The Lying Life of Adults by Elena Ferrante

Posted October 15, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Contemporary / 6 Comments

Title: The Lying Life of Adults (Goodreads)
Author: Elena Ferrante
Translator: Ann Goldstein
Published: Europa Editions, 2020
Pages: 322
Genres: Contemporary
My Copy: Paperback

Buy: Amazon, Book Depository, Kindle, Wordery (or visit your local Indie bookstore)

What I love about reading Elena Ferrante is the way she is always writing about the experiences of women from a social-political standpoint. She always gives the reader a wide range of emotions and can make them feel uncomfortable with the situation but in a way that does not cause many to abandon her books. I have read all Ferrante’s works of adult fiction and was happy to see that my in-real-life book club was doing her latest release The Lying Life of Adults. Honestly, sometimes I think I go to my book club just to complain about the books we read, but I also attend to try and improve my ability to talk about literature with real life humans.

The Lying Life of Adults is the story of Giovanna, who is a young woman that is quickly discovering all the drama happening within her family. She learns why her father and her aunt Vittoria do not talk, and basically uncovers all the hostility and fighting that has been happening in the family all her life. This is not the easiest information to uncover, the adults all have their own side of the stories and they are all lying to make themselves look better in every situation. Ferrante’s books always deal with domestic drama and The Lying Life of Adults is no different, but what I really enjoyed about this novel, is the way it focuses on the lies.

It is hard to talk about The Lying Life of Adults without mentioning the Neapolitan series, those books got plenty of attention and will be the basis of all Ferrante critiques. Which is justifiable, the approach Elena Ferrante takes when writing really focuses heavily on the life of women living in Naples, particularly looking at sexism and domestic abuse. I find that The Lying Life of Adults seems to have similarities with The Story of a New Name, book two in the Neapolitan series. Both books have characters in the late teens, exploring the balance between family, love and academia. This journey fascinates me; I want to learn about young women discovering just how messed out their family is, while also realising how horrible men are, all while trying to decide their plans for the future.

Personally, I would have preferred if Elena Ferrante really dove into the psychological state of Giovanna. Not to mention the exploration into the feelings of attraction, sexuality, and emotion. There is so much that could have been unpacked if she wanted to really explore the damaging nature of these lies, and the effects they would have had on Giovanna’s outlook and future. I am fascinated for a deeper dive into the emotional damage, but I understand why Ferrante grazed over these topics. Not everyone wants to explore domestic abuse in so much detail and it would greatly change the tone of the novel.

If you have never read Elena Ferrante before, this might be a good place to start, I personally recommend The Days of Abandonment as a starting point, but this would work too. Fans of the Neapolitan series may not need any encouragement to check out The Lying Life of Adults but I hope you do. Obviously, I really enjoyed this novel, I think Ferrante is doing an excellent job at helping bring translated literature into the spotlight, thanks to the amazing work of Ann Goldstein.

Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica

Posted October 13, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Dystopia / 2 Comments

Title: Tender is the Flesh (Goodreads)
Author: Agustina Bazterrica
Translator: Sarah Moses
Published: Pushkin Press, 2017
Pages: 224
Genres: Dystopia
My Copy: Audiobook

Buy: Amazon, Book Depository, Kindle, Wordery (or visit your local Indie bookstore)

Tender is the Flesh was released at the perfect time, with the current global pandemic, a novel about a virus that changes the way we look at the world. Agustina Bazterrica’s novel primarily follows Marcos, who works in a slaughterhouse producing ‘special meat’. When the virus hit, all animals were infected andtheir meat became poisonous. The government had to make some changes to the law, now it was legal to buy ‘special meat’ – human meat.

This is a weird dystopian novel that has one very basic message that really sticks in your brain. The concept of giving up meat is so ridiculous that the country starts producing humans that will be used as meat. These are not people; they are cattle and are treated in that way. The concept of giving up meat and turning vegan is too preposterous for the country. Cannibalism becomes the norm.

