Category Archives: .Translation

Decoded by Mai Jia, translated by Olivia Milburn and Christopher Payne

DecodedThe layers here are astonishing, revealed through the filtered lens of an unnamed narrator who gathers the shared experiences, memories, and words about an enigmatic, brilliant man who has lost his sanity by the time the narrator’s research begins. The subject is Rong Jinzhen – orphan, mathematical genius, unparalleled code breaker, national hero. In spite of the narrative spotlight, he is allowed a mere two instances to speak for himself: in a message written in his own blood professing lifelong devotion to his adoptive mother, and in a lost-then-found blue notebook that can only be partially divulged as a redacted afterthought.

The Rong family’s fortune accumulated through salt, until a peripatetic member of the seventh generation becomes “the first person … to break from their mercantile heritage and become an academic.” After an education overseas, he founded what would become “the famous N University.” The most illustrious of the eighth Rong generation is an extraordinary woman who assisted the Wright brothers take to the sky, but childbirth takes her life. Her genius is reborn in her illegitimate grandson Jinzhen.

The narrator spends “two years on the railways of southern China, travelling the country to interview the fifty-one middle-aged or elderly eyewitnesses to these events” that comprise Jinzhen’s major life events: his birth, his early years as “Duckling,” his adoption by relatives, his university life as a teenage prodigy, his sudden induction into Unit 701 – the most elite division of code-breakers for China’s secret service – and what follows in the decades hence.

As Jinzhen attempts to decipher the impossible, the anonymous narrator works assiduously to graft together his subject through multiple voices with varying degrees of reliability. The Rashomon-esque story is filled with countless phrases meant to reassure: “to tell you the truth,” “to put it another way,” “in other words,” and yet that truth remains elusive throughout. Regardless of all who weigh in with scattered glimpses of family, mentorship, marriage, and career, Jinzhen’s own personal ‘codes’ remain incomplete and unknowable.

First published in 2002, Decoded was Mai Jia’s first novel; since its debut, Mai has catapulted into top-selling stardom in his native China, including winning his country’s top honor, the Mao Dun Literature Prize. He writes seemingly what he knows, having spent almost two decades as a soldier and possible spy in China’s “intelligence services,” according to his publisher bio. Decoded marks Mai’s arrival Stateside in translation; smart, compelling, exceptional as it proves to be, it should ensure more of his titles will be western-bound.

Tidbit: Not wanting to sully the novel itself, I’m adding this warning here: Choose the page. Why does a novel set in China, populated mostly by Chinese characters, need to be narrated in fake-Chinese-inflected English? The implication is that the characters are incapable of fluently speaking their own language. Really?! Because it’s a Chinese novel-in-translation that needs to be slapped with spurious exotica to sell it stuck in the ears? Narrator Ryan Gesell (an L.A. native clearly not of Asian descent) uses a similarly fabricated accent in Jamie Ford’s Songs of Willow Frost, giving U.S.-born Asian American characters a ching-chong flair. Is this aural yellowfacing offensive to anyone else?

Readers: Adult

Published: 2002 (China), 2014 (United States)

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Filed under ..Adult Readers, .Audio, .Fiction, .Translation, Chinese

Ripper by Isabel Allende, translated by Ollie Brock and Frank Wynne

RipperJust as her latest book was hitting shelves, the near-deified Isabel Allende opened mouth, inserted foot during an interview on NPR and set off a firestorm of negative reaction. On mysteries, she intoned, “I will take the genre, write a mystery that is faithful to the formula and to what the readers expect, but it is a joke.” Uh-oh. Two-and-a-half weeks later (after at least one bookstore returned all copies to her publisher), she was out apologizing, insisting her own comments were the joke. They say no press is bad press, but …

Having already loaded Ripper on my iPod before her ‘joke’ grabbed headlines, curiosity made me hit that ‘play’-button. I would have loved a studio sneak peek to see what sort of faces narrator Edoardo Ballerini must have made while recording what became the final 14.5 hours; to his credit, except for briefly stumbling over a Scottish accent, Ballerini admirably slogs through the almost-500 pages.

“My sleuth will not be this handsome detective or journalist or policeman or whatever. It will be a young, 16-year-old nerd,” Allende revealed in that infamous interview. [Call me wrong, but Amanda seems to be 17 here, referenced thusly on pages 30, 146, and 190.] “My female protagonist will not be this promiscuous, beautiful, dark-haired, thin lady. It will be a plump, blond, healer, and so forth.”

