From Schaffner Press | The Lives and Deaths of Véronique Bangoura by Tierno Monénembo, translated from the French by Ryan Chamberlain | Fiction | 240 pages | ISBN 9781639640591 | US$17.95

What the publisher says: “In this gripping novel set in both French Guinea and Paris, award-winning author (The King of Kahel) Tierno Monénembo explores themes of international exile, sexual abuse, generational trauma, and repressed memory of a people and country under the regime of dictator Sekou Toure from 1956–1982 in which 50,000 people were reported killed or disappeared.”

What Daniella Damilola at The Bounce says: “Monénembo, one of the most essential voices in Francophone African literature, turns his attention to a woman haunted by exile and the brutal legacy of Sekou Touré’s Guinea. Moving between France and West Africa, The Lives and Deaths of Véronique Bangoura refuses sentimentality, instead offering an unflinching look at the personal cost of dictatorship.”

What I say: There are a lot of moving pieces in Tierno Monénembo’s The Lives and Deaths Of Véronique Bangoura—narratively, temporally, and thematically. But what emerges from this story, in Ryan Chamberlain’s translation, is a dizzying account of personal and national trauma and shifting identities. It’s an eminently satisfying novel with a vast scope and a haunting storyline.

From Europa Editions | The Tokyo Suite by Giovana Madalosso, translated from the Portuguese by Bruna Dantas Lobato | Fiction | 208 pages | ISBN 9781609459802 | US$17.00

What the publisher says: “Madalosso’s narrative delves deep into the human psyche, examining themes of maternal guilt, societal expectations, and the search for personal identity. Rich and multi-layered, The Tokyo Suite is a poignant and gripping tale that captures the essence of modern urban life and the lengths to which people will go to reclaim a sense of control and meaning in their lives.”

What Alexandra Jacobs at The New York Times says: “The narrative toggles between the perspective of a live-in nanny, Maju, who has kidnapped her four-year-old charge, Cora, and that of the girl’s distracted mother, Fernanda, the newly promoted executive producer at a TV channel. They are the same age, forty-four, and each evokes horror and sympathy in equal measure.”

What I say: “I’m kidnapping a child” is a gripping way to begin a novel, and The Tokyo Suite doesn’t lack for tension. What’s most surprising about it, though, are the forms that tension takes: there’s both the way that one narrator reckons with the consequences of her actions and the coping mechanisms the novel’s other narrator uses to convince herself everything is fine. It’s a compelling thriller, to be sure, but there’s a lot more to be found just below the surface.

From Levine Querido | Okchundang Candy by Jung-Soon Go, translated from the Korean by Aerin Park | Graphic Novel | 128 pages | ISBN 9781646145140 | US$21.99

What the publisher says: “Growing up, Jung-soon spent every moment she could at her grandparents’ house. . . . With breathtaking colored pencil and watercolor art, she presents an achingly beautiful graphic novel about the little joys and sharp sorrows that make up a life together as a family.”

What Publishers Weekly says: “Crisp-edged cartoon-style illustrations rendered with loose pencil sketches give the work a handmade feel that parallels the tone of events: full pages of a sunny, colored-pencil childhood darken to smudged graphite comic-strip panels as Grandma’s health worsens.”

What I say: Minimalist in its structure and vast in its themes, Okchundang Candy succeeds in navigating some very complex emotions across its pages. From a flashback to social tensions within a small community to a heartbreaking portrait of two characters’ fading health, this graphic novel conveys precise observations about the world with a welcome attention to detail.

From Hogarth | Hunchback by Saou Ichikawa, translated from the Japanese by Polly Barton | Fiction | 112 pages | ISBN 9780593734711 | US$22.00

What the publisher says: “Born with a congenital muscle disorder, Shaka spends her days in her room in a care home outside Tokyo, relying on an electric wheelchair to get around and a ventilator to breathe. But if Shaka’s physical life is limited, her quick, mischievous mind has no boundaries . . .”

What Camilla Grudova at The Guardian says: “Sex for Shaka is mediated through pornography instead of emotion, as it is for many people now. This may be unpalatable for some readers, but the prevalence of porn is discussed with a mischievous and nihilistic humor.”

What I say: In Polly Barton’s translation of Saou Ichikawa’s Hunchback, readers are brought into the body and mind of narrator Shaka, with all of her frustrations and longings made clear. The effect can be overwhelming; sometimes Shaka muses on art or architecture; at others, she discusses her own lung capacity and daily routines. She is a protagonist you won’t soon forget, and the layered narrative that surrounds her takes some surprising turns by book’s end.

From Insert Press | Nadaísmo: Gonzalo Arango by Gonzalo Arango, translated from the Spanish by Javier Arango | Poetry/Nonfiction | 28 pages | ISBN 9781947322172 | US$33.00

What the publisher says: “Nadaísmo: Gonzalo Arango presents the force, humor, prescience, and beauty of Arango’s prose and verse in their first English translations. His language bursts at the seams with energy and dynamism, with a revolutionary fervor that shows off the author’s belief in the radical potentiality of the written word.”

What I say: This collection of poetry, diary entries, and manifestos from Gonzalo Arango is an immersive and all-too-relevant read. It’s also eminently quotable: “The artist has long been considered a figure closer to the gods than to man, at times a symbol fluctuating between sanctity and madness.” Series editor Shook’s introduction does an excellent job of providing sociopolitical and aesthetic reference points for readers unfamiliar with Nadaísmo as a movement.

From Restless Books | Lamentations of Nezahualcóyotl: Nahuatl Poems by Nezahualcóyotl, retold from the Nahuatl by Ilan Stavans | Poetry | 152 pages | ISBN 9781632063861 | US$24.00

What the publisher says: “A king, a warrior, and a poet, Nezahualcóyotl was a revolutionary far ahead of his time. Born in 1402, the ruler—whose name means ‘hungry coyote’ in the Uto-Aztecan language of Nahuatl—led the city-state of Texcoco through its age of enlightenment. His four-decade reign was among the most transformative and prosperous eras of the Aztec Empire. Today he is a hero in Mexico, seen as a mysterious, powerful, anticolonial figure.”

What translator Ilan Stavans says: “Nezahualcóyotl’s songs appear to have been written not by him and perhaps not even by assigned members of his court. They manifested themselves as oral tradition, after which they were transcribed. Authorship, therefore, is complicated.”

What I say: This lavishly illustrated collection of retellings of Nahuatl verse makes for an excellent primer on the life and work of this fifteenth-century poet and ruler. Ilan Stavans’s notes at book’s end include both historical context for these poems and an impressive list of some of the authors who drew inspiration from Nezahualcóyotl’s work, including Julio Cortázar and Alejo Carpentier.

Looking for more reading suggestions? Check out Tobias Carroll’s recommendations from last month.

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