The most recent addition to the complete review is my review of Katherine Pancol's The Yellow Eyes of Crocodiles.
Pancol is, year in and year out , one of the bestselling French novelists in France, and this book -- the first in a trilogy -- has been translated into twenty-nine languages -- before now finally also being made available, sort of, in English. Yes, despite the book's bestselling bona fides (and the decade she spent living in New York, which suggests she can come over and market the hell out of this book) Penguin has only published a version they admit is: "an abridgement of the original French-language work". Apparently what's good enough for the rest of the world -- and sells by the bucketload -- has to be 'fixed' for US/UK readers.
Books in translation published by Penguin as paperback-originals seem to suffer this fate more than most -- I recall last year's very unhappy experiment with Goce Smilevski's Freud's Sister -- but (radical) editing of books in translation is one of the industry's (many) dirty (and reader unfriendly) little secrets, about which much too little is said. A firm believer in the sanctity of the (original) text (and author's wishes), this kind of meddling drives me nuts -- and, in the case of this book, it appears to have made what was likely a mediocre book one that is just a mess.
Pancol is, year in and year out , one of the bestselling French novelists in France, and this book -- the first in a trilogy -- has been translated into twenty-nine languages -- before now finally also being made available, sort of, in English. Yes, despite the book's bestselling bona fides (and the decade she spent living in New York, which suggests she can come over and market the hell out of this book) Penguin has only published a version they admit is: "an abridgement of the original French-language work". Apparently what's good enough for the rest of the world -- and sells by the bucketload -- has to be 'fixed' for US/UK readers.
Books in translation published by Penguin as paperback-originals seem to suffer this fate more than most -- I recall last year's very unhappy experiment with Goce Smilevski's Freud's Sister -- but (radical) editing of books in translation is one of the industry's (many) dirty (and reader unfriendly) little secrets, about which much too little is said. A firm believer in the sanctity of the (original) text (and author's wishes), this kind of meddling drives me nuts -- and, in the case of this book, it appears to have made what was likely a mediocre book one that is just a mess.