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Comments, ideas, reviews or whatever to:
d.caraccioli @ yahoo.co.uk</subtitle><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1053</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/blogspot/XGtU" /><feedburner:info uri="blogspot/xgtu" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><feedburner:emailServiceId>blogspot/XGtU</feedburner:emailServiceId><feedburner:feedburnerHostname>http://feedburner.google.com</feedburner:feedburnerHostname><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck4FQn0_cSp7ImA9WhRRGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-169756153258006777</id><published>2011-12-02T16:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T16:08:33.349-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-02T16:08:33.349-08:00</app:edited><title>When Gabriel Garcia Marquez Saw Ernest Hemingway</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/169756153258006777/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/12/when-gabriel-garcia-marquez-saw-ernest.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/169756153258006777?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/169756153258006777?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/8aN5soTX6o0/when-gabriel-garcia-marquez-saw-ernest.html" title="When Gabriel Garcia Marquez Saw Ernest Hemingway" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JyCa2Ko6iHAaVt3rhpCiR4lLtrY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/JyCa2Ko6iHAaVt3rhpCiR4lLtrY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
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For a fraction of a second, as always seemed to be the case, I found myself divided between my two competing roles. I didn’t know whether to ask him for an interview or cross the avenue to express my unqualified admiration for him. But with either proposition, I faced the same great inconvenience. At the time, I spoke the same rudimentary English that I still speak now, and I wasn’t very sure &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/8aN5soTX6o0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/12/when-gabriel-garcia-marquez-saw-ernest.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkIAQ3o-fSp7ImA9WhRRGEo.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-4731890301427499337</id><published>2011-12-02T16:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T16:02:22.455-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-02T16:02:22.455-08:00</app:edited><title>Cervantes prize goes to Chilean poet Parra</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/4731890301427499337/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/12/cervantes-prize-goes-to-chilean-poet.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4731890301427499337?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4731890301427499337?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/hOaMsraSwWc/cervantes-prize-goes-to-chilean-poet.html" title="Cervantes prize goes to Chilean poet Parra" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYI9ff1cLIVm2hbCk1EX5Ei69Q0/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYI9ff1cLIVm2hbCk1EX5Ei69Q0/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYI9ff1cLIVm2hbCk1EX5Ei69Q0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XYI9ff1cLIVm2hbCk1EX5Ei69Q0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Chilean poet Nicanor Parra has won the Cervantes Prize, the Spanish-speaking world's highest literary honor, for his influential work mixing everyday slang with traditional verse.
The 97-year-old poet, essayist and physics graduate was announced the winner Thursday in Madrid by Spanish Culture Minister Angeles Gonzalez-Sinde.
He published his first book of poetry in 1937 and eventually adopted &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BrBgYwaIM6cBzqHqtRLyfl9xRxY/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BrBgYwaIM6cBzqHqtRLyfl9xRxY/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BrBgYwaIM6cBzqHqtRLyfl9xRxY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/BrBgYwaIM6cBzqHqtRLyfl9xRxY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Jorge Volpi's address at the Guadalajara International Book Fair's Reading Promoters Conference.

