I did end up writing something about the books, although it started with a lot of vitriol toward the Rochester Police Department, and included some things about myself that I don’t necessarily feel comfortable sharing in this space. I’m thinking that I’ll fix all the typos and post it on , which I rarely, ever use (but probably should?).

Anyway, if you’re a fan of these two books糖心传媒攐r of Jordan Stump’s work as a whole糖心传媒擨 think you’ll like this interview. And hopefully this week things will settle down enough to get back to posting more regularly again.

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How did you come to Igifu听and/or听That Time of Year?

I糖心传媒檝e been delightedly reading and teaching NDiaye糖心传媒檚 books since the early nineties; it took me a while to begin translating her (in part because my early attempts were so unworthy of her beautiful writing that I simply gave up). I ended up translating several of her later books, but my mind kept going back to her earlier work, which is undertranslated and vastly underrated in this country; I thought particularly of That Time of Year, which I read when it first came out, way back in 1994 or thereabouts. I was utterly thrilled when Two Lines agreed to let me bring it, at last, to the American reader.

Why should people read these books?

Because they糖心传媒檙e beautiful, in two very different ways (糖心传媒渂eauty糖心传媒� being defined rather broadly here). There are of course many other reasons, but for me that糖心传媒檚 always the only one that really matters.

What did you learn in the process of translating these books? (Or, how did you grow as a translator by working on them?)

Not so much a matter of learning as of confirmation, I guess: the glorious power of endless revision. Both Igifu and That Time of Year eluded me a bit in my first drafts; in both cases, once again, I saw that the way through obstacles in translation is long, drawn-out, constant rethinking and reconsideration. The more I translate, the more I糖心传媒檓 amazed at what a translation can do as long as it糖心传媒檚 given enough time and enough thought to develop.

What specific elements of style/structure/voice were the most challenging/rewarding about these projects?

In both cases, I think the challenge is not running roughshod over the delicate balance of the text. Both NDiaye and Mukasonga have understated voices, though they糖心传媒檙e not understated in the same way糖心传媒攖he kind of voices that can be disfigured by an overly 糖心传媒減oetic糖心传媒� translation, but that can easily turn flat if they糖心传媒檙e rendered too plainly. Letting the voice come through as itself, not as something I can turn it into: that糖心传媒檚 always the challenge of translation, and with writers whose voices I particularly love it糖心传媒檚 particularly urgent to get it right.

If someone loved Igifu/That Time of Year, what would you听recommend they read next?

I don糖心传媒檛 mean this to be a facile answer: these are both writers whose work grows richer the more you read of it糖心传媒攕o read more NDiaye and more Mukasonga!

Marcel Inhoff is completing a doctoral dissertation at the University of Bonn. He is the author of the collection Prosopopeia (Editions Mantel, 2015), and Our Church Is Here (Pen and Anvil, 2018) as well as numerous poems and essays in German and English. He is currently working on his first novel.

by Marie NDiaye, translated from the French by Jordan Stump (Knopf)听

Marie NDiaye糖心传媒檚 gifts as a psychologically acute observer, a novelist with exceptional skill in depicting characters at an extraordinary depth and vividness have been well observed and described. The Cheffe: A Cook糖心传媒檚 Novel is one more in a row of widely acclaimed novels about all kinds of characters. This one is about a cook who rose from rags to riches, not without being profoundly uncomfortable about the whole affair. The descriptions of her tumult, her growth, of the way she came to become a cook, through an accident, the sumptuous descriptions of her delight in the art of cooking, of her shame of her upbringing, all of this is masterfully evoked. Except糖心传媒攚e see it all indirectly. The Cheffe does not speak with us糖心传媒攚e hear the voice of a seemingly devoted narrator who works with and admires her, a factotum, almost.