The idea behind the novel seems to be focusing on just how cruel humans are, going to great detail to explain the process used to prepare meat at a slaughterhouse and the treatment of animals (in this case humans). Tender is the Flesh takes it a step further, with the retirement homes advertising the security they offer for your elderly relatives to protect them from being slaughtered and eaten. The world population drastically declines, and people have lost the ability to be caring or loving to others around them.

That is the entire premise, Tender is the Flesh takes a simple idea and plays out the situation. The way people turn on each other, the way people change their views on society and the ridiculous notion of becoming vegan. This is a dark comedy set in a dystopian world and executed with perfection. I cannot say that this converted me to becoming a vegan, but I think I honestly need to make more of an effort. An ugly look at our consumeristic culture and here I am, still wrestling with the idea of protecting the animals…I hate myself, but I think this novel achieved its goals.

The Yield by Tara June Winch

Posted October 9, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Historical Fiction / 6 Comments

Title: The Yield (Goodreads)
Author: Tara June Winch
Published: Penguin Random House, 2019
Pages: 343
Genres: Historical Fiction
My Copy: Audiobook

Buy: Amazon, Book Depository, Kindle, Wordery (or visit your local Indie bookstore)

While my interest in reading sides more with translated literature, I still read books from local authors. This is mainly as a result of my in-real-life book club that I attend, although I this year has seen more American crime novels sneak into my reading life than the norm. This is the reason I recently read Tara June Winch’s latest novel The Yield. The novel tells a story from three different perspectives and how choices made multiple generations ago still effect people now.

I am unsure if I am out of practice, or just not sure what to say, but I having a hard time trying to put all my thoughts on this book down on paper. Basically, The Yield tells the story of August Gondiwindi who has returned home for her grandfather’s funeral. Knowing he was about to die, he had written down the experiences he had living near the Murrumby River at Prosperous House, on Massacre Plains and a dictionary he was constructing of Wiradjuri words. The third narrative is letters from a German Lutheran missionary, Reverend Greenleaf talking about the early years of the settlers.

These three narratives tell the story of the lasting effects of colonialism, the intergenerational trauma and how it effects the people and the land. I find it had to talk about this novel, but I think this is an important novel to read, especially for white Australia. The narrative from Reverend Greenleaf stood out, due to the way he tried to help the true owners of the land and protect them from greedy white settlers but not every choice he made felt right. He came across as a white saviour, because he was imposing his own values on these people. When World War I hit, he was met with his own hostility from white settlers as a German.

August’s story is the primary plot, and it is interesting that she plays the role of an outsider, someone that has moved away. Tara June Winch is based in France, so the narrative of August feels like it might be autobiographical in the way she might feel, I do not know her story, but I get the sense based on this novel, she might be treated as an outsider for being an Aboriginal to the white people, but treated as an outsider to her country for leaving. This is how I feel August’s narrative works, she still sees herself as part of her community and tries to help but there are people that do not trust her and treat her like an outsider.

Within the August narrative, the area of Massacre Plains is under threat from a mining company that wants to dig up their land for tin. A very relevant topic for Australia, since Rio Tinto has recently demolished a 46,000-year-old Aboriginal site, and they are not the sole culprits. It is said mining giants BHP Billiton have destroyed at least 40 significant Aboriginal sites in the past year. The mining industry in Australia is big business but the cultural damage they are doing to the different Aboriginal lands is beyond reproach.

Essentially The Yield is a novel about the psychological and cultural damage facing the different Aboriginal communities around Australia. You get to see the effects of colonialism, and the damage that is done to these people, plus the current degradation being done by the Australian government and the mining companies that pay those politicians. However, in the midst of all that, Tara June Winch has crafted a stunning novel that is funnier than I expected based on the subject matter. The Yield has been a big success in the Australian literary scene, it even won the 2020 Miles Franklin Literary Award, which is Australia’s highest literary award. The novel is showing up around the world and I hope it has just as much a success there; this really is a great book.

Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami

Posted October 7, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Contemporary / 0 Comments

Title: Breasts and Eggs (Goodreads)
Author: Mieko Kawakami
Translator: Sam Bett, David Boyd
Published: Picador, 2020
Pages: 430
Genres: Contemporary
My Copy: Paperback

Buy: Amazon, Book Depository, Kindle, Wordery (or visit your local Indie bookstore)

After reading Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo (translated by Jamie Chang), I moved on to Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami (which is translated from the Japanese by Sam Bett & David Boyd). These two books seem to pair nicely with each other; one explores the everyday sexism that woman face, while the other is a look at fertility and body image issues. However, I am not the right person to talk about Breasts and Eggs, and I only choose to write down my thoughts as a way for my own personal recollection. This is a sensitive topic and having a male reviewer explore the topic feels wrong, like a male author writing about female sexuality.

Mieko Kawakami originally wrote Breast and Eggs as a novella, which was later rewritten into the novel that has recently been released. This is the story of three women, the unnamed narrator in her mid-thirties, her older sister Makiko, and Makiko’s twelve-year-old daughter, Midoriko. Three women at different stages in their lives, exploring the issues of motherhood, fertility and their bodies. These three narratives allow the author to explore a range of body issues, Makiko is unhappy with her breasts and is having breast enhancement surgery. Not just enlargements but she wants to change her nipples, make them pink. Midoriko is going through puberty and is unable to express her insecurities about her changing body. While the unnamed narrator wants to become a mother, but Japanese reproductive laws only apply to married heterosexual women that are unable to conceive.

As you can see, this novel explores so many important issues and as a man, I do not feel like it is my place to weigh in on these topics. Women have enough problems with men trying to dictate their lives. However, I did find it fascinating to explore the struggles these women are facing and the way they try to navigate through their lives. This is a book about the repression woman face in Japan, but like Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, I think this is a much more universal problem.

Breast and Eggs has so much to offer and so many issues to explore. I really liked that the narrator explored the idea of asexuality but was still interested in motherhood. She was aromantic but still wanted to be a parent and was looking at options on how to achieve that. I do not think I have ever read a novel about an ace’s journey into becoming a mum and it really highlights just how important it is to explore the different struggles people face from around the world. I read translated literature for this reason, I want to see the different social experiences, as well as the similarities. This is why we need representation from people all over the world, and the LGBTQI+ community.

I really hope that I was able to verbalise my thoughts on Breast and Eggs without overstepping my mark. While this is a book that women should be talking about and reviewing, I still think it is important for men to read as well. I simply want to write my thoughts on this book, so I have a record of my feelings; I post reviews on my blog to document my reading journal. I hope I am not offending anyone by talking about Breast and Eggs.

Importance of Book Reviews

Posted October 2, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Literature / 12 Comments

I consider myself a reader, but I am not well-read. (Will I ever be well-read?). I have only been a reader for eleven years and in that time, I have slowly discovered my literary tastes. I know I want to learn something from the literature I read, and I know I prefer to read books from around the world. When I started my reading journey, I used the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die book as a guide to try out literature and discover my tastes. I had this idea that maybe I would read every book listed but now that I have a better idea of what I like, I have abandoned that plan.

I have often written about my reading journey, because I find it useful to track the way I have changed as a reader and as a writer. However, now that I have not written many blog posts for a while, I have noticed just how valuable they are for my own personal reminders. I want to become more than a book reviewer; I want to improve my style as a both a writer and a book critic. Recently, I have discovered how useful book reviews have become for my own personal reflection.

In this past year or two, I have not written many reviews and I now I am paying for it. When someone starts talking about a book, it is useful to reflect on your own thoughts. I have friends recently read Vengeance is Mine, All Others Pay Cash by Eka Kurniawan (which was translated from the Indonesian by Annie Tucker). I have vague recollections of enjoying it, but that was hundreds of books ago. Without a review, I struggle to recollect my thoughts to discuss the novel with others.

