Essay by Patricia Dubrava
Many of the best translators know the language of the original well, but I share an advantage with all the best: I’m a writer, too.
Many of the best translators know the language of the original well, but I share an advantage with all the best: I’m a writer, too.
I miss her already, that’s the thing. I’ve been expecting to miss her for a long time.
People bring unknowable baggage to their readings—and to the author herself.
He loved self-reflection—the way memory, personal changes over time, and reality can come together to conjure a place far beyond documentation.
Whoever is holding the book is the beloved in some sense.
Swann’s Way was simply impassable. Even Proust said so.
Rather than walking the road back to my teenage obsession with science fiction, I’ve realized what I owe her as a journalist and teacher.
Burying my religion to sell a novel? That’s bad faith—or no faith at all.
Women are more apt to tell drawn-out stories, with caresses and tweaks.
I was the biographer of one woman, but I was also writing my own life.