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Oh this one pains me. I love reading Lahiri's books. One of her books is in my top all time favorites. She is an author that I beg my library for her books without even reading what they are about. I did the same her, but in the end, I was disappointed with this one. I thought that perhaps, once she’d finished the translation, I could weigh in on one or two matters, and that my role would be respectfully collaborative. Grandmotherly, which was how I felt when Mira Nair had turned one of my other novels into a film. Perhaps this time I would be a slightly more involved grandmother than I had been to Ann Goldstein’s translation of In Other Words (produced at a time when I was wary of any reconnection with English, and did not relish at all the role of being a grandmother). Deep down, however, I was convinced that when I saw the English version, it would reveal, brusquely and definitively, the book’s failure to function in English, not due to any fault of Frederika, but because the book itself, inherently flawed, would refuse to comply, like a potato or an apple that, decayed within, must be set aside once it is cut open and examined, and cannot lend itself to any other dish. Rapporti internazionali in particolare elevando le relazioni con le economie emergenti, rafforzando il contributo italiano alla sicurezza internazionale e contribuendo alla sicurezza energetica del nostro Paese; Originally written in Italian it is translated by the author herself and it reveals her poetic soul. The language is enchanting. You feel warm through your whole being. More a reflection on the wonder of life and the things around you. You don’t feel like a confident listening to gossip; you don’t feel you are just nodding in the right places. You feel part of the woman’s life, as integral to her being and presence as her shoes. Not just seeing with her eyes but engaging all your senses. In its starred review, Publishers Weekly wrote, "Lahiri's poetic flourishes and spare, conversational prose are on full display." [8]

Joy of Translation as Discovery Jhumpa Lahiri on the Joy of Translation as Discovery

She’s in tune with the rhythms and seasons of her city. How important is her hometown to her? Is there something particularly Italian about this sense of place? Would you have been able to enter into the life of your protagonist, the woman on the bridge, if you’d written this in English? Does the use of Italian change the way you understand her? I loved the style and content of short chapters that were like a lived in news report, personal, honest and self-effacing. The short articles have a continuity and a passing chronology that builds up into a bigger picture and lifts the prose beyond just random diary entries.The past year has been “an incredibly intense time”, as she has watched the pandemic unfold in two homes – Italy and the US. But it has also been one of the most productive: she has just finished a collection, Roman Stories, again written in Italian, which include some inspired by the Bengali immigrants she met in Rome; she is putting together a book of essays on translation (she recently translated the novels of her friend Domenico Starnone, Italy’s “finest living writer”); and perhaps most remarkably, her first book of poetry – in Italian – will be published in June. She has never written a poem in English before and “maybe never will”, she says. Just as she would never have written Whereabouts in English, she thinks writing in Italian made poetry possible. “When I first started writing in English I felt like an interloper. When I first started writing in Italian I felt like an interloper. When I was writing the poems I felt like an interloper. But maybe that’s not a bad thing.” Whereabouts is the latest novel by Jhumpa Lahiri that is captivating not only because of the beautiful prose but the dreamlike quality to the book as we follow an unknown narrator through an unknown city in Italy for an entire year. And the fifth shining star was given because Lahiri moved to Italy quite a few years ago embracing the country, the culture and the language. She wrote this book in Italian and then translated it herself into English. Brava Signorina!!! Solitude demands a precise assessment of time, I've always understood this. It's like the money in your wallet: you have to know how much time you need to kill, how much to spend before dinner, what's left over before going to bed Lahiri did publish a previous Italian language non-fiction piece, In altre parole in 2015, describing her love affair with the Italian language, which was translated into English by the same Ann Goldstein.

Ale OF – Telegram

Promozione e internazionalizzazione del sistema della ricerca scientifica italiano e dell’innovazione attraverso la partecipazione alla governance delle organizzazioni scientifiche multilaterali, la rete degli Addetti Scientifici e il finanziamento di progetti di ricerca scientifica nel quadro dei Protocolli Esecutivi di Cooperazione Scientifica e Tecnologica. Rappresentanza della posizione italiana nel processo di integrazione europea nell’attuazione della politica estera e di sicurezza comune europea, nonché nelle relazioni politiche ed economiche estere dell’Unione Europea; This novella was written by the Booker shortlisted (and Pulitzer Prize winning) author Jhumpa Lahiri in Italian, a language with which she has said that she fell in love since first visiting the country in 1994 prior to moving to Rome), one in which she has written and from which she has translated (most noticably a novel by Domenico Starnone – an author at the heart of Elena Ferrante identify claims). Published successfully in Italian and already translated into a number of European languages, this English translation is by the author herself.Whenever my surroundings change I feel enormously sad. This is especially true if the place I leave behind is linked to memories, grief, or happiness. It's the change itself that unsettles me[.]" Personally....I’m a little tired about the emphasis that Lahiri wrote this in Italian....then translated it to English. Realising I was reading a novel in Dutch that was translated from the Italian written by a Bengali-American author who chose to leave the language she used to write in behind and express herself in a newly acquired foreign language, puzzled me and made me wonder if I was possibly reading Lahiri’s thoughts as if diluted through a double filter. Why an author would chose deliberately to substitute the precision instrument that is one’s mastery of a language for one that can only be a blunter one, rendering what is perhaps solely an approximate expression of one’s thoughts? The prose style is peaceful, restrained, moderate, unhurried - it never changes pace and is straightforward to read. I don't know - this just feels underwhelming to me, a sort of generic version of contemporary 'literary women's writing' that never engaged or connected with me - instantly forgettable, in my case, I'm afraid. She has always felt she existed in “a kind of linguistic exile” long before she left for Rome. She was born in London, the daughter of Indian immigrants, and the family moved to the US when she was two. Growing up in Rhode Island (her father, like many of her characters, worked at the university), with frequent trips to Calcutta, she felt her story to be “much more complicated” than those of her school friends: “There was always ‘the other place’ and ‘the other language’ and ‘the other world’.” Bengali, which she spoke until she was four, is both her mother tongue and “a foreign language”, because she can’t read or write it: it is her parents’ language, “the language of their world”. Lahiri and her sister were educated in English, which she came to regard as a bullying “stepmother”. “Why am I fleeing? What is pursuing me? Who wants to restrain me?” she asks in In Other Words. “The most obvious answer is the English language.”

Jhumpa Lahiri on Missing Rome | The New Yorker Jhumpa Lahiri on Missing Rome | The New Yorker

To translate is to alter one’s linguistic coordinates, to grab on to what has slipped away, to cope with exile. Nilanjana Sudeshna "Jhumpa" Lahiri was born in London and brought up in South Kingstown, Rhode Island. Brought up in America by a mother who wanted to raise her children to be Indian, she learned about her Bengali heritage from an early age.The story tells us about a woman in her 40s living life on her own, reflecting on the life she has lived so far. Lahiri has always been adept at describing emotional depths with spare literary means: the simplest words, the least elaborate sentences. The responsibility of translation is as grave and precarious as that of a surgeon who is trained to transplant organs, or to redirect the blood flow to our hearts, and I wavered at length over the question of who would perform the surgery.