IFFP 2014: Some Thoughts

After what seems like years of anticipation, the official winner of the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize was awarded last night, in the presence of a host of literary stars (well, Stu, David and Jacqui were there, anyway).  The name that was eventually pulled out of the envelope was Hassan Blasim's The Iraqi Christ, translated by Jonathan Wright - congratulations!

*****
If I'm being honest, it's not a result I would have predicted, but I am very happy for the publisher, Comma Press, for the publicity and praise they're getting for their work in translating shorter fiction into English.  Boyd Tonkin, the chair of the IFFP panel, showed a couple of years back that he has a soft spot for the press with his infamous 'double suicide' quote (claiming that with translated fiction and short stories both a hard sell, doing both together was a rather foolhardy endeavour...).  I've reviewed several of their books, and I'd heartily recommend collections like Gyrðir Elíasson's Stone Tree and the collection of Chinese contemporary fiction, Shi Cheng (Ten Cities).  Oh, and Blasim's book, of course ;)

In addition to the awarding of the main prize, the organisers also saw fit to laud another of my favourite presses.  Birgit Vanderbeke's The Mussel Feast, translated by Jamie Bulloch, was singled out for special praise, and I'm sure I wasn't the only one thrilled to hear Peirene Press' name mentioned on the night, even if it wasn't quite the mention they were hoping for.  Well done to Meike and the team (including the flighty Nymph...) - sadly, though, the first female winner is at least another year away...

*****
Of course, we in the Shadow Panel published our winner the day before the official announcement, our pick being Jón Kalman Stefánsson's The Sorrow of Angels (translated by Philip Roughton, MacLehose Press).  The fact that our favourite wasn't even shortlisted for the official prize shows how important it is to have someone keeping tabs on the professionals - you can't always trust them to choose the best books ;)

A while back I expounded on this a little in my post on the differences between the IFFP and the American version, the Best Translated Book Award.  While the BTBA has its own issues (as the amount of fiction available in translation increases, its anyone-can-enter ethos is bound to come under pressure), I do feel that the American version is slightly more daring than the IFFP, with the writing prized more highly than any political concerns.

Sadly, I can't pretend that that's true over in the UK.  It's an important event for translated fiction, but I can't help scratching my head at times over some of the decisions they come up with.  It's often hard not to feel that there's a bit of an agenda there, meaning that some great books miss out while others (better fitting certain categories) seem to sneak in instead.  Still, let's try to move on with grace - here's looking ahead to 2015 ;)

Before we leave 2014 behind though, there's one more aspect of the prize I need to discuss, and that's the work of the Shadow Panel.  Stu and I were back for our third go this year, but the other four members, Tony, David, Jacqui and Bellezza, were tackling the task for the first time.  Thanks to their efforts, this was easily the most successful and professional effort so far, with more opinions and reviews helping to balance out the views (in the past, Stu and I have had a disproportionate influence on some of the decisions).  Thanks again to everyone for all the hard work over the past three months - let's hope everyone is able to go through it all again next year :)

And the (Shadow) IFFP Winner is...

In 2014, for the third year in a row, Chairman Stu gathered together a group of brave bloggers to tackle the task of shadowing the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize.  It's not a task for the faint of heart - in addition to having to second-guess the strange decisions of the 'real' panel, the foolhardy volunteers undertook a voyage around the literary world, all in a matter of months...

On our journey around the globe, we started off by eavesdropping on some private conversations in Madrid, before narrowly avoiding trouble with the locals in Naples.  A quick flight northwards, and we were in Iceland, traipsing over the snowy mountains and driving around the iconic ring road - with a child in tow.  Then it was time to head south to Sweden and Norway, where we had a few drinks (and a lot of soul searching) with a man who tended to talk about himself a lot.

Next, it was off to Germany, where we almost had mussels for dinner, before spending some time with an unusual family on the other side of the wall.  After another brief bite to eat in Poland, we headed eastwards to reminisce with some old friends in Russia - unfortunately, the weather wasn't getting any better.

We finally left the snow and ice behind, only to be welcomed in Baghdad by guns and bombs.  Nevertheless, we stayed there long enough to learn a little about the customs involved in washing the dead, and by the time we got to Jerusalem, we were starting to have a bit of an identity crisis...

Still, we pressed on, taking a watery route through China to avoid the keen eye of the family planning officials, finally making it across the sea to Japan.  Having arrived in Tokyo just in time to witness a series of bizarre 'accidents', we rounded off the trip by going for a drink (or twelve) at a local bar with a strangely well-matched couple - and then it was time to come home :)

Of course, there was a method to all this madness, as our journey helped us to eliminate all the pretenders and identify this year's cream of the crop.  And the end result?  This year's winner of the Shadow Independent Foreign Fiction Prize is:

The Sorrow of Angels by Jón Kalman Stefánsson

(translated by Philip Roughton, published by MacLehose Press)

This was a very popular (and almost unanimous) winner, a novel which stood out amongst a great collection of books.  We all loved the beautiful, poetic prose, and the developing relationship between the two main characters - the taciturn giant, Jens, and the curious, talkative boy - was excellently written.  Well done to all involved with the book - writer, translator, publisher and everyone else :)

Some final thoughts to leave you with...

- Our six judges read a total of 83 books (an average of almost fourteen per person), and ten of the books were read and reviewed by all six of us.
- This was our third year of shadowing the prize and the third time in a row that we've chosen a different winner to the 'experts'.
- After the 2012 Shadow Winner (Sjón's From the Mouth of the Whale), that makes it two wins out of three for Iceland - Til hamingju!
- There is something new about this year's verdict - it's the first time we've chosen a winner which didn't even make the 'real' shortlist...

