Bøker av Yoko Tawada

Yoko Tawada-winner of the National Book Award-presents three terrific new ghost stories, each named after a street in Berlin

It's hard to believe there could be a more enjoyable novel than Scattered All Over the Earth--Yoko Tawada's rollicking, touching, cheerfully dystopian novel about friendship and climate change--but surprising her readers is what Tawada does best: its sequel, Suggested in the Stars, delivers exploits even more poignant and shambolic.As Hiruko--whose Land of Sushi has vanished into the sea and who is still searching for someone who speaks her mother tongue--and her new friends travel onward, they begin opening up to one another in new and extraordinary ways. They try to help their friend Susanoo regain his voice, both for his own good and so he can speak with Hiruko--and amid many often hilarious misunderstandings (some linguistic in nature)--they empower each other against despair. Coping with carbon footprint worries but looping singly and in pairs, they hitchhike, take late-night motorcycle rides, and hop on the train (learning about railway strikes but also packed-train-yoga) to convene in Copenhagen. There they find Susanoo in a strange hospital working with a scary speech-loss doctor. In the half-basement of this weird medical center (with strong echoes of Lars von Trier's 1990s TV series The Kingdom), they also find two special kids washing dishes. They discover magic radios, personality swaps, ship tickets delivered by a robot, and other gifts. But friendship--loaning one another the nerve and heart to keep going--sets them all (and the reader) to dreaming of something more... Suggested in the Stars delivers new delights, and Yoko Tawada's famed new trilogy will conclude in 2025 with Archipelago of the Sun, even if nobody will ever want this "strange, exquisite" (The New Yorker) trip to end.

A tale of passion and romance between a Japanese schoolteacher and a doglike man, from the prize-winning author of The Last Children of TokyoMitsuko, a schoolteacher at the Kitamura school, inspires both rumour and curiosity in the parents of her students because of her unconventional manner - not least when she tells the children the fable of a princess whose hand in marriage is promised to a dog she is intimate with. And when a young man with sharp canine teeth turns up at the schoolteacher's home and declares he's 'here to stay', the romantic - and sexual - relationship that develops intrigues the community, some of whom have suspicions about the man's identity and motives. Masterfully turning the rules of folklore and fable on their head, The Bridegroom Was a Dog is a disarming and unforgettable modern classic.

Patrik, who sometimes calls himself "the patient," is a literary researcher living in present-day Berlin. The city is just coming back to life after lockdown, and his beloved opera houses are open again, but Patrik cannot leave the house and hardly manages to get out of bed. When he shaves his head, his girlfriend scolds him, "What have you done to your head? I don't want to be with a prisoner from a concentration camp!" He is supposed to give a paper at a conference in Paris, on the poetry collection Threadsuns by Paul Celan, but he can't manage to get past the first question on the registration form: "What is your nationality?" Then at a café (or in the memory of being at a café?), he meets a mysterious stranger. The man's name is Leo-Eric Fu, and somehow he already knows Patrik...In the spirit of imaginative homage like Roberto Bolaño's Monsieur Pain, Antonio Tabucchi's Requiem, and Thomas Bernhard's Wittgenstein's Nephew, Yoko Tawada's mesmerizing new novel unfolds like a lucid dream in which friendship, conversation, reading, poetry, and music are the connecting threads that bind us together.

Yoko Tawada's Portrait of a Tongue is a meditation on language and equivalence between German, Japanese, and English. Wright's experimental approach to the translation draws attention to the presence of the translator and her role in mediating Tawada's original reflection on language for an English-speaking audience.

The works of the Japanese writer Yoko Tawada, who lives in Germany and writes in both German and Japanese, demand the suspension of common concepts of reading, understanding, and thinking. Her translingual writing is based on a playful and, at the same time, critical handling of language and various processes of trans­lation: from one language into another, from thoughts into text or sounds, from sounds into text and vice versa. In many of her texts, the linguistic material is taken apart, alienated, and recomposed, in order to achieve new modes of expression, and raise its poetic potential. This book shows the challenges posed by this approach by documenting new translations and essays which originate from her time as DAAD Writer in Residence at St Edmund Hall, University of Oxford, and an exhibition at the Taylor Institution Library.The introduction is provided by Christoph Held who invited her, with a preface by Emma Huber on exhibitions in the Taylorian. Included are new translations of her texts (from German by Rey Conquer and Chiara Giovanni and from Japanese by Lucy Fleming-Brown) with a discussion of her translation techniques (by Alexandra Lloyd); this is contextualised by an essay based on an exhibition curated by Sheela Mahedevan under the supervision of Henrike Lähnemann. The ambition of this collection of creative work and essays is to showcase a transdisciplinary focus that does justice to the transcultural and multilingual nature of Yoko Tawada's works.

Japan, after suffering from a massive irreparable disaster, cuts itself off from the world. Children are so weak they can barely stand or walk: the only people with any get-go are the elderly. Mumei lives with his grandfather Yoshiro, who worries about him constantly. They carry on a day-to-day routine in what could be viewed as a post-Fukushima time, with all the children born ancient-frail and gray-haired, yet incredibly compassionate and wise. Mumei may be enfeebled and feverish, but he is a beacon of hope, full of wit and free of self-pity and pessimism. Yoshiro concentrates on nourishing Mumei, a strangely wonderful boy who offers "the beauty of the time that is yet to come."A delightful, irrepressibly funny book, The Emissary is filled with light. Yoko Tawada, deftly turning inside-out "the curse," defies gravity and creates a playful joyous novel out of a dystopian one, with a legerdemain uniquely her own.

A precocious Vietnamese high school student - known as the pupil with "the iron blouse"-in Ho Chi Minh City is invited to an International Youth Conference in East Berlin. But, in East Berlin, as she is preparing to present her paper in Russian on "Vietnam as a Victim of American Imperialism," she is abruptly kidnapped and taken to a small town in West Germany. After a strange spell of domestic-sexual boredom with her lover-abductor-and though "the Berlin Wall was said to be more difficult to break through than the Great Wall of China" - she escapes on a train to Moscow . . . but mistakenly arrives in Paris. Alone, broke, and in a completely foreign land, Anh (her false name) loses herself in the films of Catherine Deneuve as her real adventures begin.Dreamy, meditative, and filled with the gritty everyday perils of a person living somewhere without papers (at one point Anh is subjected to some vampire-like skin experiments), The Naked Eye is a novel that is as surprising as it is delightful-each of the thirteen chapters titled after and framed by one of Deneuve's films. "As far as I was concerned," the narrator says while watching Deneuve on the screen, "the only woman in the world was you, and so I did not exist." By the time 1989 comes along and the Iron Curtain falls, story and viewer have morphed into the dislocating beauty of both dancer and dance.