivering justice. 

The novel was published in 2006, so it is a later book.  I wonder (it's been a while since I read her work other than the odd novel here and there, so I can't compare not having stories fresh in mind) if it is just on the cynical side to a degree.  She takes actual events that occurred at the time the book was published and throws her characters in them to fend for themselves.  This is what left me somewhat uneasy.  Honestly, though, this is exactly why I love her books.  I may be unsettled by the way things turn out, but isn't that just what life is like sometimes?

The Water's Lovely is the story of two sisters, Ismay and Heather.  A decade earlier their stepfather was found drowned in the bathtub.  While none of the family was implicated in his death, a death eventually ruled accidental, there is a strong suspicion that Heather had something to do with it.  Ismay and her mother returned home that fateful afternoon to find Heather at the top of the staircase, her clothes wet down the front, as she tells them to come and leads them into the bathroom and shows them the body.  Heather was only thirteen.  When the police were called in, Heather's mother tells them she and both girls had just come in from shopping.  No questions were asked, either by the police or by Ismay, her mother or aunt.  But the question ever after hangs over their heads. 

Some things are best left alone and unsaid.  Maybe it was the death of her husband, or maybe the worry of what Heather might have done, or maybe there is just something not quite right in the family, but Beatrix begins to go mad and must never be left alone.  Now all these years later she lives with her sister Pamela in the upstairs part of the house and Ismay and Heather share the flat downstairs.   Heather is a bit unusual, not pretty, but she works and seems fine if a little on the plain side.  Ismay is attractive and independent and has a most attractive lover.  When Heather begins dating a man from her work, Ismay wonders if perhaps she should tell him about her sister's past.  Maybe he should know what might have occurred before things get too serious.

Ismay can't bring herself to tell him, so instead she confesses their past into a tape.  A tape that will turn up later and cause endless problems.  This is not your typical whodunnit.  Did Heather kill her stepfather?  In a way that's not the important question.  Whether she did or didn't isn't what the plot hinges on.  The "why" of the story is much more important, but even then, as the why is explored there is so much more at work in this story.  The why by story's end almost seems as irrelevant as the who.  Or maybe it is, but not in the way the reader expects it. 

How many other books came before this one?  In Ruth Rendell's hands, the stories are always fresh.  She takes the same questions and manages to ask them in ways that are unexpected.  Which is why I can read her over and over again.   She is by far my favorite crime/mystery writer.  This story left me a little unsettled, but I can appreciate the genius that went into telling it.

Teaser Tuesday: 3 Dutch Women Authors

So, I managed to find three novels by Dutch women authors that provoked yesterday's post.  I have quite a few books by women writers that are crime novels or stories of suspense, but I think I am in the mood for simply a good story, plain fiction and perhaps one of these three will be just what I need.  First line teasers are always a good way (or one of the ways anyway) to gauge whether a story will grab me from the first.

The Ten Thousand Things by Maria Dermoût, translated by Hans Koning.  This was published in 1955 and has been reissued by NYRB as one of their classics.  It is called a "novel of shimmering strangeness".

"On the island in the Moluccas there were a few gardens left from the great days pf spice growing and 'spice parks'--a few only.  There had never been many, and on this island they had even long ago been called not 'parks' but 'gardens'."

"Now, as then, the gardens spread along both bays--outer bay and inner bay--the spice trees clustered together, kind with kind, clove with clove, nutmeg with nutmeg; a few high shade trees in between, kanari trees usually, and on the bayside coconut palms and plane trees to give shelter from the wind."

Quite exotic.  The excerpt is very pleasing and appeals to my senses!

The Tea Lords: a Novel of Java by Hella Haasse translated by Ina Rilke.  I know this book made the rounds in the book blogosphere a few years back.  Hella Haasse is a classic contemporary Dutch writer, I think. 

"'Here!' he cried out loud.  His voice sounded thin in the vastness."

