The Sound of a Novel in Another Language
Today I’m finally carving out some time to get back to editing. After translating one of my novels into English, I’m now revising it, because translation alone doesn’t turn a novel into a book. It needs refinement.
Below is an excerpt from Lands of Solitude.
Synopsis: In the summer of 1991, in a southern Italian village ruled by ancient codes and unwritten laws, a boy falls in love, a friend disappears, and a respectable man begins gathering tools in a ruined grange. By the end of summer, no one in Vitrusi will be the same.
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To distract himself he plays with toy cars. He stages races, invents the drivers' names, then heads down into the street to send them tearing across the cobblestones, scampering on all fours like an infant. He slides two sports cars along, one in each hand, one black, one red. He growls engine noises through his teeth. An old man tells him he's too big for toys now. Gebedia takes no notice. Today the red one wins, because red is his last memory of Sofia.
Exams are in a few days. Maybe he'll see her again. Maybe she's found the pendant. Maybe she's understood.
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I hope you'll share your own writing here more often. Being read matters. It's also a way to test a story, or sometimes just a style, against eyes that aren't yours.
Mars 🙂
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Marcello Iori
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The Sound of a Novel in Another Language
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