It is tempting to read this novel entirely as a biography of the titular cook. After all, NDiaye fills her novel with extraordinary elements. There is the sense of class糖心传媒攖he shame of one糖心传媒檚 roots, and the quiet, but conflicting pride in having elevated one糖心传媒檚 craftsmanship to such a prominent level as the Cheffe has. Cooking is, like writing, a craft that best works with an audience: readers, eaters. And the moment of reading, eating, is central to the book糖心传媒檚 most pivotal moments. She finds herself a cook because she works in the kitchen of a rich, strange family, and is suddenly afforded the opportunity to take over duties as head chef. So she, already dissatisfied with the previous cook糖心传媒檚 work, works out her own dishes and impresses her employers, the strange Clapeau family. Another such moment presents itself when she cooks refined dishes for her parents, who do not like their daughter糖心传媒檚 vaunted cooking skills. At this point, we know that 糖心传媒渞efined糖心传媒� doesn糖心传媒檛 mean 糖心传媒減retentious糖心传媒� in the dismissive sense of the word. The Cheffe has genuinely elevated her craft糖心传媒攁nd her palette in a way that shifts her sense of place and class so much it creates a rupture with her origins. As Pierre Bourdieu noted about himself: a second habitus has developed, and a shift has taken place, which the Cheffe finds disturbing.

Without unnecessarily going into details, this is the rift that motivated the self-examination at the heart of some of Didier Eribon糖心传媒檚 recent work, most famously the Return to Reims, and it is not overall uncommon in literature. What is different here is the way NDiaye presents her female protagonist at the levels of the process糖心传媒攕he is the head chef, a position unusual enough and important enough for the book that Jordan Stump糖心传媒檚 translation has preserved it as the book糖心传媒檚 title. It is an unusual choice糖心传媒攖he Grand Robert, the Merriam-Webster of the French language, recommends turning the customary 糖心传媒渓e chef糖心传媒� into 糖心传媒渓a chef糖心传媒澨切拇綌but that is not an option here. What糖心传媒檚 more, the mastery of cooking糖心传媒攁nd the concept of mastery per se糖心传媒攊s still understood as inherently male. 77% of professional chefs in the US are male, while home cooks are majority female. The difference here is written into the title of the book and its protagonist. She is one of modern cooking糖心传媒檚 auteur chefs糖心传媒攚ith specific, painstakingly created, unique signature dishes, and the kitchen doubling as a 糖心传媒渞oom of her own.糖心传媒�

One has to admire the book糖心传媒檚 style, well translated by Jordan Stump, of what could maybe be called exact sumptuousness糖心传媒攁 style that perfectly conveys the seductiveness of cooking, the richness of flavors and scents, the attraction of each individual element that composes a great dish, without decomposing into faux-baroque mush, a danger in books about the senses. This skill is heightened by the fact that all this description is wrapped around the simpler, sometimes strangely whiny discursive language of the narrator, a former cook in the Cheffe糖心传媒檚 restaurant, hopelessly infatuated with his boss, and still writing, from his elegant retirement home, with a gesture of longing and admiration. His language is halting, self-correcting, searching, and contra many reviews of the novel, it is this narrator that elevates NDiaye糖心传媒檚 novel above many of its contemporaries.

NDiaye has long been suspicious of autofiction and autobiography. Not belonging to the community L茅onora Miano糖心传媒檚 Afropeans, or at least not overtly identifying with them, she has often described herself as French, her Senegalese roots not as central to her identity as her interlocutors and reviewers like to make them, at least, not explicitly. In her work, her heritage and background shines through in much of her best work糖心传媒攂ut how does it relate to the 糖心传媒淐heffe糖心传媒� at the center of the work? In what I think is her most underappreciated work, the Autoportrait en Vert, NDiaye offers a strange hallucinatory search for a self, an apparition. The book is a challenge to readers, a book at odds with some fashionable assessments of what autofictional literature can, and maybe should, do. It is literally an evasive book糖心传媒攁 chase for a phantom.

