One-half of The Slavic Literature Pod duo. Old man by nature, killjoy by trade. I read trashy sci-fi and noir novels on the side.
Buy a copy of I Burned at the Feast here. Show Notes: This week, Cameron dives into the collection I
View episodeCameron is joined by Dominique Hoffman to discuss Olena Stiazhkina's Cecil the Lion Had to Die. They'll get into her work translating the novel, the material culture of the post-Soviet world, and Ukrainian identify formation.
View episodeCameron sits down with Fiona Bell to talk about her translation of Avdotya Panaeva's The Talnikov Family, covering its deployment of defamiliarization, the Russian racial imaginary, and purported universality.
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I have a secret to admit to you: I don’t exclusively read Slavic fiction. Books from many regions haunt my mind. Here are four works that just won't leave me alone.
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This post, covering Part 3, Chapter 35 is part of The Slavic Literature Pod’s chapter a day read along
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Our stories become us. It always happens after we die, of course.
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For me, death has always been simply: “oh.” That’s all there’s left to say, really. Oh, he’s dead. Oh, when was the last time I talked to her? Oh. Oh oh oh. “Oh,” is all I can say in response to something that’s already happened. Nothing can be changed. It can only be reacted to.
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