Every artist, particularly if they happen to be a good one, is in a sense posthumous
A brief encounter with a young couple in love inspires the men to pass the time by telling stories of love from their own lives.
If two books can be said to constitute a trend (or even the whiff of a trend) then we might just be in the midst of something of an Afrikaans literary boom.
The acclaimed satirist and newspaper columnist Jerzy Pilch once again weaves fact and fiction in a memorable absurdist tale of flawed political resistance.
It is as if the narrator takes her own self, puts it under a microscope and probes it without flinching.
A new bookstore opens in Paris and stirs up a culture war.
On a bleak winter day in 2006 a body is found, shot execution-style and crushed by a car.
A stalwart advocate for freedom of speech, Taslima Nasrin is an exiled political and artistic refugee who has had her share of literary revenge.
Newly diagnosed with stomach cancer, Arvid’s mother has left Norway for her hometown in Denmark, and Arvid, burdened with a host of ailments of his own, has followed her, his intentions unclear
A lyric from The Smiths sums up the narrator’s attitude toward feelings: “And if the day came when I felt a natural emotion/ I’d get such a shock I’d probably lie/ in the middle of the street and die”
Good things rarely happen in alleys. They are the sites of illicit exchange—of violence and unsavory trafficking.
In 2007’s The Private Lives of Trees, Zambra returns to the intersection of art, life and the botanical
This sweeping work of historical fiction begins in moral anguish. The novel’s protagonist, Vartan Balian, cannot decide whether to flee with his family on the eve of the 1915 Armenian Genocide.
What do you think is the biggest-selling Czech book of all time? Kundera's Unbearable Lightness of Being? The Good Soldier Svejk, by Jaroslav Hasek? Something by Havel, Hrabal, Klima, or Skvorecky?
Epstein’s collection is something of a spatial triumph—microscopic stories (some are only single sentences long) with manifold compartments and a capaciousness belied by their slight appearance.
Quim Monzó's Gasoline is a novel as an existential question: What happens when the idea of postmodernism becomes tangible reality?
Cecilia, Linda Ferri’s latest novel, retells the myth of Saint Cecilia, the Roman nobleman’s daughter who would become the patron saint of music and a Christian martyr
Alain Mabanckou, the young Congolese author of African Pyscho, seems intent on subverting all the clichés about African writing
Despite its brief history, East Germany held potent sway over the Western imagination
Then there is Primeval: protozoic, foundational, “the place at the centre of the universe.”
In the 1970s the French writer and film director Romain Gary had grown, in his own words, “tired of being nothing but myself.”
Twenty-three-year-old Camilla Loen has been found dead in her Oslo apartment, her finger severed, a red diamond star under her eyelid.
Virgil is a navel-gazing thirty-one-year-old who lives in Paris, works as an advertising copywriter, and always dresses in corduroys
She-Devil takes place entirely in the mind of a single protagonist who is on the precipice of madness.
Translation of poetry should always motivate two kinds of fidelity
Alicia Borinsky’s book Frivolous Women and Other Sinners (Frivolas y Pecadoras) consistently surprises with its verve and stamina