"He was standing on the edge of a ravine.  The nearby peaks were wreathed in afternoon mist.  These were the foothills of the Goenoeng Tiloe: deep folds in the earth's crust, a drapery of dense, vivid green covering a gigantic, recumbent body.  Between the rugged flanks lay a bowl-shaped valley."

It's very visual, isn't it? I like being transported away somewhere else.  This is a book I started at the tail end of last year's summer reading project, so it might be nice to finally read it in earnest.

The Storm: a Novel by Margriet de Moor translated by Carol Brown Janeway.  The blurb calls this "powerfully dramatic and psychologically gripping".  It is a historical novel based on an actual event.

"One of them, Lidy, stood at the window and looked out.  It was one of those midwinter mornings when it's just getting light and last night's storm no longer makes you feel cozy indoors, it's like a whine that gets on your nerves.  She held her little daughter in her arms and her coat was already buttoned.  In the process of leaving she hesitated for this one moment like someone who's glad to be on her way, if that's what comes next, but would be just as glad to stay home.  That the whole plan wasn't hers to begin with, but Armanda's, was irrelevant.  At this moment, all she was thinking was: I really want to drive a car again.  Today and tomorrow, Armanda, you can take care of my daughter, and go with my husband to the party being given by your friend, who also happens to be his half sister.  Tomorrow afternoon at the latest, I'll be back."

This sounds like it could be a potentially harrowing book.  Not a bad thing, of course--just need to make sure I am in the right frame of mind for a story like this.

They all sound good, don't they?  In different ways . . .  Now comes the hard part, which to pick up and read.

State of the Nightstand, or what I'm reading

I'm not really sure how helpful my keeping a blog is for anyone else, but for keeping track of my reading, book lists, former library book check outs, past reading plans and other sundry minutiae when it comes to my reading life, it is my own best resource.  Considering the declining 'foot traffic' it sees these days, I think I am one of the few people who actually visits regularly (no worries there as I know how busy summer is and how hard it is to make free time stretch--I am equally as guilty when it comes to visiting the places I enjoy visiting online).  So, this is my own way of keeping track of my books and my reading--what I am reading now and what I want to read and what I want to buy, and general bookishness.  

As a matter of fact earlier today I was looking at my posts from last summer when I was "Reading the Netherlands"--a project that for me was quite successful.  Since I am trying to read a few extra books by women authors in translation this month (will write more about those books later this week), I started thinking about the books I didn't get around to reading last year by Dutch writers but couldn't remember all the titles, so I went in search of them.  

As weird as it sounds I sometimes like looking back at old posts that show my night stand as it is something of a curiosity to see what I was reading at the time.  When I saw this post and the accompanying photos, it thought maybe it was time to once again take a snapshot of my nightstand.  It's a good thing that I have a sturdy nightstand, don't you think?  I won't go through the titles as they should all be somewhere or other on my sidebar.  Unfortunately I can't see all the spines of the books from last year (almost to the day as that photo was taken in August, too), but I didn't do very well in clearing them off and finishing them.  Should I admit that two of them are holdovers to this year (and one is a current read and appears in the photo above, too?)?  Two got bumped into the 'want to finish reading but am setting this aside temporarily' pile, and several more were simply returned to their former spots in piles and on shelves.  One was a library book that went back and I have ever since meant to either buy (since it is now in paper) or borrow again someday.  I did finish a few of them, though fewer than what wasn't finished.  

I have mixed feelings about unfinished books.  Part of me really hates the idea of not completing something I have set out to read, but I have slowly been letting go of that worry.  I often get in over my head and return books to shelves when I know I was simply too overenthusiastic about something new that sounded so tempting.  Sometimes I struggle with a book, know the timing is just not right and let it go for the moment.  It is the few that I got well into and was enjoying but life took over and they sadly fell by the wayside.  I often think about how very practical sticking with reading just one or two books would be, but I have no will power when it comes to books (so I think about it, but not very seriously).  Besides, sometimes you just have to 'try out' a book to see if it is going to 'work'. 