Stu, Tony, Jacqui, David, Bellezza and myself would like to thank everyone out there for all their interest and support over the past few months - rest assured we're keen to do it all over again next year :)

IFFP 2014 - Who's Going to Win?

Well, it's been a long, hard road, but I've finally read and reviewed all fifteen of the longlisted books for this year's Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, and next week we'll get to see who actually takes out the coveted honour of being chosen as best in field by the Shadow Panel :)  What's that?  Oh, yes, there's an official panel as well - I'd almost forgotten about them...

I suppose, then, seeing as I've gone to the effort of reading all the books, I should go to the trouble of looking at the official shortlist, and try to predict a winner (all links are to my reviews).  It's not an easy task though - those 'professionals' are notoriously difficult to second-guess...

*****
The Iraqi Christ by Hassan Blasim
(translated by Jonathan Wright, published by Comma Press)

Brownie Points: A fashionable setting (the Middle East), some excellent stories (some verging on Magical Realism), a great small publisher with lots of friends.

Black Marks: It's a short-story collection, and it's a little uneven.

Chances of Winning:  Slim, I'd say.  While I'm happy to see Comma Press get lots of great publicity, I don't think this is one that many people would expect to hear named as the winner next week (go on, prove me wrong!).

Strange Weather in Tokyo by Hiromi Kawakami
(translated by Allison Markin Powell, published by Portobello Books)

Brownie Points: A beautiful story, elegant writing and a great ending.

Black Marks: A little lightweight with a truly awful cover - hate it :(

Chances of Winning:  Not very high.  It's a lovely book, but it doesn't really have the necessary heft to win a prize like this.  Heft?  You know, gravitas, oomph.  Moving on...




A Man in Love by Karl Ove Knausgaard
(translated by Don Bartlett, published by Harvill Secker)
 
Brownie Points: A genuine worldwide success, a subject that resonates with many people, well-written and equally well-translated - and surprisingly gripping too.

Black Marks: Divisive - has many vocal haters amongst the crowds of admirers.  May also be a bit of a blokey book (does Knausi's angst resonate as much with women?).

Chances of Winning:  He'll be there or thereabouts come the announcement, but I suspect that he'll be a very well-supported runner up...

A Meal in Winter by Hubert Mingarelli
(translated by Sam Taylor, published by Portobello Books)

Brownie Points: Easy to read, WW2 setting (everyone loves that, right?).

Black Marks: Too easy to read, not really that interesting.

Chances of Winning: Much higher than I'd like - the judges have form with WW2 books...  Surely they can't give the prize to an overblown short story - can they?






Revenge by Yoko Ogawa
(translated by Stephen Snyder, published by Harvill Secker)

Brownie Points:  Dark, clever, a great translation, eminently rereadable - a great book with a female author (what the prize has been crying out for...).

Black Marks:  Not many I can think of - it's not really even a short-story collection.  Lacking in war references, perhaps?

Chances of Winning: Very, very high.  I hope Ogawa's in attendance, as everyone will look very silly if Revenge wins and Boyd Tonkin has to accept it on her behalf.  If ever a short-story collection by a female writer is to win, this is the time ;)

The Mussel Feast by Birgit Vanderbeke
(translated by Jamie Bulloch, published by Peirene Press)

Brownie Points: A taut, tense work, already a classic back in Germany, telepathic waves of support from bloggers all over the world for the plucky underdogs from Peirene Towers :)

Black Marks: Not many, really, apart from being up against a few good books.  Possibly a bit short?

Chances of Winning: Definitely not unthinkable, but I suspect that The Mussel Feast will just come up short.  If Revenge wasn't on the list, Vanderbeke's role as the 'Great Female Hope' (trademark pending) would be unchallenged.  Instead, I think the Nymph will have to be content with compliments from the judges and complimentary champagne ;)

*****
All of which leads me to conclude that the official winner next week will be Yoko Ogawa's Revenge (in a split decision over A Man in Love, with The Mussel Feast the other book to feature heavily in the discussions)...

...so, naturally, the judges will choose A Meal in Winter just to spite me.  If that does happen, then I'd just like to say to all the other authors on the list - I'm really, really sorry :(

'A Meal in Winter' by Hubert Mingarelli (Review - IFFP 2014, Number 15)

After a long and arduous trek, stretching from Germany to Japan, with stops in countries such as Spain and Iraq in between, we've finally reached the last stop of this year's Independent Foreign Fiction Prize journey.  We're in Poland today, but it's only a brief stay - it's rather cold outside...

*****
A Meal in Winter by Hugo Mingarelli - Portobello Books
(translated by Sam Taylor)
What's it all about?
We're in Poland during the Second World War, and three German soldiers are out bright and early on patrol in the countryside.  Sick of taking part in firing squads, the trio have volunteered to scour the surrounding area for Jews in hiding, mainly to avoid having to shoot the ones already captured:

"We went at dawn, before the first shootings.  That meant missing breakfast, but it also meant not having to face Graaf, who would be filled with hatred that we had gone over his head."
p.9 (Portobello Books, 2013)

While leaving early avoids a run-in with their superior, it also means that they don't have time to eat, a decision which will affect how their day unfolds.

After a few hours' walking in the freezing cold, they uncover a Jew hiding in a hole and start walking back towards their camp.  Hunger and cold, however, force them to stop off at an old abandoned house, where they decide to start a fire to cook the meagre rations they have brought with them.  The Jew obediently takes his place in a storage cupboard, and the soldiers get to work preparing the meal - when an unexpected, and unwelcome, visitor upsets the equilibrium...

