August, the third annual Women in Translation month, has recently come to a close. In celebration, I decided to talk a little about the project and some of my favourite translated books written by women that I’ve read so far this year.
In general, the English-speaking publishing world lags behind with translated books, leading to a dearth of world literature beyond the classics and already well-known translated books. Books translated into English are an estimated three per cent of all published books in the United States.
With such low numbers already, why specifically focus on books written by women?
Similarly to other areas of publishing and literature, books written by women receive much less attention and critical acclaim than books written by men. It’s estimated that only a quarter of all translated books are written by women. This creates a cycle where people are not used to reading translated books, particularly books written by women, so they don’t buy them, which leads to publishers not publishing more translated books because they don’t sell well.
It’s all a terrible shame really, as readers and publishers are missing out on a wealth of amazing literature from across the globe.
Women in Translation month aims to change these statistics, drawing more attention to excellent books written by women in languages other than English. Here’s some of my favourite picks:
The Vegetarian by Han Kang, translated from Korean by Deborah Smith
Han Kang is arguably currently one of the most well-known South Korean authors, due to her novel The Vegetarian winning the 2016 Man Booker International Prize. The novel’s main character, Yeong-hye, lived an ordinary life before her nightmare. She subsequently decides to renounce meat, a decision that shocks and scandalizes her family, as they struggle to understand her reasoning. Told in three sections, from the perspective of Yeong-hye’s husband, brother-in-law, and sister, The Vegetarian is a disturbing and beautiful allegorical novel that tells a story about choice and obsession, as Yeong-hye seeks to free herself from her nightmare in an attempt to complete a metamorphosis of body and mind.
The Vegetarian was a twisted and disturbing read that didn’t end up going where I expected. Yeong-hye’s nightmare lead me to believe that the book contained bits of magic realism but this is firmly a contemporary novel of deceit, abuse, and the sudden destruction of a family. It’s incredibly interesting to read a book about personal choice and never once see the story from the perspective of the person who made the decision—Yeong-hye is what shapes the narrative of The Vegetarian but she’s never really allowed any agency in doing so. Kang’s writing is beautifully lyrical, soft in a way that I often had to stop to breathe or reread certain passages again and again.
The Country Where No One Ever Dies by Ornela Vorpsi, translated from Italian by Robert Elsie
Born in Tirana, Albania, Ornela Vorpsi moved to Milan when she was 22, before finally ending up in Paris. The Country Where No One Ever Dies is a collection of short stories that takes place during the end of Albania’s communist regime. Vorpsi’s stories revolve around a young girl and her family, as the inescapable realities of sex, dictatorship, and death shape their daily lives. Her father is constantly trying to kiss her, her aunt predicts she’ll grow up to be a whore, and she and her friends skip out on school military practice. The narrator presents a dark, yet ironic look at Albania as it’s crumbling down around her.
This is a brutally disturbing book. Vorpsi doesn’t rely on flowery or metaphorical language in her writing. It is a dark narrative that bends back upon itself, meandering along the hills and streets of Albania. The stories slide into each other, building upon the previous as Vorpsi paints a darkly humorous narrative.
Aya by Margurite Abouet, illustrated by Clément Oubrerie, translated from French by Alisia Grace Chase and Hegle Dascher
Margurite Abouet was born and grew up in Abidjan, Ivory Coast and was inspired to write a graphic novel that recalls her childhood in the 1970s. With beautiful and unique artwork by Clément Oubrerie, Aya tells a story about a working class town named Yopougon, focusing on the lives of three friends, Aya, Adjoua and Bintou, and their meddling relatives and neighbours. Aya is a funny account of the daily pleasures and troubles of life in Yopougon, as disco clubs are filling up and young lovers meet at night at the market square, when a love affair gone wrong suddenly changes everything.
Aya was such an interesting perspective on a particular historical moment in time for the Ivory Coast. Everything is going so well and no one can imagine the good times coming to an end. It’s a hilarious story that reads similarly to a soap opera or reality TV show. Adjoua and Bintou are looking for love while Aya studies for medical school. Fathers don’t approve of certain boys and mothers worry while their husbands try and get ahead at work. The graphic novel format lends itself so well to the story, allowing Abouet’s voice and Oubrerie’s illustrations to work wonderfully together.