“Fiction teaches us to be human” is the phrase that opened the Reading Promoters Conference as part of the address by Jorge Volpi, that ran longer than expected due to the great interest shown by the audience on the subject proposed by the writer: fiction as a tool for reading and in everyday life to&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/eQeHU4f_Ngo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/12/jorge-volpis-address-at-guadalajara.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkABRXcycCp7ImA9WhdXFk4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-5689340072016336866</id><published>2011-08-29T10:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T10:25:54.998-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-29T10:25:54.998-07:00</app:edited><title>Enrique Krauze: Redeemers</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/5689340072016336866/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/enrique-krauze-redeemers.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/5689340072016336866?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/5689340072016336866?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/RW4TlXfSgw0/enrique-krauze-redeemers.html" title="Enrique Krauze: Redeemers" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dh0a2wpFGMM34eN9WQTqbmA6NCc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dh0a2wpFGMM34eN9WQTqbmA6NCc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dh0a2wpFGMM34eN9WQTqbmA6NCc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/dh0a2wpFGMM34eN9WQTqbmA6NCc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  A look at literary and political figures in Latin America.  Read More    &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=RW4TlXfSgw0:4wpv29JV31Q:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=RW4TlXfSgw0:4wpv29JV31Q:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/RW4TlXfSgw0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/enrique-krauze-redeemers.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYFSXw5cCp7ImA9WhdXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-5383938876053135548</id><published>2011-08-29T06:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T13:28:38.228-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T13:28:38.228-07:00</app:edited><title>Francisco Goldman: Say Her Name</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/5383938876053135548/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/francisco-goldman-say-her-name.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/5383938876053135548?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/5383938876053135548?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/-Gc0_cx-qgg/francisco-goldman-say-her-name.html" title="Francisco Goldman: Say Her Name" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-c5zF8Crqi40K3jxu8bR_Q9wM-s/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-c5zF8Crqi40K3jxu8bR_Q9wM-s/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-c5zF8Crqi40K3jxu8bR_Q9wM-s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/-c5zF8Crqi40K3jxu8bR_Q9wM-s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Francisco Goldman's fourth novel is based on a real tragedy in which his wife, Aura Estrada, broke her neck while body-surfing along the Mexican coast, and died. She had recently turned 30. They had known each other for four years and would have celebrated  their second wedding anniversary if she had lived another month. Read More&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=-Gc0_cx-qgg:ummmMf08ITQ:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=-Gc0_cx-qgg:ummmMf08ITQ:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/-Gc0_cx-qgg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/francisco-goldman-say-her-name.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEYBR38_eyp7ImA9WhdXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-1639932656947624223</id><published>2011-08-25T06:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T13:29:16.143-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T13:29:16.143-07:00</app:edited><title>Quim Monzó: Guadalajara</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/1639932656947624223/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/quim-monzo-guadalajara.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/1639932656947624223?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/1639932656947624223?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/SX9G0rmtMdU/quim-monzo-guadalajara.html" title="Quim Monzó: Guadalajara" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tcQgICflD3xR2_h0Rc7akcux61g/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tcQgICflD3xR2_h0Rc7akcux61g/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tcQgICflD3xR2_h0Rc7akcux61g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/tcQgICflD3xR2_h0Rc7akcux61g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Three pages into Quim Monzó's new short story collection, the opening tale's seven-year-old protagonist makes a startling discovery: everyone over the age of nine in his family of carpenters is missing the ring finger of his left hand, and it's not  by accident. Welcome to "Family Life," which fits within the morbid boundaries of Guadalajara—a realm where fables are subvertedRead More&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=SX9G0rmtMdU:PdZTGt2rHEY:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=SX9G0rmtMdU:PdZTGt2rHEY:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/SX9G0rmtMdU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/quim-monzo-guadalajara.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEUGQXg4cSp7ImA9WhdXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-2267047287987704636</id><published>2011-08-22T04:02:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T13:30:20.639-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T13:30:20.639-07:00</app:edited><title>José Saramago: Death with Interruptions</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/2267047287987704636/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/jose-saramago-death-with-interruptions.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/2267047287987704636?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/2267047287987704636?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/XTe1BqH3p_8/jose-saramago-death-with-interruptions.html" title="José Saramago: Death with Interruptions" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Wnzou3lueLOiFt_LVOyLEZQ8jfU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Wnzou3lueLOiFt_LVOyLEZQ8jfU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Wnzou3lueLOiFt_LVOyLEZQ8jfU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Wnzou3lueLOiFt_LVOyLEZQ8jfU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I've just finished José Saramago's Death with Interruptions, a novel which I didn't consider as strong as Blindness, but which I felt, nevertheless, accomplished what it set out to do: which is to transform death into a human experience.