A Meal in Winter is a very short work, its 138 pages exaggerating its size; I actually finished this in well under an hour.  It can barely be called a novella, more an extended short story, and in its focus on a very limited area and group of protagonists, it's actually more akin to a play.  The book is divided into short sections, and the language is fairly simple, more plain than elegant, but very effective.

The writer is effectively basing a story on a moral dilemma, setting up a situation where the soldiers have to make a choice about what to do with the prisoner they wish they hadn't found in the first place.  Initially driven by a desire to justify their escape from the camp, the soldiers begin to regret their discovery once they have time to reflect on it in comfort.

Mingarelli is careful to humanise his creations, with all three soldiers drawn out as real people caught up in a horrible situation.  Bauer is a petty thief, quick to anger, while Emmerich is more withdrawn, preoccupied with the issue of how to raise his son in absentia.  The unnamed narrator is equally realistic, haunted (like the others) by the memories of his daily duties:

"Because if you want to know what it is that tormented me, and that torments me to this day, it's seeing that kind of thing on the clothes of the Jews we're going to kill: a piece of embroidery, coloured buttons, a ribbon in the hair.  I was always pierced by those thoughtful maternal displays of tenderness." (p.81)

Despite their orders, and the racism instilled in the soldiers from birth, it's not hard to see that it would be tempting for them to let it slide, just this one time...

The unexpected visitor, a Pole who turns up with some alcohol, hoping to share in the meal, acts as a catalyst to the situation, his obvious loathing of the Jew bringing the soldiers' better nature to the fore.  As the warmth of the hut brings everyone closer together, the story runs towards its inevitable end where two questions will be answered?  Will everyone get something to eat?  And what will happen to the prisoner...

*****
Did it deserve to make the longlist?
No, I don't think so.  A Meal in Winter is almost painfully slight, and while it's carefully constructed, with a lot to like, it's nothing more than an interesting short story.  The figure of the Pole is a weak point, a cartoonish character designed to raise sympathy for the Jewish captive, and the writing, while clear, has nothing which raises it above the crowd.  For this to really be worthy of a spot on the shortlist, the writing would have to be excellent, and in my opinion it's just good :)

Why did it make the shortlist?
Not sure really, unless there's a secret clause 324 c (ii) in the IFFP regulations which states that a WW2-themed book must be on the shortlist every year.  It's a good book, worthy of the longlist, and it has grown on me since I finished it, but when you consider the books that were left off the shortlist (The Sorrow of Angels, Brief Loves that Live Forever, The Infatuations), you can't help but wonder whether the Wehrmacht connection got it over the line.

And if it takes out the whole thing, then I'm done with the IFFP.  Seriously.

*****
So, that's your lot, then.  Fifteen works of translated fiction, rated, slated and ready to be judged by posterity.  The prize will be handed out in two weeks' time, and the Shadow Panel will be announcing their verdict shortly before that (I'm fairly sure that - for the third year running - we'll be choosing a very different champion!).  I'll be back next week with a review of the journey and my prediction for what the 'real' judges will opt for - see you next time :)

'Ten' by Andrej Longo (Review - IFFP 2014, Number 14)

The winner of the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize will be announced in a few weeks' time, and here at Tony's Reading List our trip around the world is also nearing its end.  The penultimate stop takes us to sunny Naples for a look at la vita when it's not quite so dolce.  We won't be seeing too much sun either - it's really more about the nightlife...

*****
Ten by Andrej Longo - Harvill Secker
(translated by Howard Curtis)
What's it all about?
The title is a clue for what lies within the covers as Longo's book is a collection of short stories set in southern Italy, each with a biblical twist.  You see, the ten stories are based on the ten commandments, and in lieu of a title, each story simply has a number plus the commandment at the start.  The stories don't follow the commandments exactly, but if you wait long enough, a connection usually appears.

As you would expect, several of the stories play on the role of organised crime in Naples, and there's often a mafioso lurking somewhere in the shadows.  The two stories which bookend the collection are the most obvious examples, portraying two differing encounters with the local heavies.  In the first, a local boy is trying to stay out of the way of the mafia, hoping to live an ordinary life.  Sadly, this is unlikely to happen in Naples, and events conspire to push him into the orbit of a local mafia leader.

The final story sees a more serious encounter though, as a group of teenage toughs discover that it's always worth thinking about your actions, especially when there are bigger, more dangerous people around.  A night of fun ends with serious consequences, with the book finishing on a pivotal note...

The city is an important backdrop to the action of the stories, with Longo casually sketching a picture of a squalid town, a place guaranteed to deaden any hopes the people may have:

"Under the stairs there were three junkies shooting up.  A mangy dog was wagging its tail behind a guy trying to sell a car radio.  An old man passed by, talking to himself out loud."
'Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery', p.79 (Harvill Secker, 2013)

It's unsurprising that a couple of the stories feature people who are trying to escape Naples, either by working in Rome or making plans to leave for good.  It's equally unsurprising that those plans don't really work out all that well.

The translation, by Howard Curtis, is an interesting one, in that it makes a deliberate choice to relocate Naples vocally to London.  The working-class accents and slang are deliberately reminiscent of the criminal underclass of the British capital.  For an English reader, echoes of the Kray twins (or, at a lower level, the Mitchell brothers from Eastenders!) are unavoidable.  I wonder if there's an American version floating around, with a Goodfellas vibe instead ;)

For me, though, the stories which feature the gangsters are less interesting than those where the disappointment is more subtle.  One of my favourite stories is one where nothing really happens - a dad just takes his son out to an amusement park for the day.  The problem is that the dad is obviously a man caught up in some heavy business, and every excursion into public is fraught with tension:

"I don't know how much a seven-year-old really understands.  He nodded and gave me a big hug.  And as he was hugging me, with his heart beating fast inside his chest, I could feel the cold gun pressing into my thighs, and I realised I couldn't do anything more for him.  My one hope was that he never became like me.  My only hope."
'Thou Shalt Not Kill (p.76)

It's a moving moment, where we begin to understand the wider implications of the bravado described in some of the other stories.

