Social Reading Recs: How Social Media Grew My Reading List

We often talk about what we’re reading but not how we choose what we read. The story behind those to-be read lists, however, deserves its share of spotlight.

This past weekend, I went to the Baltimore Book Festival for the first time. Greeted by unseasonably warm weather, throngs of readers strolled among tents featuring authors talking about their works. I attended lectures on editing bon mots,[*] social justice, monsters in modern horror, and food in science fiction. I bought and discussed books whose titles I just learned that day. Being an avid reader, I loved having the opportunity to delve into new topics and books I didn’t know existed. Perhaps the only book-related topic I didn’t hear mentioned was how we find the books we choose to read when we don’t have a handy festival to suggest interesting titles. We often talk about what we’re reading but not how we choose what we read. The story behind those to-be read lists, however, deserves its share of spotlight.

Social Reading Recs: How Social Media Grew My Reading List
Baltimore Book Festival 2017, as seen from the Ferris wheel. (Photo by R. E. Gould.)

Polling the Readers

I’ll admit that this topic that occurred to me well before I sauntered forth to bake in the Baltimorean sunshine amongst the bookish. Perhaps a week or two earlier, I’d been looking over lists of books I read or intended to read and came to the realization that many recommendations came from Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads, WordPress, and even (on occasion) Facebook.[†] Being curious, I conducted a small poll on Twitter to find out whether any other readers saw their reading lists expand courtesy of social media. Slightly over half of my respondents agreed that social media helped grow their reading lists, with contemporary fiction writer and blogger Nastasya Parker observing that these recommendations made her reading “even more rewarding”. Novelist Anne Charnock (Dreams Before the Start of Time) concurred, stating that “Twitter is good for book recommendations—from a bunch of people whose recs are pretty reliable”. The remaining individuals divided into those who felt social media hadn’t increased the length of their reading lists (slightly over 25%) and those who were unsure. Arguably, these results could depend on how those individuals use social media. Not everyone goes to Twitter and asks, “Read a good book lately?” or finds people whose reading habits resonate with their own.

Social Reads

I certainly hadn’t expected better to-be read book lists to be part of the bargain when I’d joined some social media outlets.[‡] However, my first Twitter chat revealed the power of the social reading community. When several like-minded individuals gather to talk about books, there’s a good chance for discovering new titles to read. In this case, the July 2016 #women_writers chat focused on reading women in translation, and, as I noted in a different post, I discovered a gap in my reading. It wasn’t long before several books were proposed to remedy that problem. I could (and did) find articles suggesting books to read for #WITmonth (like this one), but receiving multiple recommendations for certain books or authors from this group really identified worthy titles.[§] And I’ve had similar experiences with Instagram (The Reading Women come to mind) and my Goodread reading groups, to name a few.

Social Reading Recs: How Social Media Grew My Reading List. Text by Rita E. Gould
Social reading isn’t just for libraries.
So, spending more time on social media perversely improved my offline reading. Of course, it’s not the only place to find captivating books to read. There’s reviews (in print and online), best-seller lists, and so forth. There’s even the simple expedient of walking into the local library or bookshop and checking out what’s on display. Social media, however, makes it easier to connect with people who share your reading tastes and make reliable recommendations. Reading tends to be a solitary pursuit, but looking for new books to read needn’t be lonesome.

Has social media improved your reading list? Let me know and share your suggestions for a good read!

NOTES:

[*] The Old Editor Says: Maxims for Writing and Editing by John E. McIntyre.

[†] I also created an imaginary click-bait link: “How Twitter Improved My Reading Life!” (In my head, titles like this seem to read by an old-timey news broadcaster). Naturally, should this article have existed, it would have parodied articles devoted to improving one’s romantic/sex life.

[‡] Except Goodreads. Because that’s rather the whole point, isn’t it?

[§] Two different Goodreads groups recommended works by Han Kang (either The Vegetarian or Human Acts), as did Twitter chats and various Instagram posters. Both books were compelling, challenging reads.

Loneliness and Grief in Yoshimoto’s Kitchen

“I got dressed to begin another day. Over and over, we begin again.”