In just over a week I will be going on vacation.  I am hoping that the piles will be shorter by at least two books by then, but otherwise I think this is going to be the 'pool of books'  will be choosing from.  I think the Sansom is a shoe in, and the James is loaded onto my tablet via Project Gutenberg.  Do I pick another long book to make progress in?  Or a book that has the fewest number of pages left to read?  I might end up taking a 'new' book with me.  And I might take an old book--something left unfinished from last year's photo with me.

In any case I just like seeing where my reading has taken me (last year's photo) and where I am going now (see above).  Oh, and I see that I have left one book out of the photo--tonight's reading actually. Maybe I will finish three books before I leave . . . (And I promise that someday soon I will start writing properly about the stack of books finished and enjoyed that sits right next to my computer as a gentle reminder).

What's on your nightstand? 

Short Story Sunday: Rare Bird

Have you ever fantasized about walking out of your life and creating another one somewhere else?  I'm not sure I would ever be daring enough to really do it, but the idea has crossed my mind on more than one occasion.  In Andrea Barrett's short story, "Rare Bird" from Ship Fever, that essentially what the character, Sarah Anne, does.  Of course it is both easier and harder as she is a single young woman with few ties and it's 1762 when the story opens.  So, her life is not one that is most pleasing to her being essentially a spinster--easy and appealing to walk away, but surely in the mid-18th century not the done thing for any woman.

Following on the story from a few weekend's ago about botanist Carl Linnaeus, he once again makes a peripheral appearance in the story.  I love how the stories seem to be intermingled, either with characters crossing stories or similar themes explored in different ways.  I also find it fascinating to look at nature and science through the eyes of characters living at periods when science was in some ways so very new and unknown.  We take so much for granted what we know now, but in the 18th-century they were working under very different suppositions.

For example, in "Rare Bird" a group of learned men--and one woman--are having a spirited conversation.

"Just now they're discussion Linneaus's contention that swallows retired under water for the winter--that old belief, stemming from Aristotle, which Linneaus still upholds."

And he is not alone in his beliefs.  Did fishermen and others really pull these birds from the ice, place them near a fire where they revived and then flew about?  Sarah Anne has her doubts, as do a few of the other men.  As any good scientist would do, she would put the supposition to the test and create an experiment to either back up or challenge her theory.  But then, at 29 Sarah is now just a spinster. 

"Sarah Anne has inherited her father's brains but Christopher inherited everything else, including his father's friends.  Sarah Anne acts as hostess to these men, at Christopher's bidding.  In part she's happy for their company, which represents her only intellectual companionship.  In part she despises them for their lumbago and thinning hair, their greediness in the presence of good food, the stories they repeat about the scientific triumphs of their youth, and the fact that they refuse to take her seriously.  Not one of them has done anything original in years."

Staunch in their beliefs, Sarah Anne listens to them but knows they are old and stodgy and not willing to look to other possibilities.  So, too, is Linneaus in his ideas when he responds to her letters.  It's not seemly for Sarah Anne to question, to want to experiment, even to be interested really.  Her brother Christopher is soon to be wed to Juliet, and Sarah Anne knows her world is about to shrink even more since his fiancé is not especially interested in science.  Sarah Anne is soon to be the third wheel, maybe just the favored aunt to their planned children, but she has already learned to be the unselfish one, the flexible one--giving up her bedroom to the new bride.  What else will she have to give up?

An opportunity is going to come along in the form of a widow at one of their dinner parties.  Juliet may laugh at her behind her back for her lack of dress sense, but Mrs. Pearce has her independence and a strong and inquiring mind.  And maybe there is a world beyond her limited view for Sarah Anne after all. 

Only three, now four, stories in and I think this is a strong collection of stories.  What a varied and fascinating collection that moves between different places and periods and people with such assuredness.

Next weekend: Soroche.  I haven't a clue what that means, but no doubt there will be the literal and then the figurative meaning.  Here rare bird surely refers not just to the swallows, or the birds that hibernate below water, but Sarah Anne herself.  There is always more than meets the eye in a story by Andrea Barrett.

