Lily Meyer

Sometimes, it's not the author you choose, it's the translator. So we've picked three novels where the translation will help you discover new things about the text, even if you can read the original.

In order to track Patrick Nathan's ideas, one must to get on board with his habit of invoking fascism broadly, emphasizing its aesthetic and imaginative tendencies over its concrete manifestations.

The third installment of British writer Deborah Levy's excellent Living Autobiography is largely a book about the collisions of fantasies and real life — or perhaps a synthesis of the two.

In her first collection, Lucy Ives proves herself — and we mean this as a compliment — a real literary weirdo. Her stories are strange without ever performing strangeness, baffling yet precise.

Patricia Engels' novel about the experiences of a Colombian family migrating to the U.S. stands out for its sharp writing — but frustrates in equal measure because of its reliance on summary.

Sometimes, when the days are getting shorter and the world seems like it's getting darker, a melancholy read seems like just the thing — so here are three fittingly dark novels in translation.

Artist and writer Lauren Redniss mixes art, design, and rigorous research with a prose style that is at once assertive, journalistic and poetic to create a book like no other.

Nicole Krauss's novels often have complex structures, but the simplicity of her new story collection allows the beauty and precision of her writing to shine through.

In her memoir, Christie Tate sets a positive example in the telling of how group therapy saved her — and in the care she takes to never present herself as an expert.

The work is much more like reading a book-length poem than reading a play, though few poems or poetry collections come filled with charming illustrations of trees, dancers, and party-hatted dogs.