While Ten takes us on a trip around Naples, the visit is rather fleeting.  The book runs to 151 pages of very large print, and if you're in a hurry, you can easily knock it off in an hour.  What remains afterwards are a few confused impressions of the trip - fights, drugs, music, cars.  Oh, and an overwhelming feeling of relief that you've made it out in one piece.  It might be a nice place to visit, but...

Did it deserve to make the shortlist?
No.  I enjoyed this book, but the more I think about it, the less highly I rate it.  Some of the stories are rather obvious (particularly the mafia-heavy ones), and many of them blur into each other.  A few do stand out, but Ten is a little too light-weight to be considered for the main prize.  I waited five weeks for my library to get this to me - it wasn't really worth that much of a wait.

Why didn't it make the shortlist?
While there are several other slim books on the shortlist, this is one of the slightest, in terms of both volume and content.  I also feel that while there's nothing really wrong with the book (it's a great, quick read), it really suffers in comparison with Yoko Ogawa's Revenge.  Now *that's* how to write a series of nasty, interlinked stories ;)

*****
And, so, dear reader, we head off again on the last leg of our journey.  The final stop for 2014 will be in Poland, where we get to trudge through the snow to witness a rather tension-fraught meal.

I hope there's something for us to eat too - I'm starving...

'Rücken an Rücken' ('Back to Back') by Julia Franck (Review - IFFP 2014, Number 12a)

Today's stop on the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize trail takes us back in time, and behind the Iron Curtain.  It's a novel which looks at growing up in a country whose doors to the outside world are about to be closed, a decision which will leave its mark on the coming generations...

*****
Back to Back by Julia Franck - Harvill Secker
(translated by Anthea Bell)
What's it all about?
(East) Berlin, 1954 - an eleven-year-old girl and her ten-year-old brother are cleaning their house in preparation for the return of their mother from a journey.  Ella and Thomas spend two days scrubbing the house from top to bottom, and when their mother finally arrives, the two hope that she will recognise their efforts.

Käthe, however, a sculptress obsessed with her art and politics, is not your average mother.  She ignores her children's efforts, just the first in a long line of actions which will affect their lives as they grow up in a country which won't leave them alone.  As they finally reach adulthood, the ideological line between East and West is reinforced by a more tangible division.  Under the shadow of the wall, Tom and Ella will need to find ways to cope with life in a prison state...

Back to Back is not a pleasant book to read.  Right from the tense homecoming described in the first section, Käthe overshadows her children, trying to form them with her will into offspring worthy of the new state she believes in.  Tom and Ella actually have other siblings, twins who spend most of their time farmed out to foster families and homes, but Käthe has no time for the softer side of family life, caught up as she is in her art and her politics:

"Ihre Liebe war unbarmherzig, aber es war Liebe, daran mochte er nicht Zweifeln.  Grimmig verzog sie ihr schönes Gesicht: Was weißt du schon von der Welt?"
p.144 (Fischer Verlag, 2013)

"Her love was merciless, but it was still love, of that he had no doubt.  She fiercely screwed up her beautiful face: what do you know about the world?" (my translation)

Käthe's actions are underpinned by her belief that she is right, but this belief is a heavy weight which her two eldest children are forced to carry.

Of the two children, it's Ella who attracts most of the attention early in the book.  As she grows up, she begins to rebel against her mother, stealing money from her purse and only attending school when she feels like it.  Her strong exterior hides the fact that she's actually powerless, though, and her growing sexuality is tempered by experiences in her own home which she really shouldn't be subjected to.

As the novel progresses, the focus switches to Thomas.  A gentle, intelligent boy, Thomas would seem set for a bright future, were it not for the fact that he's trapped in prison-ship GDR.  Suspicion of intelligence, coupled with disdain for Käthe's privileged upbringing, means that a boy who should have been sent straight to university is forced to endure hard labour and outright bullying.  While Käthe believes that it's all for the best, she doesn't realise just how damaging her plans are for her beloved son:

"In einem abgeschlossenen System ist Zukunft undenkbar.  Michael holte kräftig aus, er streckte sich, um der länge nach mit dem Pinsel über die Tapete zu streichen.  Die Mauer macht uns endgültig zu Tieren im Zoo." (p.193)

"In a closed-off system, the future is unthinkable.  Michael reached right out, stretching himself to paint over the wallpaper with his brush.  The wall is turning us into animals in the zoo." (my translation)

With no future in sight, at least none that he wants, Thomas' fate is destined to be a gloomy one.  If only someone can come and lift him out of his depression...

Back to Back is not a happy book for anyone, least of all the reader.  It's a depressing, claustrophobic story, with the parallel prisons of Käthe's tough love and the newly-formed Communist state taking their toll on both reader and protagonists alike.  Of course, it's written in hindsight, and that colours the way the book has been structured.  However, if this really is how life was 'over there', it's little wonder that the fall of the wall (initially, at least) was met with such joy...

Did it deserve to make the shortlist?
No, not quite.  I eventually had this as a top-ten book, which was a lot higher than most of my fellow Shadow Panelists viewed it!  My background in German studies probably helped endear this book to me as I'm very interested in East Germany (and surprised that another book on the country, Eugen Ruge's In Times of Fading Light, was overlooked this year).

