Women in Translation Month
Conflict, the gendered experience and breaking free: 12 recommendations for 'Women in Translation Month' (and any other time of year)
It’s that time again, my favourite month in the literary calendar, Women in Translation Month!
What has emerged as a Martha’s Monthly tradition now, every August I look back to the last year and highlight the best translated books I have read written by women.
I did this in 2023 and 2024 - you can check them out if this list isn’t enough. Alternatively, you can search the archive of all the translated books I have ever read in my Map.
In an effort to make this list as succinct as possible, I have two honourable mentions:
‘Hunchback’ by Saou Ichikawa which I read last December. This novella is provocative and can be devoured in one sitting. It is a great book for conversation and if you have a friend or two who you know would like to try and read something for WITM (or in any other month) I’d recommend reading it together! I read this novel as an advance, and I felt starved by the fact I had no one to discuss it with. Luckily,
read my mind and gave me the opportunity to interview Saou, which you can read here.‘On The Calculation of Volume I and II’ by Solvej Balle - these two novels are the beginning of a Septology about a woman lost in time. Everyone is talking about them - and for good reason. They’re fascinating and unlike anything I have read in a long time. To get a taste for it, you can read my Vol I review. I have been sent an early copy of Volume III and I endeavour to read it asap for all of us who are dying to know what happens to Tara! I haven’t felt this locked in to a book series since Twilight or The Hunger Games all those years ago - it is fun to feel that again.
‘The Time Of Cherries’ by Monsterrat Roig. In 1974, after twelve-years abroad, Natlia returns home to Barcelona and her family. Upon her arrival, Natlia notices that while the younger generation are hungry for change, the older generation are afflicted by secrets and shame from a life under a fascist dictatorship. The novel is an exploration into how the dictatorship has affected their perception of the world, family life and belief systems. Predominantly exploring the experiences of women and old people, Roig interrogates how politics can enter the home. I had no idea what to expect from this novel, which is probably a contributing factor to how much I loved it. Bold and outrageous in its exploration of society, it interrogates the emotional impact of thwarted dreams and divided loyalties within families. My full review can be found here.
I featured The Time of Cherries as one of my favourite reads in 2024.
To Read If You: Don’t know anything about Spanish history. Want to read about the psychological and emotional impact of fascism. Are interested in the gendered experience of war and oppression. Are interested in how living under a dictatorship could affect your sex life. Enjoy stories that explore the role of shame. Like books that explore how easily we adopt pain into our collective memory.
‘The Simple Art of Killing A Woman’ by Patrícia Melo. Our narrator, a lawyer, accepts an assignment in the Amazonian town of Cruzeiro do Sul to escape her abusive partner. There, she learns about the epidemic of violence against women that is uncontrollable across Brazil. The Simple Art is an alarming portrait about the number of women who are losing their lives at the hands of men - exemplified by our protagonist - who handles femicide professionally, and is a victim to it personally. Melo interrogates how the legal and social systems we live under create the ‘ideal’ environment for femicide, examining how gender and race create a double oppression that results in habitual miscarriages of justice. This novel is harrowing and funny (if you can believe it). It is devastating, but enthralling - you can’t look away. I was in awe with how Melo deftly crafted a novel with such terror and warmth, it has stayed with me ever since. My full review can be found here.
To Read If You: Have any relationship with a woman. If you are interested in novels that explore police corruption. Want to understand how the law is predominantly for white and urban women. Are interested in reading about an ayahuasca trip. Like to read literature inspired by real life. Enjoy stories which handle intense themes with humour and sarcasm. Want to learn about the indigenous community in Brazil.
‘Childhood, Youth, Dependency’ by Tove Ditlevsen. This memoir is Ditlevsen’s recount of her life; from her girlhood in working-class Copenhagen, to her ambitions of being a writer and her experience of motherhood. Ditlevsen’s prose is searingly honest as she recounts her life as a woman which is characterised by hardship, bravery and addiction. I read most of this novel with my mouth agape at the life Ditlevsen has lived and her approach to writing about it so candidly. She is one of the most endearing writers I have ever encountered, her prose is intense and immersive. I continue to be in complete awe of this novel, and more importantly, her. It is a remarkable tale of courage and defiance that is utterly inspiring, one that I believe everyone should read. My full review can be found here.
