Showing posts with label books in translation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books in translation. Show all posts

Friday, July 21, 2023

Review: Days at the Morisaki Bookshop (by Satoshi Yagisawa)

My Rating:  3 stars

I was drawn to this story initially because of the bookish premise.  After twenty five year old Takako loses her boyfriend and her job in the span of a day, she has nowhere else to turn — so when her uncle Satoru invites her to stay in a room above his Morisaki bookshop in exchange for helping him watch the shop several hours a day, Takako agrees, even though she has never been a reader and has no interest in books.  When she arrives at the location of her family's bookshop in Jimbocho, she finds that the area is actually a book lover's paradise where "everywhere you turned, there was another bookshop."  At the Morisaki bookshop, Takako is (literally) surrounded by books day and night — not surprisingly, she also encounters various people who love to read.  Pretty soon, Takako experiences for herself the healing power of books, but more significantly, her stay at the bookshop ends up changing her life in ways she never thought possible.

This was a simple, quiet story filled with eccentric yet endearing characters that you couldn't help but love — for me, these were the main strengths of the book.  Unfortunately, the execution didn't quite work for me, as the writing felt choppy and stilted, with some sections sounding really awkward to read.  The pacing also felt off, with the two parts that the story was divided into feeling like two different books, which kind of threw me off a bit.  I'm not sure if something was lost in translation or the original work was written this way, but I just felt like there was more potential to the story than was tapped into.  And I must admit that I was a tad disappointed with the second half of the story veering away from the bookish aspects that played such a huge role in the first half.

Overall, this was an "okay" read.  I enjoyed some aspects over others and definitely felt the first half of the story was much stronger. This is an instance where I wish I knew Japanese so I could check out the original work and see if the experience would be different.  Ah well, that's how things go, I guess.

Received ARC from Harper Perennial via NetGalley.

Sunday, July 16, 2023

Review: The Postcard (by Anne Berest)

My Rating: 4 stars

This was a unique read for me — not in terms of subject matter of course, as I've read plenty of books over the years about World War II from various perspectives as well as about the Holocaust. Rather, the "uniqueness" of this particular reading experience had to do with the format of the story, which was a combination of historical fiction and autobiography that I honestly had never encountered before. The formatting of the story wasn't exactly seamless, as the switching between first, second, and third person narrative, plus some of the dialogue and wording used made it relatively easy to tell which parts were historical and which parts were biographical. Also, there were quite a few references to exact addresses, dates, titles, and direct quotes/references from research material inserted throughout the story (especially in the first two-thirds of the book) that sometimes made it feel like I was reading a history textbook instead of a novel. Though these things were distracting and did take me out of the story at times, fortunately the storytelling overall was compelling enough that, after awhile, I became absorbed in the story and stopped thinking about the format as much.

The story is actually based on the author Anne Berest's own family history and the mysterious postcard that her mother Lelia received in January 2003 with four names on it: Ephraim, Emma, Noemie, Jacques. Ephraim and Emma Rabinovitch were Lelia's grandparents (her mother Myriam was their eldest daughter), while Noemie and Jacques were her aunt and uncle (Myriam's siblings) — all four of them had died in Auschwitz in 1942. Lelia's mother Myriam had survived the war, but had died 8 years prior (in 1995). The postcard is put away in a drawer and forgotten about until years later, when something happens in Anne's life that moves her to investigate the origins of the postcard (who sent it and why). With the help of her mother Lelia as well as several others, Anne sets out on a journey to piece together her family history in the hopes that it will lead her to the truth.

Given the subject matter, this was undoubtedly a difficult read at times. The scenes describing the atrocities of war and the aftermath were especially hard to stomach, to the point that I had to put the book down for a bit to regain my bearings in order to continue on with the rest of the story. Majority of the story took place in France and there was a lot of detail about the French government's role in helping to perpetuate the Holocaust through their actions of arresting and deporting Jews (oftentimes in collaboration with the Nazi regime in Germany) — which was an interesting angle that I haven't seen explored often.

The novel itself was actually written in French originally, but the English translation was so well done that it was honestly hard to tell (if I hadn't already known going into this one that it was a translation, I would've never guessed). Like I mentioned earlier, this one actually crossed several genres (historical, contemporary, literary, biography, etc.) but the "mystery" at its core, with Anne trying to find out who sent the postcard, was one of the elements that kept me turning the pages. Also, despite the page count (my hard cover version was exactly 475 pages), plus I had figured out early on who sent the postcard and why (I was actually surprised how spot on my theory was), at no point did that diminish my appreciation of the story.