It's far from perfect though, and the book falls into the trap of being too black and white (the good are angelic, and the bad are demonic).  Käthe is slightly too much of a caricature at times, although Franck does manage to give her some human moments.  All in all, it's a book I'm glad I read, but I can see why others might not have liked it.

Why didn't it make the shortlist?
Quite simply, because there was too much competition this year, particularly from some natural competitors.  In particular, Birgit Vanderbeke's The Mussel Feast did a lot more in a much shorter time.  Like the GDR itself, Back to Back can be a little too stiff and restrictive, meaning that it doesn't have that spark of life which makes a book shine...

*****
If this one was a slow, ponderous read, next week's book is anything but.  We're off to Italy to spend some time pounding the streets of Naples.  Thou shalt not miss this one, really - it's an offer that's too good to refuse ;)

'Revenge' by Yoko Ogawa (Review - IFFP 2014, Number 12)

Well, we've left the Middle-East behind, and today's leg of the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize journey takes us to Japan, where we'll be enjoying some carrots, tomatoes and strawberry shortcake.  Don't get too comfortable though - in the hands of today's writer, any meal is likely to leave a bitter aftertaste...

*****
Revenge by Yoko Ogawa - Harvill Secker
(translated by Stephen Snyder)
What's it all about?
Revenge is a collection of eleven stories, beautifully written in Ogawa's (and Snyder's) usual simple, clipped language.  Everything is set out precisely, and yet the reader always has the sense that the serene surface is hiding something:

"You could gaze at this perfect picture all day - an afternoon bathed in light and comfort and perhaps never notice a single detail out of place, or missing."
'Afternoon at the Bakery', pp.1/2 (Harvill Secker, 2013)

And right from the start, the writer is mocking us, telling us that something is not quite right.  But let's face it, we should expect that - Ogawa is the queen of the slightly askant...

What follows are a collection of tales where ordinary people going about their daily lives are shown to be somewhat other than normal.  From the woman waiting to buy some strawberry shortcake for her dead son ('Afternoon at the Bakery'), to the bag maker with an obsession for perfection ('Sewing for the Heart'), the writer casually introduces her cast onto the stage, gently setting them off walking, knowing all the while that just around the corner... well, you know.  She must be a *very* cruel woman...

There's a lot more to Revenge than isolated stories of oddballs and psychopaths though - as soon as the reader moves on to the second story ('Fruit Juice'), they realise that Ogawa has a slightly more complex idea in hand.  You see, each of the stories takes something from the previous one and runs with it, with minor characters suddenly appearing in the spotlight, their actions now centre stage.  Even better, the deeper we get into Ogawa's world, the more tangled the web of connections becomes, with people and objects harking back to several earlier stories.  By the time we get to the last of the eleven tales, 'Poison Plants', it's no surprise that the central character leads us back to the start of the book, completing a circle.

With this in mind, the reader is always on the look out for recurring themes, spotting reappearances by former characters and speculating on the significance of such innocent items as carrots, bags, clocks and strawberry shortcake.  Every action has to be analysed for similarities with previous (or future) events:

"When I'm curled up in his arms like this, I can never tell how my body looks to him.  I worry that I seem completely ridiculous, but I have the ability to squeeze into any little space he leaves for me.  I fold my legs until they take up almost no room at all, and curl in my shoulders until they're practically dislocated.  Like a mummy in a tomb.  And when I get like this, I don't care if I never get out; or maybe that's exactly what I hope will happen."
'Welcome to the Museum of Torture', p.82

A sweet description of a lover's embrace?  Hmm.  There are echoes there of a similar, less romantic scene from the very first story...

As with other Ogawa works, the central idea here is that people are strange and that it is impossible to see what lurks beneath a smiling face or within a beautiful body.  The idea of being 'normal' is held up to the light and examined, distorted, until it becomes hideous and unbearable.  Revenge goes one better, though, in the way that it also explores the interconnectedness of our society (one thought that popped into my mind is that it's like a dark, twisted version of The Beatles song 'Penny Lane'!), and one reading is nowhere near enough to uncover all the links between the stories.  This is a book that demands to be reread - possibly backwards ;)

Did it deserve to make the shortlist?
Oh, yes.  This is easily the most impressive of the books I've read since the longlist announcement, one I devoured in a matter of hours (having started it about half an hour after it dropped through my letter box!).  It's a superb book, well written, with an excellent translation (I'm a big fan of Snyder), and another piece of what should become an impressive Ogawa legacy in English - with over twenty books published in Japan, we have a lot of treats yet to come.

Just one thing puzzles me, though - how on earth did The Housekeeper and the Professor get translated before this?!

Why did it make the shortlist
Because it's an excellent book, a clever collection of stories which is more akin to a novel really, and with the IFFP crying out for female writers on the shortlist, it's little wonder that Revenge made it.  And do you know what?  It stands a very good chance of taking out the whole thing too ;)

*****
Next up on the itinerary is Germany, as we head back in time to Berlin in the fifties.  A woman with two children living in the country, a joyful, idyllic tale...

...sorry - I lied.  More doom and gloom coming up next week :(

'Exposure' by Sayed Kashua (Review - IFFP 2014, Number 11)

After a little time in Iraq, today's Independent Foreign Fiction Prize stopover takes us to Israel, where we'll hang around in Jerusalem and meet a couple of the country's Arab inhabitants.  They're very different people, but their lives are inextricably bound - by a small scrap of paper...

*****
Exposure by Sayed Kashua - Chatto & Windus
(translated by Mitch Ginsberg)
What's it all about?
We first meet a lawyer in Jerusalem, a young Arab living in comfort with his wife and two children.  While he's happy with his lot, he knows deep down that he has missed out on certain facets of a more cultural upbringing, so he likes to buy books from time to time (even if he doesn't always read them...) in an attempt to build up some cultural street cred.

