Burma

Not Out of Hate, Ma Ma Lay
မုန်း၍မဟူ, မမလေး 

I was killing some time in a bookstore in Bangkok recently while waiting to meet up with some friends. By chance I wandered past a shelf and this art deco Veronica-Lempicka-esque cover caught my eye and I happened to pick it up. I nearly fell over when I read the back cover and discovered the book was by a Burmese author, and was the first book published in English translation from the former hermit kingdom of Burma. A country virtually shut off from the modern world for nearly fifty years, there was as little leaving Burma as there was going in, and the country remained a black hole on many world-readers' lists. 

Although one of the country's very few female authors, Ma Ma Lay is widely acknowledged to be one of Burma's greatest twentieth-century writers. Her stories are known for authentic portrayals of modern Burmese society. Not Out of Hate, originally published in Burmese in 1955, explores the impact of the West on Burmese culture and society, as told through the story of a young, small-town woman who marries a Westernised man. The well-written story was made more poignant when post-reading contemplation led me to see the book as an allegory for the country as a whole.

As a translator myself, I found it quite interesting that Not Out of Hate's translator, Margaret Aung-Thwin, made frequent recourse to the use of footnotes to explain contextual and cultural elements of the book. Footnotes are certainly one possible strategy for translators to use when they encounter a concept that's difficult to translate because it doesn't exist in the other language, or a situation the foreign readers wouldn't understand because they lack the same cultural references. The general view is, however, that they are a distraction that breaks the flow of reading the text, and, as such, are rarely used by most translators. It's interesting to see through the use of footnotes here, the details and nuances that must sometimes be left by the wayside when translating otherwise.

Laos

Mother's Beloved: Stories from Laos, Outhine Bounyavong
ແພງແມ່: ອຸທິນ ບຸນຍາວົງ, ອຸທິນ ບຸນຍາວົງ

A trip to Laos was the opportunity to add this Southeast-Asian country to my list. An amazing and multifaceted country with virtually no fictional available in translation (my Lao is pretty rusty). A hunt through world-reader lists all suggested Mother's Beloved as their Laotian entry, and the bookshops I visited when I was there confirmed that this is the only book of fiction by a Laotian author available in English translation. As explained by the book's foreword, fiction simply hasn't been a longstanding part of Laotian culture, with most educated elites reading French classics in the past and traditional stories transmitted through oral storytelling traditions, drama, and song. 

I usually don't much enjoy reading lengthy forewords and always feel that I'd rather just dive into the book, despite the important and pertinent information a foreward usually contains. This was very much the case for Mother's Beloved, where the foreword was particularly revealing. It explained that after the communist revolution, writers became State employees who were charged with making the revolution's ideology accessible to the nation's people. Knowing that went a long way to explaining the short stories in the book as moralistic fables. It was interesting that a lot of the topics addressed still seemed very contemporary, such as the threat of war and environmental degradation. 

The simple stories tell of ordinary Laotian people and their customs, providing a window into the country's transformations and values following a period of upheaval. 

Australia

Jasper Jones
Craig Silvey

In checking geographically large Australia off the list, my world map now seems a lot more filled in, although there are +100 countries still to go.

This book came highly recommended by my better half, who cited it as a favourite. Many thanks for the suggestion, as I did indeed enjoy this book set in a small Australian town in the 1960s. The book's protagonist, Charlie, is a bookish, quiet type who is suddenly visited one night by the town's outcast, a rebellious mixed-race teenage troublemaker, begging Charlie for help.

Growing up in a small Canadian town, I found there was a lot I could relate to in the books themes – although frequent references to cricket naturally left me baffled. Craig Silvey, the author, was really quite masterful in creating the feeling of small town tension, where everyone is in everyone's business, minds are narrow, and the urge to escape weighs heavy.

Although the narratives of the books are very different, I found it interesting that my choice for neighbouring New Zealand, Once Were Warriors, also touches on many of the same themes of racism, an oppressive society, and the outsider's struggle.

Thailand II

Jasmine Nights
S.P. Somtow

With so many countries to read through, it seems almost insanity to be doubling back on a country, especially so early on in my literary travels. But part of travelling is seeing where the journey takes you. In this case, I was in Thailand for work and happened to be absent-mindedly flipping through my guidebook, as I am wont to do while eating my meals. I happened to come to the "Books" section of the guide, which mentions S.P. Somtow as "the J.D. Salinger of Siam". That certainly piqued my interest. Later, during a bit of free time one evening, I happened to wander into a bookstore and saw Jasmine Nights on display. I knew I was fated to read this book.

Interestingly, both Jasmine Nights and Four Reigns, my first entry for Thailand, are set in the same world of minor aristocrats and the Thai élite living in estates in Bangkok of the past. Four Reigns happens over a lifetime, ending in 1946, with Jasmine Nights picking up a bit later in 1963 and happening over just a few weeks. With televisions and the Vietnam War, modernity is a bit more present in this conflict of East meets West. The conflict, however, is not one of events, or people, but, interestingly, an internal one to the protagonist, who, despite being Thai, speaks only in English and insists his aunts and relatives call him Justin.

A funny coming of age story that was definitely worth my detour back to Thailand.

Albania

The Three-Arched Bridge, Ismail Kadare
Ura me tri harqe

A summer holiday in enigmatic Albania some years ago prompted the purchase of this book by Ismail Kadare, the leading literary figure of the country. Living and writing through the extreme and autocratic dictatorship of Enver Hoxha, he evaded politics (and scrutiny) by cloaking much of his fiction in history and folklore.

