A convergence of events deserves consideration. The kind that causes one to say, “What a small, connected world we live in.”
It happened like this: In May, Toni, former bookstore owner and college roommate, delivered a sack of books including “Chez Moi,” a novel by Agnes Desarthe. Agnes was born in 1966 in Paris. Her novel was written in French and translated into English.
It’s embarrassing to say that while I had heard of American novelists such as John Grisham being translated into 40 languages, I never considered foreign novels being translated into English. What an odd notion, a world of good books never to be read. I discovered this entirely new genre that allowed me to sit in the Prairie house while experiencing other worlds and peoples far from my front door.
Upon my completion of “Chez Moi,” there came an email from Ross Ufberg claiming to be a publisher in New York City and commenting on a June Dispatch column, “The Story of Martha.” He concluded by offering a book New Vessel Press (a niche publisher of foreign books) was publishing called, oddly enough, “Who is Martha?”
Not to be sucked in by the mere offer of a book, I queried, “How is it that a New York City publisher reads an obscure Mississippi columnist?”
“Why, Martha, of course,” he explained.
I accepted the book.
“Who is Martha?” is written by Marjana Gaponenko who was born in 1981 and looks every bit like Monica Lewinsky, raven hair, red lips, young … Marjana was born in the Ukraine and at 16 began writing in German. A gifted author, the young Marjana writes of a 96-year-old scholarly ornithologist having been diagnosed with cancer who decides to forego treatment and live his remaining days in luxury at the Hotel Imperial in Vienna.
I was touched that such a tender writer could write so deftly about the nonagenarian. I was more amazed that a writer in the Ukraine would be aware of Martha, the last passenger pigeon who died in 1914 in a Cincinnati zoo. I was distressed at how little I knew about Marjana’s world. Her website is in German.
These two books were followed by “Dreams of My Russian Summers,” by Andrei Makine. Andrei was born in 1957 in Siberia before being granted political asylum in Paris in 1987. As with many writers, I have a sneaky feeling there is something of Andrei in his novel, perhaps the part where a Russian author’s manuscript is rejected until he poses as the French translator of the same Russian novel.
Reading these novels takes you to a place you could never experience as a tourist or by reading travel guides because they detail the thoughts and the heart of a people in place and time. As I read the news of the Ukraine I think of Marjana. As I read news of Russia I think of Andrei in Siberia, possibly having foraged for food and firewood by necessity.
As I read novels of a world far away, I think …
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 43 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.