One day though, after buying a copy of Tolstoy's Kreutzer Sonata, he finds that he's getting more than he bargained for.  Inside the book, there's a love letter - one which the lawyer is convinced is in his wife's handwriting.  It's at this point that we jump back a few years to a second strand of the story, one in which a young social worker is about to meet an attractive young woman.  Perhaps the lawyer's suspicions aren't that far off the truth...

Exposure is an interesting, highly plot-driven book, a novel which, in addition to constructing a race against time over two different periods, takes a look at the lives of the (successful) Arabs of the Israeli state:

"Lawyers, accountants, tax advisors, and doctors - brokers between the noncitizen Arabs and the Israeli authorities, a few thousand people, living within Jerusalem but divorced from the locals among whom they reside.  They will always be seen as strangers, somewhat suspicious, but wholly indispensable."
p.10 (Chatto & Windus, 2013)

Our lawyer is a prime representative of these people, and he has become fairly successful in his dealings with the poorer Arabs living in Jerusalem.

The social worker is a different story.  He has just started out on his professional path, wasting his time in a clinic where there's very little to do.  An outsider from a young age, he's in no hurry to return to his village, detesting the overgrown children who strut about there:

"I couldn't figure out how it was that these overgrown kids could still intimidate me.  You idiots, you assholes, if only you knew what I know.  If only you knew what you look like to people who don't live in these little hole-in-the-wall towns.  If only you could see how lame your lives are.  If you had even the slightest awareness of your social status, you'd lock yourself up in your house and never come out." (p.273)

However, he's also struggling to find a place for himself in a confusing, alien society, a second-class citizen living amongst the elite.  It's then that he begins a part-time job looking after a young Jewish man in a coma, a man who he actually resembles physically.  This resemblance leads to an idea which will both change his life and threaten the lawyer's attempts to track him down years later.

This book was published in the US under the title Second Person Singular, and both the title and the cover (with an Arab man hiding his face behind a book with a Jewish man's face on the cover) hint at a subtle, literary text.  This UK version, by contrast, is going for more of a thriller vibe, with its short title, familiar thriller-style design and an intriguing blurb:

"Maybe it was just a game, I don't know.  But suddenly, I was someone else, someone unfamiliar, foreign..."

Having read the book, I tend to think that the British publisher had the right idea - this is a book to pitch to thriller readers, not fans of literary fiction...

Did it deserve to make the shortlist?
No, sorry, not in my opinion.  It's not a bad book - although it starts very slowly, the pace slowly increases, and it's definitely a page-turner.  The two-strand idea works well, culminating in a meeting which closes the story off nicely (I'm still not completely sure whether the ending is clever or cheesy though...).  It's not really a book that I'd expect to see in this kind of prize, however, with some fairly pedestrian prose in places.

While it's actually not the worst of the books I've read from the longlist so far, I'd have been very disappointed if this had made it into the final six.  Which is not to say that I wouldn't recommend it.  If you like the sound of this plot, please go ahead and read it - just don't expect anything too profound...

Why didn't it make the shortlist?
I'm not really sure why it made the longlist, to be honest...

*****
Well, moving on from Israel, it's time to pack up and head off to Japan, where we'll be meeting a whole array of characters in a fairly short book.  Once again, however, things beneath the surface are a lot darker than they first appear - if you were looking forward to a happy read, you might be waiting a while...

IFFP 2014 - Two Shortlists

Well, the judges began about a month back by announcing fifteen candidates for the 2014 Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, and the field has now been cut to just six.  While nine books will retreat, licking their wounds, the remaining half-dozen will live to fight another day, all hoping to be crowned top dog in May :) 

Just who are those top six?  Well, it's actually a top ten - you see, the Shadow Panel, as always, sees things a little differently ;)

The Official Shortlist

Strange Weather in Tokyo by Hiromi Kawakami

A Man in Love by Karl Ove Knausgaard

The Mussel Feast by Birgit Vanderbeke

The Iraqi Christ by Hassan Blasim

A Meal in Winter by Hugo Mingarelli

Revenge by Yoko Ogawa

The Shadow Shortlist

The Sorrow of Angels by Jón Kalman Stefánsson

The Corpse Washer by Sinan Antoon

A Man in Love by Karl Ove Knausgaard

The Mussel Feast by Birgit Vanderbeke

The Infatuations by Javier Marías

Brief Loves that Live Forever by Andreï Makine

This year, there are only two books overlapping (The Mussel Feast and A Man in Love), and while there's nothing on the official list which offends me (unlike the previous two years), I'd still have to say that the Shadow list is far stronger.  Lovers of beautiful prose will be dismayed at the exclusion of The Sorrow of Angels, The Infatuations and Brief Loves that Live Forever from the official list, and several people had The Corpse Washer down as a dark horse for the entire thing.  Still, Stu, David, Jacqui, Bellezza, Tony and myself all have the chance to give them their moment in the sun, as they're still in with a shout of the Shadow Prize :)

As for the real thing, a few points to note.  Firstly,three of the shortlisted works are by women, and while I can't help but feel that this is a deliberate choice, given the discussions about the lack of submissions by female writers in recent years, they're all great books and worthy of the attention.

Secondly, two of them are short-story collections, and that's a big surprise (I know a certain blogger who will be very happy to hear of their inclusion!).  Short stories don't always fare well in these competitions, so well done to both Ogawa and Blasim.