In The Cheffe, Marie NDiaye writes about a woman who does not want to be defined by her biography, who does not want pictures taken of her face to overshadow the work she produces. The Cheffe wants her work to speak for itself, her dishes to be tasted without being seen as reflections of any specific person. This fact is so central to the book that the narrator begins by explaining it to us before pushing aside any such concerns, before digging up and uncovering the biography of someone who hated being so uncovered. His doubts and thoughts are constantly with us. It is a mistake to read Marie NDiaye糖心传媒檚 novel as a psychological portrait of the cook alone or even primarily. It is a portrait of the act of biography, the epistemological violence of dragging an author into a spotlight not sought by them. It is by no means an accident that this factotum, this insistent biographer is male糖心传媒攁nd that he pushes himself to the front of the picture, so that we never see the Cheffe without also seeing him, and his woeful inner torment. In French literature, this ponderous male voice is common糖心传媒攆or example, it is all over Laurent Binet糖心传媒檚 HHhH, a biography of Reinhard Heydrich and his two assassins. Not content to write the story of the assassination, Binet also writes the story of writing the story糖心传媒攊ncluding a discussion of other books being written about the topic and why his project is superior, more truthful, better.

It is difficult not to read The Cheffe as a novel not just about female ambition and success, not just about class and power, but a book about how interwoven our knowledge of the world is with the masculine push to dominate narrative. As in Autoportrait en Vert, here, too, Marie NDiaye offers us a chase糖心传媒攁nd a trap. The Cheffe糖心传媒檚 psychology is given to us by the narrator, and the narrator alone. This is not about him being reliable or unreliable糖心传媒攊t is about him being a central character of the story. Patriarchal constructions of narrative history as well as masculine dominance of literature mean that we must always be careful around these tales of female lives told to us by men. And where we must be most on our toes is about stories about female relationships with other women, in stories written by men. And so NDiaye includes a difficult relationship, between the Cheffe and her daughter, but makes sure we understand the extent to which this relationship is refracted through the eyes of the narrator.

And yet, despite all this metafictional finesse, this cleverness, this, even, bitterness of Marie NDiaye, a cheffe herself struggling with the narratives draped upon her shoulders, the book is never bogged down. Often, you have to choose糖心传媒攕ome of the clever books praised by reviewers and readers for their intelligence offer little in the way of story and characters, falling back on the bare bones of cleverness and conceit. This is not the case here. The book is never less than richly readable, engaging, a brilliant book by a great storyteller and a sharp thinker.

The entry below is by Trevor Berrett of He also moderates a dedicated to the BTBA. Feel free to join and post your opinions and rants and raves.

Ladivine糖心传媒�:http://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/234541/ladivine-by-marie-ndiaye/ by Marie NDiaye, translated from the French by Jordan Stump (France, Knopf)

Chad糖心传媒檚 Uneducated and Unscientific Percentage Chance of Making the Shortlist: 85%

Chad糖心传媒檚 Uneducated and Unscientific Percentage Chance of Winning the BTBA: 17%

NDiaye糖心传媒檚 books are illuminating while retaining so much mystery, or, rather, they are illuminating because they retain so much mystery. For example, the lines between characters often feel blurry to the point I sometimes don糖心传媒檛 quite know who糖心传媒檚 on the page anymore, and yet this confusion is the very moment I see light. NDiaye plays with this mixture of illumination and mystery particularly well in the seemingly straight-forward Ladivine, a worthy inclusion to this years Best Translated Book Award longlist, and, for my money, a worthy winner.

As the book begins, we meet a woman named Clarisse Rivi猫re, but from the first sentence her identity is in flux:

She was Malinka again the moment she got on the train, and she found it neither a pleasure nor a burden, having long since stopped noticing.

