Archive

The Băiuţ Alley Lads

May 01, 2009

In a feat of technical originality, brothers Filip and Matei Florian create a joint portrait of their shared childhood. Each brother tells the story of an event from his childhood while the other fills in details, offers revelations, and imbues the story with new meanings. This method clarifies ...

Synopsis | Filip Florian

Little Fingers

May 01, 2009

A mass grave is discovered in a small mountain resort. Public prosecutors, journalists and former political prisoners show up in droves. The press has a field day. The issue becomes a source of daily political wrangling. Did the communists commit the crime in the 1950s? Searching for a lead, ...

Fiction | Filip Florian

The Shadows of the Captain of Dragoons

May 01, 2009

Translated by: Alistair Ian Blyth

In June, when the solstice is nigh, dawn shows itself earlier than ever. Then, however, on a Wednesday, the sunrise did not come into sight. The coach laden with suitcases, bags and chests set into motion with a jolt, one of the horses (a tallish grey mare) whinnied and chomped at the bit, ...

Critics | Filip Florian

The Days of the King

May 01, 2009

Critic: Carmen Muşat

The Days of the King Filip Florian Polirom, 2008, 270 pp. Filip Florian belongs to the select club of “writers’ writers.” Days of the King is his third outing, and although it is evident by now that Florian never writes from the same playbook, something ...

Critics | Norman Manea

Norman Manea: Winner of the Third Observator Cultural Opera Omnia Award

April 01, 2009

Critic: Carmen Muşat

A witness to the paired totalitarianisms of the 20th century, Norman Manea is a writer of survivals. His medium is Romanian. He belongs to the world. With Gogol he shares the ability to express life’s absurdity while rendering—while constituting—overwhelming humanity. This in the face of ...

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About this issue

This July, The Observer Translation Project leaves its usual format to present a special CRISIS ISSUE. Things are tough all over. Hard Times suddenly feels like the book of the moment. The global economic crisis impacts life as we know it, and viewed from Bucharest the effects reverberate in domains that include geo-politics and publishing in Romania and abroad, with the crisis at The Observer Translation Project as an instance of a universal phenomenon. read more...

Translator's Choice

Author: Stelian Tănase
Translated by: Jean Harris

From Maestro: A Melodrama. Episode 7

Emiluţa has an unfortunate thought. She’ll throw herself off the top of the building. Why? What the fuck? Let’s say for the cause of PeaceonEarth, for the slumdogs, Europe, for the lonely. Which is to say she doesn’t have a ghost of a reason. Viva Walachia! The way things stand, if ...

Translator’s Note
Translator’s Note: a synopsis

Author: Ştefan Agopian
Translated by: Ileana Orlich

How I Learned to Read (from Tache de Catifea / The Velvet Man)

The bearded man was the owner of an apothecary shop where he worked with two apprentices. Nobody paid me any mind, so I spent all day in what was supposed to be the shop. I say this because it was a large, dark room full of odors—a mix of smells from everywhere. The room hadn’t been cleaned ...

Translator’s Note
Re: Learning to Read, from Tache de catifea / The Velvet Man

Author: Gabriela Adameşteanu
Translated by: Patrick Camiller

Wasted Morning - Napoleon in Bucharest

“What you’ve got here is heaven on earth,” Vica says as she drops onto the kitchen chair. “But where’s your mother?” “At work,” Gelu lazily replies, leaning sideways against the door. “She’s doing mornings this week, didn’t you know?” He is tall and thin, with unset ...

Author: Petre Ispirescu
Translated by: Jean Harris

Youth Without Age and Life Without Death

It happened once as never before-y, ‘cause if it couldn’t be true, it wouldn’t make a story about the time when the poplar tree made berries and the willow tree broke out in cherries, when bears began to brawl with their tails, and wolf and lamb, unfurling their sails, threw arms around each ...

Translator’s Note
On Petre Ispirescu