Again, with the heaviness of the subject matter, this was not an easy read by any means and not surprisingly, it did take a bit of an emotional toll on me. Nevertheless, I still recommend this one, as it's both a necessary and timely read given some of the things happening in society currently. I'm glad I ghost the chance to read this and I hope more people will as well.

Sunday, January 29, 2023

Review: The Piano Tuner (by Chiang-Sheng Kuo)

My Rating:  3 stars

I don't remember how this book got onto my radar, as I'm not as familiar with Taiwanese literature as I am with Hong Kong literature, but seeing that this was a short novella, I decided to pick it up last minute as a way to round out my January reads.  

Overall, this was a good story, but a bit confusing and hard to follow.  The structure was a nonlinear one that jumped back and forth in time, which normally wouldn't be too much of a problem, but this one also happened to jump back and forth between first person and third person narrative voice as well (a few times, it jumped to second person too, which completely baffled me) — both of these things combined, along with the lack of distinctive breaks between the narration, plus lyrical prose that bordered on abstract in some places, made this an unnecessarily exhausting and tedious read.  The entire story was narrated by the eponymous piano tuner, but presented in snippets of his thoughts that seemed to run together jumbled between his past and current lives, making it difficult to truly understand what was going on at times with the story.

It also didn't help that the ending was very abrupt — the type of ending that seemed to stop in the middle of a thought —  to the point that I thought perhaps I was missing a few pages of the book (which, thinking about it now, is still possible, as the version I read was an ARC that I downloaded several months back, which, according to my e-reader, ended at the 99% mark and didn't have any other pages after it, not even an acknowledgments page).  

I think this had the potential to be a meaningful, emotionally nuanced story, but the structure and the switching of the voices was too distracting and unfortunately drowned out that part of the story.   Perhaps it would've been better for me to read this one in its original language (Chinese) rather than the translated version, as I honestly can't help but feel that maybe something got lost in translation somewhere.  While I don't regret reading this one, plus there were actually some elements of it that I really liked (such as the parts where the narrator talks about the piano pieces and the interesting backstories of the artists), the experience overall was underwhelming.  If I'm able to find the Chinese version, maybe I'll try that and see if my experience is any different…for now though, this definitely more of a borderline 3 star read for me.

Received ARC from Arcade Books via Edelweiss.

Wednesday, November 4, 2020

Review: A Single Swallow (by Zhang Ling) - translated by Shelly Bryant

My Rating: 4 stars

 

I'm not much of a "themed" reader (not deliberately anyway), so I consider it pure coincidence that I happened to pick up this book to read the day before Halloween.  To clarify, this book is not a "spooky" read by any means, neither is it any genre even remotely related to this holiday – rather, the "coincidence" I am referring to is the fact that this story is narrated entirely by "ghosts." Actually, to put it more precisely, from the moment the story opens in 2015, the 3 main characters – American missionary Pastor Billy, Chinese solider Liu Zhaohu, and gunner's mate Ian Ferguson – are already dead.  Pastor Billy died 70 years ago (in 1945), Liu Zhaohu joined him 18 years later (in 1963), and together, they waited another 52 years before Ian Ferguson was able to join them on that exact date -- August 15th, 2015.  Now, before anyone starts chiding me for supposedly revealing "spoilers," let me just say that all of the above is already revealed within the first few pages of the book – to that point, the entire basis of the story harkens back to a pact that the 3 men made on that day in 1945 when Japanese Emperor Hirohito announced (via radio broadcast) Japan's surrender to Allied Forces, effectively bringing an end to World War II.    Stationed in the small village of Yuehu, China at the time of the announcement, the 3 men make a pledge on that historic day stipulating that, after their deaths, their souls would return to Yuehu every year on the anniversary of the broadcast – however, due to the 3 of them dying at different times, it isn't until 70 years later that they are finally able to fulfill the pledge they made so long ago.  As the 3 of them come together to reminisce about a war that changed the course of their lives forever, it soon becomes clear that each of their stories is tied to that of one woman whom all of them loved but lost, and it is her life that's truly the focus here.   This woman, whose given name from birth is Yao Guiyan, is simultaneously known to Liu Zhaohu as Ah Yan (or "swallow"), to Pastor Billy as Stella (meaning "star"), and to Ian Ferguson as Wende (transliteration of "wind").  Ah Yan's impact on these 3 men is profound -- despite the atrocities and suffering she endures in the face of a horrific war, she not only finds the courage to survive, but does so with remarkable grace and humanity.  It is through the memories of this extraordinary woman that these 3 "ghosts", scarred by the lasting effects of war, are able to finally understand the truths of what they experienced and reconcile the regrets of their pasts.

