Sunshine Abroad
I wrote a review of the really gorgeously written and translated "To the Spring, by Night" recently. It's by Seyhmus Dagtekin, translated by Donald Winkler. The review is up at Three Percent. Go check it out!
Hopefully, it persuades you to read the book. Because it's a really good book.
Marketing for The Last Love of George Sand is in full swing, with pub date only two weeks away. But the first review came in last year. Yep, this review from Kirkus was posted way back in early December. Publishing timelines are weird. But enough about that, the review itself is brilliant!
Now, Kirkus is an especially important reviewer to get. They call themselves "The World's Toughest Book Critics Since 1933," and it's no joke. The entire industry looks to them for helpful, honest reviews. And they have starred reviews, which they award "to Books of Exceptional Merit."
Ladies and gentlemen.
I present to you.
The STARRED Kirkus review for The Last Love of George Sand.
Delightful reconstruction of the deeply fulfilling, late-life romance of the French novelist with a devoted, younger engraver.
Obviously a labor of love, this work by the accomplished French biographer Bloch-Dano (Vegetables: A Biography, 2012, etc.) is highly entertaining and original. The author sees her job as reassembling the life of her subject from scattered pieces and “the ravages of time” and then, if all else fails, using her imagination to fill in the details much like a novelist. The result is a series of pointed assertions like light bulbs going off in her head, questions and switching to the present tense, all while sticking to the courageous, romantic spirit of her subject. George Sand was in her mid-40s when her son brought his engraver friend Alexandre Manceau to spend the holidays of 1849 at her beloved ancestral home, Nohant. A famous novelist and playwright, she was now bone-weary after the failures of the socialist revolution of 1848, into which she had thrown herself, and strapped by debts and squabbles with her headstrong daughter. Nohant had always served as her refuge, in between bruising stints in Paris and maternal love affairs with a series of “men-children.” Bloch-Dano ably portrays Sand's attraction to the 32-year-old engraver, a man of modest beginnings and much talent, highly intuitive, intelligent and devoted to Sand. Manceau not only took over the theatrical productions at Nohant, but also assumed the role of her secretary and copyist, living with her for 14 years while plying his commissions as a sought-after engraver. Bloch-Dano’s portrait is poignant and beautifully researched.
A love story probably suppressed by Sand’s resentful son, brought here to vivid life in the hands of her capable biographer.
Color me very proud.
I came very close to translating music. I did. The libretto is close, right? Right before Christmas, the New York Choral Society performed Hector Berlioz's L'enfance du Christ in Carnegie Hall, with supertitles translated by yours truly. The hall was packed. I was very lucky to be there.
There were some stunning reviews, and deservedly so, for the concert was fantastic. But one, this one, from Downtown Magazine, gave me such satisfaction. And I quote:
"The show’s epilogue was indelible all on its own. The whole company projected of Christ’s future and ultimate sacrifice with some very simple yet heart wrenching words: 'What then remains, but to bow your heads before such a wonder?'"
How could the reviewer possibly have known what was being said, without the supertitles projected for all the audience to see?
I don't need public acclaim for my work. It's nice, but I'd rather the notice fall on my work. The books, the poetry, the music, the work that should be seen and read and heard by as many people as possible.
So when people do notice the work, and especially when they notice it so seamlessly that they don't even consider there was a translator standing in between them and the original text, that is a very high compliment, indeed.
