August's bookshelf

Women in translation month!

The Burning God by R.F Kuang

Synopsis in a sentence: last book in a historical fantasy trilogy about colonialism, war, power, saviours, and survival.

This isn’t a translated book, but I’ve been meaning to finish this series, and Kuang did not disappoint. For no particular reason I rarely finish book series, but this one I read over a few months, and it is one of the best historical fantasy series I’ve read. The fantasy elements are top tier without being overdone or over-bearing, and while there is some trouble with pacing (throughout the series) I found this last book to be well-paced. The characters are deftly written, and the ending was one of the most devastating endings I’ve read, but the kind where you know it couldn’t have ended any other way. I adore Kuang’s writing, how effortlessly she weaves dense, complex topics into her books, and her focus on morality specifically within characters. I am, of course, waiting patiently for her new book, Katabasis, to come out next year, but in the meantime, this series is worth a read.

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Woodworm by Layla Martínez 

Synopsis in a sentence: a girl lives with her grandmother while their haunted (alive?) house bears down on them, dredging up family secrets and plenty of horror. Translated from Spanish.

A short but incredibly impactful book about class, generational trauma, violence, and religion. As I am sure you all know by now, I love a good haunted house book, and even more so a haunted house as a metaphor for something, and the use of the trope in this book was brilliantly done; it’s a complex metaphor for the legacy of family atrocities, the aftermath of violence, and the grip of class-consciousness, both internal and external. While I did not particularly take to the narration style, the horror elements were sufficiently eerie and I am in awe of how many hard hitting themes that were packed into such a short book.

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Dogs of Summer by Andrea Abreu

Synopsis in a sentence: Two girls navigate coming of age in a village in Tenerife, Spain. Translated from Spanish.

Certainly a strange book, this one was untethered to reality and at the same time immensely grounded in the ever-changing, likely entirely indescribable essence of ‘girlhood’. It’s a version of girlhood, which is what I believe makes the book; it’s painted with specific experiences that feel tethered to growing up as a girl but in no way means you won’t enjoy it otherwise. It’s a version of girlhood that’s formed by queer identities, class, geography, and so on and so forth. It was one of my favourite books of this month, because it was unafraid to be as weird and unhinged as it was, and it probes into the parts of ‘girlhood’ that aren’t seen as presentable; the kinds of things girls do when they’re beginning to understand themselves but mostly unaware of the social norms around their bludgeoning sexualities. The end had me standing outside for some fresh air; it’s an emotionally tense book, and it’s absolutely worth a read.

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Boulder by Eva Baltasar

Synopsis in a sentence: untethered woman who works on a ship settles down with her eventual wife and they navigate motherhood, together and apart. Translated from Catalan.

This one was recommended by Martha — and I’ll take a minute here to say: 

It simply isn’t women in translation month without Martha, Substack’s very own translated literary queen. If you haven’t discovered her incredibly well articulated and in depth reviews of translated books, now is the time! I promise you won’t regret it.

Back to Boulder: it has a palpable loneliness to it. It’s written in such a way that many years of the narrator’s life seem like a pit-stop, passing in seconds. Reading it makes you feel like you’re running out of time. It examines motherhood in an interesting way, looking at both our narrators and her wife’s emotional connection with our child, and how their relationship to each other contorts and changes as they enter motherhood. There is something so visceral about the isolation in this book; nobody other than our narrator feels quite real or capable of leaving a lasting impact or connection, and this creates an intense and intimate portrait of our narrator. I’d highly recommend this one.

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Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead by Olga Tokarczuk  

Synopsis in a sentence: about an eccentric elderly woman who becomes intertwined with a series of murders committed in her small village in the dead of winter. Translated from Polish.

While I did enjoy this one, the pacing was too slow for my taste, or at least for what I was wanting to read at the time, which isn’t entirely fair, so I’m noting here it’s slow but not unbearably so, just a personal preference. Books with an older woman as a main character are sorely lacking from publishing and my own reading; everyone’s loss. The character’s were all well crafted and entertaining to read about, but specifically the main character. It lost me with all the discussions of astrology, but if you find it interesting then I would recommend it. Usually I’ll read any book all year around but this one I believe would be read in the winter, when it’s dark, for the ambiance. Overall, not my favourite read of the month, but I am glad I read it.

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Be a Revolution by Ijeoma Oluo*

I finished this one this month but I can’t in good conscious put it as a notable book; I came across a review on Goodreads, leading to a Youtube video that discusses how the author misrepresented many of those she interviewed in the book, and did not get proper consent, so I am putting this here to say there are many other intersectional feminist books that properly represent those in the community they are writing about.

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Death in Spring by Mercè Rodoreda

Synopsis in a sentence: the strange rituals of a small community are narrated through the eyes of a boy living there. Translated from Catalan. 

The Wickerman (1973) if it was a book. The writing is beautiful and full of life and the casual description of rather horrific scenes capture the narrator’s age and assimilation into the rituals that are happening. The narration reminded me of how someone would narrate an odd dream; and it does indeed feel like some sort of hallucination. It explores the rupturing of community, superstition and coming of age, and is certainly worth a read.

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That’s all for my August reads; I want to know what you read, loved, hated, etc this month! And as always, take care of yourself