Finally, I'm very happy for two of my favourite small presses, Comma Press and Peirene Press, for managing to get a book onto the shortlist.  Peirene have had four successive longlistings, but this is their first shortlisting - well done!  Oh, and can I just say I told you so... ;)

That's all for the shortlists then - now we look ahead to the unveiling of this year's grand champion, the Yokozuna of the translated fiction world.  The official prize will be announced on the 22nd of May, and I'm sure the slightly more prestigious Shadow Prize will be awarded a day or two before.  Stick around, though - there's a lot more to read and discuss before all that happens :)

'The Corpse Washer' by Sinan Antoon (Review - IFFP 2014, Number 10)

Stop number ten on the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize magical mystery tour takes us back to Iraq, a country we last visited in encountering The Iraqi Christ.  Today's book also has a religious side as we meet a young man involved with sending people on their way to the afterlife - with a few bowls of water...

*****
The Corpse Washer by Sinan Antoon - Yale University Press
(translated by the author)
What's it all about?
Jawad, the son of an Iraqi mghassilchi (washer of corpses), is expected to follow in his father's footsteps, especially after his brother's death in the Iran-Iraq war.  The young man has other ideas though, having been inspired by one of his teachers to become an artist, later choosing to concentrate on sculpture.  Braving his father's disapproval, he decides to escape the cool, dark wash-house and dreams of studying abroad.

However, these dreams are dashed by the outbreak, and aftermath, of the Second Gulf War.  With Baghdad occupied by American troops, the idea of time at a European university seems light-years away, and when his father dies, Jawad is forced to rethink his decisions.  Money is scarce, but in a city rocked by sectarian violence, corpses are not...

The Corpse Washer was a surprise to most of the Shadow Panelists, perhaps the least-known of the books on the longlist.  It was definitely a nice surprise though, an elegant little book which gives a fascinating insight into a time and place which, while  known superficially from the news, is in reality almost completely alien.

The book begins by introducing the concept of the mghaysil, a place for Muslims to be ritually cleaned before being buried.  Jawad's father is a master of the art, and for decades he has been preparing the people of the city for their final resting place in a calm, professional, caring manner.  At this point, the writer describes the process masterfully, choosing to use short, simple unhurried sentences, dispensing with sequencing words; it all gives the impression of a well-rehearsed ritual, taking away any mixed feelings the reader may have on entering a house of the dead.

This life is not for Jawad, though.  Even on his first professional visit, there to help his father out during the summer holidays, we sense that this is not what he wants for himself.  On a later visit, the signs are even more ominoums

"I got to the mghaysil, the washhouse.  The door was ajar.  I crossed the walkway and saw the Qur'anic verse "Every soul shall taste death" in beautiful Diwani script hanging over the door.  The yellowish paint on the wall was peeling away because of the humidity from the washing.  Father was sitting in the left corner of the side room on a wooden chair listening to the radio.  Death's traces - its scents and memories - were present in every inch of that place.  As if death were the real owner and Father merely an employee working for it and not for God, as he liked to think."
p.11 (Yale University Press, 2013)

For Jawad, this is the realm of death, and for a young man bursting with life, escape is the only possible choice.

As much as The Corpse Washer is a story of Jawad's choices, it's also a picture of Iraq during the American occupation.  This is the period that Antoon focuses on, and the occupying forces, while only briefly shown, do not come off in a good light, being portrayed as uninterested in preventing the inevitable decay of Baghdad.  Of course, suicide bombers and power cuts don't help the situation any, and when Jawad's uncle returns from Europe for a visit, he's astounded by what he sees:

"Wasn't this the most beautiful neighborhood?  Look at it now.  Then you have all this garbage, dust, barbed wires, and tanks.  There aren't any women walking down the street anymore!  This is not the Baghdad I'd imagined.  Not just in terms of the people.  Even the poor palm trees are tired and no one takes care of them.  Believe me, these Americans, with their ignorance and racism, will make people long for Saddam's days." (p.96)

Baghdad was a city long known for tolerance and learning, but the American occupation, far from restoring the city to its former glories, unfortunately appears to have made things worse.

In the end, though, the reader always returns to Jawad and his journey.  Despite his best attempts to escape, through art, love and flight, he is destined to return to the mghaysil, unable to throw aside a rather weighty legacy.  Like the old pomegranate tree outside the wash-house, kept fresh by the water running from the body of corpses, Jawad's life is made possible by the wages of death, his whole existence financed by corpses.  The question we are left with is whether that's really such a bad thing...

Does it deserve to make the shortlist?
My initial feeling was not quite.  It's not that the book isn't very good - on the contrary, it's probably one of the finds of the longlist.  However, while there are few real stand-outs this year, the level of the top eight or so books is very high, and I'm not sure this one quite makes it into the top six. 

One reason for this is the way the American occupation is handled.  With the Iran-Iraq war and the brutality of the Saddam regime glossed over, it seems a little strange to focus purely on this period as a bad one.  No doubt this would not come across in the same way to an Iraqi reading the original Arabic text, but to me the style of the book as a whole was interrupted by some of these scenes.

I'm also on the fence a little about the self-translation decision.  It's definitely not a bad translation, and you sense that the writer has been able to give the book a flavour that an outsider might not have been able to recreate.  However, there were a few inconsistencies and odd phrasings which I felt that a more accomplished translator would have ironed out.  Of course, the main problem with translating the book yourself is that everyone knows you did it - and is waiting to pounce on errors ;)

Coming back to the question, I'm starting to change my mind a little.  It's been about a week since I finished The Corpse Washer, and its stocks have continued to rise.  Hmm - I think I'll reserve judgement here ;)

Will it make the shortlist?
I think it'll go close :)  I wonder which book will impress the judges more - the calm, elegant prose of The Corpse Washer or the horrifying, heart-breaking violence of Ma Jian's The Dark Road.  If they decide to go down the literary path, I think Antoon's book may have a shot, but this is the IFFP, and you never know what those judges are thinking...