 

Knowing that the story is set during a time period of immense devastation and tragedy in World War II, I braced myself for a sad and difficult read going into this one – while both of these did ring true (the atrocities committed by the Japanese army were especially hard to read), this also turned out to be a story of resilience, courage, hope, and ultimately, the redemptive power of love, which thankfully helped to balance out the story in the end.  I found the structure of the story an interesting one – each chapter is alternately narrated by 3 dead men, with 1 chapter in the middle narrated by 2 dogs (yes, you read that correctly) that also played significant roles in the story.  Given this setup, this book definitely doesn't fit nicely into one category in terms of genre – I felt that this fell more into the historical fiction genre, with elements of magical realism mixed in, which altogether put a unique spin to the story that made this a different reading experience for me.  What I liked most though, is that the author Zhang Ling (a Chinese author based in Canada), in experimenting with form and structure, didn't neglect the cultural elements that are so critical in a story such as this one.  I read quite a bit of historical fiction, since it's one of my favorite genres, and one of the things I always look for is a strong sense of time and place, to the point that I feel transported, as though living the same events alongside the characters.  Having said that, when it comes to historical fiction within the context of a culture that I'm familiar with, I'm also a stickler for getting the cultural aspects right -- which I'll admit I was worried about with this book once I learned that the story was originally written in Chinese and later translated into English.  Perhaps because of my background, I understand first-hand how tricky it can be to translate from Chinese to English (plus I've read my fair share of poorly translated works over the years) and so this is a particularly sensitive area for me.  With this book, while I can't say that the translation was flawless (because as far as I'm concerned, translations are never 100% perfect), one thing I did appreciate was the effort made to render the cultural elements as authentically as possible.  Of course, not having read the original book in Chinese, there's no way for me to judge the accuracy of the translation word for word, but I am encouraged by the fact that the translator chose to keep Chinese names and phrases intact throughout the story (for example – in Liu Zhaohu's chapters, the translator could've very easily referred to Ah Yan as "Swallow" or their village Sishiyi Bu as "Forty-One Steps Village" but instead, she mentioned the English translation of those words only once as a means of introduction – after that, the Chinese phrases were used for the remainder of the story).  In addition, as a whole, I felt that the author did a pretty good job of balancing both the historical events and cultural elements in a way that made the reading experience an immersive one, though admittedly, the chapters involving Liu Zhaohu and Ah Yan as well as how life was like in their ancestral village of Sishiyi Bu were the most engaging for me.

 

Overall, this was a great story – poignant and heartbreaking in many areas, but also ultimately uplifting.  The ending I thought was fitting and definitely got me a bit teary-eyed.  My one complaint though (and the main reason why this ended up being 4 stars instead of 5) is that, despite Ah Yan's story being the most important, we never got to hear her perspective directly.   While I feel that the author did a good job of bringing Ah Yan as a character to life through the memories of the 3 men who loved her, I think this would've been a much more powerful and emotionally resonant story if we had gotten to hear Ah Yan's perspective as well, even if it was only 1 chapter or as an epilogue at the end.  In skimming through reviews, I know this was a deal-breaker for a few readers and while it wasn't a huge issue to that extent for me, I can understand why it would've affected the reading experience for some.  Regardless though, I would still recommend this one as a worthy read, if anything, because of the relative scarcity of WWII-related fiction out in the mainstream nowadays that is either written from the Asian perspective or covers the events that unfolded across the Asian continent during that time period.  Much of what happened in China and other Asian countries back then was no less tragic than what had happened in Europe, but in general, is much less talked about outside of Asia.   Hopefully more of these stories can be heard in the future.