Like Blindness, which captures the shock of a community confronting a sudden plague of sightlessness, Death with Interruptions takes as its subject a cataclysmic&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=XTe1BqH3p_8:cvgTDj5QVUE:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=XTe1BqH3p_8:cvgTDj5QVUE:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/XTe1BqH3p_8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/jose-saramago-death-with-interruptions.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEQASXgyfCp7ImA9WhdXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-6363308271319475667</id><published>2011-08-22T03:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T13:32:28.694-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T13:32:28.694-07:00</app:edited><title>Goncalo Tavares: Learning to Pray in the Age of Technique</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/6363308271319475667/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/goncalo-tavares-learning-to-pray-in-age.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/6363308271319475667?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/6363308271319475667?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/tESPx0fHTUc/goncalo-tavares-learning-to-pray-in-age.html" title="Goncalo Tavares: Learning to Pray in the Age of Technique" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g0y0Y2QbJSZUgsO4LXbYfWS46VU/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g0y0Y2QbJSZUgsO4LXbYfWS46VU/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g0y0Y2QbJSZUgsO4LXbYfWS46VU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/g0y0Y2QbJSZUgsO4LXbYfWS46VU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;In the very first scene of this book, a young Lenz Buchmann is instructed by his father to "do" a young servant girl in front of him. The command is issued without qualification, and there is no recourse for Lenz except to follow it. From this incident  onward the novel spins forth a philosophy of strength, of power, of competence, of morality, or the lack thereof, that is alienating to say the &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=tESPx0fHTUc:6E1zcELKzsM:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=tESPx0fHTUc:6E1zcELKzsM:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/tESPx0fHTUc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/goncalo-tavares-learning-to-pray-in-age.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMEQnc7fSp7ImA9WhdXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-8644165946086181040</id><published>2011-08-22T03:07:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T13:33:23.905-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T13:33:23.905-07:00</app:edited><title>Gabriel García Márquez: Love in the Time of Cholera</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/8644165946086181040/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/gabriel-garcia-marquez-love-in-time-of.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/8644165946086181040?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/8644165946086181040?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/S26VbMrSt4o/gabriel-garcia-marquez-love-in-time-of.html" title="Gabriel García Márquez: Love in the Time of Cholera" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_n2LZTLMY04CAl-Y1e9D1hjF4NQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_n2LZTLMY04CAl-Y1e9D1hjF4NQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_n2LZTLMY04CAl-Y1e9D1hjF4NQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/_n2LZTLMY04CAl-Y1e9D1hjF4NQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Love in the Time of Cholera was probably one of the first books I read that introduced me to a South American sensibility, having been immersed in a traditional English A-level. That sense of reality slightly altered, not quite magical realism but  not life as we know it, despite the faded grandeur and trappings of a post-colonial state.Re-reading it a few years ago, unsurprisingly I struggled to&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=S26VbMrSt4o:qxw5_ttlr3E:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=S26VbMrSt4o:qxw5_ttlr3E:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/S26VbMrSt4o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/gabriel-garcia-marquez-love-in-time-of.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMCQX47fyp7ImA9WhdXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-2840305898773970454</id><published>2011-08-19T08:53:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T13:34:20.007-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T13:34:20.007-07:00</app:edited><title>José Saramago: Cain</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/2840305898773970454/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/jose-saramago-cain_19.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/2840305898773970454?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/2840305898773970454?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/S2hKr0tPYaU/jose-saramago-cain_19.html" title="José Saramago: Cain" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/STV1nlAVe4pQ0cnOjhRc9IXoxBs/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/STV1nlAVe4pQ0cnOjhRc9IXoxBs/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/STV1nlAVe4pQ0cnOjhRc9IXoxBs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/STV1nlAVe4pQ0cnOjhRc9IXoxBs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Abel and Cain have each made an offering to God. Abel's is accepted, Cain's rejected. In a fit of jealousy, Cain murders his brother. When God asks where Abel has got to, Cain replies tetchily, "Am I my brother's keeper?" God discovers the murder,  and Cain is punished. He will live, but he will be forever marked, and condemned to wander the earth.Read More&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=S2hKr0tPYaU:yZcpeLxdGbE:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=S2hKr0tPYaU:yZcpeLxdGbE:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/S2hKr0tPYaU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/jose-saramago-cain_19.