When I first read this, I smiled and settled back in my chair, excited to again be in such capable hands. The next paragraph keeps the mystery alive, as we learn this is a woman who has somehow split her identity:

But it happened, she could tell, for no more could she answer without a second thought to 糖心传媒淐larisse糖心传媒� when, rarely, someone she knew took that same train and called to or greeted her as 糖心传媒淐larisse,糖心传媒� only to see her stare back in puzzled surprise, a hesitant smile on her lips, creating a mutual discomfort that the slightly flustered Clarisse never thought to dispel by simply echoing that 糖心传媒淗ello,糖心传媒� that 糖心传媒淗ow are you,糖心传媒� as offhandedly as she could.

Clarisse is on the train to Bordeaux, to visit her mother, as she does once every month, and we soon find out that her mother knows her as Malinka. Naturally; it was her mother who named her Malinka, and her mother has no idea of any other name. Clarisse has, but for these monthly ventures to a forsaken existence, completely repudiated her past and, with it, her mother. When she leaves Bordeaux, she sheds the skin of Malinka and finds no difficulty answering to Clarisse.

The book continues for some time to tell us about Clarisse by telling us about the people in her life: her mother, a black seamstress with no money, whom Clarisse refers to (and, thus, keeps distant) as 糖心传媒渢he servant糖心传媒�; her husband, who eventually leaves her, in part because Clarisse 糖心传媒渃ouldn糖心传媒檛 hold back the numbness gradually overtaking her household, the cold torpor exuded in spite of her by her artificial, oblique self糖心传媒�; and her daughter, whom she has named Ladivine, Ladivine being the name of her repudiated mother in Bordeaux and therefore a conscious tie to that past. Clarisse糖心传媒檚 mother Ladivine knows nothing about her granddaughter Ladivine, though she suspects. After all, because visits from her daughter are so scarce she has watched her daughter with that much more attention. And she can fill in the blanks: those months when Malinka did not visit were because she was pregnant. Her mother loves her enough, perhaps even sympathizes with her motives to shun her, that she doesn糖心传媒檛 rock the boat by asking questions. Which is not to suggest that NDiaye wants us to feel any of the same sympathy.

Throughout this section糖心传媒攊t糖心传媒檚 just the first糖心传媒擭Diaye manages a beautiful ambivalence, just as Clarisse manages her tragic ambivalence. Clarisse repudiates her past but she visits her mother every month, thereby retaining this past. We come to understand that she loves her mother; she糖心传媒檚 just ashamed of 糖心传媒渢he servant.糖心传媒� Clarisse糖心传媒檚 hope to become the person she envisions in her mind is felt on each page, though we also feel the melancholy of a half soul. Such nuance imbues the books with its mysterious power, though the story, as it explores the gulfs between people, gulfs they create while apparently seeking something, is fascinating as well.

This first section comes to a conclusion with surprising violence, and NDiaye destabilizes the entire narrative as our attention is directed primarily at Clarisse糖心传媒檚 daughter Ladivine who begins to sense, without fully understanding, her mother糖心传媒檚 hidden half. With Ladivine, we descend into a horrific labyrinth.

Making the labyrinth a psychological nightmare are all of the doubling and transformations throughout: obviously we have the two women named Ladivine, their disconnection/connection, and what all of that says about Clarisse, but we also have Clarisse糖心传媒檚 husband Richard who, after he has abandoned her, marries another woman named Clarisse. The novel糖心传媒檚 strangest bits suggest a transformation in to a protective dog. The transgression of these boundaries, though, are based in psychological realism, leading to the novel糖心传媒檚 fascinating conclusion.

The story糖心传媒檚 unnamed narrator, a female French novelist of West African heritage, is based on Marie NDiaye. 糖心传媒淢arie糖心传媒� perceives that certain females in her life are 糖心传媒渨omen in green糖心传媒澨切拇綌disorienting, elusive, unpredictable, and destructive. Among these are her mother, her former schoolteacher, and certain friends and acquaintances. Sometimes the women are, literally, green糖心传媒攖hey wear green clothes, hide behind trees or have green eyes. With others, the visual association is unnecessary糖心传媒攖hey are 糖心传媒済reen糖心传媒� simply because of the negative feelings that they evoke in Marie.