*****
Time to wrap things up in Iraq then and get moving.  No need to hurry though, as our next destination isn't too far away - I'll meet you all in Jerusalem for the next leg of our IFFP journey :)

'The Dark Road' by Ma Jian (Review - IFFP 2014, Number 9)

After a couple of diversions, I'm back on my Independent Foreign Fiction Prize journey, with today's leg taking us on a watery trip though the Chinese provinces.  A word of warning before we begin, though - this is most definitely not one for the faint of heart (or weak of stomach)...

*****
The Dark Road by Ma Jian - Chatto & Windus
(translated by Flora Drew)
What's it all about?
Meili is a young woman pregnant with her second child, which in most places would be a cause for celebration.  Sadly, this is late-twentieth-century China, and the womb is the property of the state, meaning that for those who get pregnant without permission, the so-called Family Planning Officers are able to come and issue fines - or worse.

With Meili's husband, Kongzi (a seventy-sixth-generation descendant of Confucius) set on producing a male heir, the small family is forced to flee their home village, taking to the polluted waterways in an attempt to find a safe place to bring a son into the world.  Sadly, there are few safe places in this country, particularly for those unfortunate enough to be born both peasants and poor - this is a journey which will take a very, very long time...

A warning - The Dark Road is one of the most upsetting books I've ever read.  From the very first chapter, Ma plunges the reader into a chaotic, brutal world where our nerves are shredded simply by reading about Meili's experiences.  Every time that Meili and Kongzi appear to be making headway, you can guarantee that there's another disaster waiting around the corner, each more horrible than the last.

It's a novel of life in a totalitarian state, a country which has taken control of the most basic functions of life.  Most people will have heard of the One-Child Policy, but few will have envisaged the way in which it was carried out:

"SEVER THE FALLOPIAN TUBES OF POVERTY;
 INSERT THE IUDS OF PROSPERITY."
p.15 (Chatto & Windus, 2013)

The state has its eye on all women of child-bearing age, jumping in with mandatory IUD insertion and forced sterilisations, seemingly on a whim.  With slogans like this posted and painted on walls all over the towns and villages, it's a wonder that women dare to fall pregnant at all.

That they do, and this is certainly the case with Meili, is mainly due to the importance of the male heir in Chinese society.  In fact, while the state may have primary control of the uterus, the husband is next in line, well before the woman herself.  As one of Meili's friends comments:

"Take my advice: never rely on a husband for your happiness.  The government persecute men, then men persecute their wives in return." (p.26)

Much of Meili's suffering is brought about by the stubbornness of her husband.  A kind, educated, decent man, he is simply unable to accept life without a son and is determined to do anything he can to fulfil his filial duty.  You'd think that the well-being of his wife and daughter would take priority when the Family Planning Officers are (literally) above the law - you'd be wrong...

The novel is about far more than the effects of the One-Child Policy though.  The family's flight southwards allows the writer to take aim at several other contemporary Chinese issues.  Some of them are environmental, such as the effect on the communities forcibly relocated to make way for the impending Three Gorges Dam and the horrific pollution caused by the dumping of recycled electronic products in Guangdong Province.  The picture Ma paints of this part of China is not a pretty one.

However, the novel also explores the plight of the 'peasant' in a country where (as was the case in countries like France and Russia centuries ago) free movement is impossible.  Meili dreams of becoming a city dweller, but while she is able to mimic city fashions, she has little hope of actually making it one day:

"So, what documents do you need to avoid arrest?" Dai asks, brushing some white cotton fluff from his jumper.
"Identity card, health certificate, temporary urban residence permit, temporary work permit, birth permit, marriage licence..." Kongzi says, rattling off the list.  "But even if you have them all, if you are in a big town or city, and you look like a peasant, they'll still arrest you.  And once you're in handcuffs, they'll squeeze as much money from you as they can." (p.101)

With corrupt officials all around, one false step will see Meili lose all the ground she has painstakingly made over years.  It's not easy being a 'peasant'.

In the end though, the story always comes back to Meili and the fight for a chance to raise her children in freedom.  It's an incredible tale, made all the more chilling by the realisation that it's mostly true.  The writer spent time incognito in China researching the information - not only could this happen, it did, every day...

Does it deserve to make the shortlist?
Personally, I'm undecided.  The Dark Road is an excellent book, both fascinating and compelling, but it has one flaw for me, and that is the way the writer strings the reader along with his plotting.  While it's an important novel, one which allows us to witness events we would not have been able to experience otherwise, there are far too many cliffhangers and dramatic scenes.  Ma deliberately ratchets up the tension time and time again before finally unloading the next bombshell - it's certainly effective, but I felt manipulated at times, and that took the novel down a few points in my estimation.

Will it make the shortlist?
Almost definitely.  This has all the makings of a potential winner, ticking just about every IFFP box you can think of.  In my BTBA v IFFP discussion a while back, one idea that came up was that the British prize is very much concerned with problems and social issues, and this is a fairly major one.  A couple of years back, Yan Lianke's Dream of Ding Village, a novel about an AIDS epidemic in China brought about by a drive for selling blood, made the shortlist (and was highly commended) - The Dark Road is a far better novel.  Don't be surprised if you see Ma Jian and Flora Drew (writer and translator, husband and wife) accepting the prize in May :)

*****
Time to move on, and while I'd love something cheery after all these dramas, I suspect that I'm unlikely to get it.  The next stop on the tour is Iraq, and in a country devastated by war, there are pretty much guaranteed to be corpses...