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIFQHY5fSp7ImA9WhdXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-9127726488649978992</id><published>2011-08-17T03:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T13:35:11.825-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T13:35:11.825-07:00</app:edited><title>Horacio Castellanos Moya: Tyrant Memory</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/9127726488649978992/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/horacio-castellanos-moya-tyrant-memory.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/9127726488649978992?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/9127726488649978992?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/pHb1zFTtvhc/horacio-castellanos-moya-tyrant-memory.html" title="Horacio Castellanos Moya: Tyrant Memory" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lS5EIp_xThhPlME490hH2iAfi1c/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lS5EIp_xThhPlME490hH2iAfi1c/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lS5EIp_xThhPlME490hH2iAfi1c/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/lS5EIp_xThhPlME490hH2iAfi1c/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Horacio Castellanos Moya's Tyrant Memory is a book of revolution, of tanks rolling through city streets, of intrigue, imprisonment, and exile, of torn families and firing squads — but it will not for that reason be passed around dorm rooms, nor is  it likely to feature on Glenn Beck's old chalkboard. In El Salvador in April 1944, the dictatorship of Maximiliano Herna´ndez Marti´nez, a fascist who&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=pHb1zFTtvhc:KD7boP2XQFQ:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=pHb1zFTtvhc:KD7boP2XQFQ:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/pHb1zFTtvhc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/horacio-castellanos-moya-tyrant-memory.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EHRHY7fCp7ImA9WhdQFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-6345938603467704349</id><published>2011-08-16T06:00:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-16T06:00:35.804-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-16T06:00:35.804-07:00</app:edited><title>José Saramago: Cain</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/6345938603467704349/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/jose-saramago-cain.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/6345938603467704349?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/6345938603467704349?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/wpaxOB8gxTk/jose-saramago-cain.html" title="José Saramago: Cain" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3RrD3BY9ZwioMLdxe1CqfcI4g7I/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3RrD3BY9ZwioMLdxe1CqfcI4g7I/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3RrD3BY9ZwioMLdxe1CqfcI4g7I/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3RrD3BY9ZwioMLdxe1CqfcI4g7I/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; Cain is a Saramago novel that takes his oft-used "what if" set-up—what if people stopped dying within a geographic region (Death with Interruptions), or what if everyone in a town became blind (Blindness)—and asks, what if cain (Saramago doesn't capitalize  names in this book) were able to tell his story? This is cain of cain and abel, the first two children of adam and eve, the first murderer &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=wpaxOB8gxTk:5sXEAsUzbeI:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=wpaxOB8gxTk:5sXEAsUzbeI:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/wpaxOB8gxTk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/jose-saramago-cain.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUADRHwzfip7ImA9WhdQEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-821860879580264687</id><published>2011-08-12T09:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T09:49:35.286-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-12T09:49:35.286-07:00</app:edited><title>Carlos Franz: The Absent Sea</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/821860879580264687/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/carlos-franz-absent-sea.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/821860879580264687?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/821860879580264687?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/AetSvpqWZdY/carlos-franz-absent-sea.html" title="Carlos Franz: The Absent Sea" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6_EErbVeqwgjcUlevbSOKF3Eovc/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6_EErbVeqwgjcUlevbSOKF3Eovc/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6_EErbVeqwgjcUlevbSOKF3Eovc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/6_EErbVeqwgjcUlevbSOKF3Eovc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; "Where were you Mamá, when all those horrible things were taking place in your city?"  This question, put to Laura by her daughter Claudia, is what has drawn The Absent Sea's protagonist back to the fictional town of Pampa Hundida at the start of novelist  Carlos Franz's exploration of the turbulent aftermath of Chile's 1973 coup.  Read More   &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=AetSvpqWZdY:360kDBu8YZg:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=AetSvpqWZdY:360kDBu8YZg:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/AetSvpqWZdY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/carlos-franz-absent-sea.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUEMQXo4eip7ImA9WhdQEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-4303732763285204582</id><published>2011-08-12T09:47:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T09:48:00.432-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-12T09:48:00.432-07:00</app:edited><title>Roberto Bolaño: The Skating Rink</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/4303732763285204582/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/roberto-bolano-skating-rink.