What Allende should have also warned was that she was throwing in just about every stereotype: the ex-vet Asiaphile who can’t satisfy his dragon-lady S&M girlfriend (because he couldn’t finish that “manual” with “something beige in the title – or maybe it was gray”), the arrogant old rich man who falls for someone of the wrong net worth, the innocent good girl corrupted by the popular big-boy-on-campus, the Asian houseboy (although he has the glorified title of ‘butler’ – so that at least one person can say, ‘the butler did it’; he didn’t), and on and on! Oh, she even adds ghosts (magic realism made Allende mega-famous, after all) – including one named Sharbat, “like the girl with green eyes on the famous National Geographic cover“!

So that ‘nerdy’ sleuth, Amanda, and her grandfather/”henchman,” Kabel (an acronym of his real name Blake), regularly play a computer-facilitated game called Ripper with a group of motley teens scattered around the world. They’re the first to discover that the gruesome murders plaguing San Francisco are the work of a serial killer, long before Amanda’s father – “deputy chief of homicide detail” – and his team catch on. Meanwhile, Amanda’s long-divorced mother Indiana – that “plump” protagonist – is caught between two men, leaving her rather oblivious to the rest of reality; after eight murders, she goes missing …

Mystery/thriller aficionado I’m not, but I had the whodunnit figured out as soon as the character appeared, with hours upon hours to go as yet. Because the murderer was so obvious, I convinced myself I couldn’t possibly be right, so I gritted it out to the bitter end; thank goodness at least I was multi-tasking because I’m never, ever going to get those hours back! Finally finished, I guess I can only claim temporary insanity.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2014

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Filed under ..Adult Readers, .Audio, .Fiction, .Translation, Latino/a, South American

Numeralia by Jorge Luján, illustrated by Isol, translated by Susan Ouriou

NumeraliaAlphabet and counting books are understandably so predictable as to often be interchangeable in their sameness. ABCs and 123s are really immutable … or are they? To stand out in such a saturated genre is a rare, welcome occurrence – so don’t dare miss the ingenious, utterly unique Numeralia.

Yes, of course, you’ll find the numbers 0 through 10 here. But what you’ll remember most with each numeral is uncountable whimsy and surprising delight. Jorge Luján – an award-winning Mexico City-based author, poet, architect, musician (!) – provides the cleverly layered, uncommon ideas, which Isol – winner of the 2013 Astrid Lindgren Memorial Award (the world’s richest children’s book prize!) – magically, artfully renders on the page. Talk about dynamic duo!

Let’s take “2 is for the duckling who is not so ugly after all”: that purposefully singular ‘ugly duckling’ is actually a small child wearing a silly mask, standing at the front of a boat that gives him that shape similar to his curious aquatic companions; meanwhile the aviary reflections of two ducklings in the water create mirror images of the upside-down numeral 2.

The number 6 also gets reflective representation: “6 for musketeers alongside their reflections” – which makes six figures on the page, in addition to the 6ish promontory in the distance, and the six bubbles the swordfish leaves in his wake.

The best comes last with “10 for a student’s thoughts lost in daydreams”; the corresponding illustration you’ll have to carefully, gratefully explore on your own (no more spoilers!).

Go head, give into curiosity: consider Numeralia as an inspiring investment in your child’s imagination. Learning numbers was never quite this original.

Readers: Children

Published: 2006, 2014 (United States)

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Filed under ..Children/Picture Books, .Fiction, .Translation, Latin American, South American

The Incredible Adventures of Dog Mendonça and PizzaBoy (I and II: Apocalypse) by Filipe Melo, art by Juan Cava, colors by Santiago Villa, translated by Raylene Lowe (I) and Philip R. Simon (II)

Incredible Adventures of Dog Mendonca and Pizzaboy 1.2

While watching evening TV that’s been interrupted by a special bulletin about the unending “wave of child abductions in Lisbon,” Eurico nods off, only to be jarred awake by the ringing telephone. He’s late again to his pizza delivery job, where his boss thinks he’s “a half-wit,” his best (only?) friend Vasco mops floors, and he dreams about asking out the love of his life Ana.

Finally out on delivery, Eurico gets his scooter stolen. When the police laugh off his sketch of the hooded culprit, Eurico seeks the help of “occult detective” Dog Mendonça who works with a chain-smoking little girl named Pazuul (who’s really a 6,000 year demon kicked out hell for not being “bad enough”). Eurico doesn’t exactly get his scooter back, but he does get the thief – at least the guilty gargoyle’s head whose missing body doesn’t deter his chatterbox tendencies.

