A Landing, or a Recommendation Against Reading Jon Fosse Mid-Air

Perhaps we’re all lonely and anonymous in our approach towards death, towards the divine, or whatever the “shining whiteness” is.

If you’ve never felt literature’s somatic effects, perhaps you just haven’t encountered the right book—or been in the right place. In this following essay, Anna Mebel explores the perilous consequences of reading Jon Fosse on a plane, where the Norwegian author’s quieting haunting novella, A Shining, catalyzed a sudden contact with apparitions, anonymity, and death at thirty thousand feet up in the air. Where certain texts e may be escapist channels, others set us ever more firmly in our bodies.

I read Jon Fosse’s A Shining on the plane back to Houston after visiting my parents in Miami, having bought the book at the airport bookstore—a sleek black copy with gold branches on the cover that stood out among thrillers, romance novels, and self-help tomes. Why not a Nobel Prize winner, I thought, and a short book too—the perfect length for a three-hour flight and a better use of my time than a magazine I’d leave crumpled and half-read.

I’ve never been one to fear flying, though I’ve often thought about how an old poetry professor—now dead—had described the shape of the plane as a tomb, comparing the experience of flying to being buried alive. Even with the recent rash of freak aviation accidents (growing more frequent by the day during the Trump administration), I still comforted myself with the logic that the odds of anything catastrophic befalling me were tiny. I boarded my plane listening to ambient harp music, and when I got to my seat, I wedged A Shining into the metal contraption that passes for a seat pocket on a Spirit flight. READ MORE…

Translation Tuesday: “Auntie with Two Laughing Braids” by Hoda AbdelKader Mahmoud

My vast darkness is lit with memories of my mother's hand

For this week’s Translation Tuesday, we bring you a poem by Egyptian writer Hoda AbdelKader Mahmoud, translated by Mohamed ElSawi Hassan and Jennifer Jean. Simultaneously delighted by the temerity of a young interlocutor and agonizing over her own age and childlessness, the unnamed narrator of this poem faces herself in the mirror and worries about her frown lines, takes pleasure in the perfect skirt, and feels a wash of nostalgia at the sound of an old song. Torn between comfort in her new identity—the Auntie!—and anxiety over her future, she finds solace in the memory of her own mother and female ancestors, with whom she shares a bond through time, and beyond age.

You are old, Auntie!
This phrase delights, then turns me to face the mirror.
My heart is obliged to follow, every time, and
I catch it red-handed, in a small panic.
I joke with it about the idea of wrinkles and sagging breasts.
My hormones are still the same from late childhood!
And the fact that aging does not come.
If it does, it confirms my beloved will never arrive,
and that Auntie will never be replaced with Mom. READ MORE…

The Cosmos, in Rhythm: Rebecca Kosick on Hélio Oiticica and Brazilian Neoconcrete Poetry

Language can’t instantiate an experience of, say, touch in the same way that actually touching something can, which is language’s limitation.

Hélio Oiticica (1937-80) remains one of most visionary artists to emerge from Rio de Janeiro’s Neoconcretismo movement, along with prominent artists Lygia Clark and Lygia Pape, and poet Ferreira Gullar. Oiticica’s art has been described as a “radical and compelling rethinking of mid-century Modernism,” and he is known as a painter, installation artist, and sculptor. He eventually moved to New York in 1970 partly because of the state-sanctioned censorship in the arts by the then-militaristic authoritarian regime in Brazil.

 Less widely recognized is Oiticica’s contribution as a poet. More than four decades after his death, Soberscove in Chicago and Winter Editions in New York jointly published Hélio Oiticica: Secret Poetics (2023), a collection of his handwritten poems from 1964 to 1966, translated from the Brazilian Portuguese. Dr. Rebecca Kosick’s translation of this visual poetry collection demonstrates that Oiticica’s poetry is, as she has argued elsewhere, “a lyric that stills the sensible for the “reader” to perceive.” Dr. Kosick, herself a poet and scholar whose studies revolve around the question of how language and media intersect in contemporary pan-American poetry (Anne Carson, Augusto de Campos, Lygia Pape, Juan Luis Martínez), has previously debunked the idea of Latin American visual art (and visual poetry) as “a passive recipient of inherited European forms.”

