Palabras Errantes Latin American Literature in Translation
Latin American Narratives
II. downcast eyes and a crooked glance
Extract from Inflamadas de retórica: escrituras promiscuas para una tecnodecolonialidad (Editorial Desbordes, 2016) By Jorge Díaz and Johan Mijail. Translated by Shahid Wahab. español Les yeux sont encore capables de pousser un cri René Cher A CROOKED EYE We grow up cross-eyed, with a crooked, squinty, queer eye that finds it hard to focus and […]
Magritte and Rage
By Cristina Zabalaga. Translated by Lois Baer Barr. español I am incapable of sleeping during the flight. I am furious. Just furious. So mad that nothing can distract me. Not the tight ass on the flight attendant who manages to graze against my hand every time she passes, not the stupid movies that have me […]
A House with Ten Pines
By Fabián Casas. Translated by Alan Williams. For Quique Fogwill Ever since I started to be published, people ask me: ‘Is this autobiographical?’ Or: ‘The main character, that’s you, right?’ So I’m going to start off by saying that everything that follows is absolutely true. It happened exactly as I’m going to tell it. That […]
Love
By Mariana Docampo. Translated by Carolina Orloff. Love She loves the contour. But only at the precise moment. The three days before and the three days following the initiation. She loves the fingers raised. The toenails slightly uneven, the varnish messed up. The hairs on the legs. It lasts only three days. Like an […]
Nicolás Di Candia, ‘A step forward’
A step forward Written by Nicolás Di Candia. Translated by Sam Gordon. Escalator. On the left hand side a line of people take the initiative and rise to the challenge. They don’t want to wait around and let things happen in their own time. They would rather ascend towards the future than let themselves be […]
Nicolás Di Candia, ‘My cloud’
My cloud Written by Nicolás Di Candia. Translated by Sam Gordon. I live in a high-rise flat. As well as having a magnificent view over the whole city, I can also see approaching storms. One was nearing the other day. The clouds were very low. Some of them were so close to the building that […]
Nicolás Di Candia, ‘Coca-Cola Tours’
Coca-Cola Tours Written by Nicolás Di Candia. Translated by Sam Gordon. A thunderous noise was heard throughout the city of Atlanta. As per usual, the citizens tuned in to CNN to find out what was going on. They were met with live pictures following an explosion at Coca-Cola’s main bottling plant. The gravity of the […]
Juan Diego Incardona, ‘Victor Saint Death’
Victor Saint Death Written by Juan Diego Incardona. Translated by Elsa Treviño. I walked around the neighbourhood in no particular direction. It was the spring of 1993. At the entrance of bridge number 7, I encountered Pocho, a Council employee who I had met years before in San Justo. He told me that he now […]
Diario de un antropólogo
Diario de un antropólogo. Escrito por Carolina Massola. Dr. Joaquín Fernández de la Rivera Madrid, 21 de abril de 1998 Como camaradas del profesor Alfonso Cibert y activos miembros de la comunidad antropológica creemos de alto valor científico la publicación de este material. Sabemos de su inextinguible labor, a la que […]
Diary of an anthropologist
Diary of an anthropologist Written by Carolina Massola. Translated by Lucy Greaves. Dr. Joaquín Fernández de la Rivera Madrid, 21st April 1998 As colleagues of Professor Alfonso Cibert and active members of the anthropological community, we believe the publication of this material to be of great scientific value. We recognise his inexhaustible work, […]
Nicolás Di Candia, ‘Truths about you’
Truths about you Written by Nicolás Di Candia. Translated by Sam Gordon. You know how to read. Right now you’re reading, and what you’re reading is the word this. Now you’re not reading that word, but others instead. But that one is still resounding in you. You know that it won’t be for […]
Mariana Docampo, ‘The root’
The root Written by Mariana Docampo. Translated by Carolina Orloff. The middle sister was crazy. Every night, she put her children to bed singing them a lullaby from her childhood. Her husband had gone on a trip to Washington, and her youngest daughter held her close as if to absorb her anguish. But this was […]