“…I still remember the warm, cozy feeling I had when reading The Chosen, like slurping down Bubby’s chicken soup on a cold winter day. After all, am I not a girl growing up in Brooklyn, just like the heroine of this book…?”
Deborah Feldman
My grandparents used to own a sturdy boat, tethered to a familiar New York dock that I visited several times growing up. I'd heard stories of it being out on the water, but not once when I came to visit was the boat untethered from its place at the very end of the row. The memories I have of those visits are resoundingly happy: I loved the tiny kitchen and sleeping in the u-shaped cabin in the back on long blue cushions and being rocked tenderly all through the night—but a part of me always wondered why we never ventured out into the vast and unexplored waters beyond.
It occurred to me recently (though probably a stretch) that there is a correlation between this sort of experience and the many reading experiences that are out there. You can read local authors (canoe on a local river), flip through a comforting magazine like one adrift on a still lake, or even just splash in puddles (children's books are some of the very best reads I have known). Being in a motorized boat, I think, is a lot like listening to an audiobook, whereas if you're paddling yourself, it's like reading in print: either way, you'll get to the other side of the pond. Sometimes a book comes to you, as with a flash of rain that catches you out on a stroll and has you bursting in through the door, exhilarated and dripping wet. And very often, it is a comfort just to sink into a hot bath right in your own home. Reading a book set in Canada, for me, carries a kind of thrilling hominess. As superficial as it may seem, there is a cozy intrigue associated with recognizing street names and buildings, bird varieties and plants that I know from my own backyard.
“You know, I think there’s a tendency that we all have to be a little parochial in our reading, to want to read books about people like us living in a place like the place where we live. We can recognize in the book versions that we recognize as variations in our own lives, and that’s natural that we want to read those kinds of books. But I think if we only do that, then we deprive ourselves of enormous riches and certainly I would say that books not written originally in English have been at least as important to me as books that were written in English.”
Salman Rushdie
Salman Rushdie's suggestion to read books from a global canon is a wonderfully wise one. It is in a reader’s best interest, after all, to read the best of the best from all over the world: the most excellent writing that humankind has to offer. How could it not be? There are whole oceans of reading experiences out there and I find that I want to be carried out into them; I want to be moved by what I read—honestly and categorically moved—and sometimes that means untethering from the dock.
Where to begin? As Neil Gaiman points out (and I will reiterate yet again), "The challenge becomes, not finding that scarce plant growing in the desert, but finding a specific plant growing in a jungle."
Here are a few reads that I can suggest from the jungle of world literature, most of which are available at the Essa Public Library (I have noted when otherwise):
Steig Larson
Original Language: Swedish
I read the first three books in this series years ago, around the time the movie with Rooney Mara came out. "Mikael Blomkvist, a journalist, hires Lisbeth Salander, a computer hacker, to solve the mystery of a woman who has been missing for forty years. The two discover more than they bargained for." To this day, I really like the character of Lisbeth Salander. It was she who carried the books for me, even though I don't typically like a lot of violence or 'murder mystery' in my reading. I liked her cleverness and grit, her wild spirit, her introversion, and her self-reliance. A compelling, and multi-layered read.
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo is part of the Essa Public Library collection.
Kahlil Gibrán
Original Language: Arabic
I splurged on the e-audiobook of The Broken Wings, thinking I could bang out the read in a couple of hours while doing other things, like putting away the dishes or folding the laundry. Rarely have I been more extravagantly wrong. The writing was so lyrical, so compelling, so lovely, and so insightful, that I constantly had to stop, replay what was last said, and write something down in my notes. In The Broken Wings, Gibrán recounts a coming-of-age love story like none I have ever read and (after setting aside some time devoted solely to this book—no tidying involved) I simply cannot recommend it highly enough. And SUPER fun fact: this was the book that inspired Paul McCartney and John Lennon to write the poetically beautiful Blackbird, which is one of my favourite songs (I did not find this out until later, but boy, was I thrilled with the discovery!).
The Broken Wings, originally published in 1912, is available in full as an e-book to borrow from The Internet Archive with a free account (it takes only a few minutes to sign up). Conversely, if you like a paper copy, ask your local librarian how you can get this (or any) book via an interlibrary loan.
Haruki Murakami
Original Language: Japanese
This is one of the most masterfully written contemporary books that I have read in such a long time. Norwegian Wood (so named because of the Beatles' song from their Rubber Soul album) tells the story of Toru Watanabe, "a quiet and preternaturally serious young college student in Tokyo." My personal experience was that the less I knew about this book going in, the more I enjoyed the way things unfolded: just beautifully written and reverently woven with a kind of prophetic brilliance I have rarely had the pleasure of reading. I give this book all the stars I am allowed to grant, as a humble reader and librarian. A well-crafted book that is worth every minute.
Norwegian Wood is part of the Essa Public Library collection.
Paulo Coelho
Original Language: Portuguese
I have to admit, I am ambivalent about The Archer. On the one hand, I did find that it clarified some aspects of the artistic process that had been somewhat vague within me before—it was encouraging and liberating and I like the way it was all framed into a story. But at the same time, I felt the whole while a pervading intention to be inspirational that seemed, for lack of a better description, somewhat forced. Somehow, this taste of intentionality was less affecting for me than when a story has metamorphosed unpresumptuously into something transcendent: something the author herself could never have predicted and which, except by some untamed inspiration, could never have come to be. I perceived, with The Archer, an almost calculated desire to make a lofty impression. The book was valuable to me in many ways and perhaps my own perception is simply that, but in any case, it is always good to read a book for yourself and see what you think. I like to never let somebody else's opinion of a book inform mine for me, and there was a lot of good that came out of this one: some hearty wisdoms that were certainly worth mulling over.
The Archer is part of the Essa Public Library collection.
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Original Language: Russian
While I haven't read Crime and Punishment, it's one of those books you don't often go through life without hearing about. It follows the story of Rodion Raskolnikov, "an impoverished ex-student in Saint Petersburg who formulates a plan to kill an unscrupulous pawnbroker for her money. Before the killing, Raskolnikov believes that with the money he could liberate himself from poverty and go on to perform great deeds. However, once it is done he finds himself racked with confusion, paranoia, and disgust for his actions. His justifications disintegrate completely as he struggles with guilt and horror and confronts the real-world consequences of his deed."
Sounds intense!
Crime and Punishment is part of the Essa Public Library collection.
As Salman Rushdie goes on to say:
“You may well find that the book that unlocks something in your head, the book that shows you the way, is something that was originally in Russian, or Japanese, or Hungarian—you never know—and it’s worth just going on these voyages of discovery…”
In my experience, and especially with books like The Broken Wings and Norwegian Wood, I've found this to be emphatically true.
Do you have a memorable or favourite translated read? Write to me at vmurgante@essa.library.on.ca—I'd love to hear about it!
What was it about? What brought you to it? What did you like (or dislike) about it? I'll be continuing this series, and would love to include some of your personal finds and favourites.
Onward!
Victoria Murgante
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