In this interview, I spoke with Dr. Kosick about the enduring legacy of Hélio Oiticica and the Neoconcretismo movement of mid-twentieth century Brazil, as well as her own body of work as a theorist and practitioner of poetry.

Alton Melvar M Dapanas (AMMD): The art historian Claire Bishop describes the work of Hélio Oiticica as “social and political in inclination, engaging with the architecture of the favelas and the communities that lived there.” Bishop also makes the case for Hélio’s focus on viewer perception, interactivity, and lived experience (vivências) as pivotal to the history of installation art. Could you tell us about Oiticica’s socioaesthetic and ethnopolitical roots and beliefs as a visual artist?

Rebecca Kosick (RK): In a 1966 interview for the magazine A Cigarra, the interviewer, Marisa Alvarez de Lima, asks Oiticica: “Are you an anarchist?” and he replies, “in body and soul.” Oiticica’s grandfather had been a prominent anarchist and was publisher of the newspaper Ação Direta (Direct Action), so these were ideas that Oiticica grew up with. What anarchism meant for Oiticica can sometimes be a little hard to pin down, and he wasn’t as directly involved in organized political activity as, say, his poet-collaborator Ferreira Gullar, who led the Communist Party in the state of Rio de Janeiro for a time. But it’s clear that elements of anarchism were central to Oiticica’s framework for being in the world, and for being with other people. In later interviews, he talks about certain values he picked up from his grandfather that stayed with him for his entire life—for instance, his grandfather, when being summoned to take part in a jury (which was compulsory), talked about how he would agree to show up but would say right away: No matter the crime, I will never vote to convict. Oiticica talks about this as an extremely important lesson and says that sending someone to prison is the worst crime of all. READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

The latest in literary news from Japan, Sweden, and Scotland!

This week, the Asymptote team takes us across the globe for updates on all things literature. From the inaugural launch of a book fair in Japan, to the appearance of a popular novelist and throat singer at a book festival in Sweden, to the commemoration of a prolific poet and dear friend in Scotland, read on to learn more.

Bella Creel, Blog Editor, Reporting from Japan

Tomorrow, March 22, Kobe, Japan will see its first ever KOBE BOOK FAIR & MARKET, held on Rokkō Island with over sixty vendors, some bookish and some local food booths. While the majority of participating booksellers and publishers are based in the Kyoto-Osaka-Kobe metropolitan district, companies from across the country will amass tomorrow to promote literature and reading as part of the Kobe BOOK Culture Revitalization Project, created in response to the dwindling number of bookstores in recent years.

The fair will feature four panel events, including a tell-all on the nitty-gritty of running a bookstore and a deep dive into the production of local magazines. The former will bring together three booksellers working in markedly different environments: Tatsuya Isogami from toi books, a small local bookstore, Osamu Horiuchi from the gargantuan bookseller Junkudo, and Takashi Sesako from Page Pharmacy, a half-pharmacy-half-bookstore designed to encourage more random encounters with literature for his patients. The three will share the challenges and rewards of their respective environments and together ruminate on their role as booksellers. Later in the afternoon, Chief Editor of SAVVY and Meets Regional magazines Masaki Takemura will sit down with Youhei Sanjou of ORDINARY BOOKS to discuss the status of bookstores in the Kansai region and the intricacies of editing a magazine rooted in local life. 

READ MORE…

Ordered Chaos: Katy Derbyshire on Translating Zsuzsanna Gahse’s Mountainish

[M]ountains implicitly divide . . . the way we speak, so that people on different sides of the mountain will have a different words for ‘brother’.

Zsuzsanna Gahse’s Mountainish is a folding of dreamscape into landscape—a study of some of earth’s most majestic topographies through the discursive, vivid wanderings of a mind led by its own fascinations. Made up of just over five hundred notes, this compilation of observations, narratives, fantasies, and contemplations track a journey through the Alps in colours, in flanks and peaks, hearsay and memories, macabre moments of comedy, and a continual rumination on the crafting of writing and composing. These deft workings of language have been rendered into a fluid and chimeric English by Katy Derbyshire, and she speaks here of Mountainish’s scepticism of mountains, the beauty and comedic tone of the prose, and ‘little narrative islands’.  

