Matthew Reynolds (1) (1969–)

Reading plans, pshaw!

Every now and again a book turns up in the letter box and I drop what I’m doing and simply sit down and read it. And that’s what happened with Translation, a Very Short Introduction by Matthew Reynolds. It’s a new title in a series called Very Short Introductions and yes, it is very short, only 120 pages not counting the References, Further Reading, Publisher’s acknowledgements and the Index, which takes the book up to 142 pages. I read it in an afternoon.

I was interested in it because the worth of translation per se is a topic that is persistent in the literary world. There are people who loudly scorn translations because they can’t possibly be true to the original, and so they confine themselves with lofty moralising to books in languages that they know. Every now and again there’s a little flurry on Twitter with links to someone or other pontificating about what a distorted experience it is to read in translation, or picking to pieces this translation versus that one and how this is proof that the whole process of translation is a bad idea.

For the opposition there are bloggers like Stu at Winston’s Dad, Tara at Reading@Large (formerly Book Sexy), Jacqui at JacquieWine and plenty of others as well and you will find links to their reviews of books in translations all over this blog. I like to read and review books in translation, because it brings me worlds I cannot otherwise know. I can just about read books in Indonesian and in French, but it is hard work, and I know I’ll never be able to read in all the languages that I’d like to. I can’t imagine life without having read The Great Russians, Zola or Balzac, The Iliad, The Odyssey, The Bible or Thomas Mann, and that’s just to mention ones that come quickly to mind. Orhan Pamuk, Marguerite Duras, Hans Fallada, Irene Nemirovsky, Simone de Beauvoir, Ismail Kadare, Jose Saramago, Herta Muller, Veronique Olmi, Patrick Modiano … once I get started there’s no stopping!

Well, Matthew Reynolds tackles the topic with aplomb. He’s Professor of English and Comparative Criticism at the University of Oxford and his books include The Poetry of Translation: From Chaucer and Petrarch to Homer and Logue (OUP, 2011) and he’s a judge for the annual Oxford-Weidenfeld Translation Prize. So we know what ‘side’ he’s on. And a nicely reasoned argument it is too.

To read the rest of my review please visit https://anzlitlovers.com/2016/10/22/translation-a-very-short-introduction-by-mat...… (mer)

The World Was All Before Them is a book that takes a little perseverance, but is well worth it in the end. The book opens somewhat surreally in the midst of an accident on the motorway and initially I wasn’t sure what was going on. As I settled into the narrative, which is told from the third person views of lover Philip and Sue, I was taken over by the story and its unique style. The World Was All Before Them is told almost in a stream of consciousness, the way your thoughts run from one thing to another and another. It took a bit of concentration between the jumps from Philip to Sue and back again, but it was absolutely amazing the amount of things I learned about the couple in the short time frames of each section.

Philip is a doctor, undertaking a locum in a GP surgery for a year. He’s somewhat insecure about his knowledge (or lack of it) and worries about his patients. Over the course of the year of the novel, we meet two patients who highlight Philip’s strengths and weaknesses. Sue commutes to her job in an art gallery in London each day. After a big name artist pulls out of an exhibition, Sue and her colleague try to produce an exhibition themselves. In between all of this, there’s the minutiae of everyday lives and the big decisions that came in-between.

I think The World Was All Before Them is a strong, individual book. Reynolds isn’t afraid to try something different in the narrative, jumping from Philip to Sue and back again quickly. It ended up working for me by not speed reading and just going with the flow. (Perhaps that’s a lesson that applies to other parts of life?) I felt like I became part of Sue and Philip’s lives, like a fly on the wall. I found Philip’s insecurity to be rather interesting – you don’t really expect doctors to be this way – and the way he bottled it up alone made me want to comfort him. I think Philip helps to show that it’s okay not to know everything.

In comparison, Sue seemed much more secure within herself, demonstrated by her massive undertaking of a whole exhibition. She has a sensitive side that balanced Philip out nicely, but seemed more aloof to me as a reader. I couldn’t get quite as deeply into her head as Philip’s.

I would recommend this book if you’re looking for something a little bit different that pushes the envelope of your experiences as a reader. The fold out cover is also gorgeous and well worth a look!

Thank you to Bloomsbury Sydney for the copy of this book.

http://samstillreading.wordpress.com… (mer)

One of the quotes on the cover of this book says it's a comic novel. While it is funny, I found that the main character, Alizia, was a bit like a friend who is a bit strange, but you don't laugh at because they're your friend. It's written as a non-fiction book where she tells you about her life and also how interior design can make you a better person. It's different from anything else I've read, partly because of this dual format, but also because of the interior design ideas. As she's a bit naive we can see what's going to happen before she does, and so you're drawn into it, to see how it all works out.… (mer)