Marie糖心传媒檚 voice is wonderfully unsettling and original. Her disturbed state of mind is apparent from the very first pages. Her anxieties override rational thought and, in this confused state of mind, the women in her life bear the brunt of her insecurities. NDiaye糖心传媒檚 use of the color green as an instrument to visualize Marie糖心传媒檚 vilification of women is smart and effective. She relates how the tendency to demonize other women erodes Marie糖心传媒檚 own self-worth and cripples her other relationships, namely with her father and siblings.

Marie is the most unreliable of narrators, and NDiaye employs her own brand of magic realism to describe Marie糖心传媒檚 reality, a style that she also uses in the first novella of her later book, Three Strong Women. In both works the female protagonists exist in hyper-sensory states, and their heightened senses create emotional reflexes that, without exception, are negative and cause harm. Both novellas also demonstrate NDiaye糖心传媒檚 clever use of symbolism, which provides additional dimension and depth to her prose.

In the final pages of the book Marie becomes convinced that it is her destiny to become a woman in green糖心传媒攖he personification of her fears and insecurities. She succumbs to the inertia of remaining in the destructive cycle that her mind has created, incapable of the necessary self-reflection to acknowledge that the evil that she sees in others is merely a misapplication of her own weaknesses.

Lori is an attorney who lives in Dallas, Texas, and is a member of the Board of Deep Vellum Publishing in Dallas.

Hope everyone is having a great start to 2015. We sure are! Here’s the beginning of Lori’s review:

Marie NDiaye has created a tiny, psychological masterpiece with her Self-Portrait in Green. In it she explores how our private fears and insecurities can distort what we believe to be real and can cause us to sabotage our intimate relationships. In particular, NDiaye conveys a powerful message about the unconscious vulnerabilities that cause women to undermine healthy relationships with each other, and in doing so she solidifies her place as a unique voice in feminist literature.

For the rest of the review, go here.

I delighted in rolling the sound of the author糖心传媒檚 surname on my tongue糖心传媒攖wo syllables or perhaps three, a name as exotic sounding as the translator糖心传媒檚 definitive single syllable is business-like. His name on the cover already a pleasant surprise for a British reader accustomed to the translator糖心传媒檚 invisibility, hidden away as he or she normally is in small font on an inside page.

And then there was the suitcase on the front cover糖心传媒攂rown leather, battered and worn, disappearing into the black inkiness to who knows where. The back cover, a close-up of the tacks holding it together. Memories of a half a dozen or so such cases in my grandparents糖心传媒� loft touched a profound emotional chord. I liked the book already, there are friends in the title and we are going on a journey or journeys with a suitcase糖心传媒攊f there were but that in life, it would be plenty.

A final exterior tour before settling into the first story. The back cover blurb leaps out at me with the assertion that this is 糖心传媒淣Diaye糖心传媒檚 lacerating look at the personal trials we fight every day to suppress糖心传媒� and the New York Times Book Review on the inside cover flap boldly claims that NDiaye is a storyteller 糖心传媒渨ith an unflinching understanding of the rock-bottom reality of most people糖心传媒檚 lives.糖心传媒� Intriguing . . . will I, inside these pages, find my personal trials or rock-bottom realities mirrored? Let糖心传媒檚 see . . .

All My Friends consists of five stories in a slim, 140-page volume whose length belies its complexity. Of course, short stories cannot be summed up in a single sentence, but just to give an idea of what they contain, whilst leaving them to reveal their own surprises to future readers, here are five one-line summaries:

The title story 糖心传媒淎ll My Friends糖心传媒� is about a separated former school teacher who amorously pursues an ex-pupil; 糖心传媒淭he Death of Claude Fran莽ois糖心传媒� charts an encounter between two childhood friends that reveals very contrasting lives thirty years later; 糖心传媒淭he Boys糖心传媒� portrays two youngsters whose sacrifice rescues their families from hunger and hardship; 糖心传媒淏rulard糖心传媒檚 Day,糖心传媒� the longest story, follows a fading, second-rate actress as she loses her self-esteem. In the final story, 糖心传媒淩evelation,糖心传媒� just six pages long, a mother and son go on a bus journey from which only the mother will return.