Then child-like Pazuul – remember those kiddie kidnappings? – disappears and Dog, Eurico, and Gargoyle head for the sewers, where they end up having to save the rest of the city while they’re looking for their girlish demon buddy. Who needs a night job when you’re suddenly a superhero?

Alas, hero-ing apparently doesn’t pay the bills because five years later in Volume II, Eurico is stuck at a desk providing technical support. Dog and Pazuul reappear to rescue him from boredom, collect Gargoyle after severing his loquacious head yet again from the rest of his regrown body, and visit a bookstore (they’ll be needing a certain holy book). Thus begins their battle to save the world, this time taking on the Apocalypse (you did notice the subtitle, right?) in an epic battle of biblical proportions (couldn’t resist!). The volume ends with a bonus prequel, The Untold Tales of Dog Mendonça and PizzaBoy, which reveals how the original gruesome twosome (Dog and Demon) came to be – via family circus, immigration, ‘the code,’ and even the Loch Ness Monster.

So you could read these ‘incredible adventures’ – the two volumes are 2/3 of a trilogy – for the sheer guffaw-inducing, over-the-top entertaining stories that they are, splendiferously enhanced with eye-popping, jaw-dropping art … and be utterly satisfied. But, of course, these saturated pages hold so much more. Take, for example, who wrote the forewords: Volume I by John Landis (think Animal House, Thriller, An American Werewolf in Paris) and Volume II by George A. Romero (Night of the Living Dead and the zombie genre that never died). Those are major hints to some deeper references and meanings.

Then you have multi-levels of sly humor: that first German scream on p. 67 in Volume I roughly translates to “If you read this, then you understand German!” which actually has nothing to do with the action on the page; the type in the dialogue bubbles is printed upside down when the speakers are thusly hanging; in Volume II the would-be saviors choose a cuddly cutesie kiddie Bible because it’s not $30 and it “looks much better”; and I can only barely mention the whole religious (or not) meta-narrative going on. Oh, be still my ongoing giggles!

“[H]ow long do we have to wait for the next one?” Landis asks in Volume I; with II+just out, the question begs asking again. Our answer: Volume III: Requiem hits shelves November 10, 2014. Click here for the sneak-peek trailer, but before you hit play, be warned – you’ll be wanting more, more, more. Patience certainly isn’t my virtue!

Readers: Young Adult, Adult

Published: 2012 and 2013 (United States)

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Filed under ..Adult Readers, ..Young Adult Readers, .Fiction, .Graphic Novel/Manga/Manwha, .Translation, European

I’ll Be Right There by Kyung-sook Shin, translated by Sora Kim-Russell

I'll Be Right There*STARRED REVIEW
“I do not specifically reveal the era or elucidate Korea’s political situation,” writes Kyung-sook Shin, recipient of the 2011 Man Asian Literary Prize for Please Look After Mom, in the ending of her latest spectacular novel in English translation. Ironically, those missing details make this story urgently universal: in Israel/Palestine, Afghanistan, Egypt, Syria, and too many other countries in tumult, young people will continue to form life-changing bonds and fall hopelessly in love.

While people vanish without a trace and others die senselessly, Jung Yoon matures into young adulthood as she loses her beloved mother, meets a once-in-a-lifetime mentor professor, forms and renews intimate friendships, and creates “forever” memories with her first love. Her self-preservation in the midst of brutal turmoil comes at an impossibly high price. Years later, in spite of what she survives (and others do not), the title becomes an anthem to hope: “‘I hope you never hesitate to say, I’ll be right there.’” Shin’s searing, immediate prose will remind readers of Nadeem Aslam’s The Blind Man’s Garden, Edwidge Danticat’s The Dew Breaker, and Aminatta Forna’s The Memory of Love, and their stories of ordinary lives trapped in extraordinary sociopolitical circumstances.

Verdict: The well-earned lauds for Shin’s two titles currently available in English translation should ensure that more of her thus far 17 novels will arrive Stateside.