This might be useful when it comes to re-reading a book. I am currently in the middle of a re-read of Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky but this time I am reading the Oliver Ready translation. I have a review of the David McDuff translation of the book from 2012, which means once I finish my re-read, I can look at my old review and see how much my thoughts have changed. I can see the different themes that worked for me, maybe even see how my own literary analysis has changed. I have discovered, one of the joys of re-reading translated classics is the fact that you can test out new translators and have a completely different experience with the text.

While I have a YouTube channel, and host the Lost in Translations podcast (I even recently joined TikTok), I am not a fan of my own voice. Which means, I am not likely to go back and see my thoughts on a book if my review is in a video format. Also, I do not think I am making good content on YouTube. Although, I think the advantage of the podcast is having a discussion with someone else. These mediums are not great for going back and reflecting on my thoughts on a book. I think I prefer the written word as a way to record my thoughts. My YouTube channel was created as a way to practise verbalising my own thoughts, but I have doubts about any improvement. The podcast was just a fun way to talk with others about translated literature (and I am looking for guests if you are interested) and with Twitter, Instagram or TikTok, I think it is just a way to be more social about translations. My main focus obviously needs to be the written word, since it seems to have the most value to me and my future self.

Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo

Posted September 30, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Contemporary / 6 Comments

Title: Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 (Goodreads)
Author: Cho Nam-Joo
Translator: Jamie Chang
Published: Scribner, 2016
Pages: 163
Genres: Contemporary
My Copy: Paperback

Buy: Amazon, Book Depository, Kindle, Wordery (or visit your local Indie bookstore)

When you find a book that you want to share with everyone, and talk about constantly, you know you have found a new favourite. This is my experience with Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo, which has recently been translated from the Korean by Jamie Chang. I loved this novel so much, I re-read it, with only Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami (translated by Sam Bett & David Boyd) separating the two. While it makes for a great book pairing. Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 follows an ordinary woman expressing her life to a psychiatrist. It is a very simple plot but allows Cho Nam-Joo to explore the everyday sexism woman face throughout their lives.

This is a novel exploring the gender inequalities facing women in South Korea today, but really this feels like issues facing women all around the world. While preparing to write this review, I saw the synopsis on GoodReads that started with “Kim Jiyoung is the most common name for Korean women born in the 1980s. Kim Jiyoung is representative of her generation.” This idea that it is a generational issue made me wonder, is the world getting better? Because the evidence of improvement is sadly lacking.

Kim Jiyoung is depressed.
Kim Jiyoung has started acting out.
Kim Jiyoung is her own woman.
Kim Jiyoung is insane.

I wanted to reference the above quote from the same synopsis because I think it is a reflection of the problems being faced in this novel. I am not a psychiatrist so I will not be diagnosing Kim Jiyoung in the review, but I will say that I disagree. She was sent to the psychiatrist by her husband and the book reads as a clinical assessment of the everywoman. Although I tend to think that both the husband and the psychiatrist are the problems, and not Kim Jiyoung. She might be suffering depression but then you have to diagnose all women with depression. She is not acting out; she is fighting to be heard and she is definitely not insane. Finally, why is Kim Jiyoung being her own woman a bad thing?

What I love is just how worked up I get while reading (or writing about) Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. However, this is a reason while I have been told by a few women that they hated this book. I was told a few times “I don’t need to read this book, I’ve lived it” which is understandable, not everyone wants to read about the sexism they experience every day. This is the type of book all men need to read but I do worry that like the husband and the psychiatrist, they might miss the point.

We can talk about all the incidents that happen in this novel, but that would be the entire book. The ones that stick with me the most is start with an incident in school where a boy is picking on Kim Jiyoung and causes her to get in trouble with the teacher. Later the teacher apologised to her and told her that he picked on her because he liked her, which made no sense to Kim Jiyoung. Next there she was denied a promotion at work because they thought she will get pregnant and leave the company and finally the way her own husband pressured her into having a child. While these incidents in the novel might make you angry, these three moments stuck with me the most. There is no reason these three should stand out more than all the other issues, they just encapsulates the sexism women face in childhood, their work life and by loved ones.

Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 is a quick read that really focuses on the everyday sexism that really needs to be stamped out. The novel references to some horrifying statistics facing women in South Korea, like the fact they are ranked 108^th in the world in the Global Pay Gap Index, with women getting paid 67.2% of what men get paid. Australia is ranked 44^th with women getting paid 73.1%, and Iceland has the best score but still women get paid 87.7% of what men get paid (I pulled these stats from the 2020 Global Gender Gap report put out by the World Economic Forum). This is a book that will stick with me for a long time, and I hope it helps myself and other men improve in the way we treat others around them, not just women but all genders.

Nada by Jean-Patrick Manchette

Posted September 28, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Pulp / 4 Comments

Title: Nada (Goodreads)
Author: Jean-Patrick Manchette
Translator: Donald Nicholson-Smith
Published: NYRB Classics, 1972
Pages: 256
Genres: Pulp
My Copy: Paperback

Buy: Amazon, Book Depository, Kindle (or visit your local Indie bookstore)

My reading tastes have changed so much in the few years that I have been a reader. When I first discovered my love of reading 11 years ago, I loved crime novels and that eventually led me to discover noir and hard-boiled fiction. Nowadays I spend the majority of my time reading translated literature, but I sometimes turn to crime for some palette cleansers, because that is what they are. The problem I find is that American authors seem to be the best at writing the crime novels I enjoy; it must be related to their crime rates and frivolous gun laws. There is one French author that I think bridges my two loves, pulp novels and translations, and that is Jean-Patrick Manchette (I am sure there are others, I am just yet to discover them).

Not to brag, but I recently read Nada while staying in a gorgeous treehouse up in the Atheron Tablelands. Nada is a leftist revolutionary/anarchist group that decides to kidnap the United States Ambassador to France while he is visiting a brothel. As you can imagine from a noir novel, things do not turn out too well. I do not want to explore the plot because I much prefer to explore themes when talking about literature. Besides, rehashing the plot is more for the back of a book, not a review.

What I was surprised to discover with Nada, was the way Manchette added so much political and social commentary into the novel without taking away from the fast, action paced plot. Relevant to today’s political climate, this group of anarchists wanted to send a message to the right. The problem was that each member had their own motivations besides making money. What fascinated me here was the way Jean-Patrick Manchette played with the concept of political terrorism and revolutionaries. Depending on your political beliefs these are two sides of the same coin. I was drawn to the disarray of the anarchist group, and to me it became a reflection of the problem the left-wing often faces, which is an insurmountable amount of social issues that need to be corrected in this world. Both Jean-Patrick Manchette and I are leftists, however my political ideology might be very different to Manchettes. Where the right-wing has a much smaller amount of concerns when it comes to political and social issues, meaning they tend to appear more united.

The way Manchette plays with this idea in the concept of a noir novel was masterful. At no point did he take the foot off the gas to explore these social issues, Nada was always a fast-paced thrill ride. He was skilful enough to add his ideas into the book for people interested in dissecting the plot. While I spent so much time thinking about the social commentary, other readers might find this to just be an entertaining crime novel. I am impressed at the way Jean-Patrick Manchette was able to achieve this in his writing.

This was not my first attempt at Jean-Patrick Manchette, I have read The Gunman (which was translated by James Brook) in 2018 and it did not give me the same level of enjoyment. I could not tell you if it was not a great novel or if I did not look hard enough to find the deeper meaning. I am often drawn to books that offer more than an exciting plot and I found that in Nada, but not in The Gunman. Donald Nicholson-Smith appears to be translating all of Jean-Patrick Manchette’s books for NYRB Classics and I am tempted to try them all. I do have Fatale, The Mad and the Bad and Ivory Pearl on my shelves, but not sure which to try next.