The Asymptote Book Club aspires to bring the best in translated fiction every month to readers around the world. You can sign up to receive next month’s selection on our website for as little as USD20 per book; once you’re a member, join our Facebook group for exclusive book club discussions and receive invitations to our members-only Zoom interviews with the author or the translator of each title.    

Matthew Redman (MR): One of my favourite aspects of Mountainish is when the narrator talks about the mountains and her fear of them; there is a kind of a mistrust of the mountains poking through a lot of the time, expressing itself in a lack of awe, a lack of overwhelm. When she’s faced with these mountains, it’s more like she’s peering at them, or stealing glances.

Katy Derbyshire (KD): Well, the narrator gives us that in the very first of her notes, when she starts off with this drive through the Alps and is terrified that they’re going to collapse onto her—and I think that continues all the way through. It really endeared me to the book, her scepticism. We, the two of us, between ourselves, we called ourselves ‘mountain sceptics,’ because Zsuzsanna doesn’t just accept this Swiss myth of the mountains’ magnificence. She sees the beauty, very much so, but she also sees the insularism—which she calls racism sometimes—and she sees the expectations and the narrow-mindedness that comes along with the landscape. READ MORE…

Death, Discourse, and Disarray: A Review of Death Takes Me by Cristina Rivera Garza

Is it possible to write a novel that seeks to have a clear political message while arguing against the desire to look for answers in literature?

Death Takes Me by Cristina Rivera Garza, translated from the Spanish by Sarah Booker and Robin Myers, Hogarth, 2025

Death Takes Me, the latest novel by Cristina Rivera Garza to be translated into English, starts with a sort of epigraph titled “The Castrated Men.” The epigraph is a quote by Slovene philosopher and sociologist Renata Salecl: “However, with humans, castration should not be understood as the basis for denying the possibility of the sexual relationship, but as the prerequisite for any sexual relation at all. It can even be said that it is only because subjects are castrated that human relations as such can exist.”

The novel thus immediately establishes its premise, both in terms of tone and theme, but also hints at Rivera Garza’s fragmentary and intertextual writing style. By quoting Salecl, who was inspired by Lacanian theory on castration not as a physical mutilation but as a limitation on language, culture, and social norms, she throws the reader right into the middle of the type of discourse on gender dynamics with which Death Takes Me will attempt to engage.

As the novel begins in earnest, we find Professor Cristina Rivera Garza—the main character as well as the name of the author herself—on a run through the alleys of an unknown city when she comes across the body of a young man. The man has been mutilated, his penis cut off, laying in “a collection of impossible angles.” Accompanying the body are four lines of poetry, written in a red lipstick, from “Árbol De Diana” by Alejandra Pizarnik, a legendary Argentinian poet active in the 50s and 60s:

beware of me, my love
beware of the silent woman in the desert
of the traveler with an emptied glass
and of her shadow’s shadow

After reporting the crime to the police, Cristina, herself an expert in Pizarnik’s poetry, becomes entangled with The Detective, the woman assigned to investigate the case, both as an accomplice and a suspect. READ MORE…

Translation Tuesday: Seven Poems by Manglesh Dabral

Opening the invisible doors of air, water, and dust, you have left for a mountain, river, or star, to become a mountain, a river, a star yourself.

For this week’s Translation Tuesday, we bring you a selection of works by Indian poet and journalist Manglesh Dabral. Dabral wrote in deceptively simple yet precise language; his artistic sensibility, which comes across as modest and humble in its ambitions, inquired into some of the most pressing questions of postcolonial India. Ranging from social themes, like the way postcolonial modernity blinds itself to its own past, to themes of personal memory, the experience of displacement, and the unending longing for home, Dabral embraced a vast spectrum of human emotions. A line from “In Memory of my Father” could serve as a statement for his poetic vision: “Within empty containers[,] torn-up books[,] and things infested with granary weevil, whatever life was left in them[,] you used to believe in it.” Translated from the Hindi by Nisarg P., the seven poems featured here are perfect representations of Dabral’s poetics―in their language, their form, and the themes with which they engage.