Review: “Fiction,” Library Journal, March 1, 2014

Readers: Adult

Published: 2014 (United States)

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Filed under ..Adult Readers, .Fiction, .Translation, Korean

Nijigahara Holograph by Inio Asano, translated by Matt Thorn

Nijigahara HolographLong before the latest translated-into-English title from award-winning transgender manga creator Inio Asano is due to hit shelves (fabulous Seattle-based publisher Fantagraphics lists an unspecified February pub date; Amazon lists March 19, 2014 and B&N March 5 for available shipping), the internet has been abuzz for years with fascinating discussions attempting to piece together what happens here. The Japanese original debuted in 2006; I’m not sure how long an English version has been available in the virtual world [forget Google –support the book!], but guessing from the dates of the substantial postings, I would say at least a couple of years, if not more. Having now read the book through thrice, I’m still not certain as the order and details of all the events, but I can say without a doubt that this is one head-spinning, un-put-downable, almost-300 pages of disturbing intrigue.

Composed as two overlapping narratives set some eleven years apart, the first page begins with butterflies, a set of crying twins, an open notebook, and a dark tunnel to nowhere. Dreams and reality become interchangeable over the decade-plus that separates elementary-school-aged childhood from adulthood for those infant twins who will witness mysterious, brutal occurrences that define their lives.

When a body turns up in the entrance to the Nijigahara (literally ‘rainbow meadow,’ certainly rife with meaning!) tunnel, rumors start circulating. The town’s young children insist that a monster lurks deep within: in a fit of terrifying violence, they decide to ‘sacrifice’ Arié – the daughter of a single father and the just identified corpse – and throw her down a long well.

While Arié lies in a coma, a new boy joins her fifth grade class; Amahiko, too, has survived violence, hospitalization, and is trying to fit in as the ‘new boy.’ Their teacher Miss Sakaki recognizes Amahiko as a troubled soul, and attempts to offer him special care. She has secrets of her own, however, least of all the cumbersome bandaging over one eye (again, certainly rife with meaning!) due to a recent injury.

Butterflies abound on many, many pages, fluttering in and out of the panels as if to gather the narrative threads together when they might seem to wander off too far. The winged prove uplifting and threatening both, children can’t fly, adults aren’t reliable, and the dead can still speak. Feeling lost? Go back to that first page to the bottom-left panels: the Nijigahara tunnel entrance with the handwritten journal pages. There you have the eponymous Nijigahara holograph: what follows is for you to decipher … do let me know what you find.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2006, 2014 (United States)

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Filed under ..Adult Readers, .Fiction, .Graphic Novel/Manga/Manwha, .Translation, Japanese

Hidden: A Child’s Story of the Holocaust by Loïc Dauvillier, illustrated by Marc Lizano, color by Greg Salsedo, translated by Alexis Siegel

HiddenPreorder this title now and you can stop reading here … you won’t, you can’t, you will not be disappointed.

Oh, fine. If you’re still with me, let me tell you about Elsa, a little girl who just can’t seem to fall asleep. She tiptoes out of her room and finds her grandmother wide awake. Noticing her sadness, Elsa reassures her grandmother, “You know, when I have a nightmare, I tell Mommy about it and that makes me feel better. You want to tell me?” Hesitant at first, her grandmother begins, “It was a long time ago. Grandma was still a little girl …”

Dounia Cohen, long before she was Elsa’s grandmother, “didn’t care who had won or lost” the war: In spite of France’s defeat by Germany in 1940, “My daddy had come home alive, and that was all the victory I needed.” Returning home unusually early one day, he suggests,”Some people suggested that we become a family of sheriffs.” Her mother sews the required yellow star onto Dounia’s coat: “Being a sheriff … is more of a boy’s job,” Dounia thinks. “But I don’t mind,” as she looks at her proud reflection in the mirror.

By the next morning, that Star of David has marked young Dounia not with privilege, but made her a target of abuse. “What had I done,” she asks in bewilderment. As a young Jewish child in occupied Paris, Dounia is shunned, isolated, hated without reason. When her parents are violently taken away from their own home, she is sheltered by Mrs. Péricard, the downstairs neighbor. Fearful of the returning police, Mr. Péricard devises a plan to help Dounia escape to safety; in the process, he gravely risks his own safety.