Vernon Subutex Trilogy by Virginie Despentes

Posted September 24, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Contemporary / 2 Comments

Title: Vernon Subutex Trilogy (Goodreads)
Author: Virginie Despentes
Translator: Frank Wynne
Published: MacLehose Press, 2017-2020
Pages: 1088
Genres: Contemporary
My Copy: Paperback

Buy: Amazon, Book Depository, Kindle, Wordery (or visit your local Indie bookstore)

How many translated series can you think of? Apart from Proust, or Elena Ferrante or Karl Ove Knausgård. Maybe, there are more than I expected; Virginie Despentes’ trilogy Vernon Subutex is currently the most talked about, with book three just being released in English. This trilogy started off as a cutting-edge look into the punk sub-culture of France but slowly, with each book the focus shifted, stepping away from the music industry, towards a mystery in book two and finally the third novel focusing more on a cult-like community. While Vernon Subutex is the focus of this trilogy, I found that the different styles of each novel become a little disconcerting for myself.

Virginie Despentes draws from her own career in these books, I suspect using some of her own experiences to drive the plot. Before becoming a novelist, she worked in a few fields including as a sex worker and a pornographic film critic. While these careers play a part in the Vernon Subutex trilogy along the way, it started with her experiences as a salesclerk in a record store and a freelance rock journalist. It is these aspects that I found the most fascinating, my love of music (particularly punk rock) really drew me to this series in the first place.

I loved how the first novel focused on the music, Vernon Subutex started working in this record store in his twenties. The store was legendary back in the days, but now thanks to the internet and digital music it is struggling. Even Vernon Subutex himself has a cult-like status (which plays out more later in the series) with people on the internet speculating that he owned the last recordings of musician Alex Bleach. What I loved the most about Vernon Subutex 1 was reading about the industry and exploring the dark side of the punk culture, from the violence and drug abuse often associated with this culture to the less talked about racism and sexism.

Unfortunately, the books slowly digressed away from exploring the punk scene, and maybe my interest did as well. That is not to disregard books Two or Three, my interest was the scene and I was less interested in following the character Vernon Subutex. The first novel focused on the punk scene, whereas book two focused on this one character and a small group of people around him, a group that have banded together at a bar in the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont. While the plot of Vernon Subutex 2 focuses more on what happened to the lost tapes of Alex Bleach, I was more interested in themes than plot, so this became a book about class struggle.

This group of people hanging in the Parc des Buttes-Chaumont turned into a cult, which leads to the third novel of this trilogy, where Vernon Subutex has become a spiritual leader to the group. The final book in the series, for me is the weakest, but it was clear Virginie Despentes knew what she was doing and where she wanted to take this journey. There was a strong focus on social struggles that plays out here, focusing more on homelessness and the way these people banded together. The cast of characters slowly shrinks with each book, but I really like how Despentes brings in new characters and then they disappear after a short period of time. This might frustrate many, but I found it natural; sometimes you meet someone, and they are only in your life for a small period of time, they might make an impact but then they are gone.

Vernon Subutex 3 was more political, with the 2015 Charles Hebdo shootings playing a part of the plot. The satirical papers controversial depictions of Muhammad are believed to be the cause of that attack. However, it was Michel Houellebecq that was on the cover of the magazine when this attack happened. I bring this up because I find Virginie Despentes and Houellebecq have similar styles. Both are satirical French authors that make me question myself and their writing style. They leave me with an unease while reading them and I spend time contemplating their satirical nature. I even find myself wondering if they are actually satirical or just overdoing the transgressive. This is not easy reading and knowledge of the punk scene and modern French history became vital aspects of my appreciation of Vernon Subutex.