I featured Childhood, Youth, Dependency as one of my favourite reads in 2024.
To Read If You: Enjoy stories that explore the hardships of being a woman, specifically one of low social standing. Are interested in the intersection of poverty, class and gender. Like to read books that frankly explore addiction. Are interested in what life was like for women in Denmark in the early twentieth-century. Want to read a woman's no-frills account of her life.
‘Too Great A Sky’ by Liliana Corobca. Ana is recalling her life to her great-granddaughter, and her experience of being deported from Bucovina in the 1940s. At eleven years old, Soviet Soldiers send Ana and her mother away from their village, along with thousands of others. By the time they reach frozen Siberia, they are politically exiled and forced to survive in a baron, hostile landscape. This novel is stark and heartbreaking - Corobca paints a vivid picture of deprivation that was almost too hard to read.
But amid the terror of recalling the reality of those who were persecuted, Too Great A Sky is brought to life by the stories of their cultural homelands. The songs interspersed throughout were based on ones composed by deportees and sung by survivors. The novel is a fluid exploration of identity with a moving honesty I have never read before. It is about the othering of ethnicities during conflict and the endless movement of people - by choice and force. Too Great A Sky is poetic and incisive in every sense. My full review can be found here.
(
did a fantastic interview with Corobca and Cure here!)To Read If You: Have no understanding of the territorial disputes and border changes suffered in Eastern Europe during WWII. Value oral testimonies. Worry about the stories that will be lost with the passing of older generations. Like tales with rhythm. Believe in the power of language in sustaining hope. Have never read a novel by a Moldovan writer. Think a cat is the greatest possible companion. Value the relationships we have with animals.
‘The Winterlings’ by Cristina Sánchez-Andrade. Two sisters, Dolores and Saladina, have returned to the parish of Tierra de Chá in Galicia. It is where they grew up, and were sent away from during the Spanish Civil War. They return to their grandfather's house, who has since died, and they do not know what happened. But the rest of the villagers do. The community begins to panic as the sisters' return opens the wounds of the past. This novel completely surprised me - I did not expect to love it as much as I did. It is driven by an intense strangeness which distorts reality. Sánchez-Andrade has crafted a bizarre but intoxicating story about the mundane fallout of war and oppression in communities. It is a fast-paced, wonderful story about the worlds we build in the absence of others. I often think of this novel fondly and I need more people to read this. My full review can be found here.
To Read If You: Enjoy fables. Like novels about the Spanish Civil War. Want to read about a strange sister relationship. Think about the impact of shame on isolated communities. Like tales that interrogate the idea of being stuck in the past. Think it is reasonable to keep a cow in the basement of your house. Have a complex about teeth and/or the dentist. Like caricatured names. Love to gossip.
‘Sons, Daughters’ by Ivana Bodrožić is a novel with three separate narrators exploring the confinement of bodies. Lucija is paralysed with locked-in syndrome. While she is facing boundless isolation, she recalls to us her relationship with her boyfriend and mother. Dorian, her boyfriend, comes in as a second narrator, recounting his relationship with Lucija before she was paralysed. He explores his own tumultuous relationship with his identity and body. Our final narrator is Lucija’s mother, who recounts her life as one characterised by misogynistic abuse. Sons, Daughters meditates on the hidden suffering many are enduring. It asks how might being born female at birth determine the rest of your life? Bodrožić’s prose is tender yet unflinching as she demands the reader to empathise with the uncomfortable, exploring how we are all, ultimately, in pursuit of freedom in this world. This novel was beautiful and illustrated the importance of intersectionality and understanding. My full review can be found here.
To Read If You: Know nothing about the societal attitudes in Croatia towards LGBTQ people. Think about the limits that are placed on us because of our bodies. Enjoy reading complex mother-daughter relationships. Have never read a novel by a Croatian author. Think about how violent governments create a culture of violence in society. Believe we need to be more forgiving to each other. Enjoy novels that explore the big three (ableism, misogyny and homophobia).