 

Received ARC from Amazon Crossing via NetGalley

 

Sunday, April 29, 2018

Review: The Eight Mountains (by Paolo Cognetti)


 My Rating:  4 stars

This was a beautifully written story about the friendship of two young Italian boys, Pietro and Bruno – both of whom come from different backgrounds, yet from the moment they meet, they develop a closeness akin to two brothers.   Their friendship is indeed a special one, as Pietro is from the city and though he shares an almost immediate love for the Dolomites – the mountains located in the northeastern border of Italy where his family travels for vacation – he does not fully understand the deep relationship that his friend Bruno has with these mountains where he grew up, nor does he understand the inexplicable pull that these same mountains have on his own parents, especially his father.  Despite the divergent paths that their lives end up taking and the many months, even years, they often spend apart, the friendship between Pietro and Bruno endures over the course of several decades and later it is through Bruno that Pietro eventually comes to appreciate and connect to the late father with whom he had grown distant over the course of his life.  More than just a coming of age story, this is also one that emphasizes the bonds of family, especially that between father and son….at its core, this is a story about relationships in its many forms – between friends, various members of the family, love relationships, and of course, relationship with nature and its surrounding landscape.

There were so many things I loved about this atmospheric yet quietly written book:  the beautiful descriptions of the mountains and its surrounding landscape, rendered in a way that made the mountains an important character in the story;  the lyrical, contemplative prose, writing so full of depth and meaning, yet uncomplicated in its execution – I found myself highlighting extensively throughout my reading and even stopping at various points just to absorb and reflect upon what I had just read;  the characters whom I grew to really care about and root for, characters created by the author Paolo Cognetti so meticulously and presented with obvious care, yet were still realistically portrayed with personalities and flaws that we can all relate to -- characters that, by story’s end, made me feel a little saddened knowing that I would not be able to continue the journey with them.  I also loved the way all the different relationships were portrayed, especially the enduring friendship between Pietro and Bruno as well as the strenuous one between Pietro and his father…both relationships were poignantly drawn – touching, yet at the same time also heartbreaking. 

This was a book that captivated me from the beginning, found its way into my heart, and after that wouldn’t let go -- a short book, yet one packed with so much depth and meaning.  This was a lovely read, one that I won’t soon forget.  Definitely highly recommended!

Received ARC from Atria Books via NetGalley.

Friday, January 26, 2018

Review: Little Reunions (by Eileen Chang, translated by Martin Mertz & Jane Weizhan Pan)




 My Rating: 3.5 stars

Let me start off by saying that Eileen Chang is one of my favorite Chinese authors.  I was an Asian Studies major back in college and it was in one of the many Chinese Literature classes I took back then that I was first exposed to Eileen Chang’s writing.  The very first work I read of Chang’s happened to be her most famous and critically acclaimed novella “The Golden Cangue” – the version I read was from the anthology Modern Chinese Stories and Novellas: 1919-1949 (published by Columbia University Press in the 1980s), which I found out later was a version that had been translated by Chang herself (Chang was fluent in both Chinese and English and wrote in both languages, though most of her earlier works were in Chinese and she only started writing in English after moving from Shanghai to Hong Kong – and later to the United States -- in the 1950s).  Since then, I have read many of Chang’s works off and on and also watched my fair share of movies / TV series that had been adapted from Chang’s various works over the years.  As one of the most famous and influential Chinese writers of the 20th century, Chang’s repertoire was quite prolific – in addition to writing short stories, novellas, essays, and novels, she also wrote screenplays and scripts for both film and stage as well as did translation work for her own works and those of others.   One of the things that set Chang apart from many of her contemporaries during her time was the fact that much of her writing focused on the complexity of relationships, love, family, societal conventions, and everyday life (in China, Hong Kong, and Taiwan), but without the heavy political slant that was a common characteristic in much of the Chinese literature of that period (ironically though, despite Chang’s largely apolitical stance and her focus on writing love stories set against the backdrop of the time period in which she lived, two of her most well-known works -- both written after she moved to the U.S. in the mid-1950s -- were widely viewed as being “anti-Communist propaganda” due to her searing criticisms of everyday life under Communist China, which caused her works to be banned in Mainland China for many decades).  Many of Chang’s works were known for being semi-autobiographical in nature, as her stories often reflected the bitterness, anguish, resentment, disappointments and loneliness that marred much of her childhood and adult life – also, her characters’ often complicated family dynamics as well as frustratingly bitter romantic relationships, most of which usually ended in tragedy, were common themes in her narratives that in large part mirrored her own experiences. In her later years and up until her death in 1995, Chang became increasingly reclusive and chose to live an intensely private life in an apartment in Los Angeles, largely cut off from the outside world.