Dounia becomes Simone Pierret, a Catholic child who arrives on Germain’s farm with her “Mama” – Mrs. Péricard who has also given up her Paris life to care for the young girl. The war continues, but Dounia’s new identity – and the unlimited kindness of strangers – keeps her safe until reunion, at least in part, becomes possible …

Like Lola Rein‘s The Hidden Girl and Maryann Macdonald‘s more recent Odette’s SecretsHidden represents not only the 84% of Jewish children in France who escaped the Holocaust – the highest rate of survival for children in Europe – but also the 11,400 French children who were murdered during WWII. While Hidden bears witness to tragic history, the ultimate message is one of hope and redemption, that humanity can and will be effectively used against racism and hatred. Narratively and graphically, the French creative team proves spectacularly adept in balancing the nightmare with moments of innocent humor (“pink shoes”), unexpected laughter (“‘Does Grandpa know you were in love with another boy?’”), and joyful discovery (“‘I did it! I did it!’”). While some nightmares never quite fade, here’s hope that triumphant resolve will have longer staying power.

Readers: Middle Grade, Young Adult

Published: 2012, 2014 (United States)

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Filed under ...Absolute Favorites, ..Middle Grade Readers, ..Young Adult Readers, .Fiction, .Graphic Novel/Manga/Manwha, .Translation, European, Jewish

The Reason I Jump: The Inner Voice of a Thirteen-Year-Old Boy with Autism by Naoki Higashida, foreword by David Mitchell, translated by KA Yoshida and David Mitchell

Reason I JumpAs spare as this book is, it’s turned out to be one of the most bookmarked (with skinny stick-its) titles I’ve recently read. Written by an autistic Japanese then-13-year-old, the English translation arrives six years later courtesy of parents of an autistic child – internationally bestselling author David Mitchell (yes, he of Cloud Atlas-mega-fame) and his wife KA Yoshida. “The Reason I Jump was a revelatory godsend,” Mitchell writes in his “Introduction.” What began as “an informal translation of Naoki’s book into English so that our son’s other carers and tutors could read it, as well as a few friends who also have sons and daughters with autism in our corner of Ireland,” has resulted in this full translation – an international gift to the English-speaking many. [According to a March 2013 report from the Center for Disease Control, an estimated 1 in 50 children is diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, a 300% jump from 2012! ]

Especially for Mitchell and Yoshida, Jump provides two important epiphanies: 1. it “… offers up proof that locked inside the helpless-seeming autistic body is a mind as curious, subtle, and complex as yours, as mine, as anyone’s”; and 2. it “… unwittingly discredits the doomiest item of received wisdom about autism – that people with autism are antisocial loners who lack empathy with others.”

While spoken communication is “pretty much impossible, even now” for Higashida, he’s learned to write and blog by spelling out words directly onto an alphabet grid – he points out letters which a helper transcribes to “build up sentences, paragraphs, and entire books. Jump is composed of 58 questions with answers, interspersed with short-short stories, ending with a longer “I’m Right Here” – “I wrote this story in the hope that it will help you understand how painful it is when you can’t express yourself to the people you love.” In just over 100 pages, Higashida shares resonating inspiration …

  • We know we’re making you sad and upset, but it’s as if we don’t have any say in it, I’m afraid, and that’s the way it is. But please, whatever you do, don’t give up on us.
  • True compassion is about not bruising the other person’s self-respect.
  • [W]e really badly want you to understand what’s going on inside our hearts and minds. And basically, my feelings are pretty much the same as yours.
  • [B]eing able to share what I think allows me to understand that I, too, exist in this world as a human being.
  • I can’t believe that anyone born as a human being really wants to be left all on their own, not really.
  • We are more like travelers from distant, distant past. And if, by our being here, we could help the people of the world remember what truly matters for the Earth, that would give us quiet pleasure.
  • And when the light of hope shines on all this world, then our future will be connected with your future. That’s what I want, above all.

Although Mitchell writes that Jump contains “the answers we had been waiting for,” I find myself thinking ‘beware,’ as what little I know about autism has shown me that the spectrum is dramatically vast. What might be the answer for some, might not be helpful to others; indeed one size can’t fit all. That said, all parents and caregivers – even those whose lives have not been touched directly by autism – will find plenty of thoughtful, important messages to ponder over between these pages. Most importantly, the young Higashida surely has plenty to teach us about being just plain human.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2007, 2013 (United States)

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Filed under ..Adult Readers, .Memoir, .Nonfiction, .Translation, Japanese

Sickness Unto Death (vols. 1-2) by Hikaru Asada, illustrated by Takahiro Seguchi, translated by Vertical, Inc.

