The old adage aside, you can judge these books by their covers. For those interested in boundary-pushing works of literature from all over the world, Archipelago Books is a publisher worth following. Since its founding in 2003, this nonprofit press has published over 250 books, old and new, from over 40 languages, including Arabic, Indonesian, and Croatian.
Roughly 3% of the books published every year in the United States are works in translation, and most of these come from Western cultural centers such as France. In this largely homogeneous publishing landscape, Archipelago stands as a bastion of cultural exchange – offering fiction, memoir, essays, and poetry with international origins, from Lebanon to Rwanda. Its role as global translator is worthy of commendation.
While the content of the books in Archipelago’s catalog is incredibly diverse, the quality is quite consistent. With their distinctive shape and matte covers that feature evocative art, they beckon readers perusing bookstore shelves. I’ve found something to admire in every title of theirs that I’ve read.
Why We Wrote This
Novels from other countries offer a window on different cultures and histories. A trio of books in translation reveals riches for English-language readers.
Here is a trio of recent and just-published books from Archipelago exploring themes of colonialism on three continents.
Vital, bleak, unflinching
Felix Nesi’s debut novel, “People From Oetimu,” explores the history and legacy of multiple eras of colonialism on the island of Timor, his home. The region has been buffeted by the imperial ambitions of multiple powers, including Portugal, the Netherlands, Japan, and Indonesia.
The novel opens in 1998 with a World Cup viewing party. “Each night, everyone would get together in front of a TV and cheer on the little figures scrambling for the ball on the green field.” Suddenly, insurgents barge in. From there, the narrative jumps around in time, touching on the 1970s struggle for independence against Portugal and the Japanese occupation in the 1940s.
Nesi’s prose, translated from Indonesian into English by Lara Norgaard, is succinct and polished, matter-of-fact even. When employed in the novel’s many descriptive passages, it grounds readers firmly in the setting and the many troubling events that occur within it.
“People From Oetimu” is graphic, replete with unflinching depictions of violence. These are made all the more disturbing by the bluntness with which they are relayed. However, the scenes are not gratuitous. Rather, they are essential for communicating the brutality inherent in dominance by a foreign power.
Accompanying these scenes is a healthy dose of black humor, which lands thanks to Nesi’s dry delivery. This comedy lends a level of vitality to a novel whose subject matter is quite bleak.
“Vital” is a good word to describe “People From Oetimu.” The novel courses with energy and urgency, making it an important event in the world of contemporary political fiction.
Dreamlike, elegiac, unconventional
The second in Elias Khoury’s “Children of the Ghetto” trilogy, “Star of the Sea,” reveals more of the story of Adam Dannoun, a Palestinian born in 1948, the year of the Nakba (Arabic for “catastrophe”), who constructs a new identity for himself as an Israeli.
This dreamlike narrative explores Adam’s relationship with his mother, his romantic entanglements, and the many encounters that shape him.
Khoury, who died in 2024, was a prominent Lebanese intellectual, advocate for the Palestinian cause, and luminary of Arabic fiction. The “Children of the Ghetto” trilogy (the third of which has not yet been translated into English) is a fitting capstone for Khoury’s career.
Told in a fragmentary narrative filled with digression (and interjections from the author), Khoury’s novel tackles themes of identity and oppression that are incredibly relevant today. Its unconventional style mixes experimentation and political insight. The author’s elegiac prose is wrought in English by translator Humphrey Davies.
“When he left the house, Adam felt like he was drowning,” Khoury writes. “Rain was pouring down on Haifa, threatening to swallow it whole and hasten its slide into the sea. Seen from the sea, the city resembled a dove spreading its wings.”
Transfixing, lyrical, humorous
In “Sister Deborah,” acclaimed French Rwandan novelist Scholastique Mukasonga sends readers on a transfixing journey. She explores themes of Black femininity, religion, and colonialism in her 2022 novel, newly translated by Mark Polizzotti.
The narrative follows Ikirezi, a Rwandan woman searching for the eponymous Sister Deborah, a Black American Evangelical and prophet who saved her when she was a malnourished child. Deborah seemingly has the power to heal through touch and proclaims the coming of a new Messiah, a Black woman. She goes missing after the military brutally clamps down on her ministry.
Mukasonga writes with lyricism, poise, and no small amount of humor. While reading, one can’t help but take note of her craftsmanship. Acclaimed writers such as Zadie Smith and Nobel Prize in literature winner J.M. Coetzee number among her admirers.
The art of translation is underappreciated – especially in the age of Google Translate and artificial intelligence. But it would be a mistake to neglect the remarkable translators who preserve the artistic vision of these works while making them accessible to a broader world.