The heart of the home truly is the kitchen for the young protagonist of Banana Yoshimoto’s debut novel Kitchen (translated by Megan Backus). University student Mikage Sakurai loves kitchens, which become her refuge when the death of her grandmother making her an orphan twice over.[*] Stunned by her utter solitude (“It’s total science fiction. The blackness of the cosmos.”), she only can sleep next to the humming refrigerator. Other obligations also press on her. While her grandmother left her money,[†] she nonetheless must downsize her apartment to stretch her funds. Still grief-stricken, the thought of moving and house hunting paralyzes her. Fortunately, Mikage also inherits her grandmother’s friendship with Yuichi Tanabe. Yuichi, a younger university student, works part-time at the floral shop her grandmother frequented. He and his mother, Eriko, offer a much needed respite by opening their home to Mikage, complete with a beautiful kitchen (“It was a good kitchen. I fell in love with it at first sight”).

Grief, Connection, and Magic

Yoshimoto’s novel (as well as its novella companion “Moonlight Shadow”)[‡] contemplates grief and loneliness with a delicate touch. While these emotions predominate, they are offset by moments of joy and connection. Yoshimoto uses light and dark imagery symbolically to reinforce these feelings: in the novel’s second half, “the telephone was glowing” in Yuichi’s mind whereas Mikage felt the line to Yuichi was submerged in deep, dark water, respectively suggesting his need for her companionship and her recognition of his grief. Part of the novel’s charm in negotiating such difficult topics involves its subtle use of magical realism that confers an almost fairy-tale quality to the story. Yuichi appears at just the right moment to offer Mikage a place to live while she sorts out her affairs. Both young people share a remarkable dream that takes place in the grandmother’s now empty kitchen, in which Yuichi implores Mikage to stay at his family’s apartment. Mikage even intuits which hotel room belongs to Yuichi before scaling the wall to deliver him katsudon. (This latter example also represents a brilliant gender role reversal, as Mikage plays—albeit comically—the traditionally male role of rescuer for a distressed Yuichi.)

Katsudon
You had me at katsudon. (Yōfū Katsudon [Western-style pork cutlet on rice] at Nagaoka, Niigata Prefecture, Japan. Siriusplot at Japanese Wikipedia. CC-BY-SA-3.0-migrated.)

Transformations

However magical her delivery may be, Yoshimoto does not shield her characters from pain. Eriko explains hers (and the novel’s) philosophy to Mikage: we must experience “true despair” to understand joy. Mikage also comes to accept that, even when we are with others, we are always alone. While she despairs that we’re “always defeated”, this knowledge lets her live more fully. Grief, therefore, is transformative in Kitchen. Having discovered a passion for cooking while living with the Tanabes, Mikage leaves university and successfully embarks on a cooking career despite her limited qualifications. Eriko’s own experience of grief literally changes her. Watching his wife slowly succumb to cancer forced Eriko to understand that “the world didn’t exist for [his] benefit”.[§] Becoming aware that he disliked being a man and realizing he would never love again, Eriko transitioned to a woman and opened a gay nightclub,[**] thereby straddling roles of provider and nurturer. Her story essentially serves as a loose guide for Mikage who also bridges these roles: cooking is her profession but it is one that nurtures.

The kitchen, of course, serves as an extended metaphor throughout this novel, representing that which sustains people through terrible loss, both in terms of sustenance (food, nourishment) and refuge. Kitchen creates this space as a haven for healing and connection, perhaps even new beginnings. And it’s this uplifting spirit that makes Kitchen a story that satisfies indeed.

NOTES:

[*] Mikage’s grandparents raised her after her parents died. Her grandfather subsequently died while she was in junior high school. Hence, she’s doubly orphaned by losing two sets of guardians.

[†] Discovering an orphaned character who isn’t destitute is a pleasure.

[‡] “Moonlight Shadow” (also translated by Megan Backus) typically accompanies Kitchen. My focus here is on the larger work.

[§] My pronoun usage mirrors that of the novel, using female for post-transition and male pronouns for pre-transition Eriko (formerly called Yugi).

