Lily Meyer

Mutt-Lon's The Blunder, Pina by Titaua Peu, and Thuận's Chinatown all come from different continents and deal, glancingly or in depth, with French colonialism.

The protagonist of Clare-Louise Bennett's novel is a determinedly unfixed and unrooted person who marks time by which writers she has read.

The novel is simultaneously wise and silly, moving and inscrutable. It is also indisputably working hard to be new.

Novelist John Darnielle — also singer-songwriter with the Mountain Goats — has a hero who wants to honor the victims he's writing about but doesn't much like them.

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.