Sickness Unto Death 1.2

Determined to become a clinical psychologist, young Futaba arrives in an unnamed city to begin college. Before he even gets to his lodgings – arranged through a friend of his father’s – he helps a young woman who collapses in a crowded plaza. While he can’t deny her strange beauty, he’s more struck by her lifelessness: her colorless hair, pale skin “like glass,” her “mannequin’s” hand, her body “so frail it could snap.”

When he reaches his lodgings-to-be, he’s not only surprised he’ll be living in a mansion, but that the owner is none other than the sickly young woman. “Miss Emiru suffers from a terminal illness of the spirit,” Kuramoto – the mansion’s butler and only other resident – explains. Surrounded by nightmares, monsters, and death (oh, my!), Emiru proves to be an irresistible psychological challenge. How could such a caring (testosteroned!) young man turn away from someone so gorgeously needy …? Doctor/patient distance be damned (uhhh, he’s still just a student, so that’s okay?!). Will Futaba be able to save his own sanity as he battles her past?

The title is a nod to Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, who originally published the text in 1849 under what seems today to be a comical pseudonym, Anti-Climacus. You probably don’t need to read the eponymous psychological treatise on despair to get full benefit of this two-volume manga. That said, while Sickness might be less venerable than its namesake, it’s also not without subtle depth.

Take names, for example – a whole meta-narrative is happening in their possible literal meanings. As a new student, our young man Futaba (‘a bud, a sprout’) is a vessel for potential when he presents himself at the Ariga mansion. There he first faces Kuramoto (‘the foundation of darkness’) who has faithfully served the young heiress through dark, difficult times. Futaba next formally meets Emiru (‘to look at the picture) Ariga (‘to be a picture’), who is a mere semblance of who she once was; Ariga could also mean ‘to be congratulatory,’ perhaps a reference to her outcome as a result of Futaba’s intervention.

What happens to Emiru certainly raises thought-provoking questions, especially about (possible spoiler alert!) so-called ‘true’ identity in the case of multiple personalities, and who gets to determine who is ‘real’ and who is not. After reading both volumes, try this: line up the covers side by side and ask – whether doctor or patient, what would you do?

Readers: Young Adult, Adult

Published: 2013 (United States)

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Filed under ..Adult Readers, ..Young Adult Readers, .Fiction, .Graphic Novel/Manga/Manwha, .Translation, Japanese

A Well-Tempered Heart by Jan-Philipp Sendker, translated by Kevin Wiliarty

Well-Tempered HeartEvery once in a while, only the very best schmaltz will do. Earnest and endearing, this just-arriving-in-translation sequel to the international mega-bestseller, The Art of Hearing Heartbeats, is a through-the-night read that will leave you sighing and swooning.

Okay, so we’re not talking Nobel-quality: “‘I speak of a love that brings sight to the blind.’” We’re not particularly surprised by the cold shrink who thinks mind-altering drugs are the only cure, or the wise sage that has no use for colorful pills. We’re so sure that true love is going to happen that we’ll guess the ending long before the final page. But that’s all okay, because whatever their not-quite flaws, German journalist Jan-Philipp Sendker‘s novels somehow manage to provide a rare, cleansing catharsis. Besides, what’s a little loss of sleep when you can float through the rest of the day?

When Julia left her older brother U Ba in their father’s small village in Burma, she promised she would see him again “within a few months.” But almost a decades passes, and suddenly Julia finds herself unable to give an important presentation at her law office: an insistent voice in her head sends her running out of the meeting, the building, and soon enough, her high-powered city life. Her ties to Manhattan are virtually none: her engagement is broken, she’s estranged from her mother and brother, and her single best friend is not enough to tether her.

She arrives unannounced in Kalaw, where U Ba is ready with open arms. Only he fully understands about the voice, the black boots, the terror, the warnings. And together they begin a journey of discovery that will lead them to a woman and her two sons, and eventually towards forgiveness and redemption.

Julia’s first journey to Burma revealed her father’s left-behind past and bonded her to a half-brother she never knew she had. Just as her father followed his heart home, Julia is called back by a desperate stranger with impossible questions from the other side of the world. “Who are you? … Why do you live alone?  … What are you afraid of?” the disconnected voice relentlessly probes. But before Julia can answer, she must learn in her own heart “what is important” … might I add, surely a life lesson for us all.

Readers: Adult

Published: 2012, 2014 (United States)

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Filed under ..Adult Readers, .Fiction, .Translation, Burmese, Burmese American, European, Hapa, Southeast Asian