When I think about the writing of Virginie Despentes, I have a similar feeling as when I think about Michel Houellebecq, I am unsure how I feel about them as authors. I have read five Despentes novels and while I enjoyed the Vernon Subutex trilogy, I find it hard to fully appreciate her works. Her writing is a combination of the thriller genre, but it tends to be overly transgressive. I am not trying to be negative, just not the style of literature I tend to enjoy. I am curious to know more about Despentes’ life and might read her feminist manifesto King Kong Theory, which like the Vernon Subutex trilogy has been translated by the legendary Frank Wynne.

Returning to Blogging and My #WITMonth Plans

Posted August 6, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Literature / 12 Comments

I have somehow fallen off the blogging bandwagon, which really disappoints me. I love this blog; I have had it for eleven years now and I think it has been a great reflection of how much I have changed as a reader. There was a time where I considered myself a literary explorer, I would read from all genres, trying to find what I like and did not like. I used the 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die list as a guide to try out books and discover my reading personality. I think I have found it now; I want to read the world. Translated literature has become my focus and I tend to navigate towards women in translation because I realise just how easy it is to throw off the gender balance in my reading. This is not by desire but more the fact that around a third of all books being translated into English are by women, which means that if I don’t focus on women in translation my reading balance will be all wrong.

There was a time when I thought people should read whatever they want and while this is true, we need to also be aware just how biased our own reading can become. If I look at my reading spreadsheet, 35% of all the books I have read (since 2009) were women. However, last year 79% were from female authors, this gives you an indication of just how messed up my reading balance was in the past and how much of a struggle it can be to get that balance back to an acceptable level. This is why events like #WITMonth have become an important part of my reading life, but I do think it is more #WITForever for me. Also, it is just so great to see readers talking about translated literature and reading the world. Not to mention the fact that these are books I am interested in and want more people to discover how great it is to read outside of US and UK literature.

I tend not to plan my reading, I find it hard to read on a schedule and I know I am very much a mood reader, but I did pull out a pile of women in translation books that I would like to focus on and thought it might be a good idea to list them here as a way to promote #WITMonth and maybe get suggestions on which to prioritise. I did make a YouTube video on the same topic, but this list includes audiobooks and ebooks as well.

Here is my list;

The Book of Anna by Carmen Boullosa (translated by Samantha Schnee) – I am currently reading this one because of the 2MR podcast
Breasts and Eggs by Mieko Kawakami (translated by Sam Bett & David Boyd)
Bright by Duanwad Pimwana (translated by Mui Poopoksakul)
Claudine in Paris by Colette (translated by Antonia White)
Go, Went, Gone by Jenny Erpenbeck (translated by Susan Bernofsky)
Malina by Ingeborg Bachmann (translated by Philip Boehm)
Katalin Street by Magda Szabó (translated by Len Rix)
The Notebook by Ágota Kristóf (translated by Alan Sheridan)
Sidewalks by Valeria Luiselli (translated by Christina MacSweeney)
A Winter Book by Tove Jansson (multiple translators)
A Man’s Place by Annie Ernaux (translated by Tanya Leslie) – I wanted to read another Ernaux and this was her highest rated on Goodreads so just picked that one
Last Witnesses by Svetlana Alexievich (translated by Richard Pevear & Larissa Volokhonsky)
Tender Is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica (translated by Sarah Moses)
Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 by Cho Nam-Joo (translated by Jamie Chang)
Inheritance from Mother by Minae Mizumura (translated by Juliet Winters Carpenter)
The Unit by Ninni Holmqvist (translated by Marlaine Delargy)
Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector (translated by Alison Entrekin)
Fieldwork in Ukrainian Sex by Oksana Zabuzhko (translated by Halyna Hryn)
Dark Constellations by Pola Oloixarac (translated by Roy Kesey)
Gourmet Rhapsody by Muriel Barbery (translated by Alison Anderson)

Movie Review: Midsommar (2019)

Posted August 5, 2020 by Michael @ Knowledge Lost in Movie-Horror / 2 Comments

Title: Midsommar
Released: 2019
Director: Ari Aster
Stars: Florence Pugh, Jack Reynor
Genre: Folk Horror

