📘 "Will and Testament" by Vigdis Hjorth, translated from Norwegian into English by Charlotte Barslund

This book has consumed me for a while. It's autofiction, the protagonist is estranged from her parents and siblings, but then gets entangled in a fight over the will. The toxic dynamics that led to the estrangement become more obvious as the book progresses.

I think this book will be read quite differently by readers, depending on their families. If you're from a happy home, you might question the main character more (she is an unlikable character at times for sure). You might be drawn to the idea of 'both sides', willing to give the parents a chance to make their case.

If you're an estranged reader yourself, I'm sure you'll recognize the situation from page one. Every person has their own reason for estrangement, but some aspects are universal. The lack of care from the parents for the protagonist's suffering and wellbeing are present on every page. Their unwillingness to understand a different point of view along with their feigned ignorance about the circumstances is infuriating. The endless darvo-ing (deny, attack, reverse victim and offender) that comes with it...

Although I'm estranged from my family for a different reason than the protagonist, this book was painfully relatable. I couldn't believe how accurate some scenes were, like the author had taken them directly from my head. Every few chapters I put the book down, because it made me reflect a lot on memories I hadn't thought about in years. The way the text repeats and repeats certain phrases, loops back to them eternally, sometimes it felt like I was stuck in a never-ending argument where I'm explaining myself a million times in a desperate desire to finally be understood. It's constructed that well.

Obviously I love the book, although it's from a very personal place. I hate some of the choices the protagonist makes! I dislike some of the psychology she clings to. I wanted to change the password to her inbox so we wouldn't have to be jumpscared by another incoming email anymore. But it fits, feeling so strongly is what adds to the novel being good.

This is my third book by Hjorth and I'll continue on. She's becoming one of my favorite authors.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "Het uur van de ster" by Clarice Lispector, translated from Portuguese to Dutch by Adri Boon

Available in English as "Hour of the Star" in multiple translations from multiple publishers. The most recent one I saw is by Benjamin Moser, published by New Directions.

I walked by this book twice in the library without picking it up, but I couldn't resist it a third time. What an odd title, what an intriguing cover. The book is bit meta, unusual in its structure and quite hard to explain. But I'll try.

There's a narrator, he's unfolding or writing a story in front of our eyes about the protagonist, a girl who lives in poverty in Brazil. He's not writing it just because, he has to do it, it's weighing him down. He knows it all, whereas the protagonist knows so little. The closest thing I've read to such a structure is 'A Leopard-Skin Hat' by Anne Serre (tr. Mark Hutchinson), but still it's very different. That book is filled with warmth and sadness, but this book confronted me with the emptiness of sadness (but also with the warmth and awe of being alive at all, maybe just like A Leopard-Skin Hat).

This book has been rolling around in my head for the last few days, but I find it very hard to articulate my thoughts on it. I see my grandmother's life in the girl, which makes me sad. I see my mother's youth in the girl and it weighs me down. I recognize a few aspects of myself in her too, and I quickly want to turn the page to not have to see it anymore.

The way the narrator almost seems to toy with the protagonist freaks me out, but then he pours out so much care for her that I get it. But then he gets distracted by something different he wants to expand on, and I feel manipulated myself: are you telling me this tale or are you just talking about yourself here?! Actually, nevermind, it's okay. You can confess your innermost thoughts to me. I'm now getting sucked into that too.

It'll take a little longer to digest this short work. Meanwhile I'll be looking up every other Clarice Lispector work that has ever been translated.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "There's No Such Thing as an Easy Job" by Kikuko Tsumura, translated from Japanese into English by Polly Barton

An fun book about a woman in her thirties starting 'easy' jobs that hopefully require the lowest amount of effort possible from her because she's recovering from burnout, only for her to continuously stumble upon slightly sinister happenings that convince her it would be better to switch jobs again.

If I had to show what a cozy book is to me, I'd hold up this title as an example. I don't know what it says about me or the current state of the world that a woman completing long work hours for a minimum wage can be cozy. But the jobs are easily found, there are no stressful interviews, her co-workers are okay, her bosses are not that bad, and the job tasks are uncomplicated. I think for many people these jobs genuinely feel almost utopic compared to their own lives right now. I was upset myself when the protagonist left her job of writing interesting trivia notes that are printed on rice cracker packaging. I'd keep that job... I'd pull the trolley lever for that job... Theoretically only, of course...

Anyway, it's an enjoyable read. It shows how every workplace can be its own little world with its own culture and customs. It has a tiny bit of magical realism sprinkled in, but not enough to become weird. It's humorous and flows well enough to keep reading for hours. At times it pushes the 'all work is meaningful actually' a little too hard. It all wraps up neatly with an expected happy ending. "Voilà!" the book said with a smile when I finished the last page.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "The Cut Line" by Carolina Pihelgas, translated from Estonian into English by Darcy Hurford

This title isn't out yet, but will be released next week, in February 2026. I received a digital ARC for it (thanks!).

