picks for women in translation month

which is apparently august!

I've been working on a longer August piece, because this month always fucks with my head a little bit and I can't fully figure out why. It can't solely be the heat ... can it? I've generally and historically existed under the impression that I was sturdier than a greenhouse bloom—maybe not! Listening and learning, babes.

But August, I've recently found out, is also Women in Translation Month.¹ Now, I won't pretend I'm on

Martha

's level when it comes to reading translated works, but over the last few years I have been a lot better about venturing outside of my trusty English/American/Irish novels.

I ventured into Canva again for this … we’ve discussed this before, haven’t we, but my talent knows no bounds. Graphic design is my passion.

So here are a few recommendations for you. Some are (arbitrarily) behind the paywall. I actually hate paywalling my newsletters, which you may have noticed as I've neglected to do so lately. Out of petulance more than anything. But then I remembered that I do more or less make my living off of Hmm, and that it might behoove me to occasionally act like it. So if you'd like to upgrade your subscription, I guess this is my little call to action:

The links are to bookshop.org. They're not commission links because I have been too lazy to set that up. But I think it's nice to buy books from places that are not amazon. A matter of self-respect, if I may be so bold.

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Valentino and Sagittarius by Natalia Ginzburg (Italy). Translated by Avril Bardoni. Really, anything by Ginzburg, but I assume you might've already heard about Family Lexicon, so I wanted to recommend something slightly more obscure that is actually a bit reminiscent of Daphne du Maurier in style. I'd already read Lexicon when I discovered that Elena Ferrante cited Ginzburg and Elsa Morante (whose Lies and Sorcery is another must-read, so let's call it a notable mention, shall we?) as two of her foundational authors. V & S are actually two separate novellas, but they are packaged within the same volume, which is a delightful, weird gift of yearning, family drama, and mental illness. The big three, if you will.

In the Margins: On the Pleasures of Reading and Writing by Elena Ferrante (Italy). Translated by (who else?) Ann Goldstein. I wasn't going to include this, seeing as how I already had an Italian title (see above). But I got so much value out of this slim little volume, a collection of four essays originally intended to be delivered as lectures before the Covid of it all landed. When a book has the ability to make me rethink the way I read and write wholesale, the way Margins did a few years ago ... I have to recommend it.

When I sing, mountains dance by Irene Solà (Catalunya). Translated by Mara Faye Lethem. This is one of my favorite books of the last five years. I've written about it multiple times and if we've seen each other in person and you like reading, then odds are good I've talked your ear off about it. It's a beautiful, harrowing, sensual, and occasionally grotesque novel. I described it as grounding about a year and a half ago and you know what, I stand by that.

A Woman's Story by Annie Ernaux (France). Translated by Tanya Leslie. I've been quite slowly making my way through Ernaux's rich catalog, but I think this, one of the first I read from her, remains my favorite. There's something both intimate and universal about the wish to know and understand one's mother outside of her role in our own lives, and Ernaux takes on the job with quiet, matter-of-fact grace.