[**] It’s worth observing that most characters seem to respect Eriko’s gender identity, even though it’s mentioned on occasion that Eriko is “really a man”. Given that Eriko’s fate is common for transgender women, a content warning is appropriate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading Women in Translation for #WITmonth 2017

Supporting Women in Translation month signals that the reading public wants different voices and more choices to read.

Last year (late July 2016), I learned about Women in Translation month when the #women_writers Twitter chat featured Meytal Radzinski, founder of this movement (you can find the chat highlights here). As rave reviews and recommendations for books I hadn’t yet read or even heard about, I became very conscious of having a reading blind spot. I certainly read several translated works over the years, and women writers were among their numbers[*]. Some I’d read as part of my coursework (poet Anna Akhmatova among them), others (classic or more recent) because they were sufficiently famous to warrant attention (Like Water for Chocolate by Laura Esquivel translated by Thomas Christensen and Carol Christensen).

But I hadn’t given thought much about how few books are translated into English and, of these books, how few are written by women.[†] This simple observation made me realize how much I was missing, not just in terms of good stories (many works translated are widely respected), but in the experiences reading provides. Reading from diverse sources broadens our horizons, allows us to contemplate viewpoints not our own—preventing us from living in a complacent echo chamber and helping us become more empathetic people. Insight into other lives and other cultures—or just an amazing tale, all are great reasons to read women in translation. Supporting Women in Translation month signals that the reading public wants different voices and more choices to read.

MY WITmonth Experiences Thus Far

For my part, my albeit late participation in Women in Translation month last year involved purchasing a copy of one the most highly discussed books, The Vegetarian by Han Kang (translated by Deborah Smith). Kang’s novel was explosive in its discussion of identity,[‡] insanity, erasure, violence (including both child and domestic abuse), and family. I hadn’t read anything else like it, and the novel has stayed with me. This year, I followed it up with Kang’s novel, Human Acts (also translated by Deborah Smith). Based on the Gwangju Uprising in South Korea during the early 1980s, the government’s violence against its own citizens is both brutal and senseless. And yet, some chose to stand and protest regardless of the risks involved. Kang captured the frightening range of humanity, both noble and monstrous. Afterwards, I found myself wondering about immigrant families I’ve known (not just from South Korea), the reasons that might have motivated them to emigrate, how restrictive immigration policies might abandon families like theirs to terrible fates. The novel, too, reminded me of how some peaceful protestors in my country have been mistreated. Thought provoking, indeed.

Going  Further

While I do recommend you read more women in translation, I am not providing my own list because articles posted on several other websites and blogs already are doing an excellent job of providing these recommendations. These resources appear below. I also suggest typing #WITmonth into the WordPress reader or Twitter feed for more ideas for reading translated works by women writers.

The Women in Translation blog is obviously a fantastic resource for reading women in translation.

Reading Women in Translation #WITMonth by Claire McAlpine appears on her blog Word by Word, which regularly features translated works.

The AnzLitLovers blog by Lisa Hill has multiple reviews of books written by female authors in translation listed in this archive.

Words Without Borders (WWB) online literary magazine offers several features focusing on women writers in translation including 25 Recent Works by Women Writers to Read for #WITmonth by Jessica Chaffee and Where Are the Women in Translation? Here Are 31 to Read Now by Liz Cettina.

English PEN, an organization devoted to literature and human rights, has several articles discussing women in translation (include the PEN Translates awards and grants).  Joanna Walsh’s article, Women in Translation to Read Right Now, provides reading suggestions.

PEN America, the US-based branch of PEN, similarly features articles discussing women in translation , including Susan Bernofsky’s article Read These Women in Translation Now.

BookRiot features 7 August Releases by Women in Translation This #WITMonth by M. Lynx Qualey and 10 Books to Check Out for Women in Translation Month by Teresa Preston

Goodreads also features this fantastic list of over 600 works: Women in Translation

Feel free to share your suggested books or links to reading lists as well!

NOTES:

[*] I suspect, though, male writers would outnumber female writers in translation. So much work to do here.

[†] Meytal Radzinski estimates that only 30% of book translated into English were written by women. Specific details are available here.

[‡] I discuss The Vegetarian in a post on character here.