The October issue of Words Without Borders is dedicated to humor in Arabic.
Proposed projects -- which can be supported with $12,500 or $25,000 grants -- "should be of interest for its literary excellence and value."
"The winner receives $200 and will be published alongside two semi-finalists in an upcoming issue of Lunch Ticket."
"We’ve found it difficult to work with writers who have been through the system, who’ve worked for the major newspapers and magazines — even younger writers — because of this attitude. This was one of the main reasons we started a music writing school a few years ago."
“In the introduction to his science-fiction novel 'Flight into Space,' the Egyptian journalist Husayn Qadri wrote that ‘men like us’ set their feet on the moon. ‘It does not matter, whether their names are John, Peter, Shatalov, Mustafa or Hasan.’”
"Sarah’s commitment to translation of poets from southern nations began when she was sent by the British Council in 1996 to Palestine. Through engagement with poets around the world, she developed the determination to fight the notion of ‘otherness’. Sarah chaired the workshops in the same inclusive spirit, and taught me much, and not only about translation."
Your love has taught me… how to be sad. And I have needed, for ages A woman to make me sad A woman in whose arms I could weep Like a sparrow,
"Include the original text if possible, as well as a short biography of the writer, a short biography of the translator, and a statement or concise paragraph introducing the work."
Another, related aspect that is very important for us is Ricoeur’s definition of translation as "linguistic hospitality," a practice that prompts you to go toward the other before inviting the other to your own home. In this sense translation represents a model for other types of hospitalities.
This short text by Iraqi short-story writer and playwright Hassan Blasim, translated by Jonathan Wright, has been circulating again on social media.
O Full Moon, Did you see my own full moon?
"Limbo Beirut″ is a demand that the reader ″balance in the uneasy space between being a voyeur and a participant, gratifying our desire to get inside the head of that stranger we meet on the street…but on the other hand surprising us with the fact that you can never just be a witness, that you′re always going to somehow become involved in the other′s life, whether you mean to or not.″