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4303732763285204582?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4303732763285204582?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/pFQNZpxKZLU/roberto-bolano-skating-rink.html" title="Roberto Bolaño: The Skating Rink" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kOEnvMHdiemmyJ5WMxbcfAdGq88/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kOEnvMHdiemmyJ5WMxbcfAdGq88/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kOEnvMHdiemmyJ5WMxbcfAdGq88/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/kOEnvMHdiemmyJ5WMxbcfAdGq88/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; The Chilean novelist and poet is best known for the novels The Savage Detectives and 2666: his "supernovel", in part an elegy to the real murder victims of a Mexican town.  Read More  &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=pFQNZpxKZLU:At0w56-fyWM:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=pFQNZpxKZLU:At0w56-fyWM:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/pFQNZpxKZLU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/roberto-bolano-skating-rink.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUcEQHozfCp7ImA9WhdQEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-823709981493889914</id><published>2011-08-12T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-12T09:36:41.484-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-12T09:36:41.484-07:00</app:edited><title>Gonçalo M. Tavares on man, machines and society</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/823709981493889914/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/goncalo-m-tavares-on-man-machines-and.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/823709981493889914?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/823709981493889914?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/VphSBpkjew0/goncalo-m-tavares-on-man-machines-and.html" title="Gonçalo M. Tavares on man, machines and society" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oFw9V_uNFlutVqWxMigwRM6DREM/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oFw9V_uNFlutVqWxMigwRM6DREM/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oFw9V_uNFlutVqWxMigwRM6DREM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/oFw9V_uNFlutVqWxMigwRM6DREM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; At euronews Elza Gonçalves speaks with Gonçalo M. Tavares on man, machines and society. His book, Learning to Pray in the Age of Technology, is coming out from Dalkey Archive Press this summer.  Read More    &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=VphSBpkjew0:jnSNjs9CStU:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=VphSBpkjew0:jnSNjs9CStU:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/VphSBpkjew0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/goncalo-m-tavares-on-man-machines-and.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04EQnc5fCp7ImA9WhdXF04.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-7897212278049514681</id><published>2011-08-12T09:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T13:25:03.924-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-08-30T13:25:03.924-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Moacyr Scliar" /><title>Moacyr Scliar: Kafka’s Leopards</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/7897212278049514681/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/moacyr-scliar-kafkas-leopards.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/7897212278049514681?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/7897212278049514681?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/Vc49Bviru1g/moacyr-scliar-kafkas-leopards.html" title="Moacyr Scliar: Kafka’s Leopards" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3d0SsVIVaJ8Y-u1Fbx8In2hcNUQ/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3d0SsVIVaJ8Y-u1Fbx8In2hcNUQ/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3d0SsVIVaJ8Y-u1Fbx8In2hcNUQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/3d0SsVIVaJ8Y-u1Fbx8In2hcNUQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;I was going to write a review of Kafka's Leopards by the recently deceased Brazilian author Moacyr Scliar, and then I got around to reading the piece that translator Thomas Beebee wrote for us on Scliar, his writings, and Kafka's Leopards and realized  that there was not much enlightenment that I could offer on any of these topics that Thomas had not already covered. So I come to you today, &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=Vc49Bviru1g:OAM2MAJlc9U:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=Vc49Bviru1g:OAM2MAJlc9U:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/Vc49Bviru1g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2011/08/moacyr-scliar-kafkas-leopards.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8GRXY7fSp7ImA9Wx9REEU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-5310707689381147092</id><published>2010-12-11T07:20:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-11T07:20:24.805-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-11T07:20:24.805-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="José Saramago" /><title>José Saramago: The Notebook</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/5310707689381147092/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/jose-saramago-notebook.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/5310707689381147092?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/5310707689381147092?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/4el7OHdqh6c/jose-saramago-notebook.html" title="José Saramago: The Notebook" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
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Leora Skolkin-Smith reviews José Saramago's The Notebook.