* * *

If you want to be told a story, go check out this week's (August 10) New Yorker story by Michael Cunningham, "Little Man".  I decided--why read when I could have the author read it to me!  It was a cool experience.  I had never read any of Cunningham's work previously.  The story is a retelling of the fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin from the perspective of the gnome who wants a baby but can't arrange one in the more conventional manner.  Who wants to marry a gnome, right?  Do go check out the author's Q&A as I missed the little hint at the end of the story, which gave me that-oh, I see, moment!

The New Yorker often gives a link to an audio version of the story, so I must check those out now.  I think I might have to read the free Library of America short story installment for this week, "Adventure" by Sherwood Anderson, which also happens to be read by Deborah Eisenberg.  Serendipity--two stories read aloud!

Giveaway Winner . . .

Many thanks to everyone who has left a comment on my teaser post.   I've used the handy Random number generator to choose a winner--five names listed in order of comment #1-#5.  And the generator says:

#1 was the number generated (in the grey box), so Cathy is the winner of The Woman in the Photograph by Dana Gynther.  Cathy, if you would please send me your mailing address (literarycat@hotmail.com), I will drop the book in the mail for you this week.

Thanks everyone!

End of the Week Mishmash

"Mishmash" posts are always another way of saying-it's been a really long week and while I really should write about one of the books I have finished recently (they are actually starting to pile up now . . .), but I don't have the energy to do so.   I'm not quite sure what is happening, but I seem to be losing my ability to multitask these days.  How was I ever able to work, work out, read, blog, read and comment on other blogs, do needlework, Postcross . . . and other sundry activities and still have a little energy left over?  If I can do one or two things (working being the necessity), I guess I am doing well.  All the other extracurricular activities seem to be always left by the wayside.  Maybe it is just the summer warmth.  Now that we are in the dog days of summer with the promise of fall not too far off, I will find a way to manage things better.  And then there is my upcoming vacation.  Less than two weeks to go now! 

So, just a little mishmash of things today, starting with a little needlework update.  Look, my little Prairie Fairy is almost finished.  I haven't been spending lots of time on her, but it is amazing how even fifteen minutes a day adding a few rows here, a motif there, and voilà, she is nearly done.  Maybe I need to be content with smaller steps these days, rather than doing it all and doing so much of it?  I won't promise that I will finish it this weekend, but I am getting very near.  I have been thinking I would turn this into a "mattress pincushion" (see second photo down of Spring rabbit), but if I make it fancy with a proper backside and stitched edges, it may languish even longer.  A regular pincushion?  A little pillow?  Decisions, decisions, but first to finish the design.

I have a feeling my vacation is going to be more about relaxing than doing lots of activities, particularly since it is going to be a very quick mini-vacation--a mere 2-1/2 days there with an eight-ish hour drive each way (perfect reading time).  So I plan on taking some stitching with me.  Just one project--either an "in progress" design or something new, but something really small.  I've been thinking of picking up my "Eight Point Star" again.  I think I only ever got part of the first star finished.  October is still well in the distance, but maybe if I started working on my Halloween Mystery Sampler again, I could make some good progress on it?  It's always a little dangerous to begin digging through my needlework projects, as, like books, everything all of a sudden looks tempting!

And for a little bookishness . . . have you seen the new translations/reissues of Georges Simenon's Inspector Maigret books?  I like them!  I have about a dozen of his books on my shelves--both Maigrets and a few of his standalones.  I am tempted (there's that word again), to pick one up soon (short-so instant gratification).  Of course I want all the new books, and how fun would it be to read them in order (dangerous really, and a project likely doomed to failure--better to just pick one that sounds good).   I suspect it is just fine to read them pell-mell.

Speaking of books in translation.  Along with my French mystery, which I am thoroughly enjoying, I have decided on another book for my Women in Translation Month reading (If I can finish one or two books this month I will be very pleased indeed).  As it turns out, I have picked another French author (I was trying for something translated from a language I've not yet read this year, but this one just jumped out at me).  I think The People in the Photo by Hélène Gestern is going to be a perfect choice. It is an epistolary novel between a French woman and a Swiss biologist.  She finds a photo of her mother as a young woman standing between two men and decides to try and find out who the men were and the story behind the photo.  I love what I've read and it is the sort of story that invites you to pick it up again and again.