I have spent a large amount of time lately thinking about Ari Aster’s film Midsommar; it has been awhile since I first saw it and it won’t leave my head. The basic premise follows a group of anthropology students that make their way to Hårga, in Hälsingland for the midsummer festival. Dani Ardor (Florence Pugh) was reluctantly invited along by her boyfriend Christian (Jack Reynor) after the sudden death of her sister and parents. The festival turns out to be unlike anything, completely unimaginable. An outsider may call it inhuman, but to an anthropology student, a gold mine of a topic for their thesis.

This community we see in Midsommar continually plays with these ideals we have in how people should act by spiralling deeper and deeper into the bizarre. While there is no real evidence of some of these rituals existing, Ari Aster has blended a lot of old Swedish and Norse mythology to create the Hårga commune. Breaking down the iconology alone would offer some interesting insights into this film; if I was a more skilled critic, I would go into those details but instead I will refer you to an interesting video on the topic by Wisecrack.

What I want to focus on, is what Midsommar is saying about personal relationships. At the start of the film we find out that Dani’s sister Terri has killed herself along with their parents. We don’t know much as to why, but it is implied that it may be due to a lack of a support network. We know Dani’s support network is lacking as well, as she relies heavily on her emotionally distant boyfriend. In fact, he had planned to break up with Dani before the trip but she was invited by one of his friends in a moment of sympathy. On the other hand, we have this cult-like community that supports each other in everything. The elderly willingly throw themselves off a cliff when they have outgrown their use and there are multiple examples of them sharing in each other’s pleasure and pain. When an old man doesn’t die on impact after throwing himself off the cliff, the community join in on his anguish. During a weird mating ritual, the woman moan in unison with Maja. This commune becomes increasingly more appealing to Dani as a source of comfort and support.

The fact that Dani’s boyfriend is named Christian should not be a surprise either. While Christianity is meant to be about community and a deep personal relationship with God, many don’t have that kind of experience. Christianity can feel like a dysfunctional relationship with an emotionally distant partner, especially when they are going through something so tragic as the loss of an entire family. In that moment we would all crave love and support like Dani. She received everything she craved from the Hårga commune.

I have heard that the genesis of this film was that Ari Aster was commission by the Swedish film industry to develop a horror film, but he was in the middle of a bad breakup and wanted to write about that. So, he combined the two and come up with Midsommar. His anger really comes through in the film and I think the way he blended the two will benefit his writing in the future, in the sense that he has stumbled across a winning formula. It is obvious that he sees himself as the character Dani Ardor, I mean the similarities to his own name feels like he didn’t even try to hide this fact. Also makes me wonder how his ex feels about being portrayed as a character like Christian. Knowing this fact, I think really helped me understand the ending of the film.

I don’t know much about the technical style of cinema, but I have to say this is a beautiful film. The way Pawel Pogorzelski did the cinematography was breathtaking. There are a few scenes that really stand out to me but the one that comes to mind is the transition in which Dani runs to the bathroom crying and it cuts to the bathroom in an airplane. The transition really stuck with me, it also was a great way to show that Dani’s grief is still affecting her in the same way a few weeks later.

I love this film and I wish I had the skills to analyse it further. I might write more about Midsommar in the future, but I am feeling a need to write about great cinema, possibly with a focus on world cinema as it ties in nicely with my translated literature obsession, but this film demanded an essay. I probably will not be watching Ari Aster’s other film Hereditary, but I am curious to see what he comes up with next. Also, I am a big fan of Florence Pugh and will follow her career closely; if you haven’t seen her in anything else, I highly recommend Lady Macbeth. Let me know what you thought of Midsommar, and if you have any recommendations similar to this film.

For a book recommendation to pair with Midsommar, I suggest Death in Spring by Mercè Rodoreda (translated from the Catalan by Martha Tennent), it has a similar style of weird traditions and nature.