In September of 2008, at the age of eighty-five, Jose Saramago began to write a blog. His wife, watching him suffer the restlessness and anxiety of advanced age, had suggested to him that he try doing something challenging, as his traveling and own writing were slowing down. Unlike so many writers who viewed the approaching age of the &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=4el7OHdqh6c:NsfeJQG8Thg:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=4el7OHdqh6c:NsfeJQG8Thg:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/4el7OHdqh6c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/jose-saramago-notebook.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEEBSXs4fyp7ImA9Wx9SGE4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-4935492494783685893</id><published>2010-12-08T11:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-08T11:30:58.537-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-08T11:30:58.537-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Mario Benedetti" /><title>Mario Benedetti: The Rest is Jungle</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/4935492494783685893/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/mario-benedetti-rest-is-jungle.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4935492494783685893?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4935492494783685893?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/IwKsXZey_Lk/mario-benedetti-rest-is-jungle.html" title="Mario Benedetti: The Rest is Jungle" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
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Paul Doyle reviews Mario Benedetti's The Rest is Jungle.
The Uruguayan writer Mario Benedetti, sadly, was little translated into English during his lifetime, and most of what made it through was poetry. Perhaps this was because his fiction never quite fit the English-world model of a Latin American writer, neither writing the meta investigations of a Borges or Cortazar, nor delving into the &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=IwKsXZey_Lk:fpWEc0_E3OQ:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=IwKsXZey_Lk:fpWEc0_E3OQ:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/IwKsXZey_Lk" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/mario-benedetti-rest-is-jungle.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8AQnc4eip7ImA9Wx9SF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-3216109777749789280</id><published>2010-12-07T14:27:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T14:27:23.932-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-07T14:27:23.932-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Macedonio Fernandez" /><title>Macedonio Fernandez: The Museum of Eterna’s Novel: The First Good Novel</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/3216109777749789280/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/macedonio-fernandez-museum-of-eternas.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/3216109777749789280?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/3216109777749789280?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/7O0u2uDDjms/macedonio-fernandez-museum-of-eternas.html" title="Macedonio Fernandez: The Museum of Eterna’s Novel: The First Good Novel" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
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Three Percent reviews Macedonio Fernandez' The Museum of Eterna’s Novel: The First Good Novel.
Macedonio Fernandez is little known outside Argentina. Unfortunately I foresee this remaining the case for some time. Even with the recent translation and publication of his posthumous novel, The Museum of Eterna’s Novel: The First Good Novel (Museo de la Novela de la Eterna), by Open Letter Books (&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=7O0u2uDDjms:dHa62OCvoto:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=7O0u2uDDjms:dHa62OCvoto:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/7O0u2uDDjms" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/macedonio-fernandez-museum-of-eternas.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkYFSHw6cCp7ImA9Wx9SF0s.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-3606775895752435532</id><published>2010-12-07T14:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T14:15:19.218-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-07T14:15:19.218-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="José Saramago" /><title>José Saramago: The Elephant’s Journey</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/3606775895752435532/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/jose-saramago-elephants-journey.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/3606775895752435532?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/3606775895752435532?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/QmvODNyVjCQ/jose-saramago-elephants-journey.html" title="José Saramago: The Elephant’s Journey" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
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Richard Elliott reviews José Saramago's The Elephant’s Journey.
