Five authors, six books:

Merce Rodoreda is a name that eluded me until now, yet with this discovery comes three translations published by Open Letters, The Selected Stories, War, So Much War, and Death in Spring, with other books published on Bison Books, Graywolf, and a number of other publishers and short story collections. With these new translations, we get a full scope of the author who was exiled by the Spanish government at the time of the Civil War, only to live in both France and Switzerland, to return in the '60s to Catalonia. Making her way by both writing and being a seamstress, she could evince the scope of women and men as they were stuck between a new worldly modernity and the lost values and hope of tradition.

Both novels reviewed are works of her later writing period, and have teenaged males as the books protagonists. While alike in some ways, the books are radically different in their variation on the themes of solitude, and adventure. Held within these twisting coming-of-age travels, we are introduced to a variety of characters, some of whom fit into our, the reader's reality, and some who are part of an other-world. Yet, each book conveys a different message. As seen below Death in Spring is a world of rituals and customs, a world where the past interferes with the present, whereas in War, So Much War, Rodoreda is concerned with the melancholy of living through war, and figuring out what comes after. These books have obvious overlapping in themes, in settings and in emotions, but are important on their own, especially in the stories they cultivate, there is a lot to explore in each.

War, So Much War is Rodoreda's last novel published during her lifetime and through the backdrop of a post war society on the brink of functioning, we are taken in by the inescapable tide of nature and death, that will always be present among our journeys. Told in three parts, the book covers the life of Adria Guimart as he leaves Barcelona, joining the army for no apparent reason other than a want to leave his beat-down town, and with a desire to explore outside of his knowledge, where adventures and interesting characters abound.

Rodoreda keeps the chapters short and swift, with conversation seamlessly blended into the narrative, creating a trance-like state for our weary-eyed narrator. Yet, what is at work in this book is not whether everything in the book can happens in our reality or not, it is rather how we can connect to the tales told, how we can feel for Adria, and how his life is unfolding in this coming-of-age story. With the adventures through the eyes of our teen narrator, we constantly question what is happening and how this can be in the world around him; for instance in trying to escape the army, Guimart stumbles upon a man hanging and dead, who then bickers and argues with Adria and starts talking about his love affairs. We are actually paying more attention to the details, in an effort to make sense of these magical qualities. While War, So Much War, revolves around a young narrator, its intent is to focus on portraying a war-torn nation betrayed by those in charge who created the misery, the solemnity, sorrow, and hardships that surrounds.

While this book is worth the read, it is the grasp of language and Rodoreda's, as well as translators that made me want to read more Rodoreda to see how she continually deals with the themes of death, war, peace and the continuity of life. In the end, it makes me want to read more Rodoreda, which is all one can ask for.

Death in Spring, while maintaining the moroseness of her other novels, deals with rituals, traditions and the disturbing influences that these play in our lives. Though already a short novel, Rodoreda's style is engaging and makes the book have a fast and rhythmic. In the midst of it all, we are learning about a time during Franco's regime, in which, as Rodoreda would at least want us to feel, backwardness and superstition was casting a shadow over those already being crushed by a fascistic regime. With constant references to bees, to wisteria, to old trees, to souls escaping, and death as a constant among the living. We are introduced to the blacksmith and the blacksmith's son, the prisoner, our narrator and our narrator's father, mother, stepmother and child, with whom his family has suffered persecution from the townspeople. An overcast of gloom and melancholy fills the pages as we continue to read on and get brought into the world of repressed voices and lost souls that continues into perpetuity "Now the children had grown up, and the youngest had learned spiteful things from their elders."

While Rodoreda's melancholic atmosphere can sometimes venture into a defeatist world where darkness has swallowed the whole, she also presents the world as a learning experience. Characters are constantly learning, and trying to distil those notions from what they learn onto others, and in this way, rather than creating a world of defeat, Rodoreda is trying to show where it is going wrong. She is tired of the rote existence of hate breeding hate and symbols being held on pedestals, and instead presents her image of what society looks like when it is merely passed down without thought. One has to keep in mind that this book was started as Rodoreda was exiled because of the Spanish Civil War, a war that was fascistic and placed a heavy emphasis on repressing freedoms.

I do find interesting that Rodoreda chose to write for two male narrators in her stories, whereas in past books she dealt with female characters, but maybe that is a discussion for a future post. Even so, both Death in Spring and War, So Much War put on a show of the dark and melancholic lives that fill our worlds, Death in Spring fills us with the grim story of never allowing change to overcome us. In a world that relies on myths and knowledge holders, we are bound to relive the same dark path over and over.

All Backs Were Turned by Marek Hlasko

How could one go wrong when reading a book by the "Polish James Dean?" In actuality, it was Marek Hlasko's biography that convinced me to read him. An exiled writer who chose to renounce his citizenship rather than renounce some of his work, he romped around Europe, the United States and Israel until his death in 1969. Rather than focus on his biography, which I suggest everyone looks at, we can thank New Vessel Press for reinvigorating Hlasko back into the world with two of his titles, Killing the Second Dog and All Backs Were Turned.