The deliciously mouth-watering opening sentence immediately gets to work: 糖心传媒淭he next time I see Werner, once this is all over, a nervous snicker will be his only greeting. He糖心传媒檒l back a few steps away, cautious and for once, unsure of himself.糖心传媒�

NDiaye opens the suitcase and displays her consummate short-storytelling skills: a flash forward, the mysterious Werner who doesn糖心传媒檛 appear again until eight pages later and whose identity is not revealed for another fifteen, a first-person narrator whose gender remains murky for seven long pages, and plenty more questions besides. NDiaye skillfully and elliptically draws us in. As a British reader, I linger on the unfamiliar American 糖心传媒渟nicker,糖心传媒� not sure of its exact intent (mocking, ironic, dry, embarrassed . . . ?) and also because it seems to tilt me into an American context rather than the expected French one.

Yet the snicker jogs me into wondering糖心传媒攊s place important in NDiaye糖心传媒檚 stories? Some characters糖心传媒� names are French, others could cross borders unnoticed. Settings are generally in France or the Francosphere, but the further the reader penetrates the stories, the more the themes and motifs become insistently human rather than culture-specific.

The thread running through the work is the broken, defective connections between people themselves and between individuals糖心传媒� inner desires and outer reality. These connections are like dots that, no matter how hard you try, are impossible to join up to make a coherent picture.

The protagonist in All My Friends, abandoned by his spouse and the victim of unrequited love, slides into an insanity that feeds his belief that even his house opposes him, as he speaks of 糖心传媒渢he disquiet that my house糖心传媒檚 whispering depths inspire in me every night (for my house doesn糖心传媒檛 like me).糖心传媒� His house machinates against him while Werner, more in control of his life, has 糖心传媒渢he house of a flourishing adult.糖心传媒� In 糖心传媒淏rulard糖心传媒檚 Day,糖心传媒� ageing actress Eve is tormented by the invisible presence of her youthful self and is caught in an unstoppable decline embodied by her 糖心传媒渂rown tasseled loafers. That she糖心传媒檇 been reduced to wearing such shoes tormented and astonished her at the same time.糖心传媒�

Other stories juxtapose wealth with poverty, choice with lack of choice and are peopled with characters who orbit one another in utterly different realities. In 糖心传媒淭he Boys,糖心传媒� 糖心传媒渇eeble, scrawny and misshapen糖心传媒� Ren茅, who blends in with the 糖心传媒渟habby chiaroscuro of the far end of the room,糖心传媒� looks on enviously as his handsome young neighbor Anthony is sold to a rich city woman to rescue Anthony糖心传媒檚 mother from hardship. Yet Ren茅糖心传媒檚 fervent wish 糖心传媒淟et me be bought, bought, bought糖心传媒� gets him something very different from what he anticipated.

Similarly, the characters in 糖心传媒淭he Death of Claude Fran莽ois糖心传媒� pay high prices to achieve their desires: to engender her ideal child, Zaka had 糖心传媒渃oupled with a white elephant, and that generous but slow-witted animal wouldn糖心传媒檛 give up on the idea that it was her equal.糖心传媒� Desire and reality糖心传媒攍ike the stories themselves糖心传媒攕lip in and out of reach.
糖心传媒淩evelation,糖心传媒� the final story, is a perfect distillation of all NDiaye糖心传媒檚 themes糖心传媒攖he opposition between inner and outer worlds, between self and the other, and the missed connections that do indeed mirror our personal trials, as the blurb suggested. Struggles that are never more clearly explored than in the mind of the mother willfully abandoning her damaged child: 糖心传媒淪he糖心传媒檇 be coming home alone, thank God: how she would miss him!糖心传媒�

All My Friends is not an easy read; short stories by their nature are laconic and elliptical, and NDiaye courageously constructs plots and writes of issues that are inherently, almost overly, complex. The reader is required to engage his or her own imagination and interpretation糖心传媒攂ut is richly rewarded for the effort.