The late Portuguese writer José Saramago was a master at combining the fantastic with the banal, the metaphoric with the everyday. There’s always a sense in his prose that, whatever the story he might be telling us, there are a multitude of stories framing it, running alongside it, or visible just beyond its borders. Saramago wants &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=QmvODNyVjCQ:i1vSWaa2kAA:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=QmvODNyVjCQ:i1vSWaa2kAA:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/QmvODNyVjCQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/jose-saramago-elephants-journey.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0EDQHs7fip7ImA9Wx9SF0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-5900366836752012795</id><published>2010-12-07T14:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-07T14:07:51.506-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-12-07T14:07:51.506-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Roberto Bolaño" /><title>Roberto Bolaño: The Skating Rink</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/5900366836752012795/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/roberto-bolano-skating-rink.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/5900366836752012795?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/5900366836752012795?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/3oX6NjquTcc/roberto-bolano-skating-rink.html" title="Roberto Bolaño: The Skating Rink" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
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Tim Martin reviews Roberto Bolaño's The Skating Rink.
It took the English-speaking world until several years after Roberto Bolaño’s death in 2003 to get a sense of his genius in drip-fed translations, but, thanks to excellent English versions by (separately) Natasha Wimmer and Chris Andrews, a full-scale excavation of the Chilean novelist’s talent is now underway.

The Skating Rink is just one &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=3oX6NjquTcc:HVcgqwbMenk:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=3oX6NjquTcc:HVcgqwbMenk:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/3oX6NjquTcc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/12/roberto-bolano-skating-rink.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0UMSHc8cSp7ImA9Wx9TEU0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-3309290829561809665</id><published>2010-11-18T11:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-18T11:41:29.979-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-18T11:41:29.979-08:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Juan José Saer" /><title>Juan José Saer: The Sixty-Five Years of Washington</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/3309290829561809665/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/11/juan-jose-saer-sixty-five-years-of.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/3309290829561809665?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/3309290829561809665?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/d2sThYs45rI/juan-jose-saer-sixty-five-years-of.html" title="Juan José Saer: The Sixty-Five Years of Washington" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U_UImEaKs5nouSpo0-UW-Alsh1E/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U_UImEaKs5nouSpo0-UW-Alsh1E/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U_UImEaKs5nouSpo0-UW-Alsh1E/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/U_UImEaKs5nouSpo0-UW-Alsh1E/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Abigail B. Lind reviews Juan José Saer's The Sixty-Five Years of Washington.
Given its lofty historical and ontological concerns, it is easy to forget that “The Sixty-Five Years of Washington” is ultimately a travel narrative: a morning’s journey of 21 blocks. Saer punctuates his characters’ musings with descriptions of Santa Fe, and he fixates on a conception of “the city not as though it were &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=d2sThYs45rI:B4AxXdPzjk0:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=d2sThYs45rI:B4AxXdPzjk0:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/d2sThYs45rI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/11/juan-jose-saer-sixty-five-years-of.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04CSHo5eCp7ImA9Wx5aFE8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-4805705845018072343</id><published>2010-11-10T14:58:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T14:59:29.420-08:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-11-10T14:59:29.420-08:00</app:edited><title>Belles Étrangères</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/4805705845018072343/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/11/belles-etrangeres.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4805705845018072343?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4805705845018072343?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/aOHSrDEFKQI/belles-etrangeres.html" title="Belles Étrangères" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jEbpWQUfc_BrJokb-KgbIccI9m8/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jEbpWQUfc_BrJokb-KgbIccI9m8/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jEbpWQUfc_BrJokb-KgbIccI9m8/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jEbpWQUfc_BrJokb-KgbIccI9m8/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;

This year's edition of Belles Étrangères is dedicated to Colombian Literature. 