‘Brandy Sour’ by Constantia Soteriou has an obscure protagonist - it’s a hotel. The Ledra Palace Hotel is located in central Nicosia and was built as the largest, most glamorous hotel in the city. Until 1974, where it became a United Nations base, and a buffer zone between the Turkish Cypriot and Greek Cypriot territories. Brandy Sour consists of vignettes about individuals connected to the hotel over the years; from staff, to guests and royalty, each of their experiences with the hotel mark a moment in its lifetime. Soteriou’s prose discusses the conflict without ever mentioning political impetus or dead bodies - instead through the intimacies of ordinary people in their daily life. This portrait of conflict was presented in such a singular way, using drinks to give insight into the culture and tradition that is being threatened. I greatly admire how Soteriou approached exploring the history of Cyprus in such an innovative way. My full review can be found here.
To Read If You: Like to make drinks. Believe recipes carry history. Have ever been to Cyprus on holiday. Think about objects carrying anthropomorphic traits. Wonder how much history buildings have witnessed. Like novels that portray the many faces that make up a country. Want to read snapshots of an island in crisis. Didn’t know that the UN only recently (2019) stopped using the hotel as their base - and relocated across the road.
‘Cautery’ by Lucía Lijtmaer tells two parallel stories, four hundred years apart. One narrator is an unnamed contemporary woman living in Barcelona, who has it all, but is unhappy. The other is Deborah Moody, living in Elizabethan England. After an unsatisfying marriage, she fled for the Massachusetts bay colony where she found freedom from relying on a husband. Together, these women share a final version of happiness, rooted in breaking free from the performance of heteronormative society.
Cautery follows the eerily similar performances of womanhood four centuries apart, pulsating with identical emotions. I loved this novel because it felt so human in its exploration of the desires of women. Lijtmaer takes two women who should not have commonality - but they do - because they share an understanding of marginalisation. She explores the sacrifices women are continually expected to make for the greater good of everyone else. This novel is a feel-good read. While it ends in a marginally cheesy way, its cuttingly sarcastic prose creates an enthralling story. My full review can be found here.
To Read If You: Think about witches. Often think about all the women who have married men they don’t like. Want to read a voice from beyond the grave. Enjoy expertly paced alternating narratives. Want to befriend a woman from the past. Think about how nothing we experience is unique. Wish you could go back in time to tell past women how the world changes - for better and for worse.
‘The Accidentals’ by Guadalupe Nettel is a collection of short stories about the dynamics of family life; the secrets and devastation that encompasses it. Nettel interrogates how our understanding of anything is merely just a reflection of ourselves. The stories are all rooted in our unique humanity which prevents us from being able to separate our emotions from actuality. I rarely enjoy story collections - I often find them to be inconsistent and ultimately unsatisfying, but Nettel has created a homogeneous collection which is deftly emotive, vivid in characterisation and concept. These stories are deeply human, exploring the landscape of all that we think we will amount to, compared to all that we are. Nettel’s novel Still Born remains one of my favourite novels, so perhaps it is unsurprising her collection reverberates with a strikingly similar discussion about family. My full review can be found here.
To Read If You: Enjoy reading novels that meditate on what it means to have a family. Think about the emotional significance a tree in your garden can have. Enjoy reading about rifts between families. Like marital dissatisfaction. Think about the trajectory of our society post covid. Love thinking about dreams. Like poignant tales about how we exist with each other. Hate your family sometimes.
‘Co-Wives, Co-Widows’ by Adrienne Yabouza. Ndongo Passy and Grekpoubou are the wives of businessman Lidou. One day he suddenly drops dead, and in the wake of his death, family emerges to take away his empire from his wives and they are left destitute. What follows is a remarkable determination between the women, supporting each other in fighting for what is rightfully theirs. Yabouza has crafted a charming story about the enduring value of goodwill, and the importance of friendship. I loved how the novel commented on corruption, misogyny and bribery, which is seemingly a cornerstone of society in the Republic. The social commentary here is just as terrific as the relationship between the women. The novel is full of love and attitude - I thought it was fabulous. A joy to read and a joy to learn from. My full review can be found here.