Knowing the above background context and also having already read quite a few of Chang’s earlier works, I went into Little Reunions expecting to see the same beautiful, emotionally poignant storytelling that Chang was known for.  In a way, this book, more than her previous works, can be considered her most personal work, as the character of Julie – the main protagonist in the story – is said to be a reflection of Chang’s own self.  Indeed, Julie’s family background in the story was very similar to Chang’s:  born into a deeply traditional, aristocratic family in Shanghai, to an opium-addicted, abusive father and a sophisticated, worldly mother, Julie was constantly surrounded by a revolving door of meddling relatives and extended family, yet emotionally she was lonely and indifferent as a result of never having experienced true love and support from parents whose lives were selfishly defined by constant love affairs and infidelities.  Later, Julie meets the charismatic Chih-yung, a fellow writer who later becomes a traitor working for the Japanese puppet government.  Despite Chih-yung already being married and simultaneously attached to other women, Julie engages in a love affair with him, even agreeing to marry him in secret.  At the same time, Julie has to deal with her mother’s often cold and indifferent attitude toward her.  Just like her relationship with Chih-yung, Julie’s relationship with her mother is fraught with emotional complexity amidst long intervals of necessary “separations” and subsequent “little reunions”.  Through Julie, Chang provides insight into the lives of a privileged yet deeply dysfunctional family as they deal with the realities of a country at war (the Japanese occupation of China and the subsequent escalation into WWII), but on a more significant level, she provides intimate and often candid insight into her relationship with the 2 people she loved most – her mother and her first husband.

Overall, I would say that this was an interesting story, though definitely not as good as Chang’s previous works.  I know that Chang’s writing style changed quite a bit in her later years, especially in the 1960s and 70s when she lived primarily in the U.S. and tried to adapt her writing to mainstream American society.  The difference in writing style aside though, it’s important to note the back history of this book and why such a fan of Chang’s work like myself is more than willing to overlook whatever flaws may exist with this book.  Eileen Chang actually wrote Little Reunions back in 1976 and upon its completion, she sent the 600+ page handwritten manuscript to her close friend (and literary executor of all her works) Stephen Soong and his wife Mae Fong.  After reading the manuscript and understanding the autobiographical nature of the story, the Soongs were concerned that the story’s explosive content – especially the detailed descriptions of Julie’s (Chang’s) intimate relationship with Chih-yung (Chang’s ex-husband Wu Lan-cheng) – could bring untold condemnation upon Chang.  They were also concerned that Chang’s ex-husband, the traitor Wu Lan-cheng (who was hiding out in Taiwan at the time and was supposedly waiting for an opportunity to rebuild what he had lost) may try to use the contents of the book to further exploit her (and possibly destroy her).  Due to these concerns, the Soongs and Chang decided to “indefinitely hold off” on publishing the novel – over the next 20 years, Chang would continue to make small edits to the manuscript, though it was unclear whether the fully revised version ever got sent to the Soongs.  In 1992, in a letter to the Soongs to discuss her will, Chang expressed her intention to “destroy” the manuscript of Little Reunions that was in existence.  Three years later, Chang died unexpectedly and one year after that, Stephen Soong also passed away (Mrs. Soong continued to preserve Chang’s manuscript of Little Reunions up until her own death in 2007).  In 2009, with the permission of the Soongs’ son Yi-lang, who had taken over for his parents as the literary executor to Chang’s works as well as estate, the original, unedited version of the manuscript (in Chinese) was published in Taiwan, Hong Kong, and China – 14 years after Chang’s death.  The version released this year by NYRB (New York Review of Books) is the very first translation of Chang’s “autobiographical” novel into English (published 9 years after the Chinese version came out in Asia and 42 years after the original book was written). 

With this being one of Chang’s very last published works – and the one that most closely paralleled her own life -- I feel honored to have gotten the chance to read this book.  Even though I did have some issues with the nonlinear format of the narrative (which made the story a little hard to follow, especially with the multitude of characters/family members that flitted in and out throughout the story) and also the writing was not what I expected (possibly due to the translation), these were relatively minor issues in the overall scheme of things.  For fans of Eileen Chang’s works, this is definitely a “must-read,” though I would recommend reading the original Chinese version in order to hear Chang’s story in her own voice.  (Note: After reading the English version, I actually went and bought the Chinese version, as Eileen Chang had a unique narrative voice that no amount of translation could ever do justice to.  Some time in the near future, I hope to re-read this book in it’s original context and once I do, I’ll definitely come back here to update this review).

Received ARC from NYRB (New York Review of Books) via Edelweiss