This is a short book about a woman taking the first steps to heal. The protagonist grew up with a toxic mother and escaped the home through an abusive relationship with an older man. That's in the past now. The main character is in her 30s and ready to be her own person. After breaking up with her boyfriend, she moves to the family's empty farmstead and spends a summer there.

The book follows her as she grieves, builds, feels shame, grows, doubts herself and peacefully bathes in the sun. Meanwhile climate change eats away at the farmstead on one side, while a new military base with all its noises starts encroaching on the other side. It's an interesting balance in this relatively calm, slow-paced book: the pit in your stomach you feel when a certain name pops up in the protagonist's inbox, the happiness of seeing plants grow again, the fear of a possible upcoming war, the beauty of the natural world around you, the shame of your memories, the confidence of becoming more self-reliant, the stress of a drought that never ends, the excitement of learning something unexpected about the past... I loved reading it. Realistic, relatable and unfortunately very fitting in this year.

Some real regions and towns are mentioned, so off I went to Google Streetview to look around. The protagonist sometimes visits Võru, which is near her farm. Keeping that in mind, I wonder if the military base in the book is Reedo. It opened in 2024, a little after the book was first published. Was this book partially a response to the preparations or the announcement of this base? I'm pondering this while listening to the sound of some military planes practicing overhead. The dread of the near future is ever present, isn't it? I wish more books made use of it like this one.

If you'd ask me if the ending made me hopeful and motivated, or hopeless and tense, I wouldn't be able to answer you. Absolutely both.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "The White Book" by Han Kang, translated from Korean into English by Deborah Smith

I loved reading the White Book, but I'm not sure how to put my thoughts about it into words.

It's a book written in fragments, divided into three parts, told through things that are white. But it's a book about Han Kang's older sibling, a sister who passed away a few hours after her birth. It's in the empty spot this person left behind that Han Kang could be born and exists. What a heavy thing to be alive in someone else's stead, to be able to exist because others died. Ultimately, indirectly, this is the case for everyone alive today. But it's different to have it so directly present in your current life, within one family.

Han Kang reimagines what part of her sister's life could have been like, had her sister lived in her stead. But she also focuses on her own life, and other lives that have come before and shall come after. Loss and destruction are tragic, but they are never the end.

I'm sure reading it yourself would be better than whatever summary I can come up with. It might sound sad (and of course it also is), but it's calming too. In some way it seems like a companion to We Do Not Part. Maybe that's a bit much, but I do see a thread linking the two. A trail of snow leading you from one to the other.

I'll leave you with one quote:

"Standing at this border where land and water meet, watching the seemingly endless recurrence of the waves (though this eternity is in fact illusion: the earth will one day vanish, everything will one day vanish), the fact that our lives are no more than brief instants is felt with unequivocal clarity.

Each wave becomes dazzlingly white at the moment of its shattering. Farther out, the tranquil body of water flashes like the scales of innumerable fish. The glittering of multitudes is there. The shifting, stirring, tossing of multitudes. Nothing is eternal."

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation

📘 "With the Heart of a Ghost: Stories" by Lim Sunwoo, translated from Korean into English by Chi-Young Kim

This title isn't out yet, but will be released in February 2026. I received a digital ARC for it (thanks!).

These stories were a comforting balm I didn't know I needed. I read one a day, except for the last two. The stories were so good that I didn't want to pace myself anymore and read them on the same day, haha.

The cover is very cute and whimsical, which might be a little misleading. The stories certainly have their whimsy, but they tackle heavy topics too. They're about grief and learning when to let go. They're about life being different than you'd hoped or imagined. But frequently they're also about finding connection in unexpected places. They're about the true emotions hidden deep under a quick reaction or judgmental thought.

It's very difficult to pick my favorite story, so I'll cheat and mention two: That Unfamiliar Night and Go Sleep At Home. Both have a strong focus on friendship and loneliness. Two different stories brought a tear to my eye, namely the first and the last of the collection. However, having finished the book a few days ago, the story I find myself returning to in my head over and over is the one about a jellyfish apocalypse and the people who might want to embrace it.

I think all of these stories handle difficult topics well, in a calm and soothing way. A few end a bit abruptly and the different protagonists have some overlap in how they sound and come across, but I think it didn't bother me that much because they all touched me. I usually read a lot about people being awful to each other and nothing turning out well. This book is about people trying to make the best of their circumstances together in their own unique, small ways. Comforting.

Overall I'd really recommend it if it sounds at all interesting to you.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation #ShortStories

📗 "Black Box" by Shiori Ito, translated from Japanese into English by Allison Markin Powell

I never encountered the name Shiori Ito until several Japanese-speaking people in my Masto feed mentioned her book. So I picked it up, had my soul crushed, came out crying.