To Read If You: Have never read a novel from the Central African Republic. Think polyamory gets bad press. Enjoy a revenge narrative. Are tired of reading novels where the romantic interests of the same men are pitted against each other. Like novels that explore corruption. Think about the conflict that exists between progressive and traditional cultures within the same society. Like novels with a happy ending.
‘The Dry Heart’ by Natalia Ginzburg. ‘I shot him between the eyes’ is one of the opening lines of this novella. Four years before she shoots her husband, a lonely young woman meets an older man. They seem to be lovers - but they are not. She is in love with him, he is at best indifferent to her. Despite this, he asks her to marry him. They build a relationship based on lies, and Ginzburg examines how marriage ends in murder. The Dry Heart is stark and enthralling as it interrogates how our protagonist has married someone who is apathetic towards her, just so she can access (what I am calling) ‘ultimate womanhood’; to be a wife, to have children. The Dry Heart examines the idealisation of love and the gendered existence of heterosexual relationships. This is thrilling to read - and I can’t say I had any remorse when she shot him between the eyes - good riddance. My full review can be found here.
To Read If You: Think about the trappings of domesticity. Believe that the societal expectations put on women are a scam. Wonder where the line is between conformity and madness. Appreciate a novel you can read in one sitting. Want to be horrified by the fact that 26 used to be considered old. Think that heteronormative societal expectations should be met with female rage. Have fantasied about shooting a partner for being useless.
‘On Earth As It Is Beneath’ by Ana Paula Maia tells the tale of a penal colony, built by the state, situated in a remote corner of Brazil. Prisoners go to get rehabilitated - but they never leave. Decades after its creation, operations are being called to wind down, but the warden has other ideas. At every full moon, he selects inmates to set free - if they can out run his rifle. This novel is explosively provocative, interrogating the intersection between masculinity, the patriarchy and society's relationship to violence. Maia has written a story laced with adrenaline - this was so fun to read, as well as addictively horrifying. On Earth As It Is Beneath is the visceral prequel to Of Cattle And Men - another brilliant book worthy of a read for Women in Translation Month (but only after reading On Earth As It Is Beneath first.) I adore how Maia crafts these unnerving worlds to comment on ours. My full review can be found here.
To Read If You: Disagree with the prison system. Haven’t given much thought to why incarceration is futile. Think about society's relationship violence. Wonder if inaction is weighted as equally as action. Want to understand how violence characterises our existence. Wonder how innate violence is within us. Believe that humanity is destined to be cyclical. Are curious about how hard it is to bury a dead body (literally and figuratively).
Further Reading:
- curated a special ‘horror edition’ for Women in Translation Month!
- shared some of his favourite translated books.
- has shared multiple posts dedicated to Women in Translation in the past (here, here and here).
- is hosting a Women in Translation read-along this month - all about Elena Ferrante!
- invited me to created a Reading in Translation reading last earlier in the summer, and I was only allowed to recommend 5 (!) books! You can read it here.
- shared some of her Women in Translation picks here (with many I endorse)
- , a girl after my own heart, shared some of her recommendations.
- shared his three WITM recommendations that I have not read - but I want to!
- curated a mini WITM list - which includes more endorsement for Hunchback, Vigdis Hjorth (I have previously raved about her here) and Tove Ditlevsen - read here.
- shared 3 recommendations last week too! (I co-sign The Employees and need to read some Samanta Schweblin for myself soon!)
My upcoming ‘August Reads’ will also be full of women in translation recommendations - I have only read translated books written by women this month (and they have been brilliant so far).
Let me know which of these you are most interested in reading, or whether you have a Women in Translation recommendation for the Martha’s Monthly community!
Thank you, as always, for reading. I hope you enjoyed this extra letter.
See you very soon for my ‘August Reads’.
Happy Reading! Love Martha
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i've been intrigued by 'too great a sky' since you first mentioned it because, selfishly, this is very close to my own family history (thousands of polish jews, including both of my grandparents, fled east early in the war and were deported as polish citizens to kazazkhstan. my grandparents' feelings about this were, um, complicated; better to be a pole in siberia than a jew in poland)
personal digression aside, i do in fact feel a call to read a novel i can read in one sitting, so the dry heart is going on the holds list.
the queen has spoken!!! and has reminded me I still haven't cracked open the Ditlevsen...