Otherwise the rest of my weekend will be spent reading a couple of mysteries that I am thisclose to finishing.  I also have already started this weekend's short story by Andrea Barrett, and I still must see what The New Yorker has in store for me.  I'm sure this will take up the bulk of what reading time I get this weekend, but if there is any left over, I need to dip into my current nonfiction books, too.  I've been trying hard to approach my reading in smaller bite-sized chunks these days, and maybe I will feel less disappointed when I see how slowly I seem to be moving.  

Don't forget to leave a comment if you are interested in a copy of Dana Gynther's The Woman in the Photograph that I have to give away!

Happy reading (or whatever other activity you have on the agenda this weekend).

Women in Translation Month

Did you know that August is Women in Translation Month?  I just discovered this yesterday via Europa Editions latest email update.  I love Europa Editions (two books in reading progress currently--see sidebar--and one at the ready to begin soon), love reading women authors and am always looking to expand my reading horizons by reading books in translation.  So, what's not to love about this? 

I only wish I had learned about this sooner and could have prepared.  Better (a little) late than never and I am a quick planner.  I'm already reading Andrea Japp's historical mystery, The Lady Agnes Mystery.  Not only is it translated from the French, but the translator, Lorenza Garcia, is also a woman.  The book was kindly passed on to me from the folks at Gallic Books.  If you've not discovered them, do take a look--I have a number of their other titles on my reading pile as well.

You can read all about WITMonth at Biblio: Life in Letters.  This is the second year Meytal has organized this with the aim of bringing women authors to the front--not just women authors in general, but world literature.  WITMonth is very laid back--read a book or many or just pass along the word and learn more about the lack of representation of women writers being translated, reviewed and receiving awards. If you read books in translation regularly, you will already know how few books (comparatively speaking) are translated into English, so it's rather sad to think that of that 3% only 30% is made up of women authors.

Biblio is a wonderful resource to use to orient yourself and get started.  Read more about it here, and if you need help deciding what to read you can check out her database of authors/books.  I am always on the look out for new-to-me books, so I look forward to exploring the list.  Since I have acquired quite a few of my own books, which sit here as yet unread--a quick glance around to see what I can come up with myself.  

To get started here are ten books from my own shelves of books written by women and translated into English:

Hunting and Gathering by Anna Gavalda, translated by Alison Anderson (French) "in her epic new novel of intimate lives-and filled with the "humanity and wit" (Marie Claire) that has made it a bestselling sensation in France-Gavalda explores the twists of fate that connect four people in Paris."

You Are Not Like Other Mothers by Angelika Schrobsdorff, translated by Steven Rendall (German) "the story of Else Krischner, a free spirited mother of three sons. The novel spans the first half of the 20th century, from World War I through the Jewish Else’s exile in Bulgaria during World War II. Multi-layered and epic in scope, the narrative incorporates numerous sub-plots and secondary characters to provide a richly rendered portrait of 20th century Europe."

The Devil's Whisper by Miyuki Miyabe, translated by Deborah Iwabuchi (Japanese) "Three deaths come in quick succession: one girl jumps from the roof of a six-story building; another falls in front of a train; and a third is hit by a late-night taxi. But how are they related? And are they accidents, suicides -- or murder?"

All Our Yesterdays by Natalia Ginzburg, translated by Angus Davidson (Italian) "This powerful novel is set against the background of Italy from 1939 to 1944, from the anxious months before the country entered the war, through the war years, to the allied victory with its trailing wake of anxiety, disappointment, and grief."

The American Girl by Monika Fagerholm, translated by Katarina Tucker (Swedish) "Crime mystery and gothic saga, social study and chronicle of the late sixties and early seventies, a portrait of the psyche of young girls on the cusp of sexual awakening, The American Girl is a bewitching glimpse of the human capacity for survival and for self-inflicted wounds."