This is a memoir about Ito's sexual assault (violent rape, likely through the use of date rape drugs in her drink) at the hands of Noriyuki Yamaguchi, a well-connected journalist and Shinzo Abe's biographer.

After it has happened, the 'help' she receives from hotlines and hospitals is severely lacking. The police don't really investigate and she has to carry the burden herself and collect information and evidence with the help of friends and acquaintances. The few steps that are taken by officials are (re)traumatizing. To top it all off, the rapist's connections clearly help him with covering it all up and preventing any meaningful legal action being taken against him.

I think what makes this memoir unique is that no detail is spared. It was hard reading through the whole assault. Every feeling of terror and helplessness that follow her around forever afterwards, and the extreme frustration of dealing with the report and its aftermath, is felt on every page. Ito has good friends who help her, a lot of knowledge and a massive drive to keep going, and still it was an uphill battle with few results. It's clear that a person alone with limited means never even stood a chance.

What made me very sad while reading, was to see her family reject her because of her press conference, one member even not speaking to her for a time afterwards. I can understand not recommending a press conference, being angry and disappointed, and maybe even fearing the backlash for yourself by being related. But if your loved one has a good reason and is doing it anyway, why not cope by supporting them and each other, why add to the hurt?

Anyway: read with caution, because I think it can trigger a lot of bad memories for many readers -it did for me. But I think it was worth reading this book and passing on the recommendation to the next reader.

Since Noriyuki Yamaguchi (山口 敬之) isn't decently held in check by the law or his own morality, I hope by now his name is recognized everywhere. May everyone avoid and reject his presence everywhere he goes.

#AmReading #WomenInTranslation #memoir

📗 "Memoirs of Louis XIV and His Court and of the Regency" by Elisabeth Charlotte von der Pfalz, Duchess of Orléans

The public domain strikes again. This is written by the wife of the younger brother of Louis XIV. It may sound a bit unhinged of me, but this is the funniest book I've read this year. I've laughed out loud so many times. I've told dozens of anecdotes from this book to others. This is Mean Girls but make it 1700 France.

It's categorized as a memoir, but it reads more like a diary (or burn book). Most of the entries are about French royalty or aristocracy from other European countries. If she doesn't like someone, her writing is savage. Her descriptions of people's appearances are so mean. So many people who appear in this book are incredibly petty too, so it's funny seeing them being dragged through the mud.

Obviously the Duchess is very literate and well-spoken, especially for her time (and also compared to everyone she writes about). Her position is kind of sad, though. She was forced to leave Germany, move to France and get married to a man who doesn't really seem to care about her. Most of her time is spent dealing with nonsense intrigue, gossip and bullying. Still, she and the people around her are self-centered and barely a word is spoken about regular citizens or their suffering. It's shocking how much the nobility live in their own little universe.

Some anecdotes that made me crack up:

- An old woman in a white robe hanging around outside at night, scaring most of the palace, because everyone thinks she's a ghost. She did it on purpose, for her own pleasure. What a hero. The author helped her avoid a severe punishment for it.

- The author constantly complaining that she keeps telling her son that he shouldn't step into the carriages of people he doesn't know! Stranger danger!!!

- A man, knowing his wife was having an affair, catching them in the act but giving the lover the time to hide, pretending not to notice. Then fine dining for hours in the same room, so the lover is stuck under the bed for all that time. Afterwards he casually slides a plate of food under the bed, to shock his wife and her lover that he knew all along.

- That one guy who kept eating too much food in secret, and they didn't know until he passed away and they found heaps of empty plates under his bed.

- A lady who was sick of her husband threatening her with a loaded gun whenever something didn't please him, filled her bedroom with loaded guns and swords to threaten him back. It worked.

The list could contain dozens of things. There's so much cheating, drama, poisonings, scheming, what have you, in here. I really couldn't keep up with it all.

I may sound mean having a laugh like this, because the author clearly also suffered, and others did as well. There are tragedies in the text too. The way in which every illness still gets 'treated' with bloodletting, is horrible to see. Many die painful deaths. But in the large scope of the time period, the country, the world... These people were really out there hoarding wealth and poisoning each other over the silliest gossip while a famine was happening. I think it's okay to laugh at the frivolousness of their interests and desires 300 years later.

What makes the Duchess more bearable than most, is that she can also laugh with herself and her circumstances at times (but not always). She tries to stay out of the drama. Does she succeed? Not really.

Sadly I have no idea who translated this into English. Project Gutenberg didn't state a name or I didn't see it. But it was extremely readable for a modern day reader, and some added notes about who's who were helpful. Overall an easy and interesting read.

#AmReading #memoir #WomenInTranslation