The invited author for this edition are: Hector Abad Faciolince, Antonio Caballero, Jorge Franco, Santiago Gamboa, Tomás Gonzalez, William Ospina, Juan Manuel Roca, Evelio Rosero, Gonzalo Sanchez, Antonio Ungar, Fernando Vallejo and Juan Gabriel Vásquez.

Here's an interview with Jorge Franco.
&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=aOHSrDEFKQI:2GySeSNew0c:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=aOHSrDEFKQI:2GySeSNew0c:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/aOHSrDEFKQI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/11/belles-etrangeres.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUAFSHg-cSp7ImA9Wx5UF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-4625883791215248370</id><published>2010-10-21T16:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T16:28:39.659-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-21T16:28:39.659-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Gonzalo Márquez Cristo" /><title>Interview with Gonzalo Márquez Cristo</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/4625883791215248370/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/10/interview-with-gonzalo-marquez-cristo.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4625883791215248370?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/4625883791215248370?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/IRLz1n9VtYM/interview-with-gonzalo-marquez-cristo.html" title="Interview with Gonzalo Márquez Cristo" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cTcSpffL6vVcU3uLR8bgkhDNp0k/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cTcSpffL6vVcU3uLR8bgkhDNp0k/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cTcSpffL6vVcU3uLR8bgkhDNp0k/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cTcSpffL6vVcU3uLR8bgkhDNp0k/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Nathalie Handal interviews Colombian poet, editor, and writer Gonzalo Márquez Cristo. An interview about his city Bogotá.
I have always believed that Bogotá is a city afflicted by rain, a troubled widow under the storm, a red city without a sky, and since I was a child I was faced with its most devious, and also its most feverish poetic possibilities. The Colombian capital is a city of 8 million &lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=IRLz1n9VtYM:f9cjgoTNMaA:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=IRLz1n9VtYM:f9cjgoTNMaA:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/IRLz1n9VtYM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/10/interview-with-gonzalo-marquez-cristo.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8DRn88eCp7ImA9Wx5UF00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19805668.post-8722211874071783531</id><published>2010-10-21T15:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T15:41:17.170-07:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2010-10-21T15:41:17.170-07:00</app:edited><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Silvina Ocampo" /><title>Silvina Ocampo: The Golden Hare</title><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/feeds/8722211874071783531/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/10/silvina-ocampo-golden-hare.html#comment-form" title="0 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/8722211874071783531?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/19805668/posts/default/8722211874071783531?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~3/8Wg5Vt3BVIA/silvina-ocampo-golden-hare.html" title="Silvina Ocampo: The Golden Hare" /><author><name>JM Almeida</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="16" height="16" src="http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif" /></author><thr:total>0</thr:total><content type="html">
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AcocxJg6gftP2HKEN-m6v27Lxzk/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AcocxJg6gftP2HKEN-m6v27Lxzk/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AcocxJg6gftP2HKEN-m6v27Lxzk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/AcocxJg6gftP2HKEN-m6v27Lxzk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;Andrea Rosenberg translated Silvina Ocampo's The Golden Hare and writes about it.
I knew I had to translate “The Golden Hare,” Silvina Ocampo’s mysterious fable, as soon as I read the first few sentences. Now often published separately as a children’s book in Argentina, it is the first story in Ocampo’s 1959 collection La furia (The Fury). Silvina, the less famous and more ethereal of Argentina’s&lt;div class="feedflare"&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=8Wg5Vt3BVIA:Yp1jO2BdeVk:yIl2AUoC8zA"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=yIl2AUoC8zA" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?a=8Wg5Vt3BVIA:Yp1jO2BdeVk:qj6IDK7rITs"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~ff/blogspot/XGtU?d=qj6IDK7rITs" border="0"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/blogspot/XGtU/~4/8Wg5Vt3BVIA" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><feedburner:origLink>http://splalit.blogspot.com/2010/10/silvina-ocampo-golden-hare.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