One Night, Markovitch by Ayelet Gundar-Goshen, translated by Sondra Silverstein (Hebrew) "In the late 1930s, two men - Yaacov Markovitch, perennially unlucky in love, and Zeev Feinberg, virile owner of a lustrous moustache - are crossing the sea to marry women they have never met. They will rescue them from a Europe on the brink of catastrophe, bring them to the Jewish homeland and go their separate ways. But when Markovitch is paired with the beautiful Bella he vows to make her love him at any cost, setting in motion events that will change their lives in the most unexpected and capricious of ways."

Another Love by Erzsebet Galgoczi, translated by Ines Rieder and Felice Newman (Hungarian) "A woman journalist who exposes the hypocrisy of the Soviet-dominated press is found murdered. With a plot that could have been ripped from today’s headlines, Another Love offers “a finely balanced blend of entertainment and political commentary” (Publishers Weekly).  A great novel of the 1956 Hungarian uprising against the Soviets, Another Love is a classic of Eastern European literature."

The Japanese Lover by Isabel Allende, translated by Nick Caistor and Amanda Hopkinson (Spanish) This is actually due to be released in November but I have a review copy loaded onto my tablet as an ebook.  "an exquisitely crafted love story and multigenerational epic that sweeps from San Francisco in the present-day to Poland and the United States during the Second World War."

Butterflies in November by Audur Ava Olafsdottir, translated by Brian FitzGibbon (Icelandic) "a blackly comic, charming, and uplifting tale of friends and lovers, motherhood, and self-discovery."

The Jasmine Isle by Ioanna Karystiani, translated by Michael Eleftheriou (Greek) "A modern love story with the force of an ancient Greek tragedy. Set on the spectacular Cycladic island of Andros, The Jasmine Isle one of the finest literary achievements in contemporary Greek literature, recounts the story of the beautiful Orsa Saltaferos, sentenced to marry a man she doesn't love and to watch while the man she does love weds another."

I've not forgotten about my own summer reading project (and the book I'll get to choose-as yet undecided-as soon as I finish a couple on my nightstand), but I can't pass up an opportunity of reading a book in translation by a woman author.  I have lots of other books on my shelves that would work nicely, but this list is a taste and perhaps a starting place.  If I can finish Lady Agnes and read one other book this month, perhaps from this list or maybe something else, I'll be very happy indeed. 

Will you be reading along?  If so, what's on your nightstand?

Teaser Tuesday: Lee Miller & a Giveaway

This first time I traveled to San Francisco I saw the most amazing exhibit of artwork at the Legion of Honor by Man Ray and Lee Miller called Partners in Surrealism.  It piqued my curiosity about the woman who was both muse and artist.  She was a most intriguing woman going by a biography of her I read.  She was a complex woman with a complicated past.  An interesting woman whose life has also inspired novelist Dana Gynther to write a novel about her life beginning with her work as a model in 1920s Montparnasse--her relationship as muse, student and lover of Man Ray and coming into her own as an artist in her own right.

Simon and Schuster has kindly passed along a copy of Dana Gynther's novel, just out today, The Woman in the Photograph to give away here.  I'm afraid I can only offer this to US readers, so if you leave a comment below I'll drop your name in the hat for a chance to win.  I'll toss all the names together and pull one out on Saturday, so check back to see if you won.  Until then here is a little teaser from the novel:

"Lips pressed together in concentration, Lee sat under a gas lamp at a wooden table, tracing over a penciled design in India ink.  With deliberate strokes, she colored in the dark spaces around a stylized artichoke, the central detail of a High Renaissance hat.  She was finishing off her first batch of fashionworthy patterns--sketches made in the dim light of the Uffizi Gallery and the Pitti Palace, then inked over at the pensione--and was eager to send it to New York and be rid of it."

You can read a longer excerpt at Simon and Schuster.  Check out Dana Gynther's website here.