Here was that River

She wanted to reach there in haste
the place where a man
was heading for a bath in her water
a boat
was waiting for its travelers
and a line of birds
were approaching in search of her water

In that river of our childhood
we used to see our faces moving
on her shore were our houses
always over-flooded
she loved her islands and her stones
days used to begin from that river
her sound
audible at all the windows
her waves knocking on the doors
calling us incessantly
we remember
here was that river [,] in this very sand
where our faces once moved
here was that awaiting boat

now there is nothing
except at night when people are asleep
a voice is sometimes heard from its sand.

READ MORE…

Bungaku Days 2025: A Celebration and Symposium on Translation from the Japanese Literature Publishing Project

The symposium demonstrated that literature, like music, is not confined by borders—it moves, it transforms, it finds new voices.

Bungaku Days, an annual event presented by the Japanese Literature Publishing Project, is comprised of a symposium of topical discussions surrounding Japanese writing, as well as an award ceremony for the organization’s International Translation Competition. This year, translators, writers, and literati gathered in Kyoto to discuss the craft of translation and recognize new achievements in the field, with various experts dispensing knowledge of both the creative and the logistical matters of international literature. Here, Mary Hillis reports on the goings-on of this year’s edition.

In At the End of the Matinee by Keiichiro Hirano (tr. Juliet Winters Carpenter), the character Makino recalls when he first understood how to breathe life into his classical guitar performances: “Music is born in opposition to the beauty of silence; the creation of music lies in the attempt to use sound to bring about new beauty that contrasts with the beauty of silence.” Just as music relies on silence to give it shape, literature rests on pauses, echoes of history, interstices where interpretation takes root. In bringing Japanese literature to a wider audience, it is necessary to bridge these gaps, not merely by transferring language but by truly transforming it. Whether in rendering nuance across cultures, adapting novels into visual media, or retranslating classical works, translators often dwell in the space between the lines.

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Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

The latest from Bulgaria, Palestine, and Egypt!

This week, our editors report on the International Prize for Arabic Fiction, a profound new collaboration drawing attention to the “obliteration” in Gaza, and a movement highlighting women writers and creators in Bulgaria. Read on to find out more!

Ibrahim Fawzy, Editor-at-Large, reporting from Egypt

Last month, the six-book shortlist for the 2025 International Prize for Arabic Fiction (IPAF) was announced at a press conference held at the Bibliotheca Alexandrina in Alexandria, Egypt. The honored books includes two authors previously recognized by the prize: Azher Jirjees, shortlisted in 2023 for The Stone of Happiness after being longlisted in 2020, and Taissier Khalaf, longlisted in 2017 for The Slaughter of the Philosophers. Ahmed Fal Al Din, Mohamed Samir Nada, Nadia Najar, and Haneen Al-Sayegh are first-time IPAF nominees.

The shortlist for this eighteenth edition of the IPAF was revealed by this year’s Chair of Judges, Egyptian academic Mona Baker. She was joined by fellow judges—Moroccan academic and critic Said Bengrad, Emirati critic and academic Maryam Al Hashimi, Lebanese researcher and academic Bilal Orfali, and Finnish translator Sampsa Peltonen—as well as IPAF Chair of Trustees Professor Yasir Suleiman, Prize Administrator Fleur Montanaro, and Director of the Bibliotheca Alexandrina, Professor Ahmed Zayed. READ MORE…

The Cairo Book Fair and a Lost Classic Returned Through Translation

It’s almost impossible to decipher the Arabic publishing market without the help of professionals and enthusiasts. . .

Since its inauguration in 1969, The Cairo Book Fair has become a central hub of Middle Eastern publishing and cultural exchange, drawing millions of attendees from dozens of countries to the Egyptian capital each January. This year, the edition’s theme was ‘Read. . . In the beginning was the word’, emphasising the importance of early texts and the evolution of language. Here, Susan Curtis reports from the event and its varied offerings—which includes the announcement of a pivotal title in Egyptology and its first translation into Arabic.