Very much in this vein, The Three-Arched Bridge is set in 1377 and is based on a traditional Albanian legend. The story centres on a mysterious group of builders who arrive to construct a bridge over a raging river in the remote mountains of the country. This leads to conflict with local officials and with river boatmen who squabble incessantly with each other and with the builders about the bridge, oblivious to the crumbling Byzantine Empire around them and the march of the Ottomans into Europe.

The story can be read as a parable for the history of Albania, with three major ethnic groups, Muslims, Catholics, and Orthodox, living side by side. It can also be read as a moral commentary of the petty differences and disagreements between these groups having exposed the country exposed to vagaries of historical forces marching on the country from without. An interesting insight into quite an unknown country.

Russian Federation

One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
Один день Ивана Денисовича, Александр Солженицын

A book I read rather a while ago that depressed the shit out of me. It follows titular character Ivan Denisovich as he lives the Kafkaesque nightmare of one average day in a Soviet gulag in Siberia. 

Most strangely to me was that, at the end of the book, Ivan feels his day has been productive, even "almost happy". He "went to sleep fully content. He'd had many strokes of luck that day." It's a real testament to how people can overcome misery. Perhaps the book is meant to be a triumph of the will, but mostly I came away from reading this with a dreadful feeling in the pit of my stomach about how people can be so cruel and malicious towards other human beings. – Not a easy beach read, to be sure.

I get the feeling that a lot of older Russian literature tends to be in this same vein of one person suffering through intolerable circumstances; think of Anna Karenina, Crime and Punishment, etc. I'd be quite interested to read something more contemporary to see if the literary undertones have changed with the times as Russia has changed. I see that Ann Morgan also read One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich for her Russia selection, but she also lists many contemporary writers for me to check out in the future. 

South Africa

Embrace
Mark Behr

Behr is another writer like my Bangladesh entry, Monica Ali, who is a bit hard to pin to one country. Behr was born on a farm family in Tanzania back when it was still known as Tanganyika. After the nationalisation of white-owned farms in 1964, his family emigrated to South Africa. He did most of his schooling there then served in the Angolan War, and lives now in the United States. His books deal largely with South Africa – his first was even written in Afrikaans – and since I don't have any other South African writers in my wheelhouse, I'll count this Tanzania-born, USA-residing author as my South Africa entry, for now at least. 

I read this book quite some time ago and didn't really remember much about it, certainly not the title or the author or anything helpful like that. Initially I thought it might be by South Africa's literary star, J.M. Coetzee. I had to go through descriptions of all of his books before determining that, no, it wasn't him. I was a bit stumped and had to do quite a bit of Internet sleuthing with various combinations of the only things I remembered about the book: "South Africa", "boarding school", "LGBT theme", before eventually teasing the title out of the web.

The other thing that I do remember taking away from this book is how well white South Africans lived in the 1970s when the book was set: teachers driving Volvos, students listening to Bang & Olufsen stereos in  the school's music room, that kind of stuff. I guess that's what you get when a small group oppresses and exploits everyone else. I'm looking forward to reading a book set in the period since then to see how much has changed.

United Kingdom

The Swimming Pool Library
Alan Hollinghurst

A novel set in the privileged world of upper-crust 1980s London, with the protagonist, Will, saving the life of an elderly aristocrat having a heart attack in a public lavatory, setting off the chain of events told in The Swimming Pool Library. 

Hollinghurst's narration is beguiling and vivid, evoking with effortless precision and clarity places most of us will have never experienced. Colonial Sudan and a London gentlemen's club arrive quickly on the page and clearly in one's mind, only to be replaced by other delicate and rich descriptions of people or actions or thoughts. A real pleasure to read. It was one of those few books that, on reaching the end, I wanted the story to keep going. In fact, it seemed as though the story was only getting started by the time I turned the last page. 

I have read some other Hollinghurst in the past, and I shall reserve a space on my bookshelf for some more in the future.

India

The Moor's Last Sigh
Salman Rushdie

I was a big Salman Rusdie junkie when I was younger, and avidly ready all his books. On a number of occasions, I even sought out reader guides to better appreciate and understand the intricacies of his stories and their settings.

For reasons unknown however I never got around to reading his more recent books when they were published. I've had his 2001 book Fury sitting on my bookshelf unread for years. Perhaps with some twinge of a guilty concious, I dusted one of my favourites off the bookshelf a while ago and revisited this family saga that stretches down from the spice-traders of yore through India's independence and to the modern day.

As is often the case in Rushdie's books,the story and the characters act as a parable for India and her history. In this case, following the narrator, Moraes Zogoiby, aka "Moor", as he moves from his families spice warehouses in Cochin to the heights of Bombay's glitterati and the depths of a life on the lamb in sun-scorched Andalusia. It's a grand struggle between good and evil, with the Moor as allegory for India itself.

A friend recently posted this very interesting article about the state of Indian literature in India. It pointed out that the most celebrated Indian authors, Salman Rushdie included, come to India by way of the West. These authors were published and became popular in the West first before being imported back to India. Homegrown Indian authors are actually few and far between.

Afghanistan

The Kite Runner
Khaled Hosseini

I just watched the film for the book a few days ago and I was reminded of how dreadfully disheartened I was reading this book. While there is redemption and hope, mostly there is a full-plate serving of sadness reading The Kite Runner. – Not that that should put any off reading it; life is sometimes sad and this story beautifully told.

As I had read this quite a number of years ago now, when it first came out on the bestseller list, I was intrigued to see what Ann Morgan had come up with for her Afghan entry. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she had a hard time escaping the ubiquitousness of Hosseini in Afghani writing. Despite a native narrative tradition stretching back a thousand years, and a daily presence in news stories for more than a decade, Afghanistan has always been something of literary hermit kingdom. With the success of Hosseini's writing, hopefully more avenues will open for new Afghan writers to emerge in the future.