Andrea has worked as a professional translator for many years and recently completed an MA in literary translation at the University of Exeter. Here’s a part of her review:

All My Friends consists of five stories in a slim, 140-page volume whose length belies its complexity. Of course, short stories cannot be summed up in a single sentence, but just to give an idea of what they contain, whilst leaving them to reveal their own surprises to future readers, here are five one-line summaries:

The title story 糖心传媒淎ll My Friends糖心传媒� is about a separated former school teacher who amorously pursues an ex-pupil; 糖心传媒淭he Death of Claude Fran莽ois糖心传媒� charts an encounter between two childhood friends that reveals very contrasting lives thirty years later; 糖心传媒淭he Boys糖心传媒� portrays two youngsters whose sacrifice rescues their families from hunger and hardship; 糖心传媒淏rulard糖心传媒檚 Day,糖心传媒� the longest story, follows a fading, second-rate actress as she loses her self-esteem. In the final story, 糖心传媒淩evelation,糖心传媒� just six pages long, a mother and son go on a bus journey from which only the mother will return.

The deliciously mouth-watering opening sentence immediately gets to work: 糖心传媒淭he next time I see Werner, once this is all over, a nervous snicker will be his only greeting. He糖心传媒檒l back a few steps away, cautious and for once, unsure of himself.糖心传媒�

For the rest of the review, go here.

The novel Drie sterke vrouwen by Marie NDiaye, translated from the French by Jeanne Holierhoek, has been selected as the winner of the European Literature Prize. The prize goes to both the author and the translator of the best European novel to appear in Dutch translation in 2010. The author will receive the sum of 鈧�10,000, the translator 鈧� 2,500. This a new prize, awarded this year for the first time.

The aim of the initiators of the award is to draw attention to the rich variety of literary translations of contemporary European novels. The prize will be presented on Saturday 3 September during Manuscripta in Amsterdam.

The jury on Drie sterke vrouwen by Marie NDiaye, and on Jeanne Holierhoek糖心传媒檚 translation:

糖心传媒淚n this penetrating triptych, set in both France and Senegal, NDiaye succeeds in blending stylistic complexity with succinctness and simplicity. She gives the ancient themes of repression and exploitation a human face, an intense profundity and a caustic beauty. In recreating her style, translator Jeanne Holierhoek displays great freedom, syntactical flexibility, a rich vocabulary and unobtrusive virtuosity. The result is a translation no less melodious than the original.糖心传媒�

The only book of NDiaye’s currently available in English translation is which was translated from the French by Tasmin Black, and published by the University of Nebraska.

Trois Femmes Puissantes / Drie sterke vrouwen won the Goncourt in 2009, so hopefully someone is working on it . . . Here’s the (somewhat muddled) description from the site:

Trois femmes puissantes [Three Strong Women] is the book beneath the French media糖心传媒檚 spotlight this rentr茅e. Three, tenuously linked narratives. At their heart, three women who say no. Forty year-old Norah arrives at the home of her father in Africa. An egocentric tyrant, he has now become silent and bulimic, and spends his nights perched in a tree in the courtyard. Why did he ask her to come? The answer, Norah discovers, is worse than she could have ever imagined. Fanta, who used to teach French in Dakar, had to follow her partner, Rudy, to France. Here, Rudy proves incapable of providing her with the rich and joyful life she deserves. He remains under the morbid influence of his mother, who dedicates her life to convincing her entourage of the existence of angels. Destabilised, Rudy wanders through an angry reality, while Fanta, by his side, is a rock. Khady Demba is a young African widow. Penniless, she tries to find her distant cousin, Fanta, in France. The long journey of emigration she pursues will be punctuated with unspeakable suffering.

And here’s an article in English about NDiaye