In January of this year, I attended the Cairo Book Fair, one of the biggest fairs in the world and a hub for international exchange and the celebration of Arab literature. The fair exceeded all expectations with over 5.5 million visitors—more than eight hundred thousand attending on the busiest day—marking a record-breaking attendance in the fifty-six years of the fair’s history. This year’s edition took place over a period of twelve full days from 23 January to 5 February, with dedicated event spaces for panels, discounted books, and poetry evenings. Amongst the wide-ranging discussions, one announcement made this year’s event truly stand out: the launch of the first Arabic translation of The Age and Purpose of the Pyramids, as Indicated by Sirius by Mahmoud Bey, an essential text in Egyptology first written in French, then translated into English by Tessa Dickinson in 2023, and finally, in 2025, brought back to Egypt in its first Arabic translation by Youssef El Sherif from Al-Arabi.

I attended the fair as the director of my company, Istros Books, joining the ‘Cairo Calling’ publishers fellowship programme, which, together with a group of thirty-five publishers from a diverse array of countries, offers a unique opportunity for global collaboration. Attendees engage in personalized, one-on-one meetings with publishers from across the Arab world, with the support of a dedicated team of ‘angels’—student volunteers from the Translation & Languages faculty of Badr University, keen to practise their linguistic skills and to promote Egyptian culture. In a city whose infrastructure and customs can sometimes be surprising, challenging but also charming, their devoted duty to our care was both touching and most welcome. The angel initiative is one aspect that makes the Cairo Calling Fellowship programme a unique experience and brings the participants in closer contact with Egyptian society, beyond the usual rights meetings. READ MORE…

I wake to face the candle’s red bloom: A Conversation with Wendy Chen about Translating The Magpie at Night: The Complete Poems of Li Qingzhao

Translating taught me to interrogate my positionality to the languages I know and write in.

The Magpie at Night takes its title from one of Li Qingzhao’s surviving poetic fragments: “The feelings I make into poems / are like the magpie at night, / circling three times, unable to settle.” A woman poet from the Song dynasty, Li (1084-1151 CE) was recognized for her mastery of the classic ci form, and is described in this newly published, wide-ranging collection as an “indomitable voice . . . [that] still sings to us across the centuries” by translator Wendy Chen. In this complete series of poems commonly accepted to be written by Li, Chen brings about this singing in Li’s wondrous sense of listlessness, in recurring motifs of dreams, and in the clarity of awareness: “I wake to face / the candle’s red bloom.”

Here, I speak with Chen about her translation of The Magpie at Night, a process involving familial recitations, happenstance, and wounds towards encounters with true selves.

Tiffany Troy (TT): What is the act of literary translation to you?

Wendy Chen (WC): It is inventive, playful, and an homage to the writer and the original work. The process of translation itself is like figuring out how to unlock a puzzle of language, while exploring its possibilities.

TT: For readers unfamiliar with the work of Li Qingzhao, can you describe what it was like to hear her work recited for the first time?

WC: In my family, recitations of classical Chinese poems were a part of the everyday fabric of conversation. The older generations would recite these poems as commentary on contemporary issues or events in our daily lives. In this way, I was raised to see these poems in dialogue with whatever might be happening, and Li’s work was no different. Hearing her recited in this way allowed me to see the continued relevance of her work, and how it could speak to a modern audience of readers who might also be grappling with desire, grief, longing, homesickness, resentment, and love. READ MORE…

Translation Tuesday: “The Silent Bird” by Csenge Fehér

I vanished too. Bird’s wing, crone’s water, old man’s beard—nothing could hide me.

For this week’s Translation Tuesday, we bring you a haunting short story by Hungarian author Csenge Fehér, translated by Dorottya Mária Cseresnyés. In this eerie tale, A young woman, ostracized for her otherworldly beauty by the inhabitants of her small town, flees into the forest at the exhortations of her abused and overworked mother. There, she is pursued by a huntsman, here transformed from the noble rescuer of Western fairy tales into a rapacious brute, with none but the creatures of the forest to protect her—men and women whose transformations have left them barely human, ravaged by time. But even they cannot protect her forever—not from the violence the huntsman brings.

There lived I, a girl with black nails and pale soul, in a raven ravine, deep into the woods. My small village―bones banging―was wrapped in a thicket. I was so pretty that I was pelted with dung if I dared to speak, was chased by hounds if I dared walk alone. You’re such a treasure, not even pigs would desire you, they said. In vain did the moonbeams weave your skin. In vain does your river of hair flow after your feet. In vain do your eyes mirror the ashes of the nights―no one will desire you. You’ll be of no use, bear no fruit, grow old alone, what a shame.