All Backs Were Turned, just like Killing the Second Dog, has Israel as the backdrop a cast of down and out friends who are looking to make some money and along the way are hit by an emotional wave of violence, lust and worst of all, betrayal. Cinematic in scope, Hlasko is in league with Hammett and the other big names of literary mystery novels, yet with Hlasko it never feels like he is writing to impress you, but rather is writing to intrigue, writing to captivate and writing to let you know, a world exists out there if you pay attention to it.

For me reading Hlasko is taking a journey, and at each moment wanting him to divulge in the secrets he knows about that man in a hat, or that corner store, or why one person continually twitches. Reading reviews of Hlasko, both do him justice and make you laugh as reviewers scramble for keywords which are no match for describing his stories, one just has to get set and go.

If you even need more of a push the book starts "Wearing a black hat and a black coat, his mournful face surrounding by a shaggy beard, he resembled a bird from some fantastic story; one of those fairy tales you tell children so they'll fall asleep, tales that belong to the horrors of childhood."

Without hesitation, get set......go.

Extracting the Stones of Madness by Alejandra Pizarnik

Poet Alejandra Pizarnik is among the most valuable exports of Argentina in recent time, and though revered and well known by those South of the United States, she is merely breaking into our circulation with the help of New Directions and the translations that came from Yvette Siegert. Born the daughter of two Jewish immigrants from Russian and Slovak descent, and with an accent to show, Pizarnik's biography starts off as if making her a lone child born to be a poet of the dark inhabiting creature called life, as she says in her own words "The beauty of my bleak childhood, the unforgivable sadness among the dolls and statues—" Pizarnik rose to not only be a poet, but a translator as well, with a clear interest and influence by those she translated.

This collection is from 1962 and goes towards her posthumous works as well, onward towards her death. Her poetry is important, first and foremost as it endures the pains of living, and the solitude of moving on. All of this is held together with a certain embrace of silence, and a love of melody and music, constantly referring to the music or the silence that is held in a given moment. She could write small fragments, or longer verse and both would encapsulate her feeling of want, or dread of despair that she held in this world.

"This spectral texture of darkness, this melody in my bones, this breath from various silences..." So starts The Word for Desire. This poem, and even that line accentuates the world that Pizarnik inhabits and explains, is a world that is isolated from others, yet in tune with ones' self, and the swirling of the metaphysical, cosmic philosophies that we manifest ourselves in.

As it seems (unfortunately) fitting for a poet of her caliber and subject matter, Pizarnik ended her life in 1972. I tried to find her poetry translated for a while, but unfortunately only a small number were. Thanks to New Directions (as well as Ugly Duckling Presses' Diana's Tree), we have her poems to read while wandering around this city, or to take off and read while sitting under the stars.

Mr. Kafka and Other Tales from the Time of the Cult by Bohumil Hrabal

Never had I heard of this novel, or this author, or to be honest, have I read many Czech authors before, other than the obvious (hint: his name is in the title of this book). Therefore I was both delighted to see a book on New Directions that fit this description only to be stuck afterwards feeling as if I am missing out on a whole chunk of literature. Now I add too many more authors to my already long list, though I am sure that many readers have this same problem.

The author is Bohumil Hrabal, the book is Mr. Kafka and Other Tales from the Time of the Cult and just like the title, this is a book that has stories that connect through place, through emotional turbulence and through a time in post-war Prague. It's bleak and yet provides a fragile humor that gives us insight into a world that is so far removed from our own, and yet just because it is not our own, we cannot ignore because of the valuable, heartbreaking lessons this book lends.

With each story we are listening while looking through a window that has an obscured view, that makes us slightly distressed at what we can make out. Whether we are on the factory floor, wandering with a narrator who is wandering surrealistically around the streets, listening in on people using the word communist in any way they want, at a women's prison, or being inquisitive with artists, these tales concern themselves with the downtrodden, the workers and the relationship with those in power, ultimately what came of a post-war society, and how is power now held and used.

We rely on these translations to discover new surroundings, and new companions in our life. So let's hope that in addition to Hrabal we continue to find more translations by authors, whose voice encompasses our own need for expression, and while not answering all of our questions, help us relate our own experiences and understandings to the tragedies that surround us. All I know for now, is that after these stories, I will be checking out more by Bohumil Hrabal.

Moments Politiques by Jacques Ranciere

Ranciere is important to read for many reasons, the most of which is Ranciere has an ability to talk about emancipatory politics like no one else. He refuses the categorical subject of intellectual, and stays away from being aligned or designated post-modern, philosophical post-Marxist and instead strives towards a message that stands democracy on its head, for a more bottom up approach.

Moments Politiques is a collection of essays and interviews, or what they are calling "Interventions," from 1977 to 2009. This book provides a great introduction to Ranciere's ideas, thoughts and his writing style, as he seamlessly keeps his topics succinct and to the point, and in many ways the focus of these articles are on more topical concerns, such as the immigration issue, the symbolism withheld in going to war, the head scarves law, Sarkozy and socialism, and son on.

Through a broad range of topics, Ranciere does focus on connecting the past and present and within this dialectic, he critiques the modern capitalistic mode of thought, politic and behavior. Thus, with that said, Ranciere is not only critical of the right, but of the left as well, worrying more about how we can have a sustained liberation, rather than identity politics which can only create a stilted revolution based on an ethics that will once again be held in an ivory tower.

An interesting and well worth your time read, which can be taken in multiple articles at a time, or read over a period of time, letting each article manifest itself into your thoughts.