READ MORE…

What’s New in Translation: March 2025

Reviews of eleven newly published books from Argentina, India, Austria, France, Japan, Chile, Bulgaria, Sweden, and Denmark!

This month, our selection of noteworthy titles include a collection of revolutionary Hindi poetry, an erotic thriller from an extraordinary Chilean modernist, an incisive novel concerning the disabled body in contemporary Japan, an intimate socio-philosophical contemplation of a loved one’s life and death by one of France’s foremost intellectuals, and more. 

bazterrica

The Unworthy by Agustina Bazterrica, translated from the Spanish by Sarah Moses, Scribner, 2025

Review by Xiao Yue Shan

There’s something seductive about the nightmare, perhaps because fear is the most vivifying sensation, perhaps because beauty and horror are so finely intertwined. In Agustina Bazterrica’s The Unworthy, the night-terror has never looked so exquisite, so shimmering. With an eye for the luminous and ear for the otherworldly, familiar gothic tropes are here relieved from their muted gloom; a chimeric language sings the shadows awake, and in this chorus even the most basic signifiers of darkness regain their fearsomeness, mysticism, sensual enthrallment. The cockroach has a gleam, a crunch; a derelict cathedral is as diaphanous as a dragonfly’s wing. There are the recognisable plot-pieces—violent sacraments, echoing halls, and a wasted world—but those who command fear’s aesthetic know that the most disturbing capacity of pain and transgression lies not in their repellence, but their strange and unpronounceable allure. It is not the torturous that Bazterrica is adept at bringing to life, but the smile that slowly creeps across the face of the tortured, when they are somewhere we can no longer reach.

The Unworthy is a post-apocalyptic convent story, wherein the only known patch of livable land is occupied by the House of the Sacred Sisterhood, a cult that is at once spiritually vacuous and deeply devotional, with its faith reserved more for the House’s singular rites, rituals, and rules than any principle or entity. As is the standard for any secluded sect that positions oblivion as the only alternative to obeyance, the Sisterhood’s hierarchy is strict and immovable, the leaders are mysterious and merciless, the eroticism is violent, the violence is erotic, and the practices are senseless but methodical. The founder and head of the House is a man, but in the name of Sisterhood, all his acolytes are woman: some are servants, some are the Unworthy, some are Chosen, some are Enlightened—and only this latter group is given contact with the one known only as He. One guess as to what that means. Our nameless narrator wants to rise through the ranks, but stubborn fragments of selfhood prevent her from completely assimilating into the Sisterhood’s processions. She still has memories, desires—though they are but frayed remains. READ MORE…

Weekly Dispatches From the Frontlines of World Literature

The latest in literary news from the Philippines and the United States!

This week, our Editors-at-Large take us from the Philippines to the United States for updates on literature around the globe. From an eclectic and exciting annual book festival to the grand re-opening of a local queer-owned bookstore, read on to learn more. 

Alton Melvar M Dapanas, Editor-at-Large, Reporting from the Philippines

The 2025 Philippine Book Festival (PBF) is set to take place from March 13-16 in SM Megamall’s Megatrade Hall in Mandaluyong City of the country’s capital region.

While I’m particularly excited to dive into Ang Propeta (Southern Voices, 2023), Layla Perez’s Filipino translation of Kahlil Gibran’s book of prose poems, The Prophet, the 2025 PBF lineup offers something for every participant: a cosplay event of characters from Philippine literature, panel discussions of contemporary queer and women writers, and a book talk on graphic novelist M.A. del Rosario’s Gods of Manila. The festival’s itinerary also includes a crime fiction panel, workshops on zine-making, book illustration, and writing in Baybayin (the script used in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century central Luzon), and sessions on pitching stories to filmmakers (led by studios Gushcloud Philippines and J Creative Entertainment). Festival-goers can enjoy a poetry slam, a Balagtasan (Filipino debate using rhymed verse), and book talks with authors of boys’ love (BL) and girls’ love (GL) fiction.

READ MORE…